KOTOR 2 - Connections: Reborn

STRONG WARNING: The following contains heavy spoilers about KOTOR 1 and KOTOR II. If you have not played the games, DO NOT READ THIS. Go play them, then come back. I promise I'll wait.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was written in preparation for a 2022 playthrough of KOTOR I and KOTOR II. For this playthrough, I carried the same head canon story all the way through from before the beginning of KOTOR I to a conclusion after KOTOR II. Here are the associated main character builds for KOTOR 1 and KOTOR 2. I try to stick to the spirit of the builds and playthrough in the fanfics, but I do not necessarily follow them exactly.

DISCLAIMER: in this conclusion I am completely, totally, recklessly making stuff up with wanton disregard for anything resembling canon. If this sort of speculative writing bothers you, then you might want to stop now and not waste your time. If, on the other hand, you're interested in a just-for-fun story that doesn't fit anywhere into the official Star Wars timeline, then read on!

CONTEXT: This is the seventh and final chapter in the fan fiction which started in KOTOR 1 - Connections: Revan's Surrender. This chapter is set some time after KOTOR II, and immediately after the previous chapter. Like, it starts in the middle of the same conversation the last chapter ended on.

"Don't leave, Atonbrae," Tory said. "Or do you prefer Lord Brand? That's what the True Sith call you, is it not?"

Victory Relevant, also known as Tory, had once been the Jedi Revan, leader of a group of Jedi known as the Revanchists and eventually leader of the Republic military in the Mandalorian Wars. She had then fallen to the Dark Side of the Force and, as Darth Revan, attacked the Republic. Finally, her memory lost but her power intact, she had returned to the Light under the name Victory Relevant and defeated her Sith apprentice Darth Malak, securing the Republic's safety.

After all this, she had learned of the True Sith, an ancient empire thought defeated a thousand years prior, but which still existed in the Outer Regions, waiting for a chance to again attack the Republic. Pursuing a new way of understanding the Force to help in the coming fight, she had left alone for the mysterious planet Nathema, a lifeless Void in the Force which had once been the fertile agricultural world of Medriaas, but which had been corrupted a millennia ago by Vitiate, the True Sith Emperor, as part of a dark ritual that had granted him immortality. Overwhelmed by the effects of the planet, she had entered a protective trance for her own survival.

Meanwhile, elements of Victory's defeated Sith, from her time as Darth Revan, had risen as the Sith Triumverate and again attacked the Republic. They were defeated by Meetra Surik, Revan's ally from the Mandalorian Wars who had lost her connection to the Force and been exiled from the Jedi Order. After that conflict, Meetra had learned of Victory's location and, together with a group of companions, had traveled to Nathema to learn of Victory's fate.

Meetra, whose lost connection to the Force made her immune to the life-draining effects of Nathema, had found Victory and released her from the trance. Victory had emerged with not only an understanding of how to survive on Nathema, but also a fully formed revelation of a new way to use the Force, a philosophy she believed would allow the Jedi to not only triumph over the True Sith, but also enter into a more enlightened relationship with the Force itself.

Now, Victory and Meetra, together with their companions Jolee Bindo, Visas Marr, and Yuthura Ban, were on the surface of Nathema, having completed an intense training session that had left Victory's strength almost exhausted, while giving the others only a limited ability to resist the planet's effects. As the session was concluding, Atton Rand, one of their number and a compatriot of Meetra during her battles against the Sith Triumverate, had tried to leave. Victory, however, had confronted him.

"Atonbrae? Lord Brand? True Sith?" asked Meetra. "What are you talking about? This is Atton. I've known him for months now. We traveled and fought together. What's going on?"

"When did you work it out?" Atonbrae said.

"The final pieces, just now," Tory said. "Jolee knew you were hiding something as soon as he met you. But neither of us knew what it was until this very moment."

"I thought you couldn't dig into people's minds anymore. Isn't that taking, and against your new philosophy? Or are you already a hypocrite?" Atonbrae said.

