CHAPTER FIVE: ANAMNESIS
Revan stumbled through the deep shadows of an unfamiliar darkness, fumbling for something recognizable. She could hear only the light clink of her soft footsteps as they hit the metallic floor in perfect rhythm. There was a chilling cold lying just under her skin, a slow, creeping cold, seeping deep into her bones. Something was wrong, very wrong. Instinctively she felt to her side for her lightsaber as a source of light and comfort, but instead felt the slight twinges of panic begin to tug at her mind. It wasn't there. She would have to rely on her Jedi senses alone to get out of this shadowed prison.
There was a thick uneasiness in the air. As if something ominous was waiting for her, lurking closer with her every unsteady step. She was searching for something, or was it someone?
Her eyes finally seemed to adjust, and the dimness now became a vast sea of murk, meshing darkness and light. She could hear voices, two of them. One was deep, cold and full of spite. It spoke in harsh tones towards its listener, tones she didn't recognize. But the second was all too familiar. Revan found the twinges of panic becoming stronger as she struggled to keep her equanimity.
"Well. Here we are. It's what you wanted isn't it?" spoke the latter voice.
"I'm really disappointed in you, Onasi. We served together for how many years? Fourteen? Since recruitment, Carth. Hell, we served together even through the Mandalorian Wars. But for what? You to take off on our next assignment?"
Dyok waited for Carth to reply, continuing when he didn't. "You should have listened to Karath. He had amazing plans for you. Second in command of the entire Sith fleet, and you passed it all up, for your dear wife no less. But if you had joined us, you would have known about the attack. Morgana would have been able to escape. So, in a round about way, Carth, you killed her yourself."
Carth tightened his jaw, feeling the anger rise up in him. With all of his strength, Carth leaped toward the other man, but was quickly pulled back by the binders chaining him against a chair. "No," Carth countered through clenched teeth. "It was Saul who killed Morgana. Saul who led my son to being captured."
"Don't fool yourself. Revan told Malak to test the new Admiral's loyalties. And how about you now? The galaxy is in a tumult about you two being together," Dyok taunted, smiling darkly as he saw the rage leap into Carth's eyes. "So tell me, how is it sleeping with your wife's murderer? The woman who destroyed everything you fought for. Everything you believed in."
Revan could suddenly hear heavy footsteps begin to walk across the floor, seemingly circling Carth, followed by the distinct scraping noise as he drew some sort of weapon.
"You bastard," Carth spat, eying the green marbled casing of the dagger. The letter ' O' was engraved into the handle, and Carth remembered the exact moment he had presented it to Dustil on his twelfth birthday, as it had been passed down to him, withstanding for five generations.
"It's not like he needs it now, Carth."
"How did you get that?"
"I'm tired of answering your questions, Onasi." Dyok retorted, turning away from the soldier. He held the dagger closer to his face, examining the intricate handle and tracing his finger across the engraved letters.
"You always did give up easily didn't you, Dyok" Carth chided with satisfaction as he saw Vren tense at the remark.
Revan suddenly rounded the corner catching sight of Carth. He was bound, both hands and feet to a durasteel chair, which was bolted to the permacrete floor. She turned back to Dyok, watching as a look of pure hate overtook him. Rearing back his arm, Dyok stood over Carth, ready to send the dagger plunging deep into his skin at any moment. Revan attempted to use the Force to pull the weapon from Dyok's grasp, but found she had no control over it.
"Go ahead, Vren. You've wanted to kill me ever since the Yavin IV mission.
"You're right," Dyok stated simply. "I don't understand how the entire galaxy can revere you. If only they knew the real story, that their beloved hero is a deserter."
"That's a lie, Dyok, and you know it. We had a protocol to follow," Carth replied bitterly.
"Protocol?" Dyok spun around quickly, his icy blue-gray eyes boring into Carth's as he lowered his head until their faces were mere inches apart. Dyok spoke quietly, his voice trembling with fury. "If your protocol is betraying a fellow soldier while behind enemy lines, then sure, Carth. You followed your precious protocol. You were once like a brother to me, but now you are nothing."
