| abstract
| - War. It brought power, riches, death, and pain. War was the ultimate achievement of the galaxy's populace and it had been restructed and perfected over thousands upon thousands of years. In the end of all the talks of peace and justice and coexistance, war had always remained the blemish upon the galaxy. Like a plague it would spread, consuming and destroying until nothing but ashes remained. War was a constant in the universe, and the Jedi Civil War, in its secondy bloody year was no different from tens of thousands of other wars that had been fought in the lifetime of the Galactic Republic. Standing tall on the bridge of his great flagship, Revenge, Darth Revan, fomer Jedi Knight of the Jedi Order, former Supreme Commander and General of the Republic, and ruling Dark Lord of the Sith stared through a mask of red and black, the colors marking the darkness of his soul and the blood he had spilled. The sight of Revan was imposing, but then again everything about the man exuded power. From the heavily muscled body Revan so carefully maintained to the armor he wore, marked him out as a seasoned warrior. Revan was not one to be taken lightly. The Force had made Revan the most powerful and most deadly man in the galaxy and second to none. The man's charisma made him respected and well-loved by those who served under him and that respect of the man only grew when Revan fought. Watching Revan fight was like some beautiful and terrible dance, and the grace and power of the man was almost tangible in the air. "Bring the ship about and divert shielding to our forward sections. The Republic blockade is crumbling and we must pursue," Revan's voice was cold, holding no emotion and the command was said for all ears on the bridge to hear. Revan's voice held authority and snapped like a whip, drawing the attention of all his bridge crew as they complied. Slowly the Revenge turned, pursuing the fleeing Republic vessels as orders were relayed to the rest of the Sith vessels. Former Republic soldiers, now Sith, chased down their former allies and butchered them. The battle had not been one-sided and the hulls of dozens of ships, Sith and Republic alike, spun out of control in the vacuum of space. "Pursuit course laid in, all power to the forward shields. We have incoming Republic fighters and boarding craft," the tactical officer spoke in a business-like voice. The officer was one of Revan's finest, having served him well since the end of the Mandalorian Wars. "Very good Admiral Viperon. Sound the alarm and have the men prepare for boarders," Revan's voice held no waver, no fear. Revan was the rock the Sith stood against, holding them up against the storm that was about to engulf the galaxy. The storms of chaos as the Republic, weakened after so many years of war and destruction, threatened to collapse. Revan had seen this weakness in the Republic and had exploited it, using his military power gained during the Mandalorian Wars to convince others to join his crusade to strengthen the Republic. The fighting between Republic worlds alone would have been devastating enough without any outside threats, but Revan's eyes saw far and his senses told him that he needed the galaxy strong. The galaxy would only be strong if it was made to be strong and Revan had sacrificed his title, his honor, and his very soul to obliterate that weakness. A flickering of dots against the blackness of space and the red-orange sky of the gas giant they were orbiting drew Revan's eyes. "They're getting close, let them get closer and rake them with our defensive batteries," the voice held little in the way of humor and no one smiled at their master's commands. Red-orange blasterfire, nearly invisible against the backdrop of the swirling gas giant slammed into the first wave of fighters, sending machinery and body into space. The fight was over for them quickly, as the vacuum of space forced the life from them and they knew nothing more. Some impacted on the hull of the Revenge and were splattered against the grey hull like insects on a speeder's windscreen, while others merely drifted in space, their final struggles forever etched in their horrified expressions. It was nothing new to one like Revan and he felt nothing. The Sith crew became slightly more frantic, their professionalism slipping as the tone of the alarm changed from warning to threat level. One of the Sith nervously stepped forward, nervously saluting Revan as the Dark Lord of the Sith turned to face him. "What is it?" Revan's voice was flat, toneless, and the shaking of the Sith officer increased dramatically as he replied. "We've been boarded by several heavy assault craft, Milord. We estimate two hundred boarders, including some Jedi, Lord Revan," the officer finished, sweat beading his forehead as he stood perfectly at attention. Revan simply nodded, turning back to the view of the fleeing Republic ships. Something didn't feel right about the battle but then, he really didn't care. Bastila Shan, Padawan of the Jedi Order tried to keep up with the Republic soldiers that were, for lack of a better term, tearing into the Sith. The Sith and Republic soldiers alike were elites and the fighting was becoming more and more primitive as blasters were being discarded for vibroblades. Of two hundred initially involved in the assault, half the number were holding their boarding craft, and a quarter of the whole were dead. Fifteen Jedi had been reduced to seven. Bastila jumped back, shielding her eyes from a flash grenade thrown by a Sith as red-orange blaster fire flew through the air back and forth between the ranks of