Author's notes: This is the final intermezzo – mostly a prologue to the prologue, you could say, told from several POVs, so it should be interesting. Bet you know who the chosen song is talking about. Easily earned chocolate for those who write me the answer in their reviews. And the last chocolate query – Revan´s dress was Princess Leia´s ANH outfit.
Kathleen - Thank you. I was actually impressed by the speech I wrote for Revan.I rarely like my own work, but it seemed to fit her somehow.
Iwill continue writing, have no fear, so even though this fic will soon be over, you´ll hear from me. Thanks again.
Cittygurl– "he kind cute"? ... CARTHOHOLIC! AAAH! (runs and hides)
Dark Lord Daishi – (bows) Intermezzo comes first, though!
Ryumasa the Ryuhaitou – (Revan:) Hmm… I suppose you have a point there. The sad thing also is that the people can't really see when they're being deceived and when they aren't.
Dark Phoenix 13X – (bows) Thank you, read on!
Brynn – Thanks. I wanted it to be original and I myself prefer the LS ending, for some reason. It seems more logical, somehow. But my Revan really is a mix of LS and DSness, so I'll wait and see what ideas I'll get. As I said before, I'll consider a male Exile. I've got a name ready for both genders, but I haven't played DS male yet, so I have to check that out. I have yet to decide that.
Either way, Exile is going to be LS. Name revelation: General Deon Emory or General Aminta Shari. Check out babynames. com if you want to know what they mean. Deon is short from Gideon and Shari is from Shadi, because I didn't want it to sound like "Shady". Aminta is no Eminem. :). Chocolate for anyone who tells me why I chose these names for my Exiles!
Muuuuuuuuch chocolate for anyone who can tell me where (cough) I stole…BORROWED! (cough) the name Aminta from!
PhantomMenace – ditto, too true. Thanks!
Jedi Revan Onasi - (bows) Thanks! Naw, Rev isn't nuts, Basty only wants to persuade herself that she is, so that everything would remain logical in her mind.
X X X
Intermezzo IX – Obsidian
X X X X
What is defeat? Nothing but education; nothing but the first step to something better.
Wendell Phillips
X X X X
When I see her eyes, look into my eyes
Then I realize that she could see inside my head
So I close my eyes, thinking that I could hide
Disassociate so I don't have to lose my head
This situation leads to agitation
Will she cut me off?
Will this be amputation?
I don't know if I care
I'm the jerk, life's not fair
Fighting all the time, this is out of line
She loves me not, loves me not
Do you realize I won't compromise
She loves me not, loves me not
Over the past five years I have shed my tears
I have drank my beers and watched my fears fly away
And until this day she still swings my way
But it's sad to say sometimes she says she loves me not
But I hesitate to tell her I hate
This relationship, I want out today, this is over
Papa Roach, She Loves Me Not
X X X
The dark halls of the Star Forge were now filled with former Republic soldiers. For millennia, this space station was abandoned and now it was so full of life…full of the dark side. This power was generated by the space station to give the returning Sith the power they needed. The power to destroy the Republic and create their Empire. It all began as a dream, but as it was constantly being more and more realistic, nobody could say that they made a mistake coming here, a mistake in following their leader.
The viewing platform of the enormous factory was nearly empty, only a lone dark figure stood there. Watching her ships assemble around the station, she knew that victory was at hand. Nobody could stop her now.
The sound of footsteps behind her didn't disturb her thoughts. Just the regular daily report.
"Everything is going as planned, my Lord. Every day, more ships are added to our fleet – the resources of the Star Forge are limitless. The troops await your instructions."
So far, nothing could ruin her plans. The Republic won't even know what hit them. Without turning to the Sith officer, she replied.
"Excellent. We will soon be ready. Be patient, commander. Do a throughout technical check of each ship. Continue with the regular procedure and report any news directly to me. You are dismissed."
The Sith bowed. "As you wish, Lord Revan."
