Near the closed doors of the throne room, leaning back against the stone wall and nervously toying with the power cell of a blaster carbine, sat a young woman in Mandalorian armor.
Revan had disappeared behind those doors more than an hour ago, and there had been no word from him since. Given the general feeling of being in this grim Citadel, this did nothing to calm Tira Nomad's nerves.
The young woman shifted her gaze to the unconscious body of the Zabrak lying just two steps away from her. Maul was bound, and for good measure, Tira had injected Revan's apprentice with a sedative. She had no desire to subdue a maddened Force user, simply because she didn't know any way to do so without killing him.
"Where in the name of the Hutts are you?" Nomad asked the empty air, already considering returning to the ship alone.
Beside her, the astromech droid beeped sympathetically. It wasn't thrilled about being stuck in the stone trap of an ancient Citadel without access to local computer networks, either. R2 was a fine mechanic, but not a combat droid.
"Any ideas on what we should do?" Nomad inquired.
"Dwoo-ooo-ooo," the astromech drawled dejectedly.
"If only I knew what that meant," Tira chuckled, leaning the back of her head against the wall. "We wait one more hour, then we leave."
Meanwhile, Revan was absorbing the information Scourge had shared with him. As it turned out, the Sith had been closely monitoring the actions of the Republic, the Jedi, and the new adepts of the Dark Side. Yes, Scourge refused to call this new generation of "dark ones" Sith, considering them too limited and flawed. He called Bane's Rule of Two foolishness, a mistake that had led to such a pitiful state for the followers of Darkness.
In his time, Scourge had had a chance to stop Bane, but the Sith had hesitated to act. He waited for Revan's return, which had been promised to him in visions. Interfering in even a single event could have erased everything. The Pureblood had no intention of risking it. Certainly not for the degenerates who had gathered in the new Dark Council.
Scourge knew much. And Revan wanted to ask about even more.
"So you know who brought me back to the world of the living?" the former Jedi asked, seizing on the Sith's slip about Dark Side adepts operating from the shadows.
"I have suspicions," Scourge nodded.
"Care to share?"
The Sith thought for a moment, then nodded again.
"Forgive me, I may confuse dates, as over the years my sense of time has worsened. Days, weeks, months, or even entire decades… Sometimes it is hard for me to distinguish one from another."
"Go on," Revan nodded understandingly.
"During one of my visits to Korriban, not too long ago, I believe, I felt the presence of another living Force-user in the Valley of the Dark Lords. The fact itself was not surprising; after all, many Dark Side adepts visit that desolate world sooner or later. However, something compelled me to follow the stranger. Specifically, his attempts to summon the spirits of deceased Lords for dialogue."
"He came to Korriban to commune with Force Ghosts?" Revan was surprised.
The former Jedi remembered his own experience meeting such entities. The ancient Sith Lords lost none of their power… or arrogance, even after death. Addressing such beings with a question meant being prepared to pay the highest price for an answer—one's life.
"Precisely so, Master," Scourge nodded again. "He intended to demand answers from the Ancients. And naturally, he was ignored."
"He was lucky," Revan chuckled.
"Not quite," the Sith shook his head. "One did answer."
"Who?"
"Marka Ragnos," the Pureblood smiled as he spoke his kin's name.
The former Jedi shook his head. Of all the Lords of Korriban, that was the one he would least want to encounter. Ragnos's volatile temper was well known to anyone who had even superficially studied Sith history.
"Did he at least survive?" Revan decided to clarify.
"Strangely enough, yes," Scourge replied. "And he even managed to leave the planet. However, he received no answers to his questions."
"Who was it?"
"A Muun who called himself Darth Plagueis."
"Plagueis?" Revan repeated. "A familiar name."
"You met his apprentice, Sidious."
"So that's how it is." The former Jedi crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed the "chin" of his mask with his thumb. "But how is he connected to my resurrection?"
Scourge gestured for silence, then continued his story.
