Revan crept stealthily through the darkness of Naga Sadow's tomb, one lightsaber illuminating the way. Behind him lay the bodies of several hulak wraids. Those Revan had anticipated to meet with: what he had not was the strange atmosphere of this tomb. So very unlike any of the others. It was... different. Very different. The weird chill that permeated the air here had been absent from the other Sith tombs he had previously entered: it was a sort of brittle coldness that was almost palpable. How was he to describe it? It wasn't 'cold' cold - no, in fact the temperature was very comfortable - but there was a definite something, a sort of strange, icy something, in the air.

Ducking just in time to avoid landing a face-full of cobweb, Revan tried to pinpoint exactly what it was that he was feeling. Not physical cold. Metaphysical, then? Probably. This tomb felt alive - as if it pulsed with an energy. The Force? Yes, definitely the Force - only it felt strange, alien, oppressive. Most disturbing of all, it also felt familiar. Revan wiped the sweat on his brow and turned a corner. He knew that the familiarity stemmed from his previous career as Dark Lord of the Sith, a being immersed in and fully given over to the Dark Side of the Force. He couldn't remember the Dark Side or how it had felt to use it, what it had been like to wield such power: not consciously - but the Dark obviously remembered him.

Revan didn't like that.

It called to him, this coldness - this near-tangible darkness in the tomb. It called to the fallen Jedi, the antihero whose memories and persona had been rendered inaccessible by the Masters on the Council. It reached out to him, the old him, through the darkness as if saluting an old friend, holding out promises of unwonted power and vast stores of arcane knowledge.

Give in, sang the darkness to Revan in its siren voice. Carth and Juhani need never know. They are not here, after all - they are waiting in the Sith Academy. You would not be making the mistakes of Revan Past. He embraced the Dark: you will only be borrowing its strength... look at what he birthed! A vast, unstoppable armada. The galaxy will burn again, brighter and faster than ever it did if you do not survive... the Light is insufficient to carry you through, Revan. You need the strength of the Dark. A noble act, Revan - lose yourself to save the galaxy. Is not the life of a Jedi one of sacrifice?

"Aargh...!" Revan paused in his passage along a narrow corridor and pinched himself hard. "No. No, no, no...!" These ideas, these thoughts - they are a distraction. The Dark Side is strong in this place - stronger than any location I have visited thus far. It knows me, the old me - Revan, who had fallen once before - and it wants me back. Revan rested his forehead against the cold stone wall. Was this, then, the struggle with the Dark that Jolee had warned him of? What if he... allowed himself to fall, again? No. No! He could not - must not! - allow that to happen. The tide of suggestion receded for the moment.

He pressed on, and soon found his way blocked by a heavy stone door. A very soft, irregular snuffling came from behind it. What was that? As he bent to listen, the door creaked open of its own accord, revealing a vast chamber in which lurked two large, dark shapes. By the glow of his lightsabers, Revan could make out horns, claws... large, toothy, slavering mouths...

A crumpled something lay on the floor just a few feet away. Revan squinted as he tried to make out what it was - another wraid? No, those were remains - long decayed...

Moving very slowly so as not to alert the monsters to his presence, Revan approached the remains. A quick search turned up an old datapad and a corroded metal cylinder. Revan's fingers brushed across the metal cylinder as he retrieved the datapad. As the rusting metal of the cylinder crumbled into powder, a bright something glinted sharply in the dust. Revan picked it up. A crystal! So the cylinder - that must have been a lightsaber, and the remains - a Jedi? A Sith?

Revan quickly retired to where he could examine his finds without risk of being spotted by the beasts. He wiped the crystal gently on his tunic, and held it up to the light provided by one of his lightsabers. The crystal sparkled brilliantly, throwing flecks of light onto a nearby wall. Beautiful, thought Revan. Flawless and perfectly cut! As he rotated the crystal in order to view it better, he noticed that the gem had started to glow. It was as if some internal light source had been activated. Laying the crystal flat in his hand, Revan watched as the glow spread out from the centre of the crystal, growing brighter every moment until the entire crystal itself was hidden in light. Revan stared in wonderment at the crystal as it pulsed with a glory of its own. This cannot have belonged to a Sith, he thought. There is... there is something special, something comforting and out of the ordinary about this gem - it certainly doesn't feel Dark. I wonder what it is?

