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| - Night had fallen by the time I knocked gently on the door to the primary bedroom. The two slumbering Starborne Ones within began to rise to full wakefulness as I waited for them to make themselves presentable. Extending my feelings outward, I gently and respectfully brushed the minds of Laera and Silas, identifying myself as Fua T'Ooro and making sure that they were well-rested and able to function, which they seemed to be. For the last eight hours, Iper and I had discussed these latest developments with Eldarch Bellinega. While I had great respect for both of them, it felt as though I had been thrust into a situation well over my head. Iper was thirty years my senior; though we had been partners for over a decade, part of me felt that there was still yet more to learn about her and the Blue in general. I had only once before had occasion to meet the Eldarch, and that had been during my lighting ceremony. Though I have served as a lighter for many years and know my way around, part of me had felt inadequate to the task at hand. Bellinega seemed to know this, however, and she had been most kind to me as we pondered our next move, for which I was grateful. And these new arrivals, they had seemed to be quite amicable despite having only met them a single day prior. Their vessel—a starship, they had called it—had been a truly amazing thing to behold. Though all the buttons, consoles and displays had been utterly indecipherable, they had drawn my eyes about like buhje flies engaged in their twilight dance. When Iper and I had offered our help in the wake of T'Yelc's treachery, they had accepted our aid without question, demonstrating remarkable open-mindedness; not once had either of them questioned our roles as lighters or constables, or whether or not we were with the Youngarch in her plans. They, like Laera and Silas, had seemed to take notice of the prophecy and the effect that it had had on my people. Their physiology, though, was proving to be most difficult to reconcile; the word I had been taught translated into their tongue as "gender." The fact that they, like the furred one who did not glow, were so different biologically was something that had both myself and Iper massaging our scalps in wonderment. These feelings, however, had been forced inward; thankfully, they were at least sufficiently like us that coexistence was not only possible, but probably inevitable. But that was for the matrons and matriarchs to debate, not maidens like Iper and myself. Drawing from the momentary reverie I'd fallen into, I turned toward the other door in time to see the Skywalkers emerging from the other room, having been awakened several minutes previously. “Have you rested comfortably?” I asked hopefully. “Yes, very well, thank you,” Luke replied. “This house is very well-appointed. Is this common for Sa'ari dwellings?” I smiled and nodded, grateful in a sense for the seeming banality of the question. “Yes. We do not like to waste resources rebuilding homes that are perfectly viable, so we instead pass them on to our granddaughters or great granddaughters. This house is probably a good deal older than Iper's great aunt was when she died.” I gestured toward the stairs. “Iper and the Eldarch are waiting for you in the dining room. We have prepared a meal suitable for consumption by your species.” “Thanks,” Ben replied as his stomach gave a huge growl. “I haven't had anything to eat since those plek'kak ribs almost...a whole day ago!” “Aren't you coming?” Luke asked, seeing that I had remained behind as they had begun to descend the staircase. “I will be there shortly,” I replied. “I must also see to Laera and Silas.” Parent and offspring shrugged, then descended the two flights to the main floor. After several minutes more, the two Starborne Ones emerged, nodding gratefully to me as I led them downstairs and into the dining room, which contained an elaborately-carved table capable of seating ten in a set of matching low-backed chairs. Iper and I had dusted the entire main floor and switched on the lights, though we had drawn the curtains tightly over the windows. The table itself had been set for seven, with Bellinega sitting at the head and Iper in the first chair to her right, and the Skywalkers at the second and third seats to her left. I noticed, with slight bemusement that I determinedly kept hidden, that the chairs in which they had sat were slightly too big for them. Roasted lokta bird and lightly-steamed vegetables had been piled onto plates patterned with designs that resembled tuskwood trees, while red brewine had been poured into cut-crystal goblets. The rust-red assassin droid had taken up station in the kitchen, partially-obscured by the food preserver. “We would be honored if you could join us,” Bellinega said, standing as I led Laera and Silas into the room. The younger of the two Skywalkers seemed to be amused about something, but I could only