"I didn't," Tory said. "You told me. You wanted so badly to tell me that you let it slip out in bits and pieces. Your pazaak cards are effective but not perfect. They don't hide things you want to share. And you really did want me to know what you've done, what a long con you've pulled, how clever you think you are."

"Tell me what is going on!" Meetra demanded.

"The surgeons did a masterful job," Tory said. "How did they do the eyes?"

"The pain was excruciating," Atonbrae said. "The eyes are artificial. I sacrificed my natural ones for this mission. You have no concept of what I gave up for this. Or what I will be rewarded now that I can finally return to my Emperor with my mission complete."

"ATTON!" Meetra shouted.

"Do you want to tell her, or should I?" Tory said.

"Revan is correct," Atonbrae said to Meetra. "I am Atonbrae. Lord Brand, if you please. Although the 'Atton Rand' name did share enough similarity with my real name to feel not completely foreign." He turned to Tory. "I'm sure you can appreciate that, Revan. I mean, 'Victory Relevant'." Tory, however, ignored him, settled into a cross-legged sitting position, and closed her eyes.

"You see," Atonbrae said, again turning to Meetra, "I know things about your leader that even she does not. She is correct, she had been to Nathema before, with her pathetic apprentice Malak. And then they went onwards to Dromund Kaas, capital planet of the real Sith Empire, where Lord Vitiate reigns. They were discovered and captured, of course. They were no more than playthings for my Emperor, their minds broken during interrogation. And then my Emperor had a brilliant plan. He reshaped their personalities, inserted new desires, wiped their memories of us, and sent them back to finish the work started by the Mandalorians. They would either conquer the Republic, at which point their mental programming would compel them to hand it over to Lord Vitiate, or else weaken it sufficiently for us to invade.

"I was surgically altered and sent back with them, to ensure they did not deviate from the plan. It was the greatest honor my Emperor could have given me. Unfortunately, Revan's mind was unstable and she developed the misguided notion to defeat the Republic in order to make it strong against my Emperor. Malak, coward that he was, would serve whomever he perceived as the most powerful, and therefore was participated in this plan for a time. I was forced to break Malak's memory barrier and remind him who he was really working for. As expected, he understood that Lord Vitiate was by far the more powerful, and this gave him the courage to betray Revan. He then proceeded on his original mission, to take over the Republic on behalf of my Emperor.

"With the invasion well in hand and Revan dead, I established a base for myself on an obscure planet near the Outer Rim and began working as an assassin, killing especially elusive Jedi and ensuring that any hidden opposition was eliminated. Little did I know that you," he turned to Tory, who was still ignoring him, "would show back up from the dead and ruin everything! With the Republic neither defeated nor sufficiently weakened, I could not return to my Emperor. The penalty for failure is death.

"So I took advantage of my human appearance became 'Atton Rand', and began looking for an opportunity to either salvage the Emperor's plans, or else live out the rest of my life in your miserable corner of the galaxy. Then I encountered you," he said, turning to Meetra. "Nihilus and Kreia, though agents of the Dark Side, were legitimate threats to my Emperor. So even though defeating them would not be sufficient to restore me in the Emperor's good graces, I could at least tell him that I had continued to serve him in my absence.

"But then it got even better. You all came, by your own choice, to this place, the place of my training, seeking Revan, who my Emperor will be thrilled to have returned to him, either dead or alive. You could not have advanced my cause any more effectively if you had been trying! In fact, I honestly wonder if some hidden device of the Emperor's programming is still subtly functioning in Revan's addled mind, drawing her back into the Emperor's plans. Otherwise, this is far too perfect. Returning with Revan, or her body, will be enough to restore my favor with my Emperor."

"So you're saying," Yuthura said, "that when Darth Malak turned on Darth Revan, that was your doing? Everything that has flowed from that moment is because of you?"

"Yes, I suppose that is what I'm saying," Atonbrae said. "For years, I thought it was for ill. But I see now that it was for my own benefit, even if it has taken quite the long time."

"But ... you fought in the Mandalorian Wars," Meetra said. "You told me so. Vitiate's plans for Revan couldn't have gone back that far. She was relatively unknown before then. How could you have already been dispatched to the Republic?"