In one swift motion Dyok thrust the dagger into Carth's abdomen, a trail of crimson following the dagger as it was slowly extracted from his skin.
Bastila awoke with a start, sweat dripping down her back and face as she began to shiver with cold feelings of foreboding. She probed the inner depths of her mind, trying to ignite the bond between Revan and herself unsuccessfully. She must have seen one of Revan's dreams, but Bastila hadn't exactly felt Revan's presence in the dream as she had when they shared dreams in search of the Star Forge. It bothered Bastila that she saw the whole thing from Revan's perspective. And how Revan had lost her affinity with the Force, it all made Bastila extremely uneasy. The Council of course had anticipated that Revan might travel to Telos, but she doubt they predicted something like this. She would have to inform the Council of this immediately.
She quickly changed into her robes and hustled through the doors, colliding with Jolee. The old man looked as ghastly as Bastila felt.
"Did you feel the disturbance?" she asked him as they quickly headed toward the enclave.
"Yes, but what was it?"
"I saw a vision through Revan's eyes of Carth and a man named Dyok," Bastila stated, explaining to him the dream and her concern over Revan's ghost-like presence.
"I think it may have been a vision from the future. A premonition," he replied slowly, as if sorting something out in his head.
"Such things are possible. But was it really more than a bad dream?"
Jolee huffed.
"If Revan was merely having bad dreams, I doubt the three of us each would have sensed it," Juhani said emerging from the dark corner where she had heard their conversation.
"We will only know for sure once we have consulted the Council," she declared as they set off across the gardens.
"This is most intriguing," Master Vrook stated after the Jedi had relayed the events of the dream to the Council.
"Intriguing?" Jolee repeated, astonished. "We inform you that we think Commander Onasi may be in peril, and you tell us this is intriguing. Hmph. And you wonder why Revan never consults you before taking action."
"Master Vandar, was this a vision?" Juhani questioned.
Master Vandar closed his eyes and an appearance of the deepest concentration fell across his face. "It is hard to see."
"Such premonitions are not uncommon, but Bastila, you may be correct in assuming that this was no more than a bad dream. You two have shared dreams before," Master Vrook stated.
"But if you will remember, Master Vrook, those dreams of Malak and Revan had actually occurred, making them visions," Master Zhar clarified.
"This is very troubling," admitted Master Vandar. "Revan has no contact with the Force."
"It was almost as if she was a ghost," Bastila said quietly.
"So what is it then," asked Juhani, "a bad dream, or a premonition?"
Vandar nodded slightly, "Only time will tell us which is true."
Revan awoke with the sick feeling of foreboding wrenching in the pit of her stomach. Once again echoes of sorrow ricocheted inside her mind, products of another blind nightmare. She sat up slowly, closing her eyes, searching deep within the crevices of her mind for any images of the dream. Morning after morning she repeated the same process. Waking with a bleak awareness of the dark Revan, as if a memory of hers lay there just on the edge of conscious thought. But as always, she would fall short of attaining that memory and once again feel as if she carried an abyss inside of her.
But on this particular morning, something was distinctly different. As she sat cross-legged on the cold metallic floor beside her cot and searched the crevices of her mind, the distress she felt was not that of her old self. It was something entirely different. Again, she felt as if an image loomed just outside of her reach. If only she could just let herself go a little further…
Revan's eyes shot open and she clenched her teeth to sway the sudden wave of nausea. She physically felt as if she were going to be sick. Uncrossing her legs, Revan slowly slid her knees up to her chest, cradling them. As she rested her head on her knees, she sighed, letting her mind drift aimlessly.
She had almost captured an image, she was sure of it. For a moment, Revan was glad she couldn't. If she merely touched a memory and it had this sort of an effect on her, she could only guess as to what actually accessing one would do.
Suddenly, something clicked in her brain and she remembered. Dyok. She registered the word, but it held no meaning for her. Deciding she had brooded over it enough for the moment, she resolved to run the word through the archives when she had the time.