"Rumors reached me of a certain Tenebrous who set out to achieve immortality and play with the very essence of the Force, namely with midi-chlorians. Until that day, I thought it was just someone's joke. However, reality turned out to be much more interesting," the Sith chuckled. "I managed to follow Plagueis to his ship, where I found several very interesting recordings."
"And you weren't detected?" Revan clarified, finding it hard to believe that a Force user unafraid to appear on Korriban was blind enough not to notice he was being followed.
"I spent a very long time on Korriban and studied that world well. If I wish, I can ensure that even from close range, no one can distinguish my presence from the natural flow of the Force on the planet."
Revan nodded knowingly. Force Cloak, albeit in a modified version.
"So what did you find out?"
"I found out that Plagueis was Tenebrous's apprentice and recently disposed of his master," Scourge replied. "However, like his teacher, the Muun decided to continue his work, seeking the path to immortality."
"And he decided the key lies in manipulating midi-chlorians?"
"Yes."
"Fool," snorted Surik, who was still standing nearby.
"Oh, he is anything but a fool," Scourge chuckled. "Only Vitiate… or Andeddu advanced further than him in matters of immortality. But the latter failed to achieve immortality per se. Or rather, the immortality of the physical shell, as he took a different path. Plagueis wants power over life and death."
"Absolute power," Revan said thoughtfully.
He was well acquainted with the Sith drive for power. It is an integral part of the philosophy of the Dark Side… A line enshrined in the Code of the Sith.
"Precisely so," Scourge agreed. "What better demonstrates acquired power than dominion over life and death?"
"It is unnatural," Meetra shook her head. "No one should possess such power. The cycle of life and death must not be broken."
"Says the ghost," the Sith chuckled.
Surik made a displeased face. Scourge was right; it was not for her, having already left the mortal world, to judge such things.
"We are all born of the Force and return to it after the death of the physical shell," Revan ended the dispute. "Nothing can prevent this. One can only delay the inevitable."
"Truly so," Scourge nodded. "The example of Vitiate, Andeddu, Sion, and others clearly demonstrates the futility of any attempts. No matter how strong a Force-user is, their mortal path will end."
"Says the four-thousand-year-old Sith," Meetra returned the jab.
"Truly so," the Pureblood smiled.
Revan mirrored the Sith's smile. It had been a long time since he felt like this. This ease with which the conversation of old… friends, probably, flowed. Yes, the former Jedi missed this kind of interaction. Without name swapping, without long explanations of the essence, without masks and intrigues. The three in the throne room understood each other perfectly, for they came from the same era, albeit by different paths.
"So, you say Plagueis experiments with midi-chlorians, like his master?" Revan steered the conversation back to the original topic.
"Yes," Scourge nodded. "In his recordings, I found mentions of his attempts to bring a dead man back to life."
At these words, Revan tensed and became all ears.
"How far did he get?" the former Jedi clarified.
"You are here, isn't that an indicator?" the Sith chuckled.
"There is no proof that it was he who brought me back to life," Revan shook his head.
The former Jedi did not clarify that, although vaguely, he remembered the day of his return. And the ritual, conducted by the now-identified Darth Plagueis, was merely a catalyst. Something else brought him into the world of the living. Perhaps, the Force itself.
"He learned of your return extremely quickly, and coincidentally, this Muun hastily wrapped up his experiments and hid somewhere on Muunilinst. So the conclusions draw themselves."
However, Meetra caught a different meaning in Revan's words than a simple question.
"You're looking for a way to bring her back, aren't you?" she asked her old friend directly.
The former Jedi and General of the Republic didn't think to deny it.
"Yes," he answered briefly and firmly.
"The task may prove impossible," Surik shook her head. "And is this really the time to be distracted?"
"As long as she is not here, I cannot think of anything else," Revan smiled sadly.
Scourge, who initially hadn't caught the gist, quickly guessed what they were talking about.
"You speak of the one whose image was used to try and lure you here, correct?"
Revan nodded.
