For the Republic: Part 17 B

A/N: Thanks to Tasca Lumina and Venga Fett for the great beta reading! I appreciate it, guys.  This chapter moves fast, switches a lot, and I kinda like it. I hope you do, too. ;D

Foerost, Deep Core

Revan stood on the bridge of Victorious watching her small fleet emerge from hyperspace. They advanced, as a group, toward the planet of Foerost, following in Exar Kun’s well-worn footsteps. We’re not like him.

The shipyards orbiting below contained nearly three-quarters of the Republic fleet, dry docked in this supposed time of peace. The moment…the moment was so full of potential, and Revan, full of hope. It feels so right.

She snorted at the thought of any Jedi doing something because it “felt” right.

This was her opening move in a—Force willing—short game of dejarik. Removing their fire power would, hopefully, remove their will to fight. She needed to conquer the Republic, but preferred not to destroy it in the process.

Sehorn, Unknown Regions

Malak led Jaq toward a small copse of trees, secluded from the rest of the camp. Jaq could feel something change as they entered the shade of the wood, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Just up ahead, he could barely make out the outline of a tent. Finally! This black stuff is fragging up my boots.

Foerost

“Alright, Commander, start your descent. If you’re hailed, refer it to me. They aren’t expecting us.”

“As you wish, Lord Revan.”

Revan watched as the Sith fleet began to fall away. She watched as war began.

Sehorn

Before he knew what was happening, Jaq was lying on a table. His feet and hands rested in hard leather manacles that bit his flesh if he struggled. Malak stood over him, filling his view.

“Jaq, is it? Revan recommended you, specifically. She said you are a loyal soldier. Is this true?”

“Yes, Lord Malak,”

“And you would do whatever she asked?”

“Of course.” Lightning crackled through the air, licking at Jaq’s flesh, and he gasped for breath as the pain slowly subsided.

“Of course, what?”

‘Of…of course, Lord Malak.” Jaq could feel his own hatred and anger flaring as Malak’s gaze locked-on to his.

“Oh, yes, Jaq. By the end of this, you will hate me…and you will love me for it.”

Foerost

Each frigate ejected a dozen troop carriers toward the orbiting station. They pulled alongside the docking platforms and Revan’s pilots disembarked.

Sehorn

Break his anger with pain and indifference.

“You. Fracking. Bishwag!” Jaq grunted between gritted teeth.

“Jaq. There is no need to be angry with me. Revan chose you, not I.” He continued trickling the lightning into Jaq, careful not to overload his neurons or send him into shock. “You are not enjoying yourself?”

He spat at Malak, but said nothing more.

Foerost

A few Republic soldiers, the token watch, fired at the troop carriers. Revan closed her eyes, found them through the Force, and the firing ended abruptly.

Sehorn

Break his defiance by removing his dignity.

Violated. It was the only word that would come to Jaq’s mind, as the tears came to his eyes. Violated. Like his father…Violated. violated. father violated violated violatedfatherviolatedviolatedvioatdvatavd…

Foerost

As the newly acquired ships lifted off of the shipyard to join Revan's fleet, she sighed. It’s done.

Sehorn

Break his weakness and pleading with taunts and empty promises to stop the pain.

“Please! Lord Malak! Anything! Lord Mal…Aaaargh! LORD MALAK!”

He allowed Jaq to continue screaming for a few minutes longer before the lightning stopped. “What was that, Jaq?”

“St…sto…sto…p…”

“I am sorry, but, I cannot understand. Speak up?” Malak was finding the whole process exhilarating—particularly the lightning, which danced and crackled as it left his hands. Malak even relished the pain he felt each time he used it. “Nothing more to say?” The lightning sprang forth, filling the tent with an incandescent purple glow that spilled out into the silent wood.

Traveling through Republic space.

As Revan’s enlarged fleet made its way back to unknown space, she received a hail. The woman on-screen was unfamiliar. “This is Admiral Forn Dodonna. To whom am I speaking?”

Sehorn

Break his despondence with hope and purpose.

“Jaq.” Jaq.

