Chapter 2: Youth’s Forgotten Lore
Where am I?
Away, where Malak can’t hurt you.
Memories surrounding me. Me. Revan. My life. Is this what people see when they die?
Don’t die, Revan. Please, I’m begging you.
It’s so hard, Bastila. I want to. You’re here with me. I’m done. I fulfilled my promise. I’m sorry I couldn’t do better.
You’ve done well and you will do better. Don’t leave me. Not now. I love you.
No fair. I want to die, but I can’t. I can’t because you said so.
Stay with me as long as you need. Whatever you do, just stay.
Can I at least see my memories?
Whatever you want. Just stay. Please.
They’re not pretty. Not pretty like you.
I don’t care, Revan. You’re beautiful and you’re all that matters.
My Princess...
*****************
... The Jedi Academy prided itself on self-control, an immaculate image, and rigid discipline to the Light Side. Clad in miniaturized Jedi robes, the cute, blonde haired girl made quite a picture going up against two of three precepts. Around the Academy’s awesome fountain she danced, carelessly frolicking and ignoring the haughty glances others threw her way.
The little girl kicked a rock as she quietly sang to herself, “Bored, bored, boooooored, bored...”
“If you’re so bored, I have plenty of chores for you.”
She gracefully yelped and landed on her behind. “Master Jolee!” she gasped, her big green eyes watering and her lower lip quivering.
The aged man grunted and folded his arms, unmoved by the display. “We’ve got some new residents coming and Nasiri could use an extra pair of hands in the kitchen. After you’re finished, you can show some of them to their rooms.”
Kitchen duty? That cut into what little private time (a.k.a. play time) she had. New people coming? That signaled another one of Master Vrook’s long, boring, pre-supper lectures. And then having to show those new people to their rooms? Well, not bad if Jedi didn’t wake up at the butt crack of dawn. Sleep... precious sleep... LOST!
“But Master Jolee-”
“Don’t Master Jolee me, Revan, or do you want to help Nasiri with breakfast tomorrow?”
*****************
“So, umm, what’s your name?”
The blonde haired girl glanced back at her two companions, a brother and a sister. The boy was big, a full head taller than either girl, but he seemed nice enough, soft-spoken and everything. A good amount of hero worship lingered in his gaze, and for the first time as a Jedi, the blonde felt proud of her status.
So the boy was alright, alright enough for her to smile and say, “I’m Revan.”
The girl? Not so alright. Unfazed, she turned her nose up. “Just Revan? Don’t you have a last name?”
Contrary to her brother, the little brunette had a stubborn fire in her eyes. She seemed like the type to do before she thought, already garnering Master Vrook’s ire by sneaking bites of food in during the windbag’s speech (not that Revan didn’t respect a bit of rebellion, herself doing the same thing only more discreetly and hence not getting caught). Revan didn’t like those kinds of people.
They reminded her of herself.
Turning the question around, Revan planted her hands on hips and asked, “What about the two of you?”
“I’m Malak Shan,” said the embarrassed boy as he tried to rein his sister in, “Shush! This is Bastila Shan.”
“Don’t shush me!” Bastila yelled. “Don’t listen to her just because she’s a stupid Jedi!”
As luck would have it, Master Vrook rounded the corner in time to catch the part about “stupid Jedi.” His already permanent disapproving scowl deepened, his menacing stride quickening to the pint-sized disturbance of the Force.
Ignoring both Malak and Revan, Vrook fixed his most intimidating glare at Bastila. “Would you care to repeat that, young lady?”
Maybe those widened eyes struck a chord. Maybe the thought of subjecting new blood--especially potential playmates--to Master Vrook was too much to bear. Maybe Bastila was the pitiable kind of child. Maybe Revan was crazy (“The most probable answer,” according to Master Jolee).
In what would be her best Bastila imitation ever, Revan puffed her chest out, squeezed her voice that few intervals higher, and boomed, “Don’t listen to him just because he’s a stupid Jedi!”
Revan spent the next three days contemplating her words under the harsh Dantooine sun and the freezing Dantooine moon.
*****************
The place: the Dantooine Jedi Academy training yard. The culprits: Malak on the ground surrounded by knick knacks and Revan tucked inside an outcropping housing the cleaning droid... an outcropping which was ten feet above Malak.
