Omg so stuck on this chapter. Trying to finish it by the end of the week because Voltron has eaten my life (SHIROOOOOOO) and while my best friend isn’t as wildly enamoured of it as I am, he said it makes him want to play SWTOR again so I am in favour of that because my hottie Sith Inquisitor has been neglected for a bit. Anyway, lots of copy-pasta here, but also ship ship ship.
I’m not sure I’m fully happy with this chapter as it is, so I may edit it tomorrow or the day after. I already added in a couple of edits to earlier chapters – notably, a little paragraph about Bao-Dur in chapter 5. (he’s good with kids, basically)
Also because Shiro is my new husbando (yes, already) I might start writing a fliffy fluffy ShOCmancefic. Oops. And I started a ‘Takashi’ Shepard. Dang, Vanguards are squishy in ME1.
Part 10: Sniper Shot
He’d been right, shockingly – the first thing she did when she got back to the ship, after Mical finished fussing over her many half-healed injuries in the medbay, was sleep. Maybe her weirdness had only been from trying to maintain too much control when she was dead tired.
While she slept, he leaned casually into the doorway of the medbay. “What’s the final tally?”
Mical pushed reading glasses up his nose and brought his datapad around. “Immense. Twenty-three burns of varying sizes and degrees, including three right in the centre of her chest, one through her left arm, and a long one across her side. She’s also absorbed a large amount of energy; the scanner picked up abnormal readings from her internal organs. I’m not sure if it’s from the burns or the energy, but… Also, eleven contusions, mostly across her back and arms, and a concussion. All in various states of recovery; thank the Force she’s been healing herself the whole time or else I’m not sure she would have come back to us.”
Atton sagged against the doorway. “Frakking Carkoon. I hope it was worth it.”
Mical glanced at her. “I believe she believes it was.”
“I wonder if she would tell us if it wasn’t.” A Jedi was supposed to tell the truth. But a Jedi was also supposed to sacrifice themselves for the good of others, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she martyred herself to keep them from worrying, rather than trusting in them to support her. “Well, we’ll be there for her when she wakes up.”
“Indeed we will.”
“Did we just have a decent conversation?”
Mical’s pale blue eyes were annoyingly amiable. “I believe we just did.”
“That won’t do.” But his own eyes strayed to the sleeping woman. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix it. Later. When she’s not in danger.”
Mical sighed. “I look forward to it.”
Atton grinned. “Did you just use sarcasm? Good job, young Padawan!” Mical blushed and shook his head.
But her demeanour wasn’t all from exhaustion; she was still distant when she woke, even when she’d eaten. It was like she was a different person from before they’d even landed on Korriban, and it was bothering him way too much. And she hadn’t smiled once since then, either. He’d even tried touching her mind – some hypocrite he was – but he couldn’t sense anything through the light she gave off. It was going to take some getting used to. Maybe for her as well.
So when she started making preparations to go out again, he stopped her to talk for a moment. Well, not to talk. He wasn’t good with words. Not in this situation. “Would you have a minute to spar before we head out?”
If this was a holodrama, he’d always have the right words, the right gestures. But it wasn’t, and nothing was scripted, and just because she wouldn’t get mad at him or kick him out didn’t mean he couldn’t screw up and make things worse. But if he didn’t have to say much, it would be all right, right?
“Sparring? All right, just for a minute to warm up.” She followed him to the cargo hold, where he closed the door and locked it. She looked at him with curiosity, but didn’t stop him. Probably because if she really didn’t like whatever he did or said, she could just stomp all over him and leave.
“You can leave your lightsaber, I want to try some unarmed stuff right now.” It was close enough to the truth.
“All right.” She settled into a ready stance, hands in front of her, waiting for him.
Echani philosophy said that one’s true feelings were expressed most honestly in conflict. He wasn’t Echani, but he’d been trained by them, and he knew the drill. She probably didn’t, and that would hinder him in communicating, but at least he’d be able to read her more easily.
Once she’d settled in to the flow of their combat, had some time to relax and let her mental guard down, he asked her. “You said you knew who you were now. Care to elaborate?”
Her eyes were clear but still distant as she answered. “I am the ruin of my past and the mystery of my future and the dreams of my present. I am my strength and my weakness and my love for my friends.”
Fantastic. She’d gone full Jedi, dramatic poetic crypticness and everything. Hadn’t he told her what a bad idea it was to go full Jedi? Goodbye common sense… “How long did you work on that line?”
