KOTOR 1 - Tevano: Revan's Death

Darth Revan stood on the command deck of his flagship, in total control.

His fleet of Sith starships had been attacked by a group of Republic ships, and the ensuing battle had continued for some time. The Sith, however, had the upper hand and the battle would soon be over. This would result not only in another victory for Revan, hastening the fall of the Republic, but it would also solve two issues that he'd been aware of for some time. After today, the Republic's fall and his supremacy would be assured. The rest of the war would simply be a matter of details.

The first of Revan's two issues was the misguided notion held by certain Jedi that they could assassinate him. Jedi were not assassins. They did not target individual enemies for death. They were peacekeepers, defenders of the ideals of the Light. They were not soldiers. They were dispassionate seekers of knowledge, living in serenity and harmony.

Jedi were also hypocrites.

Years ago, when the Republic was under attack by the Mandalorians, Revan had seen that the Jedi must step forward to fight the threat and defend the Republic. The Jedi Council, however, had refused. They counseled patience. Revan had seen through their facade. They claimed wisdom, but Revan saw that their refusal was anchored in pride. He knew that, sufficiently pressed, the Jedi would have responded in the same way as almost any other living being. They would have defended their own, at any cost, discarding any principle that stood in their way. But it would have been too late. By the time the Jedi were willing to act, the Republic would have been beyond saving.

So Revan defied the Jedi Council. Together with his closest friend Malak, who even now remained his second-in-command, Revan recruited and led a group of Jedi against the Mandalorians. Revan himself had become leader of virtually the entire Republic war effort. Together with others, including former Jedi and trusted General Meetra Surik, Revan had defeated the Mandalorians. The Jedi Council, never having had to face the reality of the war, continued in arrogance to refuse to acknowledge that Revan had been correct. They had exiled Meetra for having the audacity to return to the Jedi, stand before the Council, and explain her actions.

None of this had surprised Revan. He had seen no real hope that Meetra would convince the Council, but it had been necessary. Meetra had given the Council one last opportunity to break out of their doomed, rigid dogma. They had failed the test, as Revan had known they would. So now they must be destroyed, without mercy or regret, because they were weak. Their weakness had tainted the Republic, and Revan had to make it strong. After returning from ... where had he been? What had he seen? Revan momentarily lost his train of thought as a closed part of his mind asserted itself and cleared away things he was not permitted to remember. His eyes lost focus and he stared out the viewport at the stars.

The Jedi, that's what he had been thinking about. He and Malak had discovered the Star Forge, an ancient engine that blended the Force with technology, and used it to construct a Sith armada of incredible power. He'd pushed back the Republic, defeating them at every turn. He knew all of their strategies, all of their plans - he'd put most of them in place himself. He hit them where they thought they were strong, but were in fact weak. He feinted at their weak points, and then attacked the areas they left undefended in their rush to shore up their deficiencies. They were prey, and he was the predator. He batted them about to and fro, weakening them, setting them up for the fatal blow. He would destroy the Republic, then rebuild it better, stronger, prepare it for ... for something he couldn't quite define.

The Jedi had responded exactly as he knew they would. Long after the point where it might have made a difference, the Jedi entered the fray. They could have been formidable opponents, but they sacrificed their every advantage in hesitation and uncertainty, all the while convincing themselves they were wise and prudent. Then when there was no more hope, when they found themselves cornered, they decided to fight. Revan's advance was far too established for them to counter. He would crush them, and it would be because he chose to, not because he had been commanded to by ... visions of a lightning covered planet invaded Revan's thoughts. And eyes. Dark, cold, unfeeling eyes. Something at the edge of rememberance, vying for his attention. He shook his head, refocusing on the matters at hand. The first of which was the Jedi. It was only natural that, in their desperation, they'd violate their own laws and attempt an attack directly at Revan. And at last, here it was.

