Chapter notes: The Senate deliberates. Talia is clever. And Carth fills Revan's glass. The drink? Angst, of course.
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With Yuthura as their vanguard, the Venachi siblings entered the committee chamber in complete silence, their postures that of the hardened generals they were. The room's back wall was arced, matched to the curve of the raised platform on which the senators sat. They were behind an equally arced continuous desk ornately engraved with the Republic's sigil. About a third of the assembled senators sat at a series of clearly-temporary desks behind the front row – overflow seating for the lower-ranked members.
General Chunthar, the head of Republic Intelligence, was seated behind another desk at the main floor level and centered in the arc. He was taking fire from a 120-degree spread, Revan noted with some dark amusement. Not a situation that any combat veteran enjoys.
After a minute of listening to the conversation, it became clear the discussion was using as a basis the intel that he had provided several weeks ago. That meant his information had been verified to their satisfaction. That might give him some trust to build upon.
He wouldn't count on it, though.
"We believe that their initial goal is to cripple our military-industrial infrastructure, as well as Kolto production and distribution," Chunthar was explaining. "That is evinced by the enemy advances towards Corellia, Keltos, Sluis Van, and Manaan, and of course, the loss of Fondor. In addition, Foerost has been exposed to increased espionage efforts."
"How do you know that General?" interjected one of the senators. "Until recently, we didn't know this Sith empire existed. Now you tell me that you can detect their espionage activity?"
"Well, Senator, we have been aware of foreign operators in that and many other systems for some time, but we haven't known who they were working for until recently. Some we brought in, others we left under surveillance to discover their affiliation. The intel provided to us since then has enabled us to identify additional operators, and we have chosen to apprehend all but a few."
"The intel that the Revanchist provided," the same Senator queried.
"Yes, sir."
"And that intel has proven reliable?"
"Almost entirely, sir. A small portion of it has proven to be outdated, but nothing so far has been shown to be inaccurate or falsified."
"And how much of it have you analyzed?"
"All of it, sir. The Chancellor directed our agency to place all available resources on it. We are now into additional levels of analysis that will determine if there are patterns we can use."
Yuthura leaned close to Revan and whispered in his ear. "The subject of your data has already been beaten to death in weeks of hearings. No one has been able to find fault with it, but it still comes up."
"I'm flattered," Revan remarked.
As they continued to listen to the General's testimony, a series of murmurs began to ripple throughout the room. No journalists or civilians were allowed into this classified session; rather, the room was stocked exclusively with high ranking members of the military and the senatorial staff. In short, there were only seasoned professionals, and their blossoming awareness of his presence was kept well-controlled. Nevertheless, all three Jedi acutely felt the shift in the atmosphere.
"I think you've been spotted," Aeryn whispered on his other side.
"You're famous too," he clipped back.
"Barely," she countered.
Yuthura leaned towards the siblings. "Everyone in this room likely knows your face as well," she cautioned Aeryn.
"Damn it."
Revan smirked.
Chunthar concluded his testimony, having managed to exhaust the questions of the politicians. As he gathered his pads, an aide rushed up to the first tier of desks and stooped at the central position. He recognized the Senator as Ren, from Commenor. Next to her was Chambliss of Corellia. They must be the chairs of the committees hosting this inquisition.
Ren dismissed her aide and then leaned over to speak with Chambliss. After a moment, he shrugged and gave her a wave of dismissive affirmation. She resumed her perfect posture in the chair and looked out into the audience, finding their trio at the back of the room.
"Mister Venachi, I see that you have arrived punctually."
Revan almost laughed out loud. Their esteem of him was so low that noting his timeliness was the best salutation they could offer. This was going to be great. He stood.
"Yes, ma'am. I didn't have much else going on."
Aeryn pinched him on the arm. "Behave."
Ren ignored the comment, other than to glare condescendingly down at him. "Mister Venachi, the Chancellor has asked us to give you an audience, and we are reluctantly fulfilling that request. You may speak."
He was slightly disappointed that he didn't get a formal allotment of time. 'The chair recognizes the former Sith Lord and final Taris Swoop Champion, Revan Venachi' wasn't that much to ask for, really. With a fortifying glance at his sister's stern face, he managed to keep that wisecrack unspoken.
"Senators, thank you for your time. I am here at the Chancellor's request to explain the military necessity of an alliance between the Republic and the Clans of Mandalore."
A notable murmur arose within the room. He plowed onward, refusing to give anyone time to voice objection before his justification was heard.
