What does a Mentor need most when interacting with their student?
"Patience," Revan mentally repeated once again, summoning all his composure.
One padawan is normal for the Order... A norm that most mentors handle perfectly without outside help. But a "padawan" is also a generator of an infinite number of problems. And Revan had... five such generators.
Not even a day had passed, and the "younger ones," in the persons of Anakin and Reena, managed to "cut themselves on their own swords"... according to the official version given by the padawans to their mentor. HK had a different explanation for the several burns on the children's bodies: "Juvenile meat bags with suicidal tendencies decided to inflict life-incompatible injuries on each other with their newly created weapons and end their worthless lives, so as not to poison the daily lives of the great Creator with their existence."
And this, despite the direct prohibition of sparring with combat swords! The verbal dressing-down arranged had no effect, and the injuries mysteriously reappeared a few days later. This time, the children hid from the droid assigned to them... or so they thought. HK, with a sense of duty fulfilled, transferred the recordings of his sensors to the Creator, which indicated that the padawans had once again decided to "play" with their swords. The children were eager to feel "adult" and stage spectacular battles, like those demonstrated in the sparring matches of Risa, Maul, and Revan.
Since words had no effect, the Mentor applied a more effective method, tripling the workload in their lessons. Considering that lessons with HK and Maul were also affected, the padawans wailed by the end of the first week. Unauthorized sparring ceased. They simply didn't have the strength for it.
However, the "younger ones" were not the only ones with problems.
Despite their age and rich experience, even Maul and Risa managed to get into trouble of their own making. The Zabrak managed to get involved in a dispute between smugglers on Nar Shaddaa, where he was carrying out his mentor's mission to find suppliers of heavy weaponry, bypassing Republic legislation. And it didn't seem to be his fault that a fight broke out between the major factions of the "Smuggler's Moon" over an order that promised a very large profit to whoever could deliver everything necessary for the modernization of the "Interdictor." "Especially gifted" individuals, and not in terms of Force abilities, even risked pressuring the client, represented by the red-skinned Zabrak... with the logical fatal outcome. Because of this, the Hutt Cartel, for which the "losers" turned out to be working, was shaken. Somehow, through Jabba, the incident was smoothed over. But someone from the "offended" leaked information about the order to the Justice Corps, which is why Maul suddenly appeared on the wanted lists in Republic space. They also tried to include "Obsidian" on the list of ships banned from entering the Core and Mid-Rim territories, but they did not dare to interfere with the diplomatic status issued on Coruscant.
Despite the obvious failure on Nar Shaddaa, Maul managed to find a contact who agreed to arrange a meeting with representatives of "Republic Systems Sienar," part of the "Santhe/Sienar Technologies" conglomerate. As it turned out, someone from this company had collaborated with the Zabrak once before... or rather, with his teacher. The cloaked ship, created for Maul, was, according to him, unique, fast, and well-armed. It was a pity that Maul left the ship in Sidious's hands when he decided to join Revan. But what's done is done.
At one time, "Sienar" developed a prototype of the "Interdictor" and its unique equipment, including gravity well projectors, and Revan hoped that the company's archives would still contain blueprints. This would significantly simplify the process of repairing and rebuilding the ship. However, time will tell if there will be any benefit from contact with "Sienar."
As for Risa Farr, her behavior was becoming increasingly alarming. It wasn't even about her overly intrusive... desire to seduce Revan, making unambiguous hints and burning with her intentions in the Force. From the first day they met, Risa seemed at least strange to the former Sith. A Sith who craves to serve is nonsense! The code itself, which perfectly reflected the essence of Sith teachings, spoke of the path to freedom, not slavery! Here, however, was a show of humility, permeated with falsehood. That's why he was in no hurry to let Farr get close to him, simultaneously testing her endurance and mental defenses, trying to find out the name of her true Master. If Revan didn't like fanatics, he could tolerate them, valuing them primarily for their usefulness, but he couldn't stand hypocrites. Risa was useful, albeit relatively. Primarily not even for her Force abilities and skills, but for her connections with the Sith, who, judging by all accounts, had also decided to "play" with the Republic and the resurrected Dark Lord himself.
And lately, either Farr's endurance faltered, or her skills failed, but Revan managed to feel the echo of the Mandalorian's true emotions and thoughts. And he did not like them. There was no particular threat in what Revan learned, but Risa Farr's thirst for power burned almost more fiercely than in the black heart of his old friend, who had betrayed him at the most crucial moment. And if he betrayed, then this hypocrite would betray too.
Perhaps it would be worth throwing the potential threat overboard... but besides the name of her true Master, Farr might have other secrets. For example, something that would help decipher the records from those holocrons that the girl kept in her cabin... until Revan stole them near the wreckage of Malachor. Although "decipher" is not quite the right term. The former Sith could handle that himself. However, the records had been edited by someone, and repeatedly. Revan had only recently managed to study them in detail and encountered some contradictions in the process. Did Risa know the contents of the holocrons? She never showed any interest in those records all this time... Were they not needed? Or were they given specifically?
Who is she really?
Torturing a gifted person is difficult, and the former Sith remembered this well. The Force helped protect the mind from external invasion or chemical exposure. After all, Revan himself had been captured and tortured more than once, but he never revealed anything.
Physical injuries, for an adept of the Dark Side, could even become a source of strength. This galaxy couldn't withstand a second Sion. He would have to endure this lurking kinrath.
Along with thoughts of datakrons, thoughts of Bastila returned.
Almost two weeks had passed since the events in the ice caves. Obsidian was heading to Serenno, hurrying to deliver his master to a meeting with Count Dooku. However, instead of contemplating the upcoming conversation, Revan had been sitting in his cabin for several hours, hypnotizing himself with a hologram of his wife, long gone to the Force. The miniature figure of Bastila Shan, woven from light, swayed to the music softly playing from the datapad. It gave the impression that the hologram was enjoying the melody and almost dancing... but it was only an imitation of the behavior of the real Bastila. The holocron did not possess self-awareness and was merely a repository of knowledge. And its keeper... only an echo of its creator.
"Judging by the gloomy expression on your face, the reason the Force has once again pulled me to the 'Obsidian' is your restless spirit," the voice of an old acquaintance sounded next to the former Sith.
"Hello, Mitra," Revan greeted his guest, without taking his eyes off the hologram.
