The mandatory registration fee for landing the small freighter and its few crew members at the spaceport was 500 credits. The senior officer, an assassin droid, offered a radical solution to the payment problem: using a couple of thermal detonators delivered straight to the control tower and the administrator's office as currency. However, the captain of the ship forbade such an autonomous initiative.
Nonetheless, given the exorbitant fee for the ancient rust bucket, Revan seriously considered pulling the old mind trick. But on a planet housing the Jedi Order, drawing unnecessary attention was out of the question.
"Query: Master, what is your next course of action?" HK-47 inquired, checking a pair of blaster pistols.
"I plan to visit the Jedi Temple and delve into the Order's archives. I have many questions I hope to find answers to."
The former Jedi rummaged through a pile of rags, selecting a suitable outfit. Appearing at the Temple as a mercenary was unwise, as was wearing his black robes and mask.
"Query: Are you planning a stealth infiltration?"
"Yes, HK. If the rules haven't changed, you can't just walk into the Temple. And access to the archives is only granted to members of the Order," Revan replied, throwing on a light-gray cloak. "Although I am formally a Jedi, since no one ever expelled me, openly announcing my return right now would be foolish."
"Affirmative: You are withholding strategic information until the opportune moment?"
"In part, yes," Revan nodded, combing his hair back.
The droid observed his creator's actions for a minute but couldn't seem to find an explanation for what he was doing.
"Query: Master, what are you doing?"
"I'm trying to find something suitable for a young Knight," the former Sith critically examined his reflection.
The initial plan to enter the Temple disguised as a Padawan was scrapped, as such a disguise would limit his freedom of action. Masters always keep a close eye on Padawans, especially those whose teachers aren't present. Revan didn't want to get into a situation where he'd have to quickly answer the question, "Where is your Master?" Especially since the only Jedi he knew by name was Qui-Gon Jinn.
However, another problem had arisen.
"Too young for a Knight," the former Sith stated with a frown.
"Suggestion: Scars could create the necessary effect," HK-47 enthusiastically proposed.
"No, thank you," the ancient one moved away from the droid with caution. "I wear a mask for a different reason."
"Sarcastic: As you wish, Master," HK-47 shrugged. "Suggestion: Perhaps we should resort to archaic methods of disguise?"
"You mean makeup?"
"Affirmative."
"Not a bad idea. But where would I even find anything like that?"
"Surprised: Three minutes walk from Dock No. 25, where we are located."
"What?"
"Explanation: The 'Glimmer and Glow' salon, according to its HoloNet advertisements, offers various options for altering one's appearance, including the use of prosthetic hair."
Revan froze, staring at the droid.
"A stylist?" he asked again.
"Affirmative."
It was surprising that he hadn't thought of it himself! Even 4,000 years ago, any stylist could change a sentient's appearance beyond recognition. Makeup, haircuts, follicular stimulators for accelerated hair growth—anything the client desired.
"An excellent idea, HK," the former Jedi praised the droid.
"Proud: Thank you, Master. When do we depart?"
Taking an assassin droid into the sanctuary of the "Guardians of Peace," as the adepts of the Light Side now called themselves, wasn't the best idea. At least, that's what Revan thought. However, he didn't want to leave HK on the ship, either. Force forbid, he'd get bored. The droid had peculiar notions of entertainment. He needed to be given an important assignment to occupy him.
Glancing at the rusted bulkheads and dangling shreds of wiring overhead, the ancient one quickly figured out what needed to be done.
"HK, you're not coming with me," the former Sith began, but seeing HK-47 drop his head, he continued, "You will have a different mission."
"Ready: I'm listening, Master?" the assassin instantly perked up.
"It's time for us to swap our Dump for something more suitable. That means you'll have to work as a salesman. Can you handle it?"
"Query: What are the main parameters for the new vessel?" the droid responded with equanimity.
Revan already had the answer to that question prepared.
"Something as close as possible to the Ebon Hawk, but taking into account the passage of time. A ship that is fast and spacious enough, yet with decent armament."
"Clarification: Would it not be better to select a military vessel?"