"It is a matter of survival for the Republic. Our military is still weakened from the previous two wars, as is the Jedi Order. Yes," Revan cut off Ren's comment with a raised hand, "I am fully aware of the responsibility I bear in bringing us to this condition. I will spend my entire life serving the Republic to repay my debt, and I will never attain absolution. Regardless, the Sith Empire's forces outnumber the Republic's by at least a factor of two to one. We need every ally we can muster, and none would be more powerful than the Clans. In fact, they are our natural allies! During the leadership of Mandalore the Ultimate, the Clans were manipulated and corrupted by the Sith. Under Sith influence, they betrayed their values and engaged in acts that have dishonored an entire generation. That stain of dishonor can only be removed through the destruction of their former puppeteers."
Revan paused to gather his thoughts, and Senator Chambliss seized the moment to speak.
"Mister Venachi, surely you see that there is a profound dearth of trust here that cannot be easily overcome? The Mandalorians have not been seen or heard from since you defeated them, so we have no way by which to judge their supposedly transformed behavior." Many other senators nodded and murmured their agreement.
Revan eyed them carefully. "Are you not aware of their actions at Arkania? Ask Admiral Onasi – he was there when a Mandalorian fleet arrived to save the Republic forces from three Sith battlecruisers."
"Onasi's loyalty is suspect now that you have returned!" jeered someone on the far left of the seating.
Chambliss and Ren both sent glares in that direction. "Neither procedure nor decorum has been relaxed in this joint session," Chambliss growled, "and the Admiral's record of loyalty to the Republic is indisputable."
"General Chunthar?" Ren inquired of the intelligence chief, who was now seated in the front row of attendees. "What do you know of the events at Arkania?"
The Nautolan stood and cleared his throat. "We are still piecing together the exact events, but we do know that two Keldabe-class dreadnoughts and numerous Mandalorian support vessels arrived in time to prevent the loss of Admiral Onasi's flagship and then successfully destroyed the Sith fleet. Mandalorian commandos were also responsible for prematurely ending the kamikaze attack of the Sith cruiser."
It was inconceivable that the Chancellor didn't know of the Mandalorian involvement at Arkania. Revan wondered if he had withheld that information from the committee for a reason. Maybe it was simply to make his life harder, although it didn't seem that Hydrian bore him any ill will.
Ren and Chambliss were exchanging looks that Revan could not interpret, and he wasn't going to bother probing their minds. Besides the moral incertitude, he didn't have the patience to bear with their corrupt and venal thoughts. Instead, he seized their brief pause just as Chambliss had seized his.
"The Mandalorian culture is not well understood by most citizens of the Republic because we have only known them as barbaric invaders. There is no defense for their atrocities during the war, just as there is none for mine. Instead, I'm going to explain their culture as I have come to understand it after working closely with the Clans for the past several years."
Years was exaggerating to the point of an outright lie but he didn't care. They needed to regard him as an expert on this, and he was. During the way, he had studied the Resol'nare as well as their history and art. Seeing how they had clearly abandoned their social and ethical moorings had only left him hating the Mando'ade more. Now he used that knowledge to impress upon the Senators why they were such a tenable ally against the Sith.
He managed to expound on the idea for nearly ten minutes before being interrupted.
"You said you worked with the Mandalorian Clans for years. What was the nature of your work, Mister Venachi?" Ren probed.
"I was teaching them to kill Sith and Vong," he responded bluntly. "It's something I have experience in."
There was an uncomfortable silence until the Senator from Contruum leaned forward on his table and spoke. "You cannot ask the people of Contruum to fight alongside their former conquerors. You cannot ask them to trust these savages. A decade and a half is not as long a time as perhaps you feel. My planet still bears all the scars of the invasion."
Revan bowed his head in the Senator's direction. "I understand, Senator, and I don't find your sentiments unreasonable. Fighting alongside the Clans won't be necessary; we only need to coordinate strategic planning with them. And as for trust – the Mandalorians have already been responsible for foiling Vitiate's plans at Arkania. Whether we choose to trust them or not, they are most definitely now a permanent enemy of the Sith. Vitiate does not forgive or forget."
The Senator appealed to his colleagues. "The implications of an alliance with former enemies are quite grave, with far-reaching consequences that we cannot foresee. I motion we reserve this discussion for a senate quorum."
There was an immediate chorus of affirmation from about half of the committee. Revan cast a confused glance back to Yuthura, whose face was grim.
"If we delay for a full senate quorum, we may have lost precious time in the war effort!" countered Senator Lo'koot. He was straining to be heard over the commotions of heated discussion now breaking out at every table.
