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Chapter Text

She felt their presence through the Force long before they entered her humble chambers. Bastila Shan drew out of her meditation, grey eyes blinking open, and looked up. “Do you have a mission for me, Master?”

“The Council has need of your skills.” Master Atris—Historian of the Jedi Order, Caretaker of the Archives, and a member of its High Council—stood in the doorway, rigid and dressed in white. None of her handmaidens, all of Echani heritage, were with her. She watched Bastila with a closed, narrow expression. “What is with our most promising Jedi and going to war? Some times you remind me too much of him.”

“But I am not him,” Bastila said, rising to her feet. “If I were, or even if I was with him, it is…likely that the Republic and the Jedi Order would have fallen.”

Atris crossed her arms, glaring. “Do not speak like that, Knight Shan. We are on a fragile footing as it is. Hearing about the potential fall of this ancient order is not one we need spread.”

Bastila raised her hands. “Peace, Master Atris. It is but a theory. His command during the Mandalorian Wars made him a hero for a reason, and the more dangerous of the two Sith Lords during this current war. There was a reason I spent the first year of the war reviewing his actions and tactics against the Mandalorians. But, that is not why you are here.

“What is needed of me?”

Atris was unreadable as any knowledgeable Jedi Master. “You have slain one Sith Lord. Can you slay the other?”

Bastila paused, turning introspective. In the three years since the beginning of what the HoloNet called the Jedi Civil War, Bastila Shan had found herself rapidly grow from an inexperienced Padawan with a powerful parlor trick to the Savior of the Republic that it seemed everyone—Naval High Command, the Jedi Council, and the Senate—were relying upon to achieve victory.

Seven weeks had passed since the Second Battle of Iridonia. It had been a massive victory for the Republic, primarily due to her own heroics and growing skill. During the bloody ground assault that followed smashing the small Sith fleet unprepared in orbit, she had fought her way through a platoon worth of Dark Jedi and ended up confronting Darth Malak in one-on-one combat. The only thing she distinctly remembered from the long, draining fight other than fear and pain and something she couldn’t begin to explain was the lightening of her mood and change in morale when she struck down the Apprentice to the Dark Lord. There was no joy in his death, only relief and the Force.

That, more than her battle meditation and the victories it had led to (nobody ever spoke of her failure during the attempt to retake Foerost, something she was thankful for if only so to keep it off her mind), had earned her the status of hero and savior. Now it appeared it was expected of her to do it again.

“I will do my duty then. He is the Dark Lord of the Sith—the most powerful wielder of the Dark Side, the greatest with a lightsaber who practice their dark arts. His knowledge makes me shiver.”

“Shiver how?” Atris asked, an accusing tone.

“It is not with fear or anything resembling desire, Master. More of a tremble, to be honest. Though I feel…cold whenever I consider what terrible knowledge and power he may possess. Is that all, or shall you escort me to my shuttle?”

Atris frowned for a long moment and then relented with a sigh. “We are sending a group of Jedi Knights and two Masters—a member of the Council and the Battlemaster—with you, Knight Shan. This is a risky move, no matter what High Command thinks. Revan convinced a third of our Order to join him in fighting the Mandalorians and nearly all that survived the war have been swayed to the Dark Side. We have reason to believe the abomination that was the Battle of Malachor V was a plot to destroy those who wouldn’t fall. Be mindful of yourself and consider this a command: should you be taken alive, you are to take your life by any means. Neither the Republic nor the Jedi have a hope of surviving should you fall to the Dark Side.” She paused and sighed. “You are right to believe you would be a tremendous threat in his possession.”

“I understand,” Bastila said. “And I suspect you are right to order me to end my life should I be captured. I fear he will wish to turn me, to replace Malak and his brutality with my battle meditation.”

“Revan would make you his apprentice? That’s what you think?” Bastila nodded, bringing an irritated scowl to Master Atris’ face. “Blast High Command, those kriffing fools. You should not be part of this mission, but they insisted and the Chancellor has used your status and rank to go over the Council on this matter. The team we are sending are meant to protect you, even if they’re more interested in being the one to stop Darth Revan. Well, except Master Vrook. He knows his role is to deal with the Dark Lord without endangering you.”

“I shall be careful, Master.” Bastila then smiled, raising a gauntleted arm. “I am well protected.”

After foiling an assassination attempt—nobody knew what became of the assassin droid, but it had disappeared after calling everyone ‘meatbag’ and promising violent retribution before falling a hundred stories—Bastila had been gifted with several kilograms worth of cortosis, the rare metal capable of disrupting lightsabers. And so she had commissioned what some were calling ‘Jedi War Robes’ with the metal imbued into it. It was layered onto gauntlets and gilded armor plates upon her chest and shoulders, at her waist and on the tabards hanging from her belt. The robes were dyed a dark brown to better match the mottled grey metal. She had added dark sleeves and leggings to complete the ensemble. She knew several images of her in those robes were plastered across the HoloNet. The Republic was even adding it to their new batch of recruitment posters, though she was uncertain it would increase the Republic’s plateauing numbers as High Command was thinking.

The Sith expand quickly and too many Rim Worlds in the Republic distrust the Council and the Jedi for their failure to back Revan during the Mandalorian Wars. It’s all we can do to hold the Core Worlds, though High Command is unwilling to admit so. If we stop Revan before the war becomes unwinnable, we can break the Sith Empire and save the Republic from ruin.

“Yes, well,” Atris bit out as Bastila finally stood. “Do be careful, Knight Shan. May the Force be with you.”

“And with you, Master.” She reached out with the Force and summoned her lightsaber. Nodding to Atris, she left her chambers and joined the two members of the Temple Guard waiting for her. They wore white and gold ceremonial armor and, like her, carried a dual-bladed yellow lightsaber. Their weapons shared the color scheme of their armor while hers was unique. Most of the meter long pommel was covered in supple leather, while the emitter ends had caps of cortosis to foil any arrogant Dark Jedi thinking to disable her weapon. It proved effective on Iridonia and would elsewhere, for most engagements with Dark Jedi often left those Jedi still connected to the Light Side of the Force outnumbered three or four to one.

“You’re going after him, aren’t you?” asked one of the Guards, words muffled by his helmet.

Bastila glanced at him, hiding her surprise. “I am. You were here in Coruscant during the Mandalorian Wars, yes?”

“Only temple or conclave I’ve been part of. He was something else back then and many of us thought he’d be the future of the Order.” He snorted and shook his head. “I also remember the years before he joined the War, when he argued and pleaded with the Council to aid the Republic against the Mandalorians. There’s a reason so many were swayed to join him.”

“Did you ever consider going with the Revanchists?”

The Guard was quiet for several moments. He then said, “We all did, even us in the Temple Guard. I had already joined then, so I had duties and sworn oaths that bound me here. Yet…he was right and wrong about that war.”

“It was the correct choice, remaining here,” the other Guard remarked. “I was outside the Council Chambers when they punished the Exile for her involvement. If Malachor V hadn’t ripped away her connection to the Force, the Council would have.” He shivered. “If there is anything to fear, it would be a punishment like that. Revan should hope he dies on someone’s lightsaber. If he is captured and brought before the Council, they will destroy him.”

“I think the Council overstepped their bounds with her. The Order could’ve benefited from the Exile’s knowledge. And remember that she was repentant upon returning.”

“For what she did in that final battle, not for defying the Council to join the Revanchists.”

Bastila could feel their rising tension and, in an attempt to divert their argument, blurted, “I almost joined them.”

That brought a pause to their conversation and an awkward silence followed. The three had reached the turbolift down to the Temple’s main hangar, where the shuttle up to the Republic Fleet waited. They entered the turbolift and Bastila said, “Hangar level.”

The lift shifted, rising.

“You cannot be serious, Knight Shan,” the first Guard said, breaking the silence. “I know for a fact you didn’t come to the Temple until the final year of the War and by then, they had stopped recruiting. Those few volunteers then were Padawans who failed their Trials and fled to join Revan in hopes he could Knight them instead.”

