A semi-darkness reigned in the Mandalorian mercenary's cabin aboard the "Dawn Eagle." The only source of light was a lantern mounted above a small workbench, which the girl used to keep her weapons and armor in working order.
Nomad knew her weapons almost better than her own lineage, and she took care of her armor like a beloved pet. For a moment, the thought of comparing it to caring for a child appeared in the girl's mind, but she quickly dismissed it as completely inappropriate... and exhaled in annoyance, catching herself in an uncharacteristic thought.
How did she know what caring for a child was like? Not just the abstract concept of parental love, but genuine concern for her own offspring? Where did this knowledge of the hardships and joys of a parent's life come from? She was young, she had never had children... childhood in the Dominion, with its traditions, discipline, and strict upbringing in family and academy, did not foster sentimental impressions of caring for the younger generation. Not to mention her life as an "orphan" among the Mandalorians. The clan comes first... but the clan is not family.
So where did it come from?
This was not the first time Tira had noticed actions, deeds, and even thoughts that were completely uncharacteristic of her. Alien knowledge and habits... but for some reason, so close that they were not so easy to recognize. Like impressions from something long forgotten, but familiar...
And it all began on that fateful day on Korriban. The day she became someone else...
"No, I didn't become..." Tira corrected herself aloud.
She felt the presence of that other consciousness and could successfully contain it, not letting it control her body or her own thoughts. But sometimes, something still seeped through...
Even now, Nomad looked at the deactivated lightsaber staff lying on the workbench and understood how to disassemble it, what parts were used in its assembly, what could be improved, and what could be refined... Although she had never delved into the intricacies of Jedi weapons. Here, she almost remembered how a handful of parts hung before her in the air, held by the Force, how step by step she assembled her future weapon, encasing the yellow kyber crystal in a metal casing that would become the long hilt of the staff.
Not hers...
From birth, Tira had been forced to fight for her future. First in the Dominion, then among the Mandalorians... And, despite all her efforts, nothing had changed. Again a struggle, again a stake – the future.
Only this time, the enemy was not lurking outside... it was hidden inside.
This nagging feeling of being watched over your shoulder...
"Can you hear me?" the Mandalorian whispered into the void.
But there was no answer. And who was there to answer her, when there was no one in the cabin but Tira? Or was there?
The question was addressed to the one who, almost ten days ago, had saved her life on Korriban, and then made her experience the most terrible fear of her life – to remain a prisoner in her own body, losing control over it.
At first, that other, whose name Nomad did not want to utter, fearing, though it was some superstitious and foolish fear, that by doing so she would give her more strength, made several attempts to take Tira's body under control per day. But by the third day, everything had changed. This moment coincided with Revan's attempt to give the Mandalorian an opportunity to communicate with her "fellow traveler" during meditation. An experience she did not want to repeat... Another attempt by the "other" to break free turned into a mental confrontation, in which Tira began to lose almost immediately. But on her side was the fact that the body originally belonged to her. The attempt to push Nomad's consciousness into the background almost led to the death of the shell, which the mentor managed to prevent. And after that, the interloper suddenly went into hiding, as if separating herself from Tira with some kind of barrier. There were no more attempts to take control from the mercenary... but at the same time, uncharacteristic thoughts and desires began to manifest. Knowledge that the girl had never received appeared from somewhere... and the skills of handling a previously unfamiliar lightsaber staff suddenly reached a level that would have taken years of training.
Tira was not a fool and immediately noticed the connection between the oddities. But she didn't know what to expect next. How far could this strange exchange go? Or was it an exchange at all? What if the "guest" was gradually "rewriting" Nomad's consciousness, preparing the ground for a sudden and this time fatal blow to the mercenary's mind?
And she couldn't go to her mentor for advice. In this situation, Tira was in no hurry to trust him. After all, the "other" was dear to him... very dear. And the fact that she had returned to the world of the living, albeit in such a perverted way, could not leave him indifferent. And Nomad had already noticed this. The look Revan gave her. Ten days ago, the mercenary would have given anything for her mentor to look at her like that... but this care and love that emanated from him were not meant for her. Every time he looked for the "guest's" features in her. He longed to see... Bastila instead of Tira.