He knew she would come. Her visits had become such a frequent occurrence aboard the 'Obsidian' that Revan had grown accustomed to the feeling of her presence. This time, he had even hoped for her visit. Because he needed to talk to someone... but in this galaxy, everyone with whom he could discuss his worries was dead.
"I'm glad to see you, of course, but, you know, ghosts don't have much to do. And the persistent call in the Force is as annoying as a swarm of Sullustan locusts," Surik grumbled in response, sitting on the edge of the table.
Revan did not react to his friend's actions in any way, continuing to look at Bastila's hologram. He was gathering his thoughts, trying to piece together what was troubling him. And there was a lot of it.
And besides the uncertainty regarding Risa Farr, the strange bond with Tira Nomad, the crowd of reckless students, and the vague threat to the galaxy, there was much else that disturbed the former Sith. It couldn't be said that everything had piled up at once. No. It had all been accumulating gradually, but only now, having left Mandalore and slowed down a bit, Revan had found time to deal with what he had previously postponed. For example, methods of resurrecting the gifted, which Skorj had mentioned.
Yes, he had studied the records of the old Sith, among which there was much written by the damned Vitiate himself. Even a thousand years after his death, the Emperor continued to poison Revan's life. After all, the methods that the almost immortal Lord had used a thousand years ago... required something that the former Jedi would never resort to. Even for the one who meant everything to him. After all, she would not have wished to return at such a price.
Vitiate's experiments, one way or another, echoed the records from the Trayus Academy. And this caused an unpleasant feeling of regret and anxiety. After all, Vitiate had gained access to the knowledge of this academy, partly through Revan, whose mind the immortal Sith had temporarily subdued. It was only comforting that the Emperor had achieved immortality long before the former Jedi's visit to Dromund Kaas.
Mitra could not read Revan's thoughts and therefore waited for his explanation regarding his condition... But he remained silent.
"Don't tell me you're still suffering over the past?" Mitra rubbed her temples, unable to bear the silence any longer.
"Partly," Revan chuckled.
The reaction was so unexpected that Surik almost choked on her prepared speech. The ghost was already preparing to re-educate her old friend, who was mired in the past... However, it seemed this would not be necessary.
"Explain in more detail?"
"I found information on how to bring someone back from the Force into the world of the living. Not the process itself with a detailed description, but information about the rituals of the ancient Sith who managed to pull this off," Revan said, wincing slightly.
"But... wasn't that what you were trying to find? To bring Bastila back? Wasn't it?" she didn't understand the reason for her old friend's lack of joy at such a significant step towards fulfilling his cherished desire.
"That's right," Revan nodded.
"Then what's wrong?!"
"Everything is wrong," the former Sith chuckled with a sad smile.
For a minute, silence reigned in the cabin as Mitra tried to discern something in her former mentor.
"I don't understand..." she finally said.
"And I didn't understand at first. I didn't understand why something was constantly distracting me from my search... Why the picture wouldn't come together... Why I... less and less... Why for the first time in several weeks I looked at her hologram, whereas before not a day passed without wishing her... image... good night?" Revan glanced at the miniature figure of the long-dead woman woven from light.
"You're learning to move on..."
"It's not me learning... I'm being taught!" the former Sith said sadly.
"Taught?"
"And taught, without even asking my consent... Although, I'm starting to understand why now," Revan shrugged.
Mitra didn't yet grasp her old friend's train of thought, but something had clearly thrown him off balance.
"I studied those records that Skorj and Farr provided me. And the method... Or rather, the rituals described in the records... Violence against the Force – you can't call it anything else."
"You... tell me more..." Mitra swallowed hard, although she perfectly understood that Sith rituals were never harmless by their nature.
Revan deactivated Bastila's hologram and summoned one of the datakrons to his hand, which contained knowledge from the Trayus Academy.
"These records mention two similar rituals. 'Mind Transfer,' developed by Tulak Hord, and 'Force Transfer,' authored by Lord Ergast. And if the first is suitable for transferring a mind from one living body to another, then the second allows absorbing the very energy of the Force, which makes it possible to lock even a Force Ghost within a physical shell. These same rituals are present in Vitiate's records. The data is incomplete, but it allows for a general picture to be formed."
"And you are afraid of the possible price? Will it be necessary to turn into a monster like the one Darth Vitiate became, who took the name Tenebrae?"
"Yes. Despite the fact that I am ready to give everything to bring Bastila back... I don't think she would agree to the sacrifice of even one sentient being... let alone an entire planet."
Upon mentioning "a planet sacrificed," both thought of Nathema – a world devoid of life and even a trace of the Force due to the lust for power and immortality of one Sith.
"Do you think... something similar will be required?" Mitra asked with anxiety.
She was sure that Revan would never dare to do what Tenebrae had done. But her friend's desire to bring Bastila back bordered on obsession.
"I don't know... There's not enough detail. Only descriptions, fragments of reasoning... additions from some Zash and Nox, but already in Skorj's records. One can say with certainty only that the goal of the rituals was always the forced transfer of mind or Force without the consent of the second participant. Violence against the essence and the Force itself," Revan shook his head.
"And you think that the fact that you couldn't find time to study the datakrons for a long time, as well as all the distractions – are caused by the fact that the Force does not want you to use this knowledge?" Mitra guessed.
"I don't know what it wants... And if it wants anything at all... I don't even know what I want myself..."
"What about your plans to strengthen your position and your promise to Yoda?"
"I know what I have to do... but I don't know what I want... A strange feeling. I haven't felt so... lost in a long time. As if I woke up again aboard the 'Endor's Spire.' Who am I? Why am I?" the former Sith tilted his head back.
"You are Revan. I can list your virtues and military exploits until morning, but you should remember them yourself. The only thing that distinguishes you from the one I remember from the Mandalorian Wars is this inexplicable melancholy and excessive sentimentality!"
Revan chuckled at this characterization.
"I was sentimental before. Did you forget my tender attitude towards the mask?"
"And now you're joking... What's happening to you? Where are these mood swings coming from... Oh... right. You're in a teenager's body... and a half-blood Miraluka, too," Mitra suddenly slapped her spectral forehead.
Revan raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"If you're talking about hormones, I control myself perfectly. Meditations help with that."
"No, not just that. Miraluka have certain... peculiarities. It's somehow related to their ability to see through the Force. The brain processes incoming information a little differently and also picks up the general, so to speak, 'background' of the environment," Mitra gestured around the cabin, hinting at the ship's sad history.