“It was on Dantooine,” Bastila said. If there was ever a memory she dwelt on, one that she pondered over with ‘what if’s’, it was this one. “During the Wars, Malak made a discreet visit. This would’ve been less than a year after he declared himself to be Revan. I, along with five other Padawans, defied curfew and the masters to meet with him. He spoke of the War and our duty as Jedi to protect the innocent. I…I did not think much of my skills then, too often thinking I would die before becoming a Knight. I had yet to discover and master my unique Force ability and feared the wrath of the Council should I go.

“The others, though, went with him. They never even looked back at me, standing awkwardly in that grove, all alone except for the Force.”

“Do you know what became of them?”

“One died by the end of the Mandalorian Wars, though I do not know when or how. Another was the Exile.” Bastila drew in a shuttering breath. She had liked Meetra Surik during those brief months they knew each other and hearing what became of her still stung. “The others, though, were turned by Revan. One I believe was slain on Roche early into the war by a fortunate commando. The other two fell to my blade at Iridonia.”

The Temple Guard went quiet after that. She wondered what they felt, what they thought of her. She had known for a while now that if her skill of battle meditation had emerged before Malak’s fateful visit, she would have joined the Revanchists. And, as much as she wished to deny it, would have been turned to the Dark Side by Revan, perhaps even more. Amidst her studies, she had come across a Holo image of him without the mask and he was strikingly handsome. She was fully aware of her struggles with temptation, her temper that rippled under the surface, ready to burn. She heard the whispers, tempting her to reach out and use the Dark Side. It would be so simple to turn their weapon into her own, to burn them with lightning and strip away their life force. Yet, she held to the Light and the Jedi Code. She knew all too well that Revan had used Mandalorian tactics against them and it had brought about utter carnage, death and destruction. That was the price using the Dark Side brought.

She would not pay it, not if it meant abandoning everything she stood for.

The turbolift stopped and the doors swished open. Bastila stepped onto the hangar deck, the Guards following. The shuttle waited on the far side near the opening into the bright Coruscant day. Only one stood outside and as she approached, it was clear who waited.

“Master Vrook,” she said, bowing.

“Knight Shan. Congratulations on your promotion. Dorak and Zhar send their regards.” The old master gave her a brief, if weak, smile. He was well known for his strictness, so words like that were precious to the few who heard them. “Your dedication to the Jedi Order has paid off in full. I assume Atris has told you of my role for this mission?”

“She has and I explained the concerns I have already shared with you. I admit myself relieved that you will be the one to face Revan. I have seen the Holo recordings of my duel with Malak. It was strange, seeing myself fight with a skill I have yet to repeat. Some even doubt it was I, yet all the evidence points otherwise. Even my own memories, as blurred as they are, suggest it was me. And yet…”

Master Vrook frowned at the admission. “Do you think it has to do with your battle meditation? None of the texts speak of it being able to work in such a manner, but we know little of its full capacity.”

“If it can exchange skill and ability like that, then yes.” Bastila sighed. She hoped Vrook didn’t notice how doubtful the noise sounded. “Otherwise that recording is either fraudulent or something occurred during that fight I do not understand. A mystery about the Force that I don’t know if even the Council can answer.”

Before the Master could continue to question her, one of the Knights stuck their head out of the shuttle. “We will be off schedule if we dither any longer, Master Vrook.”

“Fine,” he bit out. “Come, Knight Shan. The Chancellor himself will be there to see us off, and you know better than anyone just what follows him around.”

Bastila grimaced, but blanked out her expression before she entered the shuttle. The door sealed behind her and it the craft rose. She quickly found a seat and just in time took, for the shuttle joined the rest of the winding and speeding traffic of the Republic’s capital world.

“I’ll be brief,” Master Vrook began, scanning the group of Jedi. “This is the most dangerous mission the Council has sent this many Jedi on since Grand Master Sunrider and Qel-Droma led the mission to put an end to Exar Kun. While the Council would prefer to bring Darth Revan in alive, I have been granted clemency to handle him however I see fit. The purpose of this mission is to cripple the Sith threat by removing their leader and exacerbate the power vacuum formed in the aftermath of Knight Shan’s victory over Darth Malak. They will descend into infighting and either destroy themselves or will return to the Republic and the Jedi. This strike is designed with the express aim to turn the war in our favor.”

“What about our Battle Maiden?” one of the Knights asked, smirking. A couple others around him grinned, amused. Bastila had seen the nickname on the HoloNet and had felt both mortified and touched. “Is she just here to look pretty or does she have a special mission?”

“In a way,” Vrook grumbled. His eyes sought her out and she nearly sighed as their gazes locked. “Would you prefer I tell them about our suspicions or will you do it, Knight Shan?”

“I can do it,” Bastila said. She waited a moment until the shuttle was quiet except for the sounds outside. “A few members of the High Council and I have come to the conclusion there is reason to believe that during the engagement with Revan, he will attempt to sway me to the Dark Side. After Iridonia and given my unique skill with battle meditation…” She drifted off, letting the others come to the same conclusion she had, along with Masters Atris and Vrook.

The shuttle chilled and grimaces were all around.

“A strong apprentice you would make for him,” said Master Tarras, Battlemaster of the Order, thoughtful and with some sense of regret. He had helped her refine her lightsaber technique upon arriving on Coruscant. She was certain at least one bruise remained from his lessons in lightsaber combat. It was also said that Tarras had worked with Revan to refine his skill with Jar’Kai, a skill he now used to kill Jedi who wouldn’t turn. “You have always had great promise and you have achieved great successes during the current war. He would be a fool to not try and seize that strength for his own.”

“There are suspicions I have about the upcoming engagement,” Bastila continued. She noticed both Masters frown. “If Revan truly wants me as his apprentice, then his forces will avoid attacking me directly during most, if not all, engagements.” Her eyes flicked between the Masters. “At least that will be how those strictly loyal to him fight. Those Dark Jedi with ambitions and any Sith, though? I cannot say. They may have strict orders, or they may see killing me as an easy ticket to becoming Revan’s apprentice instead.”

“I thought this was a raid, not a babysitting mission,” complained Knight L’Uhiln. Bastila pursed her lips, arms crossed.

“It isn’t,” Master Vrook said. “Of all the Knights here, she would stand the best chance against him by herself, especially if she could repeat her efforts against Malak. I would prefer to avoid subjecting her to that, however. The threat alone of Revan wishing to turn her is worrisome enough.”

The shuttle remained rather quiet for the remainder of their trip. Most of the Knights whispered in the small groups that had naturally formed through time, training, and when they had come to the Temple on Coruscant. Bastila didn’t mind that nobody spoke to her, for it gave a chance to meditate and consider the coming raid. Her successes in the current conflict had, in part, stemmed from the totality of her studies into Revan’s tactics, started during an ill-advised week after Foerost where she had studied Revan’s campaigns during the Mandalorian Wars, sustaining herself with only caffa and the Force. There was logic, as disturbing and progressively bloody, to everything he did. She could almost even understand why he had ordered the usage of the Mass Shadow Generator at Malachor V. Though, she always wondered if he would have done it if he had known the price General Surik would pay. A few reports she had stumbled upon spoke of a very un-Jedi-like relationship between the two. One, if she were not so focused on being a disciplined Jedi, would make her seriously wonder what life beyond the Order was like.

Bastila shook her head, driving away the dark and corrupting thoughts. Instead, she turned to the Code. Not the Code as taught to her as a girl on Dantooine, but another version that resonated with her and brought comfort whenever she felt doubts bubble up. She had, in the months before Revan’s return and the Attack on Foerost, convinced Grand Master Sunrider to accompany her on a pilgrimage to Tython. Nomi had been kind enough to not record their path through the Deep Core to the ancient homeworld of the Jedi. A sign of trust, the older Jedi had said. It was through the Force that she had found the route through the dangerous region of space, and it was there she had discovered an ancient form of the Jedi Code. It was this one she now used, mentally reciting it for it worked wonders to ground her:

Emotion, yet peace.

Ignorance, yet knowledge.

Passion, yet serenity.

Chaos, yet harmony.

Death, yet the Force.

“We’re about to land,” a soft voice whispered. Bastila’s eyes opened and she looked up at Master Vrook. He was looking outside and scowling something fierce. Ah, the Chancellor. And where he goes, the press is quick to follow.