guess at the source. His father also appeared to have noticed this, and he seemed to be sharing in the unintentional humor of it. “Thank you,” Laera said as she and her companion took the two seats next to Iper as I sat in the empty chair between the Eldarch and the Skywalkers. “I apologize for the state of our attire,” she continued apologetically, gesturing to her worn black body-garment. “We left our forest home in something of a hurry.” “We understand,” Bellinega replied. “More suitable clothing should be easily acquired from within the house.” “I hope your accommodations were acceptable,” Iper said tentatively. “The guest room is fairly small, I know, but it seemed more appropriate since it had two smaller beds instead of a single large one.” "The master bedroom was very well-appointed," Silas, the furred one, replied with an appreciative nod. "The bed was particularly welcome after having lived in the forest for so long." “They are very nice, thank you,” Luke added. “Your great aunt had excellent taste in furniture.” “Thank you,” Iper replied, her cheeks flushing with a slightly deeper shade of blue as we exchanged glances. “I did not know her that well, but she was a highly-skilled artisan. Most of what you see in this house was constructed by her own hands and mind.” I pondered the mental image of an elder Sa'ari sitting at a long table with ten sets of tools before her, nine of them moving of their own accord across bits of wood according to how she manipulated the set in her hands. I smiled at the thought, as did Ben Skywalker, an expression that Iper seemed to recognize and appreciate. All conversation ceased as each of us tucked into our meals, the clinking of forks and knives on plates and the gentle rhythms of appreciative chewing and drinking the only sounds in the room. Occasionally the assassin machine called HK-47 would emerge from his kitchen vigil to run a visual sweep of the perimeter, checking for light leaks and monitoring the comm waves for any signs of activity. The android looked, if it were possible, even more out-of-place with a Sa'ari communicator attached to his head, but he seemed to be putting up with it for the time being. “Explanation: It was the Eldarch's idea, Master,” he had said in reply to Laera's quizzical look upon first seeing it. “Commentary: Though she is a meatbag, it was an interesting display of droid-like logic and efficiency.” Bellinega seemed not to notice the slight cheek in his words, or else she hadn't cared. Laera, however, had shot the machine a rather filthy look, and he had retreated back to the kitchen. Once everyone had finished, Iper bade the group to move to the sitting area in the main room. With its protective coverings now removed, the furniture within turned out to be a pair each of two- and three-seat divans, well-cushioned and skinned with plek'kak leather colored in a deep blue that went well with the dark wood. Bellinega took one of the three-seaters, while Iper and I took the other, leaving the Skywalkers, Silas and Laera to pair off on the smaller couches. “Now that we are all rested, fed and watered, we can begin to plan,” the Eldarch began solemnly. “Iper and Fua feel that, for the time being, the best course of action is to lay low. Since I am still unable to trace T'Yelc through our bond as Eldarch and Youngarch, I must agree with their recommendations. Tomorrow, Iper will contact her relation and begin the process of acquiring this house, so that we may use it as headquarters. Since the dwelling can be run off of its own internal power sources, our use of it can remain unnoticed until then, so long as we do not attract attention.” “I had wondered if that was why the curtains had been drawn,” Luke said. “During the Rebellion, we were sometimes forced to take similar measures in order to hide safehouses that had been established on Imperial-controlled worlds.” “You have had to do this before?” I inquired, casting a curious eye toward him. “It was many years ago,” Luke replied. “But yes, I once participated in the organized rebellion against a pan-galactic government that had been established on principles of tyranny and oppression. Though I was never formally part of our Intelligence division, I do have experience in covert operations from that time and later on.” “Do you have any specific recommendations to add, based on your experiences?” Iper asked. “Not at this time. My understanding of your culture is still limited.” “I do have a question for you,” Laera put in, her eyes fixed on the elder Skywalker as she leaned toward him. “It's about that object you mentioned when we first met...” Luke cast a meaningful look at Ben, who reached into his robes and handed him a small, jade-green obelisk that seemed to resonate with the Blue in a manner that I immediately found highly intriguing. “Yes," he said. "I had Ben bring it along. Once I knew we would be heading back into the city, I had him keep it safe in case the Sa'ari