A strike team of Republic soldiers and Jedi had used the battle as cover to board Revan's ship. Revan had allowed this, to disabuse the Jedi of any future such foolishness. Revan suspected that at least the lower ranked Jedi among the strike team, and perhaps even its leadership, believed that their mission was to capture him. But he was certain that the Jedi Council held no such misconception, and that it had been communicated to the strike team that, if necessary, they were to kill him. The Jedi Council knew Revan well enough to understand that he would not be captured. The Council was manipulating the strike team, placing them in a position where the only choice they'd have was Revan's death. Revan, however, did not plan to die today.

It had been apparent from the beginning of the space battle that the Republic had no real chance of winning, and in fact never had any expectation of a military victory. Their tactics had focused on dividing Revan's flagship and Malak's ship, the Leviathan. They played a cat-and-mouse game of keeping Revan's and Malak's ships separately occupied, stringing the battle along. Their ruse was obvious. Revan had done similar things to opponent after opponent in battle after battle, but with much more subtlety. The strike team had boarded Revan's isolated ship, and Revan had arranged his forces to whittle away at the strike team's strength without immediately destroying it. Revan's forces were slowly yielding ground, giving the appearance of being forced to fall back. Revan had already felt the death of the Jedi Master in charge of the strike force, which had come as something of a surprise. Perhaps the Master had been overconfident, a trait all too common among the Jedi leadership. But Revan sensed that several Jedi still survived, and he expected them to make it to the bridge. This was good. He wanted them for himself. To break them, as he had been broken.

Broken? When had he been broken? What new intrusive thought was this? Revan's mental discipline was one of his greatest strengths, but something in his mind seemed to be out of place. He again sharpened his thoughts. He would meditate on this later, explore his own feelings and purge anything within himself that was out of place. But for now, he must maintain control. The next few moments were crucial. And that wasn't just because of the Jedi. They were only the first of Revan's two issues that would soon be resolved.

The second was the impending betrayal of his apprentice, Darth Malak. This was not Malak's first attempt to usurp Revan's place as leader, but it would be his last. Previously, Malak had struck directly at Revan, attacking with his lightsaber, counting on his significant physical abilities to overwhelm Revan. Malak was indeed powerful, but Revan was more than his equal. What Malak brought to a fight in brute aggression, Revan countered in strategy. The fight had ended with Revan's lightsaber severing Malak's lower jaw from his head. Revan could have easily killed Malak, but Malak had still been a useful tool. No longer.

"Helm, adjust to 65 mark 124 mark 93, speed at one eighth," Revan said. "Be prepared for maximum acceleration and a sharp turn to port. Weapons, charge all batteries and be ready to deliver a port broadside at my command. Do not adjust gun position until my order. Shields, drop bridge port shield to 10 percent. Fluctuate randomly as if we are having difficulty maintaining that shield. Prepare to drop that shield on my command, then be prepared to quickly raise it again."

Malak, for all his bluntness, would also be aware of the Jedi strike team and would expect Revan to be distracted. He likely already had long-distance spotters watching for lightsaber activity on Revan's bridge. Malak would wait until the Jedi strike force arrived, then hit Revan with a full barrage of fire. The Leviathan's guns were a reflection of their master: powerful, if somewhat inaccurate. But at close distance, their targeting ability would be sufficient. They would easily pierce Revan's fluctuating shields and destroy the bridge. Revan, occupied with the Jedi, would be killed, and Malak would take his place as commander of the Sith. Or so Malak thought.

Revan had anticipated Malak's treason and made preparations. This would end with Malak's death, and Revan would be in need of a new second-in-command. Malak's apprentice, Darth Bandon, was Revan's weapon of choice to end Malak's life and take Malak's place. Revan had privately discussed the situation with Bandon, so that Bandon would be prepared to move on Malak the moment that Malak gave the order to betray Revan. Bandon's defeat of Malak would prove his loyalty and worth to Revan, and earn his new role.

But it was always wise to have a backup plan.