A painfully hopeful voice deep inside him asked if she meant love-love, like a hopeless teenager.
There was a flicker in the facade, just for an instant. “About five minutes.” At least she still realized it was silly.
“Was it worth it? Almost dying, for that realization?”
“Yes. I have peace and clarity of mind. I have the strength to continue my quest.” He felt her retreat further into her light, unconsciously, it seemed. No! Come back!
“But is that really you?” he asked quietly, his movements slowing, gentling, almost caressing her now instead of attacking or defending. “That’s great and all, ruin and mystery and whatnot, but what about the woman who reads weird historical fiction and loses at pazaak all the time and curb-stomps HK-50s and gets a kick out of saying dirty things with an innocent face?” What happened to the woman who walked into my jail in her underwear with the grace of a queen and threatened to cut my hands off if I tried anything? “Is there room for her too?”
She faltered, confusion entering her brown eyes, her mouth making a tiny ‘o’ shape. Her next attack was a little less coordinated, she was thinking so deeply, and she hit him pretty hard. “Ow.”
“Sorry!” But already there was more expression in her face. “I’m sorry, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry about me.” They fought in silence for a few minutes, his movements trying to tell her what his mouth could not – yes, he was using the etiquette tier style, so shoot him for trying – and her movements distracted, almost disjointed. Whatever she truly felt was on the verge of breaking through.
He tried one more time. “Okay, so maybe you’re whole and complete now, come to terms with your past and all, in a way that you weren’t before.” He was almost jealous. Would he get the chance to do that someday? “But… you’re still allowed to be human, you know.” I love you I love you I love you I love you–
She came to a stop and stared at him like she’d never seen him before. His throat closed off and he couldn’t say any more, so he caught her wrist and brought her knuckles to his mouth. His eyes met hers over their hands, and a jolt shot down to his stomach and released a high-intensity dogfight.
Her eyes closed, she lowered her head, and with a inhalation of surprise, he saw that tears had run down her cheek. In one stride he’d closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly.
She was still and quiet in his arms. “You’re right. I’m whole… but I’m still broken. I… I didn’t… I didn’t know. Until you said.”
“No one’s not broken,” he murmured, familiar with this territory. “You and I, we’re just a little more broken than most people.”
She nodded, hair mussing against his chest. “You and me, we’re both atoning for things that can never be atoned for… But I forgive you. I forgave you your past long ago.”
“You weren’t there,” he said, his voice starting to shake, his own spectres rising before him. “I gave you the vague, glossed over version way back on Nar Shaddaa. There’s so much blood on my hands… I only just started feeling human again in the last couple years… but mostly since I met you.”
“Atton,” she said in a whisper. “Remember when you told me about the woman who saved you… what it felt like when she died.”
He stiffened. “Yes.” The vision he’d had of Selyn and that woman melding together floated before his eyes, and he swallowed and held her tighter.
“Take that feeling, and multiply it by a hundred thousand and more.”
“Oh frak.”
“It’s true what they say. I might not have murdered them with my own two hands, but I’m a worse monster than you ever were or ever will be. But I have to go on. There was no choice. There is no choice.”
He rested his chin on her head. “I never thought you were defined by your past to begin with.” He couldn’t, not what he’d seen of her in the first five minutes of their meeting. “You’re still a much better person than I’ll ever be.”
She looked up at him. “I don’t believe tha-”
He kissed her. He couldn’t help it. And after she stiffened in shock and squeaked into his mouth, her eyes fluttered closed and she kissed him back, arms sliding around him and up to his shoulders, body pressed against his.
It wasn’t happiness that he felt. It was too uncertain and full of apprehension and yearning for happiness. But it was as close to heaven as he’d ever gotten in this life. Even though she was as bad at kissing as she was at pazaak.
Her eyes were shining in the dim light as he released her. “A-Atton.” She was so beautiful, especially with a fierce blush and unsettled breathing.
“Well?”
“What?” She looked confused.
He tried a shaky smirk. “I knew you liked me.” Not really, but he’d hoped so hard it had felt like he’d known. He wanted to ask why, but it would ruin the suave attitude he was going for. Maybe later.
