Ice paced the length of the small apartment, her movements sharp and restless. Every second that passed only made the weight in her chest heavier.
Talan had sent word over the comlink—he had found Bastila, and the two of them were on their way back.
Carth had looked relieved the moment he heard the news, his usual tension easing slightly. Ice, on the other hand, had barely concealed her scowl. Not that she had tried.
Fifteen years. That was how long it had been since the Shan sisters had last seen each other, and Ice had no illusions that their reunion would be any more pleasant than their parting.
More than once over the past few days, she had questioned why she was even bothering with this mess. Why she had risked her neck helping this ragtag group of misfits rescue Bastila in the first place. A small, bitter part of her almost wished they had failed. Maybe it would do Bastila some good to spend some time in a cage, to feel what it was like to be truly powerless.
Where had the Jedi been when the Mandalorians were burning worlds and slaughtering civilians? Where had Bastila and her Order been when people like Ice had been forced to fend for themselves, scraping by while entire planets were enslaved?
Maybe now she would understand what it felt like to be helpless, to pray for someone to come to the rescue, only to have those hopes crushed under the boot of reality.
A voice pulled her from her thoughts.
"You know, Ice," Carth said from where he lounged on the sofa. "It's been a long time. I'm sure Bastila will be happy to see you. You are family, after all."
Ice stopped pacing and turned to look at him.
He actually believed that. He thought this was just another strained sibling relationship, as if all she and Bastila needed was a heartfelt reunion and a warm embrace to fix everything.
She snorted and turned away without responding.
Let him think what he wanted. She had no desire to explain herself, nor did she owe him an explanation. It didn't matter anyway.
As soon as they got off this disgrace of a planet, she would say goodbye to Bastila again.
This time, for good.
Bastila and Talan walked in silence, and she was perfectly fine with that.
She needed time to collect her thoughts, to steady herself after everything she had just endured. But more than that, she needed to process the reality of who she was now walking beside.
Revan.
Not that he went by that name anymore. The Jedi Council had seen to that, stripping him of his past, erasing the Dark Lord of the Sith, and replacing him with something new. Or, at the very least, someone new.
Talan Owens.
It was an identity that had once belonged to a Republic soldier who had perished in the Mandalorian Wars. A man with no surviving family, no history that mattered. The perfect shell for the Jedi to mold into something else. They had taken Revan and forced this identity onto him, reprogramming his mind, giving him a life that had once belonged to another.
He seemed different now—more reserved, more… ordinary. There were no signs of the calculating, charismatic leader she had known at the Academy. No trace of the ruthless tactician who had nearly conquered the Republic. But despite that, Bastila could not shake the unease that settled in her chest whenever she looked at him.
Who was he now? How much of the man beside her was truly Talan Owens, and how much was something else entirely? Was there anything left of the original Talan, or had the Jedi merely constructed a new version of Revan, rewritten to serve their purposes?
And worse—was there still anything of the Dark Lord buried beneath it all?
She shuddered at the thought.
Talan must have noticed her discomfort.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice unexpectedly kind.
Bastila inwardly cursed herself for being so transparent. She should have been better at keeping her emotions in check.
"Where are we going?" she asked instead, pointedly ignoring his question.
"Like I said, the others are waiting back at the apartment. We've been set up there, trying to figure out how to rescue you."
There it was again. Rescue. The way he kept insisting on that word was beginning to irritate her.
"Ah, yes. The rescue," she said, keeping her tone measured. "If I recall correctly, while you were busy trading insults with Brejik, I managed to free myself and prevent both of us from getting killed."
Talan rolled his eyes. "If I recall correctly, you didn't manage to, what was it—'free yourself'—until after I showed up and put myself in mortal jeopardy."
She crossed her arms. "I'll admit, your clumsy and reckless attempt at playing hero provided the opportunity I needed to gather my strength and break free. So, yes, I suppose I owe you some gratitude for that."
Talan stopped mid-stride and turned to face her. "Listen, princess—"
She narrowed her eyes. "Princess? I am your commanding officer, and you, soldier, will speak to me with the proper respect."
For a brief moment, his green eyes flashed with something sharp—irritation, perhaps even anger. But then, just as quickly, the expression faded, replaced by a mischievous grin.
"All right, commander," he said smoothly. "Let's get you back to our base. I'm sure the rest of your crew is dying to see you again."
There was something about the way he said that—something too casual, too knowing—that made Bastila pause. She studied his expression, searching for any hint of what he was playing at, but he had already turned and resumed walking.
They traveled the rest of the way in silence.
Ten minutes later, they stepped off the elevator leading to the apartment.
Talan's pace quickened. If Bastila hadn't known any better, she might have thought he was actually eager to return. His strides were purposeful, his movements clipped, as if there was something waiting for him on the other side of that door that he was very interested in seeing play out.
They reached the last door at the end of the hallway.
Talan raised his fist and knocked sharply three times.