"My friend," Meetra placed a translucent hand on the former Jedi's shoulder, "I understand your pain and desire to reclaim what was lost perfectly well… but there are things beyond the power of even the mightiest among us."
"And yet, I died four thousand years ago." Revan looked into Surik's eyes. "And I am alive again. Now try telling me again that such a thing is impossible."
Silence reigned.
Meetra found no words to counter her old friend and mentor. He was right. Even if it was an isolated case, the fact remained a fact. A Force-user could return.
"Nothing is impossible for the Force. I think you know this perfectly well yourself," Scourge was the first to break the silence. "Though I could not fathom its mysteries as deeply, in my long life I have seen too many miracles to doubt."
"In your memory, was there anyone at all who managed to replicate something like this?" Revan asked without much hope.
"There was," Scourge nodded.
"Say again?" the former Jedi asked.
"I have encountered the resurrected," the Sith confirmed his words.
"When? Who was it?" Revan became alert.
"One I only heard about from the tales of Empire scouts who monitored the Republic even before your capture."
Here, Meetra perked up.
"You don't mean Him, do you?" the girl's ghost frowned.
"Darth Sion," Scourge nodded, confirming Surik's guess.
"Who is he? Although… wait… I remember that name," Revan strained his memory. "He joined my Empire… The living corpse, as Malak nicknamed him."
"Not just living," Meetra hissed through her teeth. "Essentially, he never died. That monster couldn't be killed! I personally sent him to the next world four times! But he simply refused to die!"
"How?" Revan was wary.
In the former Jedi's memory, there were only fragments of recollections about meeting Sion. The strange sensation that arose in his presence. Like a crushing pain in the chest, but without any damage. As if an echo of suffering in the Force. That was why Revan tried not to meet with this… creature. Malak gave him orders. What became of Sion after the collapse of the Empire, the former Jedi did not know.
"That resourceful young man possessed a remarkable talent," Scourge answered instead of Meetra. "He could focus on the pain of his wounds, feeding his hatred and calling upon the Dark Side for aid. The Force would not let him die, even from fatal wounds."
"When we met for the last time, he barely resembled a living human. More like a shattered clay figurine glued back together, but missing pieces. Grey skin, pitted with open but not bleeding wounds, and one eye nothing but a white wall-eye," Surik grimaced. "He even survived the explosion of a spaceship while on board. A true monster."
"How did you manage to stop him?" Revan asked the question that interested him.
"Convinced him to stop clinging to life," Meetra shrugged.
"Just like that?" the former Jedi was surprised.
"By no means just like that," Surik shook her head. "As I said, I had to bring him to a state where he couldn't continue the fight several times. Only then could I make him listen."
"When you live as long as he did, the thought of the end creeps into your mind on its own. One only has to nudge the consciousness toward it," Scourge said sadly.
Revan shifted his gaze to the Sith.
"He reminds you of yourself, right?" the former Jedi guessed.
The Pureblood thought for a second and shook his head.
"Not quite," Scourge replied. "My pain was a consequence of immortality. A side effect of a cursed ritual. His was the root cause of life in defiance of death."
Revan nodded thoughtfully, accepting the answer.
"But we are also kindred in the experience of years lived," the Sith added. "Did you know Sion participated in Exar Kun's rebellion?"
"No," the former Jedi shook his head. "But if you think about it, compared to you, he didn't live all that long."
"And we both made the wrong choice when deciding whose side to take."
The silence that hung again was broken this time by Revan.
"Who was the second?" he asked. "The one who managed to return? Sion doesn't quite fit that description."
Scourge smiled mysteriously.
"He is well known to you, too."
Revan recoiled and took a step back, guessing whom Scourge meant.
"He survived?!"
"The Emperor is not so easily killed; you know this better than anyone," the Sith nodded.
"How?!"