The picture became clear suddenly. It was a procedural tactic that would expand the decision-making to the full Senate. A deliberative process involving nearly a thousand worlds would balloon the challenge exponentially, and it would die a bureaucratic death. If the alliance was instead ratified here in the relevant committees, then it would take a sixty-percent majority vote of the entire chamber to overrule.
"These committees are convened because wartime strategy cannot be conducted by hundreds of individuals seeking group consensus!" Chambliss overrode every other speaker with his gruff and angry voice. "I decline to recognize any such motion. This matter is off the table for now unless my co-chair will recognize it?"
Ren waved her hand in a non-verbal scoff. "No, I will not."
Chambliss nodded agreeably to her. "Then this matter will be settled within these two committees."
Suddenly, the main entrance doors opened, and a new tension filled the room. Senators and aides alike jumped to their feet and began talking urgently. The ever-popular Queen Talia was entering, but the intimidating silver-armored Mandalore stood alongside her.
Revan intervened before some panicky Senator activated a fire alarm or issued an emergency call to security. "May I remind you all that, per the peace treaty signed at Malachor V, Mandalore is granted all the protections and privileges of a head of state! I'd also like to point out – he is unarmed."
"This is an outrage!" someone shouted.
"Call for security! It's a trap!"
"Order!" Chambliss was on his feet, liberally sharing glares around the entire room. The thunderous command echoed through the space. "We will have order! I will not let a proceeding of the galaxy's oldest institution devolve into cowardice and disarray! At a time of war, no less!"
With a huff, he returned to his seat. "There have been far too many irregularities to this joint session," he grumbled loudly for all to hear.
Queen Talia stopped alongside Revan. He quickly seized the opportunity to retreat from the focal point and return to his sister and Yuthura.
"Unfortunately, these are irregular times," Talia remarked in a tone that was both coy and respectful.
Chambliss leveled a finger at her, his anger not entirely assuaged. "You place yourself on precarious ground, Your Highness, even given the respect you have earned among this group. Please, explain why you are here with… him."
Talia gave a deep genuflection. The act threw aside her rightful status above the rest of the room and all typical protocol. Humility was often cited as one of her greatest attributes; she used it skillfully now.
"Esteemed Senators, I apologize for my interruption. I come here to add my own plea for alliance to that of Mister Venachi's, and to provide further testimony to the trustworthiness of the Mandalorian Clans.
"You all know my planet's history with the Mandalorians. You know how they invaded my world, killed and enslaved thousands, and left destruction in their wake. You know that it was only by the intervention of the Revanchists that my planet was liberated and that the battle on Dxun was the war's bloodiest… and costliest."
Revan could feel Aeryn tense at the mention of the battle of Dxun. He gave her arm a quick squeeze.
"But what you have not been told," continued Talia, "is how in the aftermath, a compromise was struck between Iziz and the Clans. Initially, we paid for their services to defend our territory against Revan and Malak. That expanded to include training for our armed forces. When Mandalore the Preserver assumed leadership of the clans, the money was spent instead on mutually beneficial trade, but the joint defense of our system continued. Over time, trust was built. I am proud to stand before you now and inform you that for four years, Onderon and The Clans have maintained a mutual defense treaty and a free-trade pact."
There were murmurs of disbelief and rumblings of outrage, but they were muted. Though the outer rim worlds were generally the most widespread harbors of bitterness, few could claim a longer and more personal knowledge of Mandalorian violence than Onderon.
"During the civil war my planet experienced, the Mandalorians came to our aid, along with Aeryn Venachi. They aided in the defense against Vaklu and the other insurrectionists. If you will recall, had those traitors succeeded in their coup, they would have immediately seceded Onderon from the Republic." She turned a friendly look to Mandalore, one of cool camaraderie that betrayed nothing of their romantic connection. "Mandalore and his warriors are directly responsible for Onderon's continuing membership in this noble body, and they contribute daily to the security and prosperity of my people.
"It is thus that I have directed our senate delegation to put all possible support behind a formal alliance of the Republic and The Clans. The people of Onderon have forgiven our former enemies and, with them, moved forward into a stronger future. I believe the rest of the Republic should do the same, now if ever."
Talia bowed to close her monologue, and for a long moment, silence filled the chamber. The first sound was that of Canderous' armored boot clanking on tile as he took one step forward.
"May I speak?" The seeming humility of the request was belied by the gruff authority natural to his tone. Idly Revan wondered if Talia had ever coached the grizzled warrior in speaking before a group of silver-tongued politicians. If so, she had more work to do.
