The captain's cabin of the Dawn Eagle was in semi-darkness. The main lighting was off, and the dim candle was only enough to slightly dispel the darkness and highlight the outline of a man sitting at a table, his chin wearily resting on his clasped fingers.
Revan, for it was he, stared intently at the T-shaped visor of a mask he had placed opposite himself, propped against Bastila's holocron.
The mask helped him concentrate, as in the old days, calming the thoughts that swarmed in the former Jedi's head.
Too much had happened in the last few days. Too much strange. Starting with the visit to the Temple on Coruscant, events had rushed forward with the speed of a courier shuttle on a stable hyperspace route. He hadn't even recovered from meeting the current Grand Master when the Force pulled him to Naboo. All these visions and the unseen but palpable pressure had forced him to act too hastily, recklessly, and extremely carelessly.
Revan sighed heavily, remembering how many mistakes he had made, yielding to the currents of the Force. And much could no longer be undone.
Obi-Wan could have heard Avner Van's real name, and the gesture of accepting Maul as a student did not look the best in the eyes of the Jedi. Qui-Gon already knew of Revan's return, but Kenobi... And what if he told the entire Council? He would tell... And they would definitely not give him Anakin.
A conflict with the Order was brewing. And to this, the ancient was not yet ready. He did not have sufficient means and connections to oppose, albeit weakened, the Order, which was allied with the Senate and the Republic... For now.
"Krayt was right," the ancient Force-sensitive thought. "The Force plays with our destinies, completely unconcerned about how the consequences of this game will affect the participants."
It became clear why his first teacher had become obsessed with the idea of destroying the Force or cutting off all Force-sensitives from it.
Revan did not know all the details of Master Krayt's last years of life, but Mira had managed to tell him something before that failed attempt to kill the Emperor.
And right now, the former Jedi was beginning to understand his late mentor. Since his "resurrection" in this... future, Revan had increasingly felt the Force's interference in his life. Visions, sudden impulses, and premonitions - all this had happened to him before, but not as often and not on such a scale. Here, however... Something was pushing him onto a certain path and preventing any attempts to deviate.
Destiny - the Force. For a Jedi, these concepts are equivalent.
But the realization that everything was going as it should did not make things easier. Problems multiplied, and they needed to be solved.
Revan wearily lowered his head into his hands, burying his face in them.
"What are you thinking about, my love?" a familiar voice suddenly said.
The startled Jedi looked around, trying to find the source. On the table, next to the mask, a hologram of Bastila appeared, projected by the holocron, which had reacted to an unconsciously released surge of Force.
"Bastila," Revan said with a smile, gazing at the beloved face.
He had never activated the holocron after leaving that cave on Tatooine, fearing that the image of his wife, who had long since left this world, would evoke nothing but pain.
He was mistaken.
To see Bastila again, even in this way... it warmed him.
"What troubles you?" the guardian of the holocron asked with a smile.
Yes, it was not Bastila Shan, but her gestures, mimicry, and reactions were very similar. The imprint of consciousness, created with the help of the Force, copied the original quite accurately, although it could not communicate as freely.
"A lot," the former Jedi replied, his mood darkening slightly. "I feel... I don't even know how to explain it."
"Try," the hologram suggested. "Maybe I have something that can help?"
Revan doubted that among the knowledge Bastila had put into the holocron, there would be anything to help him understand what was happening and himself. However, even a simple conversation could sometimes lead to the right thoughts.
"You see, I increasingly feel that I am losing control of my own life... However that may sound in my current state," Revan chuckled at the end.
"What exactly do you feel?" Bastila clarified.
The Jedi thought for almost a minute, listening to his sensations and recalling his own past.
"Remember how we met... After the 'Endar Spire'?"
The hologram nodded.
"I didn't even think about the chances of finding one single girl in a city of millions, controlled by the Sith. And it wasn't even known if her capsule had fallen in the nearby areas or on the other side of the planet. Without money, without connections, under threat of death or capture."
"And yet you found me."
"I found you," Revan confirmed, once again lost in his thoughts.
"The Force Bond?" the guardian of the holocron guessed, noticing the expression on his interlocutor's face.