"If only I knew," the Pureblood drawled vaguely. "We dealt with him together with the Hero of Tython. Vitiate was dead. But some part of him evidently survived. Time and again he transferred from body to body, returning to life, until finally he acquired a permanent vessel. Taking the name Valkorion, he declared himself Emperor once more, but no longer counted himself among the Sith. Ruler of the Eternal Empire, Valkorion unleashed a war against both the Republic and the Sith Empire simultaneously."
"Ambitious," Revan huffed. "And foolish. A war on two fronts is too costly and lost in advance, because even in the event of victory, the state will be too exhausted to maintain order. Rebellions of the discontented will tear the country apart, and the government will face civil war and inevitably be overthrown… or destroy itself."
"Precisely so," Scourge agreed. "But the Emperor was too vain and arrogant."
"Power and immortality turned his head," Meetra remarked. "And that fancy name? The Eternal Empire?"
"Very similar to the Infinite Empire of the Rakata," Revan agreed. "We all remember how that ended last time."
"The Eternal Empire suffered the same fate," the Sith continued. "Valkorion fell by the hand of his own son. And his Empire was torn apart by the united Republicans and Sith."
"And yet he perished," Revan noted with a smile.
"Regarding Vitiate's death, one should never speak with certainty," Scourge shook his head. "He returned once. He could return again."
Revan found nothing to counter that. He knew the Emperor personally, fought against him, was connected to his mind for three hundred years. If anyone understood the depth of Scourge's words about Vitiate, it was Revan.
And yet, despite his hatred for the ancient enemy, the former Jedi understood that his experience was the best thread that could lead to understanding immortality. Unraveling another mystery of the Force. This offered a chance that there was a real possibility of bringing back to life someone who had already merged with the Force. Which meant, there was a chance for Bastila's return.
"I must know how he managed to return," Revan stated confidently, raising his gaze to Scourge.
Fragments of the knowledge Vitiate possessed flitted through the former Jedi's memory. During three hundred years of their struggle, Revan had managed to adopt part of his opponent's experience, allowing him to understand the Force even more deeply. And perhaps, it led to Revan's consciousness splitting in two, causing him to nearly bring the Emperor back to life himself. However, the former Jedi remembered almost nothing of those events. The memory of the second persona seemed not to belong to him and thus dissolved almost without a trace in the currents of the Force.
Meanwhile, Scourge pondered Revan's words. In the end, the Pureblood Sith himself had once asked these questions. How did Vitiate manage to return? What exactly did he do to Scourge? Where did he glean this knowledge?
And Scourge had made some progress. But he could never figure it out over all the years. He was a warrior, not a scholar. And even thousands upon thousands of hours studying Vitiate and Valkorion's few records could not give him the main thing—understanding.
A different mindset was required here. And perhaps Revan possessed just that.
The Sith extracted a small pyramid from a hidden pocket of his armor, one that easily fit in the palm of a hand.
"Take it," Scourge extended the device to Revan.
Revan looked with surprise at the object in the Sith's palm. Initially, the former Jedi thought it was a holocron, but he felt no response in the Force.
"A datacron?" he clarified.
"Yes," the Sith nodded. "I lacked the knowledge to create a fully-fledged holocron, but I gathered all the information known to me about Vitiate's rituals in this storage device. Perhaps you will manage to understand more."
Revan took the pyramid from Scourge's hands and, turning it slightly in his palm, activated it. The built-in projector created a small holoscreen above the pyramid's apex, displaying several text records, over which Revan ran a cursory glance, noting several points that interested him.
Symbols I encountered at the Trayus Academy, the former Jedi noted mentally. And this is in Mando'a? Interesting.
The datacron contained a lot of information, but at first glance, it wasn't structured, and in some places, it resembled a retelling of unconfirmed rumors and legends. It required careful study to understand where to move next. But this was already the first step.
"Thank you," Revan thanked sincerely, bowing slightly to Scourge.
"The opportunity to help you is an honor for me, Master," the Sith responded, bowing much deeper in return.
"Just promise me something, Revan," Meetra reminded him of her presence again.
"What?"