“It is time, Jaq.” Jaq, awaken.

He felt the young man rise, slowly, back into consciousness.

“Jaq. You have done so well. I am very proud of our progress.”

No response.

“Jaq. Jaq, listen to me. You are destined for something great. But there is something you must do first. You must be…reprogrammed.”

Malak felt Jaq’s conscious recede as the man passed back into a heavy daze. “Jaq, this will not do.” He closed his eyes and reached into Jaq’s mind.

Traveling through Republic space.

“Admiral. This is Commander Serena Revan.”

“Co…Commander Revan?” The young woman stared at the screen for a moment before straightening her stance and attempting to speak again. “You are—You are in violation of Republic air space and you have stolen a large number of ships. I am authorized to use force in order to return those ships to Foerost.”

“Admiral Dodonna, I’m also authorized to use…Force.” She chuckled coldly at the feeble joke.

“Revan, return the ships—“

“Or what, exactly? I now possess the majority of your pathetic fleet. They were waiting to be taken.” She paused, watching the admiral fumble for words before adding, “Admiral, I suggest you find a different line of work.”

Revan cut the transmission and her fleet continued toward the Star Forge. She could imagine the prim admiral cursing the name of Revan somewhere on Coruscant at that very second, and smiled despite herself.

We do this for you, Admiral—for you and all of the helpless citizens of the Republic. We do it for the Republic, itself; else, we lose it completely.

She stared out into the emptiness of space surrounding her. Beyond that serene blackness, something waited to strike. With heightened conviction, Revan added, “Yes. For the Republic.”

Coruscant, Fleet Command

Admiral Karath, it is time.

It was printed on a tiny beige slip of paper, sent by non-digital methods, and bore the official seal of the Jedi Order. He chuckled at that touch. The message was short, but he recognized who it was from and what it meant. Hesitating a moment, considering, Karath pressed his comm unit. “Notify the crew; Leviathan disembarks in one week. And get a line out to Carth Onasi on Telos. Ask him to report immediately. We need to talk.”

He knew his loyalties should lie with the Republic, but, It was Revan, not the Senators, who saved our skins during the war. Besides, her plan is a sound one. As he saw it, she’d earned his allegiance.

Something's not right. Something...

Loren Kavar sat up and rolled out of bed. He's leaving, after all. Slipping into his outer robes and padding out into the corridor, he heard a door at the end of the hall slide closed. Following, he trailed the man through the lightening dawn, from the enclave to the private landing pad nearby. He observed him for a while before stepping out of the darkened shadows.

"Zez, wait..." Zez-Kai Ell turned, eyed Kavar, and then went back to packing the ship.

"I wondered if you would speak. You know I must go. It is wrong, this thing the Council has done, and I can no longer be a part of it. In fact, it started long before, with Exar and Ulic, Malak and Revan. The teachings are flawed.” His melancholy gaze met Kavar’s. “I am sure you feel the same, but I am just as sure that you stay for...a reason." Master Ell offered the other master his hand and they clasped arms for a moment.

Master Kavar nodded. "You'll be careful won't you, old friend? The dark side takes many forms and—"

"Of course. I cannot abide the Order any longer, but I am no less bound by my duty to the Light." He broke into a sad grin before turning away. "Perhaps I can do some good where I go."

"I'm sure you can." Kavar watched as Zez-Kai loaded his single-seat speeder into the ship. We were friends, weren't we? His mind briefly flitted to childhood afternoons spent racing the speeder around the plains.

As Master Zez-Kai Ell turned for a final goodbye, Kavar reached out and pulled the man into a hug. Clapping him on the back, he muttered, "Goodbye, Zez. May the Force be with you."