the Sith defenders and the Republic boarders. "Move it, keep them on the run," a Republic soldier wearing a Lieutenant's rank shouted. Bastila hadn't taken the time to get to know the names of each and every Republic soldier on this mission and this one was no different. Judging by his rank, Bastila assumed he was the ranking non-Jedi officer of the boarding party. Looking over her shoulder at the trail of destruction they had left behind, Bastila's grey eyes turned back to the front, her golden lightsaber blade raising to deflect a stray blaster bolt that had come to close for comfort. The initial Sith response had wiped out nearly thirty of their soldiers. Dark Jedi had been among the defenders and had struck down two of her fellow Jedi before they had secured the area. Pushing deeper into the ship, Bastila was shocked slightly at the Sith tactics. They fought almost like Mandalorians, hitting her group with small shock trooper squads and then breaking off. The tactic was designed to maximize the amount of damage a small, well-armed and well-trained force of soldiers could do to a significantly larger attack force. Needless to say their numbers were suffering because of this. The majority of the Sith defenders were at their battle stations, while even more were trying to get behind them and cut off their escape route. Bastila's heart raced as a grenade rolled past her and a Republic soldier threw himself on it, protecting the Jedi and his comrades with his own grisly death. Two Republic soldiers still died due to the powerful explosion, but a catastrophe was avoided and the soldiers andt the Jedi moved on, each silently mourning the man's death, but having no time to reflect on it as another group of Sith shock troopers appeared from in front of and behind their unit. Bastila's hand raised and the Force swelled around her, sending another deadly grenade back at its owner. The Sith shock in the front was dispersed and the Republic commandos turned their full attention to those in their rear. Twenty blaster rifles opened up and the five man Sith squad was annihilated. Moving forwards to a forty-five degree angle ramp, Bastila saw a Republic soldier pull out his pistol and shoot two of the Sith wounded in the grenade blast in their faceplates. Blinking at the barbaric display, the Padawan was urged forward by the Jedi trailing behind her and none commented on the crime. "We've got a problem!" Revan's full attention turned from the breaking lines of the Republic's forces to the officer that had called for his attention and he peered down onto one of the consoles of his ship's internal security readout. "Well, I could have told you that," Revan muttered, his left hand urging the Sith out of the way as he double checked the readings. Thinking slowly, Revan recalled most of his soldiers to defend the ramp leading to the bridge and turned any available units away from pursuing the Republic strike force to hitting their boarding craft. With no way out, they would be seperated and destroyed quickly, and the problem would be dealt with. Still, something did not feel right and Revan cautioned his soldiers not to take any unecessary risks. "Keep the majority of our forces stationed around the ship's vital systems. We can't rule out sabotage," Revan's voice remained clam, though it was growing apparent that the situation could very quickly get out of hand. Behind Revan, a Republic cruiser's engines were struck and it banked, its nose turning downward at a ninety degree angle as it was pulled down into the red-orange gas giant's gravity well. Revan turned around, raising an eyebrow at the sight. Studying the layout of the fleeing Republic forces, Revan narrowed his eyes, a small frown working its way onto his hidden features. "They're leading us into a trap," the Dark Lord said slowly, his voice never changing from his calm, emotionless tone. For the briefest moment, Revan wished he had Yyp Dracyl in his battle group, but cut off that line of thought. Yyp had been Malak's apprentice and he had given Malak the say on what to do with the young General. Malak had wanted him to be sent back to the Jedi, perhaps to help him or in some vain gesture of saving him from the darkness consuming them. Revan really didn't bother thinking about it too much. It had all resulted in the loss of an extremely competent and capable warrior. Revan's eyes caught movement and he moved to a console on the bridge, flicking a switch. "Malak, you ship is trailing fuel, pull back and get behind the Revenge," Revan ordered, his voice only holding a hint of unease. One good shot could take out Malak's ship and Revan needed Malak. Malak's mechanical voice crackled over the static of the communicator, "Yes, Lord Revan." The voice was clipped, cold and mechanical. Briefly, Revan's mind entertained how much he and Malak sounded alike since the incident between Malak and himself over their policy toward training new Sith students. Then again, Revan simply could not summon the energy to care and he calmly crossed his hands across his back, spreading his legs apart to about a shoulder's width as he watched the battle progress. The battle to Revan's bridge had been hard fought, and the Republic commandos as well as the Jedi strike team that had been hand selected from the best both organizations had to offer were feeling the effects. Twenty Republic commandos and five Jedi stood outside of the sealed door that would take them onto Revan's bridge, into the heart of the beast. All were out of breath, some were injured, and most of the Republic soldiers wore expressions of men and women who knew