Returning to the ship, Revan was pleased to find it undisturbed. After a brief consideration, he decided to move it deeper into the desert, away from the cities. This lessened the chance of encountering Jabba's mercenaries, though it increased the risk of Sand People attacks. Still, dealing with the latter was simpler.
The speeder fit perfectly inside the cargo hold, right next to the crates of Beskar that had been successfully loaded back on board. Each crate was equipped with its own individual grav-platform for easy loading and unloading. As a result, even one person could move a ton of cargo without much effort.
Revan spent nearly the entire day searching for a convenient and safe landing spot. He found one in a canyon that, based on the signs, had very recently been inhabited by a Krayt dragon. It wasn't there now. The beast had abandoned its lair, but local predators still gave the canyon a wide berth. It was perfect for the Jedi's needs.
With the main pressing problems concerning food, water, and security solved, Revan decided it was time to find out what was going on with his body. It would also be good to understand why the Force had brought him back to life and what was now required of him. He didn't believe it was simply a gift of fate. Something was expected of him, and that debt would need to be paid sooner or later.
Plunging into meditation, Revan first focused on his current body. Upon detailed inspection, he found the reason why the Force was slow to respond to his calls: the body was genuinely untrained. Moreover, Revan's very essence had not yet fully merged with the new physical form. Time and deep meditation would fix everything. He hoped to return to form, at least partially, within a couple of days.
It didn't happen.
Instead of a few days, the former Jedi spent nearly three weeks. And he was still far from perfect. However, with each passing day, his connection to the Force grew stronger, and his power increased. The oppressive feeling of discomfort from the unfamiliar body also began to recede. Under the influence of the Force, diligent training, and Revan's mind, his body began to change. His height increased, and his muscle tone improved. His green eyes tried to shift to the brown they had been in his past life but ultimately settled on an intermediate shade. Outwardly, the hero of the past no longer looked like a child; he could now pass for about twenty years old, and his facial features, though subtly, still resembled his true face.
All this time, Revan trained, not just in using the Force but also in lightsaber combat. Though a stick was no lightsaber, he was quite capable of practicing the fundamental movements.
Several times, mercenary patrols and hunter caravans passed nearby, but none came close enough. Nature's defense was working.
Towards the end of the third week, Revan was once again sitting in Onaka's cabin, meditating. This time, he sought to understand why he had been summoned. Gathering all his will, he appealed directly to the Force, trying to convey the meaning of his question.
"Why?"
Suddenly, a blinding white flame materialized before his eyes. It danced, mesmerizing with its frenzied yet fluid movements. Then, a black haze emerged in the depths of the flame. It began to grow, intertwining with the tongues of white fire. Soon, a black fire, like a mirror image, echoed the movements of the white. The two flames interwove, trying to overcome one another, but they were equal. For a time, the balance remained unbroken, but then the light fire began to fade, and the dark one expanded.
The still-intertwining flames shot away, becoming the center of a galaxy. But a moment later, the dark tendrils of the swirling haze began to spread from star to star, from planet to planet, consuming and desiccating them.
Falling briefly out of his trance, Revan tried to grasp what he had seen. The balance was broken. The Dark Side was suddenly winning because the Light had fallen asleep.
"Is this already happening? Or does it only threaten in the distant future?"
However, no answer followed. No hint, no vision, no barely perceptible sense of certainty.
"But how can it be fixed?"
His consciousness was once again drawn into the abyss of visions. This time, a human silhouette appeared in the raging flames. He took the Dark Side in one hand and the Light in the other and pressed them to his chest. He accepted them in his heart, nurturing one while suppressing the other. Balance returned to the world. The swirling tendrils retreated when the light in the chest of the spectral figure fell upon them.
The man in the vision stretched out his hands and pulled two more people from the void into the light. There was conflict in their souls as well, but a moment later, balance was established, and they shone just like the first. Then, each figure led another pair of people into the light. And more, and more, and more…
The picture changed. The silhouette of a planet, around which two moons revolved, drifted before his eyes.
"Tython," the Jedi recognized instantly.
The light and dark moons rotated around it in perfect equilibrium. And the light that Tython began to emit now bathed the entire galaxy.
The power of the visions overwhelmed his consciousness and swept it away.
Waking up several hours later, Revan, still sitting on the floor, tried to comprehend what he had seen. The visions sent by the Force were usually clearer—a premonition of the future, a distinct version of events, and the consequences of decisions. But this vision was fundamentally different: a flow of images. They could be interpreted in various ways.
Apparently, the Force was warning him of danger. And this danger threatened not him, but the entire galaxy. The balance was broken… or would be broken, and very soon.
