Mission stared disbelievingly out of the viewport as the Ebon Hawk touched down on the surface of Korriban.
"This is it?" she demanded. "This is the place the Sith, like, came from? I can't believe it - it's like, it's like, even a rancor wouldn't want to live here, and they're like, every damn where..." She wrinkled her nose up in disgust. "I mean, like, this place - man, and I thought like, Tatooine was a total shit-hole, right? Like, it's a total desert or something and what could be worse than a desert, huh? I don't see any plants out there - and this place ain't even a desert, like, it's like... all the green stuff's just packed up and moved out or something." Mission twitched her lekku in disapproval, and turned away from the viewport.
Jolee stroked his beard and sucked at his teeth. "Hmph. Don't let this planet deceive you, child. Worse things than rancors to be found here, and that in wild abundance." He stepped back so that Revan could have a better look at their new surroundings. "See anything familiar, son?"
Revan stared at the immediate bleakness of Dreshdae. Beyond the boundaries of the settlement, the vast, craggy, windswept landscape of Korriban spread outwards in all directions. Mission was right - there wasn't a single plant in sight. He wondered how the native fauna that Jolee had described to him managed to survive: being at the top of the food chain wasn't much use to an animal if there wasn't enough below it to keep the balance of nature in check...
Then it hit him. Imbalance. Of course - the whole planet was hideously imbalanced! It was thoroughly corrupted - thoroughly immersed in the Dark Side - utterly out of sync, a denial and a perversion of the delicate balance of life - a denial of the preserving laws of nature which themselves made life a continuing possibility. Revan thought to himself that if this were so, one could reasonably expect the native fauna to be nothing short of abhorrent and dangerous - perhaps even Force-resistant or brimming with the Dark Side of the Force. After all, their very existence was itself a massive denial of the fundamental laws of nature...
Jolee nudged Revan for a reply. "Recognise the place?"
Revan shook his head and moved away so that Juhani could have her turn to look. "Not one bit. I got a bad feeling about this place, though."
Cracking his knuckles, Jolee sniffed and replied. "Hmph. Bad feeling is better than no feeling, in my book. This place is bad, bad karma."
The Cathar Jedi turned away from the viewport with a visible shudder and looked at the two Jedi. "There is great darkness here. Horrible. Why would anyone embrace it?"
Revan grimaced and hung his head, reminded of a past he could not remember, and with which he had yet to come to terms. Realising that she had unintentionally raked up painful thoughts, Juhani hurried to remedy the hurt.
"I am so sorry - please, it is not you - not anymore. I know that! We know it!"
"I know." Revan looked up, a sad smile on his face. "Doesn't change my past, though." He exhaled softly and left the cockpit.
Lost in thought, Revan wandered the corridors of the Ebon Hawk aimlessly. What had he done as the Dark Lord? He knew, from the little that Master Lamar and Bastila had been willing to divulge, that Darth Revan had been a deadly, formidable foe. His researches in the Enclave's library had painted a similar portrait: Darth Revan had swept across the galaxy in the wake of the Mandalorian Wars like an unstoppable shadow, each strike and every attack surgical, precise, strategic, unwasted. Darth Revan was a man with a goal - but what had that goal been? Why did he - Revan - choose to become the monster? How many lives had Revan taken? Why Malachor? There had been so much death and destruction. And Darth Malak - the erstwhile apprentice - from whence did that thorn spring?
It was painful to think of: Darth Revan had destroyed so much, broken so many lives, and yet his legacy lived on - in Darth Malak, the current conflict, the numerous Dark Jedi and Sith Acolytes here in Korriban.
Revan stared blankly ahead as he wondered just how - and where - he could start to atone for the errors of his unremembered past. Was atonement even possible? He had brought the galaxy trembling to its knees, humbled the Order... and now he must piece everything together again.
Looking about him, he realised that he was sitting on the edge of a bunk in the women's cabin - Bastila's bunk. Her belongings - a change of clothes, some neatly-folded underwear, a simple hairbrush - and one or two small, personal effects sat untouched in the nook beside her pillow. Picking up the hairbrush, Revan observed that some hairs still clung to it. As he cleaned the brush by picking the hairs out of it, a conversation he had had with Jolee the last time they were on Dantooine sprang to mind.
