Chapter Text
Bastila stared down at the city world of Coruscant and the bruised, battered fleet that defended her. There were perhaps a hundred ships and she doubted one in four was fully intact and staffed. Five months had passed since she swore her allegiance to Revan, defecting from the Jedi and the Republic to his Empire. With silent efficiency, they had uprooted nearly all of the malignant Sith elements within Imperial space. There were still those who opposed him, but they were few and what power they had was their own strength in the Force, a mere shadow compared to Revan’s power. Strict and efficient reforms had transformed the Dark Jedi from the sniveling, cruel shadows of the Sith they had been into a vaguely respectable organization, as they also laid the groundwork for the final Order of Force-sensitives—those who would use both the Light and the Dark to uphold balance. The adoption of the Ancient Jedi Code amused her, though she suspected Revan had picked it in part to impress her.
It is by his doing that everyone calls me Empress now, she reminded herself. And more so, I don’t regret joining him or fighting to end the Republic.
“Strange, isn’t ma’am.” Bastila glanced left at Endro Tros. Of the three commandos that had defected with her, only the Duros remained. The two women, twins Em and Kat Ritchens, had fallen killing a band of Jedi in her defense during the Battle of Talravin only two weeks ago. She had personally led the battle to conquer her homeworld after the Republic was driven further towards Coruscant, and she even took the time to track down and speak with her parents. While neither approved of her defection, they had not turned her away and were willing to listen to her justification. Whether they still loved her or not, she doubted she would ever see them again.
“That we return to Coruscant not as Heroes of the Republic but instead to destroy it?” Bastila ruminated. Endro nodded and she gave him a faint smile. “Yes, it is. I doubt the Jedi Council will be pleased to see me after what I have done.”
The bridge holoprojector activated before Endro could respond. Bastila turned and approached the blue shaded figure of Revan. She kneeled, head bowed, and said, “What is thy bidding, master?”
“Stand, my dear apprentice. We are both too public for you to be on your knees.” She stood, face flushed. Bastila knew under his mask, Revan had rolled his eyes even as he flirted and snarked with her. “Are your preparations for the landings complete? I don’t want you taxing your battle meditation until we have boots on Coruscant.”
“They are, master. And as you requested, I will remain at the primary LZ in Galactic City, though I must ask that you don’t kill Atris, should you engage the Council and they decide to fight you as Vrook did. I wish to confront her myself.” She paused, glancing to the transparisteel behind her and added, “I suspect you already know this, but Admiral Dodonna has brought what remains of the Republic Fleet within the Orbital Security Grid. I trust that HK will have it down soon?”
“He will,” Revan said. “Leave the Admiral to me. Hopefully she will have the sense to surrender after I disable her entire fleet. While I doubt she will, I would love to find a way to convince her to instruct at the Naval Academy I have planned. A shame she is so blindly loyal to the Republic.” He paused, looking away to another conversation. She waited for a while as he dealt with another issue before returning to her with, “A matter you need not worry about. Though, I must say I am still impressed you are the only person who has ever stopped one of HK’s assassinations.”
“Yes, well, he still wants revenge for that. At least he has stopped calling me meatbag during reports.”
“He does not want revenge for that incident,” Revan said, though there was a hint of doubt in his voice. “Either way, once the Republic is no more, I’ll modify his programming to call you Mistress. As funny as it was when he called Malak ‘meatbag,’ I don’t like the fact he has switched to calling you that.”
“Mistress?” Bastila smiled fondly. “Is my being your apprentice not enough for you? I no longer object to becoming your consort and you have all but outright proposed to me, but there are rumors amongst the Admiralty of discord in some sectors over how our relationship is perceived. Too many still have vivid memories of me leading the Republic against you.”
“It has taken Imperial Intelligence time to change opinion on you. Only five months ago you were the Republic poster girl, the bane of my Empire. Their Battle Maiden.”
Bastila scoffed. “I’m still the Battle Maiden, Revan. Only now I fight for your Empire, not against it.”
“Our Empire, my dear apprentice. Do remember that.”
She nodded. “I will remember, master, and leave you to the daily busy work of ruling our empire while I am waited upon hand and foot.”