Should Bandon fail and Malak's attack proceed, Revan's shields would be at full strength. Revan was at least as familiar with the Leviathan's strengths and weaknesses as Malak, if not more so. Revan wouldn't long be where Malak expected him to be. Malak's own port aft shields had taken heavy damage and were legitimately fluctuating. Revan would swing around and, before Malak could respond, hit Malak in this vulnerable spot, causing cascade failures throughout the ship. Next, Revan would swing behind the Leviathan and take out Malak's engines and targeting systems. He would then offer Malak's crew the opportunity to kill their master or be destroyed. He was unsure how they would respond, or how successful they would be if they chose to attack Malak. But at that point, it didn't matter. All options ended in Revan's favor with Malak's death. Revan would finish things personally if necessary.

Revan could hear the sounds of battle. The Jedi strike force was drawing near. He reached out in the Force to sense the strike force just beyond the sealed bridge doors.

"Tactical officer, seal blast doors at junction F82," Revan said. He had been progressively cutting off the strike team's escape routes, in case they realized they were walking into a trap. He would leave nothing to chance.

"Guards, defend Bridge Entrance Two," Revan said. The bridge guards immediately moved into the indicated position. The guards were Sith Acolytes, armed with lightsabers of their own. But they were raw and weak. Revan expected them to fail, but wanted to see the strike force in action with his own eyes before he destroyed them.

In the moment before the battle began, Revan paused to reflect on his long journey with Malak. They had trained together, rebeled against the Jedi together, and won a war together. They had uncovered ancient secrets together, secrets that led them to ... to the Star Forge, but how had they gotten there? What else had happened? Again, Revan saw the images of a planet blanketed in lightning, and cold eyes. He could almost see the face. Power. So much power. Was Malak betraying Revan because Revan was on the verge of breaking his programming, because his mind refused to be dominated? Programming? What programming? Dominated by who? Suddenly, answering this question seemed to be all that mattered.

The bridge doors burst open and the strike force rushed in. With difficulty Revan forced himself to concentrate on them. Their number had dropped from almost two dozen to barely a handful. They were well trained, but they had never faced a Sith Lord. Revan was confident that, even with their original numbers, he could have dealt with them all. With their reduced strength, this should be trivial.

Malak. He must prepare for Malak, in case Bandon failed. "Shields, drop power to bridge port shield. Do not raise it again until I command, even when Darth Malak's ship targets us." Revan did not raise his voice, but it carried clearly even through the sounds of battle. The officer in charge of shields raised an eyebrow at the last part, but did not hesitate. It shouldn't have been necessary, Revan thought, to elaborate on his order to drop shield power. However, people in fear were unpredictable, and setting the officer's expectations about what would occur would remove the chance that Revan's plans would be foiled by the officer's surprise. There was no margin in carelessness. To that end, he added "Confirm that the bridge emergency force fields are operational." The force fields would automatically activate in the event of pressure loss on the bridge, a last safety net in case things somehow did not go as planned.

The strike team had engaged the bridge guards. Four Jedi and three Republic soldiers had come through the door. The Jedi carved easily through Revan's guards, their movements a smooth poetry. The Republic soldiers were not as successful. One fell, then another. Finally, only one of Revan's guards remained. To his credit, he positioned himself between Revan and the attackers and prepared for a fight he could not hope to win. The lead Jedi, a dark-haired young woman wielding a yellow lightsaber, turned to face the guard. But then she looked past him, to Revan. Her eyes seemed to penetrate the depths of Revan's mask.

And for Revan, everything stopped.

The intensity of the Jedi's belief was overwhelming. Pushed beyond her limits, her true self was revealed. The Force swirled about her with a ferocity rivaling that of a Sith Lord. But where a Sith Lord would have shown the darkness of evil or the red glow of hate, the Jedi was a pure glow, a supernova of Light and Fire. Surely when she walked the halls of the Jedi Enclave at Dantooine or the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, she was a dutiful, dispassionate follower of the Jedi Code. But here, in this moment, all that had fallen away. Her power was fueled by her emotion, but instead of the anger that powered a Sith Lord, she was energized by determination and faith.