Again, she was alone. The infinite fleet was an amazing sight to see for the first time, but she grew tired of the same old routine. Revan couldn't wait till they were ready – she would finally claim what is hers by right. Seeing a small light flash to life on her wrist, she turned on her comlink.
"My Lord, the preparations are nearly complete. No technical or any other damage was found on any ship. We are waiting for your instructions."
"That is good news, lieutenant. Everything is going as planned. I have already sent you instructions via the commander. If they don´t arrive, make sure to report it to me. My HK-47 unit hasn't killed anything today…yet."
The ice-cold voice of Darth Revan was enough to frighten even the bravest people. A true Sith Lord, she was feared even by her own men.
"As…as you wish, Lord Revan. I am also to inform you that Darth Malak is on his way to see you for further discussion."
Her icy voice showed no emotions. "Very well. Continue as planned, lieutenant."
"Yes, my Lord."
What could he possibly want? They didn't have much to discuss at the moment…or maybe they had so much to discuss, but the moment wasn't right. No matter…she was now a Sith Lord. There was only the power of hate. Nothing else. She knew that too well. As a Jedi, she was told so often how these feelings lead to the Dark Side, how they are to be avoided. Now she unlocked the true potential of the Force – its Dark Side. Her Dark Side. It was no wonder that she was the Master. Only she herself truly understood what it meant.
Hearing the doors open again, Revan frowned slightly. Malak entered and bowed to his Master.
She acknowledged his presence with a move of her hand. Her voice remained cold, if not even colder than before. Nobody would say that these two were best friends. Revan´s emptiness was shielding her.
"I have been informed that you wish to speak with me. If this is about the technical state of the fleet, I've heard all about it already."
"No, Master."
"Then for your sake, I hope you aren't wasting my time."
"And staring outside the window isn't wasting it? Master?" he quickly added.
Revan finally turned away from the window, looking down at her friend. She slowly walked down from the platform, facing him.
"Is that the way you should talk to the Dark Lord of the Sith and your Master?"
Surprisingly, her voice was slightly humored, although it was obvious that she wouldn't tolerate such behavior if he wouldn't explain himself soon enough. Immediately, a dark red hunter-killer unit emerged from the shadows, a blaster rifle ready in its hands.
"Query: Has he insulted you, Master? Shall I blast him?"
Revan seemed to think about this for a moment. "Hmm…I should consider it…"
"Also consider that before your pet would blast me, he would be cut into pieces."
"Good point. Well, hard luck, HK."
Revan took off her mask and hood – she needed to see the droid´s reaction with her own eyes. Plus, both of them already knew her face and didn't fear her more with the mask. And they posed no threat to her. At least right now. The droid was completely loyal only to her and Malak wasn't ready to challenge her…yet.
Her golden hair was loose under the hood and perhaps it was fortunate that she was looking at the droid, or she would see the sudden change in Malak´s expression. It had been months since she last took off the mask in front of him. And for a moment, he remembered that the creature underneath the mask was once his best friend. Perhaps fortunate for both of them, he quickly snapped out of it and Revan was distracted by the droid´s reply.
"Objection: You cannot be 100 percent sure of that, Master!" HK objected. "You know that I move rather quickly."
Revan smirked lightly, then spoke in her tone of mock thinking. Sparks of humor flashed in her eyes. "Suddenly, I can't seem to make up my mind."
"Do you always construct droids with suicidal instincts?" Malak asked her.
"Well, who knows whether it would be suicide…"
"Revan…"
She made no objections to him using her name and not her title or interrupting her. She merely raised her hand to silence him. "I'm certain it would be a most interesting duel. What do you think, HK?"
"Observation: One word from you, Master, and we shall see."
"Indeed." She turned away from the two and walked away a few steps, so that they wouldn't see her grin change into a smile.
"Do you have anything against me, droid?"
Revan was sure that this would prove interesting. Without turning to them, she stopped dead in her tracks and listened.
"Observation: Negative. I just don´t like organic meatbags. Except for the Master, of course."