Zaalbar and Mission aimed their blasters at the door while Carth pressed the button to open it, his own weapon ready in his free hand. The apartment's security system had been damaged, leaving them blind to whoever stood outside. Given the dangers lurking on Taris, they had learned not to take chances.
Ice, however, remained exactly where she was, leaning lazily against the small armchair in the center of the room, arms crossed. She knew very well who it was. Even through the door, she could practically feel the arrogance radiating from the other side.
The door hissed open.
Talan stepped inside first, Bastila right behind him. Mission and Zaalbar lowered their weapons while Carth immediately exhaled in relief.
"Bastila, you're alive!" Carth said, his voice filled with genuine excitement. "Finally, something is going right."
Ice rolled her eyes. That was a matter of opinion.
"Now we can figure out a way to get off this rock," Carth continued.
Bastila's expression shifted instantly. "You mean you don't have a plan to escape?" She folded her arms, staring at him in disbelief. "What exactly have you all been doing this entire time?"
"Trying to find you," Talan shot back, his voice edged with irritation.
"I see," Bastila said, glancing around the room. "Well, now that I'm back in charge of this mission, maybe things will start proceeding more efficiently. And who are these others? I was under the impression there were more survivors."
"We're the only ones left from the Endar Spire," Carth said, the weight of that truth clear in his tone. "These are good people. Without their help, we never would have found you."
"This is Mission and Zaalbar," Talan added, nodding toward them.
Mission offered a small smile, while Zaalbar gave a slow nod, his posture relaxed but watchful.
"And that," Carth said, motioning toward Ice, who hadn't moved or acknowledged their arrival in the slightest. "Well…" He hesitated.
Ice finally shifted, her gaze locking onto Bastila for the first time.
It had been years, but the sight of her sister standing there, acting as if nothing had changed, made something tighten in her chest. She fought the urge to scoff.
"Go on, flyboy," Ice said coolly. "Introduce me. I'd love to hear what you come up with."
Ice and Bastila stood motionless, locked in a silent standoff. Neither spoke for several moments, though the weight between them said enough. Ice's face remained unreadable, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Bastila, on the other hand, stared at her with something between shock and suspicion, her mind clearly racing to catch up.
"You," Bastila finally said.
Ice gave a slow, exaggerated clap. "Incredible. The great Jedi Bastila Shan still remembers she has a sister. I was beginning to think you had wiped that little detail from your memory along with everything else inconvenient to your perfect existence."
Bastila scowled. Talan, watching from the side, finally saw the resemblance between them. Ice was a little taller, but they shared the same steel-gray eyes, both now filled with barely concealed disdain. He wondered who would be angrier if he pointed out that they had the same nose.
"Bastila's expression darkened. "What are you doing here?"
"That's your first question? Not how have you been, or it's good to see you alive after all these years? I guess that would require you to actually care."
"Since when have you cared about anyone but yourself?"
Ice let out a sharp laugh. "That's rich, coming from a Jedi. Tell me, protector of the galaxy, where were you and your Order when the Mandalorians were tearing planets apart? Where was your sense of duty then?"
Bastila squared her shoulders. "We needed time to assess the situation. If we had acted too rashly—"
"Oh, of course," Ice cut in, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Time. Right. That must be a real comfort to the people who lost everything while the Jedi sat in their temples, assessing."
Bastila took a step forward, her voice as sharp as a blade. "And where were you during all of this? Last I heard, you abandoned our family to chase some reckless fantasy on Onderon."
Ice's expression flickered for a split second before she schooled it back into something unreadable. "That's what they told you?"
"They said you ran off. Left them behind. That you only ever helped Father when there was something in it for you."
Ice shook her head, her voice quieter now. "They have an interesting way of remembering things."
Bastila frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means it doesn't matter," Ice said, her usual sharp edge returning. "You were right about one thing—I don't do anything for free. I helped find you because it gets me off this rock. Nothing more."
"And after that?" Bastila asked, her tone flat. "You disappear again?"
Ice gave a half-smile, but there was no humor behind it. "That's the plan. This time, I'll make sure no one ever finds me again."
"Maybe that would be for the best." Bastila's voice was ice-cold now. "You should have stayed in hiding."
"And you should be in a cage," Ice shot back without hesitation.
The tension in the room reached a breaking point.
"Enough!" Talan snapped. His voice cut through the room like a crack of thunder.
Neither sister spoke, but the air between them was heavy with the words left unsaid.
Ice reached for her blaster, and for a brief second, Talan's fingers twitched toward his own weapon. But she didn't draw it—just clipped it back onto her belt before heading for the door.
"Running away again?" Bastila asked without turning to look at her.
Ice didn't stop. "Like you said, it's what I do best."
The door slid shut behind her.
She stood in the hallway, her breathing controlled, but the fire still burned beneath the surface. For a moment, she simply stood there, staring at the dull metal walls, jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
Then she turned and slammed her fist into the nearest wall. A sharp crack filled the corridor, pain shooting through her hand like fire. Something had broken. She barely cared.
A single tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away before it could fall, then turned and disappeared into the shadows of the Upper City.