"Master?"
Bastila cautiously approached the red-cloaked figure standing by the immense holomap.. She wasn't sure how Malak would take her sudden appearance. Would he expect a full report? A head-count of all the Masters and Acolytes present? Should she tell him about... about Revan? Hopefully, that would distract him from asking too many close questions for which she, as yet, had no answers. Malak was prowling around the holomap, seemingly absorbed with thoughts of his own.
The Dark Lord barely acknowledged the entrance of his Apprentice. The girl had returned sooner than he had expected. Either the clumsy, overly-trusting Elder Rakata had once again taken Revan into their confidence, or his old comrade had reached a sort of... reciprocal agreement with the more progressive half of Lehon society. He did not think it was the latter. Revan had changed completely from what he had been as the Dark Lord of the Sith: no sooner could Darth Malak imagine the reformed Revan of recent memory actively abetting genocide than he could the Revanchist "disporting" himself whilst there remained yet one more battle to fight.
Darth Malak turned to face Bastila, his expression unreadable.
"My Apprentice."
The girl knelt on one knee before him, her head bowed in submission.
"I have returned, my Master."
"Indeed you have, my Apprentice," stated the Dark Lord. "And what news do you bring me?"
"The complex is... secure, my Master." Bastila held her breath, waiting for Malak's response.
The smallest glint of amusement flickered in the Dark Lord's eyes. "As well it should be. I trust you were not unduly troubled?"
"No, my Master - there was no trouble at all." The answer left her mouth faster than she had intended, and Bastila smacked herself mentally for having failed to maintain an even keel.
Darth Malak recommenced strolling around the holomap. "How many did you kill?"
Kill? Bastila looked up in alarm. Had she been expected to kill something... someone? Who? Why - whatever for?
"Surely you must have killed at least one, Apprentice? A Master... or an Acolyte, perhaps - according to your skill?"
The Dark Lord halted in his walk around the holomap, its glittering display of the space and ships surrounding the Star Forge obscuring his sneer completely. Yes, he was toying with the girl's mind. Already he had succeeded in causing her to stumble and fall from the path of the Jedi: already he had caused her to question and forsake her high ideals; already he had robbed her of her faith in the Light side of the Force - but those were in themselves trifles as compared to what he now desired to achieve - the comprehensive annihilation of her capacity for love.
That, mused the Dark Lord, would be sublime revenge upon Revan.
How he hated the man! Revan, who always had everything Alek desired but didn't have! Revan, the universally-adored! Revan, who had led him down this dark and dreary path to start with - and who had somehow found his way back to the Light! Everything had always come so easily for Revan. Was that even fair? Darth Malak seethed with an overpowering, maddened jealousy.
He would corrupt the very apple of Revan's eye into something that Revan could no longer love. He would force Revan to destroy her: and if that failed to demolish the rebuilt Revan, Darth Malak would still have gained the victory over his bitterest foe.
This final, fatal purpose aside, Darth Malak had no further use for Bastila. Resuming his walk, the Dark Lord completed his circumnavigation of the holomap and stood in front of his kneeling Apprentice. "Well?" he demanded.
Bastila dithered. She did not know what to say! "...no. Did you wish someone killed, Master?"
"They locked you out, did they not?"
He knew! "Ye-es, my Master."
Darth Malak's words were crisp and cutting. "A failure! Like a miserable pittin, you came crawling back instead of taking appropriate action! You disappoint me. I think I begin to... understand. Why the Order did not come seeking you, when you were lost. On Taris... on the Leviathan... no wonder even the Force deserted you, for a while. You lack fortitude."
Fortitude! She lacked fortitude? After all that she had been through - the ambush of the Endar Spire, falling into the hands of those low-life gangsters, offered as a prize, made into a cat's paw for the Council, faring to and fro across the galaxy hunting for scraps of information - being hauled before the Selkath courts like a common criminal - the hostility of the Wookiees on Kashyyyk, sacrificing herself on the Leviathan so that her friends could make their escape; knowing that her own capture and torture would be inevitable... and Malak accused her of lacking fortitude!
The Dark Lord's words kindled a burning rage within his Apprentice.
Some part of Bastila's mind shouted at her that this was a trap - that Malak intended to provoke her, that he desired her to give in to the anger, resentment and hatred she harboured for him; and that she should step back and evaluate things dispassionately, objectively...