"You may," Ren permitted with a distracted tone that revealed how overwhelmed this group was feeling.
"Most of the Republic believes that the Mando'ade value glory through battle above all else. I guess for the last several decades, that was true." He paused for a moment that astonished Revan with its air of grim self-reflection. "But for millennia," Canderous continued, "we have valued honor, not glory, above all else. Glory is the least important way by which a warrior may accrue honor. Service to first your family, then your clan, then the Mando'ade, and lastly to the Mand'alor. These are the foremost means to gain honor. Your service must strengthen our people.
"We see now that our service to Mandalore the Ultimate only corrupted and weakened our people. There is no honor or glory in battles that were fought for a hidden aruetii master in a war that left our people scattered and scraping out a living amongst the degenerate scum of the galaxy.
"No one can force the Mando'ade to do something we don't want to do. We were all complicit in losing our way. We were also manipulated by the Sith and their magic. For that, we owe them a debt of retribution. We owe them a war of skira – revenge.
"Whether the Republic stands or falls makes no difference to me – though it does to some I call friends. But I know that the Mando'ade will fall short of achieving skira if the Republic does not fully commit to defending itself or if we fight between ourselves."
Mandalore paused, then awkwardly but surely removed his helmet. There was a gasp from the whole room, including the Jedi. No one had expected this. It was unthinkable for Mandalore to reveal his face before outsiders, let alone politicians.
Revan and Aeryn shared a stunned glance. This had to be Talia's doing.
"I swear on my honor as Mand'alor and on the honor of the entire Mando'ade – we will not be the enemy of the Republic until the Sith are wiped from the galaxy. Until Vitiate and his empire die, we will not raise our weapons against the Republic except in self-defense."
With that pronouncement, he put his helmet firmly back in place and returned to a position just behind the Queen's right shoulder. Revan turned to Yuthura.
"Cameras in here?"
"No," she replied to his relief. "Not for classified sessions. Only audio recordings are made."
It was possible someone in the room recognized Canderous, but unlikely. If they didn't have an image to scrutinize, his identity might remain secret.
"We can't trust the savages!" one of the senators in the second row shouted. Chambliss hooked a glare back at the speaker.
"The problem of trust is a significant one," Ren noted somberly.
Talia stepped forward again. "Senator, may I speak?"
"Certainly, your Majesty," the woman acceded.
"I believe I can make the issue of trust an obsolete one. The Charter makes clear that the alliance of a member system with any wartime enemy of the Republic, as specified by the Chancellor and ratified by the Senate, is a violation of the treaty laws of the Republic and grounds for automatic revocation of membership. If an individual member of the Republic were to ally with the Mandalorians, that system would be staking its very livelihood and security upon the belief that the Mandalorians will not betray the Republic."
This piqued Revan's curiosity. If she proposed Onderon to fulfill this role and the Republic still did not ally with the Mandos, she would have spent a great deal of political capital with little to show for it, and would likely have mortally diminished her standing within the Senate.
"This is what Onderon is willing to do, for the Clans have my full trust." There was shuffling among the senators, none of them seeming to know how to react. "However, if the Republic does not choose to ally with the Clans, I still will."
That got a reaction from the room. Revan rocked back in his chair, surprised and impressed. Talia would force the Republic into a defacto alliance, one which could only be terminated by the Senate's declaration of war against the Mandalorians or its expulsion of Onderon. It was a brilliant play.
Beside him, Yuthura breathed a similar sentiment.
"Furthermore," continued Talia over the restrained din, "Mandalore and I will instate Revan Venachi as supreme commander of our joint forces."
Revan shot to his feet, almost ahead of the explosive reaction in the crowd of senators. Talia's back was still turned to him, but Canderous twisted just enough to glance back over an armored shoulder. Even though his face was hidden, he just knew the bastard was smirking.
He didn't want that kind of power. He couldn't be trusted to have it. He would refuse.
Beside him, Aeryn watched his reaction closely. "Let the Queen make her move," she whispered at him.
"Your Highness, do you mean this to be a threat?" queried Chambliss irritably while waving his hands at the other politicians for silence.
Ren leaned forward, fixing Onderon's ruler with an icy gaze. "To be clear, Queen, that is how it sounds."
"Forgive me, Senators," Talia demurred, "I only mean to say that, should the Republic choose not to acquire these valuable allies, then the government of Onderon shall. To view this Sith invasion as anything less than an existential threat would be naïve, I fear, and I will use every resource at my disposal to ensure my people's survival and liberty."
