This chapter’s theme is Rise! <3
And it was extremely difficult to write. I may be losing steam even though the ideas are still there. : P
Part 8: The Mire
One of the first ‘tasks’ given to her was to compete in the Mandalorian battle circle, a tournament competition that was basically the final step in their combat training.
They just wanted to see if they could beat the former Jedi. “The battle circle is only reserved for real warriors. Your Jedi tricks won’t help you here – not honourably, at least. Jedi rely too much on their vaunted powers. They lose touch with their hands and feet. Without your Force would you be even a match for the lowliest of Mandalorian warriors?”
Mical shuffled indignantly, but she raised a hand to calm him. “That doesn’t bother me. I accept.”
The Force was all around her, rushing through her. It would almost be a greater challenge to shut it out than to fight these big burly men. Although that wouldn’t be easy either; it had been a while since she’d sparred unarmed; not much chance to practice on a deserted planet. With her students, she had sparred to test the technique she taught them, and Visas and Atton usually put up an excellent fight, but that was with bladed weapons. But if the Mandalorians thought that just because she wasn’t using the Force she would be a pushover… they’d be mistaken.
Her newest opponent was a hulking big man named Tagren – who moved almost like a maalraas himself. He was going to be difficult to beat; if even one of his punches or, Force forbid, his kicks connected, it could be defeat for her, even with her armour to absorb some of the blow. She rested in a battle crouch, watching him carefully. The black visor in his helmet stared back.
There were no words exchanged. The fight organizer waved the start signal. Her jaw tightened just slightly and she was in motion, gliding sideways around the circle clockwise, advancing. He bounced a little, light on his feet, but not charging her.
He is the enemy, a part of her mind told her. He is a Mandalorian and he will kill you. Destroy him first.
No, he is my opponent. Nothing more. He will not kill me. There would be no honour in it, not even their own kind of honour. Now shut up and fight.
She did not look at the helmet anymore. There was no eye contact to be made through it, and there was no need to unsettle herself further with it. He was waiting for her to go first. She needed to oblige.
She feinted; he punched towards her head; she ducked and made a leg sweep; he bounded backwards. They circled again, watching carefully as they warmed to each other’s movements.
He made a few quick jabs; she weaved around them and blocked the last one to throw a punch of her own. Her gloved hand connected with his armoured abdomen and she felt a jolt of pain run up the back of her hand. Not a good punch. He reacted little but swung again at her and she flipped backwards, ignoring the protests of her hand. She slipped and almost fell on the slick grass.
When she came upright again he was rushing her. A high kick stopped him in his tracks as he ducked it and tried to sweep her leg; she hopped over his attack, making another sweeping kick with her other foot.
Her booted heel connected with his helmet and knocked him to the ground. He groaned and lay there for a moment before pushing himself up. “I concede.” He pulled off his helmet and felt his jaw and skull, gingerly. There was no monster under the helmet, only a bruised human.
Apologizing for the damage would be weak from their point of view. “Thank you.” Besides, from the way he was reacting, she hadn’t broken anything.
“The Jedi is the clear and honourable victor,” said the organizer, to the disappointment of several of the watching Mandalorians and the delight of her friends. She held her hand and channeled the Force into it, soothing the ache.
Tagren, now standing, pouted at her. “You have prowess in battle, this cannot be denied. But your Jedi teachings prevent you from having a true warrior’s spirit.”
“Yes, how do you fight so coldly?” demanded another one. “Technique doesn’t win battles alone. Where’s your passion, little Jedi woman?”
“What would you like me to say?” Selyn asked. It was too much to explain what was going through her mind when she fought. “You are neither my good friend nor my worst enemy.” I don’t want to fear you anymore.
Tagren snorted, still unconvinced. “Jedi couldn’t have beaten us in the Mandalorian Wars. It took a fallen Jedi to gain that honour.”
Mical opened his mouth to retort – and stopped himself. Whether he was realizing that a Jedi shouldn’t rise to taunts, or whether he was remembering that while Selyn destroyed the Mandalorian fleet at Malachor, Revan was the one who defeated Mandalore, or whether he was remembering that while Selyn destroyed the Mandalorian fleet, she was not proud of it and wished to forget it, she couldn’t tell. But those were her reasons for not speaking. She only looked levelly at Tagren until he turned away with a shrug.
“Well, you have defeated all the contestants here in camp,” the organizer said. “To test yourself further, you’ll have to wait until Kelborn and Bralor get back from their assignments.” He paused. “Or you could go find them in the jungle and help them out.”
A lot of the tasks the Mandalorians had for her were in the jungle: repairing equipment, finding lost scouts, hunting dangerous animals – the big ones, at that. So she left the camp and headed out for the wilderness.
She didn’t like being there. In the Mandalorian camp at least she was slightly distracted from the whispers in the Force. Out there, there was nothing to shield her.
