Revan and Canderous exchanged glances as their Elder Rakata escort bowed and exited the waiting area adjacent to the Elder Council's meeting room. The severely-injured scout whom they had rescued had been whisked off immediately upon their return: now, the Elder Council wished to deliberate on Revan's request to enter their ancient monument.
Canderous whistled through his teeth and flopped down on a reclining chair. "Mad buggers. Half of 'em want to kill every kriffing thing they see. And the rest? Karked-up bunch o'karking navel-gazers. 'Find the Force' again?" Hawking up a generous gob of phlegm, the Mandalorian turned and expurgated into a nearby wicker basket. Revan rolled his eyes and tried not to think about the implications for community hygiene. Canderous continued his monologue.
"How'd they lose it anyway? Care to explain, Jedi? You're the Force expert here." Leaning into the chair, the Mandalorian removed his shirt to enjoy the cool breeze that drifted though the room. Revan suddenly looked offended. Hadn't the man even heard of deodorant? He tried to keep a straight face.
"I... don't really know, though I probably should - probably did, once." Revan tilted his head and frowned. "What I mean is - something that researcher said back there - about the Rakata suddenly finding themselves, ah, without the Force...? For some reason, that struck a chord. I'm not sure how to put it - but it felt, it sounded familiar. Like I'd heard it somewhere before. Or seen it. Something like that."
HK-47 whirred. "Interjection: Master, I do believe you came across a parallel situation during your glorious reign as Supreme Overlord of the Galaxy."
Surprised, Revan exclaimed, "I did? Where! When? What happened?"
"Explanation: Indeed you did, Master. If my memory cores serve me correctly, this occurred shortly after your inspiring victory at Malachor V. Oh, Master! It brings an electrical surge approximating euphoria to my emotional construct simulators just to speak of Malachor...! Quite sincerely, Master - I had always considered you to be the finest example of meatbaggery: a meatbag cut above meatbags, if you will - but it was Malachor V which demonstrated your considerable droid-like qualities beyond-"
"Get to the point, HK!" snapped Revan, his patience wearing thin. Malachor! Genocide! Mass murder! He wasn't proud of it in the least.
The assassin droid stopped mid-sentence, its processor lights dimming. "Disappointed compliance: As you wish, Master. Involved explanation: Many Jedi followed you to war, Master. Among them was one whose name I never learnt. A female Human meatbag. She was one of what many called your 'inner circle': trusted, responsible, dedicated to your cause..."
Canderous smirked. "...and good in bed..."
HK-47 focussed his photoreceptors on the reclining Mandalorian. "The Master did not engage in frivolities, meatbag. Unlike his best friend, who-"
Revan coughed, drawing the droid's attention to himself. "Come back to the point, HK. So... I had a, a... general?"
"Affirmative reply: Yes, Master! A most excellent specimen of a general. You greatly respected her ability to lead, Master. I gather this is why you placed her in charge of the Mass Shadow Generator."
"The what?"
"The Mass Shadow Generator, Master. A technological terror constructed by the foremost engineer of the age - an Iridonian."
"What did it do?"
HK-47's processor lights brightened. "Elated exclamation: Why, it drew ships from orbit into a vast gravity vortex powerful enough to crush them into the crust of Malachor, whilst fracturing the planet to its very core! You ordered it, Master!"
Revan groaned. Sick! Completely, unmitigatedly, sick! He felt like punching himself. "HK, how does that relate to... to this general I had, and to the Force?"
"Continued explanation: You ordered her to activate the Mass Shadow Generator when the bulk of Mandalorian ships were within range, Master. She obeyed your order. Conjecture: Being a Jedi, and therefore connected to the 'Force', I believe she experienced the death agonies of the thousands who died at Malachor V vicariously."
"Did I experience it?"
"Clarification: You sensed it, Master. That was how you knew your orders had been obeyed. But you were not there in person. You were parsecs away with the remaining Republic ships, waiting to move in and mop up any Mandalorian survivors. When your general returned to report to you, she was utterly changed. Broken, I believe. Recollection: Master, I distinctly recall that you described her as one who was 'already dead'. Alek, your best friend, had wanted me to kill her, but you allowed her to leave unharmed."