“I love you, Atton. I thought about it for a long time, but I made my decision a long time ago.” She ducked her head, adorably shy, a tiny anxious smile on her face. How could she be in her mid-thirties and so shy? Right, right, sheltered Jedi exile. “I was just waiting for you to say something. I was afraid to drive you away.”
He thought his heart was going to escape his chest. She said she loves me. She said it. It’s true. She loves ME, the worthless nobody who follows her helplessly. “Aw, so I’ve been an idiot for a long time. Well, it’s not like that’s anything new. Anyway, you should trust yourself more. You should trust me.”
“I do-”
“Well hold on there a second. You kind of do. But you don’t completely. You don’t trust us completely.”
She looked at him, eyes worried. “How so?”
“You don’t want us to worry about you, so you don’t always tell us everything that’s going on,” he said. “It’s a common thing for people to do for their friends – or for compassionate leaders to do for their followers – but it’s not fair to us. You don’t want to dishearten us, I know. But why not let us support you? You know we want to.” Yes, he was speaking for the whole crew, but he spoke for himself most of all. Don’t just love me. Trust me. Give me a chance to not let you down. Let me prove to me and you that I’m worthy of standing beside you, despite who I’ve been, despite who I am.
Her voice was quiet. “If you’re talking about yesterday… It will take some time. The visions… they were… disturbing. Cathartic, some of them, but others hurt me.”
“Okay. But don’t just listen to us moan about our problems, okay? We’re all in this together.”
“Yes, we are. And I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. When I’m with you… the whispers are quieter.”
He wanted to say that was weird, but he got what she meant. “Yeah… mine, too.”
He sat himself on the edge of a storage container so she didn’t have to crane her neck to reach his mouth so much. She leaned against him, warm even though her armour. She’d felt so cold before, and now she was overflowing with warmth. It was a good balm against Korriban’s oppressive funk.
Of course, the others could probably feel it and knew exactly what was going on. Being a Jedi among Jedi meant not a lot of secrets, it seemed. One reason he held on so possessively to the ones he had. He… couldn’t be open like her. Not yet. Someday, maybe, when he’d proven himself some other way, he’d give away his past and move beyond it, like what had happened to her in the cave. Hopefully without going Full Dumbass Jedi.
Well, if she didn’t care, neither did he. He could bear Mical glaring at the back of his head. He could deal with Mira’s sidelong smirks. He could probably even deal with Kreia ignoring him more pointedly than usual. Just as long as she loved him, he could deal with anything. Maybe not take on the entire Sith fleet single-handed. But if she asked… he might try.
He didn’t want to go anywhere. She was warm and solid and safe in his arms, and oddly, he felt safe in hers, too. Like no one was going to attack him. Or poke through his head. Like he could let all his multi-layered, prickly barriers down, and it would be okay. And she might have been awful at pazaak, but she was a quick study at kissing. And she was just as into it as he was, and it was blowing his mind.
And if he didn’t get them going soon, he’d be too far gone to be any help to her against the dangers of Korriban.
He released her, and it seemed she’d had the same thought. “I hate to stop, but…”
“Hey, just don’t get killed by visions – or not-visions – and we can do this all. Night. Long.”
She flushed crimson and gasped a shuddering breath that almost made him think she was aroused already, but no, it was just surprise. As far as he could tell. “A-a-all right, then.”
He chuckled. “Let’s go knock ’em dead.”
Vash was dead; her body a crumpled heap in the bottom of the durasteel cage. She’d been dead for some time; taking the previous day to visit the cave had not changed anything.
Selyn looked down on her body sadly. “Master Vash was always cautious… but just. I wish she hadn’t come to this end.”
“Okay, so who put her in there? Seems to me like that’s the important question, and we should try to avoid having it done to us,” Mira said, having gathered her courage to come today. “Didn’t Mical say you got ambushed by Sith yesterday?”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Selyn said.
“Yes,” Atton said.
“That’s a good question, though,” Selyn said. “Let’s leave. There’s nothing here for us now.”
“Finally,” Mira muttered, and she led them as swiftly as she could for the entrance of the Sith Academy.
In the main hall a tall figure waited for her, grey skin torn by a webbing of horrific scars, implacable hatred radiating into the Force.
“Oh good, it’s ol’ Kinrath-Face-Attack,” Atton said, sarcasm at full.
“Sion.” He’d cut off Kreia’s hand, on the Harbinger. How had he found them now? Was this the place he called home? Sith assassins appeared around the edges of the chamber, outnumbering them two to one.