"Most likely," the Jedi agreed. "The Force bound us even on board my 'Interdictor,' and then, time and again, brought us together. I found you on Taris, we had shared visions..."
"And we could help each other, holding back from... extremes," the hologram added.
The Jedi nodded.
"The Force led us. And not only to each other, but also to the Star Forge."
"Do you feel something similar now?"
"Yes. But many times stronger," Revan frowned. "I can already feel the nascent Bonds leading to the young Skywalker... I know where to find him and when he needs help. But these bonds, they are only one of many. I feel as if I'm stuck in an invisible web! Something elusive is pulling me forward, urging me to conflict with the Council, to take on apprentices... And Hutt knows what else!"
The Jedi jumped to his feet and paced the cabin.
"And I can't resist it! And the funniest thing is – I don't want to! I feel like I'm doing the right thing, even realizing that I'm creating a huge number of problems for myself and sometimes acting downright foolishly!"
Revan turned back to the table and leaned towards the hologram's face.
"I wasn't like that!" he said hopefully, addressing Bastila's image.
The Keeper smiled and ran a holographic pen across the man's cheek.
"You are the one who, against the Council's decision, led the Jedi into war with the Mandalorians. And then you went alone to find the one responsible for everything. You returned as a conqueror and created a Sith Empire that almost destroyed the Republic. But you yourself destroyed your state, having enlisted the help of only a few sentients on an old freighter – as Bastila recounted, she smiled wider – And in the end, you plunged into the Unknown Regions to find an ancient evil, in the company of an old mercenary, whom you incidentally made a Mandalorian."
At this, Revan couldn't help but chuckle.
"The Force has always guided you, my love. You were its chosen one even then. And the fact that it brought you back to life only confirms it."
"But why me? And for what?"
"Who knows?" the hologram shrugged. "In the long history of the Order, there have been many like you, and each has done something incredible. The Masters on Dantooine loved these legends."
Revan sat in the armchair and leaned back.
He had heard before about the Chosen Ones of the Force who became great masters and performed incredible feats, like the founders of the Order or Memitt Nadill. And Arc Jeth?
Or the Hero of Tython, who managed to defeat even Vitiate? Albeit briefly.
However, among the famous and extraordinary personalities, there were many... dark ones, who simply overturned the Jedi's foundations, forcing them to move forward, like Rajivari, Xendor, or Exar Kun.
"Yes, Qui-Gon would have liked such legends. They fit his... view of the Force very well."
"You yourself are the hero of many legends – the Jedi Knight, Revan the Traitor, Revan the Hero, the Defender of the Republic, the Dark Lord of the Sith who went into Darkness and returned to the Light," Bastila reminded him.
The Jedi shook his head in dismay. It was all true. He had long been entangled in the nets of the Great Force. But only now was he beginning to notice it.
The man looked at the hologram. Even if it was just an echo of the personality of the Bastila he loved with all his heart, talking to her helped him understand himself.
"Thank you, my dear... I feel much better."
Blowing a final air kiss, the hologram disappeared.
The former Jedi, who had once been a Sith, fell into deep thought.
Meanwhile. Coruscant. The Republic Senate Building.
The newly elected Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, chosen just a few days ago, was in a foul mood.
Too many plans had to be changed recently, too many things had gone wrong. Someone had interfered with the meticulously staged play and ruined such a carefully prepared intrigue.
Not only had the operation on Naboo failed almost completely. That was fixable. The result of breaking the blockade could also be used to his advantage. It was even better. The wounded Trade Federation would now easily enter opposition. And with a little incentive, it would also serve as the core for forming a future army... But everything in its own time.
The man turned his chair towards the wide window and, taking a sip from a glass of expensive wine, cast a thoughtful gaze at the bustling transport arteries of the capital.
His face remained serene, but the cracked glass in his hand clearly testified to the storm of emotions hidden beneath the mask of calmness.
Rage... Disappointment at failure... Hatred.
But not because of Naboo. Far more unpleasant was the fact that the teacher... or rather, the Master... Darth Plagueis... That lanky creature was still alive.
The glass in his hand shattered into a fan of shards. Fortunately, the Chancellor was alone in his office and could afford not to think about secrecy.