"You won't let this knowledge drive you mad," Surik said grimly. "Scourge's periodic breakdowns are enough for me."
"You supported me for three hundred years. Then looked after Scourge for another four thousand. Convinced an immortal to die voluntarily," the former Jedi began listing.
"And I'm tired of constantly setting your brains straight," Surik snorted.
"With such experience," Revan chuckled, "I couldn't find a better psychologist."
"Ha-ha-ha," Meetra laughed feignedly. "Resurrection hasn't done your sense of humor any favors."
"Nor yours," Revan parried.
"So I haven't resurrected," the girl smirked, demonstratively waving her translucent hand.
Releasing the tension through this light banter, Revan thanked his old acquaintances again for the priceless gift that gave him a chance to return a long-lost treasure.
"Just be careful," Meetra asked again. "Ancient rituals and Sith alchemy… It's all the Dark Side."
"Maybe no one simply tried using them differently," Revan smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry, I'll handle it. I'm no stranger to the Dark Side, and I know its tricks very well."
"I hope so," Surik sent a smile in return. "I wouldn't want to gather half the galaxy's Force-users again to stop you."
"Again?"
"Forget it, that was only part of you."
Revan nodded thoughtfully, assuming Meetra was speaking of those events almost erased from his memory.
"And don't forget my request," Scourge reminded. "Or rather, don't forget the threat that will soon come to the galaxy. Whether you want it or not, it will touch everyone. And you won't have time for a happy family life."
This hint made Revan frown again.
"As I said, in my current position, there is little I can do," the former Jedi replied. "I have no army or fleet behind me. There is no Empire or Star Forge anymore. Although… you said something about me not knowing everything? What did you mean?"
"You have more than you think," Scourge smirked.
"For example?"
"Are you not behind the Blood Claws, whose informants suddenly appeared all over the galaxy? Connected to the Hutt Cartel and even crushed the Black Sun on Coruscant under your heel?"
"Where do you get so much information about me?" Revan wasn't wary, but rather surprised.
"As I said, the Force sends me visions of what needs attention," the Sith smiled slyly. "And I've managed to cultivate connections over four thousand years, no matter how hard I tried to hide. What can you do, a Sith cannot sit idle. Especially not without monitoring the events around him."
"Intrigue is in your blood," Revan huffed.
"Truly so," the Pureblood grinned.
"In any case, the Claws are merely a means of gathering information and, perhaps, in the future will become a tool for subtle manipulations in the political sphere. But they don't amount to real power. The Cartel will crush them in a day if necessary," Revan reasoned aloud. "By your own words, we face a fight. And the galaxy must be prepared for a physical, not ideological, confrontation."
"That is so," the Sith agreed.
"Then I will need an army," Revan spread his hands. "A real army, trained soldiers and officers, equipment, a fleet… It will take years to build all this and train personnel. I don't even want to think about the costs. I don't have such funds, and they are unlikely to appear in the next decade."
"Why build what is already built?" the Pureblood noted.
"Are you suggesting creating some kind of galactic alliance? From whom? Worlds ready to secede from the Republic?" Revan surmised. "I assume that is exactly how Sidious plans to act, judging by his slips of the tongue, correct?"
"Insight has always been your strong suit," Scourge nodded. "But I do not suggest you join him. I suggest acting as a third party."
The former Jedi shook his head.
"Even if I had the desire to get involved in a brewing conflict, creating a union from what remains? Are you serious?" Revan tilted his head slightly in a questioning gesture. "Have you seen their armies? Even what the Republic has evokes only laughter! Against the background of these old tubs, even a Hammerhead from my era looks far more advanced! And an Interdictor or Centurion could just be brought into Coruscant orbit immediately to lay claim to the planet."
"You exaggerate," Surik objected, snorting with laughter. "It's not that bad."
"The Republic, judging by the archives, hasn't participated in major wars for quite a long time. technological development seems to have stalled. The army is abolished; only the Judicial Forces have a more or less combat-ready fleet," Revan continued. "No wonder the Trade Federation staged a full-scale blockade of Naboo. Who did they have to fear?"