They walked. And they walked. And they walked. The rain fell, harder or softer, but never letting up. Shapes loomed up in the forest, and it was impossible to tell whether it was a large rock or a crashed, rusted troop transport from a distance. There were so many crashed transports, so much abandoned and destroyed equipment lying underfoot, swallowed but not forgotten by the mud and vines and creepers. Several times Mira stopped them to disarm mines that were still live.
So many burned bones of the long dead.
Was this the side of the planet she had fought on? Had she once marched down these very corridors of cliffs and trees? She didn’t recognize it, but then again it all looked the same to her and always had, always would.
And the noises… It was noisy on Dxun, between the rain and the thunder and the constantly howling beasts and birds. Her brain filled in what was missing for her; the rumble of cannonfire, the frenzied rush of footsteps and ragged breathing, distant screams of dying soldiers. Her shoulders were tense, waiting for the whine of falling projectiles that never came. Her eyes constantly traveled, searching for the glint of blaster muzzles and narrow-visored helmets, her heart thudding in her chest.
She couldn’t stop her posture from automatically becoming that of the Major she’d been at the time. She’d been given a position far above where she should have had as a newcomer, by virtue of her Jedi training and her blossoming skill at strategy and charisma in command. Ten years and it still felt like she had never left.
Her own followers seemed less distinct, less real than they had yesterday. Mira’s face was alien to her, becoming that of Amida, her loyal Devaronian Commander. She blinked and Mira was back, though still not feeling overly familiar. She felt like she could see right through Mical as if he wasn’t there, though he was the one closest to her side. Bao-Dur was the only one still solid and real.
The past was rising up from the very earth around her. She could smell the smoke and the blood through the plants and steam, the ionization and the grease and the engine fumes from the transports and tanks.
It was getting to her, too much. And that wasn’t even reckoning with the clamouring whispers of the Force. No wonder she was seeing ghosts.
Amida had died here, leading an assault on the Mandalorian flank while the rest of Selyn’s force attacked the centre. They’d taken the two kilometres they had to, but four thousand had died on that day alone… under her command, alone. And yet that was a small drop in the bucket of the entire front. But Amida’s death she’d felt the most, a lingering scar on her soul, but not the first nor the last.
“Let’s take a break,” she suggested, breaking the silence they’d been traveling under, and the others looked relieved at it. While they shared out snacks and water, she went alone to sit on a massive treeroot and tried to meditate, trying to ignore the fact that the Force seemed more physically present than her friends. It wasn’t like Dantooine at all.
They didn’t disturb her, which she was grateful for. She needed to overcome this by herself. The past was not allowed to overwhelm her, not after all this time fighting it.
Maybe that was why the Force had driven her here. She hadn’t actually been fighting it, only fighting to avoid it. It was time to stop running and face this blessing, this curse. She was afraid that confronting it would incapacitate her, drive her insane with regret and self-loathing, drive her to suicide. But here it could not be avoided or ignored.
A Jedi has no fear. She closed her eyes and reached in to find her centre.
“Why did I die, Major?”
“Was it worth it?”
“You promised to save us, Major!”
“Why me, Major? I had a family!”
Breathe in, breathe out. Ignore the voices. There is no emotion, there is only peace.
“If you’d only been faster, the anti-air wouldn’t have gotten me.”
“If you’d only been stronger, the cannons wouldn’t have blown me up.”
“If you’d only been smarter, the Mandos wouldn’t have shot me in the back.”
Breathe in, breathe out. There is no passion, there is only serenity.
“You betrayed me, Selyn.”
There is no chaos, there- Amida… not Amida…
“You sent us out to die.”
We would all have died where we made our stand otherwise.
“I fought for you and you couldn’t even save me.”
I tried!
“Liar!”
I wanted to save you all!
“You failed!”
Even a Jedi can’t save everyone!
“I hate you!”
Please, Amida…!
“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”
The ghostly words echoed inside her head, joined by a thousand others, rising like a feedback loop to an overwhelming cacophony of fury and hatred. The emotions tore into her, raking at her senses in the Force. The jungle was an inferno around her, smoke and lightning and shells filling the sky, scalding her lungs…
Her shriek was ripped from her throat and soared through the jungle canopy, sending flights of birds screaming into the sky.
He sighed as he tightened the last lug on the access panel. The Ebon Hawk could fly now if they wanted to, but with Selyn distracted by the Mandalorians and their guarantee of safe passage to Iziz, they probably wouldn’t take off for ages. She’d go to Onderon with the Mandalorians and leave them all behind. She’d probably order him to stay on Dxun rather than risk trying to make Iziz through the blockade again, if she even remembered. Of course she’d remember.
He didn’t like getting left behind. It seemed like for most of the journey he’d been in the thick of it, and at first he’d found it a pain, or at least pretended to, but now he realized how much better it was than the alternative. Just to sit here, waiting, wondering what she was up to…
At least he could do something about the wondering, if just a little bit. He wouldn’t snoop, just knock on the door to see what was up. It was difficult – she was quite far away physically – but if he really concentrated… let go of the world around him, reached out towards the distant storm that had gathered around her ever since she’d landed…
Nothing. She might cast a ‘disturbance in the Force’, as Visas liked to put it, but inside it she was counting cards. He’d taught her that trick. Damn himself. But the fact that she was counting them so fast, so resolutely… she wasn’t okay inside, was she.
