Chapter 6: Defiance

We Jedi gathered in the council hall the next day. I brought HK-47, ordered him to remain silent and stay out of the way, but to guard me from physical harm. Nobody objected. I carried the assassin's knife in my belt. My little waking time the day before had been spent cleaning and honing it. Jolee disapproved.

'Well, Fiala, I am at your disposal. Is there anything in particular you want to know first, or shall I just start at the beginning?' said Veera.

'Can you tell me...what, exactly, I am?' I asked.

'I think it will be easiest for you to understand if I tell the tale in full and let you see it for yourself.' She retrieved a holo projector from her gear, set it on the table. 'I was trying to think of a pleasant way to present this to you, but the truth isn't easy. Tell me if you need to stop at any time. Some of this may disturb you.' She activated the projector.

A human female floated in a bacta tank. The image rotated slowly. Her face...my face...was unscathed, but as her back came into view, I could see the terrible wounds from the explosion. The head was gruesome. I sucked in a quick breath.

'This is when you were first brought to us, barely alive. We put you in bacta immediately to get you strong enough for surgery. You can see how devastating your injuries were. None of us thought you would pull through, but Bastila somehow sustained you. Or perhaps you were just too stubborn to die.'

The image changed and the great wounds were now closed, healing.

'A couple of hours in the bacta tank stabilized you sufficiently for physical repairs to commence. We utilized a new, sophisticated prototype surgical droid, the JD-1QB, because we were uncertain the standard droids could save you. You made it through the hours of surgery, surprising us again.'

The next pictures were of me -- of Revan? -- seated at a table with Veera.

'When the physical damage was healed, we assessed your mental condition. As you can see, it was not good.'

Veera was coaching the woman through simple tasks that small children can do: match shapes, colors, patterns; select a picture which was a logical addition to a sample group, match musical tones and patterns. Revan wasn't doing well. Her attention wandered. Veera had to recall her to the task at hand frequently. When she succeeded at any small test and Veera praised her, she was charming, smiling, happy, hugging Veera. But when she failed, which was much more frequent, she erupted in rage and frustration, sweeping equipment from the table, overturning her chair. She would have physically attacked Veera several times if not restrained by the Force. Her rages were terrifying in their intensity. My eyes widened.

'So, Fiala, speaking objectively, what would you do with this woman? You have in your hands a deadly foe, so disabled that she cannot function. She is helpless to survive on her own. You both injured and saved her. Now what?'

I sighed. 'I guess she would be my responsibility. I would be obligated to do whatever was in my power to either restore her or ensure she is cared for. I can't think of any other solution.'

'Would that still be true if she had something important you needed, and it would appear that your motives were selfish?'

'I couldn't allow others' perceptions of my motives to deter me from doing what was right for her.'

'You understand our situation, then.'

'But why build another personality? Bastila said that Revan could have been restored, but was too dangerous. Is that true? Could you have restored Revan fully?'

The holo had changed to show Veera in meditation by an unconscious Revan, then scenes of physical training.

'I went deep into a special kind of healer's meditation to probe Revan's psyche. In some cases, the personality and memories remain intact, but the motor or cognitive functions are impaired. This can give the surface appearance that the personality is not intact. We Jedi who specialize in healing body and mind can probe deep beyond the superficial functioning of the brain into those core personalities and memories.' She sighed. 'In Revan's case, many of the memories were gone, and her personality was damaged. You saw her inability to focus or to control her rage. We began retraining in motor and intellectual skills immediately, but without a foundation of personality and memory, there was no help for her.'

'I say without personality or memory, yet fragments of both remained. What you saw of Revan during her assessment -- the charm and joy, frustration and rage -- were both strong characteristics of her former self. Indeed, she had an excellent foundation for her personality from her old life -- determined, playful, courageous, studious. But without the higher guidance of a solid superego, these characteristics are unfocused and unusable. And we did not have the time to rebuild a grown woman's psyche using children's teaching methods. Time was our enemy. We were still at war."

The holo showed a series of conversations between Veera and other women, all around my age.

'We needed Revan's memories, true, but we also had an obligation as healers to make her completely and independently functional. Your team of healers convened many times, finally reaching the conclusion that we needed to give you a new personality. This is not an easy decision, ethically or practically. The process of creating a new personality is long and painstaking.'

'A critical part of the process is selection of the 'donor,' if you will. It is nearly impossible to make up a person from scratch, so we find a suitable candidate whose age and characteristics are a near match to the person who existed before. We use their memories as a foundation for the new personality.'

The holo had stopped switching between different women and focused on just one. I scrutinized her intently. She was a short, sturdy woman who had a slightly weary air of someone who had walked a difficult road in life. But surviving that road must have been good for her; she also had the confident, jaunty manner of a seasoned pilot. She laughed often during her conversation with Veera, eyes sparkling with intelligence and humor.

'This is the scout whose memories you hold. We selected her carefully. She had an excellent upbringing and education and might have gone far in any field. Her restless spirit and desire to excel in difficult fields drove her into space as a hyperspace route scout. Bright and fearless, she and Revan would have gotten along well had they been acquainted."