Standing she stretched, testing herself against the waves of nausea still coursing through her stomach. Giving it a soft rub, she left her starboard cabin and headed for the refresher unit. As she passed the communications center, she noticed it flickering with an incoming message. And that would be Carth. She sighed, ignoring the feed. I'm not ready for that conversation yet.
Canderous emerged from his own cabin on the port side of the Hawk just as Revan disappeared into the 'fresher. He too noticed the comm flashing and moved to view the message, watching as the holographic image of a disgruntled Carth appeared in front of him.
"I meant it when I said I didn't want you to train him, but you took off anyway. I'm still out of the loop, but I trust your reasons. And you. Just remember, this isn't between you and the Council concerning the rest of the galaxy. This is my son," he sighed heavily. "Dammit Revan, you're one stubborn woman..."
Canderous shut off the message with an expression of annoyance. Yeah well, he thought wryly, if you're so displeased then do something about it.
Canderous had picked up on Carth's admiration with Revan the moment he met them in the Upper City Cantina on Taris, but the way Carth had gone about dealing with his feelings for her had rubbed Canderous the wrong way. Especially when they discovered who she truly was. Carth had been ready to forsake everything they had been through on some mad rush for vengeance. Why Revan felt the way she did about Carth was beyond him, but he supposed it had something to do with the way the pilot had gotten over himself in the end. Canderous didn't want to think about it. The only thing he knew was his vow. Wherever Revan went, he would follow.
Just as he was about to head for the food synthesizer, the comm center lit up with another incoming message. Canderous pressed a button and looked on curiously as Bastila's image appeared in front of him.
"Revan, here you are again. Acting as brash as ever. You could have at least consulted the Council...Vrook," Bastila's holograph image was cutting out, leaving gaping holes in her message, "Jolee seems to think…vision. With…and… is unknown." The message completely disappeared for a moment, then came back a little clearer. "This needs to be taken seriously, Revan. We all felt it."
Bastila's image faded away. Canderous had little idea as to the meaning of her message, but Bastila sounded somewhat urgent. He smirked. Now that he thought about it, Bastila always sounded urgent. Canderous left the message up so Revan could review it later. Maybe she could make more sense of it.
As he proceeded to the synthesizer, the refresher door opened, sending a wave of steam coursing throughout the ship's common area and revealing a freshly dressed Revan. She flashed a small smile at Canderous, following him toward the synthesizer.
"Canderous, what was it that you saw last night on the balcony while we were looking for Dustil?"
He turned away from the synthesizer and looked at her gravely "I'm not sure now what it was exactly, but when I looked I saw the glint of a weapon as the moonlight reflected off of it. At our abrupt stop, whoever the coward was panicked and ducked down, drawing even more attention to themselves."
"I didn't sense them at first, the danger," she stared at the floor, slightly shaking her head "I never did, not until you pointed them out. But they were angry and full of rage. I should have felt them."
Canderous stared at her thoughtfully, handing her a plate of food. "What if they hadn't meant to endanger us?"
"I don't know. What if I was too preoccupied with my own thoughts to stay in tune with my surroundings," she sighed. "This is one reason the Council preaches against entanglement with attachments."
Revan stared down at the gunk on her plate. No one had tuned up the synthesizer since Jolee complained last, and that had been over a month ago. The synthesizer had to be tweaked at least once a week to even produce distinguishable substances. Revan discarded her food—if you could call it that—and headed to the hanger to add some upgrades to her swoop before heading back out into Telos. She craved the tranquil feeling of freedom the race offered. When you're there, in the seat of a machine capable of that kind of speed with adrenaline coursing through your veins, your mind doesn't have time to think, to process anything. You survive on reactions alone. For Revan, it cleared her mind of everything, the concerns of the present, worries of the future, and the emptiness of the past.