The mercenary felt something "stir" at the edge of her consciousness. Like an echo at the limit of hearing, repeating a name so irritating that she didn't want to utter it even in her thoughts...
And yet, things had started to improve between Tira and Revan. Yes, he still resisted her advances, refusing to accept the young Mandalorian's feelings, but Tira was ready to wait and gradually force
this "fortress" to capitulate. And something was even working. Small victories, invasions of personal space, lessons alone...
And it all went to waste!
But Tira was not going to give up. She couldn't afford to back down! She would achieve her goal! Definitely!
But first, she had to solve the "internal" problems. Revan's training must continue, which means she had to meditate. And the "neighbor" should not interfere with this.
Well, Mandalorians and Jedi sometimes formed short-term alliances... why not try a similar approach now?
Taking the staff in her hands, Tira settled on her bed, sitting in a comfortable meditation pose that Revan had shown her.
Gathering all her will and determination, Nomad took a deep breath and said: Bastila.
Her consciousness seemed to collapse into darkness and rush away somewhere. The surrounding sounds disappeared, as did the mercenary's cabin... as did the ship. Tira felt herself floating in weightlessness among myriad stars, whose brilliance began to appear everywhere, forming the familiar sight of the endless cosmos to the Mandalorian.
The sensations were strikingly different from simple meditation, which frightened the mercenary. However, she herself had decided on this dangerous step, and therefore tried to keep herself in hand... although she did not fully realize what was happening. Or rather, she had no idea what was happening...
The alien presence manifested gradually. Nomad began to feel the barrier erected by her "neighbor" thinning and gradually disappearing, returning the feeling of anxiety from being looked at from behind.
She didn't have to turn around; the outlines of a semi-transparent figure emerged from the darkness, which Tira recognized from a hologram she had once noticed in Revan's cabin.
Bastila Shan... A dangerous rival for Nomad, not only in the fight for the body but also in the war for her chosen one's heart.
"Greetings, Tira Nomad. I didn't expect you to call me so quickly," Shan spoke first.
In the cold voice of the woman who had long left the world of the living, there was surprise mixed with a touch of arrogance, but no trace of threat or anger, which Tira had subconsciously expected.
"We have a common problem that needs to be solved," Nomad said confidently.
"And what problem are we talking about? That by a twist of fate we share one shell? Or about your feelings for my husband?" Shan replied with a light, but slightly sad smile.
The mercenary gritted her teeth, catching the notes of condescension in her interlocutor's words. Bastila had an advantage over Tira regarding Revan, and Shan was using it. At the same time, her facial expression betrayed more sadness and fatigue, mixed with a strange concern... As if an experienced mother were guiding a daughter confused in her feelings...
Nomad even shook her head to drive away this association. She had no reason for it. Nothing connected her to the long-dead Jedi... to this Jedi, at least. Tira had not forgotten her very distant kinship with Arren Kai.
"The body first," Nomad stated.
Bastila nodded and straightened up, clasping her hands behind her back and lifting her chin, vividly reminding Tira of several diplomats whose speeches she had once seen on the HoloNet with her posture.
" 'You could sculpt a statue out of her and display it in the Senate corridors'," the mercenary chuckled to herself.
The momentary silence was broken by Bastila's quiet laughter.
"I haven't been compared to a statue yet," she explained the reason for her amusement to her interlocutor... which shocked Tira.
"Are you reading my mind?!" the Mandalorian hissed, hiding her fear behind anger.
"I don't need to read them. I hear them just as you hear mine. We are closer now than anyone, since, in essence, we are one whole. Two consciousnesses linked in one body, with one brain for two."
And Tira, who hadn't had time to truly get indignant, suddenly realized that Shan was telling the truth. The mercenary indeed knew what her interlocutor was thinking about. She felt her emotions and mood... thoughts and desires.
And it was strange... Not at all what Nomad had expected when preparing for this conversation.
"You don't want to take control..." Tira exhaled in surprise.
Shan shook her head.
"Not entirely. I don't want to take it by force. Your body is your body. I am just a guest here who was not invited... and whose very existence goes against the laws of the universe," Bastila corrected her interlocutor.
The mercenary did not expect such an answer. She thought that Shan also burned with the desire to break free and feel alive again. To return to the world! To reunite with Revan, finally!