She steeled herself for what was the come. The shuttle landed and, following behind Master Vrook, stepped onto the large landing platform. It was here they would board the gunship transport up to their frigate detail in orbit. From there, they would join with Admiral Troan Tarntine and his Seventh Task Force—five cruisers, four destroyers, ten frigates, and thirteen corvettes—to make the three hyperspace jumps to the Sernpidal System, where in seven days, the Third Imperial Fleet would arrive to secure the system’s loyalty in a campaign to capture and/or destroy the Dantooine Enclave. And among the ships of the Third was the target flagship: the Revanchist. Darth Revan had used it since the final year of the Mandalorian Wars. It was unique among the score of massive silver ships the Sith Empire favored.

Bastila could see the layout of the Revanchist, the route they would take from the forward shuttle bay to the bridge, a dozen meters above the hull’s top. Her battle meditation would get them aboard and, should everything work as planned, back to the Seventh before the Sith could destroy them to the last ship.

That assumes things go according to plan.

Bastila shoved the doubtful thought away and forced a light smile onto her face. The press was already swarming and she suspected this very moment was going out live via the HoloNet. There were a few holocams floating about, most connected to droids deployed by the largest media conglomerates. For a brief moment, she wondered if Revan would be watching. She almost wanted him to. It was a dumb, silly idea she realized.

“General Shan,” greeted Admiral Forn Dodonna. “Your promotion is well deserved.” The older woman had been one of the few officers that had survived Revan three times—once at Malachor V, then again when he left for the Unknown Regions, and finally upon his return as the Dark Lord.

I would much rather work with her than Admiral Tarntine. She respects the opinions of her Jedi peers and challenges poor ideas. Fighting with Revan did her good during the Mandalorian Wars.

“Thank you, Admiral Dodonna. It’s a pleasure to meet you once more.” They exchanged polite nods. “Do you know which ship we’ll be assigned to?”

“Admiral Tarntine is keeping that close to his chest. It’s for the best, though.” Dodonna leaned closer to Bastila and whispered, “One of the Admiralty was assassinated this morning. We suspect that raving droid you stopped is responsible, though we have yet to confirm it’s involvement. We do know that everything leads back to a single source.”

“Revan,” Bastila murmured.

Dodonna nodded with a stern frown.

“General Shan?” called the Chancellor. “If you could come speak to the press?”

“A moment, Chancellor,” she responded. Bastila turned back to Dodonna and said, “Stay safe, Admiral, and may the Force be with you.”

“And with you, General. You will need it.”

Bastila nodded and then crossed to where the Chancellor and a few senators waited. She didn’t know their names, but recognized one as a Duros and another as a Rodian. She briefly wondered if the Senator for Iridonia was with them, but there was little time to greet them and learn which worlds they represented. There was a brief exchange of nods and then she turned to the Chancellor.

“Good day, Chancellor.” Her eyes scanned the press. There were probably thirty of them packed onto the platform with microphones and cameras and whatever else. The shuttle from the Jedi Temple was departing, the rest of her fellows circling around the press to reach where their shuttle to the Task Force would come and go from.

“And to you, General. The press have a few questions for you.”

More like twenty, Bastila thought bitterly. She pushed it aside and turned to them.

“I will answer a few, then I must depart. My shuttle will be arriving soon.”

An aging human in fine teal robes shouted above the crowd. “General Shan, this is for The Republica. Do you have any estimates on how much longer the war will go on for?”

“I cannot say what the Jedi Council’s opinion on the matter is, but High Command believes the war should be over by next year. In the upcoming months there will be campaigns to turn the tide and push Revan’s Sith Empire back into the Mid Rim and then the Outer Rim.

“Next?”

“Galactica News,” a lanky Muun called out. “After the death of Darth Malak at your hands, does the Navy or the Jedi plan to use you against Darth Revan?”

“The Navy is of the mind that my presence is necessary to take down Revan, yes. While I cannot confirm it, I personally believe they think I must be there when Revan is defeated—perhaps even be the one to strike him down. The Council, however, is of the opinion that I could do more harm than good should I encounter Revan. With the death of his apprentice, he will be seeking out one powerful in the Force to replace Malak as his right hand and chief enforcer. And with what we know of the Sith, the Council has come to an…unsettling conclusion.”

“It sounds as if they believe he would target you,” the Muun filled in. The other press members murmured.

Perceptive, Bastila thought. She said, “The Council is of an opinion similar to that, yes. Whether it is true, I cannot say. Unlike what some say about me on the HoloNet, I do not know Revan’s mind as if it were my own.”

Atris would disagree, but she is quick to judge and slow to change her opinions.

To her surprise, that garnered a few chuckles.

Was that humorous? Is there something I’m missing?

“Last question,” a dark skinned, female human said. “You did say a few and you Jedi are always so busy.” Many of her fellow journalists groaned. Bastila smiled with relief. It was almost over. “Given your successes in this war, I was wondering why you never joined the Mandalorian Wars? You are of an age as General Surik and she, while important to the Republic war effort, never achieved the same level of…results as you have in this war.”

Bastila pursed her lips. She glanced over the crowd towards Master Vrook, who had his arms crossed and was glaring daggers at the reporter.

The gunship to the battle group had yet to arrive.

“I was there when Me…the Exile was recruited by Malak to fight in the Mandalorian Wars,” Bastila began. Her eyes scanned the crowd of journalists. They watched her like mynocks, hungry and patient even in the cold of space. “I…spoke of the Council’s wisdom in not intervening in the war.” There were some hisses. Another reminder of the growing gap between the Jedi and the people we have sworn to protect. “Even so, I would have stayed if I were to repeat that day. It would be folly not to suspect the powers that allowed Revan to turn so many good Jedi to the Dark Side and join his selfish cause of conquest.”

“Yes, well, I believe the General must go,” the Chancellor said. He was right, for the gunship had finally arrived on the platform. Bastila made her way towards it, skirting around the journalists as they threw all sorts of questions at her. Only one—“If you had joined the Revanchists, would you have turned against the Republic?”—stuck with her as she boarded the shuttle with her fellow Jedi.

“I am heading straight for my cabin once we’re aboard and taking a long soak,” Bastila said, rubbing her arms. There were several snorts. She found a corner seat and slumped into it. “It could be a hundred years before I next speak with a journalist and it will be too soon.”

“It’s undignified, subjecting you to something like that,” the nearest Knight said. “Revan going before the press of his own volition is one thing, but the Chancellor letting them ambush you while preparing for a major mission that’ll change the course of the war? It’s unsightly.”

“Yes, well, I apparently have been helping his numbers,” Bastila snarled. “The Senate was close to ousting him from the Chancellorship before I begun winning battles for the Republic. Then again, this isn’t the first time they’ve interfered with a Jedi everyone proclaims Savior of the Republic.”

“Be mindful of your emotions, Knight Shan,” Master Vrook reprimanded.

She sighed, working her shoulders to release her frustrations. “Yes, Master Vrook.” With that, Bastila rested against the gunship’s interior, feeling the shakes as they passed through the atmosphere to reach the steady draw of orbit around the industrial planet.

Soon your empire will fall, Revan. I hope you have the wisdom to turn from your path, or else you shall fall with it.

Chapter Text

The Dark Lord Revan stood on the bridge of his flagship, the Revanchist, and stared through transparisteel at the Republic Task Force sent to face off with his Third Imperial Fleet. It was a foolish move, coming to fight him so far away from reinforcements and on his terms. In the weeks following the shocking defeat at Iridonia and the death of his apprentice and friend, he had his intelligence agents scan and search through his forces for Republic spies. He was both disappointed and relieved to discover one, but it proved to be an opportunity.

It took only one intentional slip of where and when he planned to be during the Dantooine Campaign to get the Republic and the Jedi to fall into his trap. It was sad how easy it was to goad the Jedi into coming to fight him, especially in the defense of their little enclave in the Outer Rim.

Have they become so foolish as to forget my own history? Do they forget that it was Zhar Lestin who first placed a lightsaber in my hand? I can see them forgetting that it was Dantooine where Arren Kae first brought me, before she was forced out and made her transformation into Kreia, who is neither light nor dark.

