CONTEXT: the events described herein occur some time after the end of KOTOR 2. If you missed the beginning of this fan fiction, you may want to start with
KOTOR 2 - Dark Meetra: A Terrible Night.
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The Ebon Hawk flashed through hyperspace, with Atton Rand at the helm. Behind him stood Meetra Surik. She'd tried several times to sit in the copilot's seat, but she just couldn't manage to stay still. As a former Jedi, and as the current de facto leader of the Republic, she should have had more self control. But right now, she just didn't. They were going to rescue Revan. In any case, if there was anyone in the galaxy she could be undignified around, it was Atton. She had no secrets from him. Well, not many.
In the engine compartment, T3-M4 diligently rolled from console to console, tweaking settings, fine-tuning adjustments, seeking to get every bit of speed out of the engines. Bastila Shan stood near him, gently encouraging him. "We'll find him, T3. I'm sure of it", she said softly, unsure whether she was trying to convince the droid or herself.
The last two years had been a whirlwind for all of them. Unbeknownst to any of them, the Republic had been infiltrated by what everyone thought was a new, superior generation of protocol droid, known as HK-50s. They'd functioned so well that they were placed near most senior leaders, across the military, and in the Senate. The droids, however, turned out to be weapons. Each HK-50 carried a powerful hidden explosive. They'd been detonated simultaneously, taking out most of the Republic's senior leadership.
Meanwhile, Meetra had just completed a series of adventures that resulted in the deaths of the remaining known Sith. Along the way, she'd learned of the True Sith, who held a powerful empire in the Unknown Regions. She'd also learned that the True Sith had captured Revan. Revan was Meetra's mentor, Bastila's husband, and perhaps the most powerful Jedi in an age. Revan himself had a complicated past, having first saved the Republic from the Mandalorians, then almost subjugating it as the Sith leader Darth Revan, before finally saving it from the Sith by defeating his former apprentice, Darth Malak. Following all this, he'd mysteriously left the Republic after instructing Canderous Ordo, a former Mandalorian general now allied with Revan, to assume the role of Mandalore, leader of the Mandalorian clans, and prepare the clans for an unknown threat. Meetra had discerned that the True Sith were the threat that Revan had spoken of, and that he had departed to learn more of them in anticipation of them invading the Republic. Clearly, things had not gone as Revan intended, and Meetra believed him captured.
Both to save the Republic and to save Revan, Meetra had used the power vacuum created by the explosion of the HK-50s to assume effective control of the Republic. While she still held no official title, she was one of the last known Jedi and had also served as a well-known Republic general in the Mandalorian Wars. She therefore commanded a large amount of influence, and with normal governance disrupted most looked to her for leadership.
Meetra had drawn on the connections she had made during her travels to assemble and launch an invasion of the True Sith Empire. The Republic would have had little appetite for war after the seemingly endless conflicts that it had recently endured. But the HK-50s were linked to the True Sith, and Meetra effectively argued that it was imperative to attack rather than be invaded at their enemy's convenience. She had called upon the Mandalorians, former enemies of the Republic, to be the tip of the spear in this campaign. Under Canderous' leadership, the Mandalorians, a tribal people who thrived on battle, enthusiastically agreed.
The effort had been lengthy, and there had been many setbacks. Building and holding supply lines that reached to the edges of the True Sith Empire had been logistically and tactically challenging. At times, Meetra had wondered if they'd exhaust all their support before engaging the actual enemy. But at long last, they had engaged the True Sith. And finally, interrogation of a captured prisoner revealed not only that Revan was indeed alive, but also where he was being held.
Unbeknowst to most, Meetra had walked a very dark path through most of the events, and by the end had fully fallen to the Dark Side. In fact, it was Meetra, not the True Sith, who was responsible for the detonation of the HK-50s and the deaths of so many in the Republic. Very recently, though, Bastila had confronted Meetra and managed to turn her back to the Light Side. Meetra's crimes were not yet public knowledge. She had agreed to face the consequences of her actions, but that would have to wait. Revan's rescue took precedence.
Meetra had been able to gather support for fighting the True Sith, but there had never been any hope of public support for spending an enormous number of credits and lives to rescue one man, especially a man that had once led a war against the Republic. The mission to rescue Revan was private, shared only amongst a select few. Canderous was among them, as were Atton and Bastila. While she had no doubt of Canderous' capabilities, Meetra felt an urgency to be present at the conclusion. And in truth, she was just too excited to see Revan again to wait in the Republic. She could only imagine how Bastila felt.