"But... why?" Nomad didn't understand her interlocutor.
Bastila smiled sadly.
- I have lived my life, and I lived it to the fullest. I had adventures, experiences... love and family, albeit for a very short time. I returned to the Force with almost no regrets, which is why I didn't look for ways to linger in the world as a ghost.
- But you tried to break free when I first tried to meditate after... the incident on Korriban! - Tia reminded her of the time she clearly felt a struggle for control over her body, and then a confrontation in the Force, which forced Revan to intervene.
Then, according to her mentor, she could have died. Because of this incident, even training had to be postponed, and Revan himself began to avoid his student. Nomad understood that he did it so as not to provoke a confrontation between the two personalities unnecessarily... but it was still... hurtful. It hurt to feel abandoned.
- I apologize for that incident... As well as for several similar ones in the first days of our... forced coexistence, - Shan said, bowing her head slightly.
- Apologies? - Tia asked again.
- I couldn't help myself. The shock of realizing I was alive, the fight with the Sith, and then meeting a long-lost lover... all of it overwhelmed me too much. Emotions took over, and I felt like Bastila again, as if I had only moments ago stood with Revan on the balcony of our apartment on Coruscant. Before Vaner was born... before my husband left for another battle... from which he never returned, - Shan said, her posture becoming more relaxed as she spoke.
Tia didn't know what to say to that. Some part of her understood her interlocutor perfectly... but another part felt sharp pangs of anger and jealousy.
- Even now, I still can't figure out who I am. Bastila Shan, pulled from oblivion by a ritual? A fragment of her consciousness that didn't fully merge with the Force, and therefore responded to a call that promised a meeting with a loved one? Or perhaps an artificial entity created from the streams of the Force and endowed with the traits of one who should have long since dissolved into Eternity?
Nomad remained silent, not interrupting her interlocutor even with an accidental sigh... especially since breathing in this space, as it turned out, was not necessary at all.
- I don't feel... whole. I don't remember much and I get confused about what's in my memory. It's as if several versions of my personality have been combined within me, torn from different periods of my life... A naive girl who came to the Temple, who is angry at her mother and can't break ties with her father. A self-confident student who rejects the offer to join those who disagree with the Council's decisions regarding the Mandalorian Wars. A Padawan who felt her helplessness in battle with Darth Revan on the bridge of his flagship... and then saved his life. A prisoner on Taris, a prisoner on Leviathan, a captive of Malak...
For a moment, Tia felt an icy chill that made even the starlight around suddenly begin to dim.
- A wife and mother who lost... a piece of her heart. A mentor... Everything is so mixed up. Even now, fully accepting my situation, I feel how that Bastila, who returned with Revan after the destruction of the Star Forge, is breaking free. That's why I erected a barrier that was supposed to protect you, child.
- It didn't work, - Tia shook her head, remembering why she had started this conversation at all.
- Yes, it didn't work, - Shan agreed.
- How do I know what I shouldn't? Where did these skills come from? From you? - Nomad asked directly.
- Yes. From that part of me that yearns for freedom. And something from a more mature part of me, so that it's easier for you to protect yourself.
- How deep is this influence? Could it be that one day I will have more of your experience than my own? You yourself said that you lived a long life, while I... am only at the beginning of my path. How can I be sure that you won't take my place one day? - Tia said, trying to control herself.
A bizarre cocktail of fear, anger, and jealousy made her voice tremble.
- You can't, - Shan replied.
- What?
- You can't be sure of that. No one can. Not even me.
- But...
- Moreover, I don't know what our too long or active interaction will lead to. Will one replace the other? Will we lose our differences, mixing so much that we merge into a single mind? Or will we simply both perish? I don't know what will happen next, - Bastila added.
These words were not at all calming, nor were they supposed to be. Tia knew and understood all this herself. It was quite possible that Shan's ghost was merely voicing Nomad's own thoughts and experiences. The future was frightening... and alluring.
- I can't just sit and wait, - Nomad shook her head.
- I know, - Bastila nodded in agreement.
- I need to continue training... - the mercenary tried to hide her fleeting thoughts behind a businesslike tone.
It didn't work.