While there was no guarantee he would get the exact response he wished for when devising the plan to draw the Republic into a trap, the Force had long been his ally and by its will had drawn his true prize into his trap. For aboard one of the smaller Republic ships, he felt the presence the one he wanted—and foresaw—as his new apprentice. He assumed Bastila Shan would deny what was to be her fate, but Revan knew it would come to pass. The Battle Maiden, as they called her, would kneel before him and call him master. After all, she had already slain his previous apprentice, and by doing so had relieved him of a growing liability.

Alek had always been more susceptible to the Dark Side compared to myself, but I thought with my leadership and teachings I could keep him from falling too deep under its influence. Even so, I have to continue keeping up appearances with both the Sith Emperor’s spies—a problem that will soon be solved—and the parasites I lead. I will need to cull my numbers soon or re-educate them on how to best use and control the Dark Side. They have bothered me to no end about having an apprentice, presenting themselves as if they were worthy of the title. I continue to tell them to have patience, that the Force will deliver the one destined to learn my greatest powers and secrets.

A shame so many view patience as a Jedi virtue. It should not be so, though they would scoff at my words. I will have whom I wish and now she is within my net. For who best to have at my side than the one who has done the most to slow and halt my progress?

And from everything I had learned of her, she is the one capable of learning everything I know and have to teach. She only needs to be willing to embrace the power that let her destroy Malak. I doubt the Council appreciates one who can balance the Force. Though I am curious how she did it, even if subconsciously.

“My Lord, a troop transport has broken off from the main Republic force. Fighter Wing Seven is reporting irregular behavior whenever they attempt to intercept the craft,” reported Admiral Karath. He had come aboard after Malak’s death and proved to be a capable strategist and leader. “What do you wish done about the threat?”

“Let them board uncontested and have the forces I had requisitioned after Malak’s death moved into and around the stairwell between their projected landing point and the bridge. Make sure they understand that they are to fight to the death,” Revan said. “The Republic is playing into my hand, and even delivering the one I want.” He paused and glanced at the Admiral. “Do remind the Dark Jedi and Sith being deployed that Knight Bastila Shan is to reach me unharmed. If they manage to survive and she has even a scratch when she reaches the bridge, I will kill them. That is assuming they survive the battle. The rest, Jedi and Republic soldier alike, can perish. Any Jedi they do happen to take alive are to be taken to Detention Block Zeta.”

“It will be done,” Admiral Karath said, bowing. Revan turned away, sneering beneath his mask. No wonder he fought for the Republic and then turned when cornered. I can’t believe I trusted him during the Mandalorian Wars. When the time comes to reform my Empire, Karath will be dealt with. He only wore the Mandalorian mask for two purposes: the first, to remind everyone just who he was, and the second, to hide his features. Blue eyes and an olive complexion were not signs of the Dark Lord of the Sith by any measure.

If the Emperor knew I had broken his compulsions and alchemic workings, he would send assassins, or worse, after me. I must secure the galaxy before I can fight that threat. And Bastila will make that fight easier.

“T minus three minutes and twenty-seven seconds until the Republic shuttle arrives,” a tactical officer announced, eyes focused on a red and black monitor. “Their heading confirms projections for Forward Hangar, Deck One.”

Revan nodded, a rather absent gesture. “Have it cleared immediately. I want them to land unimpeded. Lure them in to be destroyed.” He paused, looking around the bridge. Should I send the crew to the auxiliary bridge when the Jedi arrive? He considered the idea and then shook his head. I will just have to control myself, though I do not expect many of this strike team to reach my bridge.

“Sir?” the Admiral asked. “Is there something you wish to say?”

“No. Return to your duties Admiral, though I would suggest you stay out of my way. The Jedi will be here soon enough. I will do my best to ensure they do not interrupt normal operations. But if events find a way of getting out of hand, do move the crew to the auxiliary bridge.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Revan nodded and reached out into the Force. Bastila Shan, you shall be mine.

“Endar Ops, this is Endar Drop One. On final approach to Revanchist. Heading is three-four-four by two-zero-three. Repeat: On final approach to Revanchist. Arriving in T minus two minutes and forty-one seconds.”

“Endar Drop One this is Endar Ops. We read your heading. Adjust by zero-zero-two by zero-zero-one. Rerouting Endar Three and Four to cover final approach. Link COMs until you reach the enemy hangar. Good luck and may the Force be with you.”

“Understood Endar Ops. Adjusting heading for final approach. Linking COMs with Endar Three and Four. May the Force be with you.”

With that, the COM link between shuttle and capital ship went silent. Two snub fighters moved to form up with the shuttle as it approached the enemy.

Chapter Text

Bastila drew out of her battle meditation with a shuttering breath. She could still feel, though not manipulate, every working of the skirmish beyond the shuttle. It was only the obnoxious droids employed by the Sith Empire to supplement their forces that she was incapable of directly manipulating. She would trust in the two snub fighters sent to guide their shuttle to the Revanchist to do their job and keep them safe from attack. Yet not everything around her felt right. She tensed, feeling the brush of a presence that was both familiar and new. It was cold and hot, as if the Force was condensed into a singularity and it had decided to grace her with its gaze.

“Revan,” she whispered, goosebumps rising under her tight robes. Several Knights glanced at her frowning. She looked into their eyes and saw reflected the other emotions they didn’t want so obviously displayed.

“Do we have a problem, Knight Shan?” Master Vrook asked.

“Revan knows I’m here, Master,” Bastila said, her heart pounding in her ears. “And…and I know he will be waiting for me. He wants me to come to him.”

I cannot tell you the truth. He is certain I will fall, that I will become a Sith like him. Or at least that is what I am certain I felt through the Force in that moment.

She turned to the Commandos sent with them. One of the Admiral’s trusted men had picked them for the mission, drawing from the fleets of Admirals Dodonna, Tarkin, and Stroad. “Lieutenant Antilles. Prepare your men for boarding. We are expecting heavy resistance, both from Sith Troopers and Dark Jedi. Do any of your men have experience fighting Force-sensitives? Preferably those with confirmed kills.”

Lieutenant Antilles nodded. “Fireteam Three does, General. They even have seven confirmed Dark Jedi kills from the fighting on Roche and elsewhere along the Perlemi—”

Bastila cut him off. Time was ticking away. “I understand, lieutenant. Bring them forward.”

The Lieutenant pursed his lips, wishing to protest, but relented and brought them forward. Fireteam Three was composed of three soldiers dressed in black flight suits and orange haphazard armor. Two were human, both female with freckles and their hair cut short. The hilts of what she assumed were several vibroknives poked out from various points across their armor. The third was a frowning Duros carrying a long rifle coated in the same dark, matte metal comprising her armor. The design of the weapon was not Republic issue, though didn’t match any known Sith weapons either.

“Fireteam Three, you will be with me. While we don’t have the intelligence to back it, we are working under the assumption the enemy will seek to capture me, either en route or on the bridge. Because they will be so inviting,”—she paused as several troopers snickered—“I will take point. Your orders are simple: anyone with a red lightsaber or in shiny armor that moves past me, blast them dead. I may give you other orders during the mission, so stay sharp and keep an eye on me. We don’t have the time or resources to take prisoners, as much as it pains the Jedi in me to say.”

“Understood, General,” they said.

“What of Fireteams One, Two, Four, and Seven?” the Lieutenant asked.

Bastila considered his question, looking over the other Commandos. “When we board the Revanchist, I want One on our left, Two on the right. Lieutenant, lead Seven in the center and have Four cover our rear. The Jedi already know where they should be. We had a separate briefing while en route from the Ord Mantell system. Listen to their advice, but if your men feel it’s counterproductive, they may do as they see fit.”

“I will stick close to you, Lieutenant,” Master Tarras added as the Lieutenant nodded.

The comm buzzed. “General, T minus twenty. LZ is cold. Repeat, LZ is cold.”

Bastila frowned, turning to face towards the capital ship. Why are you letting us land without contest, Revan? What purpose does this serve you? Or are you so fixated on me?

“Understood, Commander Onasi. Once we deploy, prepare for a hot departure and have your guns ready. This reeks of a trap, or even worse.”

“Understood, General. May the Force be with you.”

“And with you.”