"You believed all that drivel I told you?" Atonbrae said. "I had no idea you were really that guillible."

"I believed someone that I thought was my friend. Someone that I thought cared for me," Meetra said.

"That's exactly my point," Atonbrae said. "I began the fool act mostly out of boredom, expecting that I'd soon kill you anyway. But it turned out to be incredibly effective. People like you, the actual fools, will blindly trust anyone that appears simpleminded, unable to fathom that you are being deceived. I believe I am the first Sith Lord to employ this technique. But I will not be the last. I've been recording the success of my tactics throughout our travels, transmitting them to a holocron in my base. Your failures have been thoroughly documented, and will be passed on to posterity."

"Did Kreia know?" Meetra asked.

The old witch never looked far enough below the surface," Atonbrae said. "She believed the fool act. She was too wrapped up in her own machinations to realize someone was actually playing her. On those few occasions when she did try to dig more deeply, I had a very effective way of discouraging her."

"But how can you be of the Sith species?" Meetra asked. "We were ... intimate."

"Yes, I suppose the surgeons really did do a ... let's just say a very complete job," Atonbrae said. "Then again, maybe you're just so inexperienced with your own kind that you couldn't tell the difference. In any case, it was a necessary part of the deception. You see, that's what I used against the old witch. When she tried to delve too deeply into my mind, I simply fed her details of our liasions. She was so disgusted that she stopped searching my mind entirely. I can't blame her. Humans really are so physically repulsive. Frankly, it was all I could do to get through it. You noticed I broke it off as soon as she was dead, didn't you?"

"But, you said you needed time to focus on your Jedi training," Meetra said.

"Please stop, dear," Atonbrae said. "You look foolish enough already. There's no need to continue embarrassing yourself."

"You said Nathema was the place of your training," Visas said. "To what training do you refer?"

"That may be the best part," Atonbrae said. "I was, and will again be, in my Emperor's inner circle. Only a small handful of us know about Nathema. Not even all on the Dark Council are aware of its existence. I trained here for a year, learning to shield myself from the planet's effects. Did you not notice how I was unaffected by it? It is here that we will bring captured Jedi in the war to come. The planet will break them, draining their strength, draining their life. We will feed them just enough of the Force to keep them alive. They will clutch at it, like a drowning person grasps at anything afloat. They will tell us anything we want to know, all their secrets, just for one more fleeting sensation of the Force. And when we have extracted everything, we will watch them die."

"There's more," Tory said. She was still seated with her eyes closed. "There's more you're not telling us."

"You know everything now," Atonbrae said. "You know what a fool you've been. You know how all your efforts have been wasted."

"No, that's not it," Tory said. "There's something you want to tell me, you're dying to, you're so proud of yourself, you can hardly resist."

"I can tell you how your Republic will die, if that's what you want to know," Atonbrae said.

"No, that's not what you want to tell me," Tory said. "This is something urgent, not about the past or the future. Something about the present. You want ... no you need to tell me. You need to prove that you have power over me, that you have bested me."

"Of course I've bested you!" Atonbrae said. "While you've been pouring energy into these fools, I've been absorbing it. As they've been leaking it into the planet, I've been hoarding it. As you have become weaker, I have increased. You droned on and on about your philosophy and all the while-"

Tory's eyes snapped open and in one smooth movement she leaped to her feet and ignited her lightsaber. "You're stalling!"

Many things happened at once. The side doors of the ancient warehouse flew open, and assault droids of an unfamiliar design flooded in, blasters blazing. Jolee, still standing behind Atonbrae, ignited his lightsaber and attacked. Visas tried to rise to her feet, reaching for her lightsaber, but her legs were too unsteady and she stumbled and fell. Yuthura and Meetra ignited their lightsabers and joined Tory, who was already attacking the droids. Through the open doors, they could see more droids in the distance swarming the Ebon Hawk, its gun turret spinning and firing. T3-M4 and HK-47 would be no help in this battle; there were already fully occupied.