His knees suddenly feeling weak, Revan slumped into a nearby chair. By the Force...! He had willingly exposed a loyal follower, a fellow Jedi, to the unimaginable horror of tasting the death of unnumbered thousands - witnessing death was always unpleasant for a Jedi, given their Force-Sensitivity: but to stand exposed to so many...! It was too ghastly to contemplate.
Struggling to find his voice, Revan stammered, "...the. The... general. She. A... Jedi. She... no longer, felt... the, the Force?"
"Affirmative: I believe you thought so, Master. I do not know the reason why. You did not speculate upon it in my presence, Master."
Numb and reeling from the shock of HK-47's revelation, Revan stared unseeingly ahead.
Canderous scratched the thick stubble running from his jaw to his chest. He was about to ask for more information from the droid, but was prevented from so doing by the re-entrance of the Elder Rakata who had requested that their party await the decision of the Elder Council.
It was a very dazed and shell-shocked Revan that found himself standing before the Elder Council a few minutes later. There was a lot of talk, much of it irrelevant. He dimly registered that the Elder Council had decided to approve his entrance into the ancient complex, and that certain complicated rites had to be performed - whether as a matter of tradition or superstition or actual necessity, he neither knew nor cared - also that these rites would require extensive preparation, and that he himself would need to be prepared...
"Finally," intoned the Head of the Elder Council, "you may enter the Temple of the Ancients on one condition: you must enter it alone. This is our tradition, and we broke it only once - for you, and your friend. The grief that doing so brought to the galaxy needs no further mention. We will not break with our tradition again." The Head of the Elder Council spoke authoritatively, and with a tone of decided finality.
Revan nodded his head meekly in acceptance. He didn't much feel like debating the point.
Late that night, Jolee Bindo shuffled down the corridor leading to the 'fresher. Trust the women to have picked the cabin closest to the amenities! Primping and pouting! That was what females across the galaxy thought 'freshers were created for. Typical women, thought Jolee grumpily as he scratched himself. Pissing and pooping - now that was what 'freshers were meant for. None of this namby-pamby puckering up in front of mirrors and suchlike...!
The old Jedi eased himself and began shuffling slowly back to the comfort of his bunk. As he passed the cargo hold, a dull sound coming from within caught his attention. Jolee thought he'd investigate. Making his way quietly across the floor of the cargo hold, he noted the telltale line of light coming from the pantry.
Revan put down his mug of tea and looked up as Jolee ambled in.
"Ain't it way past your bedtime, son?" Jolee's voice was gruff, but his tone was kind. The old man sat down on the bench opposite Revan and gestured at the mug. "You going to pour me one, or have I got to do it myself?" Revan smiled lopsidedly and obliged the old Jedi.
"Much better." Jolee glowed with approval at the steaming mug of tea Revan had placed before him. "Now. Start talkin', son."
Revan leant back against the wall and contemplated the ceiling. "I know - I've got to forgive myself, let the guilt go - and I will... eventually. But you know what? I don't think I will ever allow myself to forget. I made a terrible mistake once, Jolee. I can't afford to do so again. Sure, I'm not about to punish myself for it - but that doesn't mean I shouldn't take lessons from my own history, you know?"
The old Jedi nodded as he sipped his tea. "That's the attitude, son. Keep going."
"HK said that Alek and I were friends, once. Specifically, best friends. Of course, I don't remember any of it. But it's got me thinking. If we were best mates, once - then Alek and I must have been pretty damn close. We'd have known each other really well. And he must have really believed in me - otherwise, he wouldn't have just followed me to war, right? And, obviously, something went wrong somewhere. Maybe when we - when I - started to fall to the Dark Side. Maybe the war had changed us both more than we knew, or wanted to admit. Whatever it is, Alek changed. He became Darth Malak, who hated Darth Revan enough to want to try and kill him when he got a chance. I escaped, Jolee - but that doesn't mean Darth Malak doesn't still hate me... and now he has Bastila." Revan leant forward, urgency in his voice.
"...I'm sure Malak is no fool, Jolee. And I'm sure he's discovered by now that I... I love the Princess. And I'm convinced he's going to try to use her either to break me, or to destroy me... to get to me, somehow - it doesn't matter how, or what buttons he pushes, as long as it affects me. Personally."
"That is very true, son," said Jolee. "So how can I help?"