“You deserve nothing less,” Revan said with a small, flourishing bow before fading. She knew he believed those words without a doubt.
Bastila looked around the bridge of her new flagship, the Talravin Princess. She still didn’t understand how Revan had gotten the ship renamed that, though she knew it was in line with his absurd sense of humor. The ship’s captain, Janna Fel, had been polite and almost friendly when she first came aboard, though with an edge of uncertainty. The crew around her was busy, preparing for the coming assault, and it was tempting to reach out with the Force and feel their minds.
“Nervous, Empress?” Captain Fel asked, interrupting Bastila’s ruminations.
“Somewhat, but relieved too,” Bastila admitted. I just I can let the title pass for now. “Today is bittersweet for me. Coruscant was the last planet I was on before joining Revan. To be here with him today to conquer this world is something I never expected. If you had told me then this would come to pass, I would have run you through with my saber.”
“We’re glad to have you on our side and no longer running us through,” Captain Fel said, serious and joking as she was like to do when slightly nervous. “This ship was there at Iridonia when you smashed through our blockade, landed, and killed Malak. When I heard you switched sides, I put in a request to have you aboard. Lord Revan was quick to accept, though I did try and object to the change of name.”
Bastila frowned. “Why did you wish me aboard, Captain?”
“We were the only Imperial ship to jump away. Just feeling your influence, even if it was hindering us, was something else, if I say so. I wanted to have that power close at hand. I know some of the crew wasn’t pleased about the assignment, but they understood my reasoning. And you have done much to change minds.”
It was hard at times to command with the knowledge those below her in the chain of command had love ones she was, in some manner, responsible for killing. From time to time, she wondered whether Revan had qualms about fighting those who had served him during the Mandalorian Wars. Yet Bastila had never found it within herself to ask.
“I’m proud to serve with all of you.” Bastila wanted to say more, but the holoprojector activated once more.
“Something unexpected has occurred, Bastila,” Revan said. She approached, hands behind her back.
“Unexpected good or unexpected bad?”
“Good, I hope. I just received word from the Chancellor. The Republic is offering Terms of Surrender.”
Surrender? She hadn’t expected that.
“Does that include the Jedi?” she asked, voice soft and wavering.
Revan shrugged. “I have not been told whether they are included in said terms. I doubt they will, given how vocal some of the masters are about decrying us as Sith. I am sending a contingent to the Temple as we speak to negotiate with the High Council. Jaq should be able to speak with them on our behalf. Assuming they’re willing, which I won’t be holding out any hopes for. HK has received the order to put his mission on hold. He’s displeased with the order, especially since he just infiltrated the Grid Controls Facility.”
“I understand. Do you wish for me to be there when they present the terms?”
Revan paused, a hand rubbing his mask. “No. Best you stay on your ship. You are probably the most hated person among the Senate. I will send more details once I have them. Until we have received a cease fire or I accept their terms, do continue preparing as originally planned.”
“Understood, master.”
Revan nodded and disappeared.
“Does that mean we’ve won?” Captain Fel asked, hopeful. Bastila could sense just how many on the bridge wished for the war to end. She wondered if any had a clue another war was on the horizon, whether it would be tomorrow or in three hundred years. I cannot shatter this brief hope. Not now, not yet.
“I believe so. As long as the Republic isn’t greedy with their terms or we’re dragged into prolonged negotiations, then it will be. I cannot say what the Jedi will do, but I hope they will be willing to end hostilities as well.”
“You don’t wish to destroy them,” Captain Fel said with an oddly knowing tone.
“I never did. I may no longer be a Jedi, but I won’t damn every member to death or exile just because of the Council’s crimes. Revan and I have long discussed and argued over what shall be done about them for some time.”
Three standard hours passed with Bastila waiting for word. Whether battle or peace, she felt ready for whatever came. When the holoprojector came alive once more, she could feel Revan’s emotions. They were almost intoxicating, as if they were hers, and she beamed at him.
“We truly have peace then, master?”