Pitter patter went a wrench after it nailed Revan on the head and fell back down.
“Ouch! Watch it, Malak!”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
“Hand me the bigger thingy.”
“The wha?”
“The thingy! That thingy!”
“You mean the vibroblade?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I dunno, Revan. We’re going to get into serious trouble if someone sees us.”
For the umpteenth time, Revan hung her head down and sighed. She massaged the bridge of her nose and chose her next words carefully. “Malak, what were we suppose to be doing?”
“Cleaning the training yard?”
“Yes, and what do we want to be doing?”
He thought for a second. “Not... not cleaning the training yard?”
“Exactly. So hand me the vibroblade, let me pry the droid door open, and I can program the thing so it does the work for us.”
Shrugging, he tossed the sharp weapon up to his friend. Revan let out a bloodcurdling scream as the blade flipped end over end before imbedding itself through the droid door... exactly two inches from her face. Joy for them, no one heard her.
“Hand, Malak! Hand! Which part of ‘hand’ don’t you understand?!”
Geez. Nice kid but a few cards short of a Pazaak deck. After wiping the sweat off her brow, Revan caught an strange sound emanating from behind the droid door.
“Dweet, dooo. Dweet dweet.”
Hmph, wonder what that was suppose to mean.
“Droid under attack. Initiate self-destruct sequence.”
Oh, that’s what “Dweet, dooo. Dweet dweet” meant. The explosion blasted the door off its hinges and sent a slightly scorched Revan plummeting on top of Malak. An alarm went off and Jedi flooded the training yard, lightsabers, blasters, and other impromptu weapons in hand.
Revan spent the next two weeks in the infirmary while Malak had a week to contemplate his actions under the harsh Dantooine sun and the freezing Dantooine moon.
*****************
“Malak says he’s sorry.”
Groggy from her medication, Revan nodded and slurred, “s’ok.”
Honestly, how those two got into fiasco after fiasco Bastila had no idea. Last time they set Master Vandar’s room on fire and today Malak almost flattened Revan by accidentally opening a crate of rations on top of her.
Ever curious, Bastila cocked her head and asked, “What were you doing in the kitchen?”
The muffled explanation didn’t make much sense, but she maintained eye contact and nodded like it did. Her own master, Master Vrook, had been around the area and heard the loud crash. According to him, he saw Malak frantically digging a twitching Revan out of the ration pile. Only quick thinking and Force Healing snatched the blonde from the death. Because Malak had to spend the next two weeks under the harsh Dantooine sun and the freezing Dantooine moon, he sent Bastila with his apologies.
She had to wait until midnight to sneak into the infirmary.
“Master Vrook says Master Jolee should keep a better eye on you.”
Maybe it was the time of night or the meds, but Revan rolled her head in Bastila’s direction and mumbled, “Vrook’s a prissy prude.”
Before she could stop herself, Bastila giggled. She immediately felt bad, not only because she laughed at her Master but because Revan’s comment resonated so strongly with her. Weren’t the Jedi above pettiness? Master Vrook wasn’t the most agreeable person, but he was a fair and stern teacher.
It’s just... sometimes, no matter what Bastila did and how well she did it, she couldn’t please Master Vrook. His picky critiques kept her up more than one night, tears streaking down her face. She followed his every demand, meditated as long as he wanted, and even stayed an arm’s length from her big brother (and by extension, Revan). What did her adherence to his rules get her? A whole fat load of nothing!
Even in her semi-cognitive state, Revan sensed Bastila’s turmoil. A few extra years of Jedi training and long hours with the ever mercurial Master Jolee gave her a talent to read people. She covered Bastila’s trembling hand with her own and smiled. “Whatcha sad fo’? Masta Jolee said Jedi arr people too.”
“But we’re not suppose to hate our Masters.”
“Vrook’s stoopid. Dun notice nuthin’. Been holed up here too long...”
Ok, medicine kicking in now. Before she passed out, Revan hurriedly finished her last thought. “Dun know he hasa smart gryl here.”