Whether by the dark and baleful influence of the Star Forge or the Dark Lord himself, or by the springing forth of the seeds of corruption lately sown in her, the roiling and tempestuous passions within Bastila manifested themselves in hasty words.
"Revan has visited the complex. He seeks to destroy the Star Forge, and he will be here shortly."
The Dark Lord smiled to himself beneath his heavy prosthetic jaw. Things were proceeding according to plan. He affected surprise. "Already?"
"Yes, Master. The Republic is certain to send fleets. There will be Jedi with them."
Darth Malak pretended to study the holomap with greater avidity than before. "Revan is... formidable, Bastila. We must not underestimate him." Pausing for effect, Darth Malak turned again to face his Apprentice. "Perhaps you may yet redeem my faith in you..." An encounter between Bastila and his former friend would almost certainly prove fatal for the girl - but that was none of his concern. Whether she fell by Revan's hand or, through some miracle, survived, his purpose would have been amply fulfilled.
"What is your bidding, my Master?"
Bastila regretted her hasty words and anger as soon as she heard her Master's reply.
"Remain here, Apprentice, and assist us with your Battle Meditation. You will stop Revan should he attempt to pass this way. Destroy him, and prove your worth."
As her Master exited the chamber, Bastila bowed her head to the floor, disconsolate.
"How much do you remember about me, HK?"
The droid's processors whirred. "Statement: About you, Master? I believe I have already stated much about your capacity for creative atrocities. Which joyful incident do you wish me to recount, Master?"
Revan shrugged and sat on the workbench stool. "Apart from my... ah, 'creative atrocities', you may commence anywhere else you like."
HK-47 clunked towards Revan and focussed its photoreceptors squarely on his person. "Observation: You are different in many fundamental ways, Master. You have a concern for life that is unsettling. This cannot solely be caused by memory loss. I do not know how to explain it. Regardless, you do seem to be improved overall, from the meatbag I once knew. Retraction: Did I say that out loud? While it is true you are a meatbag, I should refrain from addressing you as such..."
"Before we go any further, HK - please enlighten me - what's with the... the constant 'meatbag' references?"
"Explanation: It's just that... you have all these squishy parts, Master. And all that water! How the constant sloshing doesn't drive you mad, I have no idea..."
I don't know whether to laugh or just give up, thought Revan as he rubbed his forehead ruefully. Patience! HK's a droid, follows programming - you are responsible for all of that...
"I survive, somehow," said Revan drily. "But I would very much like to know why you insist on calling everyone a 'meatbag'!"
HK-47 whirred contentedly. "Recollection: Your pupil once asked me what I thought of him and I informed him of his meatbag status. He was unimpressed, but you thought the reference was humorous. You programmed me to continue using that reference. It drove your pupil to extreme lengths of frustration."
Revan couldn't help but laugh. "So Malak was the original meatbag? I like that idea...!"
"Of course you do, Master. You liked it then as well." HK-47's processor lights dimmed a little. "Commentary: Perhaps it would have been for the better had you removed the rest of your pupil's head, along with his jaw, Master."
"Why do you say that, HK?" asked Revan.
"Statement: Your former pupil is efficient and brutal, even for an organic. I rather liked him when you first introduced me to him. Oh, Master! Had I known what he would do to you, I would have gladly removed his entrails then!"
"I'm afraid I do not understand, HK. Why did Malak and I fall out... why did I... remove his jaw?"
"Answer: Your former pupil nursed numerous grudges against you, Master. I believe it had something to do with his dissatisfaction over where he stood in your meatbag hierarchy. Clarification: You were clearly superior to him, Master. Wise meatbags recognise and submit to superiority when they see it. Speculation: Perhaps I ought to revise my previous estimate of your former pupil's intellect? Continued clarification: Regardless of the standard meatbag operating procedures, your former pupil chafed at authority, and openly challenged your leadership - "
"When did this happen?"
"Statement: Shortly after you programmed me to continue using the 'meatbag' reference, Master. As I recall, your former pupil took it as a most personal insult. Perhaps, Master, you ought to have programmed me to call him a liquidous fleshbag instead..."
So Malak is proud, and has a quick temper, Revan mused. And he probably dislikes the term 'meatbag' immensely, too... "What else did Malak and I disagree over?"