Now Atton was announcing that they were almost at their destination. Their last intelligence report was that the Mandalorian fleet had engaged the Sith fleet, and that Canderous was leading a strike team to Revan's location. But that had been hours ago, and many things could have changed by now. They had no idea what they'd find when they dropped out of hyperspace.
As it turned out, they initially found very little. At first, the complete lack of weapon fire and explosions made them think the battle was over. Atton checked the scanners, though, and found numerous active signals.
"The area is scattered with asteroids, pieces of a planet, or something", Atton said. "Regardless of where all the debris came from, this part of space is littered with it. See how the Mandalorian ships are using it for cover?"
"The Mandalorians are outnumbered, aren't they?", asked Bastila, who had joined them in the cockpit. She had been an accomplished Jedi Knight during the Jedi Civil War, but hadn't participated in combat in many years. Her ability to read a scope, however, had not diminished.
"Yeah", said Atton. "Almost two-to-one."
"It's a stalemate", said Meetra, also examining the scope. "See how the Mandalorian ships are arranged?" She pointed out several notable positions. "The Sith have sufficient firepower to win, but the Mandalorians have arranged themselves so the Sith can't get a clear shot without exposing themselves. Clever, but it won't last. See how the Mandalorians have to keep adjusting to maintain the stalemate? The smallest error and the Sith will have them. If the Mandalorians lose even one ship, they won't have sufficient numbers to maintain this."
"I may be able to help", Bastila said. Atton looked at her curiously, but Meetra simply nodded as Bastila left the cockpit and walked down the hallway toward the ship's large central room.
"Among Bastila's many talents", Meetra told Atton, "is a rare ability known as Battle Meditation. She can connect with an entire fleet, enhancing their coordination, helping them take advantage of even the smallest opportunities. You'll see. Be ready."
"We could have used that a few times awhile back", Atton said. "But then again, it seemed like it was mostly just us against fleets so I'm not sure it would have made much difference. Wouldn't have hurt on Telos against the Ravager, though."
In the center of the ship, Bastila sat cross-legged and cleared her mind. She hadn't performed Battle Meditation in around a decade, but as soon as she began it flooded back in a rush. At first, she reached out and felt each ship, each occupant. But rather than focusing on any one person or vessel in particular, she connected to all of them as a whole. She quickly lost awareness of the fact that they were ships at all. Instead, she saw and felt colors moving, mixing, blending. She made no attempt to control the colors. This was not a painting, not a piece of artwork. At least, not one that she was creating herself. A better word might have been "facilitating". She watched as the hues shifted, almost absent-mindedly observing patterns, consistencies, inconsistencies. It was beautiful, and she subtly encouraged its beauty to grow.
In the cockpit Atton continued to observe the instruments, and noticed something. "Hey, every time that Sith ship turns to reposition, there's a tenth of a second where none of its guns are pointed our direction. If I tapped into hyperspace, we could pop out beside, it, broadside it, and there'd be nothing they could do."
Meetra smiled. She'd seen the effects of Battle Meditation before. In normal circumstances, Atton's suggestion would have been an impossibly insane strategy with no hope of success. But these weren't normal circumstances. "I'll be on the guns", she said, and walked down the corridor.
A moment later, they were beside the Sith ship, guns firing. They had not communicated their plans to the Mandalorians, who had been fully occupied maintaining the stalemate. But as if by design, the nearest Mandalorian ship slipped from behind its cover at just the right moment. As the Sith ship attempted to rotate to fire on the Hawk, the Mandalorians opened fire from the other side. Seconds later, the Sith ship was vaporized.
Similar things were occurring all over the battlefield. Mandalorian ships that previously were barely holding their own suddenly found small flaws in the Sith fleet's positioning or timing and exploited them. The tide began to turn.
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On a nearby planet, Canderous Ordo's day was not going as well. His strike team had successfully inserted without detection and made their way to the structure where their intelligence told them that Revan was being held. But they'd seriously underestimated the building's fortifications, starting with the sensor net that they tripped during their approach. They'd hoped to use thorium detonators to blow a hole in the side wall then, assuming they hadn't inadvertently blown up Revan in the process, find him and get out before the Sith knew what happened. Instead, they had found themselves in a firefight with meager cover.