"You mean, the surroundings are just making me melancholic?"
"Not entirely, but it amplifies the effect of self-suggestion."
"Suggestion?"
"At least, that's how one of my companions described it to me – Visas Marr. She was an extremely impressionable person. She constantly drove herself to despair, which her Sith mentor openly exploited," Mitra continued.
"Wait... you said Visas Marr?" Revan interrupted her.
"Yes, what's wrong?"
"Hmm, the Force has a good sense of humor."
Mitra fixed Revan with a stern, uncomprehending gaze.
"The body in which I was reborn. Its name is Mizar Marr."
"And you think?" Mitra's eyebrows shot up.
"I no longer believe in coincidences," the former Sith shook his head.
Surik nodded in agreement. With the Force, "coincidences" are never simple.
"Well, it's nice to know that Visas had descendants," Mitra shrugged.
"Uh-huh, and it's unpleasant to realize that I'll have to find a new way of self-control, since meditations turned out to be ineffective," Revan grumbled.
"And you still think that your absentmindedness is due to the Force's machinations?" the ghost smiled.
"But you, it seems, are sure of otherwise?"
"Anything is possible. But have you considered that perhaps you simply like Tira as a woman? After all, you are a living person, not a droid. Sympathy for a girl is normal..."
"No," Revan cut her off.
"Self-deception again?" Mitra smiled with a hint of malice in her eyes.
"More like common sense! I can understand the influence of Force bonds. I can accept it. But when the number of coincidences crosses all boundaries... Tira Nomad is not Bastila and never will be able to replace her. It doesn't matter how similar they are..." Revan said irritably.
"And yet, you compare them."
"Let's close this topic, Surik," the former Jedi growled.
The ghost looked sternly at her old friend, but reluctantly nodded.
"As you wish. Then, what about those rituals? Is there any specific information?"
"No. I need to look for the original sources... but there will be problems with that," Revan shook his head, readily seizing upon the new topic for discussion.
"What are the problems? Tulak Hord is buried on Korriban, isn't he?"
"Yes, but his tomb has already been looted ten times. You were there yourself, weren't you?"
"Only at the entrance, which was already blocked by then," Mitra nodded in agreement.
"The second place where answers could be found is the Dark Temple on Dromund Kaas, but after the bombings, it's doubtful anything can be found there either."
"Many things on that planet look worse than they are. The Citadel itself is still standing. It's worth looking, don't you think?" Mitra suggested.
"There's reason in your words. And we haven't examined Ergast's tomb... There's not enough information for a clear plan of action."
"Now I recognize you."
"I'm just focused. The thoughts haven't gone anywhere anyway," Revan shrugged.
"And about the information... Did Skorj say anything else?"
"He's secretive, like all Sith. But there are suspicions that Risa is somehow connected to him. Do you know if he had any students?" the former Jedi tried to find out more details.
"I've only visited Dromund Kaas a couple of times in the last fifty years. I don't recall any students, but he wouldn't show them to me anyway. I don't know what you've decided, but I don't kiss and make up with someone who plunged a blade into my back up to the hilt," Surik snorted.
"And I never thought of it."
"And about Farr... You seem quite confident in your conclusions, right?"
"She was trained by someone who knew me very well. Specifically 'knew.' And at the same time, they also gave her 'Obsidian' – my ship. So, either there are other immortals from that era... or someone's holocron is involved..."
"Or a ghost," Mitra added.
"Or a ghost," Revan agreed.
"Am I under suspicion?" Surik clarified.
The former Sith thought for just a moment. He had asked himself this question before, but had concluded that Mitra had no reason for it.
"No," he answered confidently.
"Thank you for your trust," the ghost smiled.
"And therefore, I have a request for you. Keep an eye on Risa. She has very strange intentions, which someone has taught her to hide well."
"She seems obsessed with you."
"And partly that's true... But inside her burns a thirst for power... all-consuming. And I want to know what to expect from her."
"Understood. I'll keep an eye out," Mitra nodded, trusting her old friend's judgment.
"Thank you."
"How are you? Feeling any better?" Surik smiled, noticing Revan's changed mood.
"A little. There's still a lot I don't understand... but I know a bit more now and can find a solution. Or at least manage my mood swings."
"Find a girl, and some of your problems will disappear," Surik chuckled.
"I'd rather find an exorcist," Revan said menacingly.
"Oh, I'll thank you for that," Mitra shrugged with a smile.
Revan laughed. Genuinely. His heart felt lighter after this conversation. After all, sometimes you just need to talk things out so that problems don't seem so overwhelming. It was a shame Revan could only confide in a ghost...
"Are you going to proceed with the plan?" Surik inquired.
"Yes, and along the way, I'll be studying the data, as well as looking for traces of the mentioned rituals. They're bound to be energy-intensive... but I need details."
"So, the next stop is Serenno?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, may the Force be with you, old friend."
"May the Force be with you, Mitra."
The ghost dissolved into a light mist, leaving Revan alone with his thoughts. There was much to consider.
Patience. Revan had a complicated relationship with this virtue. During his training at the Temple, the future redeemed knight was distinguished by his patience and discipline, absorbing knowledge with unprecedented speed. His diligence was enviable. However, when the Republic needed help in the war with the Mandalorians, Revan conveniently forgot about his "patience," disregarded the Council's prohibitions, and went to dispense justice according to his own judgment.
Then, a new phase of his diligence and considerable patience manifested during... the conquest of the Republic. Revan acted methodically and carefully, creating his Empire from the conquered worlds. Not every commander could capture a planet without damaging most of its population and infrastructure.
Then came the betrayal... And a new race against time, where there was no room for patience... or did Revan himself no longer know how to stop? All the way to Nathema and captivity by Niiriss? And again, patience in an attempt to get into Scorch's mind.
Again, haste in the attack on the Emperor and... long years to learn the value of patience while a prisoner of Vitiate.
Yes, Revan's relationship with patience was definitely not going well. Perhaps that's why he got the most restless beings in the galaxy as his apprentices!
This was exactly the thought Revan was mulling over as he dealt with another prank by his padawans. They had actually thought of practicing deflecting shots from a real blaster! Where did they even get it?! And where was HK looking... Although... it was strange that he himself didn't want to participate in the experiment. Then there would have been more ghosts on the ship...