“Did you come to this place for answers?” Sion rumbled. “There are none. The call of Korriban is strong, but it is the call of the dead. It is fitting you came here. I have studied you and found nothing but weakness. Yet still she clutches at you, as if you are all that gives her life.”
Selyn gripped her lightsaber tighter, although she had not turned it on yet. She no longer feared him like she had the first time, though his power still gave her pause. “What do you want with her?”
Sion’s one good eye glared with implacable hatred. “I want her to die, and to see and that she has built cast down. All that she holds dear, in shards at her feet.”
She raised her chin defiantly. “I will not let you harm her.” Even though she had so many questions about Kreia’s past – and even more, now – they were too tightly bonded for Selyn to allow Sion to harm her again.
Sion took a step forward, and Selyn watched his scars flex and shift in fascination, especially the splintering cracks around his mouth. “But you do not know her as I do. You have not survived her teachings, as I have. You have not bested her in battle, as I have. You are nothing.”
He snarled, an awful grimace of rage and pain. “Yet still she walks with you, is willing to sacrifice herself for you! I have studied you. I know the paths you walked in exile. I know your teacher. I know the fires that raged upon the Dxun moon while the Republic died around you. You know war. You know battle. And I know of Malachor. You saw the heart of war, what Malachor wrought, yet you turned away from it.” Contempt threaded through his words like poison. “You are a wretched thing, a thing of weakness and fear. You are her apprentice in name only. I am the Master. That is why you will die here… to destroy her, and to save you.”
He charged at her. She would not be able to physically withstand him and retreated, keeping him at lunge distance, only letting the tips of their weapons connect. He was fast, and very, very strong.
She wasn’t going to defeat him staying on the defensive. Her companions were tied up in defending her against the other assassins. It was up to her to defeat him.
She sidestepped and spiraled forward, suddenly aggressive; he stood his ground, but his guard faltered, and she pierced his leg before leaping away again.
He didn’t even flinch; the snarl or smile or whatever was on his face did not change as he charged at her again. How? He should have been at least a little disabled!
She needed to get him more decisively, and not in the same way she had before. He’d be waiting for that, now. She gave him a push with the Force and followed it, avoiding his counterattacks as he caught his balance. He had no defense to speak of, purely focused on dominating his opponent through sheer brute strength.
She caught right up to him and stabbed him through the chest, almost within the embrace of his long arms.
This time his smile grew wider. He smelled of death and rotting flesh and dust. Yet his heart beat while her saber impaled it.
She stared in shock; he wasn’t showing the least sign of injury or weakness, and he certainly wasn’t falling over dead. No wonder he didn’t care about defense. Was he truly immortal?
No time to worry about that, she was too close, she was going to die, she was going to die-
“Hey! Cut that out!” Atton yelled, and her companions closed in, rainbow of lightsabers held high, as she took advantage of their distraction to flip quickly away.
“You cannot fight him here,” Kreia’s voice broke into her mind. “Run for now!”
No time to argue. “We need to go, now!” she called to her companions, and together they fled down the long dim passage out to the barren valley.
Atton dashed for the cockpit the moment he’d cleared the boarding ramp, and it was only a few seconds later he’d gotten the engines going and the ship in the air, bound for space.
She collapsed in the co-pilot’s seat, sweat still pouring off her. All her new-found power, and she couldn’t defeat Sion. How would she ever defeat Visas’s master, the one who devoured entire worlds?
She sent Atton the coordinates for Nar Shaddaa. He raised an eyebrow as he entered them and the Ebon Hawk reached the safety of hyperspace. “What, you got some handsome boyfriend in the Red Sector?”
She blushed and shook her head. You’re my boyfriend, silly. Boyfriend. The word still gave her thrills and she didn’t believe in it yet. They hadn’t discussed it. “No, Mandalore has business there. Since we haven’t received word from Kavar yet…”
“Hey.” She looked over at him curiously at his interruption. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“Huh? What thing?”
“That not-smiling thing. You haven’t smiled since…” Since he’d kissed her.
“Sion doesn’t make me feel like smiling, strangely enough.”
A sly look crossed his face. “Yeah, but he’s not here right now. You can relax. I bet you’ll smile in five seconds.”
She sighed in his general direction. “Atton, that trick is for kids.”