Revan burst into laughter. In the Sith terms, tortures, killing and other similar things were "funny". This was way better. HK-47 seemed pleased with himself. Malak, on the other hand, rolled his eyes, but inside, he was trying to stop staring at her. Somehow, he thought about how long it was since he heard Revan laugh…and not because of someone being tortured. A pure sound of happiness, though it came because of a rather unusual jest.
"Oh, great. What's so funny?"
The Dark Lord turned around, still laughing. Darth Revan laughing heartily…now that was a sight to see. She was trying her best to stop. Well…not really. "Ha ha ha…'meatbag'…ha ha…now that is something that must be remembered…I don´t remember if I ever had such a good laugh before. It's definitely original and humorous. I like it. This deserves a reward."
Although Malak didn't seem to think it was humorous, Revan continued. "HK-47, I am very pleased with your creative phrase. I have decided to change your programming so that you continue to use the term. Perhaps you could think of some new ones, too. Feel free to use it at any opportunity. However, call me a meatbag or anything else besides "master" and it will be the last thing you do before I rip you to pieces or punish you with too much Force Lightning. Understood?"
The droid was clearly happy that his master was cruel and without mercy. "Affirmative: Yes, Master. Your brain is very un-meatbag like. From now on, I shall only address you as my Master. Query: Can I blast the meatbag now, Master?"
"Maybe later. The meatbag and I have things to discuss. Guard the entrance. No meatbag may disturb us. If someone tries to get in without a good reason, blast them. Now go."
"Observation: As you wish, Master. Statement: You hear that, meatbag? I will be back!"
The droid marched away to patrol the corridor. Revan sniggered as she watched the door close itself behind the hunter-killer unit. Malak shook his head. "Was that really necessary?"
She didn't have to think about the answer. "Yes, it was. Watch your language from now on – the droid is pretty bloodthirsty and creative. And it obeys all my commands."
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying that I don´t?"
Revan´s voice became cold again. She may have had a good laugh, but she was still the Dark Lord of the Sith. She couldn't afford to trust anyone. "For now, you do. But don´t think I'm forgetting the ways of the Sith. One day, you will challenge me for supremacy. Or I will decide that it is time to select a less powerful apprentice. And only one of us shall survive the battle. I will be prepared…and as a friend, I would advise you to be watchful as well. Because when that time comes, I will have to forget that we were friends. Now, you wanted something? We've spent far too much time talking about humorous, but useless matters."
"Of course, Master." He quickly said. "I wanted to know about your plan for our first strike. I have little doubt that we will attack soon. Which world will be the first to taste your wrath?"
Revan gracefully walked back up to the viewing platform. "Well, we have stocked up for long enough. Choose whatever world you like, apprentice. I give you the freedom of choice in this matter."
The sea of stars visible from the viewing platform was vast, only the Sith fleet orbiting the space station occasionally shadowed the view. Revan stopped, observing it once again. It was quite striking to think that all that would soon be hers. She beckoned Malak closed.
"Consider it a gift from me."
For a moment, they stood there together, watching the snub fighters circle around the capital ships and the interdictors assemble around the Star Forge. They both gazed at the fleet with unhidden pride – they had succeeded in their task and recovered the Star Forge. Soon, the Republic would be crushed and the Sith Empire would arise again.
While her gaze remained fixed on the stars, Revan´s arms arose to adjust the Sith mask back to her face. "Have you chosen?"
Malak nodded slightly, not too happy about seeing the mask again. "Yes. Telos is a good choice, what do you say?"
X X X
A lonely figure stood on the bridge of a large alien ship, gazing at the stars. Tall and slender, you could tell just by seeing the figure of the person was high-ranking and had an air of authority around them, a charisma that didn't need the support of words. It was simply there, unspoken, but certainly not unseen. The simple presence of the warrior was enough to create it.