"Why in blazes would you hand control of your army to a traitor?" hammered Lork Yondell from Chambliss' right. That particular Senator had accused Bastila of being one of his many supposed whores. His left fist itched to punish him for the comment; consequences be damned. He knew he could beat the corrupt sack of filth to a well-deserved death even with just his hands.
"Even though Mister Venachi was once a traitor, before and after that, he was also a hero who saved the Republic from destruction. In strategy and tactics, he has no living equal. Furthermore, I believe his service is uncommitted at this time. Although Mandalore and I have not discussed this in advance with him." Talia made a flawless pivot on her heels to face him. "Mister Venachi, will you accept this position if necessary?"
Revan swallowed hard but remembered Aeryn's caution. "I will," he answered levelly.
"Thank you," the Queen acknowledged, then returned her attention to the senators. Unsure of what to do next, Revan settled for slouching back into his seat.
Yuthura leaned into his ear and spoke quietly with a wry smile. "Posture would help the Supreme Commander's public image."
Her words, though harmless, solidified the knot within his stomach into a bottomless gravity well. He stood again and swiftly exited the chamber. Yuthura shot a guilty look at Aeryn, but she waved it away and quickly followed her brother.
Several pairs of patrolling guards walked the halls outside the chamber. Even so, the space was large enough that Revan could find relative solitude on an ornate wooden bench. He wanted to be alone, but when his sister alighted on the seat next to him, he didn't have the callousness to send her away.
She studied him silently; he felt her gaze and ignored it, hoping she would be content to provide him with quiet company. She leaned back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling before letting out a wondering sigh.
"So… big bad Canderous took his helmet off in front of a bunch of aruetii, probably because the old ball and chain said so."
Despite himself, Revan laughed dimly. "Yeah, that actually happened, didn't it?"
"He wouldn't reveal his identity to me when we first met, even though I'm sister to the revered Revan'naast. But to a bunch of Senators, why not?"
"Man, you've got that thing really wedged up your exhaust port, huh?"
Aeryn threw her hands up in exasperation. "I mean, come on! I probably crossed swords with the man during the war. I led the frelling Dxun campaign." She leaned forward to look him in the eyes. "It's just rude, right?"
Revan smiled. "Mandalorians aren't known for their manners. At least, not ones we understand."
He could feel his sister's internal pressure climbing ever so slightly as she continued to bite her tongue. But she let the conversation lie, granting them several minutes of peaceful silence before asking, "So what's stuck up your exhaust port, huh?"
"Fine," he sighed as the hope of evasion dissolved. "This is just like the last time. I start out trying to do the right thing, and then somebody hands me a lot of control, then I get arrogant and jaded and lose my way. I can't be trusted with that much power."
"You don't trust yourself with a lot of power," Aeryn rebutted, "but I trust you. Anyone who knows your journey would. If Talia appoints you her supreme commander –"
"I'll turn it down."
"– you'll accept it and use that brain of yours to save a lot of lives and win this war."
"What if that's not the path the Force wants me to take?"
"Well, if the offer comes, then the Force will lead you down the right path, one way or the other."
Revan hung his head. His faulty interpretation of the Force had resulted in Bastila's death. Or worse, his interpretation had been correct and the Force had willed for Bastila to die. How could he trust it or himself again?
Impossible.
Aeryn rubbed his back, thankfully not perceiving the turmoil within his mind. His shields had always been strong. "You're strong in the Force, Revan. You've always been so good at hearing what it says to you. I know you'll do the right thing." She stood. "I'm going to comm Atton. Be back in a few." With that, she strolled off in search of another private area.
At least she could still hear the sound of her love's voice.
Revan pushed the bitter musing aside and tried to constrain his thoughts to the political mess in which he had become ensnared. If the Senate refused to ratify the alliance and Talia made good on her threat, what would happen when he refused the appointment? Would that validate the Senators' nerf-brained unwillingness to acknowledge the Republic's desperate circumstances? How many worlds would fall before they were convinced to ally with their former enemies?
The winds of politics were foreign to him now. They had been nearly incomprehensible in the past, but at least there had been allies to assist. The Chancellor had only been one avenue by which he could influence policy, and numerous Senators provided more. However, that former head of state was long gone, and every other bridge he had burned when he betrayed the Republic. Now he had solely Yuthura, whom he trusted completely, and Hydrian, who was still largely unknown. The Khil's actions thus far showed promise, but that might change the moment his self-interests realigned.