"No. Military ships aren't accepted in all systems, and landing clearance would be harder to obtain. Not to mention such ships are under strict control by the Judicial Corps," Revan dismissed the option. "Freighters are much more convenient in this regard. Does Core Galaxy Systems still manufacture fast, compact freighters?"
"One moment, Master," HK replied, walking over to the HoloNet terminal installed in the mess hall. "Regretful: Core Galaxy Systems went bankrupt and was bought out by Corellian Engineering Corporation only three years after your disappearance."
"Do they manufacture freighters?"
"Affirmative. The most popular are the YT and YV series ships. These models allow for extensive modification of the main systems."
"Excellent. We need a cargo capacity of at least... hmm... a hundred tons. A hyperdrive no lower than Class One... and the capability of being managed by a minimal crew. Preferably by just one pilot."
"Understood. I have several options."
"Show me."
"YT-1210, a light freighter, with a cargo capacity of 100 tons."
An image of a light freighter with a disk-shaped hull and a protruding central section appeared above the terminal, followed by a schematic of the ship's internal architecture.
"Not suitable," Revan shook his head. "Only one laser cannon and no additional ports for weapons systems. And the communications will need an overhaul. The network won't withstand the extra load. There's no space in the engineering bay for a more powerful reactor."
"Agreed, Master. This model does not satisfy the core requirements." The droid brought up a new image. "YT-1300. A more spacious model with a redesigned weapons system."
The hologram of the Corellian freighter was appealing. A roomy cargo hold, two quad-laser turrets in the upper and lower hemispheres, and a well-designed power grid with calculations for increased energy consumption and the use of a more powerful engine and reactor.
"Hmm... not bad. There's room for imagination. But I don't like the position of the cockpit," Revan rotated the image. "The side-mounted bridge is convenient for docking with cargo terminals, but not for maneuverable combat. I prefer the cockpit to be in the center of the nose, like on a fighter. You get a better sense of balance."
"Understood, Master." The image changed again. "YT-1930, a new release, just hitting the market."
The ship's exterior virtually mirrored the previous variant, but the cockpit was in the required location, and two additional sections, resembling wings, were situated in the stern.
Revan liked the freighter. Examining the image, he involuntarily smiled.
"Not a Hawk, but an Eagle," he whispered. "Superb. The cost?"
"Doubtful: Approximately 130,000 credits. There are no used models, Master."
"A bit pricey," the Jedi thoughtfully stroked his chin. "How much can we get for selling our ship?"
"Contemptuous: Based on preliminary estimates from the HoloNet, this model in its current condition is not worth more than 16,000 credits."
Revan pondered. He already had a decent sum of credits, "earned" on Tatooine, but he didn't intend to squander it thoughtlessly. The YT-1930 suited all the parameters, with the exception of the relatively weak armament. But that issue was easily solvable, given the additional gun ports on the ship's flanks. It was just the cost...
"Delighted: Master!" HK suddenly spoke up.
"What is it?"
"Proud: I have found a suitable option!"
"What is it?" the former Sith was interested.
"A prototype of the YT-1930/FLP model is currently undergoing scheduled maintenance in the Corellian Engineering Corporation docks here on Coruscant," the assassin droid announced. "This is stated on their official HoloNet page. The engineers boast that the prototype flew the boundary of the Outer Rim without a single breakdown. Although they don't specify whether it was the far or near boundary. And the diagnostic protocols are not presented..."
"HK, focus."
"Of course, Master." The droid stopped reading the article. "Ready: The prototype is scheduled to be put up for auction for used equipment."
The option was decent. The initial cost of the ship promised not to be too high.
"When is the auction?"
"Information: The auction is scheduled for this evening. Approximately six and a half hours from now."
"A Hutt..."
There was little time for preparation. And putting off the trip to the Temple was not an option. Revan felt it. The only remaining choice was to send HK-47 to the auction.
"Oh, I'm going to regret this," the Jedi grumbled and turned to the droid. "HK, I am commissioning you to go to that auction and purchase the YT-1930/FLP ship."
"Joyful: Acknowledged, Master!" the metallic killer stood at attention.