There was nothing he could do about it now except pretend that he wasn’t worried, since he couldn’t do anything about it.
Visas met him as he headed for the engine room to check on the diagnostics with the trash bucket. “The ship is repaired?”
“As much as I can get it without proper facilities, parts, or tools,” he answered. “Now we just gotta sit tight and wait for our glorious commander to return.” He shot a look at her while his hands flitted over the control panel. “You don’t much like being left behind either, do you? With all that talk about ‘my life for yours’ and ‘I must protect you until you reach your full potential’ or whatever.”
Visas’ full lips tightened. She didn’t like anyone but Selyn poking at her sayings. “I do not. But someone has to watch the ship and she has sufficient escort.”
Yeah, and what was up with Kreia ordering Bao-Dur away when I could use his help? Did she want me to stall on the repairs and not have him to check them over? He’d just have to check them over again when he got back. “Guess she does. And we have to babysit the droids, too…”
“Statement: I heard that, querulous meatbag,” came echoing down the corridor, and he stiffened. The last thing he needed was the HK to come gunning for him while Selyn was away. He wondered just how very upset she’d be if he ‘accidentally’ dismembered it and claimed self-defense… T3 would rat him out, and she’d probably be upset given how much time she spent putting it back together. Well, wonderful.
A light exploded in his head and he staggered; beside him, Visas flinched and almost keeled over, clutching her head.
He grabbed the control panel to keep himself upright. “W-what was that!?” Selyn? Selyn’s in trouble!
“She’s being attacked,” Visas said, actually sounding alarmed. “In the Force.”
It was even more difficult to concentrate but he reached out again; her defenses were completely down, she was vulnerable, and he walked in. The storm was raging inside her now and she was in pain, he could tell that much. Selyn! Selyn, sweetheart, I’m here. Looks like we’re all here. For you.
And he could sense the others, it was weird. Could at least sense that their attention was all on her right now, too. Normally, he would have been bratty and possessive about it, but right now he was mostly glad. She needs all the help she can get.
She was wrapped in warmth, cocooned in friendly spirits, shutting out the hatred and violence. So much for overcoming the past on my own. Atton’s mind touched hers, kissing it as gently as he’d kissed her forehead, but he was not the only one, though he was the first she recognized. They were all here, all of her students, her close friends, all supporting her.
She was covered in sweat not solely due to the intense humidity, but more importantly, there was warm pressure on her hand. She opened her eyes and found Mical was holding it in both of his. Bao-Dur was on her other side, and Mira hovered awkwardly, uncertain of what to do.
“Are you all right?” Mical asked anxiously, still holding her hand.
“Yeah, you okay?” Mira put in.
“I will be,” she answered. “Thank you. I… may have been foolish.” But she hadn’t known there would be such a reaction. Was it the moon, or was it her? “I’m in control now.” She wasn’t, not the way Kreia expected her to be, but she wouldn’t let the whispers take over again.
In fact, they were already fading from her mind.
“I’m sorry for not noticing before,” Mical said earnestly, and she blinked at him, as he finally helped her to her feet and let go of her hand.
“What?”
“If I’d been paying more attention, I could have-” Mical began, and she stopped him.
“I kept it hidden. I did not want to worry you. I need to overcome it myself.” But the whispers had only faded when they came to help her. Was that the lesson of Dxun? Did there have to be a lesson? The Force always had a reason… didn’t it?
Mira cast her a look askance. “Are all Jedi so quick to martyr themselves?”
Selyn managed a smile. “Some. Most, maybe. But it’s true as well.” It wasn’t their job to protect her in this way.
“Whatever was happening to lead up to your scream, we all felt it afterwards,” Bao-Dur said quietly. “The Force was angry at you here, was it?”
“Not the Force… The Force has no feelings, no judgement.” As a Jedi truly ought to be, perhaps. If they weren’t biological mortals. Though some swore the Force had a sense of humour. “But those who died here, many of them blame me.” Their blame was justified, although there was nothing she could do to change what had happened. And even if she could… People would still have died. If not four thousand, maybe five thousand. Maybe ten thousand. It was war. She couldn’t save all her soldiers just by being there. Wishful thinking like that was for children. Then why did she indulge in it so much?
Suddenly she burst out: “Who am I?” She had been a Jedi. The Republic had signed her on as a Major. Dxun had made her Colonel. Serroco had made her General. Malachor had made her nothing, neither Jedi, nor officer, nor protector. And she had done nothing with her nothing since then, not until now, and she didn’t know what she was doing now, except vaguely trying to stop the Sith and break free of the events that defined her to others and herself.
I’m not a soldier. I’m not the General. But I’m not anyone else, either.
“What do you mean? You’re the teacher, you shouldn’t be asking your students existential questions like that,” Mira said.