The figure wore heavy armor-plated robes with markings of blood colors, but otherwise was clad in pure darkness – all the shades of obsidian. Gray was present only on the cape, but simply to show the darker patterns better. Boots seemingly of heavy steel were almost hidden underneath the long robe. The hood of the cape hid the head effectively, but even should someone want to look directly in the person's eyes, they would be out of luck.
The Dark One.
Yes, they would see a face, a frightening face with a narrow space where eyes should have been, blackness that revealed nothing beneath. Then, there were the markings, just like on the robes, crimson lines that seemed to be bloody gashes on an ashy skin, but there were no features visible.
The Faceless One.
To the galaxy, there was no greater figure on the political field than the Dark Lord of the Sith. Even the citizens of the Republic who hardly knew who the Supreme Chancellor was knew the tale of the "birth" of the Dark Lord well – the stories of the greatest of heroes that saved them from certain doom under the hands of the barbaric Mandalorians. And then, the sudden attacking blow that crippled the Republic, almost destroying it with a single strike. It was the precise attack that only one person could have coordinated so smoothly, so efficiently, and without any complications at all.
Their fears were only confirmed when the Sith chose a most unusual and, one had to say, original method of honoring their Lord and informing the terrified citizens of the Republic of their, so far, nameless nemesis. The mad soldiers, tortured to insanity and sent back to the Republic, constantly repeated that it was the Faceless One that had taken them, that the Dark One sends regards to the leaders of the Republic.
The final confirmation, however, were messages sent from conquered worlds that the Dark Lord visited personally, simply for the sadistic pleasure of seeing them, the people of the Republic, kneeling in the dirt as the Sith passed them. No one could miss the cheers of the Sith armies, soldiers in precise lines and the officers with them, roaring greetings. It was always a variation of the same.
"All hail Darth Revan, Lord and Master of the Sith!"
Revan, the lost hero of the Mandalorian wars, the brightest star, a supernova the Republic was clinging to, had turned into a black hole with ease, willing to swallow the galaxy in whole. Again, it was a Jedi turned evil. Again, the Order had disappointed, cast out one of its own, causing the exile to turn from sad to bitter, from bitter to enraged, from enraged to hateful. And thus their quest for revenge began.
Lord Darth Revan was, in many ways, like the Jedi Master Revan. Tactics so outrageous and brilliant that no one else could have ever dreamed of such eccentrics on the battlefield. Acceptation of losses and only mild celebrations of winnings. Believing that every soldier had their worth and their exact place in the whole structure that was the army. The loss of one affected the others. Feints, gambits, counterattacks, traps.
Emotionally, little had changed. With cool indifference on the outside and passionate emotion on the inside, which never reached the surface, the calm and elegant Revan was literally the best the Sith could have hoped for. A strategic genius, one of the most powerful Force users ever registered in the databanks, willing to listen to advice, if only to make the advisor seem a complete idiot by finding an outrageous flaw in their speech, never an fame-seeking, always manipulating events quietly from the background.
With the exception of a selected few, no one had ever seen Revan´s face. Only those who knew the Dark Lord from the times before the Sith war and served in the Republic fleet only to betray and turn to the Dark Side have, once or twice, seen a glimpse of the face beneath the mask. They have, however, never spoken of what they had seen, only that it was unique and they never have and never would see a face like that again.
Such an eccentricity as a Sith Mask on the Dark Lord's face at all times was the object of much speculation. All over the galaxy, there were rumors, theories, whispers… Some said that Revan had been mortally wounded in the battle against Mandalore and clung to the mask as a breathing device – the only means of staying alive. Many were against that theory, however. A wounded Dark Lord wouldn't receive as much respect and the Sith would seek to betray and remove Revan.
Others suggested that perhaps Revan was unfortunately disfigured and wore the mask to hide a frightening deformity. There were also theories that Revan was of a very rare kind of alien race, but they often split into speculations if the race needed masks to breathe, if it was a custom to hide one's face or if Revan didn't want people to see, for reasons similar to the deformity theory.