HK-47 appeared to be running through its memory banks. "Many things, Master. His numerous dalliances, for example. Also, matters of strategy, tactics. He would have preferred for you to bomb worlds into submission: you preferred a more... targeted approach. Observation: Quite frankly, Master, the two of you did not agree on a vast number of subjects. It puzzles me how you ever came to acquire such a pupil! I can attribute it only to an error of judgement, of the variety so often committed by meatbags..."
"Hmm."
Revan sat at the workbench, lost in thought. They would arrive at the Star Forge in only a matter of hours, and soon he would have to face Malak once and for all. He strongly felt that he owed it to Alek - the Jedi Malak once had been, the friend he had led astray - to make an attempt at reasoning with him or urging him to return to the Light. He knew, too, that it was unlikely that Malak would be so easily dissuaded. In fact, it was almost a giventhat any attempt on his part to undo the ills of the past would be viewed as an act of grave provocation by the Dark Lord of the Sith - a personal insult! - and that a final confrontation would take place; from which only one of them would walk away.
Their previous clash aboard the Leviathan was still fresh in Revan's mind. He knew that Malak was a strong opponent, and that the latter's immersion in the Dark side of the Force made him only the more lethal: Malak had means at his disposal which Revan did not. The contest between them would, in a sense, be unevenly matched. Still, Malak's ability to inflict damage ultimately depended on his focus - break that focus, introduce distraction, interfere with his connection to the Force - and his odds of surviving Malak would be significantly improved.
HK-47 stood before its Master, patiently awaiting his next command.
"HK," said Revan firmly. "I want you to tell me everything you know about Malak."
A party of waiting Jedi rushed to the Ebon Hawk as soon as it landed in the Star Forge's hangar bay, crowding around the ramp as it lowered.
"Juhani!" cried one of the Jedi - a Human female - as she waved at the occupants of the Ebon Hawk. "The Council sent us to assist you. Where is... you-know-who?"
"Do you mean me, or Malak?" said Revan, appearing with Jolee at the top of the ramp. "Hello, everyone. I'm... Revan. But if it's Malak you want, I believe he's hidden himself somewhere deep inside this Forge. Be very careful - this place is likely to be swarming with Dark Je-"
The blast doors to the east and west of the hangar unsealed themselves with an almighty clang. As one, all the assembled Jedi turned to face the source of the disturbance. Black-clad figures, moving purposefully towards them... red lightsabers!
"Sith!" shouted one of the Jedi, drawing his weapon and running to meet the oncoming enemy. The remaining Jedi did likewise, activating their lightsabers and spreading out to face the Dark Jedi who were pouring into the hangar.
Juhani and Jolee leapt off the ramp and charged into the fray, lightsabers flashing.
"Zaalbar! HK!" bellowed Revan, as he unclipped his weapons from his belt. "Close the breach! Close the breach! Carth! You and Canderous - I'm putting you two in charge of security! Hold the hangar until I return!"
Cutting down the Dark Jedi who threw themselves into his path, Revan battled his way to where Juhani and a male Twi'lek Jedi were fending off three challengers. When the last of the three had been dispatched, the Twi'lek Jedi urged Revan and Juhani to leave, grabbing Jolee by the sleeve and thrusting him in their direction. "Go! Find Malak! We will stay here and defend the Ebon Hawk - go now!" Then he spun on his heel and dashed into another mélee, his weapon a dazzling blur of blue light.
Revan, Juhani and Jolee exchanged glances, a wordless understanding passing between them. With one accord, they ran through the open blast door, onto the deck of the Star Forge.
Jolee coughed and spat to the side. "Grenadiers...!" he exclaimed. "Sithspawn - how many damn troopers an' Dark Jedi are there on this thing?" The old Jedi hacked up another gob of spit and wiped his mouth on a sleeve.
"Plenty," said Juhani, licking a nasty-looking burn on her off hand, which had narrowly escaped being blown off by a stray blaster shot. She looked alertly around, her ears twitching to catch the faintest sound. "Nobody is coming this way - for now. I suggest you to make this quick, Revan. Much time is what we do not have."
"Got it," mumbled Revan, frowning as he navigated the interface on the computer terminal. "...ventilation systems... capacitor charges... heating... ah. Security... gun turrets... elevator." Quickly taking the gun turrets guarding the approach to the command centre elevator offline, Revan turned and called over his shoulder to his waiting companions.
"Turrets are offline! Give me just one more minute-" Withdrawing a handful of spikes from a pouch on his belt, Revan fed them into a port on the terminal and punched a sequence into the console. The strange, glowing contraption to the right of the terminal buzzed irritably for a few seconds before emitting a high-pitched whine together with a blinding flash of light.