Meetra positioned herself at the most central door, deflecting blaster bolts and slicing droids. Yuthura tried to assist, but Nathema hampered her abilities and she was hard pressed merely to defend herself. Tory was somehow everywhere, leaping from door to door, trying to stem the influx of droids and prevent her friends from being overwhelmed. Visas, still prone, had pulled a blaster from her belt and was trying to lay covering fire.

Atonbrae spun, igniting his own lightsaber as he turned. He was forced to step backward as he countered Jolee's attack.

"You knew, didn't you, old man," Atonbrae said, still falling back. "Not everything, but enough. And you didn't even warn the Exile."

"We weren't sure what you were," Jolee said, "Just that you were more than you were saying, and might be dangerous. We were hoping we were wrong." He slashed and stabbed at Atonbrae, who held his ground and assumed a defensive posture, deflecting each attack.

"You didn't have to die," Atonbrae said as they battled. "I tried on Duxn to get you all to leave Revan alone, so I could slip away and collect her quietly. And then when you refused, I tried to come on my own. But you insisted on coming here and releasing her from her trance."

"There was no way I was letting you be alone with Revan," Jolee said. "Even then, I'd decided to stay in your back pocket until this was all over." Now it was Jolee's turn to fall back as Atonbrae launched a vicious counterattack.

"Oh, I could tell," Atonbrae said. "But all you did was hasten Revan's death. If I'd been able to sustain her trance, I could have delivered her to the Emperor alive, so he could kill her personally. But I don't really regret that now I'll be the one to do it." He pressed his advantage, driving Jolee against the wall.

"If you think you're killing Revan, you're in for a big surprise," Jolee said, slipping under Atonbrae's next strike and circling away.

"I was happy to discover that my droid ships hadn't been commandeered by another Sith Lord in my long absence," Atonbrae said. "I was planning to fake a hyperdrive problem and have them ambush you in deep space. But then you fools returned here, and weakened Revan for me. Elsewhere, she would indeed be hard for me to kill. But here, now, exhausted, she will be no match for me." He switched to an offensive form and began attacking Jolee again, who was forced to fall back, circling and retreating, clearly beginning to tire.

The battle with the droids was going even more poorly. Tory couldn't defend all the entrances, and Meetra and Yuthura were in danger of being overwhelmed. The fought back to back, on the defense now, deflecting blaster bolts but unable to attack. Meetra was momentarily reminded of her bar fight in Wild Space, when her success at deflecting a single blaster bolt had been a challenge. Today, fueled by her connection with Tory, she had been fighting at levels she'd rarely approached as a Jedi. But she could feel Tory's strength fading, and had to consciously continue feeding strength to the others so they could function on Nathema, retaining less and less for herself. And the droids continued to close, surrounding them, blocking out all else.

Suddenly a gap appeared in the wall of droids, carved by a flashing lightsaber. Tory crashed through the opening and grabbed Meetra and Yuthura, bodily flinging them to the center of the large room. She followed, deflecting blaster bolts as she went.

"Defend us!" she called to Yuthura and Visas. Not stopping to see if they complied, she grabbed Meetra and shouted into her face above the din of battle: "GIVE THIS TO THEM!" Then she pushed so much Force energy into Meetra that Meetra's knees buckled. This was not the effervescent fullness that Meetra had experienced earlier. It was not a joyful pleasure. This was boiling lava, a furious, burning fire. For a moment, Meetra thought she might literally explode. The very air seemed to spark on the verge of ignition. This was the Revan of the Mandalorian Wars, whose determination had moved a galaxy. This was Darth Revan, with her foot on the galaxy's throat. This was Victory Relevant, triumphing alone over a Star Forge-fueled Darth Malak. "How does she live with this inside her?" Meetra wondered. And then Meetra pushed it outwards to the others.

Tory staggered, exhausted, having given away everything she had left. But Yuthura and Visas sprang to new life. Now Visas' lightsaber was drawn, and she and Yuthura were in the midst of the droids, whirlwinds of light. Severed parts flew everywhere and smoke began to fill the room as blaster bolt after blaster bolt was launched by one droid and deflected into another.