Bastila had known the Senate well. Despite the temper he tended to bring out in her, she had always been a hell of a diplomat.
Force, he wished she were here with him.
Curse the Force for taking her away!
A tear escaped his eye and rolled to the floor. He surged to his feet in frustration. Aeryn was just returning, but her bright expression fell as she saw his face. With great effort, he forced composure into his features, turning them to a stony resolute. She was about to ask a question, but he cut her off.
"You should go be with Atton if you want. I'm sick of this place." Knowing she would worry, as he breezed past, he added, "I'll catch you on the Hawk later."
He exited the Senate Building and traveled by foot the entire way back to their landing bay.
"Where are you HK?" Carth hollered into the hangar bay where the Ebon Hawk was parked. It seemed unoccupied, but he knew better. "Show yourself so we can get this over with."
There was a crackle of energy to his left, and the tall red droid appeared out of thin air. He steeled himself against showing any surprise.
"Statement: The Master does not wish to be disturbed."
"He gave you those instructions?"
"Explanation: The Master did not have to. My analysis of his body language and temperament upon his return indicated a 96.6% likelihood that he desired solitude."
"Are you going to keep Aeryn and Atton off the ship too?"
"Reply: If necessary
"I could come back here with a platoon and subdue you. You think you could hold this ramp against hundreds of troops?"
"Answer: Affirmative."
Something in the droid's tone made Carth suspect that he had actually calculated a poor probability for success, but was nevertheless lying about it. Could droids lie? If any of them could, it would be this one.
"I brought him some whiskey."
"Analysis: The Master does enjoy this drink. Although alcohol is known to reduce or incapacitate the faculties of most meatbags, I have not observed this in the Master. Also, I believe a sufficient amount of time has passed, and his mood may have now altered into the state of loneliness that peculiarly afflicts organic sentients."
Carth rolled his eyes. "I know for a fact that Revan ordered you to allow me onto the ship at any time."
"Warning: Do not fool yourself into thinking you know the full extent of my risk-assessment capabilities. My processing matrix still allows me to dispose of true threats, even when that might seem to countermand the Master's commands. You may proceed, beta male."
Revan had been kriffing Sith Lord, but Revan's worst piece of baggage was that fucking droid. He marched irritably up the Hawk's ramp and into the main hold, which was silent and dim. He found the man sitting in the pilot's seat with his legs kicked up on the flight instruments. Everything was so still that at first, Carth thought he might be sleeping.
"I'm not sleeping."
Carth started. "Did you read my mind?"
"No. I would never. Just heard you coming, then your feet got all quiet, then you were just staring at the back of the chair."
"Oh." Carth strode forward and dropped into the copilot's position. "I bring news from the senate," he explained while placing a bottle and two tumblers on the console between them.
Revan sat up and looked straight at him. Carth didn't know whether it was for the information or the whiskey. He wasted no time in dispensing both. "The Senate has agreed to ratify an alliance treaty with the Mandalorians, provided the language meets their approval. I understand that the Chancellor and 'ol Candy are hammering out the details right now."
"You've been spending too much time with Mission," Revan remarked at the nickname. A fleeting desire to smile was snuffed out by the choking weight across his chest.
"I've been trying to, anyway," Carth responded. "So that's good news, though I hear you'll be missing out on a nomination for supreme commander."
That point eased his anxiety slightly. He drank some of the whiskey, letting the woodsy burn fill his palette before swallowing it down.
"I also got handed a promotion. Full admiral. But I couldn't get a field commission through for you."
He looked Carth in the eyes as a small bubble of pride grew. "That's great, partner. You deserve it. You earned it."
"Well, I wish I could have leveraged it to get you instated. Reinstated. We could really use you in command."
Revan waved it off casually to hide his relief. "I'll find other ways to be useful."
Carth stared deeply into his tumbler of golden liquid. "It's worse than that. The Senate expressly forbade you from enlisting at any rank. I might be able to bring you in as an advisor, but that depends on what the other brass agree to. A lot of them still hold a grudge. So if you decide to rejoin… you'll be starting at private."
Laughter erupted through his painful throat. It startled his friend, he could tell, but he couldn't stop it, and didn't want to. "That's fantastic! That's exactly what I'm going to do."
"What?" No doubt Carth was wondering if this was sarcasm or maniacal sincerity.
"Yeah, buddy. I'm going to enlist as a private." Revan took another small swig. "It's perfect. I don't want rank. I don't want to have that kind of power." Or responsibility. "I can feel that my calling this time is a lot less grandiose and a lot simpler." At least, I want it to be.
