Black and silver lightsabers resounded, slicing through the air of the training hall aboard the "Obsidian." The cruiser had been in the repair dock of a private shipyard, actually belonging to "Republic Systems Sienar," for several days. Negotiations with Sienar and the agreement on the ship's reconstruction were not yet complete, so the repairmen were not in a hurry to board, but the damaged cruiser still had to enter the dock. The "Obsidian" had long needed "rest" and standard maintenance of its reactors and most systems. So, no matter how the negotiations ended, the ship needed this stop.
Revan, between meetings with Sienar, who had become enthusiastic about completely redesigning the ship created by his ancestors, and negotiations with representatives of worlds that had agreed to join the future Union, exhausted himself with training. Meditations were no longer of much help in coping with the storm of emotions and avalanche of events that were increasingly engulfing the former Jedi. Therefore, he decided to remember another way to clear his mind.
"Training helps to cope with emotions and clear the mind no worse than meditation," Revan recalled the words of one of his mentors, Arren Kai.
And the wise woman was right. Repeating well-known and practiced movements brought a much-needed particle of order to the chaos surrounding Revan. The steady hum of the lightsabers was calming, and with each new lunge, it became... easier? Yes, the former Jedi leaned towards this description of his feelings. It became easier... clearer. The lightsaber, straight and shining, like the thoughts of a Jedi. Or rather, a Jedi in the understanding of the Council and supporters of strict adherence to the Code. No tricks or evasiveness characteristic of Dark Side adepts... in the understanding of orthodox Light Side adherents, to whom Revan had never considered himself to belong. For him, the sword was a tool and a weapon, a symbol of the necessary decisiveness and cruelty that had to be used when words could not penetrate the opponent's soul. It was much easier to wield a sword than a word. A sword could not lie.
"Everyone lies. If someone says they never lie, they are lying to themselves," came the words of another mentor, Kreia.
The ability of this woman, whose age even in Revan's youth could be considered advanced, to strip away illusions with a good verbal slap always impressed her students. And Revan was no exception. From her, the former Jedi adopted the habit of always thinking critically, examining the situation from all sides and calculating the possible consequences of even his most altruistic actions. He remembered well that there was no such thing as absolute good, just as there was no absolute evil. Especially in a society of sentient beings.
Hah, that was another lie to himself. The habit of thinking and calculating rarely saved him from the consequences of his impulses.
The silver and black blades blurred in space like glowing ribbons as Revan turned to the wisdom of his mentors, simultaneously relieving stress with simple training and contemplating the information at his disposal.
And there was much to think about. A protracted game between Light and Darkness was unfolding in the galaxy, with new players revealing themselves. On one side, Sidious and his teacher, with whom they clearly disagreed, but still acted within a long-developed plan. On the other, the Jedi Order, most of whom preferred to pretend that nothing was happening and that their ancient enemy had long been defeated. Grand Master Yoda disagreed with the state of affairs and saw a way out in reforming the Order, but could not do it alone, for which he enlisted Revan's support. And now, someone else appears who is well-versed in Sith alchemy and clearly knows a lot about Revan and his surroundings. Is he connected to any of the aforementioned players, or is he a new and independent force? The latter option promised many problems, because if there was any information about Sidious and the Order, then about this new threat – only guesses.
There was hope that the analysis of the destroyed droid parts would shed light on this question. Even without factory markings, droid construction specialists would be able to identify the characteristic style of the design engineers and, with a high degree of certainty, even indicate the assembly line where such solutions were used. After all, someone didn't assemble several dozen identical machines by hand, did they? Although, anything was possible. If one had the necessary means and patience.
From what was already known, the droids were of special design and were not available for free sale in the Republic or Hutt space. The design was somewhat archaic and reminded Revan of droids from the Old Republic era, which led him to think about the existence of another Rakatan droid factory, but this idea had not yet been confirmed. Droids created in Rakatan automated factories, whether the "Factory" or the "Star Forge," were created using the Force, and Force-sensitives could feel something like a residual "aura" with sufficient concentration. In the machines that attacked him on Korriban, Revan felt nothing similar. Ordinary factory droids... empty...