Remembering the datapad, Revan tucked the glowing gem into a pouch on his belt before powering up the small tablet and skimming through its contents. So the crystal had belonged to a Jedi...! Shaela Nuur - that was her name. Hang on - wasn't she one of the Three that the Council had sent to hunt down terentateks...? Poor woman - she had died alone in the end, her companions killed one after another, by the creatures they had been commissioned to slay. And then Shaela had come here - on the trail of a terentatek... Force - those things behind the door must be terentateks...!

Doubt entered Revan's mind. Didn't that Twi'lek Jedi in the Enclave describe those sent by the Council to execute the Great Hunt as being individuals strong in the Light Side of the Force? Shaela must have been a remarkable Jedi indeed to have been chosen for this mission - what had happened? If she - a Jedi devoted to the Light - had fallen in the end, what did that mean for him, broken and compromised as he was?

The seducing notions returned to haunt Revan - the new Revan - with a vengeance. Now you see that the Light cannot give you the strength you need to survive! If the Light truly is the strength of a Jedi, then it is paltry indeed. Terentateks are creatures of the Dark, warped and twisted. Yet they have slain, and drunk the blood of Jedi walking in the Light. Embrace the darkness, Revan! Be who you once were. Be strong. Powerful. Live! Fight fire with fire!

Revan struggled with the temptation. How was he to benefit anyone - how was he to find the Star Forge, much less destroy it - if he failed to survive this next challenge? How would he be able to find the fourth and final Star Map if he were to become terentatek fodder? Perspiration formed on his forehead as the conflict raged within him.

Fighting to centre himself, Revan re-read Shaela's datapad thoroughly. The entries, few though they were, sufficed to outline the career of the deceased: Shaela, a courageous Jedi... devoted to the Light side of the Force... her lover, slain by a terentatek... fear, anger, grief - turning into hate and loathing. A desperate thirst for vengeance had consumed her, and in that desperation, Shaela had consciously chosen the dark path, believing that it alone would enable her to accomplish what she desired to do... she had followed a terentatek back here - to its lair! - fully intending to assail and overpower it in the power of the Dark Side; and in the end, she had fallen alone in the darkness.

But surely her Force powers would have sufficed? Then he remembered something the Twi'lek Jedi in the Enclave had told him: terentateks were resistant to Force powers. Damn! But what about Shaela's lightsaber? Why didn't she use it? Could it have malfunctioned? That's crazy - why would a Jedi's lightsaber malfunction?

Then Revan remembered something he had heard recited whilst on Dantooine: "The crystal is the heart of the blade. The heart is the crystal of the Jedi. The Jedi is the crystal of the Force. The Force is the blade of the heart. All are intertwined. The crystal, the blade, the Jedi. You are one." The datapad screen flickered once, twice, and then darkened entirely, its battery fully drained.

One! thought Revan. Heart, blade, crystal, Jedi and Force - one! What did that mean? The Force, the blade of the Jedi's heart? How did that relate the Jedi to a crystal? ...a Jedi could only be the crystal of the Light for as long as -

Inspired with a sudden idea, Revan fished out the strange crystal he had found and stared at it with increasing interest. This crystal - could it be one of those legendary crystals he had heard Jolee and Juhani gossip about? One of those crystals overflowing with the Force? Was it possible that this crystal responded only to the Light...? The crystal glowed even brighter in his hand, as if it sensed his thoughts and was confirming them.

Revan's mind boggled at the implication. This crystal had once belonged to Shaela Nuur... and if it was truly one of those legendary crystals of the Jedi... then... Shaela had died precisely because she had chosen darkness over light...! If this crystal would respond only to one who walked in the Light - then when Shaela deserted the Light, it would have ceased to function... so it had not been the Light which deserted or betrayed Shaela: rather, Shaela had deserted the Light, and the Dark had betrayed her. Revan squinted at the crystal in his hand, which was now glowing so brilliantly that it looked as it if were on fire.