People who had the fortune to hear the Dark Lord's voice content or, in precious few moments, something that could be called happy, said that they had never heard such a strange timbre before. The voice, they said, was deep, so they couldn't define if it was masculine or feminine, but it was melodic and soft, almost like black velvet. If those who heard it outraged or enraged survived the encounter, they compared the voice to a spear of ice stabbing directly through one's heart.
It was nothing like the frightened voice of the Sith officer who timidly approached the Dark Lord, picking words carefully as if he were to be blasted into oblivion if he would make a grammatical mistake. "My Lord, the fleet is in position. The Leviathan has successfully managed to cut off the Republic capital ships as you ordered."
"Yes, I am aware of that, as you can see." A single gloved hand rose with grace, pointing at the battle beyond the window in front of the Dark Lord. The Sith fleet was considerably greater in number and it was only a matter of time before the Republic ships are all destroyed.
"But surely you didn't come just to tell me that, commander?"
The fear on his face was clearly visible when the faceless mask of the Dark Lord turned to him. The melodic voice was idly curious, Revan pointedly ignored his nervous gulp as blue eyes beneath the mask, though he didn't see them, but clearly sensed them, darted into his.
"My...my Lord…a… a team of Jedi Knights has boarded the Defiance."
Silence.
"How is that possible?" Were the soldiers truly incapable of doing something on their own? Annoyance more than anger found its way into the voice, but it was clear that a slight push could get it past the line.
"We…we don´t know for sure my Lord…"
The gloved hand made another gentle motion and the officer immediately felt a high pressure on his windpipe. He wasn't only choking – he was on the verge of fainting from the sheer force of the pressure.
"Wrong answer, commander." The comment was ice cold, but calm, as if the question was simply part of a pop-quiz.
The officer quickly used whatever energy he had left on trying to breathe and speak at the same time – air was required to explain things, if he was to survive. "B…Bastila …Jedi…using…B…attle…M…editation…"
A second later, oxygen rushed into his lungs. The officer inhaled sharply, deeply, as if he hadn't breathed for a week. Revan, on the other hand, glanced outside without any kind of outward emotional display. This move of the Jedi was unanticipated. It wasn't like them to rush into direct action like this, at least not with their single ace exposed for her to grasp. It didn't make sense.
Yet… there was also something about it that did make sense. This whole battle seemed to be going too smoothly, even for her tastes. It was as if the Republic's intention wasn't to survive, simply keep the Sith occupied until they could…
A rush of Huttese swearwords passed through Revan´s mind. Lucky shuttas. They actually devised a semi-good plan of action this time.
"It's a trap." Was the whispered murmur. Then, the voice rose again. "Commander, I want all the Dark Jedi on this ship to prepare for my defense at once. Press on the attack with the snub fighters to distract the Republic fleet and send word to Darth Malak that he has my permission to start the full offensive. Pull back Ghost Squadron to cover us while we deal with the intruders. The Jedi will come here in time. Make sure they get a warm welcome."
"Yes, my Lord Revan."
X X X
Several kilometers away from the Defiance, the Leviathan, one of the best ships in the Sith fleet, fired and hit yet another group of Republic fighters with precision. These fools were no challenge for the ship's firepower, not with the Rakatan enhancements installed in it. The whole fight was boring. It was just a matter of wiping them out.
Just like on the Defiance, a lone figure stood on the bridge, watching the battle. Darth Malak, the Dark Lord's chosen apprentice, general and second-in-command, stood there, paying mild attention to the goings-on around him. Yet another victory by default by Revan, it seemed.
Unlike Revan´s midnight black colored attire, he was dressed mostly crimson, black serving only as his half-cape and the streams of fabric attacked to his belt, giving the armor a more robe-like appearance. The most bizarre thing about him, however, was clearly the strange vocabulator on his face, covering his ears and his jaw – or rather, what remained of it.