He'd been sharing the fruit of his latest researches into Revan - ironic! - with the old man. In the course of their discussion, Jolee had told him about Nayama and her fall, confessing that he could not bring himself to end the woman he so loved. He had asked the old man if there was any hope for Jedi who fell - or if, once fallen, they were irretrievably lost.
"Lost?" A brief flash of pain in the old Jedi's eyes, quickly replaced with a serious, thoughtful depth.
"No, son - not irretrievably... up to a point. The Force is not unkind. It gifts us all with the power of choice: how we exercise that power is up to us. Falling doesn't strip you of your power of choice - not all at once: you have to choose, each step of the way, whether you will fall further... or if you want to turn back. And though the Force will not save you from the consequences of poor choices, it's always reaching out... calling, seeking those who have lost their way. How varies from person to person. It might be a friend, a teacher, a foe, happenstance - even a loved one. The warning signs and the invitations to return are marked out all along the way - but if one chooses time and time again to fall, a little further each time, gradually the path becomes so dark that you can't see no warning nor invitation... and then it becomes harder to turn back, because choice is now almost impossible to exercise. After all, if you can't see the options, do you really have any choice?"
"So... redemption is possible - but you have to work hard to earn it?"
Jolee had been alarmed at his conclusion, and quickly corrected him. "No - now put that idea straight outta your mind, son...! Force have mercy...! You don't 'earn' redemption, boy - it's offered to you, just like I said! You either takes it, or you don't. 'S as simple as that. Remember them warnings and invitations all along the Dark path I told you about? Well. Right there's redemption! Like what's his face - Ulic - Ulic Qel-Droma - he didn't go lookin' for redemption: redemption went lookin' for him. Lil' Vima! Led by the Force, and no doubt about that...!"
"But surely there must be something - atonement?"
The old Jedi narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. "Eh? I thought you were supposed to be smart, boy! Look, I'm gonna make this simple, 'cos I'm old, and I don't want my jaw goin' arthritic. Redemption's a gift. You junk it, your choice. Stay Dark, suffer the consequences. You take it, fine an' good - you still suffer consequences, but now you have a chance to make amends - if you wish to. Making amends in order to earn, or 'pay up' whatever due you think you owe the Force for saving your ass is missing the destroyer for the ion cannons, 'cos second chances are only given to the undeserving. Puttin' things right because it's the right thing to do, or because you're grateful - which you bloody well better be - now that's different..."
Things became overwhelmingly clear.
There was nothing he - Revan reborn - could do to atone for or expunge the dark deeds of his past. There was nothing he could do to earn his return to the Light. But the Force had seen him walking a path that led to certain destruction, and had intervened: Darth Malak, Bastila, the kooks on the Council. It had set him back on his feet, given him that undeserved second chance - and let him decide if he wished to take it. So far, he had chosen well - but those choices were the choices of a man who did not know who he was: arguably, the choices of a man who had never strayed from the Light.
Now, knowing who he truly was - Revan, once Dark Lord of the Sith - he stood at the crossroads. If Revan was truly to be redeemed, Revan must recognise, acknowledge, and accept the Force's offer. The Dark Side would not give up its prey without a battle, he knew. The way ahead - if he accepted redemption - would be beset with difficulty, but it would not be an impossible path. "With the Force, a Jedi may accomplish what at first seems impossible," Master Kavar had told him when he first came to Dantooine. And if the Force had offered him redemption, then it stood to reason that the Force would also be with him as he made his way back to the Light.
He pulled the last strand of hair free from the brush, and laid it alongside its fellows. Gathering up the strands, Revan coiled them neatly into a circle, which he fastened with a stray thread plucked from the fraying edge of Bastila's blanket. Then, tucking the little circlet of hair into a fold of his tunic, just over his heart, Revan stood and walked purposefully out of the women's cabin, purpose shining in his eyes.
Revan had made his choice. He would accept redemption, come what may.
Bastila shrieked as Darth Malak sent Force Lightning coursing through her, convulsing violently on the stone slab to which she had been shackled.