He smiled, finally understanding. When Shaela thought to answer fire with fire, forsaking the Light, she had unknowingly forfeited her greatest source of strength. The Dark was tempting, seductive, ever ready to make promises - but in the end, it would only bring desolation and certain destruction. The Light did not promise ease, comfort, power or even survival - but it assured one of its companionship and peace: to the end, and beyond. The comfort that such assurance brings - that in itself is priceless, and is its own strength and reward, thought Revan.

Firmly shutting his mind to the siren song of the Dark, he gripped his lightsabers tightly and marched on to face the terentateks.

Bastila stared disconsolately at her lightsaber, which she had partially disassembled. The yellow crystal she had been given on the occasion of her ascension to Padawan winked brightly at her - a happy, contented golden yellow that reminded her of lazy summer days spent lolling in the long grass of the Enclave garden, munching on fruit sneaked out of the kitchens...

Those days are long gone, Bastila told herself. The Order left me behind after I outlived my usefulness to it. Just like the Light Side of the Force has left me... and the Masters who sent me on that stupid mission... and the crew of the Endar Spire, they left me behind, too - if someone had been there in the pod with me, I mightn't have crash-landed and then been captured, and put up for auction... and Carth, and Revan...

...Revan. Has he forgotten me? thought Bastila. She allowed herself a moment's recollection. Revan, making her tea in the pantry, and getting it wrong half the time. Revan, laughing fit to kill himself when he'd found her asleep on duty in the cockpit and drooling all over the controls. Revan, forever finding new compliments to apply to her... she had sacrificed herself for him on the Leviathan - would he remember that? Maybe he would come back for her. And then, if he did, she would explain to him how things had happened - how she hadn't really fallen, how she hadn't chosen the darkness - the Light had deserted her, and the darkness was all that was left - she would explain to him how desperately alone she felt, how... misunderstood she had been, how she had been made use of, her trust and faith abused by a scheming Council, a grasping and corrupt Republic - nobody had ever seen her as just Bastila, or appreciated her for that: it had always been her Gift, how she was special. Would Revan understand that she just wanted to be liked and loved for who she was? Would he still see her as Bastila, even now?

A lump rose in Bastila's throat as she tipped the sparkling yellow crystal out and held it in her hand.

"You will destroy the crystal in your lightsaber and bring its shards to me," Darth Malak had instructed. "It will symbolise your severance from the Order and your renouncement of its ways."

Tremblingly, Bastila placed the gem in a specially-constructed metal vice. The crystal continued to glow brightly, its colour as happy and warm as ever. Her hand hovered over the lever. One push, and the vice would clench shut, shattering the perfect gem forever.

Bastila dithered. Revan had also given her a crystal - in fact, he'd given her several. She'd stuffed them all in one of the pouches of her utility belt. Surely one of them... Bastila's hand strayed to the pouch on her belt. Perhaps she could...?

The footsteps echoed warningly from outside. Malak! He must be coming to check on her! Panicking, Bastila pushed the lever down. The metal vice clenched shut with a sickening scratch. The footsteps stopped some distance away outside. A muffled exchange - then footsteps again, receding into the distance. A false alarm!

With an anguished cry, Bastila raised the lever. No bright, happy yellow sparkle greeted her eyes. Only a sorry-looking patch of crystalline powder lay where the gem once had.

She sank to her knees in inexpressible sorrow.

It was well past nightfall when Juhani, Carth and Revan returned to the Ebon Hawk. Canderous' alert eyes noted that each member of the returning party had been affected by their experiences in the Sith Academy in varying ways - Juhani had lost weight, while the worry lines and wrinkles on Carth's forehead and the sides of his eyes had deepened. Revan's walk had acquired a sudden gravity which was impossible to ignore. In a rare display of diplomacy, the Mandalorian had refrained from indulging in a full-scale interrogation of the trio. While Carth and Juhani went straight to the cockpit to commence takeoff, Revan nodded a greeting to Canderous and headed for the pantry in silence, not even bothering to remove his footwear, as he usually did. He didn't much feel like talking - there was a lot on his mind. Zaalbar howled softly to Canderous.

[Why is he so quiet?]

Canderous produced an oily rag and a tin of polish from one of his numerous pockets. "...kriffing in a world of his own," he replied. "He probably saw some crazy shit out there."