An hour later they began to trek across what little had been rebuilt of Telos. Now that it was in the daylight, the obvious struggle the people had with rebuilding their lives became known. For the most part, the main street of Telos had been cleared of debris and Revan guessed roughly seventy percent of the buildings were habitable. But the further away one got from the main street, the more destruction was apparent. Entire sections of the city had remained nearly untouched since the assault. If a building hadn't been completely razed, chunks of it were missing and scattered across the roads and walkways.
Passing through the crowded streets, Revan spotted Dustil fairly easily, entering a hanger in docking bay 347, near the old military base. He walked the same way as his father, carrying himself with that certain pride. Peering inside the hanger bay doors, she saw an old freighter that looked as if it had been decommissioned for years. Grime was built up around the windshield and layers of carbon scoring were streaked down the sides. This ship had seen some action, and that's the way she liked them. As far as she was concerned, it added character.
Standing there watching Dustil, Revan suddenly found herself caught up in a memory. She was…home. And couldn't have been older than five.
"Want to help me finish the Endeavor?" A tall man with dark hair and kind blue eyes asked as he extended a grease covered hand towards her, smiling. "Just a bit more work and we'll have her up and running."
Nodding her head, she took her father's outstretched hand, smiling up at him.
"Okay, Commander," he began as they made their way into the ship. "I'm trying to replace the power couplings to repair the hyperdrive. What tool should I start with?"
"The hydrospanner," she replied, grabbing it out of the toolbox and handing it to him.
"That's right, Alora! And thank you," he said smiling as he accepted the tool from her. "I may make a spacer out of you yet…"
Revan turned her attention back toward the present. Of course, she thought a little crestfallen. The memory wasn't hers at all. It belonged to Alora Lantra, the scout who used to make her living skirting the unknown regions of the galaxy attempting to discover new hyperspace routes.He had certainly made a spacer out of her and a fine mechanic too.
Revan sighed. As much as she wanted to be Alora Lantra, she knew she couldn't. While she wasn't exactly Revan, it was the closest thing she had to an identity. Alora was someone completely fictional and for all purposes could have been ripped straight from an old holovid. But maybe it was better this way. Accepting the past would be a big part of her recovery from it.
Focusing back on Dustil, Revan watched as he tried to start up the freighter's engines. At first they whirred as if coming to life, then sputtered, groaning to a stop. Cursing, Dustil exited the loading ramp with a datapad stuck in front of his face. Whatever he was looking at, he was studying so intently that he didn't see the pair standing merely a few feet in front him.
"Heya Dustil," Revan greeted, smiling warmly.
Dustil looked up, staring at the Jedi and the Mandalorian with an expression of shock on his face that quickly turned into agitation. He turned away from them and focused his attenion back onto the datapad. "I'm not training under you."
"The decision to assign you a teacher is really left up to the Council, Dustil. And besides, I've got to actually decide that I'm going to train you before you can say no."
Dustil scoffed, turning to face her. "Why do they even allow you on the streets after what you've done?"
She pursed her lips into a thin smile, "For the very same reason you're standing before me now. Like you, I have been redeemed."
"Redemption," he spat. "It's overrated." He paused glaring at her. "Unlike you. I never killed thousands of people in a single moment, I never wiped out entire planets."
"Is it so overrated?" Revan's smile wavered slightly, "You're right. I did do all of those things once. And I'm sure there are others, things I can't remember. I've read your file, Dustil, in the Jedi Archives," her smile grew slightly at his expression. "Yes. You already have a file."
Dustil's face was red with anger. "What don't you get? You ordered an attack on my homeworld. You destroyed Telos. You killed my mother! Why would I ever…" he trailed off, too angry to finish.
Revan's smile finally faltered, her lips falling into a tight, thin line. "It is true," she admitted sorrowfully. "But you must remember that I have been redeemed. And you have too. You may not have destroyed planets or killed thousands of people, but you were also a part of Malak's command. You were joined with the Sith, Dustil. By joining, you showed them you supported their actions, and that included the destruction of Telos."
Dustil stared at her wordlessly, his mind racing. After he didn't speak for several moments, Revan walked fowards, stopping just close enough to read the datapad over his shoulder. He was looking over readouts fom the navicomputer, trying to find the freighter's malfunction.
