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renegade-skywalker · 6 years

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Out of the Abyss, Chapter 9

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9: The Powers That Be

After years in exile, ex-Jedi General, Eden Valen continues to clean up after Revan and Malak’s mess of a war, only to find herself forever cursed with their unfinished business. As an ill-fated lead brings her to Tatooine, Eden finds that Revan’s mysterious plans go beyond the Republic, beyond the Outer Rim, and into the utter unknown. (A novelization of The Sith Lords and beyond)

Chapter Summary: Now aboard a stolen Star Forge vessel from the Anchorhead docks, Vale and her crew formally meet their rescuers. Coincidences abound, Vale knows that the Force has something in store for them, but for her most of all.

3951 BBY, Hyperspace

“So, does anyone care to tell me how you managed to pull this off within, what, five minutes of leaving my shop?”

Vale crowded into the cockpit with the others, shoulders and elbows knocking as the engines revved beneath them. The mystery ship was clearly designed to hold one, maybe two people at most. Glitch manned the controls, her tongue held firmly between her lips in concentration. Orex stood over her, scanning the cityscape as it shrunk beneath them.

Vale couldn’t tell if it was the ship taking off or just her nerves, but her stomach dropped the moment she could finally catch her breath for more than a few moments.

“And whose ship is this anyway?”

“That-“ the Twi’lek started, bitter notes of regret and exasperation in her voice, “is a really good question. But I can definitely say it ain’t ours.”

The Wookiee grunted in rueful agreement.

A blue hand traced the ancient hardware, the girl’s face contorting with concern. She turned to face the Wookiee, who could hardly stand among them, let alone with an HK still in tow. His back arched in an unnatural near-mobius curve, clearly suffering for the lack of space.

“We’ll have to make due for now.”

Before elaborating, she looked around, spotting the small cargo bay at the rear of the cockpit and ushered the rest of them inside. There were several small canisters in the adjoining room along with a refresher and a bed built into the far wall. This was definitely a personal vessel.

“You know what this is, right?” Vale asked Darek in a low voice as he ducked into the cargo bay. He nodded, a dark seriousness overcoming his features. Orex would know of the ship’s origins, too, and it didn’t take Vale long to think of a candidate suitable for the role of its potential owner. The answer only became clearer the more she looked around.

There were several small to medium sized crates piled neatly into the corner, taking up little space, but ancient memorabilia filled the rest of the small chamber, notes and diagrams strewn everywhere. Whoever’s ship this was had to be a collector, and maybe they had docked at Anchorhead to find something specific. Speculation mounted in Vale’s mind, but she’d have to save any half-baked conclusions for later, or at least until she got some other answers, first, and let her muscles and lungs recover.

“First thing’s first,” Asra began, standing between the two strangers once they had all filed inside, save for Glitch and Orex. She pointed to the Twi’lek first, and then the Wookiee, “Meet Mission and Zaalbar.”

Mission shot them a shy wave and Zaalbar shrugged as he finally set the HK down.

“Not sure if you still wanted this,” he whimpered apologetically, the trademark Wookiee gruffness still present in his voice.

“Don’t worry about it,” Vale replied, sparing him a small smile.

“I had the pleasure of going into business with Mission’s brother not too long ago, or at least, I almost did. But Mission, here, warned me about the pyramid scheme he was pulling and gave me a better offer.”

Mission extended a hand and Vale shook it. The girl had a surprisingly firm grip and she flashed Vale a friendly grin.

“It’s the least I could do. Griff can be charming, but that doesn’t make him any less of a liar.”

The girl rolled her eyes at the mention of her brother, crossing her arms across her chest after shaking both Vale’s and Darek’s hands.

“If you couldn’t tell, there are more people interested in you than just the seedy sort who’ll turn anything for a credit,” Mission said, “We were only told to get you out of Anchorhead – alive if possible, given the bounty – and bring you to the Republic.”

“If it’s a Jedi they’re after, I’m not sure I’ll be much help.”

Mission shrugged.

“I don’t know much about it, but I agreed to do this as a favor for a friend. Once there was word that you were in the Outer Rim, my friend sent word. Zaalbar and I happened to be en route to pick up a shipment out of Mos Eisley, so you could say we just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

Right.

“Tell me about it,” Asra huffed, “Before word reached us about the bounty, we were about to go looking for the Republic.”

Zaalbar grunted, inquisitive.

“We found some… things. Old stuff, dangerous. We wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands,” Asra explained. “We weren’t sure where else to go.”

Mission looked to Zaalbar, who shrugged back at her.

“Dangerous?”

“Are they any Jedi left? Would your Republic friend know?” Vale asked, her voice low, heavy with unexpected emotion. Vale kept her nose out of Republic business since she was exiled, but after seeing her brother earlier that day, believing him to be dead all these years, she wondered just how much else she wasn’t aware of.

Mission shook her head.

“There are a few,” she replied, looking to Zaalbar as if seeking his approval before continuing, “It’s hard to say. But trust me, this Republic officer you’re about to see? He can help. He’ll answer some questions, I imagine.”

“Some,” Vale muttered under her breath, exasperated.

“Who is this officer, exactly?” Darek asked, nursing a stiff knee as he set himself down on a nearby crate.

“I-“ Mission and Zaalbar exchanged looks again, “We can’t say. We’re sworn to secrecy.”