Crazy shit indeed, thought Revan as he approached the pantry. You have no idea! Torture routinely dished out as 'punishment' and 'discipline' for the smallest infractions, students encouraged to bully and demean their fellows, academic staff and senior hopefuls indulging their baser natures in ways too horrible to describe... instructors murdering students... students amusing themselves with inflicting suffering on others - the list of abuses went on and on.

The pantry was deserted and mercifully quiet. Revan slid to the floor and sat with his head on his knees as soon as the door slid shut, thankful for a quiet place in which to reflect. What a legacy Darth Revan had bequeathed to the galaxy! Was it not enough that he should have unleashed the bane of the Star Forge, that he should also have founded a training ground devoted to the propagation of the dark ways of the Sith? An Academy...! Brainwashing captive children - Force... did I write the curriculum here as well or are the maniacs back there making it all up as they go?

The pantry door slid open noiselessly, admitting an old, bearded man. "Credit for your thoughts?"

Revan looked up. "Hey."

"Hey." Jolee squatted in front of Revan, his knees clicking as he did so. The old Jedi winced and moved to sit on the bench. "Looks like someone could use a listenin' ear."

"I... don't know where to start."

Jolee stroked his beard and put on his most avuncular voice. "Mmm. Why don't you start with the thing that's buggin' you the most, and then we'll take it from there, eh?"

Might as well, thought Revan as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "There's just so much. Out there." He gestured ambiguously with a hand. "That I've done... as Darth Revan - which I don't remember. And now I don't know if I want to remember, which probably is not the right thing to say, because I really do want to put things right, as far as I can... because that would be the right thing to do - I, I owe the galaxy as much... you know?"

"Go on."

"...I mean, if, if I can't remember, how would I know what to put right, where do I start? And, the fact is - part of me wants to remember... so that I would know what to do - but there's an equally large part of me that doesn't want to... because I - well - I'm afraid to remember, I guess. Because I must have been incredibly... incredibly..."

"Immoral?"

"...immoral, amoral - call it what you will: bottom line is that I was a monster, Jolee - a monster - and that's not me now... I can't even start to imagine me doing the things Darth Revan did, much less want to do them... I don't know if I can handle remembering, is what I'm saying."

"Mmm." Jolee stroked his beard thoughtfully. "What you're saying is that you've seen the Korriban lot, what they're doing - and you feel responsible for that." Revan nodded. "And you're wondering what else is going down with the Sith in general - whether they've any other... academies?" Revan nodded again. Jolee cleared his throat and continued. "Knowing that you're responsible somehow for the Sith today, and that you once were capable of doing the things these Sith are doing - that's causing you grief. Especially because you want to straighten things out as best you can, since you feel you owe common decency as much. That it?"

"Yeah."

Jolee scratched at the stubble on his throat. "Anything else?"

"Bastila. It's been a week, Jolee." Sighing heavily, Revan pinched his forehead as he tried to express himself. "You know she sacrificed herself for me - for all of us here - so that we could get off the Leviathan. I... feel so guilty for having left her behind! Even though I know very well that that is what she wanted. What I'm trying to say is... Malak has her, and I know he'll try to turn her - and... it's not difficult to imagine -" He broke off abruptly.

A deep sympathy washed over Jolee. The old Jedi leant forwards and patted Revan reassuringly on the shoulder. "I know - and I understand, son. You don't have to say it." Time to take this conversation to a different level, thought Jolee. Slowly easing himself off the bench, the old Jedi settled himself on the floor directly across from Revan and nudged the young man with a foot.

"Son, this here's going to be one of those lessons everyone gotta learn in life at some point. And the sooner you do, the better." Revan raised his head off his arms briefly and gave Jolee an inquiring look. The old man might be strange and given to abstract, cryptic utterances, but there were usually nuggets of wisdom to be found buried beneath the seemingly random talk. The old Jedi cleared his throat and began.