*****************
Ahhh, Padawan. Revan trained long and hard to achieve this rank and fall onto the bottom of the Jedi totem pole (as opposed to being the dirt the totem pole sat on). Bastila and Malak were soooo jealous of her new sparkly lightsaber. Goodbye kitchen chores and hello... housekeeping?
“Hurry up! I have to be at a Council meeting in thirty minutes.”
“Master Jolee, I can clean faster with my hands.”
The old man thwacked the back of her head with his datapad. “The purpose of this exercise is to fine tune your Force abilities, not finish first!”
“Wait, won’t I finish first because I’m the only one cleaning?”
Another thwack. “Less talk. More work.”
Revan rubbed her sore spot and refocused on making her Master’s bed. Thankfully, he didn’t thwack her anymore, and upon completion, he nodded in approval.
“You’ve got some real talent, Padawan. Keep this up and every bar in the galaxy will want your cleaning services.”
“Great,” she sighed, rolling her eyes, “There is no emotion, there is only dirt...”
Thwack! “Don’t mock the Jedi code!”
“Sorry.”
“Now run along, youngster. Your flunkies await you.”
Wooohooo! Freedom! “Thank you, Master Jolee!”
As she ran out the door, he shouted, “Don’t be late for tomorrow morning neither!”
Around the bend and over the tables, through the corridor and past the yard, down the hill and across the field stood Bastila and Malak. Master Vrook worried to no ends that his pupil associated herself with the Academy’s biggest troublemakers, but what Master Vrook didn’t know he didn’t have to hear about. In Revan’s not-so-humble opinion, Bastila needed people who reinforced her self-esteem and let her cut loose. Among the many things Master Jolee went on and on about, one of his biggest points was the balance of control and restraint.
Control meant channeling emotions. Restraint meant stifling them. There was a time and a place for both, but to rely on one equated to walking on one leg: stupid and impossible.
Funny how stupid and impossible summed up Vrook, the specialist in restraint.
Malak put his big arm around Revan’s shoulder and squeezed her nose. “Done for today?”
“Done for today,” the blonde confirmed. “Now, the townsmen tell you anything?”
“Roving Kath Hounds, stolen datapad, lost child--the usual stuff.”
Per her normal routine, Bastila folded her arms and frowned. “Revan, Malak, we shouldn’t be out interfering in others’ affairs, especially without our Masters knowing.”
Mimicking Malak’s moves, Revan threw her lanky arm around Bastila. “Come on. Great power, great responsibility and all that good stuff. We’re righting wrongs and we’re getting experience! We’re folk heroes, attending to the small things other Jedi don’t take their time to notice.”
“I’m not comfortable with-”
“Aww, Bastila, don’t rain on our parade!” Revan lowered her voice and tempted, “Remember last time? You’ll get to use your Battle Meditation.”
Took the brunette two seconds to make her decision. “Fine, but if we get caught, you guys dragged me along.”
“Duly noted,” laughed Malak. “Onward, Jedi!”
*****************
Bastila liked meditating alone. Sure, in theory one could meditate anywhere since it required tuning out one’s surroundings and focusing on intangible forms, but Bastila never felt comfortable being so vulnerable around others. So, she did most of her quiet contemplation in her room or here, an hour’s walk from the Academy.
And today, she had much to think about.
Malak followed Revan’s ascent to Padawan, yet Bastila herself remained mired in Master Vrook’s training. She heard praise about her command of the Force, about her Battle Meditation, about her prowess with the lightsaber, but the praise got her nothing. More and more, Revan and Malak were traveling out of the Academy and living their own adventures. They’d regale her with tales of desperate battles, heartbreaking tragedies, and uplifting triumphs. They’d talk of different worlds and cultures, all just a few days apart. They described how many throughout the galaxy held the Jedi in high-esteem and treated them almost like royalty.
Stories like those could make a girl jealous. Come on, she trained harder than either of those two buffoons and spent as much time here as Malak. When could she go out and help the galaxy? Wasn’t that what being a Jedi was all about? What was the point of leaving her here to train for an eternity? Seemed like Master Vrook didn’t have anything more to teach her, instead resorting to being annoyingly critical of her.
Bastila, your left heel is out of position.
Bastila, you are seated wrong.