Even now, while meditating, Revan was often surprised by his own sensations. It felt as if the Dark Side was gaining power. Back then, he attributed it to a self-inflicted imbalance in his own soul that distorted the image of the surrounding world. Now, however… perhaps he was sensing the birth of danger.
Revan stood up and sat on the bed. Wearily rubbing his face, he repeatedly replayed the image of the person who balanced the Light and the Dark. Was this an indication of someone specific? Or was the meaning much broader?
"In the vision, he passed on his knowledge to followers," the former Jedi mused aloud.
A teacher passing knowledge to students. Was this a reference to the Order? Or the Sith?
"No, there's something else here. The person used both Light and Dark. So the orthodox structures of the Force adherents don't fit," the man pondered.
He leaned back on the bed, placing his hands beneath his head.
The balance must be restored by someone who has known both sides…
Suddenly realizing the potential meaning of the vision, Revan shot up in bed, sitting upright with a jolt.
"Known both Light and Dark? Like a fallen Jedi who became a Sith Lord and then returned to the light?"
Thoughts raced through his head, replacing each other at lightning speed.
"I am neither Sith nor Jedi… I am the one who experienced both sides and retained my sanity. And the Force itself brought me back to life, though I had already parted with this world… thousands of years ago." He spoke the last words in a near whisper.
The initial shock subsided, and his mind cleared.
"Calm down. Visions are always a riddle with a double, or even triple, meaning. There is no single solution. This doesn't mean anything yet," he reassured himself.
And indeed. Sifting through the available information in his mind, he searched for other options. And there were many! For example, the chosen one could be anyone, and they might not even be born yet. Perhaps Revan was merely required to train a follower. On the other hand, the chosen one might not be a single person. After all, in the vision, knowledge was passed to tens and hundreds of people… A new Order?
"Or a revived old one," he suddenly thought.
Tython flashed in the vision. That was the birthplace of the ancient Je'daii Order. Even in the time of his past life, little was remembered about that Order, and certainly even less was discussed. And now? Was it remembered?
From the HoloNet, Revan learned that the path to Tython was closed because the hyperspace route had become unstable.
There was almost no information about the modern Jedi Order on the HoloNet. The organization guarded its secrets. How did they view the Force and the Dark Side now? What did they teach younglings and Padawans?
"Well, it's clear that nothing is clear," Revan drawled with a heavy sigh.
His subsequent plans were again vague. What was he supposed to do?
Suddenly, another vision struck his consciousness like a war hammer.
The beating heart of the Darkness. The once again growing shadow, encased in a metallic shell, consuming stars and creating armies.
"No!" Revan's eyes snapped open in horror.
He remembered that image perfectly. That was how he had seen that station in the Force… the focal point of the Dark Side… the legacy of the Rakata's Infinite Empire — the Star Forge.
"How could it have survived?" The man jumped to his feet and began pacing the cabin.
He recalled the attack of the Republic fleet. The final battle with Malak. They won, and the Forge was destroyed. It was blown to pieces. Not a single fragment larger than a couple of meters across remained. And even those burned up in the atmosphere of Rakata Prime.
"Or was not everything destroyed?"
Something must have happened, back when he was Darth Revan. But what?
His memory helpfully provided the needed recollection.
Darth Revan was the only Force-sensitive adept alive at the time who managed to grasp most of the Star Forge's secrets. One of those secrets was the Seed of the Infinite Engine—the foundation of the Star Forge's heart. A self-developing semi-mechanical organism that fed on the energy of the Dark Side. That very particle from which a new station could grow over tens of thousands of years. And he had hidden one such seed far away from the main Forge.
"Fool!" Revan dropped his head into his hands.
Did he think then, when he placed a ball the size of an apple on the lower levels of Nar Shaddaa, that thousands of years later he would have to face the consequences? No! Hutt, he hadn't even remembered it until today! His memory of those events when he was a Sith was still poorly processed.
Calming down a little, he pondered something else. How large could the engine have grown? The Star Forge was found more than 20,000 years after the destruction of the Rakata Empire. Assuming that the rebellious slaves would not have left the station alone, let's take it as a given that it was also heavily damaged back then. So, it recovered in 20,000 years. The Star Maps with similar self-repairing properties were still heavily damaged when Revan and Malak used them. None could show the exact location of the Forge. Only by visiting several planets and comparing the surviving data was he able to find the station itself.
"Three thousand isn't twenty thousand. A new Forge shouldn't have appeared yet," Revan thought.
However, the power of the Infinite Engine could be studied and used. To create an army that could…
"No," the former Jedi interrupted his thoughts. "I fell into that trap once before."