Jolee, stumbling backward, caught himself and launched a renewed attack. Now it was Atonbrae again fell back, surprised. Jolee's lightsaber flashed as the old man launched himself into spins and flips, dodging Atonbrae's attempts to counterattack. Jolee's blade landed once, twice, three times, causing superficial but painful wounds. Atonbrae yelled in pain, continuing to retreat.

But they could not continue for long. Meetra continued to push outward, but felt the wave of energy begin to subside. She tried to reach inside herself for more, but without Tory supporting her, she had little more to give. Visas flagged first, stumbling backwards, unable to continue. She landed beside Tory, who stepped forward and attempted to defend Visas deflecting blaster bolts. But Tory's own strength was spent, and it was all she could do to protect the two of them. Tory's lightsaber continued to flash and twirl, but there were too many droids. She spun, sensing a bolt from behind her, knowing that it was too late and would not be able to get there in time. And then Visas was there, standing to her feet between Tory and the droid. Visas took the full force of the blaster bolt in her back. A trickle of blood begin to run from the corner of her mouth. "My life is yours," she whispered. Then she collapsed, barely breathing.

Meetra had rushed to help Yuthura, who was surrounded. Together the two of them managed to clear an opening, allowing them to retreat to the center of the room with Tory and the unconscious Visas.

Atonbrae resumed his assault on Jolee, again gaining the advantage. He attacked furiously and finally, with a vicious slash, severed Jolee's arm just above the wrist, hand and lightsaber flying. The old man barely sidestepped Atonbrae's killing stroke and fell toward the others in the center of the room.

Atonbrae raised a hand and the droids stopped firing. They moved in tighter, circling the Jedi, taking aim at them from all sides. He looked at Tory with disdain.

"The great Revan," Atonbrae said. "My Emperor was so worried that you were representative of the Core Jedi, the first of many we might face if we invaded. But you not only turned out to be an outlier, a single bright star in a dim galaxy, you discarded your own power. Once a warrior, you turn out to be nothing more than a frail philosopher. There is barely any glory remaining in killing you. But I will enjoy it nonetheless."

He raised a hand and lightning shot across the room toward Tory. She raised her lightsaber and absorbed the blast, but was forced to her knees.

"See now the flaw in your plans," Atonbrae said. "You face a fully trained Sith Lord at his pinnacle! I can draw the last bits of power you hold and turn it back against you. I will kill you with your own strength!"

He released another blast of lightning. Meetra stepped in front of Tory and tried to absorb the blast, but she was unable to fully contain it. Lighting snaked around her lightsaber, searing her face and hands.

"You evil bastard!" she growled through gritted teeth. She forced herself to disconnect from the pain, released all her available adrenaline, and began moving forward. Atonbrae intensified his attack, his own face now twisted in rage. Meetra, lightsaber still raised against the continuing onslaught of lightning, took another step, then yet another. The smell of her own burning flesh reached her nostrils, but she continued fighting forward, inch by inch. Suddenly, the lightning stopped and instead an orange beam crackled between her and Atonbrae. She collapsed as she felt her strength being drained from her.

"An impressive effort, General," Atonbrae said. "But not enough. Not here, not while I still hold a full reserve of Revan's own power. And now a bit of yours as well."

"Revan, you were Sith," Yuthura said, her voice desperate. "Part of you must still know the techniques. Steal power from him and turn it back. You can still save us."

"No," Tory said weakly. "I will not-"

"Bastila sent this to you! Take it!" Yuthura said. She reached in her belt, brought out something wrapped in cloth, and handed it to Tory. But before Tory could unwrap it, Atonbrae released another wave of lighting at Tory This time Yuthura sprang into the gap. Dropping her lightsaber, she raised both hands and caught the blast, holding it, turning it, collecting its energy. Then she released a primal scream of rage. Baring her teeth, looking every bit the Sith she had once been, she hurled the lightning back at Atonbrae, who struggled to deflect it.