"I will never turn, Malak!" she gasped as the last of the Force Lightning faded, returning the ancient mausoleum - it could only have been a mausoleum - to its depressing half-light.
"'Never' is a very long time to suffer, my dear Bastila," said Darth Malak as he adjusted the voice control on his prosthetic jaw.
"Revan will be here soon," spat Bastila, turning her face away. The sight of Darth Malak sickened her. The pompous, arrogant brat! ...at least he had let her keep her clothes on.
Darth Malak laughed mirthlessly. "You think so?" Pausing for dramatic effect, the Dark Lord raised a gloved finger and shook it at the captive girl. "You don't know Revan like I do, Bastila."
"He is not as you remember him!"
"Oh, come now - you cannot be so naïve. Revan inspired loyalty - because he himself was intensely loyal. And you, my dear girl, have betrayed him."
Bastila bit her lip and stared daggers into the wall. Darth Malak strolled about the mausoleum and rattled on.
"You, the Masters he met on Dantooine... everyone in the Order. Look at it from his point of view. What reason have any of you given him to trust you?" Darth Malak paused mid-circuit and turned to face Bastila. "Of course, you are thinking that Revan will make an exception where you are concerned - you believe he loves you."
Shutting her eyes, Bastila did her best to ignore the deceptively placid tones of her captor. Of course Revan loved her! The silly man had done his best to highlight the obvious - polishing her boots for her when he thought she was asleep, making her breakfast... generally going out of his way... and then there was the kiss they had shared.
"...and of course, you must be thinking - with the Enclave destroyed, the Council on Coruscant are certain to send out a search-and-rescue party. Only, my dear Bastila - have you thought of why? Why Revan loved you - why the Council would risk more precious Jedi when so many have already died, just for you?"
"Revan and I are none of your business, and the Jedi respect all life!"
Darth Malak bellowed with laughter, and cast more Force Lightning at Bastila. Her tortured screams echoed down the hall. When all was still again, the Dark Lord bent over Bastila and whispered in her ear.
"The Council are interested in you only for your gift, my dear. Your precious Battle Meditation. And as for Revan..." - the Dark Lord of the Sith paused and stroked the edge of Bastila's jaw almost gently - "...he is a man, and like any man, Revan cannot help but admire a beautiful woman. But if he believes her to have betrayed him..."
The mirthless laugh returned, accompanied by more Force Lightning.
Carth smacked his palm onto his face and rubbed vigourously as soon as the Twi'lek Sith Master was out of sight. "What is this, now?" he moaned. "Earning 'prestige'? Holy mother of meteors...! A frackin' popularity contest -"
"It passes, I think, for grades in this place," sniffed Juhani as she looked around the small cell. "Though I would do the best I can to forget this 'Code' that they teach here, if I were yourself. It is a perverse thing."
"Speaking of grades, O Great Leader... I mean, Master - how exactly do you plan on improving your average?" quizzed Carth. "According to Teacher, you either kill, lie, steal or connive your way to the top - not exactly Jedi, if you get my meaning." He looked expectantly at Revan.
"Means I can't waste any time. Got to be faster, smarter, and wiser than all the hopefuls out there. And much, much more careful too - if I'm to survive this place... or come out of it 'still Jedi', as you've said. That's why I need the both of you to stay with me," stated Revan matter-of-factly. "Three pairs of eyes is better than one. Besides, I'll need all the moral support I can get."
"Then we have no time to lose," Juhani stated. "Where intend you to be starting?"
Revan considered for a moment before replying. "Well - she did mention the existence of four Sith tombs, roundabouts. And Uthar Wynn has hinted that there are artefacts in one or more of the same that he'd be interested in. Anyone up for a spot of tomb-raiding?"
Juhani and Carth agreed wholeheartedly with this proposition, it being the least objectionable method of garnering 'prestige' they could think of. These were Sith tombs, after all, the contents of which arguably already belonged to the Sith... and what with the long-dead status of the tomb occupants, they would hardly be obliged to engage in murder.
The trio set off down the long corridor leading to the central atrium at a brisk pace, Revan leading the way with Carth at his side. As Carth rounded a blind corner, he collided with a young Sith student who had been engrossed in reading something off a datapad. The datapad clattered to the floor. Murmuring apologies, Carth stooped to pick up the dropped item.