- And you need Revan, - Bastila finished for her interlocutor.
Denying it was pointless.
- Yes. But I want him to choose me himself. Me, not the memory of you that he so desperately tries to see in me. I see his gaze... I want him to look at me like that...
- But for that, he has to let me go... - Shan responded understandingly.
- Yes.
- You want me to convince him to leave the past in the past?
Tia nodded confidently.
Bastila closed her eyes, as if thinking about something and making a decision. She didn't need to say anything, because, as the Jedi had mentioned at the beginning of their conversation, their thoughts were one.
Shan winced as if in pain and covered her face with her hands. Nomad echoed the torment that suddenly engulfed her interlocutor.
- I can't let him go... - Bastila whispered.
- Neither can I, - Tia replied.
- I want to be with him...
- Me too...
- But I don't want to take your life... I can't sacrifice someone for my passions. And Revan won't like such a price, - Bastila said in an even tone, despite the ghostly tears streaming down her translucent face.
- So, the fight will continue... but honestly, - Nomad declared.
Shan caught her mood and intentions.
- He will make his choice himself, - she nodded in agreement.
- We need to decide how we will interact...
- And talk to Revan...
- Yes, and that too, - Tia agreed.
The conversation was not going to be easy... and it clearly threatened to take more than an hour.
Meanwhile, Revan warily watched the strange disturbances in the Force, which for some reason inspired a feeling of anxiety mixed with hope for something good. A strange feeling.
The incomprehensible feeling distracted him from his training with his youngest students, who were simply burning with enthusiasm. It wasn't often they had the chance to train together. But now, while the ship was traveling in hyperspace to Coruscant, there was time, and Revan wasn't going to waste it.
Anakin had significantly improved his lightsaber skills, now almost on par with his sparring partner. And this, considering that Rina had been training at the Temple for several years, while Skywalker had only taken up a blade a few months ago. Oda'Bar was still slightly faster than Anakin, but he was closing the gap every day, which the Zabrak girl also noticed, pushing herself harder in training. Their budding friendship, strengthened by shared misfortunes due to the incident with the "Obsidian," only fueled their competitive spirit, which positively affected the success of both students. Revan helped with advice and corrected their training whenever he had a free minute. The mentor's involvement in the training process was sufficient for now. After all, they were strengthening the foundation of general knowledge that the girl had received at the Temple, and Anakin from the records provided by Revan, copied from the Archives of the Order or taken from old datachrons found on the "Obsidian." Revan had even written some things himself, based on his own training experience. But soon, this would not be enough. A Padawan must develop through interaction with their mentor, absorbing their wisdom and gradually integrating into the "real world" beyond the hothouse conditions of the Temple or Academy. Many, in Revan's memory, had a very difficult adaptation period, especially in times when wars raged in the galaxy. The Order teaches that the world is full of dangers and injustices, and a Jedi must be prepared to face them to become a defender of peace. But talking about the horrors of the slave trade or the decline of worlds where the psychotropic substance trade flourishes is one thing. But to see it with your own eyes... The mentor's task in such moments was to restrain the student's noble impulses and teach them to control themselves, so as to avoid an overly emotional reaction and, as a consequence, immersion into the alluring and seemingly safe abyss of the Dark Side. Surely nothing will happen from a drop of righteous anger? But extinguishing the subsequent flash of rage on your own might not be possible.
But now it was a period of peace... relative, but still. No major conflicts affecting more than a few worlds were observed. But this would not last long. A lull before the storm.
- Teacher, - Skywalker addressed his mentor when another round of their training duel with Rina ended in favor of the Zabrak girl.
Oda'Bar surprised even Revan by skillfully using Trakata, which allowed her to bypass Anakin's defense and strike him in the chest with a training saber. Revan had only shown this move to his students a couple of times... Skywalker hadn't mastered it yet, and it was too early for him to move on to such techniques, but Rina, it seemed, had been practicing on her own. But even so... Talent. Even if it was just one of the simplest moves in the rather extensive art of Trakata. Simply disabling the blade for a moment before it collided with the opponent's blocked blade also required a certain skill.
- Yes, Enkain? - Revan prepared to listen to his student's question.