“We do. I have accepted the Republic’s surrender, which was unconditional. What lasted over fifteen thousand years is no more. Every world remaining to the Republic is to be assimilated into our Empire by the end of this month. Some even offered their homeworlds as candidates for the new Imperial Capital. Former Senator Vallin Organa was almost heavy handed offering Alderaan. Ironic, given he resigned from his post as Senator when the Chancellor announced offering the terms.”
Bastila nodded. Alderaan was a beautiful, cultured world by every standard and would make a much better candidate for an Imperial world compared to the industrial city planet that was Coruscant. The actions of this Vallin Organa were odd, but she hoped it was for the best. We can always speak with him when the time comes. “What of the Jedi? Are they included in the terms?”
Revan sighed, a disturbingly disappointed sound. “The High Council continues to declare us Sith, though from what Jaq has reported, there is a growing divide within the Order at large and there are even those on the Council who would be willing to speak with us. It appears the propaganda holos we released of you have swayed minds even in the Temple.”
Bastila nodded. In the weeks following her defection, she had sat down with Imperial Intelligence and recorded several holovids to be released onto the HoloNet and spread through both Imperial and Republic space. In one, she had spoken about why she had defected, describing the internal conflict she had and the potential threat that drove Revan to turn against both the Republic and the Jedi, relating that experience to her own. In another, she discussed the dismantling of the Sith elements within the Empire. There was a related holo released shortly after due to interest and a clamor for evidence, showing her and Revan in combat against what were being called the Triumvirate. While Darth Traya had been able to flee—she thought it was due to the fact she had been Revan’s teacher as Jedi—Sion and Nihilus were both destroyed, one sliced to chars and the other banished to chaos. A third then discussed the modifications made to their Dark Jedi program—including the introduction of select Jedi teachings—to ensure they didn’t fall too deeply into the Dark Side. There was even one done live in which she took questions from randomized citizens across the Empire. She had become so flustered by the more personal questions she had then end it prematurely.
It was also the most popular holovid of her. She hated it.
“What of Masters Sunrider? I never knew Vima that well, but Grand Master Nomi was a fine mentor and alive when I departed to face you, master.”
“I will instruct Jaq to reach out to them, though I am uncertain how successful it will be. At present, I am preparing to declare a Jedi Zone on Coruscant, surrounding their Temple and giving them access to airspace and orbital transport codes so they may come and go. Perhaps the Force will continue to be on our side and they will agree to the reforms we have prepared for them.”
“What of the plans for Tython and Ossus?”
“Ossus will wait until the Telos Reconstruction Project begins to see results,” Revan said. “Administrator Onasi, by all reports, has been throwing himself into the work and striving to revive his homeworld. From what I have heard from the Regional Governor, having his son with him has ensured his compliance with Imperial forces.”
Bastila smiled, even if there was a little bit of uncertainty within over Revan’s phrasing. She had felt dirty speaking with Carth in the days following the defection. He had been furious, calling her a traitor along with many other terrible and horrendous names. She didn’t blame him for his words, yet when it was revealed his son lived and would be rescued from the Sith Academy when Revan had it purged, he began to soften towards her and even spoke about topics other than her defection. Placing him in charge of the Reconstruction had been the kyber crystal to end his resistance to working with them and he finally relented, but only after Admiral Saul Karath was tried for war crimes.
“You didn’t answer my question on Tython, master.”
“That will be for the Jedi to decide. The fact that only you possess the secret of where it is could sway them enough to favor our cause. I am still surprised that Nomi never asked for the coordinates, but she was always different from the rest.” He paused, considering something she hadn’t, and then continued. “I suspect a Republic insurgency will establish itself in conjunction with the Dantooine Enclave, since that Campaign has drawn back and there are several ships that slipped away from the Corellian docks that remain unaccounted for. If evidence emerges to suggest its true, I shall send you to handle it.”
“I understand, master.” She paused, nibbling at her lower lip, and then confessed, “I have dearly missed Dantooine. I hope we can come to peace with the Jedi, so that we may return to that world and walk the surface once more. There is a place on the high plains I think you would like, Revan.”
“And here I thought you were rejecting my advances, dear apprentice. If all I knew it took was a jaunt about Dantooine to draw such romantic dreams from you, I would’ve had it conquered weeks ago.”
Bastila shook her head, faintly blushing. “You are utterly incorrigible, master.”