She reminded Revan of himself, of who he had been in the early part of the Mandalorian Wars. He had been naive then, as she surely was now. But he had believed with that same purity. Revan felt an uncharacteristic wave of nostalgia for the simplicty of his past, before he had understood what was really happening in the galaxy. What was soon to happen. The powers of the ancient past that were on the verge of being revealed. Malachor. He and Malak had found something on Malachor, before Meetra Surik had destroyed it with the superweaon. What had they found? It had led them to Korriban, then to Rekkiad, Nathema, and finally to Dromund Kaas, capital of the True Sith Empire. How had he forgotten this? He'd forgotten because ... no, he wasn't allowed to remember this. But he must. He felt parts of his mind fighting with each other, factions within his subconscious battling, a civil war within himself.

The Jedi shifted her gaze from Revan and crossed lightsabers with the guard. Yellow crashed against red and, a few swift strokes later, the guard had fallen. As she squared herself to face Revan directly, the remaining Republic solider raised his weapon at Revan. Revan almost absent-mindedly used the Force to crush the soldier's throat, leaving him a crumpled lifeless heap on the floor. What had he forgotten? What had happened on Dromund Kaas?

With a great effort Revan forced himself to focus on the Jedi in front of him. Revan was vaguely aware of the other three Jedi behind her. They exhibited the normal reserved, contained, feeble presence in the Force that Revan was accustomed to sensing from Jedi. They were nothing. But the Jedi with the yellow lightsaber shone. Revan had forced her to the edge, where Jedi were usually exposed. But this one was no hypocrite. She was something else entirely. She was everything the Jedi could have been, had they not been lost in their own failed doctrine, bound by themselves. In a way, this simplified things. Only she mattered. Her companions were being sustained by her purpose and belief. Once she was eliminated, the rest would crumble.

Or perhaps she could be turned. Retrained, her passion redirected, she would be a powerful ally. Bandon had not yet chosen an apprentice of his own, and suitable options were few. Most of the Sith Acolytes, despite being considered Force-sensitive, were as useless as this Jedi's companions. They would never be anything more than cannon fodder. Such pawns were necessary, and if Revan turned the Jedi leader, he would attempt to turn the followers as well. But the lead Jedi had true potential. He might even keep her for himself. In addition to her undeniable talent, she was quite attractive, and it had been some time since Revan had indulged himself in that particular way. Taking a second apprentice in addition to Bandon would violate his own teachings regarding training only one apprentice at a time. But this one might be worth it. Better yet, maybe he would have them fight to the death for the position.

"You cannot win, Revan!", the Jedi said.

In this she was wrong. However impressive she might be, she was nowhere close to matching Revan's power. Even aided by her three companions, she was no challenge for Revan. In time, if she fully embraced the Dark Side and realized the fullness of her strength, she might one day test him. But not today, not with her limited training and constrained view of the Force. Revan absolutely could win, right here, right now, and the Republic would fall. It was a certainty. This was the moment he had orchestrated. Revan readied his lightsaber for the attack.

But her words still echoed in his mind: "You cannot win, Revan!" Someone else had said those words to Revan. Someone far more powerful than the Jedi. Someone far more powerful than Revan himself. The walls dividing Revan's mind finally came tumbling down, and Revan remembered. He remembered Mandalore the Ultimate leader of the Mandalorians, in his dying moment, speaking of the True Sith, who had manipulated the Mandalorians into attacking the Republic. He remembered following long-lost clues and discovering that the True Sith Empire, thought defeated long ago, was in fact flourishing and planning an attack on the Republic. He remembered being faced with a choice: he and Malak could return to the Republic and the Jedi with this news, or they could continue on alone. Revan had already come to understand that the Republic was weak. It could not withstand this enemy, neither did it have the willpower to strengthen itself if warned. Thinking the Jedi might help was laughable. He and Malak had continued on, and had ended up face-to-face with Vitiate, Emperor the Sith, who possessed power beyond Revan's imagining, and who had broken their minds. He had sent them back as his agents, to either conquer the Republic for him, or failing that, to weaken it for invasion. But, Revan realized, he had been breaking Vitiate's control for some time now. At some point, his mission had shifted to conquering the Republic for himself and, he now realized, preparing it to resist Vitiate's invasion.