Revan fingered the handle of his mug thoughtfully. "...I'd like to know more... about... about Alek. Not 'Malak': Alek. What he was as a person. What he was like. How he behaved, the things he did, what he was known for. His likes and dislikes. What we were like... as friends. Anything that gives me some idea of the kind of person he was. You know, I keep thinking - going Dark isn't a lobotomy or personality transplant, right? As in, you don't suddenly wake up and find yourself brand spanking new, right? Sure, some things change - radically - but... there's got to be some foundation... some shadow, some base - that's related to the person you once were?"
Jolee's forehead creased. "You want to learn about Alek so that you can dissect his mind, don't you? Hmph! I know what you're planning. Good call."
"Don't worry if you can't fill me in as much as I'd like, Jolee. I mean, twenty years in the Shadowlands-"
The old Jedi snorted with laughter. "Living in the Shadowlands didn't put me out of the loop, son! I had visitors, occasionally. Wookiees mayn't look like they do much talking, but trust me - you want a right old chin-wag, start talkin' to the Wookiee nearest you. I'm serious! Look - Wookiees are everywhere in this damn galaxy, right? They see things. They hear things. Just because they talk funny don't mean they don't hear nothin'. Even old Freyyr was known to pass along stuff he'd heard from his odd trip off-planet." Jolee pushed his mug over to Revan for a refill.
Having refilled both mugs, Revan sat down again. "Fantastic! Fire away, Jolee."
Jolee inhaled the warm vapour curling up from his mug and sighed in satisfaction.
"Alek was your best friend, Revan. You were inseparable. However, you were definitely the brain. Alek may not have been quite in the same league as you, Revan - but he wasn't stupid. You were the sort of student who soaked up knowledge like a sponge. When you became one of the youngest Jedi to attain the level of Knight, word spread like wildfire. Alek must have aspired to do likewise - but it was not his gift. He could, however, best you in any test of physical endurance or stamina. He was also a daredevil. Reckless, almost."
"I think he still is," observed Revan.
"From all that I've heard, I reckon that Alek always took things too personally for his own good. Hurts, insults, affronts, disappointment, joy, praise, congratulations - he took these things very seriously. You were always much better at moving on than he ever was. That, I think, ultimately proved to be the thin end of the wedge - especially when you two got involved in the Mandalorian Wars." Moistening his throat with a generous gulp of tea, Jolee wiped his mouth on the back of a hand and continued speaking.
"Do you have any idea how popular you were, Revan? Not just with Jedi. With people. You had... a certain... magnetism. People actually travelled across the galaxy to join you, or so I was told. They say that as a leader, you were inspiration itself: you were passionate about your mission, you were convincing - people just followed you. Hundreds. Thousands! Alek was the first of the Jedi to break with the taboo set by the Council, and join your cause. I hear that he made the rounds on your behalf, too - rallies, speeches... people listened and agreed, but they only committed themselves when you put in a personal appearance. This happened time and time again. And, the girls...! Hoo boy! Groupies...! Heh, I heard you even had 'offers' from silly beings - mostly of the female persuasion. Don't know if you took up the offers, though... heh, I can't help thinkin' that Alek eventually got jealous..."
"HK said I never... indulged. But was Alek jealous because I was popular?"
The old Jedi shrugged. "Possibly. There was talk, startin' before the... ah, final events at Malachor V, that things weren't runnin' as smooth between you and Alek as they once had. Arguments, shouting matches. Things like that. All rumours, of course. Nobody knew if they were factual, or if it was just some Mandalorian spin-doctoring bunk. But definitely after Malachor V - definitely."
Revan sipped his drink. "What happened?"
Jolee snorted. "Had a mother of a fight, I should think! Mind, this was... sometime after Malachor V. Both of you'd disappeared into... Force knows where. And then you came back, Sithy as all heck - and Alek - or Malak, as he called himself now - was missing a jaw."
"I cut off his jaw?"
"Don't know. Ask HK! The droid probably knows. But it was clear to everyone then that Jedi Revan and Alek hadn't just gone 'Darth': the friendship they once had was kaput, to say the least. I think you tolerated him, and he seethed at having to be your subordinate. Figures, huh?" Jolee finished his drink and stood to leave.
"Gotta use the darn 'fresher again," he complained, shutting the pantry door.