"Revan," Meetra tried to calm her friend.
"It took them one ship to seize an entire planet that is part of the Republic!" Revan was indignant. "One! Just one TRADE vessel, dammit! And how did the Senate react? Surprise! They didn't!"
Feeling himself getting more and more worked up, the former Jedi exhaled and continued in a much calmer tone.
"It's just like back then, Meetra," he shook his head. "The Republic is on the threshold of war, but everyone stubbornly ignores this fact. A repetition of the Mandalorian Wars awaits them, the lesson of which, apparently, they managed to forget."
"So maybe it's worth reminding them?" Scourge suggested.
"Not funny," Revan dismissed it. "Stand and watch millions of innocents die? Or worse, lead this genocide?"
"But diplomacy can be used too," Surik reminded.
"A diplomat who doesn't have an army behind him or anything valuable that cannot be taken by force will simply be ignored," the former head of an entire Empire shook his head. "You can't just walk onto the political arena. It is also a battlefield, only everyone hides their weapons behind pretty words and fake smiles, and strikes exclusively on the sly and in the back."
"Turns out, there is no other way but conflict," Scourge concluded without a shadow of a smile.
"Don't play with me, Scourge," Revan warned in an icy voice. "You're trying to drag me where I didn't even intend to poke my nose. What goals are you pursuing? Whose will are you executing?"
The Sith's eyes flared with a crimson flash.
"I haven't served anyone for many years," he almost growled in response. "Only the Force is my judge, and I care for its welfare."
"And yet you are perfectly informed about the situation in the galaxy, know Sidious's plans, know who resurrected me, offer to participate in a galactic war, and keep beating around the bush, hiding behind vague hints," Revan said accusingly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Stop acting like a Sith. After all your words about 'honor,' 'master,' and the rest, I deserve honest treatment. The truth."
For several seconds, Scourge and Revan drilled into each other with their gazes, until the Pureblood finally closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
"You are right," he nodded. "I apologize. In my long life, I evidently forgot how to communicate with friends. If I ever knew how. Sith are not taught openness, as you know yourself."
"I know, and that is why I ask you simply to answer the question directly," Revan nodded. "What do you want from me? Why did you summon me here?"
"I want you to save this world. So that the Force may continue its existence. So that I may find peace."
"Riddles again," the former Jedi snorted.
"I cannot explain it otherwise," Scourge shook his head.
"And what kind of trust can we talk about then?"
The Sith did not answer.
"But you trust me, don't you?" Meetra stood up for the Pureblood. "I never let you down in life. There is no reason for me to do so now."
Revan didn't know what to answer to that. Everything would be much simpler if this were just a delusion, a mirage, or an echo in the Force, but no… The ghost of Meetra Surik was real. And there was nothing to counter her words. She followed him to war against the Council's will. She followed his orders unquestioningly. She saved him from a fate worse than death more than once. She and Alek were his most devoted companions and close friends. If anyone was dear to Revan besides Bastila, it was these two.
"I trust you, but…" The former Jedi shifted his gaze to Scourge. "Too often has my trust backfired."
Meetra closed her eyes understandingly and nodded.
"I understand, old friend, and I won't demand blind faith in someone you didn't have time to know as well as I did." Surik pointed to the Sith. "But I ask you, don't be hasty. Give him a chance."
"A chance? Everyone deserves a chance," Revan rubbed the visor of his mask wearily.
He wanted to be aboard the Eagle as soon as possible and leave this cursed world.
"Well, I ask for no more," Scourge spoke again.
"But proof of your intentions wouldn't hurt," Revan noted.
The Sith nodded.
"I understand. And you have already received it." The Pureblood pointed to the pyramid Revan was still turning in his hands. "If you wish to be convinced of my intentions, read section 3-17-A9."