authorities managed to penetrate our ship's security system. The technology they can have, but what is in here...” “...could be incredibly dangerous were it to fall into T'Yelc's hands,” Laera finished with a scowl. “Luke, I cannot thank you enough. Whatever we decide on, the first thing I need to do is to access my old friend's message.” “Agreed,” the Jedi Master replied. “What is this thing?” Iper inquired with a slight hint of anxiety, a feeling that I shared. “Is it dangerous to us?” “Not at all,” Luke replied, the ghost of a smile crossing his visage. “This is a holocron, a device used by the Jedi to contain information and patterns of thought so that others can learn from it. Only a Force-user, or someone attuned to what you call 'the Blue' can access it—meaning anyone native to this world. When all is said and done and this crisis is seen through, I along with others like me might be able to teach your people how to construct similar objects.” The elder man reached into the Blue—what he called "the Force"—and touched the small device so that it floated toward Laera. She plucked it gingerly from the air and held it as though it meant the world to her. “Eldarch, I think that I should attend to this right away,” she said deferentially. “Silas is more than qualified to speak on my behalf while I am occupied.” “Of course,” she replied, a hint of awe evident in her voice, a sentiment that was echoed within Iper's mind as well as my own. Attempting to hide her blushing, Laera stood and backed out of the room, making her way back toward the spiral staircase. I resisted the urge to look after her, or to probe the Blue in her wake. — — — “All ships and personnel are accounted for, Revan. We're ready to return to Coruscant.” I barely heard the words as Bastila spoke them; they were unnecessary, but we both knew that. As I looked out the viewport with her standing behind me, I pondered the events of the last several days. The mission had nearly been a disaster, but now we had confirmed that Korriban was no longer under the control of the Sith. At least, not for the time being, for I knew with ironclad certainty that, someday, another generation of dark side adepts would seek out and find this desiccated tombworld. That wasn't what bothered me, however. Malak had been dead for two years now, and the memories of my past had continued to return. Now that the picture was complete, or as near to completeness as any being could hope to attain, it was now achingly clear that I could no longer stay in the Republic. Malak's Sith Empire—my Sith empire—was to have been but a vanguard of the darkness that was to come. The Jedi Council that had given me this chance to atone, to help save the Republic that represented the last, best hope for peaceful civilization in the galaxy, could handle the rebuilding of the Order while the politicians saw to reigniting the galactic economy and revitalizing the worlds that the Mandalorians and I had helped to destroy. What bothered me now, at this moment, was how Bastila would take it. She could never come with me. While I loved her with all my being, such love could be made to serve the darkness that I now had to venture into the unknown to reveal and destroy. She had to remain behind, to lend her abilities and experience to those Jedi who would replace the ones who had fallen, and to tell our story to them so that they would not make my mistakes. You cannot fight darkness with darkness; it can only be brought forth and eliminated by the light of the Force. “Revan, are you alright?” she persisted, reaching up to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You feel...preoccupied.” After a few moments of silence I inhaled deeply, letting the breath escape in a long sigh. Finally I turned to face her, my eyes meeting hers as I wondered how much of my ruminations she had sensed through our bond. As I did so, it became clear that I had run out of time; if I didn't tell her now, then how could I ever do what must be done? “No,” I finally replied, my voice low so that only she could hear. “Bastila, I have come to a realization. When we reach Coruscant, we must then part ways forever.” Shock was evident on her face and in her sense, and she did not trouble herself to hide it. My heart ached along with hers. Back when I had rallied the Jedi under the banner of the Revanchists, and even during my time as a Sith Lord, I had cultivated an enigmatic air, the better to keep others guessing as to my true intentions. Between Bastila and myself, however, we had always been very open about our feelings both toward each other and the rest of the universe. “It's your memories, isn't it?” she asked, the rhetorical question edged in durasteel. “From your time as the Dark Lord and before?” “Yes,” I admitted, taking her hands in mine. “My one great error, the mistake of a million lifetimes, and its echoes will reverberate throughout existence for generations to come.” “What do you mean?” she asked