Muuns, after some failed experiment of his own, had locked himself in a refuge and wouldn't come out even for a meeting with his apprentice. But he continued to send orders via holocommunication.
"I hate him," Palpatine hissed, spinning the glass shards on his cut palm with the Force.
The plan to get rid of the "teacher" immediately after the inauguration had failed miserably. Plagueis had not accepted the invitation to the capital and had flatly refused to meet with his apprentice. Something had agitated the old Sith... Something powerful.
"And Maul too," the Chancellor mused, recalling the latest reports from his assassin.
On Tatooine, the Zabrak had encountered someone very strong and skilled. Moreover – Dark!
And this dark one had some dealings with the Jedi. He had protected them from Maul. Unusual.
Who was he? A new player? A competitor?
His appearance coincided suspiciously with the sudden onset of... unease in Plagueis. Could the teacher have secretly been preparing a replacement for Palpatine?
"But the figure suddenly refused to play by the rules?" the Chancellor chuckled at his own guess.
It would be interesting to meet this mysterious personality and talk without witnesses. Whether he was an ally or a competitor, it was necessary to find out as soon as possible.
Find out and adjust plans.
The man wearily rubbed his temple, simultaneously healing the cuts on his hand.
A powerful disturbance was felt in the Force. If only he knew where its source was!
Suddenly, the holocommunicator, whose number few knew, beeped.
Pulling on a deep hood, Palpatine took a communication device from a hidden pocket and activated it.
A miniature hologram of a Zabrak knelt.
"Master, I have important information for you."
Naboo.
While the royal palace, like the entire capital, buzzed, noisily preparing for the celebration of victory and alliance with the Gungans, an ancient Force user, returned to life, hid from the general merriment in a hospital room.
Revan thought that a conversation with the wounded Qui-Gon would be a much more useful expenditure of time than playing the honored guest at a royal reception. Let Kenobi handle that. He would also have someone to look after Skywalker.
However, the speed with which the organization of this event was proceeding was enviable. The battle had ended just over a day ago, and the people and the capital itself were already ready for the celebration.
Revan just shook his head, driving away unnecessary thoughts, and entered the Jedi's ward.
Jinn looked much better than the day before. The court medics, it seemed, were highly qualified. Qui-Gon lay on the hospital bed, engrossed in some document on a datapad, when the ward door swung open.
"Glad to see you're better," Revan said from the doorway.
The Jedi involuntarily rubbed his bandaged chest.
"Thanks to you, I'll still be able to hammer some wisdom into Obi-Wan's head," the Jedi chuckled, and then said in a serious tone, "Thank you."
To dismiss such gratitude with a perfunctory "you're welcome" would be disrespectful to the interlocutor. Therefore, Revan simply nodded in silence.
"How is Obi-Wan?" the ancient decided to clarify the situation.
"He's indignant," Qui-Gon replied concisely.
"And that's all?" he raised an eyebrow questioningly.
The wounded Jedi glanced at the datapad for a moment, then handed it to his interlocutor.
"Here, take a look."
Revan took the device and read the open document. It turned out to be a letter... or rather, an order from the Jedi Council. The text stated that Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, the gifted Anakin Skywalker, and... presumably Jedi Knight Avner Van – were to appear at the Temple on Coruscant to present themselves before the Council. It was specified that Avner Van must be brought to the Council, even against his will.
"Against his will? I'd like to see that," Revan chuckled.
"Me too," Jinn smiled.
The former Sith reread the order.
"So, my name didn't surface anywhere?"
"No," the Jedi replied, understanding which name he meant. "He didn't hear it. And if he did... Well, Obi-Wan isn't a big fan of digging through archival records. And there's not much information about you, like a merciful Hutt. And even less truthful information."
"That's good," the ancient nodded to his thoughts.
"Not entirely," Jinn objected. "You still have to explain everything to the Council."
"I have a story prepared for that."
"And the archival records? I doubt that Avner Van is on the Jedi lists of this generation."
"Avner wasn't really there... until recently."
"What... How?" Qui-Gon asked in shock, but then immediately guessed, "You were in the Archives?"
Revan nodded.
"By the way, open access to the lists and the lack of surveillance at the terminals at the far end of the reading room is a huge security loophole. You could erase or change half the data from the Archives, and no one would notice."