The Dark Side fueled the Forge, simultaneously enslaving the minds of the station's inhabitants. And Revan always felt it. He disliked being on the station and was slightly afraid of its power, but at the same time, he couldn't help but use its capabilities.
Even now, the desire to find the nascent Forge reappeared in him. However, his mind persistently insisted that this very thing could be the source of the galactic Darkness and must be destroyed.
The conflict between the two principles in his soul didn't last long.
"In any case, it must be found first!" the man concluded.
The plan of action for the next few years began to take shape. Revan planned to gather information and accumulate strength. But the first step, he decided, was to find the sprouted "seed." At least to learn its location. Then he should make contact with the Jedi Order and understand their motivations in this era.
Yes, the plan wasn't great, but Revan believed the Force would show him the way and lead him to the goal.
The search for the seed proved to be a difficult task. Meditation didn't help. Despite his best efforts, the Jedi couldn't feel the beating heart of darkness, as he had with the Star Forge. Perhaps it was still too small. Or perhaps the culprit was simply distance. However, he felt one thing for certain—nothing remained on Nar Shaddaa.
The Star Maps could help in the search. But, on his own recommendation, they were destroyed shortly after the victory over Malak. Or were they not all destroyed? After all, they only knew the location of a few maps. Others might be somewhere else. But where? Only other Star Maps could suggest the location. Was there a chance that one of the maps he knew of had survived? For example, on this desert planet?
Meditation helped him retrieve information from his memory: a report about the destruction of a dark artifact on Tatooine that Revan had read in passing without paying much attention.
"Due to heavy sandstorms in the operation area, the use of ground troops is impractical. Due to the limited time frame of the operation and the necessity of the cruiser 'Knows' in another system, it was decided to conduct an orbital bombardment of the quadrant in which the artifact is located," he recalled the text of the report. The coordinates and type of ammunition had faded from memory. "Successful hit precisely on the indicated coordinates. Conditional destruction of the object confirmed by the ground observer. Cruiser departs to provide support to the main fleet."
"Conditional destruction, then," Revan repeated.
As Carth once liked to say, in military terminology, anything that begins with the word "conditional" should be perceived as "imaginary."
"I knew they would treat this task carelessly," the Knight spat.
Although, at the moment, this was only to his advantage. The map was deep inside a cave. The orbital strike most likely only sealed the entrance. And after three thousand years, even a heavily damaged map could have recovered to an acceptable level.
Smiling once more at the fact that the Force had brought him specifically to Tatooine, Revan went to gather supplies and prepare the ship. He decided not to use the speeder but to fly.
"There are no coincidences. There is only the Force."
Six hours later, Revan stood on the crest of a sand dune, checking his map. The coordinates were correct. It was at this very spot that he, Bastila, and the Ebon Hawk crew had found the Star Map. However, all that surrounded him now was emptiness.
"Ugh, you Hutt's burp!" the Jedi cursed, finally realizing what he hadn't taken into account.
The problem was time. Over millennia, the sea of dunes had completely swallowed the cave.
Revan knelt and placed his hand on the sand. Concentrating, he directed currents of the Force deep into the sands, trying to feel a response from the dark artifact.
"There!"
At a depth of almost ten meters, he sensed the very cave. Apparently, the entrance was indeed blocked. There was no sand inside. The artifact pulsed with darkness, confirming its preservation.
"And how do I dig you out now?" the Jedi wondered, thoughtfully scratching the back of his head.
He tried to move the sand. It didn't work. Through the Force, every grain of sand felt like a separate object. To simultaneously move billions and billions of almost indiscernible objects… no amount of concentration would suffice.
After some thought, he decided to approach it from a different angle. Using Force Pushes, Revan created several powerful gusts of wind that stirred up a genuine sandstorm. The layer of sand did indeed become thinner, but it was impossible to stay in such conditions without a sealed environment suit.
Something else was needed.
Observing the small eddies that whirled from dune to dune, the man devised another idea.
He again called upon the wind, but this time, he twisted it into a spiral, creating a makeshift tornado. The vortex funnel eagerly sucked in the sand, growing and compacting. The layer became thinner and thinner. Finally, the stone blocks sealing the passage appeared.
Realizing it was time to stop, Revan shifted the vortex to the side. Then he began to gradually reduce its rotation speed. This proved much more difficult than simply creating the tornado. The mass of sand sought to accelerate the air currents again. Soon, however, Tatooine's gravity came to his aid. The vortex slowed and dumped tons of sand, creating a new sand dune.
Revan descended into the resulting funnel and began clearing the blockage. Even with the use of the Force, it took him several hours. The whole process thoroughly exhausted him, but the Light Side generously nourished his body, driving away fatigue.
Finally, armed with a flashlight, the former Jedi re-entered the Star Map cave.