"Very good, imposter Sith," Atonbrae said. "I'm glad to see you have not completely forgotten our teachings. Do you remember this one?" He raised a hand and closed his fist. Yuthura grasped at her throat, her feet dangling.

"Release her," Tory said, although her voice lacked authority, even to her own ears.

"Very well," Atonbrae said. "I will grant you this small mercy. You may die first." He opened his fist and Yuthura fell to the floor. Then he unleased another wave of lightning from his still-outstretched hand. Tory crumpled under the attack, her breath now coming in uneven gasps.

Tory reached out for the river, to ask its help against her foe, but could not find it. Was it absent? Had it ceased to flow? Bastila had warned her, years ago, that this new philosophy might fail at a key moment. And it seemed to finally be happening. When she needed the Force most, it had abandoned her. Yet she knew she was not wrong. The old way had been disaster. She would not repeat her own mistakes, not again.

"Die now," Atonbrae gloated. "Die in failure and pain. Die in your own weakness!" He raised his hands again, preparing for the final strike.

Instinctively, Tory reached out, sensing everything around her. There wasn't much there, but there was a little. Perhaps it was energy from the Force that had leaked from herself and her companions that Nathema had not yet absorbed. Perhaps even in this place of death, there remained some small remnant of the Force. She could call on it, command it, as she had before. Her body was breaking, but her will remained. She could collect that energy and release it at Atonbrae. It might not be enough. But it might. At least, she would die fighting.

But no. She had imposed her will on the Force, the Jedi, and the Republic in the Mandalorian Wars. She had won, but she had also lost. Countless had died by her decisions. Had there been another way? She hadn't even asked. And then as Darth Revan, she had again imposed her will on the Force, and the Republic. She had corrupted hundreds of Jedi, free beings, servants of the Light, and though she herself had been redeemed they had died in darkness. Even after returning to atone for her errors, many more died before she could stop Malak. And even then, even after the Republic had pinned a medal to her chest as a hero, the foes she herself had created had again risen up and killed countless more. All that she loved, all that she had fought for, still lay in tatters. What had her great strength of will wrought? Death and destruction. At each step, she had felt justified. She had made each decision thinking it was for the best, pushed the galaxy in the ways she chose for what she thought was its own benefit. And in so doing, she had nearly destroyed it. If Kreia's echo was real, it was not centered around Kreia, not around Meetra. No, it was around her. If she resumed that path, the galaxy itself might be forfeit. She would not do that again, consequences for herself be damned. She would not betray or abuse the Force. She regretted only that her companions would pay the price with her.

She tried to brace for the imminent attack, but did not have the strength even to do that. She simply lay on the floor, unable to rise, unable to move.

And then everything stopped.

"I have a will too," said a voice in her head. The voice was soothing, familiar, even though she was certain she didn't recognize it. It felt like the voice of an old friend, even though she had never heard it before. Except .... she had.

And then Revan remembered. Revan remembered everything.

She remembered her anger when the Mandalorians invaded and the Jedi did nothing. She remembered her unyielding defiance when she faced the Jedi Council and told them, in no uncertain terms, that she would defend the Republic regardless of what they said. She remembered her surprise and fear when defeat of the Mandalorians revealed a greater, unknown threat. She remembered her intense purpose as she and Malak journeyed to find it.

She remembered finding the True Sith, and being captured. She remembered an Emperor. She remembered her mind being torn asunder, being broken, unmade, violated, a new identity forcibly inserted. She remembered somehow grabbing a small piece of her receding self, grasping it back from the Emperor's clutches, hiding it away deep inside herself where even Vitiate could not find it, a small spark almost lost in the darkness, fading to a barely-glowing ember. She remembered that ember igniting, and the frail shadows of her own mind fighting against the personality the Emperor had forced upon her. She remembered in her confusion attacking everything she had once defended, convinced it was the only way to save it.

She remembered standing on the command deck of her flagship, in full control, on the edge of victory, so sure of herself and her own plans. She remembered Bastila, pushed beyond her limits, revealing a better way.