desperately, clinging to some hope that perhaps I had misinterpreted this latest revelation. “I know you did horrible things back then, but you have more than made up for that!” “Have I?” I asked gently. “Has the pitiful amount of goodness that I have done made up for the fact that I chose, upon the surface of Malachor V, to fight darkness with darkness? Such a thing cannot be done, it only begets more death and destruction. What has happened in the last ten years will shape the galaxy's future for thousands more. You know that as well as I do.” “Whatever you have to do, I am with you,” she said, and I could sense that she would not give in easily. “Wherever you must go, I will go with you.” “No, I must do this alone,” I said, knowing as I spoke that this would never be enough for her. “Something is out there, Bastila, something worse than the Mandalorians, worse even than anything that I or Malak ever loosed upon the Republic. It was this darkness that I had hoped to head off when I first utilized the Star Forge. I had wanted to conquer the Republic in order to save it, not rule it, but the Force doesn't work that way and I became corrupted by the power of the dark side. Now that I am redeemed, it is clear that this menace must be challenged by nothing less than a fully-committed Jedi Knight, dedicated to serving the light fully and without hesitation. If I take you with me, if I take anyone or anything that I care for, then my campaign will be doomed before it has even begun.” “Revan, you're being paranoid!” Bastila protested vehemently, her voice a low hiss. “What could possibly make you believe that there's another dark empire out there?” I looked around the bridge of Vice Admiral Kedlis Hetton's flagship, making sure that no one was within earshot. “Canderous once told me something as we traveled aboard the Ebon Hawk to Kashyyyk, in response to my asking him why the Mandalorians had begun their second Crusade. He said that 'the Sith came to us with an offer: to fight a worthy enemy in a battle that would be remembered forever.'” Behind Bastila's gray eyes, I could see her mind putting the pieces together. “Then that means...” “...that there must be another Sith empire out there—perhaps the 'true' Sith empire, the one that we thought vanquished at the end of the Great Hyperspace War. If this is true, then I must find it and do whatever it takes to weaken them, to give the Republic and the Jedi Order time to rebuild and reassert themselves. Canderous seems to have some insight into what went on between this hidden empire and the Mandalorian clans, and he may be able to provide some assistance in this matter.” “You're not going to take him with you?” Bastila asked, horrified. “No, no one goes with me,” I reassured her. “I need everyone to stay where they can do the most good. This means that I need you to stay with the Order, to teach them what we've learned, and to keep our legacy safe. I've almost finished working on a holocron that will help to ensure that the galaxy never forgets us and what we've learned. When it is complete, it will tell you everything you need to know.” “What more must you do?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. Unsure how to ask this, I momentarily cast my attention toward the viewports. The ship had made the jump to lightspeed, the stars around Korriban having been replaced by the mottled purple of hyperspace. “Have you ever known or heard of a Marine officer by the name of Laera Reyolé?” Much to my astonishment, this question caused Bastila's sense to flare with recognition as her eyes widened. “As a matter of fact, I knew her very well,” she said in an awestruck voice. “So did Carth, in fact. She trained as a Jedi between the wars, and it was she who led the platoon that boarded your flagship when...when we sought to capture you. Ibratu'na served on that mission too, along with some of his Marines, when they were still in the Army. Before that, both Carth and I served alongside her during the liberation of Iridonia and the counteroffensive that followed.” Silence fell as I pondered Bastila's words. It seemed logical enough that I hadn't been told everything about that eventful day. It was to be expected that Laera herself wouldn't have wanted the fact of her death and rebirth at my behest to become public knowledge, but I had no idea that she, along with my company commander and some of his troops, had also participated. Unfortunately, this didn't make explaining things any easier. “You say that you 'knew' her. What happened?” Bastila looked momentarily sad, as though she didn't really want to believe what she was about to say. “She...she is gone. After the mission Laera and her companion, a Lieutenant Silas Dan'kre, disappeared as they attempted to make a hyperspace jump Rimward of Ord Mantell. We weren't sure what happened, so a week later Georg Oakes and I returned in a scout ship to look for clues. We found a small amount of debris consistent with a