After a moment of shock, Master Ell returned the hug in a final affirmation of friendship; a remnant of their camaraderie as younglings and their shared understanding as masters. Climbing into the small ship, he leaned out of the loading bay as the door closed. "Don't let her get away that easily, my friend! May the Force be with you, Loren."

~~~~

The ship's ion trail had faded and his friend was long gone. However, Loren Kavar—the man, not the Jedi—sat on the grass where he'd dropped to his knees. Zez-Kai's final words had touched a nerve, and a part of him was ready to follow that advice immediately. Instead, he stood and staggered back inside the enclave.

Zana's fine; she can take care of herself. She doesn't need me. But, for now, the Order did. They were short on masters as it was, and he couldn't stand the looks on those kids' faces when they were told there was no one to train them.

A young teenager came bounding out of the enclave to meet him. "Bastila, what's wrong?" She looked flustered and upset. The Force twitched and jumped around her.

"It's...Knight Revan! Master Kavar, Revan has returned to the Republic and she's...she's attacked Foerost! She's stolen the fleet!"

The words She’s stolen the fleet! echoed through his mind. If it was true—Kavar needed to speak with Vrook and Vandar. He needed to warn Zana, somehow. The repercussions could be devastating, for all Jedi.

He allowed himself to be dragged into the enclave by the insistent padawan.

Breaking News, Holo-1 Broadcast

“—the Jedi commander went missing just after defeating the Mandalorians at the small, rim-planet of Malachor V. It was believed that Knight Revan had followed the remnants of the Mandalorian fleet into deep space. However, reports confirm that it was Revan who invaded the shipyards of Foerost three days ago. Repeated attempts to contact the Jedi Order have been met with silence. The close-mouthed Jedi do little to clear their Order’s name in this matter, issuing only the following brief statement: ‘We are considering this issue and fully exploring every possible avenue for successful conclusion to these events.’ Cryptic, as usual.

In other news, the banking planet of Telerath…”

Dantooine

The image on the viewscreen didn’t resemble the Jedi Knight that Bastila remembered. Revan had been…Revan had been vital, charismatic, she thought. The woman on-screen was stiff, peaked; she looked exhausted.

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and focus on what was important, as she had been trying to do all day. Revan had betrayed the Order. She had betrayed the Jedi, the Republic, and all for which they stood. The viewscreen suddenly went blank. As Bastila turned around, she caught the last movement of her master’s lowering hand.

“Padawan, what are you doing?”

“Master Vrook, I…was watching a holoreport. Master Kavar was here, as well, until a moment ago. The media are putting forth many theories as to Revan’s motivation, each more outrageous than the next.” She paused, quirking her mouth, then taking a deep breath. “Master, they displayed an image of Knight Revan, and she looked ill. I don’t know how to explain it in any other way—“

“The dark side, Bastila.”

“But, why—“

“Do you think such darkness can stay hidden for long? It is merely a case of the exterior reflecting the corruption of the interior. Her appearance reflects the depth of her fall. The image you saw was probably quite old, too; they say she took to wearing a mask near the end of the war. It only stands to reason that she needed to hide her transmogrified features.”

“Does it happen to them all?”

“No. Some Sith manage to hide it, with the Force, or through other means. Take that exiled Dex, for instance. Most, however, are so inflicted. If this is the case with Serena Revan, then she has truly fallen…” He trailed-off, lost in thought.

“But…Master, how could she? She was a great Jedi Knight. We all admired her for her skill, her genuine nature, her confidence.”

“Arrogance, more like! I’ll have no padawan of mine entertaining such thoughts. She is a disgrace to the Order, and I’ll hear nothing more about it.” He took a seat on the floor.

Bastila bowed, still slightly confused. “Yes, Master Vrook.” The young girl sat, cross-legged beside her master. The pair closed their eyes, clearing their heads, and began their daily meditation.

Telos

Carth reclined on the lounger, vaguely listening to news reports, and fondly recalling his first date—his only date—with Morgana. He went all-out, intent on charming her with his wit and personality, romancing and thrilling her.

He had wanted to marry the girl with fiery red hair from the moment he met her, but he knew he couldn’t just propose to her without some kind of courtship. It had taken immense will power not to beg immediately for her hand. She’d been all smiles after their date, insisting it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her and saying how she wished it would never end. Carth had gently taken her hand, stroking her hair. She started kissing him…eventually, shoving him back onto the couch in his dormitory…

Carth chuckled at the memory. A few weeks later, Morgana realized she was pregnant with Dustil; they’d both gotten what they wanted that night.

And now, I need to do it again, need to charm her and remind her why she married me. So she doesn’t kill me when I tell her.

Morgana opened the front door and held it while the droids brought in the groceries. She looked tired, a bit frustrated. “What’s wrong, Beautiful? Tough trip?” He hastily turned-off the viewscreen, hoping to avoid any discussion of Revan for as long as possible.

She scowled at him. “Yeah, you could say that. There’s some kind of blockade around Onderon and the grocer can’t get any boma steaks until it lifts. So…we’re stuck with iriaz; sorry. I know it’s a bit stringy, but we’ll have to make due until they can suss out their differences. Everyone was cranky, including the butcher.”

Morgana sighed, watching the droids put the groceries away, and arched her back in a long stretch. ‘Verse, she’s gorgeous! His eyes roamed along her back to her delicate neck and jaw. He rose and quietly walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into him. “Come on.”

He dragged Morgana away from the kitchen pantry and down the hall to the ‘fresher. Sealing the door, Carth slowly unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall to the floor. Then, he knelt on the floor, removing her dusty boots and leggings. Stepping back, silently observing his wife’s naked beauty, the fragile perfection, he was awestruck. He leaned into her, whispering heavily into her ear, “You get cleaned up. Take your time and relax. When you’re done, we’re going out, just the two of us. We’re gonna have a second date.” He grinned at her.

“But…” Carth placed a finger on her mouth and shook his head. A crooked smile played across her features. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, then turned toward the shower. He left her to it, relieved that the plan was going so well.