Carth looked astounded. Revan pitied his uncomprehending stare and decided to explain. "Look, the Jedi aren't going to take me back and I don't want to go. To the Republic, I'm a traitor and deservedly so. What else am I going to do? I have nowhere to be a wartime leader again."
Carth's gaze sharpened. "I bet the Queen or the Mandalorians would take you. They'd give you a rank where you could do some real good. We're going to need commanders like you to win this war."
Revan shook his head. "The price on the back end is too high to pay."
"You won't fall to the dark side again," Carth reassured him; it sounded more like a plea.
"There is no dark side," he quipped to himself softly. "Look, Carth – at the end of the day, I'm a deeply flawed person who already has too much power. I'm not going to accumulate more, even if it's being given to me. That isn't what the Force wants."
Carth hung his head, and the disappointment radiating off him was palpable. It hurt Revan more than he would have thought. It was the strongest sensation he'd felt since Bastila's death. It surprised him that he could feel anything other than her loss. At least this new cloak of shame made a companionable addition to the guilt and grief he was already wrapped in.
And those dark emotions were useful reminders of why he could not accept a command.
For several long minutes, both men regarded their drinks, and the dawn creeping in through the end of the hanger bay, and studiously avoided looking at each other.
Eventually, Carth cleared his throat and spoke. "Well, I don't like it, but I understand." He looked over at his friend with the sympathetic eyes of a man who had lost just as much and almost more.
"Thanks," Revan acknowledged with heartfelt sincerity. They lapsed into silence again for a few minutes. The pink glow of early morning was just starting to fill the cockpit.
"You should enlist in the Recon Commandos."
"You think?" Revan remembered that division of the Army from the Mando War. He had fought alongside them several times. They were fearless, ruthless, and professional, and he held them in high esteem.
"They'd probably waive a lot of the requirements to have you. I mean, you technically have all the prereqs, but you know… paperwork junk. It will be a good place to get even with the Sith for killing Bastila."
That notion pulled at a savage instinct deep within his heart. Killing Sith might feel good.
Maybe you killed her, not them.
"Yeah," was all Revan chose to say. "I'll check into it."
"I'm going to get my office to push through the enlistment papers for you. I'm taking a group out the Braxant Run in a few days, but my staff can help you if anything gets snarled up."
"Thanks." He felt both warmed and strangely irritated by Carth's desire to help. "You should take Dustil and Mission. There ought to be a Jedi in every detachment to sniff out Vong and counter the Sith. And… get all the time with family that you can."
For the third time in two decades, the Republic was at war. Every moment was precious.
Revan refilled both their tumblers.
"Allied with the Mandalorians against Sith that have been hiding for a thousand years," Carth summarized, leaning back in the chair and bringing the whiskey to his lips. "What the hell is this galaxy coming to?"
"This is going to be the last war with the Sith," Revan noted solemnly. Both men knew it. One way or another, this would be the last for the Republic.
"So now what?" asked Carth.
"We pray the Senate never finds out Talia and Canderous are married."
Carth's jaw hit the floor before his tumbler.
A plain shuttlecraft pierced through the low, gray clouds and canted in for a smooth, slow descent, kicking out landing gear as it settled to a stately rest upon the duracrete pad. The upward folding wings seemed to scribe a sorrowful motion like hands forming into a prayerful tent.
As she twisted her fingers together nervously, Visas wondered if even the soulless machine recognized the lament of this occasion. The tension in her hands matched the contortions within her stomach. Beside her, Jolee heaved a sad, grumbling breath. This would be as close as he ever came to burying a daughter. The lines on his wizened face had grown deeper since they had received the news.
The seer wondered if her own face showed the grief like his. She had never paid much attention – any at all, really – to the contours of her own body. It was nearly meaningless for a race whose vision was entirely non-corporeal. Still, one hand crept up to wipe moisture from a vestigial tear duct and lingered, exploring the shape of her skin. The brief dalliance with vain self-awareness went nowhere, however, because at that moment, the shuttle's ramp hissed open.
There was no honor guard to escort the casket out, only a pair of service droids whose memories would be promptly wiped. The loss of Bastila's battle meditation would be a dearly guarded secret. Visas wondered if this Sith Emperor was powerful enough to have sensed her death; she wondered if he even knew who she was.
Jolee was the first to step forward. He met the casket partway, lovingly draping a hand over the windowed upper portion. The droids stopped, muttered a word of mechanical condolence, and then returned to the shuttle, leaving behind the frozen body of their leader.