"So, who will tell me whose empty head came up with the bright idea to take a combat blaster and shoot?" Revan asked his apprentices, rubbing his forehead.
Both padawans stood with their heads bowed. Rina's chest was bandaged with bacta. It was the Zabrak girl who took a shot from a DL-33. Fortunately, it was a glancing blow!
"Mine," the girl said quietly.
"Ours. It was a joint idea," Anakin interrupted his fellow apprentice.
It seemed the pair had started to bond and cover for each other... Which was both good and bad. Good that they supported each other... but bad that bad ideas would now flow from one head to another, and two fools were a dangerous force...
"Aren't you going to add anything?" Revan, frowning, turned his head to HK-47, who was posing as a monument to an unknown droid by the wall.
"Responsible statement: The meat sacks were under observation. The trajectory of the shot did not threaten life," the iron maniac responded readily.
Droids were not felt in the Force, and Revan could not sense HK's mood or thoughts. However, the former Sith was ready to swear that the galaxy's best assassin, assigned to nanny duty, had simply found a loophole in his Master's order. After all, if the "little meat sacks" destroyed themselves, then the need for supervision would disappear! And only some vague logical conclusion that his Master wouldn't like such an outcome prevented HK from giving the padawans heavy turrets for training...
"Alright. The situation is clear," Revan nodded to his thoughts.
Apparently, the load on the padawans was too low, since they had time for idiotic plans. He should have ordered HK not to reduce the training pace after their last stunt. And he should have given the droid a new task so that he would loosen his chains before he went into spontaneous activation of killer protocols. And with this initiative and active bunch of kids, even the patient Revan was ready to snap.
So this is what you are, irony in the Force's execution?
"So, here's the deal. I was going to take you with me to Serenno, but now I've changed my mind. Until you learn humility and patience, your feet won't go beyond this ship."
"But, Master!" the padawans exclaimed, either indignantly or pleadingly.
"If I am truly your 'Master,' then you must obey and learn what I am trying to teach you, you blockheads!"
"But we already know a lot..."
"You, Anakin, have been training for less than a year, while Rina has been training since she was five, if I'm not mistaken."
The Zabrak girl nodded.
"Therefore, you can't even talk about the extent of your knowledge. Yes, you learn quickly, but don't get carried away. You haven't even reached the level of a trained youngling yet."
This was not entirely true. Yes, the general level of preparation was indeed lower. It was physically impossible to cover the entire foundation of the first years of training in a few months. However, in terms of lightsaber mastery and the basics of Force use, Skywalker was already on par with Rina. He lacked precision in techniques and concentration during meditation. The latter was a separate issue. The guy was still subconsciously afraid of deep meditation due to the sensory shock he had experienced, and therefore did not delve too deeply.
"Rina, don't you dare be proud that you've just trained a little longer. You're a match for each other."
"Yes, Master..." the padawans lowered their heads.
"Since training at a relaxed pace doesn't suit you, we'll change our approach."
"Master?"
"Now the number of sessions will double. Twice a day meditation lessons, the same amount of physical training and basics of handling energy weapons. The lessons will still be conducted by HK-47. Yes, and in Maul's absence, physical training will also be by HK. Then sparring, followed by training concentration and precision in the use of the Force. I will conduct these."
"Hooray!" the children exclaimed in unison.
"We'll see what you say after the first lessons. HK, make sure they are alive and without permanent injuries. Otherwise, you can use your imagination."
But after these words, the children's faces turned pale. Anakin already knew what HK was capable of. Rina had learned it very recently, but she could imagine what the mechanical maniac was capable of. After all, until now, he had been restrained by the order of no permanent damage during training... but now...
The droid almost sparked with delight. Yes, it wasn't an assassination mission, but still... how long he had waited for something like this. Now he could stimulate the meat sacks not only with words!
"And yes, HK, I have another errand for you. So come see me after you're done," Revan added.
"With enthusiasm: Yes, Master!"
"Well, kids, may the Force be with you."
By a completely random coincidence, it was time for the morning physical training session. Anakin would never have thought he would miss Maul so much...
"Arren Kai was right. A padawan should either be tired or smart," Revan muttered to himself, leaving the training hall.
He would take Tira with him to Serenno. It would be useful for her to get some fresh air. He just needed to sort out the issue of her weapon. The girl had promised to think about converting her staff into a single blade, since it would take a lot of time to fully learn the Jar'Kai technique, and the Mandalorian had to be ready to train a lot. And she still had to learn to control her Battle Meditation abilities... when, due to her character and lack of patience, even regular meditation was difficult for her.
"No worries... I got myself some apprentices," Revan massaged his forehead with a familiar movement.
Meanwhile, another inhabitant of the "Obsidian" was impatient. Risa Farr couldn't find her place. All her attempts to attract Revan's attention ended in failure. She was not at all interesting to him in the way Risa herself needed! And this was a key moment of her plan...
There were no other options. She had spent a lot of time studying materials from the academy on Malachor and the records her Master had given her. There were many ways to become stronger, but none were suitable. She was not capable of performing a large-scale ritual like those known to the Great Emperor. She lacked the knowledge and talent for Alchemy. Only hope remained for the idea based on Darth Zash's plans. But it required a connection... and preferably a blood connection.
But... would it work? The mentor was wiser than her, and he had calculated everything. It should work! She just needed to interest Revan... Attract him...
Although... She could also approach it from another angle. If Risa could boast of anything, it was endurance and willpower. And willpower was the key factor for Ergast's ritual.
"Yes, this will definitely work! He won't be able to resist..."
At that very moment, two decks above, in her cabin, Tira broke out of meditation and grabbed the hilt of her blaster, sensing an approaching danger. And the source was very close!
A second passed, then another... a minute... The sense of threat didn't pass, but its source never appeared. Nomad tried to understand what was happening to her, but all this mysticism related to the Force was new to her. Revan had once mentioned that during meditation, one could often feel future events and know about danger before it appeared. But was this such a case?
And what was this threat? For some reason, Tira had no doubt that it was all somehow connected to the second Mandalorian on board. Or was it just jealousy playing up?
Regardless, she should talk to Revan about it.
After standing ready for battle for another minute, Tira returned the blaster to its holster and sat down on the bed. The training should continue. Perhaps the source of the threat would become clearer...