And again, self-deception. These were not the thoughts that truly bothered him. This was not what he had been thinking about for the last few days.
The blades with a hum cut through the air and with a screech plunged into the side of an old container, recently used as a target for practicing padawan shooting skills under HK's supervision. Now, the metal box fell victim to the lightsabers and a brief surge of the former Jedi's anger.
"Feeling better?" came the voice of the blue-skinned Mandalorian from the entrance.
He had sensed her arrival a few minutes ago but didn't want to interrupt his training. He already knew why Kira had come. He also knew the topic of the upcoming conversation, but he wasn't eager to start it.
Nomad wanted to continue her training, completely ignoring the fact that she shared her body with another entity. In her opinion, this was not a problem. Revan was convinced otherwise, as the first attempt at a meditation session just yesterday had demonstrated. Contact with Bastila's consciousness through the Force had caused Shan's spirit to stir, which Kira tried to suppress. The conflict of two minds in one body ended in defeat for everyone, and Nomad's body simply collapsed in a faint. Fortunately, the examination revealed no injuries or brain damage, which, in general, did not resolve the emerging problem.
Revan had no idea how to train Kira further. Any interaction with the Force could provoke a new incident, so the two consciousnesses had to come to an agreement first. The former Jedi was sure that a direct conversation with Bastila would help. After all, since returning from Korriban, Revan had not been able to have a proper conversation with his long-lost wife. Nomad was not eager to give up her body to someone else's control and was, to put it mildly, not thrilled with the situation. And forcing her... no matter how much of a monster Revan had been in the past, having accepted the teachings of the Dark Side, he could not take such a step now. The very thought of subjugating a student to force her... to give up her body to an implant – was repugnant. Even with all the desire to do just that.
Well, running away from a student was not an option anyway. The problem needed to be solved.
"How are you feeling?" Revan asked, deactivating his swords and turning to Nomad.
The Mandalorian was in armor, but without a helmet. Revan suddenly thought that for more than a week, since the incident on the ancient Sith planet, the mercenary had not worn this piece of equipment on board the ship. It was almost impossible to read emotions on the blue-skinned warrior's face, although a real storm raged inside the girl, the echoes of which Revan felt in the Force.
Kira rolled her eyes, expressing her opinion on such a perfunctory question, but still answered.
"Tolerable. My leg has fully recovered. Apart from a headache and slightly subsided paranoia, nothing else bothers me."
She and Bastila were objectively not similar in appearance... but for some reason, Revan couldn't stop finding new common traits that linked the native of the Chiss Dominion with the ward of the Order, born thousands of years ago on unremarkable Talravin.
"I'm glad you're okay," the former Jedi managed to say.
Kira snorted in response.
"Don't pretend you're only worried about me. I serve as a vessel for another person who is much dearer to you, so why don't you ask me to arrange a heart-to-heart talk for you again?" Nomad said maliciously.
The mercenary's intuition was well-developed. After all, this trait manifested in all gifted individuals in one way or another. The Force liked to warn its adepts of what was coming, even if they didn't realize it. So, Kira's increased perceptiveness after accepting her Force abilities was not surprising.
"I know your attitude towards this issue, and I can understand your reaction. Therefore, I will not ask the same irritating question at every meeting. You are not a youngling to rely on your mentor's opinion in everything, and you can find the right solution yourself... sooner or later. I, as your teacher, can only promise that I will respect the choice you make."
Revan understood that what he had just said sounded foolish and hypocritical. He, hiding behind his status as a mentor, was putting the student in a choice: deal with your problem, or the training will stop here. And the problem was directly related to him.
"I want to continue training," Nomad said, as if ignoring Revan's words.
"It's impossible as long as you're fighting," Revan shook his head.
"Meditation is understandable, but I'm asking for sparring," Kira clarified.
