A/N: Hey everyone, sorry it's taken me so long. I was dealing with the end of my Freshman year of College and then the first week of settling back into life at home. Hope everyone's having a good summer.

Kane: I have to say, I was really happy when I saw what you thought I should do with Vader. I'd already been planning on the ghost/ressurrection style event because of what it has to do with Revan's mental state and what my plans are for the character going forward. Seeing you suggest it made me sure it was the right road to travel and also "great minds think alike." Also, your suggestion with Nihilus' abilities actually fits better into the story than what I was planning before and will definitely tie in to the Rakatan plot line that keeps popping up. Unfortunately, I do not have any plans for T3 or HK at the moment, as both were completely destroyed, T3 at the battle with the Emperor and HK on Mustafar (according to old EU canon). R2 might show up down the road, as there is a character I'm thinking about for the second arc or sequel story. Not telling at the moment, however. Regarding the Forge and its capacities, I do have some ideas about what to do with that in relation to some TOR missions and the return of the Rakata. I have a few ideas, also, for some Sith Assassin style characters in the second arc/sequel, as the conflict will be seriously ramped up. Thanks so much for your interest in this story of the old EU canon; May the Force be with you.

SWSWSWSWSW

"Your dealings with the senators at the gala," Gann began in the crew's meeting with the Triumvirate, "helped cement our positions in the galactic stage. Thank you." He clasped his hands behind his back and stood tall at the head of the long table in the dark room.

Ana grunted. She was trying her best to ignore her father. "You can't have just called us here for that," she said.

"Perceptive and direct as always," Gann complemented, eliciting nothing more than a poorly concealed snarl from his daughter. Gann sighed and shook his head. "You are correct. We decided that this coming mission required a further briefing than those you have undertaken before."

Horn picked up where Gann left off. "Our spies have reported that some old Sith contacts have become increasingly active in the past few months. Apparently they have been searching around for smugglers, 'the best of the best,'" she explained. "Their search has, thus far, been fruitless. They've announced a... contest of sorts. The Sith are apparently looking for a group of thieves-slash-smugglers, and have announced a meeting place for all smugglers, famed or unknown. The Eagle's design as a smuggling vessel, your experience with the Sith and their goals, as well as all of your specific skills and relative lack of recognition all make you the perfect group for undertaking this task."

"So you want us to win a competition for thieves, murderers, and smugglers?" Van asked. "Well, it's not like we'll be stealing from you. Oh wait, we will."

"We know. We have decided that there will be total deniability for this mission. If you are captured by the Triumvirate soldiers, you will remain captured. The Sith cannot know that we have entered the competition," the chancellor stated. "The primary meeting takes place on Nal Hutta, you should leave immediately."

Revan stood in the corner watching his three allies deal with the Triumvirate. His head was pounding and clouded from the medication he had been given. He would occasionally feel a buzzing in the back of his mind, as if the words of the voice in his head were struggling to break through the medical haze that had burned his senses raw and weak. He clutched at the bridge of his nose and groaned as another jolt of pain ran through his mind, accompanying the buzzing. "Revan? Revan, did you hear me?"

Revan's eyes shot open and his cloudy vision barely recognized Ana's form in front of him. He shook his head again to clear his vision and saw that it was only the two of them. Ana's eyes ran with worry at his weakened state. "Oh, um..." he shook his head again. "I... I..."

Ana's face became plastered with pity, and a flash of anger ran through Revan's chest. "Don't look like that!" he half-snapped. "I'm not broken!"

"Disagree," Rhen said. He walked in and crossed his arms.

Revan glared at the twi'lek. "Why? Why do you constantly act like this with me!?"

The twi'lek seemed to ignore the question. "The mission could ride on you being at your best. We can't afford a hazy and broken operative in the field. Smugglers are quick, both in mind and body. Like this, you could barely pass for a broken protocol droid," Rhen stated coldly.

Revan felt his hands clench into fists. "Are you trying to get punched, cause that's what it sounds like," Revan growled.

Rhen scoffed. "You can barely control your anger even now. However, I've been outvoted by Van and your gir-" the twi'lek was suddenly cut off by a punch from his left. Ana's fist pulled away from Rhen's face, and she glared at the Jedi. He stared between Revan and Ana, then left nursing a black eye.

Revan sighed. "That was – I'm sorry," he said. Then he winced as another jolt of pain ran through his skull. "He's right about me, though. I'm only going to get in the way."

"When have you ever gotten in the way, Rev?" Ana asked.

"You mean the time I tried to kill your father?" he asked her with a half-smile. She chuckled at him and walked out to the ship with him, hand in hand.

SWSWSWSWSW

Grand Moff Gann watched his daughter leave from the windows of his office. "What's wrong, Thornish?" Horn asked from behind him. Gann did not turn towards her, knowing that she would see the conflict on his face. He was slightly foolish to think that a turned back could hide the workings of his mind from the Grand Jedi Master. "Your daughter has grown close with the boy, has she not?"

Gann let his face fall and his eyes shut. "That boy, he..."

"You regret the lies we've told him," Horn finished. She sighed and walked up next to Gann. She placed her hand on her friend's shoulder and turned him towards her. "But you would forget the way that it was. Fifteen years ago, when both of us held so much less power. We saw the Sith acting through others, but none would believe us."

"So the terrible things that we've done have a good reason?" Gann asked. He scoffed. "That hardly helps me sleep at night."

"Good. If it did, I would be more worried about you," Horn explained. She let go of Gann's shoulder and turned to the sunset out the window. She changed the topic of the conversation. "So, what happened between you and the Hapan?"

"Ugh... Tel-Zu," Gann said. His voice was filled with exasperated disgust. "That 'date' was the only way I could get her to re-sign the Hapan-Triumvirate treaty. Why?"