“Works on adults too. Five, four, three, two…”
She’d perfected a deadpan look during her time in the military – the best way to deal with casualty reports, weather reports, unwanted advances, and other bad news. But it was Atton, and his presence was warm next to her, and her control cracked just at the end. He was right. She could relax now. Korriban was behind them, and unless she had a very, very good reason to go back, she was never returning.
“Aha! You’re smiling. Knew you had it in you, Miss Jedi.”
“Shut up, Atton.”
He reached out and took her hand. “Only if I have to because you’re kissing me.”
She almost rolled her eyes, but let him tug her out of her seat and onto his lap. They were in hyperspace, he didn’t have to watch the console. “I should go let the others know what’s going on…”
“And yet here you are, on my lap. The others can wait like ten minutes. C’mere.”
Force, she loved him.
She wandered the ship late that night, when even Atton was asleep, wondering about all the things that had happened in the last couple days. She’d found resolution of her past, and her strength in the Force, and her match in her enemy… but all of that found little hold on her mind in the face of the fact that Atton loved her.
It wasn’t ‘safe’. It wasn’t accepted by Jedi tradition. But little in life was ‘safe’. Was she just making excuses? It was far too late to back out now, even if she wanted to, and perhaps muddling over the problem, if problem it was, would just make it worse.
“What is love, anyway?” she murmured aloud. Love was Life was the Force, but…
“Answer: Many organic meatbags find that question difficult to answer, Master, but I believe I can provide you with a satisfactory definition.”
She gasped and spun. “HK. I thought you were powered down for the night.”
“Query: Why would I do that, Master, when you inefficient meatbags need to do the same? Who would watch the ship? That ridiculous T3 unit?”
“Oh… okay. T3 would do just fine, though.” HK shook his head slightly in exasperation. “Well, I’m curious. What’s your definition of love?”
“Definition: ‘Love’ is making a shot to the knees of a target 120 kilometers away using an Aratech sniper rifle with a tri-light scope.”
“…Errr…?”
“Statement: This definition, I am told, is subject to interpretation. Obviously, love is a matter of odds. Not many meatbags could make such a shot, and strangely enough, not many meatbags would derive love from it.” No, she had no idea what he was talking about. He loved his precise, deadly skillset? “Yet for me, love is knowing your target, putting them in your targeting reticule, and together, achieving a singular purpose… against statistically long odds.”
She sat there for a long moment. “…I… suppose… there is a metaphor there? It seems that you would be the one doing all the work, while your target simply has to not move out of the way. Or know that you are there.” She tilted her head. “Perhaps if you were shooting at each other.”
“Statement: Master, you may be overthinking it.”
She chuckled. “Revan used to tell me that all the time. She, who never seemed to think twice and always came to the conclusion she wanted… But it’s your fault for using such a strange metaphor.”
“Answer: It is one that I understand, Master, and it seems that you do too, despite your contrariness on insisting on its perfection.”
“Hmm.” She and Atton certainly had statistically long odds against achieving happiness together. Probably impossible odds. But just for a moment, they could find peace in each other. She might have found resolution from her past, but it still whispered to her, and she knew Atton’s did too. Their solace in each other might not last. Their affection was still new, and exciting in its newness, but with time and familiarity even that might not be a shield against her old fears. But that wasn’t the point of love. Love was not there to hide behind. Love was just love, and fear would not break it, not this time, not if she had anything to say about it.
She sat in silence for a moment, HK looming in the darkness of his closet. T3 was down in the engine room, and Goto was probably in the garage. The others slept, their spirits more or less tranquil. It was just her and Revan’s droid. She wondered where Revan was, and if she knew her droid was with Selyn. Probably not, considering he had no idea where Revan was himself. “HK, you remember the Sith Lord in the Korriban Academy?”
“Answer: Master, I hope you are asking for the sake of conversational nuance, and not because you fear my memory has been damaged further. Of course I remember. Lord Sion, you called him.”
“Kreia said he could not be killed. As an expert on killing people, do you have any ideas on how to defeat him?”
“Answer: Master, when conventional weapons will not work, then one must resort to other means of assassination. When Jedi… or Sith… or whatever they call themselves, cannot be defeated with weapons, then use doubt.”
“What do you mean?”