Now with clear purpose, he would do so. He would wipe away the remnants of the Jedi with renewed vigor. If they survived, they would corrupt his new empire, and he could not allow that. Neither could any element of the Republic Senate remain. It offered only weakness, division, and endless bickering. He would rule the Republic himself, and he would make it strong. Perhaps Revan could never face Vitiate individually. But Revan was no one's plaything. Once the Republic was fully under his control, he would hone it into an instrument of war unprecedented in galactic history. He would teach Vitiate that the Dark Side offered more than one kind of power. And he would have his retribution. It was unfortunate that he wouldn't be able to utilize the talents of his old friend in the rebuilding. Malak's ruthlessness would have been useful.

Malak. He had forgotten about Malak.

Revan reached out in the Force, and realized it was already too late. Bandon, too, had betrayed him. Even now, he stood at Malak's side as the Leviathan's guns fired. There was no time to raise shields, no time to swing around and launch a counterattack. Revan's back was to the viewport, and with the shield down he was completely exposed. As the bridge began to explode around him, he vainly tried to protect himself with the Force, but there was no chance his body would survive. Even he could not repel firepower of this magnitude. His only hope was the transferrence. If he could just-

Bastila Shan watched the last Sith Acolyte fall, and squared herself to face Revan.

The one remaining Republic solider raised his rifle, and the Sith Lord casually choked the life from him. Then Revan simply stood, twirling his lightsaber but not advancing, not attacking. Was he toying with them? Then, through the bridge viewport, Bastila saw the Leviathan approaching. Revan must be stalling, allowing Darth Malak to cut off their escape route. It was immaterial. She had given up on surviving this when Master Markavra had fallen. The others had faltered, but she'd rallied them and pressed on.

The plan had been to capture Revan, but that plan was now lost. They had choreographed every move of their battle with Revan, and planned for every contingency. Only one thing was essential: Master Markavra must engage Revan first. He had trained intensely, had prepared himself both mentally and physically, and he was the only person who could occupy Revan long enough for the rest of the team to fulfill their own roles in subduing and capturing their enemy. But Master Markavra was dead, and Bastila was improvising. Just before they'd left Dantooine, Master Vrook had taken her aside and made sure she understood that, whatever else happened, if Revan remained in command of the Sith after this raid, the galaxy was lost. His meaning had been clear.

So the mission must succeed, and at this point, only one thing mattered. She was face-to-face with Darth Revan. This was her only chance to strike down the evil force tearing apart the galaxy. The suffocating dark power she felt rolling off Revan did not matter. The Jedi Order did not matter. The many lives they'd lost along the way did not matter. Her remaining companions did not matter. She did not matter. All that mattered was killing Revan.

"You cannot win, Revan!" she said. And in that moment, all evidence to the contrary, she believed it. She tightened her grip on her lightsaber and prepared to unleash all the power in her body and mind.

Then the Leviathan fired.

The blast should have killed her, but at the last moment Bastila instinctively shielded herself in the Force. Even so, she was knocked to the deck. Disoriented, Bastila raised her head and surveyed the scene, simultaneously reaching out in the Force, searching for signs of life. The bridge officers were dead, as were her remaining Jedi companions. She sensed only a fading flicker of life remaining within Revan. It was incredible that he had not been instantly killed. He had been closest to the explosion, directly between the viewport and Bastila, and had taken the brunt of the impact. If he had also used the Force to shield himself, he might have inadvertantly also provided some protection to her.

Still shaken, Bastila tried to stand, was unable, and instead raised to one knee. She looked around at the destruction. The bridge's transparasteel viewport had been completely destroyed. Only the emergency force fields separated her from the vacuum of space. The air felt thin and, even though her ears were still ringing from the explosion, she was able to hear a distinct hissing of escaping air. Some of the emergency force field emitters must have been damaged. Between the inward force of the explosion itself, then the outward rush of air before the force fields engaged, nothing was where it had been. The floor was littered with debris. Bodies lay about in random places. Even though Bastila could sense Revan, it took her a few minutes to locate him. She eventually found him on the floor on the far side of the bridge, where he appeared to have been thrown into a wall.