"The lesson will still require the use of the Force to strengthen the body and practice techniques for handling such a specific weapon as a lightsaber."
"I'll manage," the Mandalorian stated confidently.
"It's not about willpower..." Revan tried to explain, but was interrupted.
"I'll manage."
The girl's tone indicated that she wouldn't even listen to objections. Revan, in turn, was not in the mood to argue and explain to Nomad again where she was wrong. The multifaceted nature of the Force was already difficult to explain in words. And if the student refused to listen and pay attention, then explanations became a complete waste of time and effort.
Mandalorians always perceived truth better through action than words. Kira, along with her upbringing, had adopted this trait.
"Well, as you wish. Let's have a training session," Revan agreed.
Nomad smiled triumphantly and walked to the center of the hall into an open space. The mentor followed her and stood opposite, tucking one of the swords to his belt. After all, Kira had only just begun to master the lightsaber and felt unsure even with one activated blade of her staff.
"Let's begin," Revan said, nodding to his student, activating the silver blade and taking a simple Shii-Cho stance.
Nomad also took the hilt of her staff, but, to Revan's surprise, both golden blades flared, and the girl confidently took an perfectly executed defensive Juyo stance.
"When you..."
Revan didn't have time to finish his question, as he had to quickly raise his sword to parry an unexpectedly aggressive and powerful lunge from his student. A short exchange of blows and an unexpected swing with a change of leading hand forced the former Jedi to drastically reconsider his training plans. Grasping the hilt of his sword in reverse grip, Revan switched to Niman, gradually weaving more movements from Form VII into the combat pattern, increasing the tempo with each minute.
Kira tried to keep up, which surprised and pleased her mentor. The girl skillfully rotated her staff and expertly changed her leading hand, as if she had been practicing with this weapon for many years. Even the longer grip of the staff, almost three palms longer than a one-handed sword, was used by the Mandalorian to gain an advantage in distance.
Impressed by his apprentice's sharply improved skills, Revan found himself increasingly turning to the Force to check who was actually controlling Nomad's body. The fighting style was different from Bastila's, more aggressive, but at the same time, this level of staff mastery was far beyond what Tira had demonstrated before. And by all sensations, it was the Chiss who was "at the helm," while Shan's presence was felt very weakly, as if she were hidden behind some veil.
Nomad started the fight quickly, sharply, aggressively, but with each minute she lost tempo and tired out. The lack of experience in sustaining her body with the Force was evident, which finally convinced Revan that Tira hadn't suddenly acquired all of Bastila's skills. Something, however, had clearly been passed from one to the other, and this needed to be figured out.
The result of the training was predictable – experience won. At some point, Tira failed to break the distance, falling for Revan's trick, after which she lost her weapon. The silver blade froze, almost touching the chest plate of Nomad's armor.
"Good fight," the former Jedi smiled, deactivating the blade.
Tira habitually snorted, displeased with the defeat and the contrived notes of condescension in her mentor's voice.
"How did you manage to improve your skills so much in such a short period? Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for your success, but I can't help but note the unnaturalness of such a qualitative leap forward," Revan asked, pulling the staff that once belonged to Bastila Shan towards him.
The apprentice didn't want to answer. The mentor understood this even without using the Force. It was enough to look at how her gaze darted away and her cheekbones tensed from clenched jaws.
"Do you feel this knowledge as your own, or does it come from somewhere far away?" Revan asked a new question, not taking his eyes off Tira's face.
For a moment, anger and resentment flared in her al-gold eyes. The girl clearly considered her achievements her own and rejected any hint to the contrary.
"Did anyone teach you besides me, Mol, or Risa?" Revan continued the conversation, which increasingly resembled an interrogation.
"No," Nomad exhaled sharply.
The former Jedi nodded, accepting the answer.
"Then think for yourself about how less than a week ago Farr almost killed you. Today, you showed a level of lightsaber staff mastery that Risa could only oppose in her dreams of boundless power. You are 'before Korriban' and 'after' – two different fighters in terms of preparation level. And what changed in you during this short period?"