- What are the disadvantages of a lightsaber compared to a classic metal one? You said there were some when I started my training, - the young man asked.
It seemed that the defeat, coupled with his friend's smirk, had wounded him deeply.
- Hmm, if we look specifically at the convenience in fencing, then there's only the need to overcome a certain resistance due to the gyroscopic effect of the plasma loop. But this is easily compensated for with the Force. In a broader sense, including combat application, a clear disadvantage is the need for battery recharging. Although energy is only spent when the loop is interrupted by an obstacle, if, for example, the saber cuts something, there are still losses. A metal blade, on the other hand, is always ready for battle, even if it's not sharpened.
- But saber duels don't last long enough for the power cell to discharge. And replacing it, if accessible, would take a couple of seconds, - Rina remarked.
- A couple of seconds in combat is an eternity, - Anakin declared dramatically, trying to imitate Revan's mentorly tone.
Oda'Bar couldn't help but chuckle.
- The young "master" Skywalker is right here, - the mentor nodded with a smile and ruffled the young man's hair.
Anakin beamed in response to his teacher's praise.
- And don't forget that combat is far from always a duel. There can be many opponents, you can be cut off from supplies and help. Believe me, multi-hour battles are a reality of any major conflict. So always calculate your strength and note escape routes, hiding places for a breather, and everything in your surroundings that can make the fight easier for you and harder for the enemy.
Both students nodded energetically, listening to their mentor's words.
- Returning to the type of weapon and prolonged battles, the lightsaber has another disadvantage related to the blade. Who can say what it is? - Revan asked.
For a few moments, the students thought intently, clearly considering options.
- Perhaps the fact that a lightsaber blade leaves burns, not cuts? - Rina suggested.
- Correct. A lightsaber cannot leave a bleeding wound, as the plasma of the blade instantly cauterizes the wound. And here there is an advantage in quick duels, as the pain shock from a burn hits the nervous system much harder than a cut. A light touch will be enough to make the opponent lose their step, change the direction of their strike, or even drop their weapon. A cut, especially with a very sharp blade, might not even be felt immediately.
- And in a prolonged duel, bleeding wounds help weaken the opponent, right? - Anakin guessed the next part of the answer.
- Exactly. A few seemingly non-dangerous wounds at the beginning of a fight can lead to defeat within half an hour. Especially when constant movement prevents the wounds from closing, - the mentor added.
- Where did you get such knowledge? - Rina asked, looking at Skywalker in surprise.
- At Jabba's arena, there were often fights between slaves or animals. Watto took me with him a couple of times as a mechanic when droids were pitted against a slave, - the young man replied, grimacing slightly with disgust at the end.
The memories were clearly not pleasant.
- Terrible... - Oda'Bar whispered.
- For the Outer Rim worlds, Hutt Space, and many other regions, such cruelty has long been the norm. You have yet to understand this, but it's better to prepare in advance. And part of that preparation is knowing how to protect yourself and those who will need your protection. So, one more round, - Revan clapped his students on the shoulders and turned them towards the circle marked on the floor of the compartment.
With thoughtful expressions, the Padawans took their practiced stances, only to cross blades again a moment later.
Revan was glad that his students were not shy about asking the right and interesting questions. And they didn't ignore his words, trying to perceive them through the prism of their own limited experience, which might help them not to break in the future. And it seemed that the moment when Revan would have to take a much closer grip on their training would come very soon.
The training of the young ones, however, did not prevent him from contemplating the upcoming meeting.
And there was something to contemplate. Maul had contacted him again and reported that he had found one of his former mentor's hideouts. The trail that led the Zabrak to his target was left so clearly that there was no doubt it was a trap. However, such a trap, in the Sith understanding, could also be considered an invitation. Maul had tried to follow the thread further, to the organizers of the trap, but had encountered an obstacle. And this obstacle was armed with a lightsaber. There was no fight at that time, but a message for Revan was conveyed through Maul.
Sidious wanted a meeting... and the Sith had a new apprentice. According to Maul's estimates, a former Jedi. He has a good foundation from the Order, but is almost untrained in concealment techniques, which rules out the version of a new assassin. Rather, a quick replacement, so that there would be someone to send with messages.