Bastila, your room is a mess.
Bastila, spend about six hours meditating on top of the ten you just finished.
Bastila this, Bastila that, Bastila’s wrong, Bastila lacks discipline, blah, blah, blah.
Hmph. He probably kept her around to feel better about himself.
No, no, no, this won’t do. Insulting her Master? No, very bad. Bad Bastila. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no...
“Forget it,” she sighed to herself.
So much for meditation. Bastila picked up a stick and started idly etching lines into the dirt. All her life she wasn’t good enough--not good enough for her mother, not good enough for her father, not good enough for Master Vrook. Only Malak and Revan made her feel good enough, and guess where they were? Somewhere more interesting than the stupid Dantooine sun and the crappy Dantooine moon.
Being a Jedi would be a lot easier if once in a while someone told her “Good job” or “Thanks” or “You’re awesome.” That led Bastila to think about Malak and Revan’s rank, which brought her down the road of Master Vrook’s stubbornness, and well... yeah, thinking in circles again.
She threw her branch into the bushes. A dull thud and angry growling startled her. Soon, the growls grew, and all around gleaming red eyes began to appear and track her movements.
“Kath Hounds,” she gasped while fumbling for her lightsaber.
Then the dark realization hit her: she forgot her weapon at the Academy. The beasts smelled her heightened fear and stepped into view. Five hounds, all foaming from the mouth, all looking like they hadn’t eaten in days. She fought Kath Hounds before, but today, their claws seemed extra sharp, their movements a hint faster, and their visages much more sinister.
All at once, they jumped at her, each hoping to be the first to taste fresh food. Bastila summoned the Force and used it to augment her jump. She sailed above her predators, but a lucky swipe caught her leg and sent her tumbling to the ground. The one in the back howled and closed in for the easy kill, but a simple Force Push threw him into his pack.
Now would’ve been a good time to run, but Bastila landed funny and did something bad to her already bloodied leg. As she struggled to stand, the Kath Hounds moved to surround her, now convinced this prey might not be as easy as they had imagined.
One of Master Vrook’s lessons echoed through Bastila’s mind: “Never let the enemy truly surround you. Let them think they do, but always leave someone off-balance. Whether escape or attack, your next move should stem from the weakened front.”
She used the Force Push again, this time knocking the biggest hound to the ground. The sudden move surprised the others, and they backed off to let their pack leader recover. She bought herself time, but time to do what? She had one good leg, no lightsaber, and five Kath Hounds after her. A mind trick, perhaps? A Force shield? Maybe they’ll stop bothering her-
An impatient beast shunned the pack tactics and soared at her. Caught in her panicked thoughts, Bastila couldn’t protect herself,instead resorting to throwing her hands around her face and screaming. She braced for impact--and death--but it never came. A split second later, she heard the hound cry out and fall; the familiar sound of a lightsaber filled her ears.
When she managed to pry her eyes open, three of the five Kath Hounds were already dead. The remaining two looked to be going that way. With viciousness and grace Revan never displayed in any of their escapades, she twirled her lightsaber around, beheaded one monster, and threw her weapon at the big pack leader. Bastila thought her friend missed, but when the thing shuddered and split in half, let’s just say she didn’t.
Scared and spent, Bastila collapsed, but lithe arms caught her and laid her down. She felt Revan drawing on the Force, and suddenly, the shooting pain in her leg dissipated. Wind against her open wound stopped stinging. If her racing her heart would slow down and her eyes would stop watering, then she’d feel pretty close to a hundred percent.
“Bastila, did they hurt you anywhere else?”
She shook her head. “N... no. Th... tha... thank you, Revan.”
The Padawan held her, softly whispering encouragement and assurances. “What were you doing here?” she asked.
“Meditating,” Bastila answered, her voice steadying. “Wanted to be alone.”
“If I had to see Master Vrook as much as you, I’d want to be alone too.”
Despite herself, Bastila laughed. She wiped a tear from her cheek and smiled at Revan. “Thank you, Revan. I really mean it.”
“Just... be more careful next time, ok?”
Odd. The bubbly, mischievous, air headed Revan made a disappearing act. Insecurity and fear marred this Revan; for a Jedi who saved the day, she looked too distraught. Wasn’t often Bastila laughed before the blonde and all this angsty stuff dragged Bastila down.