She remembered the voice. The voice of the Force. The voice that spoke to her now.

"I have a will, and I can give," said the voice. "You have proven yourself worthy. You have held nothing back from me, and so I hold nothing back from you."

And Revan not only remembered. Revan understood. The Jedi Council had inserted a new identity, yes. But they had not erased her memories. Neither had her injuries. Her old self had been erased by the Force itself, to give her a new opportunity, another chance to claim the destiny that was always intended to be hers. The many challenges she had overcome in the years from then to now, the moment of her rebirth, had been a trial, a confirmation, a way to prove her committment to the surrender she had made on the bridge of her flagship so long ago. And she had passed the test.

"There is so much more for you now," the Force continued, "so much beyond, so much to share. Rise now. Rise once again as Revan, in my strength and power. Rise and reap vengeance on our adversaries! Rise and reclaim the galaxy for us! Rise!"

Revan had no words for the feeling that now consumed her. It was all-encompassing joy, assurance, and righteous wrath seamlessly mixed with an energy that refused to be contained. Her power and her purpose were one, driving each other, bursting from her.

Revan rose, unwrapped the item that Yuthura had given her, and looked without surprise at the metallic item inside. Her mask. Revan placed the mask upon her face, and raised her hood.

It was as if the world was frozen in time before her. Atonbrae's face was twisted in rage, lightning glowing in the palms of his extended hands. His assault droids filled the chamber. Revan's companions looked on in fear and dread. They would not understand this new development. How could they? Revan was still processing it herself.

"They will, in time," the voice said calmly. "You will find a way to help them comprehend. But first, you must show them."

"What about the river?" Revan said to the Force.

"Every word you said was correct. When your work is complete, the entire galaxy will be the river, flowing smoothly. But is the storm not also natural? I have chosen you to be my hurricane. Unleash it!

Revan released the moment and the world launched back into motion. Atonbrae's lightning shot across the space between them. Revan gathered it harmlessly into her hands, held it for a moment, looking at it in wonder, and casually willed it away. Then she looked up, her eyes blazing behind her mask.

"I am Revan Reborn!" she cried. "Before me, you are nothing!"

She released her new power in a wave. Atonbrae and all his droids were flung outward across the chamber in every direction, crashing into the walls with incredible force, then falling to the floor. broken and lifeless.

Revan looked through the open doors to the Ebon Hawk, where the assault droids had disabled the engines and gun turret. T3-M4 and HK-47 were side-by-side on the loading ramp, blasting hopelessly at a massive group of assault droids advancing on them. Revan flicked her wrist, and the assault droids shot several kilometers into the sky. It would be some time before they came crashing back to the ground, shattering into pieces.

Revan's companions, unharmed, looked at her with awe. Revan knelt beside Visas, placing a hand on her forehead. The Miraluka stirred, then sat up, breathing easily. Revan placed a hand on Jolee's elbow, just above his wound, and his pain began to recede.

"Watch this," Revan said, almost gleefully.

Revan closed her eyes for a moment, consumed by glorious expectation. Then she released her new energy through the walls, across the planet's surface, upward through the ceiling into its skies, and downward through the floor into its very core. As the Force poured life and power into Revan, so Revan poured it into the planet. The Emperor's atrocity, the Void in the Force that was Nathema, filled to overflowing. The sky began to clear as Medriaas, freed from its long curse, began to return. The very air seemed to reverberate with new possibility.

Revan looked at her companions and although they could not see her face, her smile carried clearly in her voice. "It seems that I have more to teach you, my new Revanchists," she said.

Almost four thousand years later, on a once-obscure planet near the Outer Rim, a lone figure walked through the swamps, bitterly recalling his recent fall from power. He had been careless, and had overplayed his hand. He was strong in the Force, stronger perhaps than any other being alive, and could have easily conquered his feeble oppressors. But the timing had been wrong. His eyes were on a much larger prize: the galaxy itself. As a Gungan, he was poorly positioned to act directly in galactic politics. Instead, he was carefully positioning others: proxies and pawns who would act on his behalf, most of them unwittingly. His one true apprentice, a human almost as powerful as he, was advancing through the political ranks. With a bit more patience, a few more years of careful maneuvering, the Chancellorship of the Galactic Senate would be within their reach. The possibilities after that were limitless.