But the fact of the invitation was undeniable. And Revan even guessed what it might be related to. In addition to the "small putsch" on Mandalore and the strengthening of Naboo's influence in the plasma market, with the support of Serenno and Alderaan, which had already set in motion the stagnant economic mechanisms of the Republic, the Trade Federation had also received another slap in the face, losing several ships. The company "Star Forge," formed after the merger of the seemingly less noticeable "Obsidian" transport network and "Mandal Motors," was gaining increasing popularity on Coruscant and in the Mid-Rim sectors. And now, on Korriban, someone was performing a dark ritual. The Sith would not let such a thing pass. The only question was, what role did Sidious play in the latter event? Did he know, did he participate? Or did he just sense the consequences?
Well, it's better to find out everything in person. And checking on things on Coruscant wouldn't hurt either.
Especially since Anakin had been asking for a meeting with his mother for a long time. And since there was an opportunity, the mentor allowed his student to warn his mother about the upcoming visit. At the same time, he would be under supervision while Revan was at the meeting. The former Jedi did not intend to sever the boy's ties with his blood relatives, as was customary in the Temple. Shmi Skywalker remained another anchor for the boy, which would help pull him out if he slipped too deep into the Dark Side. Or, conversely... Time would tell.
The flight took almost another day, which allowed for better preparation for possible troubles and gave Maul time to conduct more thorough reconnaissance.
Mithra was still floating in bacta, recovering her strength and repairing her mutilated body, so there was no counting on her support.
To Revan's surprise, even Tyra refused to leave her cabin. The mercenary cited the need to sort herself out and resolve the pressing issue with her training and asked for time to be alone. Revan didn't insist. Especially since Maul and the "Claws" would be enough for cover now. HK distinguished himself by guarding Anakin and Rina during the boy's visit to his mother, which the assassin droid did not greatly appreciate.
In the docks belonging to the "Claws" transport company, where the "Eagle" had landed, Revan and his team were met by Maul and a vaguely familiar protocol droid.
- Master, - the Zabrak greeted his mentor, bowing.
- Maul, - Revan replied.
- Threepio! - Anakin exclaimed unexpectedly and jumped towards the protocol droid.
- Creator! - the droid responded joyfully, eliciting a strange sound, like a snort, from HK.
The protocol droid turned out to be the very droid Anakin had assembled on Tatooine. At their last meeting, if Revan's memory served him correctly, it was not yet fully assembled. And Revan hadn't seen this droid on his last visit to Shmi's apartment before leaving for Naboo. Apparently, it had arrived on Coruscant with the boy's belongings, after which it had been brought to working condition here. In general, with the initial capital that Revan had allocated to his student's mother when he arranged housing for her on the capital planet, hiring a droid specialist would not be difficult.
After a quick farewell to the Padawans, who, accompanied by C3-P0 and HK-47, hurried to leave the docks, Revan requested a detailed report from Maul on the situation.
- We have agreed on the meeting place, Master, - the Zabrak informed him.
- Where and when? - Revan asked dryly.
- Today, an hour before midnight, on the lower levels. A house on the border of the "Blood Claws" territory and the area controlled by the "Justice Corps."
- Justice Corps? On the lower levels? - Revan was surprised, having a pretty good idea of the scale of lawlessness that occurred beneath the glittering facades of the capital's districts.
- Formally, yes. In practice, however, no one has seen a single patrol in that area for many years. However, something restrains crime and prevents local gangs from running wild, creating an illusion of order. So, someone is still in control of the region, but they are not advertising it, - Maul added.
- So, almost neutral territory?
- As much as possible. With your permission, I have enlisted the "Claws" to guard the meeting place. Only from the outside, of course, and in case it's necessary to cover our retreat.
Revan nodded favorably.
- The transport is ready for departure, - the Zabrak indicated one of the speeders in the parking lot near the dock.
- Excellent. We'll stop by the "Claws" briefly, and then head to the meeting place.
The routine "inspection" was unremarkable in Revan's memory and was only meant to pass the time before the meeting. Ran Fevro enthusiastically spoke about the successes of his organization, which, of course, served only for the good of their benefactor. In contrast, the laconic Pana Dek reported on the situation with the "Claws'" military power and, consequently, the security of "Obsidian"... or rather, now the Coruscant branch of "Star Forge." Revan remembered how this woman with a small fleet of company ships had helped repel the attack on Mandalore and listened to the report with interest. There was a shortage of ships. There were plenty of people capable of piloting them, but the trading company still lacked equipment. Revan promised to solve the problem in the near future.