'Stop, wait.' I was shaken, seeing the woman whose memories I shared. Veera paused, waiting patiently. 'I have her memories?' Veera nodded. 'Are the people I remember real? Why do I remember me in those memories -- did you give me her name?' This was confusing.

Veera thought for a moment. 'As I said, rebuilding a personality is a tedious and complicated process. You do not have her name. We change the name so if you go looking for records of yourself, you would not find her. We are able to change memories of such surface things as names and looks. So when you recall looking in the mirror, you remember yourself, not her. The people you remember were her real family and acquaintances.'

'Do you change other things as well? Are her parents really dead, or did you modify that memory so I wouldn't go looking for them?'

'Remember, you are not she. Your memories of names of parents, siblings, and friends, all of those were modified. You would not be able to backtrack to her parents that way, and there would be little point in doing so since they don't know you. But in this case, yes, her parents had died. It is easier to select someone with appropriate memories than to modify them heavily.'

'What about skills and abilities? She is a pilot, a scout. Am I really a pilot, or is that just a false memory?'

'As part of your rehabilitation, we ensured you were trained and certified to match her memories. So, yes, you are a pilot, practically and legally. You have passed all of the tests required for your various degrees and certifications.'

For some reason, that made me feel much better. Something was mine.

'Since the Endar Spire, I've been going through some very, um, painful experiences. But when I think back to things that should have been difficult to me...to her... I don't recall the intense pain that I feel now. Why is that? Does pain fade from memory?'

'Yes and no. Yes, emotional impact of events does fade through the years. But no, even if that were not so, your memories would be rather flat. I can read events and feelings from one person and implant them in another, but I cannot fully transcribe all the details of events or feelings. Something vital is lost in the translation.' She quirked a wry half-smile. 'What you are going through now is essentially an adolescent period for your new personality. It happens to all of you. Your emotional reactions to events are stronger than you remember they should be, so you become confused. It takes a while for you to establish a balanced reaction to the world. We hoped that Jedi training would mitigate the effects by helping you control your emotions, but because you had to be put out in the galaxy immediately, and because you learned of your former identity so cruelly, the impact has been rather hard on you, I'm afraid.' She paused, looked at me intently. 'Fiala, I truly did the best I could for you. Circumstances complicated your recovery, and I'm sorry, but I had no control of those things. I know you have been angry about what was done to you, but do you understand better now? Can you set aside your anger and forgive me any harm I might have done you?'

I propped my forehead on my hands, shielding my eyes from their gaze and regaining composure. It was a moment before I could speak.

'Master Veera, I would have been little better than a child if it were not for you. There is nothing to forgive. Thank you for the care you took in my...cure.' I could feel a general easing of tension in the room. 'What of my real past, and my future?'

'What is it you need to know?' asked Vrook, 'We will tell you what we can.'

'You said some fragments of Revan remained before you installed my new personality. Are they still there?' I held my breath for the answer, knowing from my 'visions' what it would be, but hoping for a different response.

'You already know this,' rumbled Vrook. 'Your visions were memories, and I was openly concerned during your Jedi training that Darth Revan would emerge.'

'Vrook, that isn't precisely true,' said Veera, 'Revan cannot reappear as she was. But conscious and subconscious memories of hers remain which may, from time to time, bubble to the surface, if you will.' Her use of Malak's phrase chilled me. 'You are not Revan, child. Any individual is the product of heredity and experience. You are more complicated, the product of many things -- Revan's potential and personality, your donor's life, and my skill. But you are no less human than any of us. You have free will and you make your own decisions. We sent you and Bastila off on your quest knowing full well that, even if you recovered the memories we sought, you might decide not to help us. And when you learned of your old identity, it was entirely possible for you to turn on us, defeat us utterly. But you didn't. And that choice was yours alone, Fiala. Not ours, not Revan's. We are all grateful to you.'

Tears were running down my face by then. Jolee suggested a break. They had a midday meal. I wasn't able to eat, but Veera made more of her vile brew and requested that I down it to help my physical recovery. 'I don't want to be knocked out,' I said, but she shook her head.

'There's nothing narcotic in here, dear. You simply passed out yesterday. A knife in the heart is nothing to sneeze at.' I drank the foul stuff like a good little patient, and did feel better for the brew and a rest.

We reconvened in the afternoon. I was shaky, but wanted to get through this ordeal as quickly as possible. I had my legal status taken care of, I understood what the Jedi had done and why. Now it was just a matter of knowing more about Revan. The session turned out to be very, very short.

'I want to know more about my past, Revan's past.'

'This is dangerous, Fiala,' warned Vrook, 'You know her memories can surface. Why invite them it by stirring them up?'

'She has the right to know, Vrook, it is her life,' said Jolee.

Veera nodded, 'I don't think it is good for her to explore this, but I agree that it is her right if she so wishes.'