"Ever spill milk on the floor? Of course you have. And then what do you do? Cry? Scream? Sure, if you're about five and don't know any better. But if you do, you find yourself a rag and you start moppin' up. Do you then squeeze the stuff in the rag back into your cup? No. You rinse out the rag, and maybe go over the floor again. Even then, the floor's never going to be just like how it was before you spilled milk on it, even if you do a darn good job of cleaning up. Fact! And sometimes, while you're cleaning up the mess you made, there's bits of it that you miss - because you didn't spot them. Does it make sense for you to stand there with a rag, worryin' about whether you've got to every single drop of milk? No. You just do what you must, for what you can - and you move on. Now you're thinking - but what about the bits of milk on the floor that I didn't do? What about the residue? Huh? Well, old Jolee's gonna tell you somethin' might make your hair fall out. It don't matter. That's right! You don't see it, but eventually, it'll all disappear. Some critter is going to find what you missed, and take care of it for you. Or maybe the drops just dry out on their own and crumble to dust."

Revan straightened and scratched behind an ear. He was fairly certain that Jolee had just been Very Wise, and that he'd been given an answer of some sort - but as always, he'd have to think it out himself. Noticing that Jolee was regarding him expectantly, Revan nodded for the old man to continue.

"Next thing you need to learn: things happen. I don't believe for a second that everything that happens is the Will of the Force - Sith happens, slaving happens, lots of terrible things happen - but does the Force want it that way? I don't think so. People have choice. Remember what I said about choice? Well, there you go. Sure, the Force has a purpose and some call it an ultimate goal - but it's people... beings, like you and I... who affect things directly. Mistakes get made. Bad things do happen. Why? Hmph. Hard to say. Maybe because the Force allows it. Maybe it has something to teach. Maybe because the time wasn't right. Whatever it is, the Force has a way of turning things around, eventually - and it's not for you, or for anyone, to worry about how the Force is going to do its job. You got that? Just do what you know is needed, what's right - and leave the rest. What I'm saying is, the ways of the Living Force are beyond our understanding... But fear not. You are in the hands of something much greater and much better than you can imagine."

Jolee stretched and stood to leave, grunting with the effort. His knees creaked audibly as he got to his feet. "Gettin' older all the damn time..."

Massaging his back with a fist, the old man ambled out of the pantry, leaving Revan to mull things over.

"My Lord...?" The Dark Jedi Master knelt before Darth Malak, his heart in his mouth. Darth Malak hated hearing bad news - and the news he had to bring was guaranteed to put the Dark Lord into an even fouler mood than usual.

"Speak."

"News from Korriban, my Lord."

Holding his hand out of the window he was standing next to, Darth Malak tilted his palm slightly. A shower of brittle, dull yellow flakes poured from it, blowing away in the wind - the remnants of his new Apprentice's former life. He addressed the kneeling figure in an unreadable tone.

"What of it?"

The Dark Jedi Master bowed a little lower. "We suspect that there... has been... an incident at the Academy, my Lord." The Dark Jedi ventured to glance up. No response, no warning in the Force - he thought it best to continue. "Our hails to Korriban have gone unanswered for the past two days. This is most unusual."

"You suspect an infiltration?" intoned the Dark Lord of the Sith. "Deal with it."

Shifting uneasily on his knees, the Dark Jedi Master tried to articulate the message he had to relay. "My Lord, there - there is something else. The Ebon Hawk is recorded to have left Dreshdae shortly before all communications were lost." Beneath his mask, the Dark Jedi Master gritted his teeth, anticipating the worst.

Darth Malak hissed. "The Ebon Hawk. Revan!" A large chunk of masonry detached itself from the cornice above, and hung suspended in the air for a moment before shattering and sending debris flying in all directions. The Dark Jedi Master bowed even lower, nearly prostrating himself - out of fear of the Dark Lord, and to avoid being hit by the shrapnel.

"My Lord, if Revan was on Korriban, then he may have found the St-" the Dark Jedi suddenly started choking. Gasping desperately for breath, he clawed at his throat, his eyes wild with fear. Darth Malak's voice rang above the pounding of blood in his head -

"Fool! Of course Revan has found the Star Map. He will follow the trail here." With a wheeze, the Dark Jedi collapsed to the floor, coughing as he inhaled dust with each thirsty gulp of air.

The Dark Lord of the Sith strode towards the exit, his cloak billowing behind him as he went. "I will return to the Star Forge. You will remain here, with the other Masters and the Acolytes. And as for my Apprentice..." Smiling evilly under his metal jaw, Darth Malak paused at the doorway, relishing the moment.

"...I am sure Revan will find their reunion most... unexpected."