they were going to die. The one hundred Republic soldiers that had been holding their landing craft had been butchered, the Sith simply sealing off and decompressing the hangar deck before restoring the atmosphere and destroying the Republic landing craft. The only hope the strike force had was to capture Revan, and use him as a hostage and barter their way off the ship. "Everyone catch your breath. We've got one hell of a fight ahead of us," the Lieutenant leading the Republic soldiers stated, his armored helmet gone and only a simple linen cap covering his short military haircut. After waiting for several minutes, the Lieutenant and two other Republic soldiers moved towards the sealed doors, placing explosive charges to breach the locks and gain access to the bridge. "Fire in the hole," was shouted and the Jedi and Republic commandos took cover, a bright flash of white blinding them momentarily before it slowely burned a large hole in the doorway. Immediately, red-orange blaster bolts began streaming towards them and the Jedi took to the front, their lightsabers deflecting the deadly energy back at its owners. From the bridge of his damaged flagship, Darth Malak glared through pale yellow eyes at the Revenge. The crew of the Leviathan were loyal, their loyalty tested at Telos IV. Turning to the admiral of the battle group, Malak gave a not so simple order. "Fire on the Revenge's bridge," the mechanical voice echoed through the bridge of the Leviathan, the bridge crew and the command staff falling silent. Looking confused and showing it clearly on his face, the Admiral of the battle group stepped up to Malak, shakily questioning, "A- are you certain, Lord Malak. Revan would most certainly-" The man's words ceased as a massive pale hand reached out, grasping his head and snapping his head to the side. A pop echoed through the bridge and Malak turned to the next highest ranking member of his battle group commanders. Admiral Saul Karath calmly straightened his uniform, swallowed the lump in his throat and ordered in a voice that brokered no arguments, "The Dark Lord of the Sith gave you a direct order. Carry it out!" Mala crossed his arms over his chest, his yellow eyes glistening as they shined golden against the harsh light of the gas giant below. Slowly, a single tear slid down Malak's cheek, stopping at his metal faceplate and burning against the fresh wound where Dath Revan had so viciously maimed his apprentice. Bastila had struck down a fierce Dark Jedi with surprising ferocity and slipped quickly from an offensive to a defensive stance, one hand moving to center her balance while her blade shifted to point at Darth Revan. Revan hadn't been facing them until that moment and Bastila could see the last survivor of the Republic commandos had tried futilely to stab Revan in the back with a vibroblade. The Lieutenant was chocking slowly and Bastila opened her mouth to order Revan to release the man when the Force echoed of death around her and a sickening cracking noise reached her senses as Revan used his dark powers to crush every bone in the man's body. The Republic Lieutenant crashed lifelessly to the ground, a gurgle escaping him in his death throes as Revan's masked features shifted from Bastila, warily to the three Jedi flanking her. Bastila glared defiantly at the Dark Lord, sensing his unease and stating with more bravery and certainty than she felt, "You cannot win Revan!" A cultured Talravin accent reached Revan's frantic mind and he glanced at the Jedi warily. Something wasn't right, the Force was warning him but he coulddn't sense where the threat was originating from. Adopting a Juyo opening stance, Revan twirled his blade, sliding calmly into his opening stance. A master of the form of Juyo was deadly against more than one opponent and Revan knew it was likely the best form to adopt until he determined where the threat to him was coming from. Revan's internal musings ceased and his eyes widened in realization and a sneer twisted his face. Malak was betraying him. Bastila's gaze flickered momentarily from the deadly blood red blade of Darth Revan to the strange stream of red-orange light that slowly streamed towards the Revenge from the Leviathan The Force let out a warning but before Bastila could do anything and invisible hand singled her out, as if Revan was lashing out at the only foe that could directly challenge him in his final moments and he let out a wordless shout, the Force propelling Bastila backwards until she struck the deck with a painful force. The entire front of the bridge was engulfed in white jets of superheated plasma and Bastila felt searing pain erupt on her skin as molten shrapnel rained down upon her. Using the force to shield herself, Bastila struggled to her feet as the smoke and plasma cleared to see her Jedi companions smoking and mutilated corpses and Revan, seemingly unspoiled by the blast. That Darth Revan remained whole while her Jedi comrades seemed to be burning in their own funeral pyres brought a cold feeling of resentment into Bastila's heart before the Padawan pushed it from her mind. The Padawan shakily made her way across the scorched deck, her lightsaber hilt still in her hand though the blade was inactive. Thumbing her switch, Bastila felt the lightsaber hilt begin to heat up in her hands and tossed it aside, her eyes staring widely at the melted tip of her hilt. Glancing down to make certain Glancing down to make certain she was still in one piece, Bastila silently thanked the Force, and Revan's anger that she was only bruised and suffering superficial wounds when she could have very