Qui-Gon shook his head in dismay.
"Well, thank you for the tip. I'll try to ensure that the surveillance systems are properly improved."
"Don't rush with that," the former Jedi asked with a smile. "Situations vary."
The Jedi fidgeted on the bed.
"Hmm... Alright, but how do you plan to explain your training? Your level of preparation?"
"It's simple. A holocron," Revan shrugged.
"A holocron?" Jinn frowned. "I'm afraid the Council will demand details. And also to hand over the holocron for study."
Cases where a gifted individual found a holocron and received training from its keeper were rare, but still known. However, finding such a repository of knowledge was not easy. Moreover, most of the discovered holocrons belonged to followers of the Dark Side. The Council would hardly like that.
"Of course. The holocron was inherited from my father. It was created by Master Zhar Lestin during the Old Republic. And, unfortunately, the aforementioned holocron disappeared without a trace after my emergency landing on Tatooine. It's impossible to verify this information. However, the skills fully correspond to the training program of that time. Especially since I personally knew Master Zhar and was indeed his student."
Qui-Gon rubbed the bridge of his nose, not too pleased with the impending deception of the Council.
"Alright, but what about the records in the archives? How will you explain that you've already been enrolled in the Order?"
Revan looked up at the wounded Jedi.
"For that, I was hoping for your help."
"Mine?"
"Yes. If my memory serves me correctly, one can be accepted into the Order at a mature age, if the gifted individual is already trained, has passed trials, or has demonstrated a high level of preparation and potential in wielding the Force."
Jinn nodded.
"It's a rather ancient provision, but it hasn't been repealed. However, acceptance requires the approval of at least the Minor Council of Masters. Or at least three Masters, even if they are not part of the Council, but with the support of the Grand Master."
"I have a plan for that too. If those who recently went missing or broke ties with the Order vouch for me, I don't think they'll be able to verify this information either?"
"You found information in the archives about Jedi lost on missions? There aren't many Masters among them."
"But there are."
"And the Grand Master?"
"We've, so to speak, already reached an agreement."
Jinn's eyebrows shot up.
"In what sense?"
"In the direct sense. I was asked not to turn away from the Order in troubled times. And I humbly listened."
Qui-Gon rubbed his temples and shook his head.
"And how, after all this, can you not believe the legends about the fallen one who, in a matter of months, created an empire capable of conquering the Republic? How do you manage this?"
"The will of the Force," the ancient Jedi shrugged. "So, what? Will you help?"
"As if there's a choice?" Qui-Gon chuckled.
"There's always a choice."
"I don't doubt it," Jinn said skeptically. "However, I will help. And not just me. I have a couple of good comrades among the Masters. They will support me if I want to bring a talented gifted individual into the Order."
"Thank you," Revan thanked him sincerely, but couldn't resist asking, "Forgive my directness, but why did you agree so easily?"
Years spent among intrigues, wars, power struggles, and political games would turn anyone into a paranoid. And the former Sith knew too well that nothing happened for free.
Revan's motives remained unknown to the ancient. He felt a certain kinship in their understanding of the Force and their attitude towards duty and the Jedi calling. But that was not enough.
"Revan, even if we don't consider the fact that you saved my life. And, I suspect, not just once," Jinn hinted at the incident on Tatooine. "I have strived to understand the Force for most of my conscious life in the Order. I am sure that it is not just a tool and an ally, as the teachers said. It is something more, perhaps even sentient. And you understand the Force like no one else. Both its sides. And yet, you are not like a mad monster in human form, as the fallen are described in the archives."
Qui-Gon paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and continued.
"If I understood the Force better. If I taught others better... Perhaps my Padawan..."
"We cannot decide for others. It is not for us to choose their path," Revan interrupted his interlocutor. "Alec was my friend, and later my student. However, I chose to turn back to the Light, although I had a choice. I could have let go of the Darkness that was raging, I could have simply accepted the offer of Bastila, who had turned to the Dark Side. But I held back. He, however, chose to remain Darth Malak. Even when I offered him the same choice."