After an extended battle and heavy losses, they'd finally forced their way past the outer defenses to the front of the structure. But the Sith had taken up defensive positions inside the heavily reinforced front entrance, which happened to be flanked by armored turrrets. Canderous couldn't imagine normal Sith prisoners were this well protected. Someone had really wanted to keep Revan from getting rescued.
But despite all these challenges, Mandalorians were nothing if not persistent. Canderous could tell that the defenders had also suffered heavy losses, likely heavier than his own. He was certain he'd seen medical staff behind the front lines of defenders, resupplying them with ammo and making preparations to serve as reinforcements themselves. If the doctors were getting ready to fight, maybe the Mandalorians were gaining ground.
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The man on the table fluttered his eyelids, but did not open his eyes.
He dimly heard raised voices and loud footsteps. They were irritating. He just wanted to sleep. He didn't know where he was, and he didn't care. He didn't even know who he was, and he didn't care about that either. He was tired, and he wanted to drift away again.
The voices and footsteps subsided and all was quiet again. Good, easier to rest. He began to drift back into nothingness.
Except.
Two lights had appeared. At first, he couldn't understand how he was seeing lights. His eyes were closed. Then some barely-conscious part of his mind registered that he wasn't seeing these lights with his eyes. He was feeling them in his spirit.
As he focused on the lights, they became more distinct. One was cool, solid, unwavering. This was an older light, familiar. This light willingly offered strength, and he drew on it. More, always more. No matter what he asked of this light, it would provide. Trustworthy. Dependable. As strength flowed from this light into him, he felt his mind grow more clear and his thoughts sharpen. He turned his growing attention to the second light. It was hot. Burning. This light was controlled, contained, but barely. Always it threatened to erupt beyond its boundaries. And he wanted it to. He wanted nothing more than for this light to flood over him, engulf him. He could live forever in this light's fire.
His lips unconsciously formed two names: "Meetra. Bastila."
His eyes opened and surveyed the room. He was in a cell of some sort, strapped to a table. What appeared to be medical equipment was attached in various places to his body. His thoughts were still fuzzy, but he now perceived that his incoherence stemmed from anesthesia flowing into him from the equipment. An empty bag hung from a hook, its contents exhausted. He supposed that one of the voices he'd heard earlier should have replenished it, but had been distracted from doing so.
He pulled at the straps, but they were strong and tight. He tried to shake his head, to clear his mind, but even his head was strapped down. Through the fog, he realized that he knew how to solve this problem.
He focused his will, purging the remainder of the anesthesia from his system. His mind was sharp and clear now. With a thought, he released the strap holding his head. It clattered to the floor. He raised his head and looked at the equipment attached to him, the straps holding his body. With a glance at each, he forced it away from him, releasing clasps, extracting needles. He first sat, then tried to stand. His legs were shaky and did not want to hold him, but he steadied them with his mind and stood to his feet. He remembered who he was.
He was Revan. He was angry. And he was not staying here.
------
On the Ebon Hawk, Bastila was suddenly pulled back to awareness from the depths her Battle Meditation. At the same moment, Meetra snapped to attention in the gun turret, momentarily distracted from her targets.
"Meetra?", Bastila called from the central room.
"I feel it too", Meetra called back. "He's alive."
As each returned to their role in the battle, they each thought the same thing: "I will not fail him."
------
Canderous was reconsidering his situation. Three more Mandalorians had dropped in the last ten minutes, and he was losing confidence that they could hold this ground. But if they didn't liberate Revan now, they might not get another chance. At a minimum, the Sith would refortify their defenses. More likely, they'd relocate Revan to a different planet in their Empire. It was even possible they'd simply execute him to prevent his rescue. If they hadn't already. No, he was leaving here with Revan or not at all. But it might be time to get drastic. He could rig the thorium charges as grenades and throw everything into a frontal assault. He'd lead, and likely fall in the charge, but some of his men might complete the mission.
As he prepared to give the new orders, the Sith fire abruptly stopped. Or at least, the fire directed at the Mandalorians ceased. Now there was firing within the structure, directed inward. Then the entire front hall of the building exploded in a burst of electricity. Lightning seared the walls, ceilings, and floors, even snaking out the door and incinerating the turrets on either side. The Mandalorian troops looked at Canderous, who shrugged his shoulders, equally confused.