Visas joined the former recluse, laying her own hand upon the cold glass, wishing she could reach inside the cryo-chamber and caress the cheek of her dear friend. Bastila's face was composed, serene, and her hair framed neatly about her extra-pale face. The window extended just far enough to reveal a portion of her lightsaber and how it was held gently against her body by overlaid hands. She still wore the robes she had left Naboo in, though an additional thermal layer had been added underneath. It felt unjust that the means by which her life had been stolen had left her garments intact. Still, seeing her friend's body whole and unmolested was a small comfort. It gave her hope that Bastila had found peace in her last moments.
In this repose, Bastila held the air of a queen. To Visas, that felt right.
Vandar was the next to reach the casket. With his stature, he could not look inside but nevertheless placed his green, three-fingered hand upon the cold shell and, with a weary breath, closed his eyes and bowed his head.
"Dear Bastila," the oldest Jedi intoned mournfully, "you have become one with the Force. Be at peace. Your body and your spirit are now home."
Heavy sobs suddenly erupted from Jolee. Tears streamed openly down heartbroken his face. He lowered his lips to the glass and pressed a woeful kiss against it.
Visas' tears, which had flown slowly since the shuttle touched down, were now flowing at full force. Truthfully, she hadn't known her body possessed the ability to cry like this. Still, she remained characteristically quiet. What sound could her throat produce that would capture the hopelessness she felt? Her thoughts had been bleak ever since that vision had invaded her mind.
A galaxy of billions of stars being washed under a wave of blood, then being swallowed by a blackness that winked out each pinpoint of light until none were left. Revan's voice, twisted in madness and torment, repeating over and over this will end it; then behind that, Bastila's forlorn and ghostly whisper – not how I wanted it to end, not how I wanted it to end.
It had begun the night Bastila died and had continued to haunt her every night since. It filled her with the dreadful sense that something had broken, that destinies had been altered in a terrible way.
The future needed to be corrected, and she didn't have the faintest idea of how.
Other members of the Jedi Order now came forward to gaze upon their fallen leader – masters, a few knights, and every member of the Council. No Padawans were present, but one: Varia stood with Mira, having returned on a separate shuttle only minutes before. They stayed to the rear of the hanger, the younger woman clinging to the older; Visas assumed the pair had already seen plenty of their master's corpse. The seer continued to hover near Bastila, for some reason unable to move further away than was necessary to allow others a glimpse.
After a few minutes, it was time to move the casket into the academy proper, where it would rest in a private room until Revan could come to Naboo for the official funeral. The decision to grant his request had been unanimous. Now Jolee pushed the floating casket, and Visas followed closely behind. The shuttle's engines were powering back up as a memory seized upon her mind – a conversation between her and Bastila that had occurred not long after Visas, Atton, Mira, Mical, and Bao-dur had made contact with the Jedi Order.
The second crew of the Ebon Hawk, now homeless and leaderless, were each interviewed at length by the masters of the Council. Visas had spent the most time speaking with Bastila, who had been kind and open-minded in their discussions. She had felt a strong desire to reveal herself to the Grandmaster, perhaps to unburden herself, or perhaps to be known, as Aeryn had known her. So she had retold the complete story of her service to Nihilus, including her failed attempt to capture the Exile, and then her time spent in service to the Exile, all the while remaining fearfully in the grip of the dark side. It wasn't until the freedom of her master's death that she had finally embraced the light.
"Your service to Aeryn Venachi – instructing her, defending her, guiding her – those are actions worthy of a Jedi," Bastila said.
Visas refused to let her acts be abjured so easily. "I was self-serving. I only protected her because I hoped she might defeat Nihilus or provide me some means of escape."
The Grandmaster studied her quietly. Her gentle stare was both piercing and kind, and she could tell there were deep currents veiled by a calm surface. Those eyes had seen too much for her young age, Visas was certain.
When the master spoke next, it was with the deep certainty of bitterly earned experience and a tone of profound sympathy.
"Oh, Visas. Any good deed in the name of darkness is done unto the light. Just as any evil act done in the name of the light is really unto darkness." She blinked slowly as if behind her eyes, a powerful memory replayed. "Several years ago, I fell to the dark side and was later saved. Trust this from someone who failed to do any good deed in the name of darkness or light – even before renouncing the dark side, you have honored what it means to be a Jedi."
Visas had cried silent tears in Bastila's company then; now, she did so again. This time, her tears would not be eased by a firm embrace.
Aeryn had been her purpose, but the woman in the casket had been her closest friend.