'I see I am outnumbered again,' crabbed Vrook. 'Very well, ask away.'

I recalled my train of thought from yesterday, when I had waited for my heart to stop beating.

'My donor's parents are dead. Do I ...did Revan... do I have any family?' Anyone who might be happy to see me? Anyone who would care? There was a long silence. Their faces gave me part of the answer. The quiet was finally broken by Veera.

'We forget sometimes that you know nothing about Revan. Fiala, Revan's family was on the very first planet she attacked when she led the Sith fleet. They are all dead, dear. I'm so sorry.'

I had thought I was beyond pain. I was wrong. It hit me hard. I dropped my head into my hands, dug the nails into the scalp, trying to get the physical pain to dull the mental anguish. I gasped for breath. I heard Jolee move toward me, looked up to see him with a hypo.

'Get that away from me, Jedi,' I snarled. 'No more. No more dulling the pain. Leave me, all of you. Leave.'

Veera stopped beside me on her way out and spoke quietly, for my ears only. 'You may think the act was heinous, Fiala. I think Revan chose her home planet to attack first because she could not bear for her family to know what she had done, who she had become. There was a vestige of humanity, of goodness, in her even then.'

They left me alone. I raged. Revan! She dogged me, no matter what I did. I turned my back on her, but she was behind me, had me in a stranglehold. She had taken my past, my friends, my love, and now my family. I hated her. Pain and fury rose within me and I fought to keep from howling. What had I done to deserve this? I was blameless, yet I suffered for her evil at every turn. I heard crashing, opened my eyes to see bowls and baskets flying through the room, realized I was bending the Force in my fury. I let it rage through me, but wrapped it all into a tight cyclone around me until I was nearly spent.

I dropped the Force and exploded into physical action, pounding a huge support bean until my fists were bloody, beating my head against it until I finally slid to the floor, weeping.

I awoke to pain, feeling empty and drained. I'd fallen asleep leaning against the beam. My hands ached. I flexed the fingers carefully, found two which did not move properly. I sat where I was and considered the options. Things seemed clearer now.

My life wasn't fair, true. So what? Vandar was right. I had power, and with that power came responsibility. My particular, unique responsibility was to contain Revan, my enemy, within me, and to try to undo her work. Whatever she would have done, I would do the opposite. I would defy her all my life. And I needed to be whole to accomplish it. I needed help learning how to be her jailer. I needed guidance and teaching from those who understood the mind and the Force better than I did. My recent emotions -- panic, anger, grief -- would all lead me to Revan's dark side if they went unchecked. If anybody needed to live by the Jedi code, it was me. And I wasn't ready.

I grasped and pulled my broken digits, straightening and holding them while I healed the bones. I smoothed the torn skin on knuckles and brow, healing those wounds as well. Then I looked around the room and found HK-47 standing guard where he had been before.

'Have you been there this whole time, HK-47?' I asked dully.

'Affirmative, master.'

'I told everyone to leave.'

'Correction: You told the Jedi to leave you alone. I did not consider myself in the group you ordered to leave.'

'Oh. Are you damaged? There were a lot of flying objects around here. You didn't get hit, did you?'

'Negative: I successfully avoided damage during your most impressive display of temper, master.'

'It wasn't temper, H, it was mourning. You wouldn't understand.'

'Observation: You are correct, master, and I am happy not to understand. Grief is a meatbag emotion, another of your many weaknesses.'

'If I could become a droid right now, I would.'

'Condolence: Unfortunately, master, that is impossible. You are doomed to a meatbag existence. But it pleases me that you have such good sense.'

I found water, washed my face and hands, washed the blood off the beam. I set the table upright, replaced all the bowls and baskets in the room in their right locations. I worked until the council chamber was orderly again.

'Come on, HK-47, let's get back to our quarters.'

'Yes, master.'

It was deep night when I emerged from the chamber. Vrook sat on a high, Wookiee-sized bench outside in an attitude of patient waiting, feet dangling off the ground. He rose as I appeared. I stopped and considered him, silent, impassive. He broke the silence first.

'Fiala?' I understood him instantly. He was asking who he was talking to. Vrook, at least, still believed that Revan could return. I couldn't muster any irritation.

'Yes, I am.'

He watched me closely for a moment. 'How are you?' I shrugged. 'What now?' he asked.

'Where are the others?'

'In your quarters, conferring. Follow me.'

Jolee and Veera rose as we entered. Vrook moved to join them. All of them looked at me, waiting. I knew what I needed to do, though every fiber of me screamed out against it. I wanted desperately to leave, to find Carth and the Hawk, to adventure with him. Or at least to strike out on my own, leave the Jedi Order, find my own destiny, defy them and their machinations. But I couldn't afford those indulgences. They were what Revan would have done. Instead, I gritted my teeth, dropped to one knee before them, bowed my head. 'Teach me, Masters,' I grated.

'We are pleased, young Jedi. It looks like the healing has begun,' rumbled Vrook.

He was wrong. It wasn't healing. It was defiance.