Herald-class shuttle, but not enough to indicate that her escape vessel had been destroyed outright. The Force around the vicinity was clear and oddly peaceful, hardly indicative of death or suffering, which led us to believe that the ship must have succeeded in making lightspeed. Where Laera is, only Laera knows; the official Republic inquiry ended there and we didn't have time to pursue further.” Turning away, I closed my eyes and probed the Force for any sign of the Marine. I was hardly surprised to find nothing immediately discernible, so I instead let myself sink into the currents of the future. Though incredibly unlikely, it was possible that this was a case of a damaged hyperdrive affecting the ship's relativistic shielding—were this true, then my efforts would not have been in vain. Surrendering myself utterly to the Unifying Force, I followed it wherever it would take me until, finally, I hit a bright spot. It wasn't much, but it was all I needed. “She's alive,” I said simply. “I believe you, my love,” Bastila said reassuringly. “And I also believe that your interest in her is not romantic.” I couldn't help but smile and laugh at her remark. At last, she had learned the value of humor in diffusing a potentially unpleasant situation. "Please, tell me more about her..." I asked simply. — — — With the nearly-finished holocron before me, I knelt on the floor of my quarters. With the Force, I activated its recording function and began to speak to the future, one which I knew I would never live to see. “Greetings, Laera Reyolé, I am Revan. If you are listening to this, then you are probably wondering why I did what I did to you after your sacrifice at Onderon. You are also probably wondering how someone so great could have gone so horribly wrong, and how he could possibly justify what he has done. I can understand if you are angry with me; I only ask that you hear me out. The truth is that I am not great. The Force is great but I am only a man, made to appear great through its influence and its aid. Such is the case with all of us, whether we seek to serve the light or to control the dark. “The same is true of you; you are a woman whose gifts have the potential to shape the destinies of uncountable millions. The only reason I can offer you now for what I did was that I wanted you to be able to learn how to use those gifts, and to learn what true service means, both for yourself and for others. I have enormous confidence in you, and know that by the time this reaches you, you will have figured out for yourself what I mean. I have spoken with Bastila Shan regarding your time during the war that I started, and she holds you in high esteem for what you have done for the Republic. “I regret starting that war. I did it for the wrong reasons, at the wrong time, using the wrong tools, and I hope that you can forgive me. Both for that war, and what I had done to you.” I paused for a moment, marshaling my thoughts once again. “After your death during the liberation of Iziz, Malak advocated for your resurrection using Dr. Shak's technology, developed by the Republic in secret prior to Exar Kun's war. After Malak and I embraced the dark side, I told him that you were to be a spy for us, hinting that I might have implanted some sort of monitoring equipment in you that would let me see into your mind. Rest assured that this is not the case; your tech is as sound as that which might have been given to anyone else. Despite this, you're probably wondering how you received the corrupted vision prior to your successful liberation of Iridonia—insofar as that is concerned, all I know is that for a brief moment, the Force connected us both and we each saw the same thing. Not fully understanding it then, I had sent a flotilla of cruisers to reinforce the planet, though of course the real reason was kept from the crews. Knowing what happened there as a result, it is something I am glad of, and hope that you can be as well. “As I record this message, I am on my way to Coruscant after having led a joint effort between the Republic and the Jedi Order to Korriban, in order to ensure that no Sith remain there. You are probably wondering why I fell to the dark side now, which is a fair question. I fell because I made the choice to try and fight darkness with darkness, which you probably know is a very foolish thing to attempt. In the months that followed, I discovered that there was a greater Sith empire out there, possibly the remnants of the empire that was defeated during the Great Hyperspace War, perhaps even that founded by the original Dark Jedi that were exiled after the Hundred Year Darkness. I chose to try and conquer the galaxy in order to prepare it for the coming assault by these hidden Sith, which was why I targeted the worlds I did. I sought to keep the infrastructure intact as much as possible so that when the next war came, we would be prepared and ready to fight. “When Malak betrayed me and took power for himself, he