**Chapter 59. Forebodings of the future should not interfere with the present**
The "Dawn Eagle" hurtled through hyperspace, covering parsec after parsec and striving to deliver its captain to his destination as quickly as possible. However, it couldn't be said that the captain himself was in any hurry, as the route turned out to be much shorter than initially assumed, which the unusually reduced crew was only happy about.
"So, we're flying straight to Naboo?" Tira clarified after Revan told her about the minor changes.
"Yes, Dooku will meet us in orbit. More precisely, aboard the diplomatic ship 'Snow of Pantora.'"
"Is that the hulk that the Senate allocated to its commission, which was supposed to investigate the legality of the Naboo Guard's aggressive actions towards the 'peaceful' ships of the Trade Federation, which had simply arrived for negotiations?" the Mandalorian chuckled.
"No, that hulk never even left the port on Coruscant – the hyperdrive died. This vessel was kindly provided by Naboo's neighbors in the sector. They were returning diplomats to Pantora anyway, so they brought the commission too," Revan shrugged, internally marveling at the degree of "degradation" of the Senate as the Republic's main governing body.
Not only did the State not protect one of its regions from the encroachments of another, but it was also trying to portray the defenders as aggressors. And all because the Trade Federation had more credits and good connections in the Banking Clan and Techno Union. But even here, the Senate managed to screw up. Firstly, the commission included diplomats who were somehow connected to Naboo and its current government. And secondly, the commission's funding got lost somewhere along the way in one of the secondary "commissions for controlling the funding of commissions," which turned the inspection itself into a farce, and a very short one at that. There were many more third, fourth, and so on, but for the successful "failure" of any inspection, the first two would suffice. A biased composition without a drop of funds was at the mercy of the host party. It was both laughable and tragic.
If a similar inspection threatened Mandalore, Revan wouldn't have to worry about possible sanctions from the Senate. They would be waiting for the commission's results for years.
Count Dooku, who scheduled the meeting immediately in Naboo's orbit, seemed to think the same. In his opinion, their negotiations with Queen Amidala would be much more beneficial in the presence of the so-called "commission," as many members of this failed inspection would somehow be interested in Revan's proposal.
"And how much longer do we have to fly?" Tira asked.
"About an hour," the girl received a very concise answer.
The blue-skinned girl was torn by mixed feelings. On the one hand, they were alone with Revan for the first time in a long time... not counting the astromech droid. And perhaps, some decisive action should be taken towards the "object of interest." After all, Nomad's conviction that Revan should be her chosen one had not disappeared. But, remembering how Risa Farr flew around the training hall, smashing everything in her path with her brainless head after making an unambiguous offer to her Mentor, she absolutely did not want to repeat her fate. And she absolutely did not want to be like that slut... at all!
And what then? What to do? Wait?
"What are you thinking about?" Tira flinched at Revan's sudden question.
"Nothing..." she tried to brush it off, but quickly realized the futility and foolishness of the attempt.
Her Mentor read her in the Force like an open book. Fortunately, he couldn't read her thoughts... or didn't want to.
"And if you're honest?" the former Sith chuckled.
She needed to quickly get away from the sensitive topic and definitely not spill everything openly!
"About the saber I got in the cave. And about your offer to remake it," Tira tried to hide one uncomfortable topic with another.
And the move worked. Revan couldn't help but react to a question about her training... or related to his long-dead wife.
Yes, Tira knew that the saber she found on Ilum had once belonged to Bastila Shan. Everyone who could, from the living to the ghosts of the long-dead, had enlightened her about it. And at first, Nomad didn't know how to react to this. Chiss beliefs were somewhat more pragmatic than those of most peoples in the galaxy. They didn't believe in reincarnation... And Tira herself didn't feel like anyone else... or was it supposed to be like that?
Lucky coincidences – yes, all peoples understand and accept this... well, except for the Jedi with their "There is no luck, there is only the Force." Mandalorians see nothing wrong with taking advantage of an unexpected advantage. And Tira's similarity to Shan was nothing else in her case!
"I'm not insisting. It's entirely your decision. But, in my opinion, it would be more familiar for you to use a single blade, freeing up your second hand for a blaster. But if you still decide to train with a staff... be prepared for me to beat knowledge of several forms into you through sweat and blood, based on which we will form your variation of the combat style," after a short pause, Revan seemed to have taken the bait, but his skeptical gaze showed an understanding of the true state of affairs.
Tira played along... The Mentor didn't pressure her and generously changed the subject.
"What about Jar'Kai, which you told me about?" Nomad feigned sincere interest... especially since she was indeed interested.
"This technique was created for two sabers, but not specifically for a staff. And although it's easiest to adapt it to a two-bladed fighting style, its study will take a lot of time. In my memory, none of the lightsaber 'forms' provide for the use of a staff. So you'll have to learn directly from those who know how to handle this not-so-simple weapon," the former Sith spread his hands.
"So, my teachers are you and Maul?" Tira assessed the options.
Revan nodded.
"I'm not going to scare you or dissuade you. But it is my duty as a mentor to warn you of the upcoming difficulties."
"You'll teach me anyway, no matter what I choose, right?"
"Right," the former Jedi exhaled with a chuckle.
"What's so funny?" Nomad asked grimly.
"Nothing. I just thought about how pragmatic your approach to learning is," Revan replied.
Mentally, the former Sith lamented the multitude and certain eccentricity of his apprentices. He was lucky to have such ones... Even in those distant times, four thousand years ago, he didn't have a single "normal" padawan or student. There was hope for Anakin... but here too, there was a miss with the lack of standard initial education at the Temple. Although... there was also Rina... who, however, was not for nothing handed over to him for training. And, judging by the fact that HK had to be assigned to the young talents, the Zabrak girl possessed the level of "madness" to join the ranks of the "Dark Lord's" apprentices... even if he was a former one.
Tira hummed indefinitely, either accepting such a vague answer or catching echoes of her Mentor's true feelings.
"And what about the saber? I thought you would treat your... wife's weapon more reverently," Tira faltered, not knowing how best to express herself.
However, she didn't have to invent anything. Revan finished for her.
"Wife. Bastila was my wife. And, as far as I know, she remained so until her death, although she could easily have found someone else after my disappearance. After all, when the whole galaxy considers you a 'widow,' no one will condemn you... Except perhaps your own conscience and a hidden hope for a miracle... for the will of the Force..."