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and nodded. Revan's words did not bring peace to his troubled soul, but at least they slightly lessened the unbearable burden of guilt that had weighed on the Jedi's shoulders for many years.
Obi-Wan was his attempt at atonement. However, judging by the student's behavior, Jinn had made a mistake somewhere again. The Padawan was impulsive and excessively hostile towards adepts of the Dark Side. Yet, first and foremost, a Jedi should try to save a misguided gifted individual and return him to the Light, not attack.
"And still, how to convey to the student the difference between Light and Darkness? How to guide him in the right direction without instilling in him a fear of the alternative?" Qui-Gon voiced his thoughts, hoping for an answer from his interlocutor.
Revan frowned and sat on the edge of the neighboring bed. His face, no, his entire appearance suddenly changed. He seemed to have aged several decades. His shoulders drooped slightly, a wrinkled fold appeared on his forehead, and his eyes held a weariness with a slight hint of sadness. A wise mentor trapped in a teenager's body.
"There is no simple answer to such a question. Everyone seeks the answer for themselves," he replied after a slight pause. "I haven't found mine yet."
They talked for several hours, and each, in the course of the conversation, tried more to sort out their own thoughts than to convince the other of something.
The conversation was interrupted when Obi-Wan entered the ward. Revan's presence did not please him.
To avoid provoking a conflict, the former Sith preferred to leave. Especially since there was still much to do before departure. Not to mention that Anakin needed to be prepared for the meeting with the Council.
By agreement with Qui-Gon, Skywalker would fly with the Jedi. Revan was not thrilled about this, but agreed that it would be easier and would give the Council fewer reasons for distrust.
The boy turned out to be very intelligent and quickly understood what was required of him. Mentally, Revan noted that the young man would learn quickly and he would have to somehow slow down his progress to prevent the thirst for power and authority from arising in the child's soul.
He had no desire to participate in the upcoming celebration, so the former Sith preferred to spend the remaining time before departure in his cabin. Finally, there was time to deal with his own body. The hormonal surge needed to be brought under control. Which meant – meditations and more meditations.
And yet, he couldn't rest peacefully. A few hours before departure, the communicator suddenly rang, indicating an incoming call.
"Vaner, my friend!" the underground ruler of Tatooine greeted the ancient with a false smile on his shapeless face.
The Jedi was not even surprised that the Hutt easily recognized him even without a mask. The cartel's agent network diligently collected information. Moreover, Revan hadn't particularly hidden from his unexpected... business partner from Tatooine. Otherwise, he would have used a different communicator.
"Esteemed Jabba! I am glad to hear and see you," Revan returned the smile to the hologram. "What do I owe your call to?"
The Hutt nodded benevolently, appreciating his interlocutor's greeting, and popped some snack into his mouth, demonstrating that their conversation was informal... for now.
"How are your successes?" Jabba asked, not taking his eyes off Revan.
"Everything is going as it should," the former Jedi replied.
"And our little deal?" the Hutt asked in a completely different tone.
The ancient couldn't suppress a smile. He had expected this question from the very first second of the conversation. There was no other reason for the criminal lord from the desert planet to call.
"Everything is ready," Revan pulled a datachip from his pocket. "All that remains is to arrange how to deliver it to Tatooine."
"Ho! Wonderful!" the Hutt chuckled hoarsely. "One of my men will meet you on Coruscant as soon as you arrive on the planet. I've already transmitted your communicator's data."
"I look forward to meeting you," Revan bowed his head slightly, indicating a bow.
"It's a pleasure to work with you, Vaner," Jabba announced as he ended the contact.
The former Sith removed the polite smile from his face and sat on the bed. Communicating with a Hutt was quite an experience. However, cooperating with the cartel had many advantages. At least the resource and information base, a free sales market, and even its own bank were already good arguments. And help in resolving problems with authorities on many planets also seemed useful.
No matter how you look at it, it was necessary to be friends with Hutts... at least now, at this stage.
"Hmm, stage of what?" Revan chuckled to himself.
As if he had already planned everything for years to come and was now moving towards the goal. Although he knew nothing about the goal itself. And there was no plan at all.
The former Sith glanced at the Mandalorian mask.
Who was he kidding? He always had a plan!