Well, at least it worried her.
“Revan, what’s wrong?”
Silly girl wouldn’t show her face and turned her head away. “Nothing,” she muttered, “You won’t understand.”
She tried to extract herself from Bastila, but the brunette would have none of it. “You’re not getting away that easy. Come on, what’s wrong with you? One second you’re my Jedi Knight with shining saber and the next you’re acting like Malak.”
Revan opened her mouth, thought better of her next statement (a rather heartless dig against her absent best friend), closed her mouth, then opened it again when her brain caught up. The overall effect made her look like a fish out of water, and for some reason, Bastila found it endearing. Endearing and very, very funny.
The clueless expression turned into a frown. “Hey!” Revan shouted with not a small bit of indignation, “Don’t laugh! You almost died! I could’ve lost you if I came back any later and you know I-”
Weirder and weirder. Bastila raised a brow. “I know you what?”
Tearing herself from those soul-searching eyes, Revan left the brunette all alone and stomped off. Not to be outdone, Bastila picked herself up and darted after her friend, who for a big, sulking baby stomped quite fast. Winded and appropriately worked up, Bastila spun Revan around and prepared to give her a good lecture lifted from the most infuriating pages of Master Vrook’s tomes.
That was before Revan pressed her lips against Bastila’s.
*****************
“Master Jolee, you can’t leave!”
The old man grunted but continued putting things away, his once overstuffed, messy room reduced to a sterile emptiness. He acknowledged his apprentice but ignored her comments, focused instead on packing.
“The Jedi Council was wrong,” she seethed, hoping to get a response from her Master, “They can’t do this to you. They weren’t there!”
“Revan, hand me my satchel.”
The dutiful student complied but continued her fuming. “Just because you used Force Lightn-”
“Enough,” he cut her off. “The Jedi Council has spoken. As a young Jedi, you shouldn’t question the decision of those wiser than you.”
“The man killed your brother and his family!”
“Listen to me, Revan, and hear me well because I will not repeat myself. All these years, I’ve taught you as best I can, and my goal was not make you the best Jedi, but rather the best person. Sometimes, the ends do not justify the means, and when you cross the line, you have to be a good enough person to accept your punishment and move on. I made a mistake, especially by dragging you along, and I have to accept my punishment.”
“But-”
“No excuses, Revan. Foolish pride and pitiful excuses have caused the universe’s greatest tragedies. Your duty as a Jedi--as a living being--is to hold yourself accountable for all of your actions. Do you understand?”
“What if-”
“Do you understand?!”
The blonde fell silent and nodded.
“Good. Help me carry my books.”
As the last of his things went into the ship, Revan hugged her erstwhile Master. “Where will you go, Master Jolee?”
“Away. Somewhere quiet like Kashyyyk.”
“Kashyyyk? Why Kashyyyk?”
The old man shrugged. “I like Wookiees.”
*****************
Great news: Bastila finally made Padawan. With the combined voices of Master Zhar, Master Vandar, and the scores of townspeople the three of them helped back in the day, Bastila pushed her Master to acknowledge her status. Guess the old windbag had no more excuses to hold her back and acquiesced.
That’s why Revan and Malak were speeding back from Telos. Wouldn’t do to miss Bastila’s big moment.
Bastila...
Locked in hyperspace, Revan dozed in the plush pilot’s chair, daydreaming. She brushed her lips and thought back to that fateful day. The kiss changed their relationship, turning it from a sibling connection to a romantic passion. Officially, Jedi weren’t suppose to feel so strongly, especially with each other. Lure of the Dark Side and all that, but Revan was sure Bastila had nothing to do with the Dark Side. If neither party held any interest in the Sith then neither had a chance of giving in to temptation, right? Besides, wasn’t love a beautiful, redeeming thing? Weren’t the Sith against beauty and redemption?
Yes, yes, and yes, but neither Revan nor Bastila were quite ready to shout about their union from the highest point of the Academy. For the moment, they kept their relationship quiet, reveling in a secret only they were privy to. Less complications that way. Would you imagine what Master Vrook would say if he found out? Not a good picture.