Even the memory still made him wince. The flash of crimson… and then, there was only pain. He saw Revan towering above him. Her eyes were hidden, but they clearly showed contempt. Wordlessly, he was being reminded that he stood no chance against her. In that very moment, seeing that whatever he did, he could not best her, he loathed her more than the rest of the universe. He loathed her because even then, he wanted to see the eyes beneath the mask and immerse himself in their beauty, though it would be a cold splendor.
He wanted to die that day.
And he thought he was going to, truly. After an open uprising against her supremacy and the challenging duel she seemed to have handled without problems, he was certain that death was looking at him from behind the mask. He would die by Revan´s hand.
He didn't.
Revan wounded him terribly during the duel and finished the job afterwards, but it wasn't a mortal blow. She allowed him to live. But it was a life of knowing that he was defeated, that others would soon strive to take his place, seeing that he had failed in replacing his Master. And they honored Revan even more for letting him live, for the humiliation his face presented was far worse than death.
There was nothing he could do now, other than become her obedient slave, his silent hatred for her the single thing that kept him going. Bitterness that arose from the hatred demanded vengeance. But he knew that that day would never come.
Admiral Paytah, the officer Revan had assigned to his ship, approached him. Malak hated the man. His reason was simple – Revan was known for strategic brilliance. But the same couldn't be said about him. Thus his Master insisted on having this idiot on board to "counsel" him. Of course, everyone knew that the Admiral was there to keep an eye on him and make sure he wouldn't do anything stupid.
These humiliations, though unintentional – Revan didn't pay much attention to him now, too busy building an empire – were infuriating.
Paytah, who was, very surprisingly, a Zeltron (surprisingly because this humanoid species was known for its passion for gamble and love and a fury if these things were taken away from them), a reddish-skinned humanoid that learned to control his emotions (at least enough to be taken into the military) and create strategies brave and well-crafted enough to attract Revan´s attention slowly ascended when it came to military rank, ending up as the Grand Admiral after the Mandalorian Wars. A fierce admirer of Revan´s strategic and ruling skills, he was one of the few people who were closer to the Dark Lord, close enough to know her face.
Malak never liked the Admiral. Reasons mostly concerned Revan, naturally. The Zeltron was smart in the fields Revan considered important, almost too willing to please his Master and rarely caused a mess that would grant him the Dark Lord's rage. Besides, the Zeltron race was also known for an ability to love other beings unconditionally and Malak had good reason to suspect that the Admiral viewed Revan not only as a military leader and warrior, with the glances he sometimes caught and the sly smiles he witnessed.
Ever since that realization, Malak decided he didn't like aliens, Zeltrons in particular.
Paytah bowed slightly, though it seemed almost ironical, just as the tone sounded almost patronizing. "Lord Malak, Lord Revan has given the order to start the full offensive. We are to begin assault in sector G4 ASAP while Ghost Squadron pulls back to the Defiance."
Nodding with a soft growl of agreement, Malak suddenly realized something. Turning to the Admiral, he arched an eyebrow delicately. "Has my Master mentioned why Ghost should pull back? They are doing their job fine and we can use the extra firepower."
"Apparently, some Jedi managed to board the Defiance. A petty band of mediocre fighters, to be certain, thus the Dark Lord didn't want to cause a commotion. Ghost is pulling back to defend the ship, if they attack it. As I understand it, you have temporary control of the fleet until the next order is given out. Lord Revan wishes to deal with the intruders personally – it seems that Bastila Shan is among them, I'm sure you know the name." Paytah recited smoothly, receiving a nod in response.
"Very well, proceed with the offensive, as Revan ordered. Maintain communication with the Defiance until we receive further orders." Paytah nodded sharply and marched off to carry out the orders.
Again, Malak proceeded to watch the battle. The Sith fighters had grouped themselves around the Defiance, circling the flagship like bees, easily defending it. How Revan managed to fight and still command a ship, he had no idea, since the Defiance was still battle-ready.
Be unpredictable.
That was one of Revan´s personal quotes. Surprise was a strong element on the battlefield. The fact that Jedi had boarded her ship must have caught even her by slight surprise, but she was always known for overcoming shocks without much problems. Nothing ever caught her unprepared for long. It was remarkable just how easily that woman could adapt.