A man stepped into the doorway. His build suggested that he once possessed a lithe athleticism. But if so, that was now gone. He was gaunt, thin in a sickly way, muscles slack and withered, skin loose even over arms that seemed thin enough to snap. He stood unsteadily, bracing himself against the doorframe as if ready to fall. His loose hospital gown flapped awkwardly over his spindly legs. He stood barefoot in the rubble. Someone with little concern for his appearance must have occasionally shaved him, because his beard was short, but unkempt. His face, like the rest of his body, was thin, his cheeks sunken. But his eyes were fierce and focused.
Canderous stepped forward. "Revan", he said.
Revan couldn't see the face behind the mask, but he recognized the voice. And the mask, for that matter. "Canderous. Or am I supposed to call you Mandalore now?"
"Given that you killed the previous Mandalore, let's stick with Canderous. Anyway, Mandalore is a title of command, and you don't answer to me. I think we both know it's the other way around."
"I assume you didn't just happen to be in the neighborhood", Revan said.
Canderous laughed. "Sure I was. It took two years, a fleet from Czerka, mercenaries from Dantooine, logistics from Onderon, some back-door deals with the Exchange, and mobilization of half the Republic to get into the neighborhood. But yeah, sure, I was just passing by."
"Ok, I'm impressed", said Revan. "Did you put all that together? You didn't go and conquer the Republic again, did you?" There was playful humor in Revan's voice, but also a touch of concern. And a warning.
"No, nothing like that", Canderous said. "We'll fill you in on the details later. Right now, let's get you out of here. Bastila and Meetra are joining the fleet and they'll want to see you."
Revan grabbed Canderous by the shoulder. Canderous would have thought Revan barely capable of lifting his arm, but even through the thick armor he wore, Canderous was surprised at Revan's strength. Concern flooded Revan's face. "Bastila, here? Canderous, take me to them now! You don't know what the Sith have built."
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On the Ebon Hawk, Bastila continued her Battle Meditation as the Mandalorian fleet gained the upper hand. It was the Sith ships seeking cover now, the Mandalorians in pursuit. Bastila watched as the colors grew in beauty, became more and more organized. But then something changed. A darkness invaded her view. If it had a color at all, it was deep, dark red. But it seemed to suck the colors from everything else, diminish their glow. It was a dark mass, the color of death, overwhelming all the life that had moments before shone so brightly.
From the cockpit, Atton couldn't believe his eyes. "Ummm", he called. "Meetra, you should really come see this."
Meetra climbed out of the gun turret and made her way back to the front of the ship. She looked out, and gasped. She'd seen capital ships before. She'd commanded some of the Republic's largest. But the vessel before them dwarfed anything she could imagine. Even more terrifying than its mere size, it appeared to be built around a single massive weapon. Any of the Mandalorian ships could have flown directly up the gun's tube without touching the sides. The Ebon Hawk could have performed loops inside it.
The weapon began to glow, and a massive energy pulse emanated from it, completely disintegrating one of the Mandalorian ships. There was not even any rubble left.
An explosion, and Meetra was knocked to the floor. The Sith fleet had taken advantage of the distraction provided by their superweapon and continued their attack.
"Weapons and engines are gone", Atton said. "Shield barely holding. I'm not sure we'll survive another pass." Fortunately for them, the Sith ships also recognized the Ebon Hawk as disabled and proceeded to attack the Mandalorian ships instead. The Hawk was no longer a threat. They could come back to it at their convenience.
"Wow, that was lucky", Atton said. "I thought for sure they'd finish us off. I wonder why we never get blown up?"
"Bao-Dur mentioned something about that", Meetra said. "Apparently the Ebon Hawk's armor plating has a special self-reinforcing property, he called it something like Perfectly Layered Opposing Tension, that makes it impossible to destroy."
"P.L.O.T. armor, huh?", Atton said. "Well, it certainly saved us a few times. But I don't think it'll be enough to protect us against the gun on that thing, though."
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As the Mandalorian landing craft carried the remains of the strike force back toward their fleet, Revan told Canderous what they would be facing.
"You remember the Star Forge, right?", Revan said. "It was a Rakatan invention, powered by a mix of technology and the Force."