Tira frowned with each word, and by the end of Revan's speech, she looked away, no longer able to withstand the pressure of the truth in her mentor's words.
"If you don't want to give me a chance to find out directly, then at least talk to her yourself," Revan handed the lightsaber staff to Tira.
Freezing for a moment with her hand extended towards the weapon, Nomad still took the long hilt of the staff from her mentor's hands.
Nodding to Revan in gratitude, the Mandalorian hurried to leave the training hall. She had a lot to think about... and a lot to discuss with the one who, until yesterday's fainting spell, had fiercely tried to break free and take control of Nomad's body. True, after that internal struggle, which ended in unconsciousness, the spirit that had attached itself to her on Korriban stopped trying and even, it seemed, closed itself off from her with some kind of barrier... As unpleasant as it was to admit, her mentor was right. Tira needed to talk to Bastila and resolve the issue of their co-existence.
The chirp of the communicator saved Revan from plunging back into a new wave of anxious thoughts and worries. Although, it would be more accurate to say that the fate remained the same. Only the thoughts changed.
Mol contacted him, asking Revan to fly to Coruscant as soon as possible. While carrying out a mission on Nar Shaddaa, the Zabrak had stumbled upon the trail of mercenaries who had participated in several Trade Federation operations, including the attack on Mandalore. The trail led the Sith to the Republic's capital, where, judging by several assassination attempts, he had managed to reveal himself and cross someone influential. But the reason for the summons was different. Mol, like all trusted individuals and informants, had received information from Revan about the droids that attacked him on Korriban, with an order to find the manufacturer. Just yesterday, the Zabrak had found a warehouse in the lower levels of Coruscant, where at least a hundred killer machines matching the mentor's description were waiting in an inactive state.
Mol would have continued to unravel this tangle on his own, following the thread to the organizer of it all, but today he suddenly received a message from his former master with a "request" not to interfere in Sith affairs, or he would end up like Hutt Monchar.
The message itself was strange. Sidious was not one to ask for anything or warn someone he considered a threat. And Mol, as a former apprentice, was definitely a threat in the Sith's eyes. Nor would he have so kindly informed a traitor that he had stuck his nose into the affairs of the Dark Adepts... let alone with a direct indication of the Sith. In the plural.
Mol understood this too. The mentor he remembered would have simply killed the Zabrak to get rid of the problem in its infancy, but here...
There were two options: either the author of the message was not Darth Sidious, or the message was not intended for Mol and served as a kind of invitation. A hook for curiosity that was supposed to draw Revan into a meeting with Sidious. A trap? Definitely. But it was made demonstrably clumsy to show relatively peaceful intentions. A peculiar way for the Sith to communicate that the guest would not be killed upon meeting... immediately. Well, the conversation could be interesting. And there were already enough matters requiring Revan's attention in the Republic's capital.
The question of transport arose. The "Eagle" had become too familiar and gave away Revan's approach even before landing at the spaceport. He didn't want to use civilian passenger flights. Too many customs checks and hassle with documents and tickets. Fortunately, Count Dooku's ship, which had diplomatic status, was still in the "Obsidian" hangar. Revan hoped the Count would not refuse him the favor and would help him get to the capital without unnecessary delays.
In an hour, the next meeting with Sienar was scheduled, which Dooku was also supposed to attend as the "official" client and "security guarantor." After all, the former Master of the Order had an impeccable reputation, which gave the head of the shipbuilding company confidence that the true owner of the relic cruiser would not play any tricks during negotiations. The paranoia of geniuses, what can you do...
On the way to the meeting, Revan stopped by the medbay to check on Mitra's condition. She was still floating in the bacta tank, recovering from the events on Korriban. Her heart, under the influence of bacta and Force healing techniques, had almost recovered, causing the medical droid to malfunction repeatedly in its logical circuits, requiring it to be "reset" once already. The appearance of her body, distorted by the Dark Side, still left much to be desired, but the recovery process was underway.