HK-47 clicked disapprovingly as his photoreceptors registered their new surroundings. Sand! More sand! And salty water! He protested. "Exclamation: Master...! How you abuse me...! You deny me the pleasure of exterminating troublesome meatbags at my discretion. You forbid me from enforcing discipline and harmony amongst your collection of maladjusted misfit meatbag friends! And now you torment my servos with the presence of sand and water! Oh, Master, what are you trying to achieve?"

"Zaalbar! Arc wrench!" Carth poked his head out from where he was lying, crammed into a small space in the Ebon Hawk's undercarriage. A pair of bright blue lekku dangled from the open undercarriage hatch, and twitched irritably.

"And a cleaning rag, damn it!" added Mission, wiping her nose with a greasy hand. "The fans on this side of the engine are, like, totally filthy," she informed Carth. "I think they, like, kinda sucked in an avian, or something - while we were on our way down." The Twi'lek girl fished out an unidentifiable, bloody mess from one of the fans and dropped it to the ground, narrowly missing Zaalbar.

"...thanks, Big Z."

Carth wriggled in the narrow crawl space as he examined the Ebon Hawk's engineering carefully. Engines looked fine, though the wires in a few places could use some re-soldering... no signs of overheating... fuel lines holding up good...

"Oi! Bucket-head! What's it look like on your end?"

Canderous swore loudly as he scratched the back of his hand on a piece of twisted metal. "A couple of bad scratches, some large dents - easily fixed. Main problem is that the hyperdrive's karked."

Juhani threw her hands up in the air and said something in Catharese which nobody except HK-47 understood.

"Translation: I believe the Cathar meatbag just insulted the lineage of Darth Malak, Master. She referred to the mating preference of his mothe-"

"-that's all right, HK. I believe we're all a little short-fused today, no pun intended," said Revan quickly as he helped Mission down from the undercarriage. "Finding a new hyperdrive here is going to be tricky."

"Actually, maybe not," said Carth as he extricated himself. "On our way down, I couldn't help noticing that this planet - at least the bit of it we've landed on - is littered with ships. Some of them look like Republic cruisers... you know, left over from... the war. Anyway - with the sheer number of ships this planet attracts, I'd say odds are pretty good that at least one of the wrecks is going to have a viable hyperdrive -"

"We don't actually need an entire kriffing hyperdrive," corrected Canderous as he emerged from the top hatch of the Ebon Hawk. "What you want to look for is just the kriffin' fusion generator. You find me one, we're good to go."

Revan stretched and tugged at the neck of his tunic. This is one hell of a humid place! I think there are little biting bugs in the sand, too. He stamped his feet to shake off the itching that had started to work its way up to his ankle. It wasn't any good. "C'mon, old man. We got scrap to find." Turning, Revan started trudging up the beachfront towards a large knoll.

"I ain't goin' anywhere," Jolee called out. "Twenty years I been in the Shadowlands - and they don't call them the 'Shadowlands' for nothing, son! This old Jedi's gettin' some sun by the sea..."

"Irritated remark: Master, allow me. The old meatbag is clearly past his prime. If you order it, I will initiate termination protocols so that our resources are not wast-"

Revan balked. "No, HK! Look - I ah, I... think there are things on this planet which you would like to meet. Yes. You come along with me!" When all this is done, I'm going to have to find a protocol pacifist package and upload it into that psychotic droid, Revan told himself.

Canderous jogged up the beach to meet Revan. "Count me in. This place looked like a jungle from the air. You'll need someone who's familiar with jungle terrain." He thumped his chest. "That'd be me."

Wonderful, just wonderful! thought Revan. A sociopathic droid and a trigger-happy Mandalorian for company. What's next - rancors? Bloodthirsty, half-civilised natives? Cannibals?

He soon regretted those ideas.

Bastila watched as her Master's personal shuttle lifted off, receding until its lights were nothing more than a faint speck in the sky. The Dark Jedi forming the send-off party murmured amongst themselves, gathering into little knots of two or three persons as they descended to the large complex below. Only one shuttle craft remained on the plaza, a single-seater. That had been left for her use. Bastila wasn't sure she knew exactly what was going on, but thought that Malak probably intended for her to oversee operations in the sprawling complex in his absence.