Revan took one of his lightsabers from his belt, the one with a black and gold blade. The former Jedi's gaze was briefly filled with sorrow and sadness, but almost immediately they were replaced by tenderness, and a barely perceptible smile flickered on his lips.
The blade, as if woven from darkness with a golden trim and rare flashes of the same shade along the blade, burst from the hilt with a quiet hum.
"Her crystal is in this saber. Although its appearance has changed... although its properties also have changed... I still feel her warmth and light in it."
As if reacting to Revan's words, the "gold" of his saber became slightly brighter, momentarily giving those around a ghostly hint of what this saber had been like in the distant and glorious past. Tira even thought that the blade had completely changed color to sunny yellow... but it was just an illusion, born of her own mind, exhausted by emotional torment.
Revan, meanwhile, shifted his gaze to the staff that was now secured on Tira's belt, hanging along her thigh, slightly behind the holster of one of the blasters.
"The saber you found, I last saw it on board the 'Obsidian'... on the day of Malak's betrayal. And that time, this blade was trying to take my head off."
Tira looked at her find and frowned again. It seemed her connection to Bastila was not such an advantage on the path to the "final goal."
"On that day, not only I changed. Bastila herself ceased to be that naive padawan who proudly accepted the mission to capture the Dark Lord of the Sith, without even thinking about the possible problems. What the Council did to me broke her confidence in the infallibility of the Light adepts. She saw in them a treachery that even the Sith would have envied," Revan chuckled.
Tira listened silently to her Mentor's revelations, realizing that he, apparently, had told very few people about those events. When the former Sith suddenly turned his piercing gaze on her, Nomad almost flinched, but, to her credit, she managed to maintain an outward composure. Which was useless against a gifted person who sensed everything perfectly through the Force.
"You, as a follower of Mandalorian traditions, must understand that a fight can serve not only as a way to kill an opponent but also as a good opportunity to study him."
Tira herself didn't understand how she nodded, agreeing with Revan's words.
"Her talent for Battle Meditation allowed her to 'read' her opponent very well. After all, to take advantage of a vulnerability, you need to understand where to look for that vulnerability. And our fight on the bridge of the 'Obsidian' allowed the young 'heroine' to get to know me well. So well that she even began to understand my motives. And when she no longer saw in my face only a mad tyrant fallen to the Dark Side, the Council does what, in her eyes, was almost worse than cold-blooded murder. To rewrite my personality, to set me against the fruit of my own labors, to make me hate, and then to kill my best friend... even if he betrayed me once... Oh, perhaps it was an excellent 'Sith plan'... executed by the Jedi Council. Ironically," Revan smiled with sadness in his eyes.
Tira didn't know what to say. She had heard this story from Revan, but without such details. And even more so, until today, Nomad had not thought about how Bastila felt.
"But she accepted the Council's decision, didn't she?" the Mandalorian said, sighing deeply.
"She did," the former Jedi nodded in agreement. "In the hope that the decision was justified. And that the Council was not actually imitating the Sith, but merely... Bastila could not even continue this 'merely' even years later. And, as subsequent events showed, her doubts were prophetic. The Order fell, destroying itself. You can later ask Mitra about the last years of that agony in which the stronghold of the Light side died, stubbornly refusing help from those who could provide it and with enviable zeal continuing to injure itself again and again."
"But... this saber somehow ended up on Ilum," Tira, trying to sort out the tangle of new information, clung to the inconsistency.
As I said, on the day of our first battle, Bastila changed. She changed internally. And for a Force-sensitive, that means a great deal. Her weapon suddenly stopped suiting her. Like a child who has outgrown their clothes, Bastila's blade became uncomfortable. It was a symbol of her beliefs and, heh, her blind faith in the Order's dogmas. A reminder of what almost became her greatest mistake... her intention to kill me... Or rather, her desire to defeat the monster I appeared to be in her eyes, at the Council's instigation. But after that day, I was no longer such a monster. A connection formed between us, quite literally. The Force Bond bound us together, allowing us to peer so deeply into each other's minds and souls that the very possibility of our enmity was hard to imagine.
Tia nodded, suddenly understanding what Revan was saying.
"She didn't want to constantly reopen old wounds. Is that why she got rid of the staff?"
"Yes. She made arrangements with some knight acquaintances and, without the Council's knowledge, joined a group of younglings heading to Ilum."
Revan chuckled mentally, remembering how angry Bastila would get if he reminded her of her "first lie to the Council," which marked the beginning of her "fall." The joke was indeed inappropriate. After all, Bastila could never forget the incident of her actual turn to the Dark Side under Malak's torture. She was saddened by the fact that she couldn't defend herself... couldn't hold out and succumbed to the temptation to avoid pain and suffering, compromising her principles. Even after Revan managed to pull her back to the Light, the power and authority that Shan felt for a short time as the Dark Lady beckoned her every day. The darkness never fully let go of Bastila, but she also didn't strive to return to her image as the Council's "naive tool." Revan taught her to live in harmony with the Force, accepting all shades of her own essence, including jealousy, greed, and pride, which Shan had so carefully tried to suppress during her years of training in the Order.
The former Jedi sighed sadly. Now was not the time or place to delve into memories again.
"And how do you feel about this saber?" Tia swung the long hilt of the lightsaber staff in her hand.
"Not at all. It's just a weapon, albeit one with a rich history. A museum exhibit, put on public display," Revan replied indifferently.
"But you are connected to it."
"I am connected to many things. And the Force binds us all together. So... this saber is just a memory. Neither good nor bad."
Tia looked sadly at the blade in her hand.
"But I would still advise you to rebuild it, at least by adding the possibility of splitting it into two separate sabers. That way, you'll have more room for action and training," noticing how Nomad's mood had changed, the former Jedi decided to cheer her up a bit. "The crystal was in a Force-saturated place for a long time, which has slightly densified its structure. This makes the blade itself more stable, and visually thinner, which will give you an advantage in combat with lightsaber wielders. Moreover, it's easier to channel the Force through such a crystal, infusing the blade with it. In short, all pluses. The only minus is the primitive design of the hilt. It's still a staff assembled by a padawan."
Tia smiled slightly and nodded.
"I'll rework it... as soon as I figure out how to do that at all..."
"Anakin has the necessary materials and guides. Study them, and I'll explain any unclear points and nuances," Revan said encouragingly.