"What in the Corellian hells-" shouted Jolee from the entrance to the terminal room. A loud blast drowned out the rest of his sentence.
"Sith!" screamed Juhani, deflecting blaster shots with her lightsaber back at a line of incoming Sith troopers. Jolee swore and threw a plasma grenade into the distance: it exploded in a searing burst of fiery orange. Their advance halted, the Sith fell back momentarily, seeking to regroup.
The Cathar Jedi whipped around to see what Revan was doing. A cry of annoyed surprise escaped her lips. The man was - he was actually changing his clothes - here? Now? She stared in disbelief and hollered at Revan. "What is this nonsense? This is no time for the fashions! We must go! Now!"
Kicking aside his old tunic, Revan hurried towards his friends, adjusting the front of his new robes as he went. Jolee raised an eyebrow. "New threads! You gotta be kidding - now!...eh, you wouldn't happen to have any extras, would you?"
Revan shook his head. "I got the machine to - it's some kind of weird contraption - there was this thing on the feed that said 'Star Forge Robes'... and I kind of had a good feeling about that, so..."
"Forget it," snarled Juhani. "Fight now! Talk later!" With a shrill cry, the Cathar Jedi Force-jumped several metres ahead, cutting down a Master-and-Acolyte duo that had just emerged from one of the walkways leading from the decks. Quickly placing the accompanying Dark Jedi into stasis, Jolee Force-pushed several oncoming Sith grenadiers out of range and threw his lightsaber at the frozen Dark Jedi. Moving quickly, Revan cut a path through the Sith - troopers, grenadiers, and Dark Jedi alike; racing towards the elevator as fast as his legs would take him.
As he punched the elevator button, Revan noted that Juhani and Jolee were not far behind: however, a bevy of Dark Jedi were hot on their heels. He ripped the safety pins off two grenades and hurled them with all his strength at the approaching enemy.
Juhani and Jolee dived forwards, hitting the floor and rolling in time to escape being caught in the explosion.
Revan grabbed both of them by their collars and yanked them into the waiting elevator.
As the elevator sped upwards to the command centre, Juhani unceremoniously aimed a booted foot at Revan's rear, leaving a dark boot-print on the pristine white of his new garments.
"Hey!" yelped Revan. "What was that for?"
"That," hissed the Cathar Jedi, "was for insane-crazy throwing of grenades over. My. Head."
"I'd kiss you for having saved our butts just now, but that would be totally wrong," chirped Jolee. "Feel free to claim it from Juhani anytime, though..."
Before Juhani could make a suitable retort, the elevator doors had opened, and the three Jedi found themselves standing in the entrance to the command centre.
Bastila sat facing the large holomap, her eyes shut. A faint, glittering aura surrounded her person, an ethereal mirror of the specks that danced across the surface of the holomap: ships, snub fighters, bombers...
Silently touching the Force, Bastila marshalled her considerable willpower and focused on the Sith ships she knew to be circling the Star Forge, guarding the approaches to the immense war factory.
Through the Force, she could sense the presence of the sentients staffing each of the Sith Destroyers, the thoughts of the pilots who flew into the heat of battle against the approaching Republic capital ships... the Dark Jedi scattered throughout the Sith armada; and to these presences in the Force, collectively and individually, Bastila willed resolve - determination, conviction, tenacity - and imposed her will upon them.
This, thought Bastila, was the truest expression of her Gift. The Jedi had contented themselves with teaching her to use Battle Meditation as a means of strengthening the morale of one's allies while simultaneously lowering that of one's opponents: the Sith, however, pushed her talent a step farther. She no longer needed to stand by the sidelines, offering mere encouragement or spreading disenchantment, as the case might be - no, now she could bend the minds of many to her will - willing them, commanding them through the Force, to act as she would have them do. Her will became theirs, insofar as their weak and willing minds allowed her commands entrance. And there were so many, many, weak and impressionable minds...!
Nonetheless, for all her focus, one troubling notion continued to plague Bastila. However she tried to ignore it - to command it to desist from impinging upon her consciousness - it, like a stubborn rash, refused to go away. Troubled, Bastila broke her Battle Meditation to deal with the insistent thought before it drove her mad with its lurking presence.