The vault had withstood the bombardment. Fortunately, there were no internal blockages—just a pile of rocks and the petrified bones of the numerous victims of the dragon that had inhabited the cave thousands of years ago.
Penetrating a couple of hundred meters deeper, Revan finally discerned the faint outlines of the ancient artifact ahead. Taking an emergency flare from his backpack, he turned the activator and tossed the hissing cylinder forward, shielding his eyes. A flash of light illuminated the cave ceiling. The flare ignited, bathing the surrounding space in a bright glow from the decay reaction of a weak radioactive isotope. And yes, it was not recommended to be near it for more than a day. That's why it was an emergency flare. Used in case of a shipwreck. It both lit, heated, and "fanned" out a signal in a range easily detectable by rescuers.
The Jedi's gaze swept over the three petals of the folded artifact, which was taller than he was. The entire cave was saturated with the energy of the Dark Side. A chill seeped into his bones, constricting not only his body but also his soul. Everything was exactly as he remembered. Or was it?
A metallic glint in the corner caught his attention. Revan aimed the beam of his handheld lamp at it.
"It can't be!" the man exclaimed, astonished and overjoyed.
The flashlight beam brightly illuminated the dust and oxidation-covered hull of a droid. An anthropomorphic structure, a wide armored torso, and a head with a grated mask and two red optical sensors.
"HK-47!" Revan rushed to the droid.
A quick inspection showed no structural damage. The entire construction was in perfect order. A few blaster impact marks, but no breach of the armor. And in fact… the armor had a coating of cortosis.
"Where did you get that?" Revan wondered.
However, the Jedi knew nothing about what the droid had been doing since their last meeting. If memory served, HK had been helping the deranged half of Revan's consciousness create a droid army until Satele stopped them.
It took almost two hours to carefully remove the protective casing and inspect the droid's main components. With the help of the Force, Revan cleansed it of dirt, dust, and corrosion. A quick diagnostic revealed no malfunctions. The circuits of the galaxy's finest assassin had survived the test of time. Its creator found no critical changes in its structure. Only one question remained—had the personality survived?
The droid lacked only a power cell for reactivation. In fact, it had shut down precisely due to the lack of energy. Its reactor had long burned all its fuel, and the reserve accumulators were drained.
Fortunately, the remains of an astromech droid were still lying on the ship, and its power cells had survived. The reactor, however, was kaput. But no matter. One power cell was enough to activate the droid. Luckily, Revan had once designed it so that HK had a universal socket for backup power cells, and if the ancient Lord remembered correctly, parts from a droid of this era were perfectly suitable for installation. Versatility was key to the assassin droid's high efficiency.
Forgetting about the Star Map, Revan ran back to the ship with lightning speed and brought a repair kit and a couple of fuel cells. Installing the power cell through a small service hatch, usually hidden under the armor, Revan started the reactivation process.
The droid's red sensor eyes flared. Squeaking its joints, it stirred and stared at the man standing before it with a joyful smile.
In a flash, the droid seized the man's throat in a steel grip.
"Joyful: HK-47 is active again! Thank you for your assistance, Meatbag. Before I twist your neck, is there any equally worthless meatbag in your worthless life whose death would please you?" the droid asked, customarily announcing the tone at the beginning of the sentence. "I promise that as a reward for the rescue, they will be the first one I terminate! Well, after you, heh-heh."
Gasping in the grip of his own creation, Revan hissed:
"I am your creator. I am Revan!"
The droid blinked its sensors.
"Condescending: Oh, of course. You're not the first to say that, Meatbag."
"It's true!"
"Sarcastic: Oh, of course! Master! How could I not recognize you! You've become so young, changed your hair color, eye color, skull bones, and DNA sequence!"
Calling upon the Force, Revan managed to break the droid's grip and push it away. But the assassin was not ready to give up.
"Threatening: A Jedi? My creator programmed me, among other things, to counteract such as you!"
Revan swore. Indeed, he had trained the droid to kill Force-sensitives. It had been necessary in the war against the Order.
HK clicked its joints, testing its mobility. It had no weapon, but that didn't make it any less dangerous. Its memory contained all the major close-combat styles known in the galaxy. Revan had also added all seven lightsaber combat forms so that the droid could develop countermeasures. Separate mention is due to the means of suppression and concentration disruption, intended to hinder Force-sensitives from using the Force. For example, a high-frequency sound wave generator that hits the vestibular apparatus directly, causing dizziness and pain.
The droid was already ready to lunge at its opponent, along a chaotic trajectory, as Revan had taught it, to complicate Force-based precognition.
"Stop! Authorization code: "R-479025/Malak is an arrogant meatbag,"" the Jedi quickly said, raising his hands.