"Thank you."
The conversation between the Master and the student was interrupted by the trill of an astromech. R2 announced their imminent exit from hyperspace.
The wreckage of the droid control station, destroyed over Naboo, still circled the planet, hindering navigation and creating extra problems for the pilot of the corvette "Snows of Pantora," assigned to the diplomatic wing of the Pantoran Assembly. Due to a strange coincidence... or perhaps due to the negligence of the Senate treasury secretariat, which preferred to count and distribute profits rather than allocate funds for diplomats' needs... in any case, whatever the reason, the fact remained: the Senate commission was forced to accept the hospitality of the Pantorans, who offered to give the diplomats a ride to Naboo.
The funniest part was that the Naboo government could have cleared the orbit in a week, but they didn't have the right to do so until the commission studied all the circumstances of the Trade Federation ship's destruction. At least Revan found it amusing. And HK, the former Sith, was sure, would have appreciated the irony.
Tia, on the other hand, was slightly nervous, not knowing how to behave with Dooku and the other diplomats. While she could ignore the lingering animosity towards the Count among all true Mandalorians after Galidraan, she found it unpleasant to realize her own lack of diplomatic skills. After all, she had been trained as a soldier of the Dominion and a warrior of Mandalore. And while the former implied courses in political science, diplomacy, and rhetoric, so that future officers wouldn't mumble like banthas in the presence of aristocrats, the latter... well, it was better not to mention Mandalorian diplomacy.
Cheering up his student once more, Revan confidently led the "Eagle" to approach the Pantoran ship, a heavily modified version of the Corellian CR70. A "Consular-class" ship with the insignia of the Great Houses of Serenno was already docked to its port side. It seemed Dooku was already here.
"Snows of Pantora, this is Dawn Eagle. Arrived for a meeting with Count Dooku and Senate diplomats. Requesting approach vector and docking port number," Revan hailed the Pantoran ship, as the Count's message mentioned the meeting was to take place on it.
Dooku intended to introduce Revan to senators or those close to them who shared the former Jedi's views on the state of the Republic.
The response from the Pantoran ship came almost instantly. They were clearly expected.
Once the docking procedure was complete, Tia and Revan donned appropriate attire... or rather, Tia wore her usual armor, adding only a cloak with the Nomad clan crest, and Revan his armor, covering it with a dark cloak that, however, matched the Order's traditions. Having finished their preparations, Tia and Revan proceeded to the starboard airlock. R2 remained aboard the "Eagle," just in case.
On the "Snows of Pantora," they were met by Dooku, on whose face, besides a polite smile, no emotion could be read. However, the Count was not alone. Slightly behind him, the former Sith noticed two humans and a rather young Pantoran woman, whom one would rather call a child.
"Knight Van, I am pleased to meet you again. Lady Nomad, you are as magnificent in your warrior spirit as ever," the Count greeted Revan and Tia courteously and reservedly.
Tia grumbled something resembling gratitude and a reciprocal greeting in response. But the diplomats' attention was still focused on Revan, and she was apparently mistaken for a bodyguard.
"Count Dooku, it is an honor to be here," the former Sith replied with a formal bow.
"Allow me to introduce my companions and, of course, the ladies from the Senate commission."
The Count began to name the people beside him one by one.
"Ruzh Organa, advisor to Senator Organa from the Alderaan sector," the Count introduced a tall, red-haired woman in a moderately richly embroidered but strict blue dress with a turquoise cloak.
The Alderaanian nodded in greeting. Her age was difficult to determine from her appearance, but Revan had a strong feeling that in terms of diplomatic negotiation experience, this woman would not yield to Dooku.
"Ravi Darcefo, advisor to the Senator from the Sumitra sector on economic matters," the Count introduced a middle-aged, fair-haired man.
Looking closer, Revan noted that he had misidentified the diplomat's race. His pointed ears revealed him to be a native of Tustra, meaning Ravi was of the Seph race. Revan had met them little in his eventful past. Tustra tried to avoid conflicts and remained neutral during the Mandalorian Wars... which was a big mistake, considering the distance to Mandalore was negligible on a galactic scale. In terms of military power, the Seph race couldn't boast anything special. Their focus was elsewhere. They were more interested in art and medicine, and it was with achievements in these fields that Tustra primarily traded.
"And finally, Rayo Chuchi. Do not let her youthful appearance deceive you. Lady Chuchi will take over as senator from Pantora next year, and for now, she serves as an advisor to her people's current representative in the Senate."
The blue-skinned... girl... did not impress Revan. The poor thing was clearly uncomfortable among her esteemed colleagues, causing her to try to curl up into a ball and become as inconspicuous as possible, which made her visually even smaller. Her gaze was almost always directed at the floor or her own hands... Clearly not the behavior of an experienced diplomat or a senator's advisor. More like an assistant with the rank of "fetch me this... go on a useless inspection." However, everyone started somewhere.
Such a composition of the commission spoke volumes. For example, it indicated that the Senate did not take the case seriously, and no one had particularly delved into the composition of the inspection team. The Alderaanian and the Tustran were clearly there at Dooku's invitation. The Pantoran seemed superfluous and had probably ended up here by accident, but the Count decided to involve her in the upcoming conversation as well.
Meanwhile, it was Revan's turn to be introduced.
"Allow me also to introduce you to the Jedi Order Knight, Avner Van, and his companion, Tia Nomad. Currently, Knight Van serves as the representative of Duchess of Mandalore, Satine Kryze, and is also authorized to conduct negotiations on behalf of the management of several enterprises in the Mandalorian sector within the framework of this meeting," Dooku introduced him.
Revan had to make some effort not to let an expression of extreme surprise show on his face. He had not been warned about such a turn of events. Even Tia flinched at the information announced. Fortunately, her shock was hidden by her helmet.
However, everything was yet to be sorted out, and one could not lose face in such company. He had to live up to it.
The welcoming courtesies took another good five minutes, after which the Count invited everyone to the negotiation hall on his ship, the "Honor of Ordina," named in memory of one of Dooku's illustrious ancestors. And, it must be admitted, the atmosphere on the Serenno "Consular-class" ship was strikingly different from the interior of the Pantoran CR70. It wasn't immediately obvious what it was, but something evoked a sense of... status and wealth? The interior finishing materials differed from the standard for ships of this class. For example, decorative inserts of Serenno bronze oak on the doors were unlikely to be found on a regular corvette. Carvings, the heraldry of the Great Houses of Serenno, even Hutta fabric drapery - all spoke of the ship's belonging to a representative of the aristocracy. And Dooku fully lived up to this title.