The shuttle compartment went quiet. It was tense with anticipation and the interior had gone dark. They continued like this until a small comm high above crackled with the pilot’s voice. There was some shuffling as the commandos moved towards the positions Bastila had commanded. She could almost make out the composite weave on the transport’s interior, standing so close to the door primed to open.

“LZ in five…four…three…”

The shuttle rumbled as it passed through the Revanchist’s ionized shields and landed hard against the hangar floor.

“Two…one…!”

The right-side door opened with a loud hiss. Bastila sprung forward, Fireteam Three on her heels. She moved forward several paces, lightsaber in hand yet quiet. Other Jedi were more impatient and she heard their lightsabers ignite and hum as they illuminated the hangar in the blues and greens favored by her fellows.

It was disturbingly empty, as if Revan had expected them to land there. Whatever ships and equipment were typically stored in this hangar had gone missing or been moved. She reached out with the Force. Revan’s presence was thick in the Force, surrounding and penetrating nearly everything aboard the Revanchist. It took longer than she wished, but Bastila found him high on the bridge connected to Deck Ten.

I had been uncertain about landing in this hangar, but it seems the prediction of where he would be is correct. I will say that as tedious as rising through a capital ship can be, it beats fighting our way across an entire deck. She suppressed the brief thought and continued to feel out the forces between them and Revan. There’s a lot to fight through, yet the way they seem to be assembled… Is this to be a trap or only an impediment? I think I know which it is and I am unsettled.

Are they truly that meaningless to you Revan, or am I that valuable?

“Do you suspect what I do?” Master Vrook asked as he came up beside Bastila.

“I believe so, Master Vrook. Revan clearly expected us and I personally think this is a trap. So,” she said, glancing at him with a smile, “we shall spring it.”

Master Vrook puffed, rolling his eyes. “Atris is right to compare you to Revan at times. He would express the exact same sentiment about this situation. Reports from the Mandalorian Wars quoted him saying those words a few times, too.”

Bastila frowned at the Master’s comment. She was growing tired of the comparison from the two Masters. She did not fault them from wanting her to be less like Revan. They were all that remained of the long-term teachers Revan had during his time as a Jedi. He had trained with Master Zhar for a time, but that had been under the oversight of his first Master, Arren Kae, who had disappeared into exile for ‘Crimes Against the Order’ (which she learned meant was the woman had a child with a married man). The other, Kreia, had followed him to war only to vanish. She was doubtful the two were separate individuals, but both of their files in the Archives were restricted. The fact Kreia disappeared at Malachor V convinced most she had paid the price for siding with her student. Bastila was doubtful, but even she wouldn’t dare venture to that cursed world. She thought the Mandalorians were right to call the place taboo, for it was inflicted with wounds from the Dark Side and whatever Revan’s superweapon had done to the world.

Bastila drew herself back into the present as she approached the nearest door. Based upon the plans they had, there was a stairwell just beyond, one that followed a boxy spiral all the way to Deck Ten and landed right before the main bridge. She reached out, feeling the stairwell with the Force. It was thick with darkness and life.

Turning back, she used her hands to communicate with the Republic Commandos—‘Heavy resistance to target. Some fifty Force signatures and at least one hundred Troopers in support waiting for us. Suspect ambushes on every deck.’ They nodded, weapons hissing as they drew from the charge batteries. Bastila then reached out, drawing upon her battle meditation, and fed the same information to her fellow Jedi. Several Knights smiled, as if fighting that many Dark Jedi was something to enjoy or even look forward to.

She approached the large door out of the hangar and ignited her lightsaber when it automatically slid open. The corridor before her was empty and the doorway into the stairwell was sealed. She gestured to Fireteam Three and they surrounded the door. The two humans took the left while the Duros took the right. The door remained sealed, not even showing a sign of budging. Bastila walked over and joined them as the rest of the strike team moved forward.

One of the humans of Fireteam Three reached into a pouch strapped to her thigh and pulled out a standard issue door opener—flat thermal cord-lined blasting corners, bound together by a compressed blasting core with stretching activation cables. She moved quickly, setting a blasting corner at each corner of the door, offset by a few centimeters, and then stuck the core just off center of the door.

With her fingers, Bastila counted down from five. The moment she made a tight fist, the door blew inward and with the Force as her ally, she sped in. The two Dark Jedi waiting were startled by the door and had moved away from their ambush spots. With a spin of her lightsaber, yellow blades sliced through their necks and two hooded heads plopped onto the durasteel floor. Fireteam Three were right behind her, the Duros and the woman who had laid the blasting corners checking the corners.

“Clear, ma’am,” they said. Bastila nodded and began up the staircase. The moment she turned the first corner, Sith Troopers opened fire from behind durasteel shields. She spun her lightsaber, letting the dual blades hold their blaster bolts at bay. The female commandos formed upon her, keeping low while peering over her shoulders.

“Place your weapons on my shoulders and aim for their necks,” Bastila softly commanded. “On my mark, fire.” She continued to spin her weapon, reflecting blaster bolts in random directions as two blasters were laid on the soft spot right beside the shoulder sockets. She kept up her defense for several more seconds and then said, “Mark.”

Two bolts zipped through gaps in Bastila’s defense, across the distance, and right into the spots assigned. The Sith Troopers collapsed, dead. Sighs of relief came from behind Knight Shan as she let her weapon come to rest before her. The shaft fell quiet beyond the humming of her saber.

“Where’s the trap?” one of the troopers asked.

“Above us, most like,” Bastila said, stretching out into the Force. The Dark Jedi were smart to keep away from the flowing currents, likely relying upon their foul master to disguise their intentions. “I suspect they will wait for me to reach one of the higher levels before springing it in full. I am the one Revan wants.” She glanced back when she heard another humming weapon. “Though I imagine Revan will enjoy being reunited with Master Vrook.”

“Let him enjoy our meeting without his limbs,” the Master growled. He and the rifle bearing Duros stood behind the two female troopers. “Let’s keep moving, Knight Shan. The sooner we deal with Revan, the sooner the war will end.”

“Do not think this raid will end the war, Master.” They continued up the staircase, eyes wary and ears open. “Yes, it will determine who will be victorious, but there will be more battles before this conflict comes to a close.”

The stairwell was empty as they climbed the distance from Deck One up to Deck Four. Bastila reached out with the Force at every turn, but found only darkness and silence swirling around them. Master Vrook also struggled to pin down the enemy beyond around them.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” the Duros mumbled through thin lips. One of the female troopers popped him hard with her fist.

“Don’t say that, you blasted jinx,” she hissed. “General, how much further until we reach our kriffing goal?”

“Six more decks, Sergeant. Also, language.”

What are they waiting for, Bastila wondered as they finally reached Deck Five. And then there was a terribly loud shout from behind, startled and with a hint of panic.

“AMBUSH!”

Bastila doesn’t recognize the voice, but she could tell it was one of the Knights a deck or three behind them. It came the moment before lightsabers ignited and blasters opened fire. The stairwell behind them, below them, turned into chaos (chaos, yet serenity) in a few brief seconds as the ambush was fully sprung. She tried to raise a semblance of her battle meditation, but she struggled to connect strongly enough to influence either the enemy or the strike team. There was a temptation to turn back and aid them, but her eyes met Vrook’s.

“Fireteam Three, we press on.”

“What about—”

“The mission comes first,” Bastila said. The words felt like tar coming from her mouth, but she knew it was the right call. “I don’t like it either, but if we can’t reach Revan, then any sacrifices will be in vain. More than just a few friends rely upon our success.”

The commandos all grimaced, but swallowed the orders without protest. Master Vrook was passive, though Bastila imagined he was damming Revan in his mind.

They continued unopposed until they reached Deck Seven. Three Dark Jedi leaped down from above, red lightsabers swinging in erratic arcs. Bastila caught one on her lightsaber, tossing the warm corpse into one of its living allies. The three troopers were smart enough to spread out their blast pattern, putting the third Dark Jedi on the defensive.

Master Vrook engaged the Dark Jedi who had been distracted by the collision with the body of her dead fellow. She resisted the Jedi Master during the first five strikes, but soon fell as his blade cut down her body from neck to hip. Bastila turned to aid the troopers against the last Dark Jedi, but found they had blasted that one into a black, hole-ridden, steaming pile of flesh.