The assassin stopped, straightened, and tilted its head slightly. Its eyes blinked again.
"Joyful Greeting: Master! HK-47 is ready to serve again!"
Revan exhaled and sat down tiredly on the ground.
"I'm glad you remembered me," the Knight whispered, mentally thanking himself for his foresight.
If not for the code, things would have been difficult right now. Dealing with HK-47 without a saber… it was possible, but not without losses. This droid wouldn't stop until the target was dead. And its skills and experience put it on par with the strongest warriors in the galaxy. Even Canderous, Mandalore the Preserver, admitted that he would struggle to handle HK one-on-one… with great difficulty.
"Impatient Question: Master, does anyone need to be killed?" the droid spoke up, seeing that its Master was lost in thought.
Revan shook his head.
"No, HK." The droid made a sound like a disappointed sigh. "Not yet."
The prospect of going into battle again cheered the droid.
"First, though, you need to be patched up. And your reactor refueled."
The assassin blinked its optical sensors rapidly, initiating a self-diagnostic.
"Extensive technical maintenance of all systems is required. Combat readiness is only 47%. The reactor is inactive, the batteries are depleted, the joints lack lubricant, and the armor is covered with the oxidation products of cortosis from…" the droid briefly froze, trying to determine the current date, "many years, Master," it dodged.
"Almost four thousand, HK. You and I have ended up in a completely different world… figuratively speaking. By the way, where did the cortosis armor come from?"
"Proud Explanation: A gift from Mandalore the Restorer, Randous Ordo, Master."
Revan raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Ordo? A clan member of Canderous?"
"Affirmative: Yes, Master. A direct descendant. He took the title of Mandalore during the Sith Empire war. For the most part, he maintained neutrality, occasionally assisting the Republic."
"And how did you end up with him? I don't clearly remember the events on Lehon."
"Regretful: Master, my memory of those events is also lost. I don't know how, but after the battle, I found myself in the possession of Master Satele Shan. Since she was a relative of yours, I decided to serve her." The droid briefly looked away. "Annoyed: The most boring years of my operation, Master." The assassin lowered its head slightly. "How I hate that word…"
Revan coughed, trying to hide a laugh. He remembered perfectly that HK hated the address "Master," but it was deeply embedded in his behavioral matrix.
"And eventually, she gave you to Mandalore?"
"Reasoned: Not immediately, Master. Initially, she tried to deactivate me… three times."
The Jedi immediately recalled the long line of unfortunate droid owners who died from tragic accidents, almost always at HK's hands.
"It's a miracle she survived," he muttered barely audibly.
"Offended: Master! I would never harm an owner!"
Revan arched an eyebrow in a sarcastic gesture.
"Intentionally," the droid added.
The Jedi laughed.
"So, continue the story."
"Ready: As you wish, Master. Tired of the futile attempts to disable my assassin protocols, Master Satele gifted me to Mandalore, who could have used a bodyguard at the time." The droid puffed up. "Dreamily: Oh, how many glorious deaths that brought," HK purred.
Revan shook his head.
"And what happened next? How did you end up here?"
"Annoyed: Yes, Master. Five years into my service to Mandalore, Master Satele took me back for an important mission."
"What mission?"
"Explanation: She saw, in her words, a vision. In which you, Master, returned to life."
Revan swallowed.
"And?"
"Bored: She sent me to find you, Master. However, it turned out not to be so simple. Your disappearance left no traces. My only clues were Master Satele's vision descriptions. A desert planet and two suns."
"Tatooine?" Revan interrupted the droid.
"Irritated: Do you even realize how many planets in the galaxy have similar parameters, Master?"
"Uh, no."
"Mimicking: "No. I am a meatbag and only know of one planet.""
"Hey!"
"Appeasing: Forgive me, Master. A total of sixty-two planets with such parameters were found. Twelve of them are inhabited."
"And you inspected all of them?"
"Affirmative: Yes, Master. Starting with Tatooine." The droid lowered its head. "Regretful: But no traces were found anywhere. Then I decided to check the places you had visited in your time and returned to Tatooine… where my energy ran out."
The story was incredible. Satele foresaw his return and even specified the planet.
"Wait a minute, how did you get into the cave? The entrance was blocked, wasn't it?"
"Surprised: Only the main passage was blocked. The two other exits survived, Master."
"Two others?!"
"Instructive: Krayt dragons always make a spare exit from their lair or settle in caves where such entrances already exist."
Revan slapped his forehead with his palm.
"And how did we not notice that?"
"Bored: During your first visit, you weren't given the opportunity to thoroughly inspect the cave. The attack by Calo Nord and his mercenaries shifted the focus of your attention, Master. And afterward, no one remembered the cave."