Watching the battle, an outrageous idea crossed his mind. Now was clearly the moment Revan wouldn't… no, it was way too risky. But… this was the moment when her mind was focused on one direction. He was supposed to watch her back now, just in case. The realization came even to the mind of an amateur in battle strategy.
She was vulnerable.
Her trust… she had put her trust into him, expecting him to obey the command and not see the possibilities. This was the day of revenge, the moment he could avenge all the years of feeling second-best, the humiliation, the ignorance… today, he could beat Revan. A fair battle would be his demise, but a strike from the back, a quick betrayal when she didn't anticipate it… he had a chance in a double-cross. Even so strong a Force user wouldn't be able to survive the destruction of her ship.
Vaguely, he recognized that he had decided. No more hatred, no more love, no more nothing. There was only revenge. He would do it and end the madness once and for all.
"Admiral." He called out, his voice slightly hoarse.
Paytah, currently discussing something with a lieutenant, cut the conversation off and hurried back to Malak, mocking obedience without even trying. "Yes, milord?"
"I'm changing orders. Turn the ship. Full power once we get into range. We aim for the Defiance's bridge. Fire at will, give it all you can."
For a moment, there was a dead silence on the bridge. Paytah opened his mouth and closed it, repeating the process several times. The rest of the soldiers were gawping at him and Malak, waiting to see what would happen next.
"The Defiance, milord?" Paytah repeated, his voice a bit choked. "Lord Revan´s ship?"
"Is there any other Defiance around, Admiral?" Malak noted, sarcasm dripping from each syllable.
"You… wish to destroy our own ship? Kill Lord Revan? This is betrayal!" he exclaimed, "And a cowardly one at that! In the middle of a battle, you cannot…" The sentence was cut off by a choking sound.
Malak turned away from the window and glared at the dying Zeltron, speaking only when the Admiral dropped to his feet, lifeless. "I can and I will, Admiral Paytah." His cool golden eyes then zoomed past each crewmember. "The choice is yours. But remember… Revan is there," he pointed at the Defiance, "And I'm here!" he roared, a subconscious spark of lightning flying from his fingertips.
The crew was motionless for just a few seconds. Then, a lieutenant began ordering them around. All began setting the new course.
X X X
Three Dark Jedi and two Sith troopers arrived for Revan´s personal defense. She sent the others to find the Jedi and kill them if possible and although she knew that they could fail, they would weaken the Jedi and slow them down.
Minutes passed and Revan was still watching the battle in front of her. She occasionally shouted orders through her comlink. The tide of the battle was turning against the Republic, no doubt because Bastila was with the strike team and they were without the aid of her power. The Sith flagship moved into attack position.
"Aim for the wings! Fire on my command!" The Republic flagship was defenseless against their sudden assault, because they were too busy fending off the snub fighters.
"Fire!" Revan yelled.
Before she even finished the word, the Defiance opened fire on the right Republic cruiser, while the Leviathan fired on the left. Within seconds, the ambushed vessel exploded in a rain of sparks, the disappearing remains shining like a supernova for a moment. The other ships quickly rushed to the center to protect the flagship.
"Snub fighters, engage assault! Star cruisers Leviathan and Defiance, prepare for tandem attack!"
Several voices quickly replied: "Affirmative, Lord Revan." And the ships did as she ordered.
What were those Republic fools thinking? They send their "only hope" straight into her clutches – oh, what tactical brilliance! Well, the Republic was never known for its intelligence. While that little brat was using her Battle Meditation, Revan had a hard time in thinking up a strategy that the Republic wouldn't expect. But thanks to her charisma, her very presence, the troops under her direct command and those who heard her words through their communicators never lost faith or the will to fight. They would destroy, torture and kill just to hear that voice say "Well done."
