The Dawn's Eagle sliced through hyperspace, rapidly putting distance between itself and the cursed capital of the ancient Sith Empire. Revan had given the order to leave the planet and return to Republic space as quickly as possible the moment he stepped aboard.
The master could feel how difficult it was for his apprentices. The Dark Side suppressed the mind, seeking to lure, seduce… subjugate. And while Maul could still offer some resistance to Dromund Kaas's influence, Anakin, having barely begun his training, proved far more vulnerable.
While still requesting evacuation from the Citadel, Revan had checked with HK on Skywalker's condition. The assassin droid readily informed the Master that the annoying meatbag had been deactivated… for medical purposes, thankfully not permanently.
Revan postponed clarifying the details for later. Right now, the most important thing was to shake off the Dark Side's influence. Naturally, HK hastened to execute the Master's will, mentioning the "gift" in the cargo hold only in passing.
The former Jedi knew his creation too well to let that slip pass unnoticed.
"Hmm…" Revan uttered meaningfully, examining the bound man in the singed robe.
The prisoner was tied with an induction cable, which was problematic to cut even with a vibroknife. However, such measures were excessive, as the poor wretch's shoulders and knees had been damaged by blaster fire. HK never underestimated an opponent. To neutralize meant to neutralize… completely… and with a guarantee.
"Your droid has an interesting hobby," Tira evaluated the knots. "They say there's an establishment on Coruscant's three hundred and twenty-fifth sublevel where such talents are in high demand."
Revan ignored the mercenary's words, assessing how much of his mask was covered by his palm as it once again met the visor, obeying the master's momentary impulse.
"HK," Revan summoned the culprit of the surprise via intercom.
"Eager affirmation: Yes, Master!" the droid responded cheerfully.
"For the sake of all who have passed into the Force, who do we have in the cargo hold?"
"Joyful explanation: Master, that is a prisoner captured on Dromund Kaas during the attempt to abduct the small meatbag."
"What?"
"Additional clarification: After your departure, the small meatbag designated Skywalker displayed his characteristic stupidity and deceptively left the Dawn's Eagle. I immediately commenced pursuit," HK added in a slightly irritated tone. "The protected subject was attacked by a swarm of mynocks; however, I managed to quickly eliminate the threat…"
"Skip to the part where you encountered the prisoner," Revan interrupted the droid's verbosity.
"Indignant acquiescence: As you wish, Master," HK grumbled. "Upon returning to the Eagle, we were attacked by a group of unknowns employing Force techniques. Parameters corresponded to influence types known as Force Cloak, Telekinesis, and Force Lightning."
"Nasty combination," Nomad assessed, based on her experience fighting Force-users.
"Combat report: Two attackers liquidated, one more neutralized and captured for subsequent interrogation. Ammunition expenditure moderate. Two MMX-14 flash-bang grenades and two MDF-51 defensive fragmentation grenades expended."
As much as Revan wanted to find a reason for indignation, he couldn't help but note the assassin droid's efficiency. Defeating three Force-users at once, no matter how well-trained, was not something every gunman could handle. HK proved once again that Revan hadn't wasted his time and effort creating an effective hunter-killer capable of handling even a Sith… or a Jedi.
"Did they say anything during the fight?" Revan decided to clarify.
"Negative response: No, Master," the droid replied. "Observation: However, judging by their behavior, I would say the target of the attack was Skywalker."
"Capture or liquidation?" Nomad interjected.
"HK?" Revan intended to ask the same question, but the mercenary beat him to it.
"Conjecture: Based on the enemy's actions, it can be concluded that the small meatbag was needed alive."
"Capture, then," Tira summarized.
"Confirmed," the assassin droid agreed.
Given that this took place on Dromund Kaas, Revan had a guess as to who had dared attack his apprentice. Scourge had warned of strange fanatics settling in the ruins of the Dark Temple. Some Prophets.
Well, perhaps leaving the planet was a hasty decision, the former Jedi thought. But what's done is done.
An interrogation could provide some answers to the questions that had arisen for Revan after his conversation with his old acquaintance. specifically, who led the organization and what its goals were. Not to mention that Scourge had somehow forgotten to mention that the Prophets needed Anakin for some reason.
"HK, after completing the jump, set course for the nearest HoloNet relay buoy. I need to send an encrypted message. I'll transmit the recipient's coordinates to you," Revan ordered.
"Eager compliance: I obey, Master."