Stepping backwards, Dustil looked at her utterly confused. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to help you fix your ship," she replied closing the distance between them again. "Look, there." She pointed over his arm at one of the readings. "Have you tried the reverse power coupling?"
"Just did," Dustil answered. "That wasn't the problem. She still won't run."
"Hmm." Revan thought for a moment. "What about the alluvial dampers? If one of those isn't shutting down tight enough, it can lead to a broken motivator, which in turn can-"
"Bust up the hyperdrive," Dustil finished for her.
Somewhat begrudgingly, he slipped the datapad back into his pocket and opened an external hatch at the back of the freighter. Leaning furthur in, he examined the dampers and let out a string of inaudible curses. Sure enough, the damn woman was right.
Carth stepped off the loading ramp of the Strider, eying the few people scattered among the docking bay. A couple of mechanics and docking bay attendants were all that lingered in the room and for that he was thankful. He made his way to one of the short Rodian attendants, who recognized him immediately.
"Ah. Commander Onasi. Right on schedule. Your fee has already been taken care of. If you need anything on your visit, we will be happy to assist you."
On schedule?
"Right. Thanks." Carth forced a small smile to hide his bemusement. Had Revan gotten his message already and made these arrangements? He found that hard to believe. Pushing aside his slight paranoia he set off into the streets of Telos in search of Dustil, knowing that Revan would be found right with him.
As he ambled through the small walkways, he still couldn't believe this was all of his homeworld that had been reconstructed in four years. Jordo was right. They've never recovered. The road was crowded, and he could easily slip through the bustling people relatively unnoticed. He continued down the street until he came to the military base.
There wasn't much left now behind the thick durasteel gates but piles of rubble that had been pilfered through. Immediately after the attack, only a fourth of the base had remained standing. Carth supposed the rest had been razed do to irreparable structural damage.
As he inspected the sight closer, he noticed a small portion of the stone gate entrance had been engraved. He walked over, examining the engravings of hundreds of names of military personnel lost in the attack four years ago. He scanned the list, catching the names of many people he knew. After a while his eyes stopped abruptly, focusing on one name, the sight of it bringing that dreadful day rushing back into his mind full force.
Carth awoke with a start, not sure what drug him from such a deep slumber. He gently untangled his arms from Morgana, taking extra precaution not to wake her. She got so little sleep these days. But she stirred and rose as well, a curious expression on her face. Carth glanced around for a moment, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
"Did you hear that?" she questioned leaning across the bed towards him as another rumble resonated in the distance. "Sounded like some sort of explosion."
They stared at each other for a moment in complete silence, both straining their ears for another burst of sound. A third thundering was heard, and the harsh dawning of realization fell over Carth, sending an expression of shock and anger across his face. He fumbled for his clothes, stumbling over the boots he so hastily discarded of the night before.
Her eyes widened in horror, "It's not..." She cut off abruptly as Carth nodded his head vigorously. She quickly dressed as well, her long blonde hair swinging over her shoulder as she leaned down to strap on her shoes.
"Yes," Carth answered in quiet disbelief. "Saul."
A wave of panic washed through Morgana. "Dustil! Oh Carth, he stayed with the rest of his class at the academy lock-in. He's not here."
Carth tried to be reasonable as he pulled his shirt over his shoulders, "The academy is right by the military base. I'm sure they'll evacuate into one of the bunkers. They've had drills before. He'll be alright until we can get there."
Morgana wasn't swayed. She scurried out of the house and hopped into a speeder, Carth barely jumping in beside her before she sped off for the base.
Before they even reached the front gates of the base, a full fledged attack had begun. As they passed the entrance, an ammunitions building received a direct hit, causing an explosion to rumble across the base. Shards of glass and other debris came tumbling down upon them. On impact, the speeder was smashed into the ground, skidding across it, and slamming into the base of one of the steel watchtowers. Carth was thrown from the speeder and sent tumbling over the rough, paved surface. The last thing he remembered was sliding to a halt, feeling his skin searing with pain from the friction of his flesh scraping across the coarse ground.