~~~

The dinner was exquisite. They shared a private dining pod at a restaurant that served Alderaanian fare. Morgana’s constant smile made Carth’s heart feel a bit lighter.

When they went dancing, he remembered all of his most charming moves, leaning her back and spinning her around. She giggled as she had when they first met.

It seemed…perfect; but he knew it would end. He had to tell her. But not tonight. Don’t ruin it.

~~~

Morgana watched him as he ate, politely cutting his meat, intent on remembering all of his manners. When he caught her staring, he just smiled and she felt the warmth of it sink through her, filling her. It was the first time since he retired that she truly felt he was happy.

The day he came home from the war kept playing over in her mind as they ate and danced, all the way back home. It’s been just over a year. I didn’t think it would last, to be honest. I thought he’d feel the need to run off and play hero somewhere else. But, to her, to Dustil, to the Republic, Carth was a hero. He deserved a rest, and she deserved to get to know him again.

Now, as they reclined on a blanket in the park, stargazing, reminiscing, Morgana was sure that he was the same Carth Onasi she had married: thoughtful, caring, romantic when he got the urge. Or when he wants something… She arched a brow at her husband as he rolled toward her and caressed her cheek. If he did want something, aside from their present preoccupation, it could wait.

~~~

“You what?!” She threw a punch at Carth’s face, missing by the tiniest space.

“Hey, Beautiful, take it easy.” He dodged another punch. “I thought…”

“Last night, you thought you could win me over with our little date. Thought you could soften me up, didn’t you?! I thought you were just being romantic. Jerk!” Morgana flung her red hair over her shoulder, smoldering, her anger barely contained. “You know how I feel about this—I thought we had an agreement! And to think you VOLUNTEERED! What do I tell your son, Carth? What do I tell Dustil when he finds out that his father’s gone, again?” She was crying, rubbing her eyes with her hands, trying to stop the tears. She kept sobbing into her palm, “You promised. You promised us.”

“I know.” He tentatively reached over, rubbing her back with his hand, running it through her hair. “I know I did. I’m sorry. I wish you knew just how sorry. I wanted to give you a good memory, for while I’m away. That’s all.”

“But you shouldn’t have to be away in the first place.”

“We’re under attack! Revan—”

“So let the active soldiers handle it! Why you? Why do you insist on being at the frontline of every battle? I bet you signed up that very afternoon!”

Of course, he had. Why can’t she see that I need to protect them? I love them both too much to let anything happen to them.