"And no killing!" the former Sith immediately added strictly. "This isn't Tatooine. The last thing we need is trouble with the Coruscant authorities."
"Sad: As you wish, Master."
Suppressing the ill forebodings associated with the purchase of a new ship, Revan left the 'rust bucket' and headed for the stylist's salon. She turned out to be a green-skinned Twi'lek who wasn't at all surprised by the young man's request to create an "older" look for him. Thus, the ancient one acquired a sparse but neat beard, a couple of decorative scars, and long hair pulled back into a ponytail.
It turned out that the "Jedi look" was quite popular among certain circles of Coruscant fashionistas. So he even managed to find a classic Order robe, replacing the strange gray cloak Revan had found on the ship.
Three hours later, the former Jedi was already heading for the speeder taxi stand to finally set off for the Temple. He hung the hilt of his silvery lightsaber on his belt, hiding the second blade in his sleeve. The handle casings heavily shielded the crystals, making them difficult to detect in the Force. This was a good thing, considering the strong emanations of the Dark Side coming from the dark saber.
Revan also took care to conceal his dark half, leaving only the Light Side aura, characteristic of the members of the Jedi Order, "on display." The ancient one hoped this would be enough to avoid suspicion. But it was best not to run into strongly Force-sensitive individuals.
Renting an inexpensive speeder, the former Sith quickly reached the Temple district. Inside, everything tightened with anticipation. He felt he had to visit this place, as if he were returning home after a long time.
The Temple was striking in its size and architecture. Massive statues, wide terraces, galleries, and passages surrounding the central ziggurat only added to the complex's monumentality. It seemed indestructible. But Revan knew perfectly well that nothing was indestructible. Even this Temple had been rebuilt several times. And yet, it was magnificent!
"Too bad you can't see it, Bastila," the ancient one whispered.
Circling the complex several times, the former Jedi found what he was looking for—a hidden passage at the base of the Temple's second structure. Revan didn't want to enter through the main entrance, so he hoped that at least one of the passages he remembered from his training still existed.
Landing the speeder in the nearest suitable spot, the former Sith made sure he wasn't being watched and reached an ordinary-looking grate covering the entrance to the sewage system in a few leaps. But beneath this unattractive composition lay the entrance to the Temple complex, built by the four founding Masters.
Revan had stumbled upon it accidentally as a youngling and, naturally, told no one. Even in his time, only a few Masters knew about this place. Opening it was only possible for a Force-sensitive, as the passage was concealed by several stone blocks. And behind them lay a short transition to a network of tunnels designed for the Order's evacuation.
'Unfortunately, they didn't help during the Sith Empire's attack three and a half millennia ago,' Revan thought sadly.
With a movement of his hand, he slid aside the stone blocks concealing the passage and slipped inside.
The air was stale, indicating a lack of ventilation, and thus, a cave-in somewhere ahead. Unless the Jedi had cleverly blocked the path themselves, which was unlikely. The condition of the walls suggested that no one had been down here for at least several centuries. And this worried Revan. There was no lighting, so the ancient one ignited his lightsaber to use it as a light source.
Ahead, something chilling could be distinctly felt. The former Sith recognized the sensation of sticky cold flowing down his spine. He had felt the same way walking through the Valley of the Dark Lords on Korriban. The same sensation haunted him on the Star Forge. The Dark Side.
"Where did this come from?" Revan wondered at the presence of such a thing within the walls of the Order of Light.
The answer was quickly found. In the dull light of the silvery blade, a figure covered by a decayed shroud appeared. With a slight nudge of his foot, Revan realized it was an ancient Sith armor from Vitiate's era. Its wearer had long turned to dust, but the armor was still strong and protected its master's remains. A metallic cylinder clattered under his foot. Looking closely, Revan recognized it as a lightsaber. Obeying a momentary surge of curiosity, he ignited it.
"Crimson," the former Dark Lord stated the fact, examining the blood-red, flickering blade.
A further examination of this section of the tunnel revealed the remains of the ancient Sith's opponent. The cloth armor, characteristic of the Order's Masters during the Old Republic, was still easily recognizable in the pile of rags against the opposite wall.