changed tactics for two reasons: firstly, because of his own combative nature; secondly, because I had not told him the full extent of the overall plan or, if I had, he either disregarded it or, in his zeal, forgot entirely. All I can do about that now is take solace in the fact that I was able to stop him from destroying everything. This brings me to my final message to you, an invocation that you hear what I have said and take it to heart. Carry on your noble work. Do what you do best: lead so that others will follow, show your strength in the light and allow it to shine as a beacon to others. I know not where or when you exist, only that you are alive, and that is enough. “Once the fleet returns to Coruscant, I will depart the Republic, venture beyond known space, and seek out the hidden Sith whose empire I, in my own darkness, touched the edges of. I will do everything within my power to destroy this looming threat, fully expecting to die before that task is accomplished. Even if I only manage to delay their efforts, it will have been worth it, for I will leave behind a Republic on the verge of falling apart at the seams. Though I could serve as a rallying figurehead at this crucial juncture, I could not in good conscience ignore this threat when I may be the only one equipped to fight it at this time. As a Marine, I know that you will understand. “Farewell, Laera Reyolé. The Force will be with you, always.” Reaching out again with my mind, I shut off the recorder, then appended my recollection of the earlier conversation with Bastila to the message, along with my private thoughts on it, before sealing it so that only Laera could access it if—no, when—the holocron at last fell into her hands. — — — As the ghostly vision of Revan receded into the obelisk he had crafted, I remained kneeling before the holocron. A fiery sensation in my lungs reminded me that breathing was not only healthy, but also helpful in absorbing new information. Deeply I took in the oxygen-rich air of T'lessia, exhaling it gratefully as I mulled over what this long-dead man—what this great Jedi Knight—had said to me. And, at long last, I finally forgave him, wholly and unconditionally. For the briefest of moments I extended my awareness to the main room, sensing in that short span that things were proceeding well despite my absence. Glancing at the T'lessian clock above the bed, I realized with a start that taking in Revan's message, along with his thoughts, had sucked up well over two hours. I pondered what he had meant by his exhortation to “lead so that others will follow,” and it occurred to me that, at the time of my death, he had probably known me better than I had known myself. This seemed to meld with his assessment of my character, for he had been right in guessing that I would know what he meant by his statements. It was at that point that I realized too that my self-recriminations over the recent Sa'ari war had been foolish and self-indulgent. His mistake had been orders of magnitude greater, yet he had also been able to carry on doing what he felt was right even after learning and remembering who he had been and what he had done before we had captured him. In order to help ensure that T'lessia returned to normal and, if necessary, to help its people to integrate into the wider galaxy, I had to do the same. If finding and confronting Pelenora T'Yelc was what it took, then so be it. As I grasped the holocron and made to stand back up, a feeling of intense shock lashed me like a leather whip across my back. Thousands—no, millions—of voices were crying out in alarm and dismay throughout the Force, but this time I was equipped to handle the mental backlash. Sealing my mind, I quickly descended the staircase, carrying the holocron with me as I made my way back to the main room. “What has happened?” I asked upon arriving, noticing only then that the entertainment center had been opened and the viewscreen was active. On it, a Sa'ari with dark blue skin accented with sea-green markings was presenting a special report in the Sa'ari language. “Oh no...” “What is she saying?” Ben asked Iper; she, Fua and Bellinega were all gazing transfixed at the news presenter. “She's saying that the Eldarch has been kidnapped,” I said, my voice hollow. “The official report from the Tal'adin City Constabulary is accusing 'the Starborne Ones' of staging it in order to hold the government ransom.” The presenter's image was replaced by a shadowy silhouette that vaguely resembled my own profile, and the audio switched to what was supposedly a pre-recorded statement in the native tongue, in my own distorted voice. “If you do not surrender my ship within twenty-six hours,” I translated, “I will kill the Eldarch and then seize my ship anyway. I will then return from the stars with a fleet of war vessels, and if you do not surrender yourselves to my rule, I will bomb your world into dust.”
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