Bao-Dur was silent and would not meet her eyes.
“I wish I had a simple, reassuring answer to give you,” Mical said solemnly. “But I do not. But let me reassure you that whatever spirits have tormented you here, they do not know you or the person you have become. You are… a good person, full of compassion, and you are strong, and wise, and courageous. …I… I cannot answer for those who died for you before, but… I would die for you.”
She stared at him, at his guileless, sincere expression. In her peripheral vision, Bao-Dur nodded emphatically. Mira shrugged.
Amida had said she would gladly die for her, too.
“I don’t know what to say to that,” she managed to say, and stopped. Her senses twinged to the Force; someone was approaching them. She rose and looked towards the undergrowth expectantly. Her friends followed with confused looks at each other.
Whoever it was, they were almost completely silent in their approach. The first sight or sound she caught of the person was when a Mandalorian in faded red armour stepped from behind a tree. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “It’s dangerous for your kind.”
“What do you mean, our kind?” Mira bristled.
“Non-Mandalorians. Although you show some promise, surviving so far. I’m impressed the zakkegs haven’t eaten you yet. Was that what all the screaming was about?”
“No,” Selyn said calmly. “That was… a personal matter. We haven’t seen many zakkegs today, as a matter of fact.”
“Well, hopefully you don’t see more soon, with all the noise you made. Every creature between here and the tomb must have been alerted. So, what are you doing out here, if not hunting zakkegs?”
“My name is Selyn, and I’m assisting Mandalore in exchange for passage to Iziz. And you are?”
“Kelborn. Scout. Mandalore sent me out here to track a couple ships detected in this area. You sent to give me a hand?”
“Certainly,” she said. “There were ships besides ours?”
“Yeah, from what little we could pick up on sensors, the closer one was bigger than your ship, most likely a freighter or dropship. They were both trying to sneak in quietly, keeping their ion emissions to a minimum. Our sensors almost didn’t pick them up. In fact, Mandalore’s still not sure the second ship exists. But anyhow, I haven’t found the first ship yet, only a fresh Onderonian corpse. Cannocks got him. Pathetic.”
“I see,” she said. “What’s the plan when the ship is found?”
“If there’s more Onderonians, we need to take them out. You up for some action? People have a habit of shooting Mandalorians on sight.” He sounded amused rather than angry, though she was sure he did little to discourage this ‘habit’.
“Very well, if you don’t mind working with Jedi.”
He tilted his helmet at her, and she had the idea he’d raised an eyebrow. “A Jedi, huh? Well, you haven’t started shooting – or stabbing – me yet either, and you said you’re working with Mandalore. I’ll trust you for now.” He turned out to the forest. “Besides, the Onderonians are probably here looking for you, then. They’re none too fond of Jedi either right now.”
“Lead on, then.” If they attacked her on sight…
“Right. Do try to keep your footsteps quiet, will you?”
They returned to the Mandalorian camp in the evening, to find Mandalore was pleased with their assistance. “You’ve proven your worth. You can come along when I go to Iziz tomorrow. The shuttle’s not very big, pick one person to bring along. Kelborn, any news on those emissions detected?”
“The first ship was an Onderon scouting ship sent by Tobin to find the Jedi; we eliminated them without difficulty and recovered the ship. The second ship… it didn’t put down near here is all I can tell you. I think it’s probably near the tomb.”
“If it wasn’t just a thunderstorm sensor ghost. The tomb, huh? Could be trouble. Consult with Bralor on a plan of action while I’m away, I could be gone a little longer than usual.”
“Understood.”
“Good work, go get some rest.”
She was heading towards the quarters assigned to her when she heard a shout from the north side of camp. “Stealthed units have breached our perimeter! We’ve got company!”
There was another shout from within the camp, from many voices; it was hungry with anticipation in a way that made her shiver. Selyn turned and quickened her pace to the source of the first cry.
It came to her through the Force slowly, but when she realized who was attacking, she almost froze. Her eyes narrowed in determination. “It’s the Sith.”
“So you weren’t making them up,” Mira commented as they ran closer, so they could see the black and silver ninja uniforms of the attackers, slightly translucent and blurry thanks to their stealth generators.
She lit her lightsaber and immediately the Sith turned towards her, singling her out. “No indeed. Ready?”
“Hell yeah.”
The Sith were fast, as fast and strong as they’d been when she fought them on the Harbinger on Peragus. There were many more of them as well, but she wasn’t alone now, and she was much, much stronger than she was before.
She couldn’t help the General returning to her, but perhaps it would help her now, even if she couldn’t give orders to the Mandalorians. Her violet lightsaber lit the twilight; Mical’s green one flickering beside her. Behind her, Mira and Bao-Dur provided covering fire.