In just a couple of days, he had found Bastila on occupied Taris, coming up with a crazy plan to win the races. And he had much less information, and fewer resources, than now. And even the Force was unavailable to him at that time!
Now he had a ship, allies, even a student. Only the goal was missing...
Or was there? Where was the Force leading him?
To train Anakin? Too simple and somehow... petty.
There was something more. Visions. The Force. Balance.
That's what was required of him! To restore the balance of the Force. True balance, not imposed by the Order's dogmas. Without tilting to one side or the other.
"Ambitious," Revan chuckled to himself. "Although, conquering the galaxy to save it – that was also quite a plan."
Suddenly, he felt lighthearted. His new life had a purpose. Even if it was strange and very distant, it was a purpose.
And the plan to achieve it, as it turned out, had already begun to form. Resources were needed... a lot of resources. Money, allies, connections... power... perhaps an army. It wasn't easy to change the galaxy. He knew that from personal experience.
A plan... Any plan begins with gathering information.
"First, we'll deal with Anakin and the Order. And we'll act based on the results," the former Sith said aloud.
There was still a certain Sith Lord, Maul's former master. He would have to meet him too.
The further actions would depend on the relationships that would develop with the Force adepts of this generation.
"It won't be boring," the ancient thought.
Grinning to himself, he took out his communicator and called HK.
He had to prepare for the flight.
Just a day later, the Eagle was descending onto the landing pad at one of Coruscant's spaceports. The capital of the Republic sparkled, as always, evoking a sense of nostalgia in Revan. He missed old acquaintances whom he would no longer meet in the Temple, in the numerous markets, or... at home. And there was no home anymore.
He was pulled from his sad reflections by HK's voice.
"Warning: Threat, Master," the droid said, shifting slightly to cover Revan with its body.
The hunter-assassin's hands already had a pair of blasters with their safeties disengaged.
The mentioned threat stood leaning against the wall, showing complete indifference to the newcomers with its entire demeanor. In response to the droid's actions, the figure in full Mandalorian armor merely turned its head towards them and HK.
"Good model. Mandalorian," the girl hidden under the armor assessed the blasters.
"Tira Nomad," Revan recognized her. "Unexpected meeting. I didn't think Jabba would send you."
The Mandalorian shrugged.
"Apparently, others had more important things to do," the girl replied, stretching her neck and casually observing a patrol of the Judicial Corps that had just entered. "And I, as it turned out, have nothing else to do but wait for you on a polluted megacity planet where law enforcers scurry everywhere."
"Alas, all roads lead to the capital," Revan spread his hands.
"Or from it," Tira retorted. "Do you have the package for our slippery friend?"
"Yes, but perhaps we should discuss it on the ship," the Jedi gestured behind him, where the Eagle was still visible on the pad.
"My mother forbade me to board suspicious ships. Especially if they are owned by equally suspicious individuals," the girl said in a sarcastic tone. "There's an apartment not far from here belonging to the cartel."
"And my father didn't tell me to go into apartments of strange girls. Especially if they are trained mercenaries or Mandalorians," the former Sith replied in the same tone as the girl.
"They are almost synonyms now. Mercenaries and Mandalorians," Nomad clarified.
"Then, a local cantina?" the Jedi suggested.
"A classic of spy novels?" the mercenary said sarcastically. "Although, there's nothing better here."
"Then, please," Revan gestured towards the port cantina.
The Mandalorian, shaking her head, repeated the man's gesture, as if hinting that she would not turn her back on him and the assassin droid.
Caution has never hurt anyone. Thus, the three of them headed towards the establishment in a straight line.
"You shouldn't have taken off your mask," Tira said a couple of minutes later.
"Don't like it?" Revan grinned.
"You look like a child," the girl returned his grin, which, however, couldn't be seen under the helmet.
"Appearances can be deceiving," the former Jedi said, slightly embarrassed.
Sometimes he forgot that he looked like a teenager, albeit a rather mature one. Even after the disguise for the Temple, he couldn't be given more than twenty.
"I don't care about your age, actually. Mandalorians sometimes throw even younger lads into battle if they're ready. And you, I have to admit, can do something."
"Then why this conversation?"
"They won't sell you alcohol," the mercenary said with a mocking drawl.