And it was true. No one had inspected the cave. There was no time. It was a race against Malak.
The droid stirred.
"Delighted: Master! Master Satele asked me to pass on two things to you. She said they were kept in the Shan family, awaiting your return."
Revan was surprised by this turn of events. He was barely acquainted with Satele, and even then, mostly the ghost of the Jedi who had passed into the Force communicated with her. Why would she need to give him something?
Meanwhile, HK moved to a corner, rummaged through a pile of stones, and extracted an armored case. Without a word, the assassin handed the container to Revan. The latter, still not understanding why anyone would need to give him something, accepted the Shan family's gift.
Engraved on the case, for it was indeed a case, was a depiction: two silhouettes, a man and a woman, in traditional Jedi Order robes. They stood back-to-back, with their blades activated and ready for combat. The man held two blades; a saber in his right hand and a short shoto in his left. The woman was preparing to strike with a lightsaber staff.
"Bastila," Revan breathed, recognizing the silhouette of his beloved.
A moment later, a hologram of the woman whose name had just been spoken formed from streams of light above the case's surface. Revan dropped the container in surprise. The hologram increased in size, making the image absolutely identical to the original.
"Bastila," the man repeated, his voice hoarse.
The translucent figure of the woman turned her head and looked directly at him. A smile lit up her face.
"Hello, my love."
Revan stared in astonishment at the hologram. Such a dear and familiar face, eyes slightly narrowed with feigned boredom, hair braided into two tails… This was his Bastila. Exactly as he remembered her.
He hesitantly raised his hand and tried to touch the translucent face, but his hand simply passed through the light-woven illusion.
"You…" He didn't know what to say.
And who was he even talking to? It was just a hologram. A message recorded thousands of years ago.
"Surprised?" Bastila suddenly asked.
Revan blinked, trying to figure out if he'd heard correctly.
"You… You can see me?" he finally managed to stammer out.
The woman laughed.
"I see you're surprised. Don't be afraid. It's just that I wanted to tell you so many things that no simple message would have contained," his beloved continued with a smile.
The meaning of her words didn't sink in immediately, but suddenly something clicked in his memory!
"A Holocron?!¨ he exclaimed in amazement.
The image nodded.
"Yes. Master Dorak helped me create it… just a couple of days before his death."
The Jedi smacked his forehead once again. Of course! He himself had once created several Holocrons storing his knowledge, experience, and even an imprint of his consciousness. Though he had created them as a Dark Lord and would now be wary of approaching them.
"And you placed the Holocron in this case?"
"Yes. I wanted to be sure that my gift would go only to you. Besides, there was so much I wanted to tell you."
Revan smiled.
"But how did you recognize me? I look completely different now," the man suddenly realized.
The Jedi Knight crossed her arms over her chest.
"Do you think I wouldn't recognize my love?" she asked, sounding hurt.
"No… I didn't mean…" Revan hesitated, but Bastila merely laughed.
"It's simple, dear. I spent a great deal of time recalling and precisely restoring the pattern of your aura in the Force. It doesn't matter what you look like on the outside. Your soul, consciousness, essence, call it what you will, they remain unchanged. As soon as the Holocron detected the currents of the Force you directed at the case, I knew who had taken my gift into their hands."
Indeed, out of habit, Revan had felt the container with waves of the Force when he accepted it from HK-47. That had given the Holocron the energy to activate.
Astonishing. The idea of using a Keeper of Knowledge to convey one's image and talk to a dear person, and also to protect the container from being opened… A Jedi wouldn't have thought of that.
"I think I had a bad influence on you," Revan said ruefully, but with a smile.
Bastila raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Your unconventional ideas and cunning are worthy of a Sith title."
The hologram laughed brightly and sincerely, exactly as Bastila did in the brief moments when she let go of her invariably strict emotional control.
"You could say I adopted a part of your teachings."
Revan looked into the illusion's face again. His chest ached, and a lump of grief began to rise in his throat.
"I miss you so much," he whispered.
The smile vanished from the Jedi Knight's face.
"I missed you too."
"Forgive me, Bastila…"
"For what?"
"I left you alone… I left all of you alone." The Knight's eyes filled with tears. The hologram remained silent, frowning slightly. "I left at the very moment you needed me most. I went on a senseless and mad campaign, led by the foolish principles of an Order whose member I no longer was."
Revan sank to his knees. The feeling of guilt and the realization that nothing could be corrected strangled him with a searing noose in his chest.
A silence fell, broken only by the ragged breathing of the broken Jedi.
"I cannot forgive you," the hologram finally stated loudly.
Revan raised a defeated gaze to her.