Then she heard Bao-Dur cry out and whirled to see four more Sith had unstealthed right behind him, wounding and sending him to the ground. Mira had dodged them, but they were dodging her shots in return. Selyn sent a blast of Force pushing her first opponent away from her and ran for her Zabrak friend, but she wouldn’t make it in time…
“Ha. You didn’t think you were the only ones with stealth generators, did you?” A mocking Mandalorian voice came out of the shadows of the hut next to them, and the next thing she knew, a big red-armoured man with a sword was cutting through the Sith from the other side, getting them away from Bao-Dur.
“Kelborn!” she cried, and for the first time, she smiled at a Mandalorian. “Thank you.”
“No thanks needed, Tekeri.” He nodded to her and took a place beside her, sword in ready stance for more attackers. She check on Bao-Dur; he was bleeding, but not too badly, and if she focused the Force on him… “You’re not bad for a Jedi. Wouldn’t mind having a go in the battle circle later, would you?”
She wondered idly if this was how Mandalorians flirted, then dismissed that as foolish. But they respected each other, and she was glad of it. She was making progress with herself. “I’d be honoured.”
She helped Bao-Dur to his feet; he looked a little shaken. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Mandalore came striding across the darkening battlefield, his ridiculously huge rifle smoking. “Tekeri. Seems trouble follows you on a regular basis, does it?”
“I’m afraid so,” she said. “I apologize-”
Mandalore snorted. “Forget about it. Gives my boys a proper workout for once. I was thinking, though, it might be best for both of us if we left for Iziz now, in the middle of the commotion. Grab whatever gear you’ll need. My men will clean up the mess.”
“Very well. Thank you, Mandalore.”
She heard him grumbling as he walked away again towards the shuttle hangar. “Man, the last Jedi I traveled with wasn’t so bloody polite…”
On Onderon, more trouble was brewing, and this time it wasn’t of her making. The Queen of Onderon and her General were locked in a power struggle, and Kavar, she learned, was somewhere in the middle of it. Mandalore attended to his own business, but was quick to agree to remain in Iziz until she’d seen Kavar.
It had been several days and a lot of running around, but she’d finally found someone who could get a message to him, in the Palace with the Queen. It had taken her more time than she’d liked, trying to find the right words for the message, but a few hours later Mandalore’s contact had given her a time and a place; a pub in the busiest part of town, that evening. So now she, Mandalore, and Mical were sitting at a table near the back of the pub, waiting.
She felt him enter and looked around casually, but there was nothing casual about the jolt she felt when she met his warm brown eyes.
Kavar had always been her favourite teacher, even if he was never officially her Master. Down-to-earth, always wearing a kind smile, and reasonably patient with his students, he had been popular at the Jedi Academy on Coruscant and she herself had been in a fair way to be in love with him when she was a young Padawan. And he was handsome, too, with a square jaw and short-cropped curly brown hair. But he had never shown preference for anyone, even if it had been allowed, and if he spent more time with her, it was always to treat her like a little sister.
It was so strange to see him in plain clothes and not Jedi robes, she thought as he joined them at their table. She was still in armour; there were enough bounty hunters and beast riders around that she wasn’t out of place. “Selyn, it’s good to see you after all this time.”
“Likewise,” she managed to say. The affectionate gladness in his face was stirring feelings long buried. The last time she had seen him was at her exile, and yet it was as if time had rolled back to before the Wars…
“You must have gone through a lot to arrange this meeting. The palace is at full battle readiness; as you’ve no doubt noticed, revolution is ripe to erupt at any moment. Getting a message in is no small feat.”
“I’ve made a few connections in a hurry,” she said.
Mandalore stirred. “Kavar, huh? The famed Jedi guardian? The Mandalorians counted on the fact that it would be you, not Revan, leading the Jedi against us in the Mandalorian War. I always wondered how we would have done against you. I heard you were killed fighting Malek during the Jedi Civil War.”
Mical frowned. Kavar only raised an eyebrow. “It seems my former student keeps curious company. Strange times lead to strange alliances, no doubt.” He turned back to Selyn. “Why are you here? I imagine that you hold little love for any on the Jedi Council any more, even an… old friend.”
All thoughts she’d had of speaking about the Sith first went out of her head. “Kavar… I’d hoped that… I felt you abandoned me that day.”
He sighed long and regretfully, looking down at his hands folded on the table. “You have to understand that it was a time of great uncertainly. We had just learned that Darth Revan was back with an armada. Every Jedi that went with her was… lost, corrupted, and as dark as their Master. And then there was you. Many thought you were a spy.”
He was being evasive, and her heart sank. Did you think I was a spy, Kavar?
“But there’s more to it than that. And I think you deserve an explanation-” He stiffened and looked around. “There is a hostile presence seeking… not me. How surprising. But I fear they are after you.” Over by the door, she could see an Onderon military officer and several soldiers, beginning a systematic sweep of the bar. The officer was making an announcement over the PA for patrons to cooperate with the soldiers and that they would be finished shortly.
“You should mind-trick ’em,” Mandalore said. “Just sit tight and they’ll walk right by, won’t they?”