Revan nodded, putting the pyramid away in a pouch. Somewhere on the edge of his sensitivity, he caught a faint ripple in the Force, as if a Force-user's life had ended somewhere on the planet. Listening to himself and checking the bond with Anakin and Maul, Revan calmed down a little. Both his apprentices were alive, though not feeling entirely comfortable.
"Well, I suppose we should part ways here," Scourge suggested.
"How do I contact you when… if I decide to risk trusting you?" the former Jedi clarified.
"My communicator code is in the datacron. I rarely leave Dromund Kaas, so you can always find me here."
"And as for me, you need only call," Meetra smiled. "I will answer your summons, wherever you may be."
"Thank you," Revan thanked her sincerely.
"Go in peace, old friend," Surik nodded in return. "And may the Force be with you."
"May the Force be with you," Revan bid farewell, watching as his friend's silhouette dissolved before his eyes. "Scourge… Until we meet again."
"Until we meet again," the Sith nodded solemnly, then turned and disappeared into the shadows at the far end of the throne room.
After standing for a moment longer, staring at the dilapidated throne, Revan pulled the hilt of the lightsaber damaged in the fight with Scourge, which needed a power cell replacement, to himself and left the throne room.
At the exit, Nomad was waiting for him, fully prepared for battle, as clearly evidenced by the blaster carbine aimed at him.
"Cool it, Nomad," Revan raised his hands. "The threat has passed."
"I'll cool it when we're a couple of light-years from this place," the mercenary snorted, lowering the barrel. "What happened in there?"
"A meeting with an old acquaintance," the former Jedi answered vaguely.
"And that's why you look like you decided to dance with a rancor?"
Revan inspected himself as best he could. Indeed, he looked a sight. His right bracer was crushed, there were scorch marks and a lightsaber slash on his chest plate, and his cloak was burned and torn in several places. All the signs of a fierce skirmish were present.
"Reunions with old friends don't always go smoothly," Revan chuckled, running a finger over a melted scratch on his breastplate.
"Tsk, whatever you say," Tira snapped irritably. "Can we get out of here now?"
"The sooner, the better."
"Praise the ancestors," the mercenary responded sarcastically. "You can carry your horned apprentice yourself."
Revan shifted his gaze to the bound Zabrak.
"How is he?"
"Sedated."
"Good call."
"Not my first hunt," Nomad replied with a hint of pride. "Heading back the same way?"
R2, who had been standing silently until now, perked up and readily projected a holographic map with the exit marked.
"No, a swarm of mynocks or something worse could be waiting at the exit," Revan shook his head. "Thanks for the help, R2, but we'll leave another way."
"How, if it's not a secret?" Tira inquired.
"Through the landing pad," the former Jedi explained. "I think it survived. And even if not, the main thing is to get outside somewhere high up. HK can pick us up in the Eagle."
"Should've landed here like that in the first place."
"We weren't sure the Citadel's defenses weren't functional."
"Well then, let's move?"
"Let's go," the former Jedi agreed.
After the meeting with Scourge and Meetra, Revan was deep in thought. There was too much to ponder and accept to simply brush aside or shove into a distant corner of his memory.
A four-thousand-year-old Sith Lord had asked him for help! That fact alone was enough to send anyone into a stupor for a long time. But Revan could not afford blissful inaction. It wasn't in his nature.
Four thousand years ago, he couldn't stand aside and watch the Mandalorians conquer the Republic. He couldn't ignore the Emperor's threat either, setting off for Dromund Kaas the very first time. Perhaps the new identity created by the Council fit so easily onto the former Jedi's shattered consciousness because it aligned with his desire to act?
Revan couldn't give a definitive answer.
Be that as it may, the meeting with old acquaintances had taken a little less than two hours. Scourge had revealed much about what was currently happening in the galaxy; the Sith tried to keep abreast of affairs, after all. However, Revan sensed that the Pureblood had chosen to conceal even more information.
The datacron might provide answers, but for some reason, the former Jedi was certain that instead of answers, only more questions would arise.
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