Traces from a lightsaber were clearly visible on both the Sith's armor and the Jedi's robes.
"So, you had a fight here," the former Jedi said, running his hand over the melted breastplate of the Sith, on which the emblem of Vitiate's Empire could still be distinguished. "And both of you lost."
A vision surged over him like a sharp wave, as if the Force had long wanted to tell what had happened here. Revan clearly saw children, younglings, and Padawans hurrying towards the exit, urged on by the Masters of the Order. Flashes and the characteristic sounds of a fierce lightsaber battle were visible behind them. Apparently, this was an episode during Darth Malgus's attack on the Temple.
Suddenly, two figures burst into the tunnel—a Jedi and a Sith.
"Your Temple has fallen!" the Sith roared, his face hidden by a solid mask depicting a beast's snarl.
Following the words, a crimson blade descended upon the Jedi.
The blow was parried by the green blade of a young Zabrak in light-brown robes.
"The Temple is just a building!" The Order's defender made several lunges. "As long as one Jedi lives, the Order will exist!"
A somersault and a series of whipping strikes helped the green blade reach its target, leaving a scorching line on the mask. The dark one howled in pain and tore off the mask. A red-skinned Pureblood Sith, whose gaze glittered with molten gold, demonstrating his unity with the Dark Side, glared at the Jedi with fury.
"You will die here, Jedi," he hissed.
"Perhaps," the Zabrak countered, shaking his blade. "But others will live."
The Sith rushed into the fight with a roar. Red and green blades clashed, reflecting the rage and determination of their masters. The streaks of blows merged into a single flash as both opponents accelerated to their limit.
It ended in the blink of an eye. The irreconcilable enemies parted. The head of the dark adept was separated from the body. The Jedi, however, slowly sank to the wall, clutching a wide wound on his chest. Yet, there was a smile on his face.
He had managed to protect the children. Even at such a cost.
Revan was back in the dark tunnel amidst the remains of ancient warriors. Both fought for their beliefs, for their Order. And both fought bravely.
Turning the Sith blade over in his hand, the former Jedi placed it on the armor's breastplate. Then he found the second blade, which had belonged to the Jedi, and placed it over the wide slash on the cloth armor.
"Rest in peace in the eternity of the Great Force," Revan said, bowing his head.
A barely perceptible current of air swept through the tunnel. The Force was calming. The emanations of the Dark Side grew weaker. The echo of the long-past battle gradually faded.
The ancient one moved forward, towards his goal.
It soon became clear why everything was so neglected here. The path was blocked by a cave-in. Judging by the state of the stones, no one had even attempted to clear it. Perhaps due to the aura of the Dark Side that permeated this tunnel. Or perhaps because no one remembered its existence. After all, those who came to rebuild the Temple after the destruction of the Sith Triumvirate were mostly from distant enclaves. Few were familiar with the structure of the Temple and its secrets.
Revan cautiously checked the collapse and the space beyond it using the Force. No one was nearby. The abandoned room of the reserve arsenal on the other side was clearly unused, and the entrance to the tunnel was blocked by a wall. This meant he could carefully clear the passage without fear of being discovered.
Clearing several tons of stones, even with the application of the Force, took almost half an hour. The wall blocking the passage had to be partially dismantled. However, the effort was worth it. After nearly four thousand years, Revan—the fallen Knight, the Dark Lord who returned to the Light—once again stepped under the arches of the Jedi Temple.
"Welcome home," the ancient one said with a smile. "Time to find out what it's become."
Emerging from the lower level, Revan immediately realized that the Temple had been thoroughly rebuilt. He didn't recognize the corridors he was in. Previously, ammunition depots and an engineering laboratory were located here... Now, this section looked most like a complex of training halls and meditation rooms.
The internal decoration of the halls and passages was traditionally kept in a strict style with minimal ornamentation. Which, however, did not prevent them from being quite elegant.
Once, Light Side adepts scurried around everywhere here. But now... there was silence. It gave the impression that this wing was not being used at all. Which was quite probable, given the low number of Order members compared to the times of the Old Republic.
