Chapter 4: Angel’s Exodus
Later, stories would paint them at the helm of the Republic’s great fleet, resplendent battle cruisers, gunships, and state-of-the-art fighters following their every command. Stories, like their storytellers, were full of shit. Mandalorians besieged the Outer Rim, and the Republic, stretched thin from war, could only afford to send pitiful sacrifices to slow the attackers. Cries for Jedi assistance met the usual caution and detached wisdom, straining their relations to the fullest.
Revan and Malak stumbled into this powder keg. Two noted Jedi Knights in exile. The Republic desperate for help. With nothing to lose, the two sides came together.
Revan and Malak needed a force to return to Dantooine and rescue Bastila. They sensed the tension and swooped in to offer their services. They conveniently left out the part about them not being accepted as Jedi anymore. Kill invaders, turn ships around, get Bastila, return ships. Simple enough.
The Republic needed anything to stem the Mandalorian tide. It sensed two willing pawns and outfitted them with the best it could afford. It conveniently left out the part about the best it could afford being beat up junkers, converted freighters, and green soldiers. Meet invaders, hold them back for a little while, come up with better solution, Jedi sacrifice noted. Simple enough.
Neither party complained about inconsistencies.
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“Master Jolee.”
He almost fell out of his chair. That voice! “Revan?”
His student, the woman he considered his daughter, kneeled at the edge of his abode. With her head down, Jolee didn’t get too good a look at her, but the rigid posture, dirtied clothes, and dulled blonde hair told him of her troubles. Her friend, Malak, was nowhere to be seen.
Long, quick steps placed him towering over her but she wouldn’t look up.
“Get up, kid. You’re too young to be feeling like the universe is out to get you.” She wouldn’t budge. “Up with you! I know I’m old but I don’t look that bad, do I?”
“I failed you, Master Jolee,” she cried. “I’ve failed everything you’ve ever taught me. I didn’t take responsibility for my actions. I’m not a good person. I’m not even a Jedi anymore. I’m nothing but a mercenary. I’m sorry, Master Jolee.”
No longer a Jedi? Boy, had he been out of the loop. “Unless I’ve grown senile, this isn’t the Academy and I’m not your master. Dry your tears and get up.”
“No. I don’t deserve to look upon you. You need to know how your worthless student turned out before she leaves for her death.”
Just one crisis after another, wasn’t it? “Look at me!” He shouted so loud the surrounding wildlife ran. “Look at me!”
She shuddered and looked. Her formerly radiant green eyes held a shade of gray. Gone the youthful, mischievous face. Her lips pressed thin into a permanent frown.
“What has happened to you, child?” he asked as he forced her to stand.
“I told you-”
“Your spirit is dimmed. You look like someone killed your pet. Now you’re going to face your death? Who did this to you? What can I do?”
And the sordid tale poured out. The Republic ship. Bastila. Vrook. The exodus. The Mandalorians. The deadly gamble to retrieve Bastila. The Republic’s sorry state. Malak went on ahead to the Outer Rim battlefields while Revan insisted on detouring to Kashyyyk, her one final act of absolution before jumping into the fire.
Jolee listened but showed no emotion. By the end of Revan’s account, he set a plate of food in front of her and prepared to spin his own story, one which he hoped would save the young girl he raised.
He rubbed his weathered chin and measured his words. “Kashyyyk hides a great secret. Have you heard of the Star Maps?”
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Some days, they were commanders. Revan inspired courage in the troops. Malak contributed his battle tactics. They liberally used the Force, putting ace pilots to sleep and playing mind games on ground units.
Some days, they were warriors. Key positions, stealth assaults, defensive holdouts--so deadly their lightsabers that by the end of the first grueling year, the most hardened Mandalorian warriors cringed at the sight of their weapons.
They grew strong, powerful, and wise, but they weren’t enough. The Republic, content at the invaders’ slowed progress, contributed fewer and fewer resources to the war. The Jedi... no one heard from the Jedi. Despite great success, Revan slowly lost the war of attrition.
Farmers and merchants filled the ranks of lost soldiers. Lost ships were never replaced. Ammunition ran scarce. The soldiers fought for their planets, but even their spirit dwindled at the alarming losses and lack of assistance. Meanwhile, the Mandalorians grew stronger, more brutal. They made armor to withstand dated weapons. They threw themselves at Revan and Malak to distract and hopefully kill them. They tortured prisoners and sent the broken innocents back to their planets to serve as warnings.
This all changed when Revan and Malak discovered the Star Forge. The great complex contained technologies beyond anyone’s wildest imagination. For the first time, they could replenish themselves, even man them completely with drones. The entire automated process responded to Revan’s calls like an offspring. Cheers erupted from the weary Republic forces when the first ships floated out of the Star Forge. No more pathetic conditions. No more space deathtraps. No more cowering from the enemy.