“Why, dear Bastila, that is one of the nicest things you’ve said to me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Keep this up and I may…forget what I like most about you.”
Before Revan responded, another message caught his attention and he turned away from their conversation. A couple minutes passed before he turned back and she could feel his elation pumping through her own veins.
“The Jedi Council has requested we meet with them to discuss their future. And yes, that does include you, Bastila. I will be coming to retrieve you.”
The Temple was the same as it always was. Bastila felt nervous, seeing it draw closer with every second. The Council are going to attack us, her worst fears told her. Whatever peace we have made with the Republic will be torn to pieces before it can settle. Part of her wanted to throw herself out of the shuttle and commandeer some poor alien’s speeder. The other part of her wished that she didn’t encounter the two Temple Guards that had guided her from her chambers to the shuttle that took her to that fateful mission. She didn’t want to admit to herself how worried she was about what they would think of her. What they would think of her choice to willingly join Revan.
Perhaps the Jedi will think that he forcibly turned me and that I can be redeemed, she thought, watching the looming white structure grow closer and closer. She could make out the separate towers, though her grey eyes could only focus on the tallest at the complex’s center. It was reminded her of a vulture watching over a slowly dying kath hound. And what will the Council say? Will they modify my memories? Strip me of the Force? Exile me, like they did to Meetra and Arren and a dozen others close to Revan throughout his time as a Jedi?
Whatever fate awaited them, it was fast approaching. That was the only certainty she could hold onto as a shuttle hangar opened.
“Be mindful of your feelings, apprentice,” Revan said. He stood, grabbing onto one of the handles mounted to the interior ceiling. “The Council will tear you asunder if you give them even a sliver to work with.”
Bastila nodded, drawing in a deep, calming breath. She didn’t suppress her emotions, as she would’ve as a Jedi. Instead, she found and released those that would endanger whatever negotiations they would have with the Council and held tightly to the emotions that would provide her with strength, certainty, and clarity to handle whatever was to come.
The minutes passed slowly with only the rumble of their shuttle and Coruscanti traffic. Neither felt the urge to speak, to discuss strategy for handling the Council. Bastila knew Revan would get them through intact. It would be rough at times, she suspected, but they would be fine. The Council could say whatever they wish, but they were not to be punished as if they were a couple of Padawans caught in the back of the Archive, engaging in acts unbefitting of a Jedi. They were independent of the Council—she was free of them—and thus the Council could only attack or relent.
And then they landed. The door opened with a hiss, steps sliding into place as it descended to touch the hangar floor. They stood and disembarked, a Dark Jedi leading, followed by Endro with his rifle, Bastila, one of Revan’s guard, the man himself, his other guard, and a final Dark Jedi.
Jaq and the rest of the initial negotiation team waited for them, surrounded by ten of the Temple Guard in their white and gold armor, faces covered with masks. Their saberstaffs were ignited, yellow blades like hers humming. Bastila briefly reached out and felt them in the Force. They aren’t here, she thought with relief. I won’t have to see and know their disappointment.
“You will hand over your weapons while you are within the Temple,” said a middle aged Jedi Master, unmasked and dressed in brown robes with a few pieces of white armor added for consistency. There were few wrinkles on his face, but each was pronounce.
“Kallus. I was curious which member of the Council would come to greet us, though I hadn’t realized they accepted subpar duelists these days. What of our guards?” Revan asked. “Do they need to do so too or just my apprentice and I?”
The Jedi Master’s lips pursed at the word apprentice, a disgusted look of condemnation. Bastila knew several pairs of eyes flickered to her upon that word. She wondered just how raw the pain her betrayal was within the Temple. Did the Masters already use her as a horror story to tell the younglings so they wouldn’t fall to the dark side? Or perhaps only to encourage loyalty to the Council?
“Don’t give your enemy a chance to deceive you,” the masters must already be saying, “or you’ll end up like Bastila Shan. She was a Knight, just like Revan. And like Revan, she fell all the same.”
“The Duros can keep his rifle,” Kallus relented. His tone was almost insulting, as if that guard was the least threatening. “But only him.”