As always, it was the same subject. Revan. Be honest with yourself at least, thought Bastila. This isn't just any old thought. This is... I don't know what it is! A memory? A moment? It bears with it so much more than just... an idea, or - or a recollection. It's loaded - emotionally loaded - and I dare not examine it. Why? What is there to fear? The Sith have freed me from... from the fear of facing my own emotions that the Masters fostered in me... why, then, am I afraid? I cannot go on like this!
Taking a deep breath, Bastila prepared herself to confront her feelings once and for all...
Revan, asleep in the pilot's seat with his feet on the display. Her embarrassment when he caught her staring at him. The strange, warm feeling she had experienced when he told her he found her attractive... the warmth she had felt when he first expressed his feelings for her... Revan, sitting by her side as she spent the night of that disastrous wedding party throwing up like there was no tomorrow... the many scrapes that they had been in together, their Court appearances in Manaan...
Amazing how just this one person could provoke a plethora of conflicting emotions within her - all of them so real, so powerful... so undeniable! And then, touching and colouring each and every one of the jumbled-up impressions, recollections, images and feelings that she could not dissociate from Revan: that one long and blissful moment in the women's cabin, when he had embraced her for the first time and they had stood like fools, wrapped in each other and in the moment, noses bumping as both of them clumsily attempted to outdo the other in sucking the air out of their lungs.
There was no denying that these memories - all of which were wrapped up with the subject of Revan - were painful to her now. Why? wondered Bastila. As a Jedi, suppressing and denying what I felt for him was grief itself: why, then, does it hurt me even more now to be honest about my feelings for him? Just thinking of Revan - to linger on him, even as a subject - is far more painful now than it ever was before I turned to the Sith. Why?
As if he had sensed her thoughts, Darth Malak's voice sounded in Bastila's head. "You must put aside your... petty sentiment for Revan, my Apprentice. Your foolish love for him will only weaken you - and in weakness, there is only death."
Bastila buried her face in her hands, the picture of misery. Was it truly weakness to love Revan? Or to desire his love? Painful as it was for her to linger on memories of the moments they had shared, Bastila could not deny that she felt a strange sort of security in re-living them. Tender words spoken, acts of random kindness, even Revan's inanely corny jokes - all of that tended to reassure her in some mysterious way. She did not understand how, or why it did; but she knew that she had never felt safer - or more assured - than she had at those times.
Love - was that the answer, then? Not the overbearing power of the Dark side. Not the malevolent storm of passion that was the Dark path, which, to be honest, truly frightened her: it offered no security, none at all! The way of the Sith was brutal, encouraging the perpetration of the grossest cruelties, manipulations and betrayals in the name of power-mongering. Even then, the power that might be gained from years of double-dealing and bloody warfare could be lost in an instant. With the Sith, there could be no letting down of one's guard. Shadows were, indeed, everywhere.
But she had never felt the need to watch her step around Revan - or any of the Jedi, come to think of it. The Masters on Dantooine might have been a "bunch of kooks", as Revan had put it - and hardly beyond reproach, but their hearts were largely in the right place. Even Master Vrook Lamar had been known to gruffly pat the occasional Padawan on the head from time to time. How she longed for that security - her old sense of self - again!
Could I ever return, though? agonised Bastila. I have fallen - fallen so far... I have even used my gift to aid the Sith - and there's no way I can justify how, or why I fell...! Can the Order ever take me back, again? Is there still a place in the Force for one such as I?
The door to the vast holomap chamber opened behind Bastila, interrupting her flow of thought. She jumped up and whirled around to face whoever it was. Revan! Juhani - and Jolee! Bastila quickly placed the latter two under stasis. Revan did not seem to notice: instead, he strode briskly forward, closing the gap between Bastila and himself in a matter of seconds.
"Princess..."
More out of pique than anything, Bastila shot back a shrill riposte. "The name is Bastila!"
"All right - Bastila." Revan paused, regarding the pale and obviously unhappy girl standing before him. Jolee's words to him just before they entered the holomap chamber echoed in his mind: "...love itself will save you, not condemn you." Looking deep into Bastila's eyes, Revan spoke gently.
"Bastila... you know why I'm here. I have to stop Malak."
Revan watched as the girl eyed him warily, backing away towards the holomap. He did not follow her.
"I know. And... I... have to stop you."
"Why, Bastila?"
Bastila frowned. "Because I'm his Apprentice, that's why - and, and... you're a Jedi - I'm a Sith now... things have changed, Revan."