Having made sure that Surik was on the mend, Revan left the medical bay in the depths of the old cruiser and headed for the administrative complex of the repair shipyard, where the meeting was scheduled.
The Deputy Executive Director of Sienar Technologies had introduced himself to Revan at the previous meeting as Varro Arcis... which was a fake name. The former Jedi easily recognized Wright Sienar, whose photo and detailed dossier had been provided by "Claws" intelligence, in the young dark-haired man. The son of the current CEO of the company had a rather questionable reputation. In particular, he liked to change his name and documents, and then get hired by competing companies and steal their developments. According to rumors, the younger Sienar had already been targeted for assassination for this... so his wariness during the meeting and deception were understandable.
"Ah, Vaner! Our mysterious client. I'm glad you could find time for a meeting," Wright greeted Revan, who had introduced himself by one of his fake names.
"I wouldn't miss this meeting for anything, esteemed Varro," the former Sith replied to the greeting as he entered.
Dooku, also present in the room designated for negotiations, limited himself to a polite nod.
"Count, I will need to ask you for a favor," Revan addressed one of the rulers of Serenno.
"I will do everything in my power."
"We'll discuss it after the meeting."
"Certainly," Dooku agreed.
"Well, now, I suppose we should move on to what we are all here for?" Sienar suggested with a smile, adjusting the cuff of his expensive, even by appearance, business suit.
"The contract for the restoration of my ship," Revan agreed.
"Precisely," the shipbuilder nodded in agreement.
"As we discussed at the last meeting, we would like to receive not an exact replica of a ship designed four thousand years ago, but its modern and much more combat-capable version, preserving, as far as possible, the general dimensions and unique technologies used in its construction," Dooku interjected into the conversation.
"Yes, I remember. But you must also understand that the order describes a completely new ship. A unique prototype that will only partially use... hmm... motifs of its distant ancestor. For example, the split hull was once intended for the installation of a future weapon that was never developed by the Republic, and for covering small ships during takeoff from the main hangar. But such a solution affects the overall structural integrity and imposes a number of limitations on the placement of compartments and internal equipment..." Sienar continued, interrupting the Count.
"You've thought a lot about this project, haven't you?" Revan chuckled, noticing the engineer's enthusiasm.
"Clients don't often come with such orders, especially without strict budget limitations. As I understand it, the project does not involve mass production?"
"The prototype must demonstrate to us everything your engineering thought and the company's production capabilities are capable of. It must incorporate all advanced developments and surpass all known warships in the galaxy in terms of characteristics. Within reasonable limits, of course. After all, the dimensions themselves impose certain limitations," Revan spread his hands.
"Of course," Wright agreed.
"Otherwise, after testing the prototype, we will consider the issue of mass production of less advanced versions of the ship, taking into account the needs and budget of our organization," the former Sith finished his thought.
Sienar was informed that the ships would be paid for from the fund of a private trading company and used for protection against threats in deep space and far from major docks. The shipbuilder was confident that the unnamed organization planned a series of expeditions beyond the Outer Rim into the Unknown Regions, which was close to his spirit. Not long ago, Wright himself was engaged in exploring the galaxy and charting hyperspace routes. Even in well-studied sectors, serious dangers were sometimes encountered, so the engineer's plans paid considerable attention to the armament and armor of the future cruiser.
"I understand your requirements. Many of our developments are still experimental... and have not undergone final testing. Essentially, it's just a matter of patenting and final certification. Do you consider installing them on your ship?" Sienar asked cautiously.
"As I said, we need everything you are capable of. If the technology is experimental but functional and does not pose a threat to the ship or crew, there will be no objections," Revan nodded in agreement.
"Then I propose to consider the preliminary design of the reworked load-bearing structure and a prototype of a new type of power plant," Wright said with a smile, activating the holoprojector on the table.
A hologram of a wedge-shaped ship appeared before them, only the upper part of which, with its rounded shapes, resembled the "Interdictor." Long hours of discussion followed, but no one complained.