While talking with the "Claws," the time for the meeting had also passed unnoticed, so, having checked his armor and weapons one last time, Revan, accompanied by Maul, headed to the designated location.
At the entrance to the building, Sidious's new apprentice, about whom Maul had warned Revan, was already waiting for them. Revan, seeing the figure wrapped in a black robe, merely grunted, suppressing a chuckle. Theatricality.
With a light Force influence, the former Jedi, with a gust of wind, made the hood covering the stranger's face move back slightly.
- Well, hello Tal-Nar-Pal, - Revan said with a smirk, recognizing the student of Ronar Kima, whom Jinn, apparently, had not finished off on Mandalore after all.
The Cerean angrily adjusted his hood and reached for his weapon, but stopped abruptly, as if receiving an order. Maul was already ready for battle, but also froze, obeying his mentor's short gesture.
- If you don't want to show your face, wear a mask, - Revan advised, snapping his fingers at the protection covering his own face.
Judging by the Zabrak's grin, he appreciated the mockery of his former mentor's new apprentice. He himself had never hidden his face, preferring to remain completely unnoticed, and eliminating those who did notice him.
- They are waiting for you, - the Cerean said, grinding his teeth.
- Lead the way, - Revan briefly nodded towards the entrance of the building.
They didn't have to go far. A cozy dining room had been prepared for negotiations, with the furniture restored and even a small tray with a couple of decanters filled with wine prepared.
- A friendly meeting over a glass before bed? - Revan inquired, assessing the situation.
Sidious, and by the feelings in the Force, it was him, sat at the head of the table, twirling one of the glasses filled with a burgundy liquid in his hand.
- "Naboo Dawn" never hurt anyone before bed. And the harvest, collected thirty years ago, was surprisingly good, - the interlocutor replied in a hoarse voice.
- Alas, I won't appreciate it this time, - Revan ran a finger along the edge of his mask.
- As you wish, - Sidious shrugged and brought the glass to the impenetrable blackness of his hood to take a sip.
The trick that revealed his "student's" face, whose status Revan strongly doubted, would not work with the prepared gifted one. The Sith surrounded himself with the Force, ready for battle at any moment, and Revan felt it clearly. He himself acted the same way.
- Please, sit down. And may I dispense with formalities and titles? - Sidious addressed Revan.
The tone of the conversation was strange. If last time the interlocutor didn't believe that Revan was truly who he claimed to be, this time it was the exact opposite. He believed that he was facing a powerful Force-sensitive, but felt no fear... or he skillfully masked it with such familiarity. It was clear that he wanted to engage in dialogue as an equal, discarding titles and the peculiar Sith etiquette that his mentor had instilled in him through pain. Well, Revan had always been against excessive formalities. Why not play by those rules?
"Your invitation was unexpected, considering our past acquaintance," Revan said, taking a seat opposite his interlocutor, on the other side of the table.
Mol stood frozen like a silent statue behind the mentor's right shoulder. Cerean mirrored his position, standing next to Sidious.
"Everyone makes mistakes," the Sith replied, waving his hand as if swatting away an annoying fly.
"And yet, what is the reason? And whose initiative is it? Yours or your master's?" Revan asked, deliberately emphasizing the last word.
The interlocutor quickly suppressed the flash of anger that momentarily flared up.
"Plagueis is one of the reasons for our meeting, but not its initiator."
This phrasing already told Revan a lot. It seemed that Darth Plagueis was involved in the events on Korriban. Moreover, he hadn't involved his student, which clearly worried the latter.
"The student becomes the teacher?" Revan guessed, hinting that Sidious had decided to break free from his mentor's influence.
"Alas, not as planned," the interlocutor replied.
It turned out that the attempt had failed. Or rather, the "teacher" had survived the attempt and now knew of the "student's" intention to shed the collar and leash. A familiar situation.
"And how does this relate to me?" Revan inquired.