The former Jedi closed the intercom channel, allowing the droid to return to piloting.
"Who did you decide to write to?" the mercenary inquired.
The last thing she expected to find on the ship upon return was a prisoner. But the mad droid managed to surprise her again.
"An old acquaintance," Revan replied vaguely.
"Secrets again?" the Mandalorian snorted discontentedly.
"This isn't just my secret, Tira," the former Sith shook his head.
"Whatever you say," the girl shrugged. "You haven't forgotten that you still owe me?"
"I remember."
"Even though I'm Chiss, patience has never been my strong suit."
"Like all Mandalorians," Revan commented with a smile hidden beneath his mask.
"And when will you address my issue?"
"Soon."
"Bad answer," Nomad nearly growled.
"I don't have another one," Revan replied calmly, turning to the mercenary. "But I never break a word once given. I will help you find the Mandalore's Mask. Especially since I will obviously need the help of Mandalorians… true Mandalorians."
For a few seconds, Tira peered into the visor of her interlocutor's mask, as if trying to see his eyes and verify the words of the one whose help she so desperately needed.
Doubts about the correctness of the decision to join Revan receded with every heartbeat. The mere presence of the former Jedi inspired confidence. Perhaps that was why Mandalore the Preserver himself had gone with him back in the day? Moreover, if the legends of Clan Ordo were to be believed, Mandalore killed his own wife when she decided to go against Revan. Of course, that was just a legend based on rumors and speculation, but right now, for some reason, she wanted to believe it.
She wanted to believe Revan… Believe his words… Believe in him.
"I believe you," Tira said with a slight nod, fighting the urge to look away and shamefully retreat from the cargo hold in an attempt to shake off the strange spell.
This was a first for Nomad. And it was unsettling.
"Thank you," Revan answered sincerely.
The mercenary shook her head, driving away unbidden thoughts and restoring her professional demeanor.
"Need help with the interrogation?" she indicated the prisoner with a nod.
"No, thank you," Revan shook his head. "HK battered him pretty badly, so resistance will be weak."
"Not everyone can be broken by pain…"
"Who said anything about pain?" the former Sith chuckled.
Something in Revan's words made the mercenary instinctively reach for her blaster holster. Coldness and threat. Tira had not yet known this side of her companion.
"What happens to him afterward?" the girl asked without interest, more to simply change the subject.
"Freedom," Revan shrugged.
"He could have heard our conversation," Nomad reminded him, clearly hinting at the information about the former Jedi's plans to help restore the Mandalorian people's former glory.
"Don't worry about that," Revan dismissed it. "The truly free are not interested in worldly affairs."
The hint was quite clear. During one of their evening conversations, which occurred more and more frequently, Revan had once told Tira about an aspect of Sith philosophy related to freedom.
According to him, true freedom was impossible to achieve in life. The living would always be "fettered" by morality, obligations, aspirations, thirst, and sometimes simply by their own minds. Only after death and unity with the Force could one know true freedom. This was stated in the final line of the Sith Code. Revan found it amusing that this line echoed the final tenet of the Jedi Code so clearly. Both organizations were much more alike than their members admitted.
So Revan's words about freedom could be interpreted extremely simply—the prisoner would not remain among the living.
Nodding once more to confirm she understood the hint, the mercenary left the cargo hold, leaving the former Sith alone with the one unlucky enough to be his enemy. And Revan considered him exactly that—an enemy. No one is allowed to attack his apprentices with impunity.
Thoughtfully tilting his head to the side, the former Jedi slowly circled the unconscious prisoner.
Concentrating the Force on the opponent's mind, Revan yanked the wounded man's consciousness from oblivion, bringing the poor wretch to his senses.
The prisoner's eyes snapped open, and he sucked in air convulsively. His entire body responded with pain, but no scream tore from his throat. Instead, a strained wheeze echoed through the cargo hold.
"I'm not in the mood to listen to your screaming," Revan said in an icy tone, slightly tightening the fingers of his right hand as if holding the prisoner by the throat.
Essentially, that was the case, except the Force held the prisoner, but Revan controlled its actions.
The prisoner twitched in the grip, coughed, spat, and gasped for air convulsively, but could do nothing.
At first, the former Jedi was even surprised by how easily he broke through this Dark Side adept's defenses, but he quickly guessed the reason. The prisoner was used to operating in conditions of high Darkness concentration, typical of Dromund Kaas. Whereas Revan had spent most of his life wandering and was far more skilled in manipulating the Force.