"Frackin' fool - use your eyes or I'll gladly relieve you of them!" snarled the student angrily, his hands balling into fists. Carth stood and stared incredulously at the student - the boy sounded just like Dustil... he even looked like Dustil - by the Galactic Core... it was Dustil...! The datapad clattered to the floor again.
"Dustil...? ...my son...!" Wonderment, incredulity and hope danced across the Republic officer's features, quickly replaced by shock and horror as he realised that his son - his dear little boy - was now under the tutelage of the Sith. The Sith! Carth's fatherly heart cried out in woe.
Juhani blinked hard. She stared at the young Sith student - he looked so much like Carth! But how old was he? so hard to tell with Humans... maybe eighteen? - then at Carth, who was struggling to maintain his composure, and back at the young Sith again.
Dustil's right eyelid twitched involuntarily as he glared at his father. "I have no father," he hissed.
No father! Carth tried to reason with his son. "Dustil - I don't know what they've told you in this place... or what they've done to you, to - to force you to - "
"Nobody 'forced' me to do anything! When you left Telos, I was all alone with Mother. Have you any idea how much we missed you? It was always that precious Republic of yours that came first. Not us! And then when Telos was attacked - where were you and your precious Republic ships? Nowhere! I watched Mother die. I watched as her blood seeped into the soil of our garden. Where were you?" demanded Dustil angrily.
Revan rolled his eyes in disbelief. Family drama? Here? Now! Aww, nuts. He grabbed both men by their collars and hauled them into an empty storage closet where the argument could continue unheard.
Dustil bristled with rage at being peremptorily stuffed into a small space with three others, one of whom he had no particular liking for. He lashed out verbally at Carth. "You promised to look after us. You always said you would take care of Mother, but where were you when we needed you? Where were you when she was hurt? I was captured, did you even know that?"
"Son, I - I came as soon as I could... you have to understand all of Telos was surrounded by the Sith...! We had to fight our way through the blockade, they didn't make it easy -"
"You should never have left us! Mother would not have died if you had been there, doing your job!"
"I looked everywhere for you, Dustil - everywhere! Nobody knew where you were - "
"That's because I had been captured - you never listen, do you? But here - here, everyone listens! I have a family now - a real family - here! You always said the Sith were trouble, but the Republic's worse! The Republic took you away from us - the Republic took Mother away from me - "
Carth couldn't believe his ears. He wanted badly to make Dustil see sense - but he knew his son. Dustil was not the most reasonable of persons when upset, and Dustil had loved his mother very much. He tried a different approach. "Dustil... my son... Yes. I was late. But not because I did not love you... or mother. I have missed you both for - for so very long. It's all right if you won't believe me, son. You say the Sith are better than the Republic, that they're your family now - "
"Well, they are!" retorted Dustil. Carth held his hands up in a gesture of placation.
"Fine. I just want the best for you, Dustil. I always have. So give me this one chance, all right? Family is about trust. It's about respect, love, mutual help... all of those things, but it's also about openness and trust. Now, if the Sith are really family to you, then you have to be able to trust them, one hundred percent. Right?"
Dustil glared at his father, but did not disagree.
"I'm going to make a deal with you, my son. Don't tell anyone that... well, that we're here" - Carth gestured at himself and the two Jedi - "and if by the time we're done here, I still haven't given you solid proof that the Sith are evil, you're free to join them." Carth waited for a response.
Stubborn and vexed though he was, Dustil Onasi was still not beyond reason entirely. His father's offer made sense to him. A large part of him yearned to be back in the home he had grown up in - Mom, Dad... even just Dad now would be great... it would be like old times, when he could talk about his day and share the things he had done, places he had gone to... people he had met... Dustil nodded his assent. Carth set his lips in a grim smile of relief.
"Thank you, son. It's good to see you again. I love you."
"Whatever." Dustil Onasi pushed his way out of the tight confines of the closet.
The interview was over.