How was she to do that, though? She didn't even know what this place was about - or who all these Dark Jedi were. She presumed that training of some sort happened within the complex - during her walks around, she had heard the sound of lightsabers clashing, as if their wielders were running through katas. And there were all these little locked rooms, which she'd seen people going in and out of. Meditation rooms? Or just bedrooms? She hadn't really investigated. Should she? After all, being the Dark Lord's apprentice placed her at the top of the pecking order, right? ...only Bastila wasn't too sure how to go about enforcing her pecking rights. Whatever those might be.

Damn the Jedi Masters, she thought. Here, I have more responsibility and trust than they ever saw fit to give me. She strolled from one end of the plaza to another, and back again. The setting sun was still warm - a little too much so for her taste - so Bastila went and sat down by a ventilation port. An evening breeze wafted over the plains and tickled her nose.

Leaning back against the masonry, Bastila allowed her mind to wander. If this is what it means to fall, then the Masters have got it all wrong. I don't feel bad. I don't feel like I'm a different person. Only... freer, less restrained. Like I don't have to keep watching my step all the way... being careful about the things I do or say, how I act... absolute, total freedom! How could I ever have been so stupid and narrow? Right, wrong, up, down... all that is just so much theory and posturing, narrow categories for narrow minds. Ha! And the Jedi call it 'wisdom'!

Bastila smiled lazily to herself in her contemplations. And my abilities with the Force have returned, too. Casually raising a small rock with the Force, she floated it a short distance away from its original position before sending it flying over the edge of the low wall enclosing the plaza. A dull cry sounded from the level below. Oops! Someone had been hit. Too bad, thought Bastila, giggling to herself. Serves them right for not being alert! What good is the Force to a person if they don't use it?

Closing her eyes, Bastila drew on the Force and touched the bond she shared with Revan for the first time in what seemed like ages. Revan, what a nerf you are...! All that power was yours! You were once free from the chains of the Jedi Council, and yet you chose to come crawling back. And look what it did to me - I denied myself, my feelings for you, I tried to push you away time and time again... because that is what I had been taught to do. I see it all now, Revan. The Masters were wrong in this - as well as practically everything else they teach. Come to me, Revan. I need not deny myself any longer. Do you desire me, Revan?

I will not deny you...

Juhani jumped as Revan sat bolt upright at the pantry table, knocking his tray over. "What? What happened? Revan!"

Mission complained as she dealt with the mess. "Food stays on plates, dude. Like, I shouldn't even be having to say this to you!"

Revan blinked slowly. "I - I - no, Bastila, she -"

"Miss Goody-two-shoes? Heh, you even think about her at dinnertime? Man, you're a goner," chirped Mission as she went over the floor a second time. "Are you two gonna get married or something? When you find her, I mean. Wow! Are you, like, gonna kneel when you prop-"

"Mission, could I talk to you for a minute? Outside." Carth steered the Twi'lek teen out of the pantry with a stern expression.

Juhani pushed her tray aside and studied Revan intently. "What is the matter? Your bond - something it is you feel?" Revan's brow creased as he mouthed a 'yes'. "Something bad - she is in pain, she is hurt... what?"

"No. Not pain... not... anymore." Dazed, Revan moved away from the table and stood, resting his forehead against the wall. His mouth suddenly felt very dry. "She - oh, my goodness - I don't know, Juhani. I - she - "

The Cathar's eyes narrowed: this looked very serious. "Malak?" she prompted gently.

"Malak."

"Ah." The Cathar Jedi frowned. Very bad this is. Much afraid I am now to guess.

"Did he..."

"He's... I think he has managed to turn Bastila, Juhani."

Sorrow filled the Cathar. "Oh, dear..." Juhani left the table and tried to comfort her colleague. "I am so sorry to know."

Revan's sense of guilt deepened considerably. What had he done...! In a way, he bore responsibility for Bastila's fall. The thought of all the other Jedi whom he had brought with him to the Dark Side as Darth Revan, Jedi he had been lately forced to kill, Jedi who had refused redemption - it pained him greatly, but was as nothing compared to the crushing agony which he now felt. The Princess - swayed to the Dark by his former Apprentice - his former Apprentice...!

His heart was breaking, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.