Revan winced, shading his eyes from the brightness of the mid-morning sun. The grey stone walls of the ancient monument were flecked in places with white, which reflected brilliantly - and painfully - into the eyes of anyone following the architecture of the building up from its broad, stepped base to the fins that crowned the top of the structure. A short distance from him, a handful of Elder Rakata priests were chanting in a monotone. Wanting to distance himself from the endless repetition of words he didn't understand, Revan broke away from the knot of priests and strolled about the lawn fronting the ancient monument. He was scuffing at a tuft of grass with a foot when he thought he heard someone running towards him.
"Juhani? Jolee...! What's the matter? I told you, I have to do this alone -"
"No, you must not!" panted Jolee, shaking his head vigourously. "I - I..." the old man paused to catch his breath.
The Cathar filled in for her colleague, urgency behind every word. "We have had... a vision, Jolee and I. It is the same vision. It is the Force. You must not go alone, Revan!"
Behind him, one of the priests noticed the presence of Jolee and Juhani and motioned for the ritual to stop.
"Why have you brought others, Revan? The Council has made its position clear. You can only enter alone," said the priest.
"There is great danger in the Temple - he cannot go in alone...!" exclaimed Jolee. "Tell them - Juhani. The vision -"
"Jolee and I have had a vision, from the Force," explained Juhani. "We have seen... danger. Great is the danger there is waiting in the Temple. Not to enter alone, Revan is."
The priest shook his head firmly. "No. He goes in alone, or not at all. We will not compromise." The other priests got to their feet, murmuring amongst themselves.
Revan looked from the gaggle of priests to the earnest, worried faces of Jolee and Juhani, and back again. The Elder Rakata had 'lost' the Force - it would be impossible to explain to them just what it meant when two Jedi shared a Force vision, or to impress them with the sense of urgency that warning visions of the sort which Jolee and Juhani had obviously just experienced, gave.
I have to get to the Star Forge, and the only way off-planet now is for that disruptor field to be taken offline, thought Revan. If these guys here pack up and go, the deal's off entirely - and there's no way we're going to be able to get off-planet, much less find the Star Forge... and Malak!
Turning to the priests, Revan raised a hand in a conciliatory gesture. "There is great danger in the Temple," he stated, waving his hand as if making a point. "You do not want the danger to find you."
A glazed look came over the eyes of all the priests. "We do not want the danger in the Temple to find us," they repeated.
"You believe it in the best interests of your clan to let my friends and I into the Temple," said Revan, waving his hand again.
"We believe it is in the best interests of our clan for you and your friends to enter the Temple together," chorused the priests.
Waving his hand a third time, Revan told the priests, "You want to start performing the ritual really quickly now."
The effect was instantaneous: barely had Revan let his hand fall than the Elder Rakata priests had reformed their circle and were chanting for all their lives were worth.
Bastila kicked a piece of loose masonry around the perimeter of the summit plaza irritably. Curse those Dark Jedi! They had locked her up here. On purpose! She was sure of it - what disrespect! Surely they knew that she was the official Apprentice, that she alone amongst them had right of audience with the Dark Lord - oh, just wait...! Soon, she would rejoin her Master, and then she would tell on them, the whole stinking lot of them...! Locking the door back into the lower levels of the complex from the inside - how dare they...! Bastila seethed with rage and affronted pride. The sun had reached its zenith in the sky, and it was starting to get unreasonably warm.
Retiring to the shade provided by the shadow of the shuttle, Bastila sat on the ground and pondered her next move. Go to find her Master? But he had ordered her to stay put, and to do what she "had to do". What did he mean by that? And how exactly was she supposed to do what she "had to do" if these impertinent upstarts had locked her out of the complex altogether - oh, so that was their game, was it not? Sabotage! They were jealous of her, jealous of her position and her superior rank!
Obviously there was knavery afoot: one, or more of the higher-ranking Dark Jedi must have decided that her late promotion from pitiful Jedi Padawan to Sith Apprentice was undeserved, and coveted it for themselves... evidently, they planned to weaken her by means of starvation at the top of the complex, before making an attempt on her life - or they intended for her to return to her Master in disgrace, her duty unfulfilled.
Bastila fumed. What a fine pickle she was in!