She flared her nostrils and got a bad whiff of burnt flesh. “Let’s keep moving.”

When they reached the next Deck, four more Dark Jedi moved to ambush. Bastila deactivated her lightsaber, tossing it into her left hand, and clobbered the nearest Dark Jedi with her armored, Force enhanced fist. There was a nasty crack as the blow shattered and then unhinged the woman’s jaw, which the Knight followed up with an overpowered Force push into the empty center.

“For Lord Mal—Revan!” another Dark Jedi shouted, red saber raised high above their head. They were silenced when the Duros trooper put an overpowered blaster bolt right down their mouth. Steam briefly emerged as their body slumped into a heap, weapon deactivating before hitting the staircase.

That one was an idiot, Bastila thought before igniting her saberstaff to parry a poorly timed pair of attacks from the two remaining Dark Jedi. One bellowed when she lopped off his off arm and the other froze, giving her the time to put her yellow blade through the disarmed enemy’s heart. Master Vrook swiftly finished the remaining Dark Jedi.

“And they say the Dark Side is stronger than the Light,” Vrook stated, smirking.

“I fear Revan is throwing his most worthless troops at us, or those whose loyalty he suspects,” Bastila retorted. “One of them nearly shouted Malak’s name instead of his. Though it is the way of the Sith to betray their masters.” She turned back to the three troopers as Vrook grumbled something intelligible. “Excellent aim, Corporal.” The Duros nodded, a pleased smile upon his grey face.

“Just doing my job, General. You’re doing the heavy lifting here.” He glanced down the stairwell and then added, “Especially with the one you caught on your lightsaber.”

Bastila nodded, fighting down a faint blush. She had never received a compliment from one of her men. An admiral or a captain might thank her for using her battle meditation to turn the tide of a space battle, but infantry and spec op soldiers too often swung clear of Jedi, and Jedi of them.

We could do so much more to help the Republic, she thought as they continued up the stairs. Revan was right about our failures during the Mandalorian Wars, but he was short-sighted and then mysteriously fell. Once this war is over, we will need to rebuild the Order and perhaps even reform it. I hope the Council will be open to working to improve our image among the people we swore to protect.

The two Jedi and three troopers reached Deck Ten after one more skirmish, in which one of the troopers was badly nicked by a lightsaber along her left shoulder. Bastila had followed that blow by using the cortosis in her gauntlets to forcibly deactivate their lightsaber and then crushed the Dark Jedi’s nose with the Force so badly he collapsed, already dead.

She glanced around the empty corridor. Before them was the great doors that led onto the bridge. Bastila tapped her personal comm. “Lieutenant Antilles, this is General Shan. Status report.”

There was a few seconds of silence and then a voice. “This is Sergeant Tollins of Fireteam Two, General. The Lieutenant is dead.”

“Sergeant. How many do we still have?”

A burst of blaster fire and then the explosion of a grenade. “There’s about four of us troopers and seven Jedi. Do you need to speak with Master Tarras?”

“No need. What Deck are you on?”

A lightsaber hummed dangerously close to the Sergeant on the other end of the comm. “Deck Seven, ma’am, but its slow going. Sith Troopers have a hardened spot in between us and Deck Eight and the Dark Jedi keep leaping up from the lower decks.” There was a pause for blaster fire and then, “Fierfek! We need some help, ma’am.”

Bastila grimaced. “Hold out, Sergeant. I’m sending Fireteam Three to mop them from the rear and aid with the Dark Jedi. Master Vrook and I will press ahead and distract Revan. That should give our Jedi an edge over theirs.”

“Understood, ma’am. Tell them to be quick about it. Tollins out.”

Bastila turned to Fireteam Three. “You heard my order. If they’re in black or chrome, blast them. Get as many up here as you can.”

They nodded and descended back into the stairwell.

“Are you certain that was wise?” Master Vrook asked.

“It may not be, but we are capable enough to hold out against a Sith Lord.” Bastila turned to face the door to the bridge. “As Revan would say, ‘you can gain naught without great risk’.”

She stepped forward towards the bridge door, not minding to see whatever expression quoting Revan brought upon Vrook. It opened for them and they entered. Unlike what Bastila had expected, the bridge crew were still at their battle stations, busy directing the flow of battle. Admiral Saul Karath, who was near the door, gave her and Master Vrook an uncertain look as they passed him. Even so, he was disciplined enough to keep quiet in the presence of Jedi.

“I am pleased, apprentice. You have brought me a present.” Revan stood at the far end, barely an arm span between him and the transparisteel viewport. He continued to watch the unfolding battle beyond. “Admiral, take the crew to the aux bridge. This will get messy.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Admiral Karath said before gesturing to the men and women in the pits around them. They all shuffled out through side doors below, avoiding the Force-sensitives on the verge of combat.

Bastila glared at Revan’s back, imagining for a brief moment the image of putting her lightsaber through his back. “I am not your apprentice nor will I.” She reached out with the Force, feeling the Dark Side coalesce around him, but not penetrate him as she was told it would. It took all of her discipline to not voice her surprise.

“Not yet,” Revan remarked with a hint of amusement.

Master Vrook moved forward, following the center walkway towards the Dark Lord. “You arrogant boy. I never should have allowed you to press for war as you did.” He ignited his blue lightsaber, holding it forth in challenge. “I have the express permission of the Council to end the threat you present here and now.”

“Are you now,” Revan drawled, turning to face them. Bastila had seen images of the man who had led the Republic to victory in the Mandalorian Wars, but seeing him in person was something different entirely. The mask he wore, all blacks and reds, was visceral and imposing. Strange to think it was a remnant of the Revan she had admired, the one who had witnessed a terrible Force vision. It had shown him and his companions the butchery of the Cathar people and the bravery and honor of the brave Mando’ade who stood against Cassus Fett. Revan swore after that to wage war against the Mandalorians, to see justice done for not only the Cathar, but for the other peoples butchered by Mand’alor the Ultimate’s crusade.

His armor had barely changed from his declaration following Foerost three years ago. Dark leather and what she suspected was the Ultimate’s beskar’gam bound over black Sith robes. Below his waist hung his odd belt, comprised of dark cloths binding a large beskar ring over his lower hips, from which red cloth hung to break the darkness of the lower robes.

Two lightsabers hung from his belt. One, she suspected, was the violet blade he had crafted before leaving Dantooine to train on Coruscant. The other had to be a Sith weapon with the red blade they preferred.

Revan pulled one from his belt and ignited it to match the azure glow of Vrook’s saber. The amethyst blade hummed bright and clear. Bastila took it for a sign.

In a strange way, he must be reflecting how a Sith apprentice murders his master by using his Jedi weapon to kill a Jedi master.

“Then let us fight, Vrook. Apprentice, please let me fight the kind Jedi Master alone. I would not blame you if you put a lightsaber blade through his back, but I’ve been looking forward to this encounter for years.”

Bastila looked to Master Vrook, who kept a deadly focus upon Darth Revan. If he were to turn away, it would be a fatal mistake. And the way Revan speaks, its as if he wanted to kill Master Vrook before the Mandalorian Wars ended.

They charged and exchanged a quick flurry of blows before Revan used the Force to separate them. “You have grown slow, Vrook. Has age finally caught up to you? If it weren’t for Vandar, one would wonder if the Council is in need of an age limit.”

“I need no words from you,” Vrook shouted, lunging forward. Revan blocked the attack, but didn’t parry or press an attack of his own.

“Anger leads to hate, Vrook. Or have you forgotten that paradigm of Jedi wisdom?”

“Do not speak to me of our wisdom, you prideful fool!” Vrook bellowed. He shoved Revan back and swung for the man’s neck. A quick flash of purple blocked the blow, but Bastila could tell it had come closer than the Dark Lord had expected.

“Impressive,” Revan drawled, letting the vocalizer of his helmet add an electronic edge to his words. He then struck forward; aiming three blows for Vrook’s left shoulder and then followed it with a swirling underhand swing for the interior of the Master’s left thigh. The Jedi Master blocked the first three and just stepped back before the last could sever his leg, or worse. “Most impressive.”