Deciding to trust the Force, Revan moved forward in search of the Great Hall. The sentients he passed were a sign that he was on the right path.
After almost half an hour of wandering through monotonous corridors, he reached his goal. Before his eyes was a huge hall with dozens of multi-story columns supporting a vaulted ceiling several stories high.
The scale was astonishing. Although the former Jedi had seen this place in ancient times, finding himself here again, he couldn't take his eyes off the beauty of the surroundings.
"Haven't been home in a while, Knight?" a female voice asked from behind.
Revan turned and saw a young Mirialan with bright blue eyes and a diamond-shaped tattoo pattern on her chin. A welcoming smile played on her face. Her black hair was covered by a traditional headpiece.
"Yes, it's been a long time since I was here," Revan smiled back. "Forgive my disrespect, but I don't know your name."
"Luminara Unduli, Jedi Master," the woman bowed slightly.
"Avner Van, Knight," the ancient one returned the bow, using a name Canderous had invented during their search for the Mandalore's Mask.
"I haven't met you before either, Knight Van," the Mirialan said, looking closely at his face. "However, your face seems vaguely familiar to me."
"I spent a long time in wanderings, trying to find myself," the former Jedi responded without flinching.
Such journeys were not uncommon in ancient times, and he hoped a similar tradition existed in this era.
"Oh, I see," she was slightly surprised. "I didn't think anyone had set off for so long in the last few years."
Revan shrugged with a smile.
"Please forgive me, Master Unduli, but I have pressing matters awaiting me," the former Sith tried to say goodbye.
"May I join you, Knight Van? I would like to hear about your wanderings. It would be useful for my lessons. I teach several classes for younglings twice a week."
Refusing help would not be in the Order's traditions, so Revan had no choice.
"Of course. Although I doubt you'll learn anything new."
"The value of knowledge is unique to every sentient," the young woman noted instructively. "What is boring routine for one is news for another."
"I cannot disagree with such wise words, Master," the ancient one respectfully nodded. "Could you escort me to the archives? I intend to study some supplementary information to better understand what I've experienced."
"Certainly." The Mirialan turned toward the hall's exit and waited for Revan to draw level with her.
This worked to the former Sith's advantage. She would show him the way. He just needed to watch what he said, or he might run into trouble.
"So, Knight Van, where have you been?" Luminara started the conversation.
"Mostly on Dantooine," Revan replied, naming a world well known to him.
"Oh, trying to find the ruins of the ancient enclave?"
'Ruins... so that's what the Jedi enclave on Dantooine has become?' the former Dark Lord thought.
"Yes. But alas," he spread his hands, showing the sad result of his imaginary search.
"And yet another Knight who dared to lift the veil over the past has encountered the relentless flow of time," Unduli said, closing her eyes.
"Exactly so, Master," Revan agreed. "But I was able to take away an important lesson from it."
"And what is that?"
"The past, though important, should not influence the present. I wasted several years on fruitless searches when I could have spent them more usefully."
The Mirialan laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.
"You should definitely attend my classes and tell this to some particularly active younglings," she said with a smile.
"I certainly will," the former Jedi assured her.
By this time, they were passing one of the training halls, the door to which was open. The ancient one couldn't resist glancing inside, drawn by the familiar sounds of an active lightsaber.
In the middle of the spacious room stood a small Zabrak girl, clutching a training blade. Opposite her stood a boy slightly older, clearly showing off, tracing intricate figures around himself with his lightsaber.
"Don't even try, Rina," the boy's voice reached Revan. "I convinced Master Dooku to show me a few Makashi sequences. My defense is impenetrable now."
And as if confirming his words, he swept his blade to the side, described an arc with it, and then finished with a sharp lunge.
The girl predictably missed the thrust and cried out when the training saber poked her arm.
"Ha, I told you!" the boy smirked.
"A simple Half-Moon Dance," Revan said barely audibly, mostly to himself.
"Strange, where is the instructor who should be supervising the training?" Luminara wondered.
"I think they decided to practice by themselves," the former Sith shrugged.
"That can be dangerous."