“Evaluation: It seems as if this Sith Lord is somehow able to keep fighting, no doubt by drawing on his connection to the Force to keep him alive even after suffering grievous harm. It may be whatever pain he experienced in the past was so great, that the technique he used to recover from it… and sustain himself… also gives him an incredibly high pain threshold. I know many Jedi and Sith have exhibited strange behavior in near-death situations. This may be another example of this.”
“But I stabbed him in the heart…”
“Observation: It does seem unlikely, master, but I have observed that you – allies included – seem to be able to recover from the most grievous of injuries, and quickly as well. Perhaps it is not as uncommon as you think. Besides, it really doesn’t matter what you believe.”
She caught an odd inflection there. “What I believe?”
“Clarification: Master, I spoke literally. It doesn’t matter what you believe – it matters what this Sith Lord believes. If his strength comes from his connection to the Force, then you must undermine that connection, master.”
“Ah, so that’s what you mean by using doubt.”
“Statement: Indeed, Master. Make him doubt himself, his beliefs, or his intentions. Such things disrupt connections to the Force – and death soon follows.”
“I understand. You seem to have thought this through before.”
“Cautionary: Oh, no, master. In fact, that is the worst thing you can do.” She frowned quizzically at him, and the glowing orange eyes turned to look at her in the dim light. “Explanation: Statistically, overplanning the assassination of a Jedi or a Sith seems to backfire. Extrapolation: There are many theorists who claim Jedi can see the future, and I do not know if that is true, but it seems impulsive acts are more common to succeed than planned incidents. Jedi, like sand-kivers, seem to sense trouble a few seconds before it happens. They are tricky little pests.”
“Even from a droid?”
“Answer: Sometimes, even from a droid, Master.”
She nodded. She didn’t let the fact that HK had gone back to using the word ‘Jedi’ bother her. To him, all Force-users were the same. And she knew what he meant. The Force guided her in battle, warned her of others’ intentions… but if the others did not know their own intentions when they moved, she would have no warning. “A good lesson to take to heart for my own safety, not to let myself rely wholly on the Force to protect me in battle.”
“Statement: Yes, Master. In fact, in addition to traps, mines, and orbital bombardment, Revan and the Sith often employed meatbag assassins for some Jedi, skilled in the same techniques that I was trained in.” Like Atton. “Strangely enough, Revan believed that meatbags that did not use or believe in the Force were especially important, since in many respects, they were more difficult for Jedi to detect. Revan had many of them trained to ‘hide their minds,’ as it were. Again, once these techniques were learned, the percentage of living Jedi began to decrease accordingly.”
“I’ve heard about that.” She did not say from where. “I wonder how it works so well, when such strong emotions are channeled.” Atris had trained her handmaidens not to feel the Force. Was there some parallel there?
“Answer: Obviously, a Force Sensitive broadcasting such emotions puts themselves at risk of not using the Force ‘properly,’ since to use it seems to require an inner control that most meatbags do not possess. As much as the Jedi could not use such a technique, the Sith Lords cannot use it for much the same reasons – such passions as guilt, lust, and fear are rarely strengths to the Sith code.”
“Really? I thought they relied on such passions…”
“Statement: Not those ones, Master. Revan felt it was ironic that only people who had experienced such passions could harm Jedi in such a way – that to kill Jedi, one had to be… in terms you will understand, a human being. She found that quite amusing.”
Atton’s voice echoed in her head. “You’re still allowed to be human, you know.”
“Yes… I suppose she would have. So she used this extensively?”
“Answer: Revan claimed that psychological warfare against Jedi was important because much of their power comes from their state of mind, their connection to this religion called the ‘Force’. Revan said that many Jedi have the capability to form connections to life around them, although few of them realized the extent to which this is possible. Recollection: I believe my Master speculated that many Jedi did not fully form such connections because of their discipline, because they never opened their lives to the passions around them.”
She wondered if there were hidden messages there for her. She connected with others too easily, loved too easily, although until now she had never allowed herself to love. Was it good or bad that she was ‘opening her life to the passions around her’? Would it make it even easier for her to form Force Bonds with others? Ones that could severely harm her? Would she become blind to the Force again? Would she find herself able to hide in the Force? The last was unlikely, even while being in love.
HK went on. “It is a thing the Jedi code could not teach, apparently. One simply knew it instinctively, or not. Observation: Master, I am somewhat surprised that I need to explain this to you at all, considering your past with Revan.”
“In what way?”