Morgana’s anger was wearing thin, replaced by forlorn resignation. He hated to hear the defeat in her voice, but it was a sign that the fight was nearly over. It was the only way he was getting out that door and onto his transport. The admiral needed him on Coruscant yesterday.

Carth slung a pack up onto his shoulder, and checked his holsters. “I love you, Morgana.” She glared at him. “Tell Dustil I love him, too. You’re everything to me. I won’t be gone for long. I’ll be back soon enough, I swear it.” He leaned to kiss her and she tried to dodge him, but he found her lips and kissed her tenderly, tasting her mouth and her tears, longing for that kiss to never end as she pressed herself to him…

And then he found himself walking out the door. Jumping into the transport. Waving to Morgana as she stood, stoic, in the doorway. Watching his home grow smaller on the early morning horizon.

~~~

Her gaze followed the transport until it disappeared beyond the horizon. Closing the cottage door, Morgana collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, holding her face in her hands. She knew she should be strong. She was a soldier’s wife, had been for twelve years, and soldiers’ wives were supposed to be better than this. But I only got to be Carth’s wife for a year. One year, and he pulls himself out of retirement. I know he loves us. It’s just that he loves the Republic more.

It was then that she heard someone enter the room and looked up just in time to meet the dark eyes of her son. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around his mother and squeezing her tightly, not needing to ask. Dustil knew Father was gone, again.

One week after Revan’s attack on Foerost.

“Admiral Karath, a ‘Carth Onasi’ is here to see you,” the comm blared into the room.

A Carth Onasi? The admiral grinned and shook his head. The Carth Onasi, more like. He owed his life to the younger man for his heroism at Serroco—his protégé, his legacy. Now, it was time to redeem that debt. I must make him see.

Admiral Karath pressed the comm button, “Send him in, ensign.”

It was mere moments before the door to his office ‘whooshed’ open to reveal Carth Onasi. The pilot ambled into the office, flopping down in a chair across from Karath. The admiral noted that Carth was wearing his orangish flight jacket—A good sign.

“Carth, my boy, emerging out of retirement? How are you? How is—“

“Don’t ask, Saul.” The admiral started to speak. “Please, just don’t ask.”

Karath threw up his hands. “Alright, Carth. Let me just get one thing straight: You’re here, aren’t you? Not still at home with her? It won’t do you any good to dwell on it.”

Carth grunted, nodding. “Yes, sir. You wanted to see me about something?”

“Indeed. Carth, we’ve been together for the better part of twenty years. We’ve risen through the ranks together, covered each other more times than I can count.”

“That’s true.”

“And I know you, boy, wouldn’t you say?”

The younger man offered a thin lipped, bitter smile to accompany his deadpan response. “Probably better than Morgana…”

“And you trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course! Why? What are you getting at?”

“The situation with Revan isn’t quite as complicated as the holoreports would have you think…”

Silence hung thick in the room, separating the friends by lightyears. Carth’s mind was racing, “I can’t…I can’t believe what I’m hearing, Saul!” He wasn’t sure how he even managed to stay seated. His first instincts screamed, Run!

“It’s true. Revan’s intention is not to destroy the Republic, but to preserve it. I know it’s hard to believe, but have I ever lied to you before?”

Carth jumped up out of the seat, his hand flying to the blaster at his hip. He concentrated, pushing the murderous anger away, swallowing it, and trying to form a coherent sentence, instead. “Save it? How does making off with most of our fleet constitute saving it? Saul, my loyalty is to the Republic. Maybe it’s time you examined your own.” He turned on his heel, pausing only for the door to opened. Over his shoulder, he scowled at the older man. “Goodbye…Admiral.”

As the door slid closed, Admiral Karath sighed. It hadn’t gone at all as planned, but at least he knew now. There was no chance that Carth would ever betray his over-developed principles. He’d never abandon the Republic, even to save it.

Of course, those same principles would prevent Carth from betraying his mentor’s questionable loyalties to anyone else, either.