Canderous nodded. He'd never completely understood how the Star Forge worked, but he'd seen enough to know that it drew not only from conventional power sources, but also from the same Force as the Jedi. And the Sith.
"These Sith have done something similar. Their superweapon is an enormous ship, larger than anything I've seen before. But the worst part is its main weapon. It is designed to be personally powered by their Emperor. It could take out the most well defended ship that I've ever seen in a single shot."
"Wait, what?" asked Canderous. "A superweapon powered by one man? I've seen you do some things I wouldn't have believed possible, but I don't see how even you could power something that would take out an entire ship. Why would you have bothered with fleets in ... well, in any of the wars I saw you fight in?"
"You don't know what he's like", Revan said. "He's over a thousand years old. He's personally drained the life from entire planets. The power of his rage and hate is beyond anything that I knew could exist. I'm nothing compared to him, Canderous. How did you think I got captured, anyway? A weapon that can amplify him? I just don't know how to stop it. We have to get everyone out before he gets there, regroup. With some time, I can come up with a plan."
"Okay", Canderous said. "You know I don't like to retreat, but you've made your case. Let's get them out of there."
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On the bridge of the superweapon ship, Sith Emperor Vitiate gripped the handles that controlled the main gun. He funneled all his anger and rage through the handles into the weapon. The entire ship hummed and reverberated with the accumulated power. He released the charge, destroying yet another Mandalorian vessel, then searched for which ship to target next. He felt a twinge at the edges of his awareness, a pinprick of annoyance. He focused his attention on it, located it, reached out to identify it.
On the Ebon Hawk, Bastila's breath caught in her throat as darkness obscured all the colors of her Battle Meditation. She felt a freezing wave of malice, a cold, calculating hate enveloping her, probing her mind. With great effort, she forced her attention away from it and back to the colors, but they were dim now, and further fading.
"There", Vitiate indicated to his navigator. "Target that ship next."
The navigator checked her scope twice to confirm. The vessel the Emperor had indicated was disabled. Even had it not been, it was of no military consequence. It appeared to be a slightly-upgraded light freighter. But she had been in the Emperor's service long enough to know not to question his orders. She activated the controls that would turn the superweapon on the Ebon Hawk.
Bastila struggled to maintain her concentration. The darkness was overpowering now, and it seemed directed at her personally. It was taking her, owning her, and soon she would be gone. She'd hold on as long as she could, in futile hope. But she'd failed Revan after all. They all had. The colors disappeared, and all she could see was black.
Then light.
The darkness still dominated, but a bright light had appeared at the edges of her awareness. It fought against the darkness, pushing it back. And then she knew. Revan was here.
------
The Mandalorian ship dropped out of hyperspace just as the superweapon completed its turn toward the Ebon Hawk, and Revan saw that he was too late. The weapon began to glow, charging with the energy pulse that would soon fire, and there was no time, nothing for him to do. Revan's heart sank. After all this time, all these sacrifices, he was going to lose. He had taken the Republic to war, first against the Mandalorians, then against himself, to stop the True Sith threat. He had destroyed planets, taken countless millions of lives, in the hopes of saving trillions. He had abandoned the only person who had ever truly loved his whole self, leaving her alone in a misguided attempt to save her from the very assault that would now kill her. It was over, and he had lost. He'd been called both the greatest Jedi and the greatest Sith of the era, but he was powerless to stop defeat. The Republic would fall. And he would watch Bastila die.
Bastila.
His Bastila.
"No", Revan said quietly. "No, you will not kill my wife."
The weapon had finished charging. As it fired, Revan raised both hands. The energy pulse, fueled by Vitiate's hatred, flashed across the darkness of space toward the Ebon Hawk. And it began to slow.
On the bridge of the Mandalorian vessel, Revan's face was a mask of determination. Beads of sweat formed on his brow and his raised hands trembled. The power of Vitiate's energy pulse was incredible. He couldn't hold it. But he must. He reached out, and found strength was waiting for him.
Atton and Meetra watched in amazement from the cockpit of the Ebon Hawk as the energy pulse first flashed toward them, then began to slow. Bastila walked up the hallway and joined them. There was no more point in Battle Meditation. This fight would be concluded in a different way.
"What?", Atton stammered from the pilot's seat. "How?"