“Acceptable, even if I don’t like it,” Revan said. He removed the two lightsabers from his belt and handed them to one of the Temple Guard. The two Dark Jedi and Revan’s personal guards followed his example, removing their belted weapons. Bastila drew her saberstaff from her back and handed it over the same way her first lightsaber was returned to her by Master Zhar upon testing it.
At least they haven’t ignited it. I am almost curious how they would react if they saw that I have not replaced the crystals within.
“Come along, Sith,” Kallus sneered. She bit back a protest at the term.
The Temple Guard formed around the enlarged Imperial party, Revan and Bastila at the center. Endro was right behind them, split down the middle to guard both as the other four formed about at cardinal directions. They made their way through the complex, using service corridors and bland back halls to avoid the already thinning numbers of Jedi on Coruscant. After several minutes, they stopped near a series of large guest chambers.
“Separate the two Sith and the spy,” Kallus said. “The rest put into chambers.”
“What of my guard?” Bastila asked, directly gesturing to Endro. “I would like him to remain with us if we are to be questioned by the Council. You have already allowed him to hold onto his weapon.”
Kallus glared. “Why? To help you spread your foul lies?”
Bastila scowled. “Because I do not trust them, Master Jedi.” The last two words came out as a snarl and she could feel the Dark Side well up within her. Revan set a hand on her shoulder.
“Not here, apprentice. Be mindful of you feelings.”
“Yes, master. Emotion, yet peace.”
“There is strength in your passions, but do not let them control you.” Revan paused before adding, “Though I would not mind if you use them to control me. Best not in front of the Jedi though.”
Kallus’ face had, during their brief conversation, turned an odd ruddy color. Bastila briefly wondered if he would explode into shouting or just explode. What little he heard of their new, evolving philosophy was heresy to Jedi and Sith alike. A brief, fading through passed as she wondered how the Master would react if he were to know the origins of the words she had spoken. If anything, she could only hope it would make Grand Master Sunrider willing to hear them out in full.
“Is there something you wish to say, Kallus?” Revan asked. Bastila glanced over at the masked form of her master. “Your face is a rather fascinating shade. Tell me, apprentice. What color would you call that?”
She frowned, staring at the increasingly frustrated and enraged Jedi Master and then an old memory suddenly popped up. One from before she was a Jedi, refreshed by recent events. “I wish I could have had more time on Talravin. Thousands of years ago, my people built our homes and businesses using bricks the same color as Kallus’ face. There is certainly a specific term for it, though I did think it was rather…ruddy at first.”
Revan’s snort was distorted through the vocalizer. “Ruddy. That was the word I was looking for. A shame Vrook is no longer with us, for he could turn that shade in a heartbeat. Or at least I could make him so.”
“You could do many things to him, master.”
“I did kill him. A shame you got Master Tarras—”
“ENOUGH!” Kallus bellowed. Everyone, including his men, jumped at the shout. “You can bring your kriffing guard with you, traitor. Now come along!”
Five minutes later, a party of twelve entered the meeting chambers of the Jedi High Council high above the Temple. Ten of the twelve seats were filled at present. Master Kallus and seven of the Temple Guard surrounded Revan, Bastila, Endro, and Jaq as they entered. The Master moved to the right, slipping into an empty seat between the redheaded Vima Sunrider and the red twi’lek Zhar Lestin as the guards spread out to cover the only way in or out.
The Imperial party moved into the chamber’s center and turned to face the Grand Master.
“What fate do you have planned for us, Revan?” asked Nomi Sunrider. Beyond the steaks of white and grey in her long red hair, one would be pressed to remember she was nearing her sixtieth birthday. “Have you come to kill us yourself?”
“Peace, reform, and rebuilding,” Revan said. Bastila glanced at her master, curious how he was going to spin the totality of his plan. “The Jedi Order does not need to be destroyed, though you are not ready for what comes from beyond. Maybe in three hundred years you would be, though only with proper warning.”
“Are we seriously bothering to listen to this monster?” Atris asked with venom. “I say we eliminate them now so the Republic can—”
“Have you not heard then?” Revan asked. “The Republic is dissolved. All of its remaining worlds are part of my Empire now. There will probably be an Imperial Senate to provide guidance and for the addressing of grievances, though I doubt any of the current senators will get the opportunity to be a member.”