During a short and rather quiet conversation on the way to the negotiation hall, Revan learned the details of his new "sudden status." As it turned out, Dooku had arranged with Satine and, more surprisingly, Fett, to grant Revan the right to conduct negotiations on behalf of Mandalore and its largest enterprises, financed with the support of the government. However, all powers were limited to the trade sphere and, with some reservations, diplomatic alliances. Thus, Revan could conclude preliminary agreements on behalf of several enterprises whose production facilities and representative offices were located in the Mandalorian sector. He could also participate in negotiations with representatives of other worlds and sectors to establish diplomatic ties. No specifics... just a status to formally not be superfluous at the upcoming meeting. However, all the necessary documents and credentials, certified by the Duchess and the new Mandalorian, were present.
Well, that was a good help. If he could interest Alderaan, Naboo, and Pantora in an alliance, it would open up a number of specific prospects, both in terms of trade and political influence. After all, Alderaan had considerable weight on the galactic diplomatic stage even during the Old Republic. As for Tustra... their medical technologies were sufficiently developed to compete with much larger conglomerates. One of their medical shuttle projects was worth it! And, above all, the current king of Tustra, Alaric, was a good friend of Grand Master Yoda. This was also worth considering in negotiations.
The next day, the commission was to visit the royal palace in Theed and hold an official meeting with the Queen of Naboo. A mere formality. They had long since made their decision on the situation in favor of Naboo and were lingering in orbit only while awaiting Dooku's arrival. As a neutral party, the commission had no right to abuse Queen Amidala's hospitality... to their great regret.
"It's a shame we learned about the route change so late. I would have brought Anakin with me," Revan said so that only Tia could hear him.
A break was declared in the negotiations, so the former Sith and his companion stood aside from the actively conversing diplomats, but they didn't want to attract unnecessary attention.
"Why?" the Mandalorian replied just as quietly.
"He's practically a national hero-liberator on Naboo. And there's a certain sympathy between him and the young queen. It would have been a good help in the negotiations," Revan shrugged.
However, this would clearly not be the last meeting with Amidala. The Force clearly indicated this, and therefore the former Sith was calm. Everything was going according to plan.
Meanwhile.
Estran Sector.
Horuset System.
A small shuttle, unremarkable in appearance, was heading towards the only habitable planet in this desolate sector. Once, bloody wars raged here, and the long-suffering world itself was repeatedly subjected to orbital bombardments, leaving not a single intact settlement on its surface.
It was a dead world, long forgotten and abandoned by all. No valuable resources, no vegetation... nothing. A lifeless world could not attract the inhabitants of the galaxy in any way.
But the shuttle pilot didn't care. She knew where she was going. And she needed this particular planet.
"Moraband," she uttered the name of the world, marked on the current Republic maps, admiring the blood-red sunrise of the local star over the brown-and-brown desert surface of the planet.
The woman confidently piloted the shuttle along a route known only to her, avoiding the seemingly natural terrain. In reality, under tons of sand and dust lay the ruins of long-forgotten settlements thousands of years old. She tried to find them, sometimes making several circles in search of a suspicious hill or a fragment of an obelisk peeking out from under the thick layer of soil. She navigated by a much older map than the one programmed into her shuttle's navigation system. Her route passed through landmarks marked on an ancient stone tablet compiled by the long-gone inhabitants of Moraband. She knew what to look for... but the search didn't become any easier. Thousands of years of wars and cataclysms had changed the world beyond recognition, which is why the search for the route took almost a full day, but she managed! The Force had led her to the right place!
The shuttle almost buried its nose in the ground when the pilot suddenly felt that she had found what she was looking for. This was the right place!
As soon as the landing struts touched the sand of Moraband, the girl hurried out.
The gale-force wind, chilling to the bone, as if it were an icy wasteland, seemed to penetrate right under her clothes, bypassing all the climate systems of the shuttle owner's armor. Raised by another gust of air from the surface, the sand, like thousands of tiny blades, drummed against the mask covering the pilot's face. The girl had to pull the hood of her cloak deeper to cover the precious accessory. This mask was dear to her as a symbol... an embodiment of her aspirations. Even though it was already damaged... but the one who inflicted these damages had every right to do so. The only one who had.
The massive rocks near which the shuttle landed were mesmerizing in their monumental appearance. The winds and the scorching sun during the day, combined with the piercing cold of the nights, had turned what were once majestic sculptures into pitted stone blocks... the outlines of which could no longer even be discerned.
This place... once it was an entrance. The lost tomb of an ancient Sith Lord. No, his remains were not here... and he himself had never visited this place. But it was here that one of his followers decided to create an altar for his long-deceased Master.
And it was here that the secret of the ritual, so needed by the girl who had flown to this dead world, was hidden.
A sudden sense of danger forced the pilot to do a forward roll, avoiding the attack of some beast. A dark shadow, difficult to distinguish in the roaring sandstorm around, spread low to the ground and tried to flank its victim. But the girl wasn't going to become someone's lunch. From her rapid roll, she emerged already clutching her weapon. A scarlet blade illuminated the space around with a quiet hum, rising to protect its owner.
The beast seemed to dissolve into the sands, disappearing from view, only to silently pounce on its victim from behind. However, the Force was an ally to the pilot, so the attack was not unexpected. This time, the desert creature was unlucky, as for a fraction of a second, a lightsaber flashed in its path... but that was enough for the creature to touch the ground already separated from its head.
"Welcome to Korriban, Risa," the girl whispered to herself, calling this inhospitable world by its true name, lost in the ages.
Time was running out. Her prolonged absence from the "Obsidian" would arouse suspicion. Fortunately, there was no one to watch her now. The junior apprentices were busy training with a droid, Maul had gone on the Master's mission, and the Master himself had flown off for negotiations with the cursed Nomad.
This was a perfect opportunity to carry out her plan. But there was no guarantee that she would even survive after visiting this place. The Sith did not forgive those who disturbed their peace. And, may the Force grant that there was no one in this tomb.
If Risa Farr had known how many of her judgments about the current situation were mistaken...