Sighing and pressing the comm, he called his assistant, “Ensign, is the ship ready?”

“Ready, sir.”

“Very well. Thank you.” Without any more delays, the Leviathan would join Revan’s fleet in three days time. Unfortunately, he would have to make-do without Carth Onasi for the first time in his career.

Sehorn, Unknown Regions

Many days and many sessions later.

-inaudible mumbling-

He tried to open his eyes, but they were heavy and crusted over.

Jaq.

They opened, slowly, fluttering as reality came into focus.

Hello, Jaq. Good morning.

It’s…it’s Malak. Could be he’s smiling, too. Frack! How would I even know?

Jaq found that his physical mouth wouldn’t move; few of his muscles seemed to be responding properly.

Jaq, it is time to get up.

No! No, not again.

UP!

In frustration, Malak lifted him with the Force. Jaq choked and sputtered, trying desperately to make his numb legs work.

UP!

Jaq floated just above the ground, above Malak, above the black planet, Sehorn. For a moment, he felt light and relief flooded through his entire body. But it was just another trick. Another of Malak’s tactics.

Now you are making me deviate from the program, Jaq. I guess that makes you my first real experiment. We will not tell Chara, okay? It shall be our secret.

Jaq slammed into the ground, crumpling, a mass of bloodied and broken pain.

Yes, pain. That is the answer.

His vision filled with purple light, his body began twitching, and the merciful embrace of unconsciousness never came.

The Jedi Council betrayed the Republic. They abandoned us. They hesitated. They are weak. They deserve pain.

Darth Malak ended the Force lightning and allowed Jaq to breathe. It was a similar routine each time, but during each session, he could feel Jaq getting closer to the final, absolute answer.

But you, Jaq…You deserve a second chance. A second chance to defend the Republic. Stealing a memory from the back of Jaq’s mind, Malak continued, Ah, a second chance to get your revenge. They took Celeste away, didn’t they?

Jaq’s anger flooded his mind as he tried to push back the memory. Force lightning wracked his body again.

Jaq. Jaq, block it.

Still the lightning pounded into his body, flashing through his mind, shorting every thought before synapse, burning out some of his pain receptors.

Stop it, Jaq.

The lightning swirled around him.

You do not want me in your mind, do you? Block me!

And slowly, a thought made its way through the storm.

Yes! There it is. Grab it!

He held the thought, gently, coaxing it toward him from the pain-ravaged center of his brain. He gripped it, analyzing, processing, assimilating it into his being. Pazaak? Memories of his childhood sprung to life before his eyes.

Do you want me out of your head, Jaq? FORCE me out!

And Jaq began, falling back on the one thing that came as naturally as breathing.

15+4, that’s 19…

He’d been raised in his family’s cantina, after all.

Yes! You have found your way.

Jaq felt Malak’s hold on his mind retreat, slightly. The lightning felt less substantial.

Switch the +1/-1 card, you get 20…

After many hours of “practice,” there was a sudden change. Malak found himself abruptly locked out of Jaq’s mind.

Excellent! You have progressed beyond my expectations.

Switch the +2/-2 card, you get…

“Jaq. Stand.”

He got to his feet, as instructed, wincing at the creaking of overtaxed joints. He knew Lord Malak was capable of worse torture than the lightning; afflictions of the soul that he had no intention of sampling again. His mental pazaak game continued.

10+7, that’s 17…

“Jaq, what is your mission?”

“To punish the Jedi. To punish them for failing to protect the Republic and for taking Celeste.”

“Very good, Jaq. And how will you do that?”

The smile curving Jaq’s pale lips would have mirrored Malak’s own, were Malak capable. “With pain.” He let the pazaak game rest for a moment and took a deep breath. Finally over.

But remember. You are not immune to me.

The insides of Jaq’s head exploded in another starburst of pain, and, finally, he was allowed to sink into the heavy black of oblivion.

Many days later.

Jaq sat silently among the others—switch the +1/-1 card—as Malak issued their orders, their ships, and their weapons. So far, six had survived Malak’s method. His success rate continued to rise, but Jaq was his crowning achievement: a detached killer, resistant to Force-users, and more than willing to serve his masters without hesitation.