Nomi sighed. “We are not here to discuss the matters of the Republic or your Empire, Revan. We have politely asked you to meet with us so we can learn what you have planned for our Order. Your…ambassador has been unwilling to give specifics.”
“His mind is foul, filled with all manners of perversions,” stated Kavar. Bastila knew little about the human Master beyond his time as an informal teacher to Meetra Surik before the Mandalorian Wars. It was said he was more suited towards instructing in lightsaber technique than anything relating to the mysteries of the Force, which she believed seeing how he filled his robes and chair. “I would have thought you’d send someone decent to speak with us, Revan.”
Revan turned to Jaq. “I have wondered about that little trick I taught you. Do you ever turn it off?”
The man smirked. “Not even when I play pure pazaak.”
“Nar Shaddaa rules aren’t ‘pure pazaak,’” Bastila cut in, frowning.
“That’s rich coming from you, Empress. Though it explains why you always insist we play by Republic Senate rules.”
“Imperial Senate, Jaq, or perhaps we’ll call it Imperial Court rules,” she reminded him, holding back a tut. “The Republic is no more.”
“So that means you’ll continue to che—”
“Do I need to silence you two?” Revan interrupted. They shook their heads and he turned to Nomi. “I should apologize for my apprentice and one of my finest men wasting your time discussing pazaak. It is the game of choice through much of the galaxy.”
Atris grumbled, “As you should,” before being hushed by Nomi.
The other empty seat was suddenly filled by the holographic image of Master Vandar. “Excuse my absence. There was an issue here at the Enclave that needed handling. Have I missed anything?”
“Nothing serious,” said Master Zez-Kai Ell. “Revan was about to begin explaining his plan for us.”
“Good,” Vandar said, turning to Revan. “I assume you do not plan to wipe us out, yes?”
“That is correct. I was ready to explain my ideas and plans when Master Kavar decided to criticize my choice in ambassador. Honestly, I had expected a protest from Atris or Lonna Vash over his choice in technique.”
“I can also play pazaak in my mind to keep Jedi out and unaware,” Jaq added, shrugging.
“Before we speak of the main issue at hand,” Kallus interjected, “we should address a matter I overheard before bringing them here.” His focus fell solely upon Bastila. “Did you or did you not kill Master Tarras, Battlemaster of the Jedi Order?”
“I did,” she said without hesitation. Bastila had felt relief in coming to terms with what she had done. There were gasps and grumbles around the chamber. In for a gizka, in for a rancor. “While he was dueling Revan, I took advantage of his trust in me and stabbed him in the back. He died quickly and with little pain beyond that of betrayal.”
“Why would you do that?” asked Lonna Vash, frowning. The expression highlighted the wrinkles upon her face.
“Revan revealed information about himself and the origins of the Jedi Civil War. He was willing to reveal his motivations for turning against the Order and I questioned him, wishing to understand how one of our greatest members was so able to turn. Yet Master Tarras interrupted our conversation and attempted to kill Revan.” She paused, glancing at several masters. Atris and Kavar seemed disappointed, while Zhar and Vandar were frowning. “I then made my choice and sided with Revan.”
“You do not appear to have fallen to the Dark Side,” Vima said, watching Bastila closely. “Has Revan taught you anything of being a Sith?”
“Other than how to kill them? No. I have slain my fair share now, including some the Order was unaware of.”
That startled the Council—Did they think the holovids of me to be false or were they so convinced by the lies of Vrook and Atris that they believed Revan had truly fallen?—and Bastila hoped it irrevocably destroyed their false opinions of both her and Revan. She had grown tired of being thought of as a Sith, and while she wasn’t a Jedi in full, she knew she remained on the Light Side of the spectrum of the Force.
“So if you and Revan are not Sith, then what are you?” asked Vandar.
Bastila glanced at Revan. He nodded, so she proceeded and said, “We are somewhere between Gray and Dark Jedi. Balancing both the Light and the Dark Side is difficult, but rewarding.”
“Balance? Such as in the Prophecy of the Chosen One?” Zez-Kai asked.