As she sat in the shade of her craft, trying to think of a suitable excuse to present to her Master, the heavy door blocking her descent back into the complex began to open. The ancient stone hinges grated audibly. Upon hearing them, Bastila got to her feet and stared ahead, trying to make out who - or what, if anything - was coming through the portal.
The sharp eyes of the Cathar Jedi spotted Bastila first. Caught up in the excitement of having discovered her lost friend still alive and seemingly unharmed, Juhani forgot Revan's misgivings entirely and sprinted ahead to meet the dark-robed figure which was moving towards them at a leisurely pace.
"Bastila!" cried Juhani joyfully. "So glad we are to find you..." Her voice trailed off uncertainly as two blades of red light unsheathed themselves from a cylindrical object held by the approaching figure. Juhani gasped and jumped backwards into Jolee and Revan. The latter stared, rooted to the spot as the trim figure of Bastila, now clad in unfamiliar dark garments, approached.
"Revan," he heard her say. "I knew you'd come for me."
Revan's mind rebelled against what his ears were telling it. No! Surely that could not be Bastila? But it was! The voice - so familiar, yet so different. There was a sultriness in her voice which, under different circumstances, he would have been more than happy to hear. But not now! And she looked - the same, but different. The set of her jaw - still the stubborn Princess, but her smile...? Cold, calculating, catty. Something twisted painfully inside of Revan as he looked into the eyes of the woman he adored, and saw that their smoky grey was stained with streaks of yellow. He barely recognised his own voice when he spoke.
"Princess...? You -"
Bastila smiled, amused. Silly Revan! Such a nerf! Deactivating her lightsaber, she tilted her head coyly and beckoned invitingly. "My dear Revan. How I've missed you...! Come with me, darling. I have seen what you saw, and tasted what you did - and I understand now."
The painful, twisting sensation inside of him sharpened. Revan shut his eyes and breathed deeply, seeking to assuage the pain. His heart was literally pounding in his ears. The inkling he had felt across their bond - he was right! Bastila had indeed fallen! The pain that stabbed through his heart was agony itself. Knowing - seeing, hearing! - Bastila in the flesh before him, changed from the being of integrity she once had been, what love they may have once shared warped into a macabre satire of itself; Bastila - decorous, dignified Bastila! - now a vampish temptress...
Revan staggered beneath the emotional weight.
Jolee's arms were about his shoulders now, supporting him. "Steady, son," whispered the old Jedi, his eyes filled with pain. He understood Revan's agony all too well, having walked a similar - though not identical - path before. Once, long ago, Jolee Bindo had loved, and lost. Once, he had come face to face with the love of his life, and seen how the Dark Side could take even the brightest, purest thing - and corrupt it into a mockery of the genuine. Once, he had been forced to decide between offering his love another chance at redemption... and cutting off the canker where it grew. The same awful decision now confronted the young Jedi whom Jolee had come to care for, almost as a son. Tears sprang unbidden to the old man's eyes as he heard Revan's pained appeal.
"No...! Oh, my goodness - no...! By the Force, what have they done - what has Malak done to you? You don't have to do this, Princess... this isn't... this isn't you, I know it isn't you...! Come away with me, Princess. Leave all this behind - don't make the mistakes I did-"
"Nobody 'does' anything to me, Revan!" hissed Bastila, her porcelain features contorting into a snarl. "Nobody 'does' anything to me! I am not the weak, ineffectual Padawan I once was! The Order has nothing to offer me - nothing! The Order took from me, Revan. It took my gift, my Battle Meditation, and worked them to serve its own purposes. What did I ever get out of it? Nothing. It took me from the only family I had - my father! What did it give me in return? Nothing! It took my sympathy for you, my act of mercy in preserving your life, and it made me your jailer. Your warden! A pawn, complicit in the machinations of the Masters!"
Revan shook his head in disbelief. What was she saying! Malak must have brainwashed her - what kind of inhumane torture had she been exposed to? Surely it must have been inhumane, to break a spirit like Bastila's -
Bastila continued speaking, unconscious that her tone had softened, with a tinge of her former gentleness creeping back into it.
"...the Order nearly took us away from each other, Revan. I began to love you, and that frightened me - because I had been taught that emotions were dangerous! Now, I need not deny them any longer... look at me, Revan. Do you still love me? Come with me. We can be so much more together, you and I. So much more than... Malak. Am I not the object of your desire? Come away with me, Revan. Malak's affinity with the Force and his potential are nothing compared to yours - come with me, fulfil your destiny, my dear!"