The strike team's presence was clear on the flagship – her enemies were coming to meet their doom. Whatever they were searching for, they would never get it. The Jedi were fools – they don´t believe in executing prisoners. They could even be thinking that they could "redeem" her.
But what redemption could one who had never been tainted reach?
If anyone could be redeemed of their foolishness, it would be them, if they weren't too blind to see it. But not all of them were worthy of the honor. There was only one of them that interested Revan – Bastila. The Republic still had hope with her. The single thing that could bring her the ultimate satisfaction would be to show them that all their efforts are in vain, that all their hopes are false and that even this little Jedi wouldn't save them, no matter how much she could influence the tide of the battle.
She heard the familiar sounds of lightsabers and a door opened. Revan slowly turned around. A single Jedi. It was a young woman, no, a girl that had gray-blue eyes and mahogany hair, tied to the back of her head in two short pigtails. Her face was pale, almost white, but that could have been also because she saw the dark hooded figure standing mere feet in front of her. She was dressed in a tan bodysuit and held a yellow lightsaber ready in her hand.
The Dark Jedi stepped in front of Revan, ready to protect their Lord with their very lives. Several red lightsabers flashed to life, all held in offensive positions. The girl gripped her weapon, gritting her teeth. Dark Lord was pleased to feel her anger, fear and – most importantly – desperation. Revan folded her arms, smirking under her mask. The Dark Jedi all felt the silent command that their leader sent them through the Force and even the Sith troopers could tell what Lord Revan commanded them – it was what they yearned to do.
Kill her. Painfully.
All of the Sith readied their weapons and the Dark Jedi charged at the girl. But she was strong in the Force and Revan rightly assumed that this was Bastila – the Jedi with the gift of Battle Meditation. The Dark Lord watched her with some interest, not interrupting the combat. Bastila battled the Dark Jedi and was able to best them after some time.
"The Force fights with me!" she shouted once during the battle. Revan was quite amused at that. Finding an opening, she slashed the Dark Jedi across his waist. The Sith troopers were already dead. When the last Dark Jedi fell dead to the floor, two other Jedi emerged from the corridors, followed by another one. Lightsabers ready, the Jedi Strike Team stood before Darth Revan.
The Sith Lord killed a Republic soldier that came with them, foolish enough to attack her, without even moving her hand.
The final weapon – a work of art rather than a lightsaber – was ignited, the red fire showing no warmth.
"You cannot win, Revan!" said Bastila, not quite sure whether it was a threat or a plea to stop.
But the Dark Lord struck an offensive position, the tip of her saber aimed at the Jedi. For a moment, the scene seemed to freeze.
A second later, the place where Revan stood exploded.
Everyone on the bridge was thrown a few meters away, falling flat on the ground. The Jedi were lucky enough to be out of the way of the real explosions, but Revan got the full blast of plasma and electricity. She could feel strength leaving her as she lay there on her back…but she had to know what happened. With a last wave of strength, the Dark Lord looked through the wide window as she lay there, dying.
The Leviathan. It started bombarding the Defiance. At that point, something within Revan broke. She now knew perfectly well what was going on – Malak thought he could destroy her and the Jedi at the same time and usurp her rule.
Escape the flagship and then extinguish him and the little band of rebels painfully for their unsuccessful attempt.
Such was the way of the Sith. But she realized that she couldn't. The Dark Side was failing her, defeated by something that she thought ceased to exist within her when she claimed the Sith throne…a small burning flicker of the light, chasing away the shadows in her mind. A single tear fell down her cheek, but the mask hid her sad expression. Whatever remained of her heart was effectively broken.
The Force was slowly embracing her…she noticed that someone was watching her and saw the Jedi Bastila kneeling above her. But instead of anger, there was sadness, grief and maybe even compassion in her eyes. Gathering all the strength that remained within her, Revan opened her mouth to speak words so soft only Bastila could hear them. All that she had worked for was for nothing. A sacrifice that made no real difference, the foolish idealism of one little ingénue who thought she could save the universe. She saw that now.
"Forgive me."
And there was only darkness.