Still, Revan sighed, at peace and content. She always thought the Jedi Code didn’t suit her, but now, after finding herself an anchor, it resonated with her. Her Force powers grew exponentially; her decision making process excelled; her focus became unparalleled. So fast her advancement that she heard rumblings of the Jedi Council considering her to become the youngest Jedi Knight ever.
Of course she looked forward to returning home, but the joy of seeing Bastila warmed her heart. If she played her cards right, Bastila might even be allowed to accompany Malak and herself on their journeys. Now that would be a sight...
“Wake up, sleepy head.”
Revan bolted up in her chair and glanced at Malak. He seemed... off. Nervous. She checked the ship--no attackers, no instrument problems, and still hours away from Dantooine.
“Uhhh, where’s the fire?”
Malak shifted from foot to foot and cleared his throat. “Revan, I need to tell you something.”
This couldn’t be good. Malak had strange but consistent mannerisms accompanying whatever he said and Revan knew every one of them by heart. The shifting foot to foot meant news but the clearing of the throat meant urgent. Times before, these two gestures played harbinger to horrible developments like Master Jolee’s dismissal and him breaking (Yes, BREAKING) her lightsaber.
Revan repeated what her brain already told her. “Oy, this can’t be good.”
“No, no, no,” he said. “I wanted to... to...”
“Spit it out, Malak. You know there’s nothing you can’t tell me.”
He motioned for her to stand up, which she did. He cup his hands around hers, which she found strange but let slide.
“How long have we known each other?”
Revan threw her head back and laughed. “My my, at least ten years.”
“And all that time, I’ve wanted to tell you one thing, but I never got the courage. I still don’t have the courage now, so I’ll have to show you instead.”
He leaned in and expected to feel Revan’s soft lips on his, but he got a bunch of hair. That and an earlobe.
“No,” Revan said, removing herself from Malak. “We... I... just no. No, no, no, no.”
Talk about falling on your face. Between the surprise, Malak managed a feeble, “Why?”
“There’s someone else.”
Someone else? “Someone else?! Who else is there, Revan? Are you just lying to me because you don’t want to hurt my feelings?!”
“No, Malak, there is someone else.”
“How? Who?!”
There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no chaos, there is serenity. “Calm yourself. This is no way for a Jedi to act.”
“I am calm!” he shouted, smashing his fist against the bulkhead. “We’re practically joined at the hip! After your Master left, there is no other man in your life!”
Fuck serenity. “You are not my life!”
“Tell me who is!”
In a fit of rage, she let it slip. “It’s Bastila, ok?!”
*****************
“Do you love her?”
“I do, Malak, with all my heart.”
Seated at the Academy training yard, Malak bowed his head. What a tangled web: wanting the same woman his sister loved. He could see a million ways of breaking them up, but he couldn’t do something like that to Revan or Bastila. Revenge wasn’t the Jedi way, nor was harming those closest to you. To make matters worse, the blonde had avoided him for a solid month, always having to be somewhere he wasn’t. His sister hurt for them both since she became their go-between, and today, she said as much.
Brother and sister came together, and for the first time in a long while, not joined by Revan. She’d become more than family to them, and to not have her here just didn’t feel right. Bastila approached Malak with a plea for peace; Malak steered the conversation to Bastila’s feelings.
And now that Bastila’s affections were sufficiently hammered home, they had to finish about Revan.
“Do you... hate her?”
“No,” sighed Malak. “She is my greatest friend, and I would much rather have her friendship than nothing at all.”
From ten feet above where the cleaning droid was housed, Revan jumped out and pounced onto Malak’s unsuspecting back. He ended up on his face while she sat on him. “Then it’s settled!” she shouted triumphantly. She hopped up and extended her helping hands to him. “Friends again?” she smirked.
After spitting out the dirt in his mouth, Malak grunted and accepted the gesture. “Friends, but only if you stop landing on me like that.”
“I don’t know. That’s something I can’t promise.” Bastila decked Revan on the back of the head. “Ouch! Fine, I promise. Sheesh Jedi Princess, you happy?”
Bastila smiled sweetly and decked Revan again just for fun.
- To be continued...