Bastila and Meetra looked at each other knowingly. Bastila simply said "Revan." They felt him at the same moment, connecting with them, drawing from them. They joined hands and connected back, sustaining him, feeding his efforts, as Atton looked on in confusion.
On the bridge of the superweapon, Vitiate stumbled and steadied himself against a console. It wasn't possible. Dyads were unthinkably rare. Millennia passed without one. But this was more. It couldn't be, but somehow it was. A triad. A lopsided one, to be sure, but a triad. For the first time in longer than he could remember, Vitiate felt the rumblings of fear. He redoubled his concentration, forcing the pulse forward.
Renewed, Revan's hands steadied as he countered Vitiate's efforts. Connected by the pulse, he could feel the Sith leader's rage. Revan knew that this opponent was beyond him, but there was no choice. Perhaps the three of them together would be enough.
He reached deeper, and felt Bastila and Meetra's support. All the frustration from Meetra's long years of isolation and struggle released and vanished as they connected. He felt all the loyalty she'd never abandoned. He could never have hoped to find a more steadfast compatriot. He felt her competence, her confidence, and realized that all this was her doing. The mobilization of the Republic, the unification of former enemies, the incredible strategy and logistics that were required of a galaxy-spanning war effort, all came from her. She was no longer an officer under his command, not even his protege. Strategy had always been Revan's greatest gift, but she had become his equal.
And Bastila. Always and forever Bastila. The same dedication that Meetra showed in loyalty, Bastila showed in love. Faithful, choosing to live in hope even when circumstances would have warranted only despair. They'd faced death and life together, and emerged victorious. Their private moments together had been too few, but they'd been the best moments of his life. Oh, how he'd missed her. He felt her love not only for him, but for their child. Their son. He had a son! His heart felt like it might explode with joy.
Outside, the pulse stopped, and began to reverse.
Vitiate had been taken by surprise, but he now began to recover. He'd expected an assault of anger, but had instead been overtaken by a wave of unfamiliar emotions. Friendship? Hope? Love? It almost felt as if his opponents were paying more attention to each other than to him, and he was drowning in the flood of their feelings. They would ignore him at their own peril. He would brush away their resistance and complete his victory. He sensed that two thirds of the triad was on the ship that he'd targeted. Destroying it would end this threat altogether. He gripped the handles of the superweapon more firmly, and the pulse again reversed toward the Ebon Hawk.
Revan had almost lost himself in the initial overwhelming emotions of reconnecting with both Bastila and Meetra. But his adversary had refocused and he had not. Revan gathered himself and pulled from the open conduits of power that the triad was providing him. The pulse hung in space, vibrating, shimmering, a frozen bolt of death. It was against its nature to be motionless, but there it hung, sliding slightly first one way then another.
Vitiate's rage was rising ever higher. He was the Emperor! He'd ruled the Sith for a thousand years! He would not be defeated by this puny child! Revan's determination continued to grow. All the sacrifices he had made. All the paths he had walked, all the lives he had led, all in a shadowboxing cat-and-mouse game with this agent of evil. It ended here. Now. "I will not lose", both men thought as one.
Vitiate, for all his power, was unaccustomed to pushing his limits, and battling the triad had taken more from him than he realized. He tried to dig deeper, to push more and more of his anger into the superweapon, but he had reached the bottom of his reserves. Still, he continued to fight.
On the Ebon Hawk, Bastila and Meetra had both lost all color in their faces. They each leaned against the seats in front of them, barely able to support themselves. Their joined hands trembled, but did not separate. Revan felt their struggle, and their resolve. They would not disengage. They would both pour every bit of themselves into him.
"Too much, I'm taking too much from them", Revan muttered. Each woman had put her life in danger for him time after time, in battle after battle. He almost smiled as he realized nothing had changed. But this time he would not accept a pyrrhic victory. He released the connections. He'd have to do the rest on his own.
Revan was vaguely aware that his body was growing cold and his breath had become ragged. He took this only to mean that he must end the battle quickly, and pushed even harder.