Bastila squinted and turned her head, craning her neck in the hope of spotting some glimmer of light - even a faint glow would suffice - to no avail. Her surroundings were dark, dark, dark. How long had she been here? Night, day, sunset, sunrise - she did not know. Everything had rolled together into one dark, depressing whole, broken only at odd intervals by Malak's visits. And always they were the same: endless questions, torture - always Force Lightning - though occasionally Malak would amuse himself by choking her. Bastila was thankful that he had left her otherwise unmolested. Her wrists and ankles were blistered from the manacles that had been clamped to them, and she was hungry. Not starving: just ravenous. Malak had been careful to keep her well hydrated and fed - but only enough to sustain life. She could barely summon the energy to focus her thoughts, or draw sufficiently on the Force to touch the bond she shared with Revan, never mind find the strength to jailbreak herself.
She wondered where Revan was now - and how he was getting on in their mission. Would he come for her? Now that he knew? Eventually he would have to find her - if not by choice, then by force of circumstances... after all, it had been the goal of this mission to end the Sith menace - now Revan knew about the Star Forge, he would have to find it... and Malak would be there, waiting. Bastila was sure of it. And when Revan destroyed Malak... would he remember her? Would he free her, take her back to the Enclave... back to the Jedi, where she belonged? Or would he abandon her... because she had been complicit? Frantically, Bastila tried to reassure herself by replaying the times Revan had been affectionate to her in her mind. He loved her - of course he would remember her! - she'd ignored, or done her best to ignore, him at the time, but now she found herself trying to hold on to these bright moments before they faded away.
They tended to fade away a lot more now than they had at first - when she was new to this horrid place. Wherever it was. Maybe Malak was right - Revan was nobody's fool, and now that he knew of the game that the Council had played, and she too along with them... how could he ever trust her again? How could he love someone who had, to put it bluntly, 'played him for a fool'? But surely - Revan would understand - she had had no other choice: the Masters had sworn her to secrecy, their need had been dire...
...would the Council send rescuers? Did they even know she had been captured - Revan could relay the message... but would he? Would the rest of the crew? And assuming that a message was relayed... would the Council care enough to send someone? Maybe the Council would wait and see - it always did, preferring to mull over its decisions, convening endless discussions in committee before committing itself - but how long could she hold out? It had been ages before the Council approved the actions of the Revanchists, by which time half the galaxy was aflame. How long more could she wait? A horrible thought suggested itself. If Revan successfully destroyed the Star Forge and ended the Sith menace - she, Bastila, would no longer be as vital to the Republic's success as she had been...! Her Battle Meditation would no longer be needed -
Panic, apprehension and worry combined with her own insecurity to form a weight of considerable volume. Bastila struggled under it. No, no, no...! She must resist these thoughts - it was this place, it was the darkness - not just physical darkness... it was the Dark Side - encouraging, whispering these suggestions -
Bastila tried to make herself more comfortable on the slab to which she had been manacled, but shifting her weight only made the bruises and burns covering her body harder to bear. She gave up trying to move herself and stared into the dense blackness around her, expending the precious little energy she had left on holding off the fears that threatened to crush her.
A low, grinding sound echoed in the distance, accompanied by a tiny sliver of light.
"Still undecided, my dear Bastila?"
Malak was 'visiting'. Again.
Juhani, Carth and Revan sat in a circle discussing the day's events.
"Not bad for the work of one day," commented Juhani. "But I would be very careful about... redeeming so many at one go. Too quick you move, and here they will suspect."
"You mean the kids in that damp cave?" asked Carth. "I don't know if our friend here 'redeemed' them so much as... opened the doors for them to go out there and find their own way back - but your point is a valid one. Go easy, man. Any of these kids get caught, they'll probably be tortured, and then the Sith'll come looking at you."
"I'll be careful," promised Revan. "All the same, this place - this travesty - is the fruit of my own hands, and these kids would be living much better lives if not for the things I did as Darth Revan. I feel I owe it to decency to set them straight where the opportunity arises."
Juhani clicked her teeth. "Admire the intention, I do. And agree also with you that to make things... correct is only right. But to be careful, yes?" Revan smiled and nodded at the Cathar, who dropped the subject.
Scratching Carth lightly on the shoulder with her claws to get his attention, Juhani asked, "Your son! How old now is he?"