A chance. Finally, a real chance to take back their homes.
The Sith chose this time to strike, but not through force. They used treachery, they used the soldiers, and they used Malak.
They fed starving fighters. They rescued children. They ambushed Mandalorians.
Quiet whispers made it to Malak’s ears.
Forever the follower. Not even good enough to be Revan’s lover. The lieutenant next to the general. Supreme power at his hands, only if he chose to take it. Malak fought as best he could, but after the Sith approached Revan, the last visages of Light crumbled.
The Sith, they offered their services to Revan. They claimed their numbers sagged under Mandalorian attacks, and since Revan was not aligned with the Light Side, they would help her. At first, Revan refused, but her own troops goaded her. They needed the Sith. The Sith weren’t as bad as she thought. Malak found himself agreeing, the Sith’s insidious words permeating his mind. Power blinded him, and in turn, he blinded Revan.
Against her better judgment, she accepted their help. As the war raged on, Sith dogma resonated with her. Passion. Strength. Power. Victory. Freedom. She cared not for their ways, but their Code embodied all she tried to accomplish to rescue Bastila. Somehow, she balanced the Light Side of the Force with the Dark Side, utilizing her passion to free others from oppression.
The soldiers loved Revan and followed her to their doom. The Sith cackled at her precarious balancing, quietly waiting for her to fall. Malak watched, his eyes loving but his soul marred by darkness.
Victory came swiftly and the Mandalorians scattered to the wind.
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“Malak, this title is preposterous.”
“It is a sign of power. You MUST take it.”
Revan distastefully glanced at the mask and cloak on her table. “I’m not going to let people call me Darth Revan. I’m as much Darth Revan as I am Jedi Revan. That and the mask makes me look like a droid.” She blinked and reconsidered. “A fat droid,” she muttered.
“But the Sith want to do this as a formality. You’ve driven the Mandalorians away and they want to honor you, to call you their leader.”
“Heir to Exar Kun?” the blonde dubiously asked. “I don’t think so. The Sith might not be as terrible as I imagined, but there’s still something off about them. The wise choice would be to thank them and go on our way.”
Malak sighed and patted the sturdy mask. “Just... think about it, ok? Would hate to offend our allies. They may think we’re rejecting the Dark Side.”
“Dark Side, Light Side, it doesn’t make a difference, Malak. The Force is the Force--only people who use it separate the two sides. What we choose to do with the Force defines us. Sith wish for power. Jedi thirst for knowledge. Me? I just want Bastila back.”
“The Sith can help us rescue my sister.”
Her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, Revan shook her head. “No way, I’m not getting in the middle of that one. Jedi versus Sith? No. That’s the last thing I need after almost two years of war. All I want is Bastila in my arms and I can die happy.”
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She waited a long time for this day. The Outer Rim secure and her ships in shiny condition, Revan positioned her fleet to warp back into the heart of the Republic. Of course, she had to make a stop, but she hoped it would be a bloodless one.
“Send a transmission to Dantooine,” she ordered, waiting for her specialists and drones to patch her through. The screen fizzled and crackled for a long while before people came into view. A woman, human, and she looked quite confused at how this unknown frequency managed to connect with the Jedi Academy.
“Who is this?” she asked, annoyed.
“I am Revan. I wish to speak with the Jedi Council about Jedi Bastila Shan.”
“I don’t know who you are, but you don’t just demand an audience with the Jedi Coun-”
Her voice suddenly seized up as she struggled to breathe.
Revan let her arm down and released the woman from her Force Choke. “Tell the Jedi Council to park their collective asses in front of the screen, please.”
The transmission cut for a good ten minutes before it re-established itself. Vrook stood front and center, flanked by five other unknown people. The bastard appeared as serene as ever which only irritated Revan.
“The prodigal knight,” Vrook smiled, “I’ve heard about your exploits.”
“Where’s Bastila?”
“Jedi Shan is where she is suppose to be: away from you. As the saying goes, ‘out of sight, out of mind.’”
“You wretched son of tauntaun,” growled Revan, “You dragged her out of her bed and raped her mind. You dare take the high road with me?!”
“While your devotion to her is admirable, she is much better off without an unstable emotional presence like you. She will become a great Jedi like I trained her to be.”
Her hate of him spilled over and she lurched forward in her seat to make sure he knew her rage. “Listen well. ALL OF YOU LISTEN WELL. I have fleets of battle cruisers and carriers. I have enough firepower to wipe planets out of existence. If you do not return Bastila Shan to me, I will blaze a trail of death and destruction to your damned doorstep. When I am done, I’ll be able to fit all that remains of Dantooine into the palm of my hand. Do you understand?”