Vitiate fell to one knee, exhausted. He realized now that, for all his endless preparations and contingency plans, he'd been unprepared. His failure was not in his tactical analysis of either his own forces or his foes. It was not in any of the many strategies he'd carefully created. His failure was overconfidence in the power of his own hate. He had thought it to be matchless, the one advantage that no opponent could counter. His research had shown the Jedi to be dispassionate, forsaking the advantages of emotion in a foolish attempt to avoid what they considered "falling". The false Sith of the Republic thought they understood hate, but their feeble feelings were no comparison to his own. He had been certain in his ability to easily best the strongest of any of them, Jedi or Sith alike. But he had not anticipated this. As ridiculous as it seemed, he was about to be defeated by love. He pushed again with the last of his strength, but he knew it would not be enough.
Revan's breath now came in rough, uneven gasps. His heart was a weak, dying thing fluttering in his chest. His face was gray, his eyes glazed. But none of that mattered. His opponent was weakening. As a Jedi, he'd learned to bring his physical body into submission under his mind. As a Sith, he'd learned to draw on the life force of others, extracting it to power his will. In this last moment, he combined aspects of those teachings, separated his mind from his body, and extracted the very last of his body's life. As his body ceased to function, he no longer had the ability of physical vision. Even so, he was aware that the pulse was now speeding back to its origin.
His last feeling was peace.
In the Ebon Hawk's cockpit, Atton cheered as Vitiate's ship exploded in space. He whooped and shouted for a few moments before realizing he was celebrating alone. He turned to Bastila and Meetra behind him, puzzled at the sadness on their faces. Tears streamed down Bastila's cheeks as Meetra, still holding Bastila's hand, squeezed softly in support. They stood separately for a moment, Jedi and General. Innumerable lives had been lost under their commands. Grief was familiar territory. But this was different, and finally they embraced, sobbing softly in each other's arms.
Atton looked on in dawning realization. He answered quickly when Canderous called over the communicator.
"Are you all okay over there?", Candarous asked, his gruff voice thicker than normal.
"We're fine", Atton said, although he honestly wasn't sure if that was accurate. "You got here just in time."
"Revan's gone", Canderous said. "Dead. He was here, on the ship with me and he..." Canderous paused, unsure how to describe what he'd witnessed. Atton, equally at a loss, stared blankly at the communicator.
Bastila broke the silence. "We know. We know what happened."
"Then you know he saved us all", Canderous said. "We set out to rescue him, but instead he..." his voice trailed off again.
This time Meetra, ever the General, composed herself and ended the awkward moment. "There will be time for a memorial later, but our enemy is on its heels. Their leader was just killed and their forces are in disarray. Gather your ships. We still have a war to win. For Revan."
AUTHOR'S CONCLUDING THOUGHTS:
For this version of Revan, his life's work was combating the True Sith. Every major phase of his adult life was centered around this:
- against the Mandalorians, who were (mostly) unwitting proxies of the True Sith
- against the Republic in a deranged and destructive attempt to prepare the Republic for the True Sith invasion
- in a long-term strategic battle, where he positioned various allies in prominent positions while he performed a (failed) solo reconnaissance mission
- the final confrontation described herein (which is entirely of my own invention)
I felt that this version of Revan deserved to win, regardless of canon and SWTOR. And I wanted him to have closure with his various friends and allies, especially Bastila. However, I also didn't feel like a mass murdering psychopath should get to live happily ever after. Giving Revan a complete pass on that part of his life seemed too generous, and unfair to all the broken lives that we see on Nar Shaddaa and elsewhere in KOTOR II. So this is what I came up with.
Regarding Meetra, I played this version of the Exile VERY darkly in KOTOR II (Force Crush was AWESOME!). But she was dark in a purposeful, I'm-doing-something-important-and-I-don't-care-who-gets-in-my-way fasion, not in a maliciously evil fashion. I do think the war against the True Sith concludes successfully. But Meetra did some mass murdering of her own, notably in how she gained power at the end of
KOTOR 2 - Dark Meetra: Now. I'm not sure how public that becomes, and what consequences she ultimately faces. Or whether she even survives the war, for that matter. But, like Revan, I don't think she gets a free pass either.
Oh, and yeah, the triad thing was a bit cheesy, but I needed an excuse for how they could defeat Vitiate that would fit into a short story. As big a Revan fanboi as I am, even I can't justify him going toe-to-toe with Vitiate on his own. And also, for this particular imagining of those three characters, it just felt right to bring them together in that way. I may have to make them all hate each other in a future playthrough, as penance.