He awoke some time later after the bombing had ceased. He pulled himself up from the ground, looking for Morgana, but instead only saw other military personnel and a few medics checking for survivors. Eying his crashed speeder, which was now disintegrated in flames, he could only hope that she had been thrown out as well. Tracing back their path from the entrance, he scampered through the wreckage calling for her, losing sight of the medics in his search.
After what seemed like the longest ten minutes of his life, Carth saw something moving out of the corner of his eye. He felt his heart drop to his stomach. Sprinting towards her, he found Morgana buried under a small mound of debris and twisted in an unnatural position.
Carth dropped to his knees beside her, frantically pulling off pieces of rubble. As he lifted a large sheet of metallic roofing off of her, it revealed a huge gash in her abdomen that had soaked her white uniform a deep shade of crimson. Tears filled Carth's eyes as he eased her to him.
"'Ana," he whispered, pushing loose strands of her blond hair out of her eyes as his tears fell upon her face, leaving streaks through the grime and dried blood. "Medic!" he screamed, looking around hysterically.
She looked at him then, her green eyes staring into his. She weakly reached a hand up, lightly grazing it across his face, smearing a small streak of blood on his cheek before letting it fall limply back onto the ground. Carth picked it up, holding it in his own, wincing when he felt her bones lurch beneath his fingers. Her hand was crushed.
"Medic!" he yelled out again, seeing no one in sight. He looked back at her. "Just hold on," he whispered, laying his forehead against hers. "Just hold on."
"D...Dustil. He ma..."she gurgled, struggling with her speech. "Dustil made..."
Carth couldn't understand her words, his tears now continuously dripping off his cheeks and onto hers. "You're going to be alright. Just hold on," He looked around again, seeing two medics just within sight. "MEDIC!"
"No," she whispered almost inaudibly. "Find Dustil," she ordered breathlessly. "He...made...it..." she trailed off. But Carth couldn't make out her last words; the Medic's were running towards them, yelling indistinct orders at him. Carth looked back at his wife, suddenly feeling her weight change. She seemed suddenly heavier.
"Morgana," he whispered, once again pressing his forehead against hers. "Hang on, please hang on," He was struggling to hold back his tears. "You've always been a fighter 'Ana, don't give up now." Tones of desperation and grief entered his voice. "Please don't give up," he whispered to her vigorously, but somewhere inside of him he knew it was too late.
The medics arrived, eying the gash on her abdomen as they dropped down beside her to check for a pulse. Reaching for her lacerated wrist, the medic's face hardened as he felt the broken bones shift beneath her skin. After only a moment the medic turned his gaze to Carth, slowly shaking his head. Morgana was dead.
"No," Carth said, refusing to believe. Laying his head on her chest, Carth listened for the beat of her heart. As he held her nose with one hand and lightly lowered her jaw with the other, Carth brought his lips to hers, tasting blood as they met. Counting, he attempted to revive her, pumping her chest in rhythmic motions.
"Soldier," one of the medics called gruffly, grabbing Carth's arm.
Carth pulled away and again pressed the side of his face against Morgana's chest. The deafening silence filled his ears as he again tried to breathe air back into her motionless body.
"Soldier! It's no use," the medic called again. "SOLDIER!" Manhandling Carth, the Medic jerked him away from Morgana.
"You can't help her," the other medic began as he grabbed Carth's arms, turning them palm side up. Carth's face tightened in pain, suddenly becoming aware of his injuries. "Look at these gashes and scrapes. They're deep. You need to get these bandaged at the temporary med station set up on the other side of the Academy. Then, if you get an all clear, you need to report to your superior. I do not need to remind you that your duty lies first and foremost to the Republic."
Trembling, Carth watched as the Medics walked away, turning back to Morgana once they had retreated from sight. Feeling as if he was dying with her, Carth cradled Morgana in his arms and cried.