“Answer: Why, she said you had such capability, Master, but it would be your downfall. To tie so much of yourself into others – if they suffer or die, then you would die as well.”
She felt ice trickle down her back. Not only if Kreia died, but if any of her students died, would she die as well? Would her death affect them? Would one of their deaths affect each other? She didn’t want to consider it. She wanted them all to live long lives once they’d restored stability to the Republic, but she had to be at least a little realistic as well. One or all of them might very well die on this journey.
Was this also a thing Revan had planned? To see Selyn finally destroyed by her own friends?
“Observation: I think Revan pitied you, master. It was very insulting, if I may say so.”
“Thanks, HK,” she said faintly.
“Clarification: Oh, I meant it was insulting that she pitied anyone, Master. She was so strong normally.”
“Of course.” She stood. “Thanks for the talk. I have a lot to think about. Good night.”
The droid didn’t answer as she walked to the women’s dorm.
On Nar Shaddaa, while Mandalore went to find more soldiers for his clan and Bao-Dur, Mira, and Atton went to stock up on essential stores, Selyn walked the city with Kreia.
She had questions, so many questions, questions she didn’t want the others to hear. And Kreia knew it. They could have spoken in the privacy of their minds on the ship, but she didn’t want to take any chances.
Even now, as they threaded their way through crowded, squalid streets, she did not ask aloud. Speaking through the Force gave much more nuance than aloud.
She had to brace herself. She did not think Kreia would be angry for even these sorts of questions; in fact, she expected Kreia would want her to ask. But she still had a solid wariness about upsetting or disappointing a teacher that she had learned in her childhood and never quite forgotten. “…Kreia, what are you? Are you a Jedi or a Sith?”
Kreia’s hooded head turned slightly towards her. “Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole. Know that I am your teacher, and that is enough.”
It made sense. Kreia taught neither darkness nor light, neither to destroy the galaxy nor to heal it, only to observe it and know it for what it was, and the Force likewise. Though always with the sense that all were tools to be used, not entities to be loved. Or hated. Not that Selyn wished to hate anything. “Then what were you?”
Kreia paused. Her voice held no sharpness, only an aching, half-bitter weariness. “What do you wish to hear? That I once believed in the code of the Jedi? That I felt the call of the Sith, that perhaps, once, I held the galaxy by its throat? That for every good work that I did, I brought equal harm upon the galaxy? That perhaps what the greatest of the Sith Lords knew of evil, they learned from me?” Dark things indeed, as Sion had hinted at. The old woman sighed. “What would it matter now? There is only so much comfort in knowing such things, and it is not who I am now.”
“I understand.” She understood all too well. She and Kreia were similar. Was she a mirror of everyone she met? Was that why she formed Force Bonds so quickly? “But the past still echoes, and I wish to know yours.” You know mine.
“Very well. …There are dark places in the galaxy where few tread. Ancient centres of learning, of knowledge…” Kreia’s voice became lower, sharp as a vibroblade, fragmented as a broken glass. “But I did not walk alone. And to be united by hatred is a… fragile alliance at best. My will was not law… there were disagreements. Ambition. Hunger for power. There are techniques within the Force against which there is no defence. I was cast down, stripped of my power. Exiled. I suffered… indignities. And fell into darkness.” It was so similar to her own story, judged, abandoned, exiled. Kreia’s voice softened, sad and sincere. “Learn from me, from my mistakes, and use that knowledge to become greater than I. That is all I ask of you, and that is all I desire. In you all my hopes rest, for the future, for the Force.”
Sion had said he had bested her in combat. “I need more than that, Kreia…”
Kreia stopped, and she stopped as well as her teacher took her gloved hand in her old, withered one. “If it means so much to you, then this I swear to you upon my life… upon our lives… that when your training is complete, I will answer everything. There shall be no more shadows between us, only truth that exists between master… and apprentice.”
Soon, then. With Kreia and HK’s help, she could defeat Sion.
Early the next morning, before she’d even had breakfast, T3 rolled out of the comm room and into her shins in great excitement, warbling shrilly.
“Oh dear, slow down, what is it?”
Beeping, slightly calmer.
“Thanks, T3. What did Kelborn say?”
Beeping and whistling.
“So Kavar is trying to reach me. Let’s to ask Atton to set course for Onderon.”
T3 twittered triumphantly as she jogged up to the cockpit, where Atton greeted her with a smirk and a wink.