"One moment," the ancient one interrupted the woman, noticing the boy preparing to attack with the same move again.
The little Zabrak clearly didn't know what to do. She didn't want to lose—Revan distinctly felt this through the Force—but she saw no path to victory.
"Rina, step forward with your left foot, turn your body, and execute a sliding horizontal block," the former Dark Lord commanded loudly.
The girl followed all the instructions precisely, only flinching in surprise, which pleased the ancient one.
Her blade blocked the boy's saber, scraped along the plasma arc, and struck him directly in his unprotected chest.
"I did it!" the Zabrak exclaimed joyfully, deactivating her blade.
"Well done," Revan praised her from the doorway.
"Thank you, Master!" the girl blushed. "Who are you?"
"Avner Van," the former Jedi bowed.
The burgeoning conversation was interrupted by Luminara Unduli.
"Younglings, why are you training unsupervised?" she asked sternly.
"The Masters were busy..." the boy mumbled.
"That's no excuse," the Mirialan cut in. "Return to your rooms and don't repeat such things again!"
"Yes, Master Unduli," the children replied in unison and, placing the training sabers on the racks by the walls, left the room, and Revan and his companion continued down the corridors.
"Are there still too few instructors?" the former Dark Lord broke the silence first.
"Yes," Luminara nodded sadly. "The Ruusan Reformation severely weakened the Order, even if not everyone admits it. We are too few even just to train the next generation. And what will happen next?"
"I dread to guess."
"Everyone dreads it... that's why they don't bring up the conversation," the Mirialan sighed. "And perhaps we won't either."
"As you say."
"You seem to be very knowledgeable about lightsaber combat, I presume? Since you were able to react so quickly?" the young woman changed the topic.
"Yes, I dedicated a lot of time to physical training. The Galaxy is far from the peaceful place its inhabitants want to see it as."
"Indeed so," Unduli agreed.
Suddenly, the ancient one felt a powerful surge of fury and irritation that made him instinctively reach for the hilt of his own saber. The Mirialan merely winced.
"What is that?" Revan asked, subconsciously preparing for a fight.
"Master Windu is training his Vaapad again," Luminara said, rubbing her temples.
"Vaapad?" Revan repeated.
"Yes, it's his own fighting style. Some call it the new Form 7."
Intrigued, the former Sith took a few steps toward the door behind which this torrent of emotions was felt.
"You shouldn't disturb him," the young woman tried to stop him, but curiosity was stronger.
Slightly opening the door, Revan saw a dark-skinned Korun wielding a purple lightsaber with furious speed. Lunges and swings alternated with somersaults, flips, and other acrobatic elements. The man was clearly using his emotions to enhance his body and will, which was characteristic of the Form 7, Juyo.
However, the chaos unfolding in the room, in Revan's opinion, had nothing in common with Juyo.
'How... crude and clumsy,' the ancient one thought. 'Like a child, frustrated by a broken toy and swinging a stick, hoping to punish everything and everyone for its "grief".'
"Mesmerizing, isn't it?" the Mirialan whispered.
"Uh-huh," Revan grunted, more repulsed than fascinated by the sight.
'Did he try to reconstruct Juyo from descriptions and eyewitness accounts?' the former Sith, who was a Master of the Form 7, mused mentally. 'To use emotions so thoughtlessly... to come so close to the Dark Side... And this is a Master of the Order?'
He himself remembered perfectly well how much time he had spent just preparing to master Juyo. How he trained to "walk the edge," to moderate his emotions so that he would always be at the peak of his form without crossing the line.
But what the Korun was doing... It was as if he couldn't take control of his mind. Emotions burst out in waves, as if this Master let go of them for a moment, but then completely suppressed them, fearing the Dark Side. Such surges, although partially effective, too strongly destabilized the psyche. Revan wouldn't be surprised to learn that this Korun had an overly fiery temper and suffered from bursts of anger.
"We should go on and not distract Master Windu," Luminara reminded him.
"Yes, of course," Revan agreed.
As they walked through the corridors towards the archives, only one thought swirled in the ancient one's mind: 'What has the Order become?'