The prisoner's deplorable physical condition didn't make the task any easier. Concentrating when you are wounded is very difficult. Unless, of course, you are accustomed to pain like Scourge, or a unique case like Sion.
"Now you will answer my questions," Revan said, standing opposite the prisoner. "And I recommend you don't even try to lie or resist."
The former Sith's words were accompanied by the pressure of the Force, breaking into the interlocutor's consciousness, weakening the desire to fight, suppressing the will, breaking the mind.
The captive man wheezed in a strangled manner and nodded.
"Who are you?" Revan asked the first question, sensing the prisoner was ready to talk.
"Darnell… Tal," the poor wretch croaked when his executioner loosened the grip, allowing him to breathe.
"I don't need a name," Revan dismissed it. "I asked, who are you? Whom do you serve?"
"The Prophet… Kadann." These words seemed to give the prisoner strength, as he spoke much more vigorously. "We are Prophets of the Dark Side and…"
"Less propaganda," Revan squeezed Darnell's throat again, sensing he was about to recite a rehearsed speech brainwashed into their cult members. "Why did you need the boy?"
"Kadann… saw his… fate," Tal spoke jerkily again. "Destiny… And the power he will possess."
Revan increased the Force pressure on the prisoner's mind, forcing it to unconsciously search memory for all details regarding Anakin and Kadann's orders.
"The Prophet found a vergence in the Force. Predicted the rise of Darkness," Darnell continued. "He holds the key to the order's ascension."
"How is Sidious connected to you?" Revan asked a new question.
"He thinks we serve him," Tal wheezed in response. "But Kadann only uses him to get to the Chosen One."
Mentally, Revan chuckled. Apparently, all Dark Side adepts were distinguished by a penchant for betrayal. Regardless of affiliation with the Sith. However, playing with Sidious was foolish. Based on what Revan already knew about this dark one, he was very good at weaving webs of lies and betrayal. After all, the scale of the plan, hints of which Sidious had quite deftly dropped during their brief conversation, commanded respect. And Scourge had warned him to be careful with this apprentice of Plagueis.
To believe that he could be outwitted by these fanatics? Don't make me laugh. More likely, he is leading them by the nose. But why would he get involved with the Prophets at all?
"What does Sidious want from you?" Revan pressed.
"The future," the prisoner croaked.
"Elaborate."
"We see the future."
Now that was interesting. If the Prophets truly possessed the gift of foresight and had learned to predict the future using the Dark Side, the benefit for someone planning to take over the entire galaxy became obvious.
It would be worth questioning Scourge in more detail.
It was a pity none of the Claws could be sent to Dromund Kaas for infiltration. Unfortunately, there were no Force-users among the informants.
"Who ordered the attack on the boy?" came the new question.
"Kadann…"
"Was it his initiative or Sidious's order?"
"Kadann… himself…"
The prisoner was weakening. Wounds and interrogation were taking their toll. There wasn't as much time as Revan would have liked, but he couldn't stop. The prisoner might not survive until a new session or, worse, close his mind.
"Who summoned me to Dromund Kaas?" Revan decided to verify Scourge's words.
"I don't know… you…"
The former Jedi cursed mentally. Still, learning something the information source doesn't know is a priori impossible.
"Can the Prophets transmit visions to other Force-users?" Revan approached from another angle.
"Yes."
"When did Sidious last contact you?"
"I don't know… With him… only… Kadann…" A trickle of blood flowed from the man's nose.
There was only time for a few more questions. The trouble was that the prisoner knew extremely little.
"How many of you are there in total?"
"I… am the only one… left," the prisoner croaked.
Tal's mind began to slip into the fog of oblivion again. Revan had to increase the pressure.
"How many Prophets in total?"
"Hundreds…"
Darnell's eyes rolled back, and he breathed his last.
"Hutt!" Revan released his grip with irritation, allowing the lifeless body to fall to the floor.
There was too little information to form a reliable picture of the organization as a whole. It was becoming clear that the Prophets were playing their own game, trying to fool Sidious. It was unknown whether Plagueis was involved here and what role Scourge played in all this, whose slips of the tongue made it clear that the Pureblood Sith had his own designs on the Prophets.
Another headache was added to Revan's already considerable list of problems. However, solving this puzzle could wait.
The former Jedi extracted the datacron pyramid from his pouch.
Right now, Revan held a far more intriguing riddle in his hands.
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