Sensing the turmoil and conflict that presently raged within the former Dark Lord, Bastila pressed her advantage. "Reclaim your rightful position as Dark Lord of the Sith, Revan...! I will gladly stand by your side - as your lover... and apprentice."
Lover? Apprentice? Suddenly coming to her senses, Juhani Force-pushed Bastila away from Revan. Caught unawares, Bastila fell to the ground but recovered herself in an instant. Snarling, she leapt at Juhani with a cry. Before Revan could intervene, both Juhani and Jolee were embroiled in a deadly battle with Bastila, who was clearly more than their match. Shouting at the combatants to desist, Revan activated both his lightsabers and leapt into the fray, working to put as much distance between Bastila on the one hand, and his colleagues on the other.
"Fools!" spat Bastila angrily as she picked herself up from the ground a second time. "Revan! Stop being silly. This is no time for games - and shut up, Jolee: you are beneath my contempt - your cowardice is legendary! You tasted the power of the Dark Side when Nayama fell, yet you chose to turn your back on it...! Spare me your mewling, Juhani. If anything, you're far more pathetic than Jolee. You actually walked a dark path, but you lacked the fortitude to stay on it!"
Bastila addressed Revan once more. "Come, Revan. You told me you love me. Prove it."
The tempting thoughts returned in full force. The same ones that had lurked in his mind in the tomb on Korriban: the very ones that had whispered, hinted, and beckoned with promises of power now spoke to him in the Princess' voice. Weigh the costs, Revan! You love her. Will you let her walk this path alone? You know what lies ahead of her in the darkness, Revan. Can you let her face it on her own? Surely she means more to you than that, Revan. What if she fails to be redeemed? What, then? There will be no future for the both of you, together. Not now, not for eternity...
Eternity! Revan groaned: he felt as if someone had stuck a vibroblade into his heart and was presently twisting it mercilessly.
Jolee and Juhani watched their colleague as he grappled with the tide of emotion: hurt, fear, pain, worry... guilt... heartbreak. The great moment of decision had come: Revan's choice today would make or mar the future. The four of them stood on the plaza, the heat of the afternoon sun beating mercilessly down upon them as the unseen controversy raged.
It was a seeming eternity before Revan found his voice to speak.
"Bastila, you're breaking my heart...! I do love you - but you are now walking a path I cannot follow. Turn from it, Bastila - I beg of you!"
A sharp cry escaped Bastila's lips. Revan would not follow her? But she had been so sure, so very sure, that he would!
In her shock and disappointment, Bastila's thoughts became increasingly confused and incoherent. She wasn't sure what she was anymore: Bastila the Jedi, or Bastila the Sith Apprentice...? Could she just let it all go? Just like that? Maybe Revan was right - he understands... no. How could he? This is all a ploy. The Order doesn't care for me, and neither does Revan! If he truly did, he would have thrown his lot in with me... Malak - he is supposed to stop Malak - what does that mean? ...do I have to kill Revan? I don't want to kill him! ...but I'm a Sith Apprentice now... and Revan's a Jedi -
It was all very discombobulating. Bastila's intense confusion and inner conflict worked itself up into a classic display of petulance: she stomped a foot angrily and shouted.
"'Can't' or 'won't'? I thought you loved me! I thought we had something! Stop being so bloody noble, Revan! Oh, I've had enough of this...!" Before Revan could reply, Bastila fled to the waiting shuttle and boarded it.
Jolee and Juhani blinked and exchanged surprised looks as the shuttle's engines roared to life and the craft lifted off the plaza floor. A tantrum? A Sith Apprentice, throwing a tantrum? Stomping a foot? What was the galaxy coming to?
As the shuttle gained altitude, Revan staggered over to the now-exposed terminal and deactivated the generator, staring numbly as the craft carrying his beloved disappeared into the sky.
Jolee stroked his beard thoughtfully. The girl's behaviour was most telling. Perhaps, thought the old Jedi, she is not yet lost.
Mission, Carth, and Zaalbar met the returning party outside the Ebon Hawk with news that the salvaged fusion generator had been successfully installed. Canderous and HK-47 waved at the three Jedi from the sand-free safety of the Ebon Hawk's ramp.