A pained expression found its way to Vrook’s face. “I wished it not true, but I see now you have truly fallen to the Dark Side. We are servants of the Light, and we will not capitulate to you. We will never give up one of our own to your corrupted whim.”
So hard was her grip on the arm rest, her knuckles turned white. “Then it’s settled, Vrook. You’ve earned the wrath of the Dark Lord Revan.”
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“Republic vessels! Stand down, I have no quarrels with you.”
“Yeah,” laughed a clueless admiral, “I’ll just let a bunch of Sith flagships waddle into our space. Your kind ain’t welcome here, and we’ve got the Jedi to back us to up on that one, Darth Revan.”
Revan closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “So this is how you treat your war hero? The one who saved the Outer Rim with nothing more than the clothes on her back and a few rickety freighters? And it’s not Darth Revan, it’s the Dark Lord Revan. Get it right.”
“Enough talkin’. The Republic’s payin’ me to turn your fancy tin cans into space debris. See how you like some payload up your thrusters!”
Twenty thousand lives were lost that day, almost all of them Republic citizens.
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She looked so small under that uniform. Malak almost forgot what Revan had looked like before joining the Sith. Beneath a lone light in her quarters, this hunched over Revan looked sad, weak, and vulnerable. Good--her death quickly approached.
“Am I right?”
Snapping out of his thoughts, Malak put his hand supportively on Revan’s back. “You’re justified.”
“The Jedi Council wronged me. The Republic sent us to our doom. I should feel vindicated after every victory, but how come I don’t?”
“Maybe you’re not letting yourself feel vindication until their total annihilation.”
“Right,” she laughed humorlessly. “Total annihilation equals vindication. That sits as well with me as that Sith recruitment garbage you’ve been spending all your fucking time on.”
“Our forces are increasing daily,” he defended, “Our enemies fear us like none before. We’ll tear apart those who stand in our way and rule their fallen lands!”
Revan put her head in her hands and sighed.
*****************
“My liege, these are the captured Jedi.”
Three people. Two males, one female. They were beaten but they still looked proud. Around their necks hung a collar specially designed by Revan to dampen their Force powers. They stood together as one, unafraid of whatever the Sith had in store.
“My apprentice says you have a message for me,” said the Dark Lord.
One of the men spoke. “The Jedi Council of the Light Side wishes to express its-”
From thirty feet away, Revan closed her fist and crushed his windpipe. As he fell to the floor convulsing and spitting up blood, she turned to his companions. “Less talk. More message.”
“The Jedi Council is willing to discussion Jedi Bastila Shan with you,” the woman quickly answered.
Again Revan closed her fist. The woman’s eyes rolled into the back of her as she thrashed about. “We’re beyond discussion,” she said to the survivor. “Tell your Council: return Bastila to me. If a hair on her head is missing, I will hunt every Jedi like a Kath Hound and personally return them to the Force.”
*****************
The plan was simple. Use her animosity against Master Vrook to lure her out. Catch her off-guard with Bastila. Destroy her.
The battle took place on a decimated but strategically tenable planet. Asteroid belts hid ships. Ground troops set up early.
Early, everything went according to plan. The Dark Lord Revan showed up with an army behind her. The Jedi showed up. Vrook led the charge. Bastila hung around in the back. Laying eyes upon her, Revan carved a bloody swath of destruction to her. Bastila didn’t understand Revan was so interested in her anyway. They were friends in their youth, but that’s it. Revan gaped at Bastila, breaking off their battle as she blindly charged to kill Vrook. Bastila didn’t take kindly to someone trying to behead her Master, and she joined the fight.
Now, that’s when things spiraled out of control. Revan’s army retreated despite winning handily thus far. The Jedi converged on the Revan-Vrook-Bastila melee, only to see Vrook pull back. Of course, Revan couldn’t harm Bastila, but the same didn’t hold true in the reverse. Bastila impaled a distracted Revan just seconds before Malak’s flagship and a Republic cruiser fired on the battlefield. Despite the pain, Revan called upon her considerable power and shielded the two of them from a fiery doom. Sure she was close to her last moments, Revan relentlessly hammered at their closed bond while Bastila digested what the Jedi’s greatest threat just did for her.
The barrier between them gave way slightly, which would’ve been greeted with immense joy from Revan if a large chunk of debris didn’t almost knocked her head off...
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... Which brings us back here.
Revan, I didn’t know.
No one knew, and I wished you didn’t. My years away from you weren’t good.
You’re still you.
I hope.... and why am I feeling lighter?
I can’t hold you in my mind any longer. Our bond--I felt your pain and I wanted to comfort you.
Thank you, Bastila.
Just promise me you won’t die. I can’t see you leave again.
I promise, my Princess.
- To be continued...