Did he imagine it, or had there been just the slightest droop to Bastila's shoulders? wondered Revan. He pursued his inquiry. "That doesn't answer the question why, Bastila. And how have things changed? ...I still love you."
Bastila's heart leapt when she heard those words, and then twisted painfully under a dagger of self-accusation. She flung herself at Revan, her lightsaber sweeping furiously: Revan easily parried and re-directed each stroke, before firmly Force-pushing Bastila away.
"Please, Bastila...! Stop! I don't want to fight you - I don't want to hurt you -" pleaded Revan. Locked in stasis, Juhani and Jolee could only watch, powerless to intervene as events unfolded.
Bastila picked herself up off the floor, and reached out a hand towards the holomap: a bright light emanated from it and poured over her.
"Here, I cannot be defeated, Revan...! The power of the Star Forge energises me - and it will continue to do so until I cut you down - or you end me, forever," she told him.
Shaking his head, Revan addressed Bastila once more. "You say that as if there were no other choice, my love-"
"There is no other choice!" cried Bastila. "What choice do I have? What choice do you have? I have fallen, Revan - fallen! And now there is no Council to... to wipe my memories, to restore me to - to what I once was - what choice do either of us have?" Tears sprung unbidden to her eyes, and she wiped them angrily away.
"You do have a choice, Bastila...! You don't need a Council to - to mind wipe you, or - or do any sort of Force quackery on you to make you whole again... it's a decision you can make yourself, my love...! Come back, Bastila - please! You are not lost, not yet - and I went farther, much, much farther down the Dark path than you have. Please, Bastila! I love you..."
Revan sensed a tingling in the Force just in time to block a barrage of Force Lightning sent his way by Bastila.
"Do you see, Revan? Do you see now how far I have fallen? A Jedi - a true Jedi - would never have been able to do that! I am no longer... the same, Revan. How can you still love me?"
"Because I do, Bastila. Just like you could love me, knowing my true identity and history. How many could have loved one who had been Darth Revan - as you did?"
Bastila went even paler than before, and her hands shook. Her heart raced - could she, like Revan, come back to the Light? Was Revan offering her the support, the way out, that she so desperately needed? Could she - having known so much, yet fallen this far - be as easily forgiven? Was it all so easy?
"You... really do love me, don't you...?"
"I do, Princess." Revan laid both his lightsabers on the floor as he spoke to Bastila - "And I trust you enough to leave myself open to your attack."
Kill him! Now! This is your chance - redeem yourself in the eyes of your Master! screamed the Dark at Bastila. But she was as one dumb to its call: Revan - he trusted her, still? After all she had done? Even though she had held his freedom in her hands, kept his own identity from him - acted her role in the Masters' scheme? The faint flicker of hope and love that Malak had sought to extinguish in Bastila now burst gloriously forth, and the darkness he had thrown about her receded before its light.
Casting down her weapon, Bastila stumbled towards Revan, sobbing bitterly. Juhani and Jolee exchanged glances of relief as she threw herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over. Revan's heart raced as he put his arms around his beloved. He patted her back awkwardly and kissed the top of her head as Bastila wept into his shoulder.
"...you're not afraid to love anymore...?"
"No... not anymore... not - I... nothing could make me feel... safer, than... than to be loved... by you," said Bastila between sniffles. Presently, she looked up at Revan and smiled weakly at him. "I'm such an idiot," she said.
"We're both idiots," murmured Revan, as he dried the streaks that ran down Bastila's face with the sleeve of his new robes. "I guess that's why we need each other."
"You're either very brave, or very foolish," chided Bastila - but her heart wasn't in it.
"How else would I live up to my title of 'Sir Cabbage'?"
Bastila laughed a little and wiped her nose on her sleeve. The stasis under which she had placed Jolee and Juhani had worn off by this time, and both Jedi came running up. Noting their arrival, Bastila patted Revan affectionately on the shoulder, and straightened his robes.
"Malak is waiting for you at the heart of the Star Forge," she whispered. "I... dare not go with you, Revan. His dark presence may... overwhelm me."
Grasping her hand, Revan squeezed it firmly as he brought it to his lips. "Stay here, Princess. I will return for you." Summoning his weapons to him with the Force, Revan turned to leave. Just as he reached the door at the opposite end of the chamber, Bastila called out to him.
"May the Force be with you, my love."