well been dead. "May the Force take you," the Padawan's voice was a whisper as she looked down on the smoking corpses of her comrades and she nearly screamed in surprise when Revan's form moved. Smoldering holes were visible in the black fabric of Revan's battle robes and Bastila swallowed nervously, her eyes frantically searching for a weapon, any weapon. The Revenge lurched heavily, a groaning sound reverberating alongside its damaged hull and Bastila was thrown to the deck. Pushing herself up, the Padawan slowly, cautiously crawled to Revan's side, seeing that his armor had protected most of his vital areas but had still left much of him exposed to the plasma. In a way, the Padawan felt that she owed Revan for having thrown her across the bridge. While the intent on Revan's part was malicious, it had saved her from the fate of her fellow Jedi and the Padawan laid a small hand on Revan's breastplate, not knowing what to do. Revan moved slightly and Bastila pulled back her hand quickly, though not quickly enough as Revan's iron grasp took hold of her hand, squeezing with bruising force. "Let go..." Bastila urged, having nothing to fight off Revan with and not particularly wanting to strike the man. Revan's grip eased, though did not yield and the Dark Lord's mask turned to the Padawan. There was a flickering in the Force, as if a candle was burning and the wind was threatening to blow it out. Bastila realized rather quickly that it was Revan's life and he was slipping into death. "Forge...Mala-" Whatever Revan was saying, Bastila could not make sense of it and the Padawan felt Revan's grip on her hand slacken as his arm fell to the deck. Revan was unconscious and slowly, his body was shutting down. It was almost as if she could feel his death as her own and Bastila was horrified. Revan's body convulsed slightly as it attempted to take in air, but couldn't and the Padawan, having only seen the more brutal part of war on Revan's ship could not stand by and do nothing. Without thinking, Bastila pulled back Revan's mask and spread his body out on the deck. Tilting Revan's head back, Bastila could see blood staining the inside of Revan's hood before she noticed his face. Blackened veins ran across pale gray skin and Bastila realized that when she moved his head back it was cool to the touch. It was almost like looking down on a days old corpse and the Padawan felt bile rising in her throat. Revan's eyes were open but nothing shined in them, only a sickly yellow pallor rimmed by a red ring of burst blood vessels. A horrible wheeze of air being denied reached Bastila's ears and the Padawan abandoned her disgust of Revan's appearance, forcing his mouth open, and with a deep breath, breathed into Revan's mouth. Moving back, Bastila noticed Revan's armor had very little give and quickly pulled away the straps as the wheezing sound continued. Revan's presence remained but weak, flickering and almost gone and Bastila felt frustrated tears on her face as she finally pulled Revan's breastplate free and began pressing down on Revan's chest. "One, two, three," Bastila counted, pushing down on a certain part of Revan's solid chest and flinching as she heard a rib crack under the pressure. A cough tore through Revan's throat and Bastila nearly fell back in startled disbelief. Licking her lips nervously, Bastila tasted blood and immediately spat it out, knowing it to be Revan's and not hers. Revan's eyes no longer had any color but white and Bastila felt her chest ache. This was wrong, she couldn't just sit there and let another human being, regardless of whom, die in such a way. The Dark Lord's grey skin began turning red and then purple and Bastila moved forward again, pinching Revan's nose closed and allowing the Dark Lord to borrow her breath. Still it was not enough, and Revan's body, seperated from his mind, struggled to do the simple task of breathing. "I cannot...I will not accept this," Bastila ignored the moisture on her face and her shaken nerves. Even the noise of explosions on the Revenge's hull did not interrupt her amazing show of compassion for a man who would have killed her without a second thought. Trying a new approach, Bastila reached out with the Force, tearing into Revan's flickering presence and tying it with her own life force. She could not live with allowing someone to die in such a horrible way and she bravely made her choice, forcing her own life essence into Revan's damaged and dying body. As if fate were against her, Bastila felt a block against her attempts. Something within Revan was resisting the intrusion. She needed to convince it, convince him that she was trying to help him. Operning her mind and fully releasing all of her neural blocks, Bastila promptly passed out on top of Revan. Exhaustion tore at her and her muscles ached. A pressure was building on her chest, and the Padawan let out a cry, opening her mouth and pushing herself to her knees. Revan was breathing on his own when she looked down on him and she thanked the Force the thought never occuring to her that she simply could have killed him to end his suffering. The Padawan had no ulterior motives, no knowledge of Revan had been before he had become the Dark Lord of the Sith. They had not been friends or lovers or even casual acquaintances. It made the Padawan's actions to save the Dark Lord's life all the more meaningful and deep within the mind of Darth Revan, something stirred to life and Darth Revan's unconscious felt the bond, felt the compassion of the young woman who had saved him and recoiled as if burnt.
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