"I'll be safer," the Jedi parried.
The girl chuckled with clear approval in her voice.
"HK, you'll wait outside," Revan ordered as they approached the bar.
"Yes, master," the droid replied in a somewhat disappointed voice.
"Sorry, pal, no gutting a couple of meat bags today," the Jedi thought, patting the metallic maniac on the chest plate.
After all, it was too early to spoil relations with the Hutts. Of course, he could have brought R2, because this droid was calmer than the bloodthirsty HK, but Revan didn't trust him yet. Besides, the astromech remained on board the Eagle.
Inside, the cantina was unremarkable. A typical port dive with dirty tables, a rude Duro bartender, and annoying music. VERY annoying music... It felt like the musicians were stuck on one chord.
The Mandalorian apparently wasn't bothered by this. Though, nothing seemed to bother her. Including the patrons, who shied away from the mercenary in her easily recognizable armor as if from fire.
"So?" Tira settled at a corner table, her back to the wall, and assumed a demonstratively relaxed pose.
However, Revan could see that the girl was actually extremely focused and ready to attack at any moment.
It reminded him so much of the behavior of an old acquaintance that the man could barely suppress a smile. Mandalorians have always remained Mandalorians.
"You're not even going to drink anything?" the Jedi asked with a slight mockery in his voice.
"I'll be safer," his interlocutor replied, using his own words.
"As you wish."
"Let's get to the point," the mercenary reminded him of the purpose of the meeting.
Revan pulled a data chip from his pocket and placed it on the table.
"As agreed, straight from the Jedi Temple archives," Revan pushed the device towards the girl.
She took the chip and inserted it into a portable holoprojector, checking the data. The latter turned out to be encrypted.
Apparently, Jabba trusted the mercenary a lot to give her the key to the cipher, which Revan was supposed to use by agreement.
Above the Mandalorian's palm, a map of the galaxy sector known as the Kessel Run appeared – a very popular route among smugglers.
"And all for a map?" the girl asked in surprise.
Judging by the question, which was uncharacteristic for mercenaries, Tira was relatively new to this business. Or just very young and impulsive. Experienced soldiers of fortune don't ask questions. Unless they're paid for it.
"Yes. It's the most detailed map of the sector that the Jedi managed to compile. It's an order of magnitude more accurate than all known versions," Revan explained. "With it, an experienced pilot can shorten the route by 15 parsecs. A madman can do it in 12. I wouldn't advise flying closer to the anomalies of this zone without Jedi abilities."
"Now it's clear why Jabba is on pins and needles," Tira noted. "His pilots will be able to pass through this section much faster. Faster means more orders. And consequently, he'll snatch another decent chunk of business from Gardulla."
The girl's reasoning hit the mark. It was precisely these arguments that Revan used to convince Jabba to make a deal.
"Exactly," the ancient confirmed the mercenary's guess.
The girl put the chip and projector under her armor.
"Well, it's time to go back," she got up.
"Wait," Revan stopped the Mandalorian. "I have a proposal."
The idea came to the former Jedi suddenly, but it was quite sound. It remained to convince Nomad.
At first, he thought Tira assumed he was trying to hit on her and was already preparing to make a witty remark in response. However, she remained silent.
"I'm listening?" the girl sat back down, sensing something in her interlocutor's voice.
The proposal was business-related.
"I need help with something," Revan began indirectly.
"I don't work for free," Nomad reminded him.
"Not even at the cartel's request?" the man hinted at his good relations with Jabba.
"I'm a mercenary. I get paid, I work. I don't have a contract with you, and it clearly outlines my duties. So, no. Even if the great Desilijic Tiure himself contacted me and told me to help you, I could refuse with a clear conscience. And no, I'm not afraid of consequences. I have nothing to lose..." the girl clearly got embarrassed at the last phrase.
"I can pay," the Jedi offered.
"I have a generous employer. So, credits don't interest me."
"You can pay with more than just credits."
The last phrase clearly interested the girl. Revan even had the feeling that this was what she had been waiting for from the very beginning of the conversation. And her slip about "nothing to lose" was intentional. The interlocutor needed something. And only the Jedi could help.
"Well, I think we'll come to an agreement."