Revan crossed his arms and snorted. “The Sith have a similar prophecy. I would prefer to stay away from the foolish superstitions of prophecy. Any Jedi with the proper training, oversight, and a dash of tenacity can balance the Force within themselves.”
“Superstitions?” Zez-Kai nearly stood from his chair in outrage, but slumped after receiving a fierce glare from Nomi.
“Would you insist we all learn these methods or will you leave us to teach our younglings as we have?” Her eyes bored into the visor of Revan’s helmet and Bastila was certain that if the Grand Master could, she would rip the thing off his head and chuck it out a window.
“I had a separate idea for the younglings and their crèches. Not every child is suited to becoming a Jedi. You only have to look at the two of us standing here.”
Nomi only frowned, a surprisingly ponderous expression for one so negative. Bastila wondered if her former teacher had figured out their idea.
“Sounds to me that you would poach younglings and leave us with the weakest,” Atris accused. Kallus and Zez-Kai nodded while Kavar and Vash looked potentially swayed.
“It sounds to me that you would have both our younglings and yours in joint crèches, and once they were ready to be apprenticed to masters, separated into our different Orders based on what, temperament?” Zhar Lestin suggested, puzzling out the truth even if he wasn’t aware.
Bastila smiled. “Impressive, Master Zhar. Unlike Revan, I had thought one of the Council would figure it out, though you did so faster than even I expected.”
“An interesting idea,” Vandar admitted, “but what is to stop one Order from dominating where those younglings end up? If you are as serious about balance as you seem to be, wouldn’t you want equal numbers?”
“Balance isn’t as simple as a headcount, Vandar,” Revan answered. “There are many factors that will play into balancing Light and Dark. Personally, I am much more concerned with ensuring nobody falls as Malak did. And yes, I will admit that my old friend fell to the Dark Side and became a Sith in truth. There is a clear difference between accepting the Dark Side as a source of power and letting it consume oneself until all one is left with is pain, suffering, and hatred.”
“I will take your word on that matter,” Vandar acknowledged.
Atris snorted. “I have enough experience with Sith holocrons to know you’re feeding us nerf shite, Revan. The Dark Side only corrupts.”
“Maybe you are the one who has been corrupted,” Bastila suggested with a glare. “You sound more like a Sith than either of us who’ve been accused as being Sith.”
“You would dare!” Atris shouted, rising from her chair. She drew her lightsaber and ignited it, azure blade humming with fierce promise. Before the historian could charge, Endro raised his rifle and aimed it right between Atris’ eyes.
“I’d suggest you step back.” The Duros was calm, as if the only outcome of them clashing was Atris dead on the floor of the Council chambers. She bit back a snarl and sat back down, glaring a promise to violently end the soldier.
“I doubt we will get anything else productive done today,” Nomi said, sighing. She shot Atris a glare before turning back to their guests. “We will reconvene tomorrow. Revan, if you could send a full report of your plans for the Jedi to me today, I would appreciate it. Having a sense of what you’re thinking should make our negotiations end sooner.”
“I will send it as soon as I can, Grand Master,” Revan said, turning away. “Jaq, please remain in the Temple until my return. Bastila, come along. We should go speak with the former Chancellor and whichever former Senators he thinks necessary.”
Bastila followed Revan as they departed their meeting with the now former Chancellor Mos Illtern and select members of the dissolved Senate. “You seem sold on Alderaan as our Imperial world. An excellent choice.”
“It is better than Coruscant,” Revan admitted. He turned to look towards the Jedi Temple, which they couldn’t see from their location within the Senate Building. “Between this place and the Temple, any good memories I may have of this world have been tarnished. Best to start fresh.”
“It doesn’t hurt that Alderaan is a beautiful and cultured world compared to, well…” Bastila let the thought fade away, regardless of whether Revan would take it back up.
“And yet, there is a reason the Republic has been ruled from Coruscant for over fifteen thousand years, dear apprentice. Say what we wish, but they held out much longer than the volatile system of governance should’ve allowed for.”
“You hold the Senate in disregard that much?”