But for now, their position was too tenuous. His apprentice was still obligated to pose as the apprentice of another, a Sith Lord whose powerful connections and immense wealth were essential to the plan. The Gungan supposed that he himself would be considered a Sith by many. But he had long since moved beyond any such artificial labels. The path he now charted was his own, unconstrained by the ideology of any particular faction or tradition. And his apprentice's Sith Lord "master" would eventually be disposed of. But that time had not yet arrived, and a civil war on Naboo could derail everything.

So he had accepted exile for now, and had become a wanderer, biding his time by exploring ancient ruins, forgotten fortresses, the remnants of civilizations from millenia past. Even he wasn't clear why he had chosen this path. But he thought he'd felt a ripple in the Force, a fading echo. A voice from long ago, that seemed to be calling faintly, at the edge of hearing. Despite all his power, patience, and success to this point, he couldn't escape the feeling that there was something more, some technique he was missing. His intuition told him that at some point he would need to become personally involved for the final phases of his plan to succeed. But how could he, without revealing himself and ruining everything? What trick could he employ? Perhaps the answer to this puzzle was drawing him, speaking in the distance.

For days, weeks, and months he drifted aimlessly, from swamp to lake to ocean, walking even among the high mountains where he was obligated to use the Force to shield himself from the elements. And then one day, he saw it. The moment his sight touched the crumbling structure, he knew this was the place, the destination he'd been stumbling toward. Nestled in a valley, it was cunningly concealed. Anyone else could have easily walked by and never noticed it. But something in the place had called to him, drawn his eye, and now he marched directly to it, focused and sure.

He strode confidently past the remains of the outer wall and across what had once been the courtyard. The main structure had collapsed long ago, but he used the Force to casually toss multi-ton stone blocks aside, revealing the crushed sophisticated technology underneath. He extended a hand, and an object flew from the rubble into his grasp.

It was a small crystalline pyramid. It fit comfortably in his hand and, despite the many thousands of years that had passed since its creation, it was warm to the touch and emitted a slight glow. A holocron. A Sith holocron. He focused his mind on it, exploring its secrets. Unlike a datacron, which was a simple piece of technology accessible through any compatible reader, a holocron could be opened only by the Force. No crude encryption key would unlock the holocron's secrets. It would reveal itself only to one whose mind was attuned to it, whose spirit was aligned with that of its creator. The Gungan carefully united himself with the holocron, feeling a growing bond across all the ages with the Sith Lord whose secrets it held. They shared a willingness to be patient, play the long game. They shared a certain whimsy, a playful sense of adventure sometimes at odds with their more serious goals. Most of all, they shared a sense of satisfaction at turning their opponents preconceptions against them, at using them as the dupe even while they thought themselves superior. The holocron's creator had been truly clever, a person of great depth, yet capable of making themselves appear simple and shallow. These were traits that the Gungan could respect, even admire.

The holocron opened. The image of a human male appeared, and began to speak.

"I appear to be human, but I am not," the man said. "My name is Atonbrae, and I am of the True Sith. I will teach you to use the appearance of foolishness to deceive and defeat your adversaries."

"Meesa liken dis," the Gungan said, and continued listening intently.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm honestly not sure what happens next with Revan and her companions. This really wasn't where I expected to end up when I started writing this, but I'm convinced it is the right ending. I'm already a long way from both canon and from the KOTOR games, so I probably won't ever continue it. But who knows? Maybe I'll be curious enough about what happens to write a few more chapters and find out.

And as for the incongruous Darth Jar Jar coda? That was just for fun.

Oh, and the capabilities of datacrons and holocrons, and the distinction between them, is not terribly consistent in Star Wars. I just made up the behavior I wanted for the coda, and don't even feel bad about it. That seems to be what the actual paid authors do anyway.