"You are my friend, Thornish. Longer than any I have known, you have stood by me and I you. That woman... she did terrible things for much less than we did. Tenel Ka II... I doubt the child met a kind end," Horn explained. She crossed her brown robed arms. "But perhaps she learned how to exterminate Skywalkers from the rest of us."

Gann turned to his oldest friend. "Sylven, you came in here to comfort me, don't fall into the same abyss I dug," he half-joked.

Horn half-chuckled. "Indeed, I should not," she said with a smile. Then her face became serious again. "The boy will not remain in the dark forever. It is only a matter of time before..."

"You are sure the voice is... not of the Force?" Gann asked.

Horn sighed and ran her hands over her face. "No– yes, it – I'm not sure. Given his ancestry, it's entirely possible Revan speaks to Theron. The Force acts much more subtly when it acts upon a bloodline. Luke's appearances to Cade were... neither seen nor felt by others. It could have been the Deathsticks. But we believe him."

"So Theron Fel might not be crazy," Gann said. He stared out of the window, thinking of his daughter so close to the boy. "I'm not sure if that comforts or scares me."

SWSWSWSWSW

Nal Hutta was a dank, putrid, swampy, polluted, trashy, gangster filled excuse for a planet. The second homeworld of the Hutts was a stolen sphere, one whose original inhabitants had either left in diaspora or had been exterminated through systematic enslavement and exposure to the elements of their destroyed home. "Just when I thought Nar Shaddaa was the deepest pit in the universe," Rhen groused as a noxious bubble of filth popped in the nearby toxic lake.

"Well, at least Nar Shaddaa a beautiful pit. With strippers and pazaak," Van pointed out.

Revan chuckled along with Van. "Ugh, the sooner we get out of here the better," Rhen grumbled again. He fidgeted with his loose civilian clothes and the blaster on his hip. "I can't wait to use my -"

"Ixnay on the ightsaberlay," Ana hissed at the twi'lek, who grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry," Rhen chuckled. He crossed his arms and became serious. "I am the only one who isn't used to blasters, though."

Revan shrugged his shoulders and pulled the blaster from his hip with an elaborate flourish. "Oh, don't worry. You're not gonna be total bantha fodder," he told Rhen, who glared at him as they walked into Zooraba the Hutt's casino. Revan placed the blaster back on his hip and smiled semi-arrogantly at his former best friend.

The group walked through the den of debauchery and Hutt mob-dom, casually marching side by side into the designated meeting room for the "contestants" of the galactic thieving spree. "Wow, that's Rannsk, he stole five million credits worth of paintings in the middle of the day at the Galactic Museum! Ooh! And Miriana... she's famous for – supposedly – stealing a whole building once!" Van pointed at the contestants.

"How'd you know?" Revan asked.

Van opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly froze. "Oh no," he sighed. He covered his face with his hand and looked down to his left.

"What's wrong?" Rhen asked the suddenly scared shitless pilot.

"Everyone shut up and listen here," a demanding female voice roared. The entire room, save Van, turned towards the source of the voice. It was a woman, somewhere in her early fifties. She was a Kiffar whose dark dreads were put up in a ponytail that reached down to the middle of her back. Strapped to her hips was a very impressive assortment of weaponry, including self modified blasters and thermal detonators. She was dressed somewhere between bounty hunter and smuggler, but with every movement she seemed to fall more towards one end of the spectrum or the other. "I'm the handler of this here little... contest. The name's -"

"Mara Zros," Van said at the same time as the woman. He sighed and continued hiding his face from the woman whose gaze passed over him without a second thought.

"You may or may not know me – I beat the Triumvirate blockade of a Chiss breakaway group fifteen years ago. Made fifty million off that one mission. Now, I'm looking for a crew to help me pull off the craziest jobs ever. Those who make the cut... well, let's say the pay is substantially larger per person than the job that made me infamous," she stated. She paused for dramatic effect and so that the assembled lowlives could make their "oohs" and "ahs" at the payout.

She smiled smugly as the groups of smugglers began to talk excitedly amongst themselves, making plans of where they would spend over 50 million credits each. "But not all of you nerf herders are gonna make it," Mara snapped. Her face grew into a sharp, cruel grin that turned the yellow line across her face into a crinkled "V" shape. "In fact, only ten of you losers will survive the first round."

The room, filled with nearly 150 smugglers, thieves, and thugs, immediately grew deathly quiet. "The ten of you best at stealin', lyin', and killin'. Ten might even be an overestimate for this job – or under. Just know there's not enough Spice in the Coruscanti lockup for y'all to bring in forty kilos a person." Mara grinned and lifted one of her blasters from her hip and into the air. She fired off one blast and screamed, "Clock's tickin' losers!"

The room erupted into chaos as the assorted smugglers rushed from the room so that only Revan, Rhen, Ana, Van, and Mara Zros were left. "Well, already got some stragglers," the smuggler derided.

Van seemed to bite the inside of his cheek from saying something sarcastic back. "We want to make a plan before we decide to go running into Republic space for Spice in one of the most heavily guarded evidence vaults in the galaxy," Rhen finally said. His eyes narrowed at the woman.

Finally, Revan thought, someone he'll hate more than me.

"Fine, fine, strangers," the woman said. She turned around, her deceptively hazy eyes barely even passing over the crew. Van's hand covered his face from her view, still. "Plans always were one of Van's strong suits."

The pilot nearly seized up as the woman walked away. He began to twitch and shiver almost uncontrollably. "What's crawled up your exhaust pipe?" Ana asked.

Van shook his head and gulped down some air. The usually arrogant pilot seemed almost... cowardly and timid. "I, uhm... th-that was my mom," he groaned.