Kavar shook his head. “I’m afraid that won’t work on Colonel Tobin. Besides, lacking in the Force as you are…”
“I’ll be fine,” Selyn said. “You should go, Kavar. I’m not alone, and I do have the Force, though I’m not surprised that you- never mind. Go. We’ll cover for you.”
He laid a hand on hers briefly. “I’ll get word to you when I can. Go find the other Masters. We will speak again, properly. May the Force be with you.” He stood and was gone into the crowd.
The military officer was by their table a moment later. “In orbit I thought the Ebon Hawk was mine for sure. You can’t imagine how furious I was when you slipped through my fingers in the ensuing battle. Imagine my delight to discover you’ve come to Iziz anyway. Quite careless of you. Well, come without resisting, and you will be treated well-”
And then Mandalore kicked over the table and the place went to hell.
Atton was putting the ship into hyperspace when he sensed her entering the cockpit behind him, although she made almost no sound. Wasn’t that weird, that he could sense people now?
“Hey, welcome back,” he said, spinning the chair slightly to look at her. It had been a long time since they’d been able to speak in person, something like a week, and he’d missed her. Her proximity was as soothing and uplifting as ever, although she seemed slightly different in ways he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Regardless, she was still beautiful.
“Thanks.” She tossed something at him and he caught it, looking at it curiously. It was another lightsaber, smaller than the one he already had. “I got you a souvenir.”
“Sweet.” He pointed it well away from any of the consoles and turned it on. Orange. Yellow and orange were his colours. He liked it. “Thanks. Didn’t think you’d think of me.”
“You’re hard to forget.”
He chuckled. “I do my best. So what’s the verdict? You were rather terse on the comm.”
“Kavar is there. I saw him.” A weighty pause. “We didn’t get to talk properly, though. He said he’d try to get in touch with us later, and that I should go find Master Vash in the meantime.”
“He’s busy enough to take that long, huh.” He glanced at her; she was staring off into hyperspace wistfully. Whoever Jedi Master Kavar had been to the rest of the galaxy, he was special to her. As if he didn’t have enough competition with Mical already. “You all right?”
She turned distant brown eyes on him. “I’m fine. Just… thinking.”
“No, really?” He smirked and was rewarded with an amused smile. She’d felt so cold and distant while she was still on Dxun, before she’d gone to Onderon and out of his reach. It was good to see her smile, even if it was a weak one. “Anything I can help with?”
“Don’t trouble yourself-”
“Hey, sweetheart. I’m enough of an asshole that if I’m offering, I really mean it,” he said gruffly. “So. Anything I can help with?”
She looked at him in surprise, but she didn’t smile this time, and he wondered why not. Thoughts flickered across her face, and he caught some of them in the Force, but they were so quick, so confused, he couldn’t interpret them. Master Kavar, Mandalorians, guilt, and something else, something soft and fragile, but she hid that away before he could tell what it was.
“Who am I?” she said at last.
“You’re a bit old to be having an identity crisis, aren’t you?” he retorted, trying to buy time to cover his surprise and think about it.
“Atton.”
“That’s my name, yeah. Let me think, woman. It’s not an easy question. Why do you ask, anyway?”
She looked down at her hands in her lap. “I don’t want to be solely defined by my past, but I can’t seem to escape it. I can’t see the future and even my present is vague and hopeless.”
“Wow, go easy on the optimism, hey? Nah, you’re not defined only by your past.” Even with that… attack, out in the jungle. He wasn’t sure how to interpret that event.
When she looked up at him, there was a slightly irritated spark in her eyes. “How can you be so sure? It’s relentless.”
“Would the General of Malachor seriously waste time helping kids in the Refugee Sector on Nar Shaddaa? Would she work with Mandalorians just for a shuttle ticket? Would she keep all these losers around on her ship?”
“None of you are losers,” she answered.
Before she could say anything else, he gave her a mirthless smile. “You do realize you’re speaking to the worst person on this ship who’s not a droid?” Although whether Goto was a droid or not was still up for debate. He was pretty sure about it, though. And yeah, sure, Visas was a former Sith, but she hadn’t actually done anything as a Sith, had she? “I’m still working through my issues, what makes you think I can help with yours?”
Consternation filled her face. “Oh, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t think- I was only thinking that I wanted your opinion. …Because I trust you.”
Sudden warmth blossomed in his chest and all his irritation vanished. “…Oh. Well, hey. Most people can’t read the future anyway. And you’re doing what you can in the present, right?”
“I suppose,” she answered, still subdued. The cold, walled-off feeling was coming back. Frak. He wanted to reach out to her, touch her face, her hair, break down those walls, make her smile again. He’d be lost without his teacher, his… best friend. Actually, if he was really honest with himself… he wanted to snog her senseless until she moaned breathlessly in his arms, but like that was ever going to happen. She preferred guys like Mical, anyway. And he couldn’t even reach out to her, not with this bloody console between them.
“Hey,” he said gently. “You wanna play some pazaak?”
She wandered into the common area and approached the closet. “HK, I had a question for you.”
“Statement: Ah. More questions. Wonderful.”