"I cannot forgive you. For I am merely a humble image of my creator. You have already received your forgiveness from the one who merged with the Force. So stand up and wipe away the tears of sorrow. There was no guilt in that action of yours."
"You…" the stunned Revan wanted to ask, but the Holocron Keeper interrupted him.
"I didn't realize it immediately. But in time, I got answers. Including from Master Dorak. I know what the Council did to you. Therefore, do not blame yourself for leaving. Neither I nor Vaner ever accused you of anything."
The former Jedi, former Sith… the reborn Revan stood up and sighed with relief, feeling an entire planet fall from his shoulders.
"Thank you," was all he could manage.
"Don't thank me. After all, this conversation is one of the reasons for creating the Holocron."
"Speaking of that," the man seized on the thought. "How did you know that I would return to the world?"
"I had a vision. You were fighting for peace in the galaxy again, but many, many years later. That's when I thought my gift would be useful to you." The hologram gestured to the case. "At first, I planned to pass it down as a relic from generation to generation. But there was a risk that a stranger would open it. That's when I thought about creating the Holocron."
"And you left the case with the family?"
"Yes, instructing my descendants to guard and pass it on at the right moment. But, apparently, that didn't work out." She glanced at HK-47.
The droid, catching the look, interjected.
"Fawning: Master, allow me to explain. Master Satele also had a similar vision. However, she did not understand what time period it referred to. Deciding to be safe, she sent me on the search."
Bastila tilted her head in doubt, but Revan nodded in agreement.
"That makes sense," the man said.
"What exactly?" the Jedi Knight inquired.
"HK-47 is a hunter-assassin. He will strive to complete the mission, knowing neither fear nor fatigue. And he will never stop. Plus, with the armor they put on him, he's almost invulnerable. You couldn't have found a better guardian for your gift.
The hologram gave an offended cough.
"Well, besides, of course, a Holocron with your image," Revan quickly corrected himself.
Bastila snorted.
"In any case, I think the items I placed in the case will be very useful to you."
The man shifted his gaze to the container at his feet. He carefully knelt, trying not to block the built-in holoprojector. The lock activator beeped, and the case lid jumped slightly, opening a gap between the halves. Revan carefully hooked his fingers under the lid and opened the container.
"Unbelievable," he breathed out in admiration mixed with disbelief.
Lying in special recesses in the case were only two things: Bastila's lightsaber staff and Revan's Mandalorian mask. Both artifacts were literally saturated with the Force. The mask that the fallen Jedi found in the ruins of Cathar and wore almost constantly throughout the war. Over the years of fighting, it became his "face." Even his closest comrades and subordinates didn't see what was beneath it. This explained why, after the Dark Lord's memory loss, no one could recognize him in the simple Republic soldier for a very long time.
Revan carefully lifted the mask, gently stroked the T-shaped visor plate, and offered a faint smile. This object was an important part of his past life. And he sorely missed it in this one.
"How did you find it? It was left on Lehon! Already after… your death…" Revan asked, realizing the impossibility of the situation.
"Satele found the mask. I only advised her to add a new artifact to my original gift," the woman indicated the lightsaber. "You remember it, don't you?"
The man shifted his gaze to the hilt of the deactivated staff—Bastila's favorite weapon. This was not the blade that traveled with them on the Ebon Hawk. That one was destroyed aboard the Star Forge when Revan tried to reason with his beloved, who had succumbed to the Dark Side.
The only thing this staff had from the original was the focusing crystal. Or rather, one of them. The former Dark Lord had personally helped the Jedi Knight develop the new weapon. The idea was to make the weapon more versatile. Unlike a standard staff, it had two sets of focusing crystals and independent power cells. Structurally, it resembled two standard lightsaber hilts connected to each other. The blades activated independently. If desired, the staff could be separated into dual blades. Bastila herself added the intricate artistic carving in memory of her mother, with whom she had finally reconciled.
Revan had extracted the second set of crystals from his own saber. This staff became a symbol of their unity. Both were confident that they would never part.
Revan gently took the gifted weapon into his hands. He carefully inspected every millimeter. Then he closed his eyes and looked inside, using the Force. Everything was fine, all parts intact. Although… Something was alarming. The crystals. For thousands of years, they had been infused with the energy of the Force… and the Dark Side, which dominated this cave. Bastila's golden crystal had changed its structure and color. Revan wouldn't hazard a guess what the energy arc of the blade would look like. The second crystal, as if trying to compensate for the fate of its counterpart, had shrunk and densified, losing color but preserving itself from the Darkness.
"Interesting," Revan murmured, standing up and extending the staff in front of him.
He clicked the activation button.
With a hiss and a vibrating screech, two blades erupted from both ends of the lightsaber.