Carth frowned. "Where's Bastila? I thought you said you sensed her nearby-" Jolee shook his head at the Republic officer, a finger on his lips. Carth's eyes widened and a worried look came across his face. "That bad, huh?" he whispered to Jolee, before ascending the ramp to have a quiet word with the Mandalorian.
"Greetings: Welcome back, Master! I trust you have had a most wonderful excursion, Master - slaughtering the meatbags that doubtless infested the ruins you visi-"
Juhani pointed her lightsaber warningly at HK-47. "One more word, and to deactivate you permanently I shall," she threatened. Mission kicked some sand in the droid's direction.
"Means shut up, or get shut down," the Twi'lek teen chirped. "Everyone's had a hard day, okay? And the bugs here? Are, like, totally murder, man. Eww! I mean, I found like, a whole bunch of them in, like, the 'fresher? 'Cos some moron, like, totally forgot to flush, and I know it's not Carth or Canderous, like, 'cos I've been checking on them today, and Zaalbar's been going outside, which means, like, it's gotta be one of you three... and Juhani's like, reallly clean - crazy clean - and I don't think Revan would -"
Jolee's eyebrows retreated into his inexistent hairline. "Oooh, dear - oh, my head...! Oh, I feel dizzy - it must be the vertigo - come here, kid, there's a good kid... oh, my old bones...!" The old Jedi feigned grogginess and staggered about strategically, ensuring that he tripped over an invisible rock when he neared Mission. The Twi'lek teen yelped as she rushed to stop the old man from falling over.
"Man...! What is it with you old people and falling over?" Mission continued to fuss and tut at Jolee as she helped him into the waiting ship.
Juhani clicked her teeth and made a wry face. She turned to address Revan - to ask if he wished to talk - and found that he had already disappeared. HK-47 pointed at the ship's interior and whirred. The Cathar Jedi nodded grimly.
"Inside? Where?" she asked the droid.
HK-47 fixed its photoreceptors on Juhani. Its processor lights blinked.
"The pantry again?" demanded the Cathar.
The droid's lights blinked again.
"The men's cabin?"
HK-47's lights blinked impassively.
What the - Juhani's eyes narrowed. The blasted droid! It was teasing her! She glared at HK-47 as she boarded the ship.
An electrical discharge approximating self-satisfaction built up in the droid's emotional construct simulator.
"Self-evaluation: HK-47 one, crazy Jedi meatbag zero."
Dinner was a very subdued affair. Jolee and Juhani had discreetly informed their comrades of their meeting with Bastila atop the ancient monument. The news had upset everyone - particularly Mission, who burst into tears and babbled incoherently about marriage, happily-ever-afters, school, family, siblings, flowers...
Juhani had been obliged to take the red-eyed teen back to the women's cabin where she could bawl her eyes out without upsetting Revan further. Jolee retired early, citing a bad back. Zaalbar excused himself early as well, stating that he thought it prudent to leave Lehon immediately: the planet had caused nothing but upset for all on board, and it would be for the best to leave the place as soon as possible. Nobody disagreed with him.
Carth and Canderous remained in the pantry with Revan after everyone else had left. The Mandalorian fidgeted uncomfortably. What was he supposed to do? He wasn't the talky-feely kind. Action! That was his thing. Only, something told him that the sort of 'action' he would find himself were he in a similar situation as the man currently seated across from him, would not go down well with anyone at all. Kriff it, thought Canderous. Kriffing woman problems! He nudged Carth with an elbow.
"Say something," hissed the Mandalorian under his breath.
The Republic officer darted a sharp look at Canderous out of the corner of his eye. "Wait!" he hissed back.
Canderous nudged Carth again. "We can't sit here all evening staring at him!"
"Is there... anything we... can do for you?" probed Carth uncertainly. "We're really sorry, Revan."
Revan sighed softly and pushed the uneaten food around his tray with a fork. "Haven't a clue, guys. I suspect this is something I... gotta figure out on my own."
A brief silence followed. Canderous thought he would go deaf from the quietude, and felt impelled to say something. Anything!
"Star Forge next, innit?"
"Yeah."
"So, ah... you reckon she'll be there?
Carth raised his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. The tactlessness! He stepped, none too gently, on the Mandalorian's foot. Canderous pretended not to notice.