She was getting used to the droid’s heavy sarcasm and learning to move around it. “A while ago, you asked to confirm if I was the one responsible for Malachor. Why was that?”
“Observation: Well, master, I was not at Malachor V during your near-genocidal reaction to the Mandalorian threat, but I feel that I may have been constructed as a result of that.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Observation: I believe that Revan determined that mass slaughter on such a scale might have been no longer needed to achieve her aims. So perhaps you are indirectly responsible for my creation.”
“Were you created during the Mandalorian War, then?”
“Answer: No, master. I was constructed shortly after the beginning of the Jedi Civil War.”
She hesitated to ask. “…Who did Revan ask you to kill?”
“Answer: Well, master, normally unless you were operating on my central control cluster, I would be somewhat hesitant to discuss my targets. But I suppose it could do no harm. During the Jedi Civil War, I was responsible for certain strategic targets. For some reason, Revan did not feel that the Republic presented much of a military threat. Aside: I am not sure why this was so, but Revan did have a certain biological instinct regarding such things, so I will simply say there were probably reasons for such an assessment.”
Selyn blinked in surprise. “But I was told Revan went to war against the Republic, to conquer it.” Although Kreia had already hinted that perhaps Revan’s ‘fall’ to the Dark Side was an act of self-sacrifice, not made through weakness or out of love of war. She didn’t understand, not yet. She would probably never know until she saw her again. “Why didn’t she consider it a threat?”
“Answer: Revan felt the true war was against the Jedi.”
She drew in her breath sharply.
“Observation: It was not something discussed with much of the others, but I think Revan recognized that a single Jedi, both in the past and in the present, could turn the tide of a conflict. So my targets were frequently Jedi, or someone close to a Jedi that could result in their corruption or collapse. Revan often assigned me to kill leaders or supporters of certain Jedi so as to erode their will.”
“Why?”
“Answer: Revan saw the pressures of war on Dxun, and knew that even in the heat of conflict, Jedi could be broken, not physically, but psychologically.” Her gaze hardened. It had happened to her, to a degree. Revan had seen it. And used it. “Observation: It is a curious thing to assassinate and wound someone’s personality, to assassinate them psychologically, and it took me some time to reconcile the acts. I am much more used to the… direct approach. Still, I served well, and killed many Jedi.”
“So… you’re saying that Revan wanted to break all Jedi?” Why? Why? Why, Revan? What madness would lead you to such a conclusion? What desperate need convinced you that this was the only decision that could be made?
“Observation: Master, that was the lesson of Malachor. Any Jedi involved in the systematic slaughter on such a scale cannot help but doubt and question themselves.”
“But…” Malachor had been the last-ditch attempt to stop the Mandalorians. If they had failed, the last vestiges of the Republic Fleet would have been swept away and the Mandalorians, diminished but undefeated, would have rampaged through the rest of the Republic unchecked.
The orange eyes seemed all too knowing and uncompromising as they stared at her without the slightest flicker. “Observation: Master, I do not believe the Mandalorians were the true target at Malachor. I believe the intention was to destroy the Jedi, break their will, and make them loyal to Revan.”
Selyn turned away. How could what the droid said be true?
“I do not know if you examined the records of the deaths on Malachor, but you cannot escape that many of the Jedi and Republic soldiers who died were not Revan’s strongest supporters. Observation: I believe that Revan was ‘cleaning house’ at Malachor V. Those who did not die became Revan’s allies against the Republic.”
Her jaw dropped. “That’s… that’s insane.” But now that she thought about it… Carnavon, Yserys, Commander Helvotha, Yuria… all the names that came first to mind whom she had lost in Malachor were people who had disagreed with Revan at one point or another. She herself had argued with Revan over the weapon. She had not thought of it that way before; all those under her command, even those transferred to her command before Malachor, she had known at least a little; she had thought Revan wanted her to have the forces she was most comfortable commanding for the most difficult battle they had ever fought.
Now HK was saying the correlation was not a coincidence. How awful.
“Assessment: When faced with a continuous series of hard-fought battles, I detected a significant statistical increase in Jedi following Revan over the Jedi Code – a compromise in principles bought about by battlefield conditions. The emotional weight of war changed Jedi morale, power, and eventually, their allegiance. Conclusion: I believe the Mandalorian Wars were to beat the Mandalorians… and also to allow Revan to build the foundation of her army.” The droid’s head tilted slightly. “But I am surprised you have not already arrived at this conclusion.”
“Why?” she asked faintly.
“Answer: Surely the loss of your troops and the Jedi who served under you at Malachor V had a detrimental effect upon you and your ties to the Force – and, I suspect, your desire to be around others ever again.” Far too true. But she had remained more or less sane, nor had she fallen. If her connection to the Force hadn’t been cut, would she have fallen?
And just because she didn’t want to be around people didn’t mean she wasn’t horribly lonely. Having companions had eased the ache, even with her unwilling reconnection to the Force, even if she didn’t want to spend every waking moment with them. Just to know they were there made her feel less… broken.