"My... mentor decided to write me off and even acquired a couple of toys among the Jedi to compensate for possible losses, but his main interest is in you... Revan."
"This news is outdated," Revan scoffed.
"Perhaps, but Plagueis won't give up so easily. Believe me, he has enough means and influence to find you in any corner of the galaxy. And no matter how powerful you are, there will always be a way to capture or kill you."
There was truth in the interlocutor's words, though it was presented from an angle that benefited him. Anyone could indeed be killed or captured. Especially when flying a freighter, not a war cruiser. A salvo from a heavy turbolaser, and that's it – the Force-sensitive would become a bizarre cloud of cosmic dust. And with Plagueis's experiments, who had already managed to pull Revan out of unity with the Force after death, one couldn't even count on rest in the afterlife. Such an opponent should not be ignored.
"I know that without your warning. Get to the part where you need something from me," Revan replied calmly.
"It depends on how clearly you see the situation in the galaxy."
"You mean the upcoming war?"
Sidious nodded.
"A galactic conflict that will affect all known regions, all the way to the Outer Rim."
"I assume that was the Sith's plan, right? To create chaos, burn the old order in the fires of war, and build a new one in its place. A very old, but reliable scheme," Revan chuckled at the end.
"Crude, but generally correct."
"Based on what's happening now, the Republic was planned to be torn apart and the worlds concentrated at two poles. The first, of course, will be Coruscant and the official Republic government led by the Senate and the Chancellor. Here, too, will be the support of the Jedi, who can be thrown into the thick of it under the guise of defending democracy, where not a trace will remain of the 'knights of justice' who have grown unaccustomed to major wars. The second pole will be some kind of union of those who disagree with the Republic's policies. The Trade Federation is already standing out sharply, followed by the Techno Union, and even without the participation of other worlds, that's a strong army and technological base. Just keep supplying resources for stamping out droids and ships. And they will most likely be supported by adepts of the Dark Side. So to speak, to create a classic image of the 'center of evil' for ordinary people and to provoke the Jedi even more."
Sidious chuckled with interest at Revan's deductions.
"But the Republic has no army... The 'Justice Corps' doesn't count – they can't even deter pirates anymore. The militia can't be assembled quickly, so it will have to be prepared in advance. But even so, the opposing side will have a clear advantage in forces... Hmm, unless both sides are controlled by one player. A puppet master who will pull the strings, playing one side against the other, until the true goals of the entire conflict are achieved. And that, most likely, is the establishment of Sith rule and the destruction of the Jedi Order. Am I assessing the situation correctly?" Revan finished.
"Surprisingly accurate, considering you only recently joined this game. The decision to contact you was the right one," Sidious complimented.
A crude attempt at manipulation, put on display to relax the interlocutor.
"Let's skip the flattery. This meeting wouldn't have happened if everything had gone according to plan, right? So, has something changed?" Revan assumed.
The interlocutor remained silent for almost a minute, clearly assessing the threat of open play and deciding whether to reveal some of his cards at this stage. Not every card in a game of Pazaak could change its value. Such ones were best saved.
"Not everything, but much has. In particular, we will now have to fight honestly," Sidious finally said.
"And who are you assigned to command?"
"The Senate and the Republic. A predetermined losing hand if nothing is done right now. Even if everything is still in the preparation stage, and even by forcing events, Plagueis won't be able to quickly unleash a full-scale war, but there's very little time for preparation. No more than ten years. That's a perfectly realistic timeframe for gathering forces..."
"But not on a galactic scale," Revan finished for his interlocutor.
The former general and ruler of the Empire knew from his own experience how difficult it was to build defenses with a lack of time and resources. Especially in peacetime. Try to convince the Senate of the need to act, wait for budget approval, find resources for building fortifications... No, on a planetary scale – everything is possible. On a sector scale, it's already difficult to achieve. The galaxy... not under the Republic and its democratic system. Too many arguments and too little action. Even the Hutts would react to a threat faster than the Senate.
And Revan himself intended to build his own army. And he had even started moving towards this goal by uniting worlds to create a coalition that would become the foundation of future power. But ten years... this requires a miracle. And a miracle existed... but it still needed to be found.
"And that's why I propose an alliance," Sidious's voice broke Revan's thoughts.