Revan stared transfixed at the flickering blades. One, almost completely black with a bright golden glow at the edges, an echo of the crystal's former color. The second, silvery-white with a dull greenish core. It was as if Light and Darkness themselves had decided to serve as the weapon of a Knight who could not stop calling himself a Jedi.
The blades had character; he could feel it. The even and shining white-green: calm and serenity. And the aggressive, threatening black, across whose blade flashes of golden flame occasionally raced, hinting at the arc's instability. It seemed to be straining for battle, burning with fury and anticipation.
Revan took a step, a lunge, a roll, and a spin, testing the weapon. The staff lay perfectly in his hands. However, the man didn't particularly favor this type of lightsaber. Grasping the hilt with both hands, he twisted the ends of the handle in opposite directions. With a slight click, the staff separated into two sabers. The black one in his right hand, the white in his left.
In his time, Revan had mastered the Jar'Kai technique of dual-blade combat. And his favorite style was Juyo. Feeling a rush of euphoria from the familiar sensation of the weapon in his hands, the man, like an restless Padawan, bounded around the cave, performing lunges and pirouettes. How much he had missed this! Only now did he realize how uncomfortable he had felt without the weapon so familiar to every Jedi.
The hologram of Bastila watched the husband of the Holocron's creator and smiled.
Noticing her gaze, Revan stopped.
"Thank you," he sincerely thanked her.
"I'm glad you like the gift."
The man rejoined the halves of the staff and secured it to his belt across his lower back. He put the mask away in his backpack for now. He would need a Mandalorian undertunic to securely fasten it.
"Revan," Bastila addressed him, suddenly serious.
"Yes?"
"I must also deliver a message to you from my creator. Will you listen?"
"Of course!"
The hologram straightened and looked directly into the man's eyes. Her expression changed, becoming relaxed and slightly sorrowful.
"My love. I don't know when my gift will reach your hands, but I believe that day will come. By that time, I will have long been one with the Force. I beg you; do not grieve. You have no guilt toward us."
Revan slightly lowered his shoulders but did not dare to tear his gaze from the translucent figure.
"My dear, nothing is more important to me than your happiness. I beg you, do not let the memory of me become your shackles. Live! Be happy! Love and be loved! Goodbye."
"Bastila," the man whispered, reaching for the hologram with his hand.
The woman's image flickered, indicating that the recording had ended and the Holocron Keeper was before him again.
Behind him, the droid's joints creaked.
"Concerned: Master, a sharp drop in your emotional state is observed, which could lead to depression. Shall we kill someone? To improve the mood?"
The suggestion was so absurd and yet so earnest that it drew an involuntary smirk from the former Jedi. He looked at the face of his wife's hologram one last time and reached out with the Force to the Holocron, deactivating it.
"Time to get down to business," he nodded resolutely.
"Anticipatory: An excellent thought, Master! And what is our objective?" HK-47 straightened up.
"To find the Star Forge again."
The droid blinked its optical sensors a couple of times and turned its head toward the deactivated Star Map. Revan followed the gaze and recognized the artifact. Slowly, he approached, sensing the dark aura from the Rakatan Empire's creation.
As if sensing his presence, the device activated. The three petals spread apart, freeing the central sphere, which rose and glowed, projecting a map around itself.
Millennia had been kind to the artifact. The map was now more detailed, having apparently established a connection with its "sisters." Four new planets were added to the already known locations of the Star Maps. Based on the current position of the stars, Revan found it difficult to precisely name them.
His attention was drawn to a barely noticeable, pulsing dot, located, judging by its position, on the very border of the Republic's outer rim inhabited systems. It wasn't the Star Forge… but something similar to it. In any case, it was something dangerous, and it needed to be found.
"HK," Revan called, "do you recognize these systems?"
"Negative: No, Master. I apologize."
"Hmm… We'll have to get detailed maps of the explored systems. And those, I recall, are expensive," the Jedi mused. "Unless…"
"Bold Conjecture: The Central Archives of the Order on Coruscant?" the droid suggested.
"Reading my mind," Revan nodded.
HK-47 puffed up, accepting the praise.
"I was planning to visit the Jedi anyway. Many questions have arisen since I woke up here," the former Sith Lord reflected aloud. "All that's left is to figure out how to pull it off. I don't think showing up at the Temple with joyous shouts that Revan has returned is a good idea."
"Evaluative: With good fire support, the plan is quite feasible, Master."
"No, HK, we're not going to storm the Temple," the man shook his head. "We'll find another way."
The droid nodded, its neck joint loudly creaking.
"And first, we need to patch you up and get some decent gear," Revan chuckled.
"Grateful: I completely agree with you, Master."
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