She sat in silence for a long moment. The HK droid did not move, except to scan the common room. She didn’t know whether it considered the conversation over or not.
But she had more questions. “Did you kill many Jedi?”
“Answer: Yes, master. It wasn’t always easy, and I had to adapt quickly to rapidly changing battle situations. And they would often sever my limbs and my head from my torso, which was an inconvenience. Observation: It seems odd to me that you would react with shock. It seems to me that you have killed many more Jedi than I could ever hope to achieve. This was formerly something that generated respect, now I wonder from your tone if those deaths you caused were merely an accident. How disappointing.”
Malachor V had been no accident, but she had not wished the deaths of a hundred Jedi, many of them friends, to say nothing of thousands of soldiers. “How can you respect death on such a scale?”
The orange eyes flashed at her. “Retort: Master, the hypocrisy of you meatbags never fails to cause a surge in my behavior core. Not only have you ended the lives of many recently, but in light of the event at Malachor V, you must recognize that death is necessary.”
“I’ve never enjoyed it. And certainly not as you do.” She retorted a bit sharply, irritated that the droid would accuse her of it.
“Evaluation: Well, master, that is your problem. Personally, I think you should seek help, but you seem to be the silent loner type, unwilling to admit such weaknesses to another.”
Her failure on Dxun rose up before her before she pushed it away. HK’s version of ‘help’ probably involved more killing. “How can you justify the deaths of so many?”
“Answer: Oh, quite easily, master. If you had not slaughtered the Mandalorians at Malachor V, they would have destroyed you and everything you tried to protect. Now once you accept that the Mandalorians had to die, then the next logical step is to determine exactly how many need to die to convince them to correct their need for conquest.” It was all too horribly simple and horribly familiar and horribly true. “And that, I am pleased to say, is where I come in.”
“What do you mean?”
“Statement: It is a fact that the targeted extermination of certain individuals will bring war to a close quickly and efficiently. Leaders unite – and when the leaders are removed, the unity they inspire erodes as well. You were a General in the Wars, master. I have seen the records of your battles, and I know that your name was one the Mandalorians feared. It is not solely because of your skill in battle, but the fact that you could inspire others, convincing them to fight to the death in situations where other military leaders would be forced to retreat.”
It made a certain sort of sense. On one hand, assassins were dishonourable… weren’t they? To kill an individual with as little chance for them to fight back as possible… But on the other hand, if it had been possible to remove the Mandalore of the Wars without destroying hundreds of thousands of lives on both sides, not to speak of the billions of civilian casualties… That would have been preferable, wouldn’t it? The murder of a few was preferable to the murder of many.
Revan’s madness, her fall, was beginning to make a twisted kind of sense. Few or no Jedi would – could assassinate, or even argue in favour of it. It was better to inspire everyone, to give them the courage to stand up against any injustices or misfortunes, than to stoop to stabbing the enemy in the back from the shadows. …Wasn’t it?
With all the bitter veterans on the Republic side who had been ‘broken’ at Malachor… Atton, Bao-Dur, and Mira included… maybe not. So many could have lived normal lives if it hadn’t been for the War. And that was her fault as much as anyone else’s. Wasn’t a normal life for everyone one of her wishes?
HK was continuing. “Revan often speculated on your leadership in this regard. I believe my previous master had formed some other conclusions concerning you. Revan’s apprentice wanted me to kill you when you left the war effort and did not go with them to the Unknown Regions, but she would not permit it.”
Malek wanted to kill her? That bastard. “Although I didn’t die at Malachor?”
“Speculation: I believe Revan wanted you to face the Jedi Council, master. As if there was something that you would show them and possibly undermine their strength. Perhaps Revan wished the Council to see how far the Jedi had fallen. Knowing her, it was no doubt a strategic decision on many levels.”
“What else do you think she wanted me to show them?”
“Observation: Master, this is purely speculation, but there is a certain strength in parading defeated leaders before their people. Perhaps Revan felt that your return to the Council in your state would show them what Jedi were capable of – and the cost. Revan often referred to you as a Jedi who was already dead, and felt your reception by the Council would further show you their hypocrisy. Considering the council’s judgment, it seems they did not receive your return well. Perhaps whatever anger they held for Revan they held against you.”
Revan had killed her without killing her. She’d only seen her once shortly after Malachor, when she made her decision to return to the Jedi Council. Revan had nodded dismissively, giving her a subtle jab at the loss of her Force-sensitivity.
Had Kavar blamed her for Revan’s fall? Did she blame herself for Revan’s fall? No, she couldn’t do that – she had been blind to it, preoccupied with struggling not to fall herself. Besides, if Revan had chosen to fall… Revan was in control of her own decisions, much more than Selyn had ever been – as far as she knew. She bore no responsibility for her former friend becoming a Sith.
“Thank you, HK. I… need to think about this.”
“Supplication: Do make it an interrogation next time, Master. I will be far less bored by your inane, predictable questions.”