Carth frowned. "Dustil? ...nearing twenty. Good heavens - he's nearly grown -"
"...twenty, then," repeated Juhani to herself. "And how old, you are?"
"...thirty-eight, though I really don't see what sig-"
Revan did the math. "Eighteen's awfully young to have gotten hitched at, isnt' it?" he commented. "Nineteen, if one counts Dustil as not quite twenty..."
Juhani leant back against the wall and exhaled with a soft 'pfft'. "Do all Humans take mates so young?" she asked.
Carth wrinkled his face as he scratched the nape of his neck. "Erm, well - no, not... usually, but, ah... there are instances, exceptional circumstances..." he stammered. "We... well, um - you could say Morgana and I were... one of the... exceptions."
Smirking, Revan bit back a chuckle. He had a very good idea what these "exceptional circumstances" were. Putting an arm around Carth, he spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone. "Wonderful! You know, Juhani's always been interested in cultural studies - haven't you, Juhani? ...and as a fellow Human, I agree with you that marrying in one's late teens is indeed the exception rather than the rule. I think it would be very educational if you were to explain to Juhani when, and how, such... exceptions arise."
Juhani's eyes widened in puzzlement when she heard herself referred to. Put on the spot, Carth misinterpreted the Cathar's wide-eyed expression for one of enquiry and felt compelled to answer. Revan, you shit-stirrer! The Cathar are famous for their taboos regarding family - marriage in particular... He cleared his throat and tried to put it across as diplomatically as he could.
"Erm, well. You see, my wife - Morgana... erm, she was... we were young, and... in love, and ah, I loved her very much..."
"...much and often..." murmured Revan under his breath. Carth heard it and jabbed him sharply in the ribs, while continuing to talk. Revan drew up his legs, rested his forehead against his knees and tried not to laugh openly.
"...yes, erm, I mean - no - I mean..." Carth scratched his neck again. Juhani blinked.
"Ah, her family demanded it?" she queried. "But surely an engagement would have been sufficient for you to be seen together!"
Jawas on dewbacks - this is hilarious! thought Revan as he shook with suppressed laughter. He decided to give the simmering pot another stir.
"Yeah - why not just an engagement? I mean, no hurry, right?" Carth jabbed Revan in the ribs again.
Juhani watched her friends with great interest. So strange, these Humans could be!
"...ah, um... no. We... ah, we... decided that things... between us... had, ah, developed to the point where... we should just... tie the knot," said Carth, picking his words carefully.
Unable to contain his amusement further, Revan barked with laughter. "'Developed'! Ha ha ha! How many months' 'development' are we talking here?"
Carth threw Revan's arm off his shoulder and rubbed his forehead energetically. "...kriffing asshat," he muttered.
Months? Development? The Cathar gaped at the Republic officer in horror. "Carth Onasi! You did something to the girl! You made her with child! Didn't you?"
Revan had by now given up all pretence of ignorance, and was laughing for all he was worth. Carth flushed red with embarrassment and scuffed his boot at Revan.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah - laugh all you want, you nerf-herder...! Wait till it happens to you," scowled the Republic officer. "Look - we were young, all right? And in love! And I would have married her regardless - this... the, the... pregnancy just... hurried things along. It's not as if I was just messing with her..."
Juhani goggled. Did Humans have no sense of propriety at all? Sunry - growing 'tired' of his mate and having adventures with another woman! The nobles on Taris, always swapping spouses between themselves! And now Carth Onasi and his wife - married early because they could not wait! ...at least Carth had done rightly for Morgana, thought Juhani. From all that she had observed of Humans, she wasn't certain that many Humans would have done likewise.
"It is good to know you took responsibility," she informed Carth, before excusing herself.
Carth barely acknowledged Juhani's departure, preoccupied as he was with boring holes with his eyes through a still-chortling Revan.
"By the Twi'lek goddess, that was classic," coughed Revan, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Lieutenant Carth Onasi! Decorated war hero, legendary soldier... and teenage father. That's one hell of a resumé..."
Carth snorted. Viewed from that perspective, it was indeed funny. The corners of the Republic officer's mouth twitched upwards as he tried to maintain a stern expression.
"Shit-stirrer!"
"Teenage father!"
"Asshat."