Bastila steadied herself, stood to her feet, and made her way through the chaos to where Revan lay. His breathing was ragged, and one of his arms lay at an unnatural angle. This hadn't been how they had planned to subdue Revan, but it worked. Bastila realized quickly that Darth Malak had taken this opportunity to betray Revan. But in the unlikely case Bastila survived, she would worry about Malak later. For now, she had a mission to complete, and a monster to destroy. Her finger hovered over her lightsaber's activation button, ready to ignite it and extinguish Revan's life.

She paused.

The original escape plan, assuming they captured Revan, was for the Republic soldiers to provide support and cover while the Jedi ensured that Revan remained senseless. Now there were no Republic soldiers, and no other Jedi. On their final approach to Revan's ship, the Jedi on the strike team had made a pact. If things went poorly during the escape and there was only one of them remaining, that last Jedi would kill Revan. He was simply too dangerous. One unblocked blaster bolt during the exit and that last Jedi would fall, Revan's forces would recover him, and he would resume his conquest of the Republic with renewed vigor. No, that could not be allowed to happen. At the time, Bastila had not been certain whether Master Vrook had pulled each of them aside for a private conversation, or if they'd all come to the same conclusion separately. But it only made sense. If they could not capture Revan, he at least could not be allowed to survive. And here Bastila was, the last of the strike team. Her path was clear.

Her finger touched her lightsaber's activation button, but did not press it.

Why did she hesitate? Did she not honor her fallen comrades? Their still-warm bodies lay nearby. She was sure that any of them would have completed the mission. Each of them would have fulfilled their vow, killed Revan, and secured safety for the Republic.

Still, she did not activate the lightsaber.

She was suddenly overwhelmed by a need to see the face of the person she was about to kill. She pushed back Revan's hood and tried to pull off his mask. At first, it didn't release, and Bastila briefly wondered if Revan had secured it either surgically or with some sort of Sith sorcery. Then she realized that it had been physically embedded by the explosion into Revan's face. Revan must have either landed on his face, or been struck directly in the mask by flying debris. Removing it forcefully was the last thing Revan needed from a medical standpoint, but Bastila's duty was to end Revan's life anyway, so what did that matter? Bastila yanked the mask off with a sharp tug and, for reasons she could never explain, tucked it into her waistband.

She wasn't sure what she had hoped to see, but this wasn't it. The face under the mask was barely recognizable as human. Bastila wasn't even sure how many fractures Revan's misshapen face must have. His nose was almost sideways, and streams of blood ran from both nostrils. His half-open, unfocused eyes were also red with blood, the pupils dilated. His mouth hung at an awkward angle, the jaw at least dislocated, and more likely shattered. Perhaps there were Jedi skilled enough in Force healing to repair at least some of the damage, but this was not Bastila's gift and her abilities in this area were limited. Revan had kept his face hidden for so many years that accurate reconstruction seemed unlikely. Still, did it matter what his face looked like when he died?

Again, Bastila started to ignite the lightsaber, and again she stopped. The person below her was no threat. Her official orders were to capture Revan. Could she still accomplish that? She placed her hand on Revan's brow and reached out in the Force. Revan's life was indeed dim, almost gone. Suddenly she no longer saw a larger-than-life villain. She simply saw a helpless, dying person. She had taken lives in battle this very day, but this was different. She made her decision. She would not commit murder.

Bastila focused on Revan's life force, holding it, cradling it, protecting it. It seemed to retreat from her, as if fleeing. She visualized herself grasping at a dying ember, pulling it to herself, blowing on it, breathing it back into a small flame. A moment ago she was ready to die in order to kill Revan, but now she poured life from herself into Revan, strengthening him. Suddenly, even as she felt Revan's body continue to fade, the flame seemed to flare, to engulf her with its heat. By the Force, Revan was strong!