“You have grown weak and arrogant,” Vrook said, twirling his blue blade. His chest heaved for air and Bastila could feel his faltering physical strength. “Let us finish this.”

“It is already over,” Revan declared. His violet blade swung and whirled, a blaze of light and death. And before Vrook could bring up a defense, his head fell to the floor. Utter shock was writ upon it, the anger and focus cut away just as the head had been. And then the body slumped, lightsaber deactivating.

“No!” Bastila shouted, igniting her saberstaff. She charged Revan, forcing him back, away from the body of Master Vrook. While she had found the man rather unpleasant and prone to displays of emotions unbecoming of a Jedi, she did not wish ill upon him. His death was the last thing she had wanted from this mission.

Revan, however, was a different story. There would be no tears shed for him.

“Let it flow,” he whispered, igniting his red blade after several exchanges. She assumed it was to make defending against her two yellow blades easier. The flow of their battle shifted from furious to prodding, as if they were military commanders sending scouts into enemy territory. “Every emotion, every passion, the Jedi have told you not to feel. Let them flow. You won’t be strong enough to defeat me otherwise.”

“I am a Jedi and thus in control of myself, Revan. Perhaps you are the one who has issues with letting their emotions flow wildly.”

Bastila had to quickly raise her saber to block a double overhead blow. It did little to keep her from being forced back. She nearly had to squat just to keep her feet from the blow’s power.

“Lecturing me, my apprentice? That is a Master’s job.”

“You are no master of mine.”

“Oh?” Revan questioned. He struck with three quick jabs from his red saber, followed by a fast spinning attack with the violet one. “I feel like this is the part where we start shooting our Codes at each other. I’ll let you start, for the first line of the Sith Code flows so smoothly from the Jedi one.”

Bastila ignored him and spun her weapon, opening Darth Revan’s chest for attack. He was quick to retreat and before they could engage once more, the bridge doors opened again. She backpedaled several steps and then looked back. Only five had made it the bridge: the three members of Fireteam Three, Master Tarras, and Knight L’Uhiln.

This…this was all that remained?

They had landed with a dozen Jedi and eighteen commandos. To be whittled down that low frightened her. She had expected losses; especially upon discovering they would have to fight through over a hundred enemy combatants to reach the bridge. But this was beyond most of her worst projections.

Then again, there were only eleven survivors before I sent Fireteam Three to rescue them. I had no idea how many were still living when I gave my orders.

“Ah, I see the rest of our guests are here.” Revan gestured to them and all five were bound tightly by Force stasis. “They will live long enough to see you swear yourself to me. After that, well, that will be your choice.”

Bastila turned back to Revan, glaring. “I will not do it. You will have me first.”

She suspected he was smirking—Sith Lords don’t smile—under the Mandalorian mask. “You are learning, apprentice.”

“I will never be your apprentice, Revan. You know you cannot win.”

“Enough,” he growled, charging her. She blocked his sudden flurry of blows until her opportunity emerged. When he was busy with simultaneous sideways slashes, she leaped over him and slashed at his shoulder. He ducked, but not enough to avoid the tip grazing him in the small spot between helmet and armor. Revan hissed from the pain and before she could land, Force pushed her across the bridge. She slammed into the transparisteel of the bridge’s viewport, grunting and dropping her lightsaber upon impact.

“I can feel your frustration, your anger,” Revan crooned, amused. Bastila stood on shaky legs, glaring. “You have but to channel them and then all of those sacrifices won’t be in vain.”

“I won’t give in to the Dark Side.”

“Is that so?” Revan asked, bemused. He turned away from her and to the five in stasis. He released Knight L’Uhiln, who immediately charged the Sith Lord. Bastila made to approach, reaching out for her weapon. Before she could get five steps, before her lightsaber could slap into an open palm, Revan cut down the Knight with ease and flourish.

“Will you let them all die for you?” he asked, turning back to Bastila. “Or will you draw upon the power that allowed you to destroy my former apprentice?”

She froze, stunned. The Dark Side had nothing to do with defeating Malak. “What… What do you…?”

“Know? Everything, my apprentice. I know everything.” Revan took a few steps forward, disengaging his lightsabers as his arms folded behind his back. “When you fought him, you drew upon everything you felt then and balanced the Force within yourself. You are no normal Jedi, Bastila. I am curious what has so set you apart.”

“Emotion, yet peace,” Bastila whispered. Master Sunrider had been the only one she shared the modified Code with. Nomi had once lived a life beyond that of a Jedi, and thus she was more understanding of breaking from orthodoxy. The old master that had fought Sith Lords before her had only smiled hearing the old code.

“Ah. That would explain much. So you know then?” Revan asked. The mix of curiosity and satisfaction in his voice sent shivers through Bastila. She hated that they were pleasant ones. “You know the darkest secret of the Jedi? How they purposefully weakened themselves in some foolish notion of holding to the Light? The old code embraced the full scope of the Force, even if it placed a preference upon the Light over the Dark.”

She would not voice her agreement about the change in the Code weakening the Order. Instead, Bastila said, “If you believe that, why would you fall to the Dark Side and become a Sith? Why not return to the Order and strengthen it?”

“Who said I fell?” Revan asked.

“The Council…” Bastila began before frowning. She knew full well his conflicts with the High Council before and during the Mandalorian Wars. Revan’s insistence upon going to fight was one of several incidents that had injured and fractured the already weak Jedi Order. “Are you claiming they lied when they said you were the Dark Lord of the Sith?”

“Mostly,” Revan admitted. “I may be more Sith than Jedi, but that doesn’t make me the Dark Lord of the Sith. There’s one more deserving of that title than me waiting beyond in the Unknown Regions. One who must be stopped before he does to a thousand worlds worse than the Mandalorians ever did to one.”

Bastila scowled, wondering who or what could be greater than Revan and worse than the Mandalorians. A thought, a terrible, impossible thought fluttered in her mind. She dashed it away for just how absurd it was.

“Yes, apprentice. The True Sith, thought extinct, exist out there.”

“Did they turn you or were you already fal—consorting with the Dark Side when you found them?” Bastila asked. She wasn’t certain exactly why she had changed the words coming from her mouth, but something within her was half convinced Revan never fell.

Perhaps he is telling the truth, she briefly considered. I will hear what he has to say.

Revan slowly drew towards her. She was beginning to stabilize once again and beyond the Sith Lord, her fellow Jedi was finding a way to break the stasis. “I will admit I was already researching methods to manipulate, control, and even destroy Jedi before the war ended. But what I discovered out there, the threat I encountered, that was enough to finalize my course. The Republic, the Jedi, they had no hope to stop it. I realized conquest was necessary and that those who used the Force had to become stronger, able to resist the worst the True Sith would throw against us.”

“Is that why you titled yourself a Sith and waged war against the Republic?” she asked. “You could have returned and strengthened them, not given into your fear and embraced the Dark.” She knew the curiosity she was displaying could so easily lead her to the Dark Side. Already, she could feel wisps of it coming from Revan and poking at her mental defenses. Yet, Bastila couldn’t deny the need to know. It was the great mystery of their time. If she could understand why Revan had done what he had, maybe she could redeem him, bring him back to the Order, and end the war.

“The Council forced my hand. I had hoped to explain what had happened, how close I had come to truly falling, to Masters Vandar and Sunrider. They would have understood, would have heard me out, and worked with me to prepare the galaxy for the coming threat. They might have even welcomed me back into the fold. Unfortunately, Vrook and Atris intercepted my message and destroyed it. I do not know how they convince the rest, but they did.

“You know the rest. And so I moved against the Jedi, to tear down that stagnant order I once belonged to. I struck the shipyards at Foerost and then at Fondor so I could shorten the war as much as possible. I will admit, when the Republic tried to retake Foerost with you, I was pleasantly surprised. It was clear then why the Republic was comparing you to me in their propaganda. And yet, I could see no way from my course. Even now, there is no other path for me than forward.”

That makes sense, Bastila mentally admitted. All of it. By the terrible logic I have come to associate with Revan, it makes sense. Those two, of all twelve members of the High Council, were the most stringent when it came to decrying Revan. She distinctly remembered the pride Vrook had when she admitted to resisting the attempt by the Revanchists to recruit her. He had then, thinking her gone to join the other Padawans still on Dantooine, raged about the five who had joined Revan. At the time, she had thought little of it. Oh, how blind I was then. That was no way a Jedi Master should act. Those were the actions of a Sith, or a childish youngling.