Revan paused, gathering his thoughts. “Before our conquest, it was a corrupt and stagnant beast in the best of times, more interested in lining the pockets of its members than serving the interests of its people.” He turned to her and added, “I am of a mind to not even establish an Imperial Senate, regardless of promises made with the fallen Republic government. I do not wish to see their corruption persist.”
“They won’t like it,” Bastila warned. “I read through the treaty while we waited upon the Jedi to make their decision on whether to speak with us and I saw that while there was no requirement for an Imperial Senate, they were heavily insistent upon one being established.”
Revan snorted through his vocalizer. “They did so on the assumption I wouldn’t clear house, Bastila. A foolish notion.”
She nodded. They continued along, following the wide sweeping halls of the now old Senate Building until they reached one of several hundred landing pads. One of the dark shuttles of the Empire waited there, an honor guard at the base of the ramp. They boarded, acknowledging the reverent comments of “Emperor” and “Empress” as they passed the honor guard commander, dressed in red with a Mandalorian-inspired helmet, emulating Revan’s famous iconography. Bastila felt the garb to be too close to Jedi and Sith designs for her liking, but Revan saw no reason in changing the look.
The trip back to the fleet was quick and Bastila felt a pang of loss when she was dropped off aboard the Talravin Princess. Captain Fel was there in the hangar waiting, frowning as Bastila disembarked alone. The shuttle was quick to depart for Revan’s own flagship.
“Endro is a…guest of the Jedi Order,” Bastila said as they departed the hangar. “They have yet to accept the fall of the Republic, but they are not challenging us as they did during the recent fighting. The holos have been calling it the Jedi Civil War, now that everything is over.”
“Is that really what they’re calling the war?” Fel asked, scowling. “Few of those who fought in the war are Jedi. And the Emperor has not been a Jedi in some time.”
Bastila found herself shrugging. “Revan never denied the name, though, even if Malak and his Sith followers despised it—and him—before their end. Given what Revan and I shall form is technically heretical to the traditions of the Jedi Order I would say that the term is faintly accurate.”
“If you say so, ma’am.”
Bastila sighed. “I cannot believe I’m saying this, but I’d prefer you call me ‘Empress’ over ‘ma’am’.”
“Understood, Empress.” Captain Fel then smiled. It was somewhat false, as if the woman would rather smirk or flaunt some breach of protocol, but its presence alone warmed Bastila’s heart. She could understand the wariness of those who fought for Revan and his Empire towards embracing Jedi of any stripe, even the Dark ones. Yet she also knew that Revan couldn’t let that name persist only in the hands of their foes. The Order’s history was too great and too rich to be allowed to slip away and be squandered by fools and the ignorant.
Bastila made her way from the hangar and to one of only three limited turbolifts aboard the Princess. This one hosted only three stops: the hangar, the bridge, and her personal quarters.
“The ship is yours, Captain,” Bastila said, entering the turbolift. She nodded as Fel saluted. The door sealed and the lift shifted up towards her quarters. Several seconds later, the lift stopped and she stepped out. Dimmed lights activated as she entered the main room, a longue with several couches and tables, all decorated with traditional sculptures and art from Talravin. It was liberating, being able to openly display her heritage. It, along with many other things, was something she was grateful for Revan helping her come to terms with.
Instead of falling onto one to rest or relax, she continued on into her room, with its large, low resting bed covered in some of the most luxurious sheets and blankets found anywhere in the Known Galaxy.
Revan does love to fawn over me as if I am officially the Empress. I wonder if he will make it true…
A small, silly smile crested her lips at the thought. As much as she worked to discourage the idea amongst those she came into contact with, a part of her was still that same Padawan girl secretly infatuated by the war hero she watched holos of. Before his apparent betrayal when he came back as the Dark Lord. Before she betrayed the Republic, and in doing so, destroyed it.
How will history paint us? She pondered, drawing upon the Force to pour herself a glass of Corellian Whiskey. Revan had introduced the drink to her during one of several long conversations shortly after her defection. She sipped at it, letting the burning liquor slide down her throat and warm her chest. The coming days would determine the future of the galaxy and she had to prepare herself, no matter what.
Are we to be beloved figures of galactic history? Will we only be seen as those who did as they thought right? Or shall we be thought of as monsters who embraced the Dark Side and destroyed the Light?