Realizing she must move quickly before Revan's shattered body ceased to function, Bastila pulled a set of neurosuppressors from her belt. They had been a key part of the plan to capture Revan. Their hope had been that, combined with Force techniques applied by the Jedi, the neurosuppressors would keep Revan subdued for transport. But they would also help regulate his body's autonomic functions, perhaps keeping it alive long enough to reach the Jedi healers on Dantooine. Bastila placed the device's pads on Revan's temples, then activated it. Revan's breathing, which had become increasing ragged, began to stabilize. He might still be suffering from internal bleeding, catastrophic brain damage, or any number of other fatal injuries. But at least his heart and lungs were working.

Bastila then used the Force to help lift Revan's body to her shoulders and tried to exit through the door she and her team had used to enter. She found it sealed, the controls destroyed in the explosion. She considered using her lightsaber to cut through the door, but it was thick durasteel, and that would take time. She glanced around the destroyed bridge and noticed a small side door that had been blown partially open. Still carrying Revan, she raced across the bridge, shoved the door fully open, and darted through into the room beyond. Then she froze in shock.

Revan lay on a repulsorlift platform in the center of the room.

Confused, she glanced at the man she was carrying. He, too, was Revan. What was happening?

Bastila looked around the room. At first, she'd been too startled to notice anything other than the man lying on the platform. But now, she saw that the room appeared to be a study. Shelves lined the walls, filled with datacrons, holocrons, datapads, and even a large number of ancient leather-bound tomes. A single chair sat in one corner, with a small table beside it. On the table sat an ancient book of immense size, still opened as if its reader had intended to return. The only decoration was a large tapestry bearing the Sith emblem. A door on the far side of the room presumably led to the ship's interior. This must be Revan's private chamber.

Recovering from her initial surprise, Bastila looked more closely at the man on the repulsorlift platform. The platform itself appeared to contain a life support system. The man was covered by a transparasteel panel so clean that it was almost invisible. Leaning over and looking down, Bastila saw that the man did not appear to be breathing. But his pallor and general appearance suggested health, not death. The platform must be a hibernation system, sustaining the man indefinitely in an unconscious but stable state. Was this truly Revan? Or was the man Bastila was still carrying Revan? Her attention distracted by this new question, she lost focus on using the Force to hold up the man on her shoulders, and became painfully aware of his weight. It was going to be difficult enough to get one of these men off the ship, much less two. Which should she take?

The initial rush of adrenaline after the battle and explosion was fading, and Bastila suddenly realized how tired she was. In danger of collapsing under Revan's weight, she looked about for somewhere to lay him, and found nowhere suitable. For lack of an alternative, she considered lying him on top of the platform containing the other Revan. Then, seizing on an inspiration, she decided to do exactly that. With a gesture, she used the Force to rip the tapestry off the wall, and directed it over the platform, where it settled like a covering, hiding the Revan inside from view. She then lay the Revan on her shoulders on top of the tapestry. Now freed of his weight, she placed both hands on the floating platform and gave it a gentle push. As she'd hoped, it moved with no resistance, easily carrying the weight of both men.

Bastila's escape was surprisingly straightforward. She quickly swapped uniforms with one of the fallen Sith Acolytes, pushed the floating platform through the other door into the hallway beyond, and ran at breakneck speed through the ship, shouting "Make way for Darth Revan! Open the blast doors!" She kept Revan's flagship positioned between her small vessel and the Leviathan as she flew away. She had just reached a safe distance when Revan's flagship exploded, briefly blinding the Leviathan's sensors. Bastila used this opportunity to engage her hyperdrive. With any luck, Malak would think Revan's body had been destroyed in the explosion.

As she jumped to hyperspace, Bastila looked down at the wounded Dark Lord lying on the platform. She lifted a corner of the tapestry and confirmed that his doppleganger was still in undisturbed suspended animation underneath. She'd had the opportunity to rid the galaxy of Revan. Not only had she failed in that, now there were two of them. What had she done?