"Definitely."
"What do you think she'll do?"
Revan looked up from pushing his leftovers around. "I really don't know, Canderous," he confessed. "She might try to kill me."
The Mandalorian made a low whistle. "Girl's got spirit," he commented. "A pity you didn't bed -"
"Do you really think so?" the Republic officer cut in hastily. "I mean, it's not impossible - but the two of you... you know? Really had something going. It reminded me of... happier days."
"The Dark Side makes monsters of people, Carth," said Revan softly. "It made a monster out of me, once. I don't know how far Bastila has gone down that road. Maybe she doesn't even remember what it is to love."
Carth's brow furrowed. "But what if she does, Revan? As in, she does still love you. And she's not forgotten it - just... well, buried it, I suppose - and is pretending that it, ah, doesn't exist?" The Republic officer started to talk animatedly. "I mean, that would just be typical of the Princess, wouldn't it? You know what I mean...! She's always been like that. Taris, for example - 'Oh, I'm so relieved someone from the Republic finally found me, but - but - actually, I rescued myself! It wasn't my fault I got captured, the stupid escape pod crashed! I'm a highly-trained Jedi, but I don't know where my frackin' lightsaber is...!'"
Revan couldn't help but laugh. "That's actually very true, Carth," he admitted. "She tries so hard to be serious and unfunny... spotlessly professional - I think it'd kill her to know just how cute and hilarious she actually is. You're right... she does keep a lot of stuff buried inside her."
"See? Maybe she does know," continued Carth. "She could be trying to pretend that she doesn't. Grife...! You know what I think, bro? I think she's frackin' in denial, that's what I think. That, plus she's conflicted. What kind of crazy Master did she have?"
"There were rumours that Master Vrook Lamar was involved in her training at some point..."
Carth blinked. "Vrook? Would that be... ah, a bald chap with a magnificent attitude problem?"
"That'd be him."
A mild Telosian expletive issued from the Republic officer's mouth. "No wonder the Princess is all messed up - the man's barking!"
"How do you know? You weren't allowed in the Enclave on Dantooine-"
"Yeah, but Jedi are allowed out of it - and Padawans love to gossip," smirked Carth. "The point is: as a Jedi, the Princess was one confused kitten. Who's to say that she isn't just as confused - if not worse! - now that she's being led down an unfamiliar path by loopy Mr Metal Jaw?"
Revan turned Carth's words over in his head, comparing them with what he had himself witnessed earlier in the day. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that Carth wasn't engaging in blind speculation. When confronting Bastila earlier, he really hadn't had the time - or the heart - to engage in a dissection of her behaviour. But now that Carth had brought up the subject, Revan found himself wondering at several strange things Bastila had said or done during their meeting.
She had been corrupted - to some extent - by the influence of the Dark Side. But she hadn't been like all those Dark Jedi he'd met during his travels across the galaxy. On the contrary, Bastila had wanted to talk - not fight! Juhani was the one who struck first, so to speak. And then everything had gone haywire from there. And then, when he turned her down, she hadn't flown off the handle or attempted to kill him outright - as he expected any half-baked Sith to do. No... Bastila had looked stunned, hurt, dismayed, even - and then, instead of Force-choking him or slicing him into two, she'd stamped her foot and yelled. Yelled!
And then, Bastila had run back to her shuttle in a state of pique and made her getaway - entirely forgetting to deactivate the disruptor.
A tantrum! That was more the province of a spoilt, disappointed princess than a proper Sith Apprentice, thought Revan. He tried to imagine Darth Malak 'throwing a wobbly' as Darth Revan's apprentice, and found it impossible.
"Sith Apprentice Fail," muttered Revan half-aloud. Carth and Canderous leant over the table.
"Say again?" grunted Canderous, as Revan keeled forwards. Carth yanked away the food tray to prevent Revan from upsetting it.
"Sith Apprentice Fail," said Revan again, sitting up. "Carth, you're a star." He stood and dusted some crumbs off his clothes and made for the door. "Is Jolee still awake?"
Carth frowned in confusion. "Jolee? He should be - hey! Where are you going?"
"Got an idea, going to run it by the old man. Thanks, Carth!" called Revan from the cargo hold.
"Women," said Canderous sagely, "are trouble."