“They called you a Sith Lord,” Bastila determined. Everything around her, how she understood the galaxy seemed to be slipping away. “Why would they—”

“Don’t listen to him!” shouted Master Tarras. “His words are all poison and lies!” He had broken free of the stasis and was now charging Revan. The Sith Lord ignited his two lightsabers and was drawn into a furious and technical duel with the Jedi Battlemaster and his precise method of combat. Bastila stood there, watching them duel. Watching them fight, it was so easy to think that she had not the skill to hold up in such a fast and furious duel, yet it was so easy to follow their strokes and slashes, parries and jabs, and the curious ways they threw the Force into the mix.

The Fireteam was still held captive and they all had grim faces. They do not expect to get out of this alive.

“What will you do, Bastila? Who will you side with?” Revan asked over the dim of the duel. “Only one of us can survive! Will you continue to be used or will you seek the truth?” Bastila glanced around, noticing that at some point the bridge crew had departed. Her attention returned to the duel and she saw that the two were stuck in stalemate. Master Tarras, like Master Vrook, was fighting to kill Revan. Not to capture him, as they were ordered.

Bastila had been willing to overlook Vrook’s attempt to kill Revan. The Master had once trained Revan and had special permission to destroy the Dark Lord. Tarras, as far as she knew, didn’t. More so, she could not see a way through the stalemate for either warrior. She may not have their talent with a lightsaber, but she was a Sentinel. Observation was one of their greatest skills and the Battlemaster had taught her how to analyze lightsaber dueling.

A terrible realization snaked up her spine, chilling her nerves and drawing up goosebumps. She would be the one to determine who would win—no, survive. Be it Revan or Tarras, she was the one who would dictate the conclusion of their duel—and the mission.

I am a Jedi, she reminded herself, pulling her weapon to her hand with the Force. One of my masters needs my aid. I most go to him.

But, a small, traitorous voice began; you need to know what Revan knows. You wish to save the Republic, yes? Only with his knowledge and power can you do so.

Whatever Revan knows cannot be worth abandoning my principles.

You know those principles are the same ones that drove him to defy the Council and fight the Mandalorians. Who is to say that they aren’t the ones also driving this war? Beyond him and Malak, what true Sith are there? The rest have been Dark Jedi.

Dark Jedi, Sith, there is little difference between them! I am a Jedi. Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.

You heard him. He knew those words. What is to say he doesn’t still hold to them, even with his acceptance of the Dark Side? Nobody knew the True Sith survived and hid away—

No, that isn’t worth it.

Why not? How many more will die?

Revan will not end his war until he burns Coruscant.

Malak burned Telos, not Revan.

They are both Sith. Malak was clearly Sith.

You heard Revan. He may be more Sith than Jedi, but he never said he was a Sith. He would oppose them, to fight and save lives. He may not be a Jedi and he may oppose the Senate, but he fights for the people of the Republic. Can you deny that?

I… It doesn’t matter. I am a Jedi.

Think of the Masters. Vrook, Atris, Tarras. If they are Jedi, do you wish to be one still?

I… I do not want to be like them. There is a better way.

And that way is through Revan.

…perhaps…

Then your path is clear. Do what must be done. Show no mercy. Do not hesitate.

Bastila clenched tightly to her lightsaber. Tears slipped out from eyelids pressed tight. She stalked forward, igniting the dual blades of her saberstaff. The duel between Revan and Tarras had progressed to the point where it was the Jedi Master’s back facing her, not the so-called Sith Lord’s.

Tarras glanced back in a split moment and smiled. “Good, Bastila. Together we can—”

She struck. Pain, betrayal, horror, acceptance. All of those emotions were displayed upon Master Tarras’ face the moment her yellow blade pierced his heart. His breath came out in a low, whining hiss. There was a whimper and Bastila looked over to see the terror struck upon the commandos.

A moment later, the impact of her actions came down with sudden realization and she felt, through the Force, the full weight of what she had done.

“By the Force,” she mumbled, stepping away as the Jedi Master collapsed to the ground, dead. Her weapon deactivated, thumb slipping away from the ignition. “What…what have I done?” Bastila slumped to the floor, dropping her weapon and letting it roll away. She could only feel shock, or so it seemed. The Force rippled with the betrayal Tarras felt at his death.

“You made a choice, my apprentice,” Revan said. He deactivated his lightsabers and clipped them to his belt. “You had to pick between the truth and more lies. Between a false dichotomy and the full realization of who you were meant to be. I would say you chose wisely.”

“I betrayed him though,” Bastila lamented. There was no point in arguing against what was true and false. She needed to know what he did, about the looming Sith threat. He found what the Council feared, the dark threat that kept them out of the Mandalorian Wars, she realized. “He trusted me and I put my lightsaber through his back.”

“You knew he would kill me. You knew you could not live with yourself if you never learned the secrets I know.” Revan approached her, lowering his hood and pulling off his helmet. Bastila stared and gasped; jaw dropping as she looked upon the face beneath the mask. There were no signs of the Dark Side upon him. He wasn’t even pale, as she thought he would be. No, instead his eyes were the blue older Padawans on Dantooine would swoon over and his skin was the shade of olive all Deralians shared. “That, more than anything else, was the most difficult choice you have ever had to make. Know that you made the right one.”

Bastila glared at him. She drew her lightsaber back with the Force, yet didn’t ignite it. “How can you say that? I just went against everything I have ever believed in.”

Revan’s face softened with concern. “If that were true, I doubt you would have done as you did. There is so much I need to tell you and teach you. Will you join me? Will you help me save the galaxy from evil beyond imagining?”

He stood there, maybe two or three paces away. It was a small enough distance that she could strike and disable him. And yet she did not do that. There was only one option for Bastila Shan at that moment. She had chosen this fate, and thus she would see it through. Slowly, she rose onto a knee, her weapon in the hand upon the ground, and bent her head in supplication.

“I…I pledge myself to you, Revan.” Bastila hesitated, swaying on her knee. “And your teachings. My master.”

“Good. I foresaw this before you even stepped aboard, Bastila. The path of balance is more difficult than being either a Jedi or a Sith.” He paused and she looked up. “Malak was unable to do it, letting his passions get the better of him. The Jedi cannot teach it, for it is anathema to them. If you truly wish to walk this path, you must trust in me.”

“I understand.” She glanced at the troopers and asked, “Will you spare them?”

Revan turned to the commandos and asked, “Will any of you follow General Shan and defect? Do know that you have my thanks for handling the forces I sent at you. They were a growing threat I needed culled. Your commander will face many threats in the months to come. She will need talented and trustworthy soldiers to ensure her safety. There is only so much she can do and I will soon reform my Force-sensitive troops to cull those who have fallen too far to the Dark Side.”

The three troopers were released from Force stasis and landed on uneasy footings. They glanced at each other. Bastila realized that those three had been fighting together for quite some time, for they eventually came to an unspoken agreement. The Duros said, “As long as we continue to serve directly under General Shan.”

“Good,” Revan said. He then activated his personal COM. “Admiral, seal the hangar with the Republic shuttle and then head down with a security compliment.” He paused, reaching towards Bastila’s mind. She shared the pilot’s name and Revan smirked. “An old friend of yours is down there. I’m certain he’ll enjoy seeing you again. Oh, and do inform him of what became of his son while you’re at it.”

“O-of course, my Lord. What has become of the strike team?”

“Everything went according to plan, more or less. Did any of the troops survive or capture Jedi?”

“No, my Lord. They are all dead. Crews are already clearing the stairwell and cleaning bots will be sent through shortly afterward.”

“Good. Do see that the Jedi bodies find their way to Coruscant and that includes those here on the bridge. Including their lightsabers. That will be all, Admiral.” With that, Revan cut the link.

He turned back to Bastila. “Come now. I should get you settled and then the galaxy must be made aware of what has happened today. The war has been decided, whether the Republic knows it or not.” Revan then outstretched a hand.

She nodded, took his hand, and rose to her feet. “Of course, master. Lead the way.”

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?