“Secrecy?”

“What’d I tell ya about the day we were having?” Asra griped. “Speaking of which, about your ship-“

Mission put up a hand to stop her, shaking her head.

“No worries, sister. That thing was a hunka junk, anyway.”

“We never did get that cargo so it’s not like we lost any merch, either,” Zaalbar added, grumbling forlornly despite his concurrence.

“Plus, I’m doing this as a favor. I’m sure a new ship is within my asking power.”

“What happened, exactly, anyway?” Vale turned to Asra now, taking a seat beside Darek herself. It was only now she realized just how exhausted she was and just how much she needed to get straight.

“We ran into these two in the alley, near Czerka. Mission and I recognized each other immediately, and she-“

“Could tell you guys were sneaking around,” Mission interjected, “And it was pretty obvious where you’d come from. Plus, I had a feeling I could trust Asra.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” the Togruta added, dryly. Mission smirked before continuing.

“Not only did we need to make sure you got out of Anchorhead, but we had to make sure you knew where to go. Seems we just helped y’all along.”

Vale had no words, her mind alight with speculation. Asra and Mission continued talking animatedly, explaining how they escaped and what had transpired in the past hour or so. Zaalbar fidgeted with the HK’s remaining parts, ridding the thing of any remnant sand, as Darek put a hand on her shoulder after a considerable silence had fallen over them both.

“You okay?” Darek asked, looking concerned about someone other than Asra for once.

Vale retreated from her thoughts, and felt the ship shudder beneath her. She nodded just as Orex poked his head through the cargo bay door, announcing, “We’ve just entered hyperspace.”

“Did you punch in the coordinates we gave you?” Zaalbar asked with a low growl.

Orex affirmed with a nod and entered the room, Glitch not far behind him.

“What happened?” Darek asked again once a relative silence fell over the cargo bay again. Despite the room’s spall space, his words seemed to echo between its walls, or maybe that was just Vale’s head.

“I saw my brother.”

The words felt alien, wrong, almost. Bile rose in her throat, and it took a moment and considerable effort for Vale to push her disgust and her surprise back down again.

“The man in the square,” Darek replied, knowing instantly.

“Who? That guy?” Mission asked, moving closer.

Vale nodded, feeling numb.

“The Jedi?” Orex asked.

He remembered. Vale had talked about him a lot in those days, even if they were at odds at the time. Fighting alongside her mother, it was hard notto talk about her twin. Anyone that had been with her at Serrocco would know who Aiden was. She conveniently left out the part where their alliances didn’t quite align, not to mention his utter disdain for her allegiance to Revan to begin with, but all her mother needed to know was that Aiden was safe and that he was on his chosen path – wherever that led him.

“I have a feeling he’s not a Jedi anymore,” Vale managed to say, “In fact, I think this is his ship.”

“But this is-“ Mission began, looking to Zaalbar, “This is a Star Forge vessel.”

“How would you know-?” Orex asked before Vale could muster the words, but the Wookiee roared before he could finish.

Mission hushed Zaalbar’s outburst with a not-so-gentle “Hey!”

He grumbled, reluctantly returning his attention to the droid as Mission seemed to search for the right way to say whatever it was she was thinking.

“You’re, what, twenty?” Orex said, his voice even but accusatory. “When the war-“

“Let’s just say, I’ve seen some things.”

Zaalbar growled again.

“Correction: we.”

“Lemme guess,” Asra began, drawling and sarcastic, “You’re not at liberty to say?”

Mission frowned, but eventually nodded.

“I’m not exactly sure,” she admitted. “They weren’t really clear on the details.”

Whatever bad feeling had taken root when Vale stepped foot on Anchorhead spread ten-fold, even more so than her reaction to the sight of the holocrons at the abandoned site. This all tied together somehow. All of this was meant to happen. Her training would tell her that there was no such thing as coincidence, only the Force.

Vale looked at Orex, and despite his frustration she felt as if he was silently reaching the same conclusion. Maybe not anything relating to the Force, but that none of this was a coincidence, and that did not bode well.

“I’m sorry, I really am. All I was instructed to do was to bring you to the Republic.”

Mission’s voice was apologetic but defensive.

“The coordinates I gave your girl were random, or as random as they could be. Even I don't exactly know where we're going," the Twi’lek shrugged in defeat, "All I know is that once we drop out of hyperspace, we find the nearest space station, and wherever that happens to be, the Republic will be waiting for General Valen to take her to Telos."

General Valen. There it was again. In her mind, Vale always knew who she was and who she had been, but hearing her given name from the mouths of others still set her on edge. It had been far too long.

Mission and Asra continued speaking, Darek and Orex listening on as they recounted their steps back on Anchorhead and discussed the holocrons in as few words as possible to ensure their safe passage. For a moment, everyone else fell away, and all that remained was Vale and the ship.

The damn thing even smelled like him. She could almost laugh. After all these years, she could still detect her brother’s scent, the smell of his hair and the same soap he’d used for years. It was here. Some things really don’t ever change. The ship was irrefutably his.

She stood slowly, and began to meander, reminisce.

The crates stacked into the corner were locked. Vale figured she could guess the dolt’s password in a heartbeat. She was always good at that. But instead of hazarding any predictions, she moved on to the diagrams and maps pinned up along a corner of the far-right wall – Aiden’s makeshift “desk”, she presumed.

His handwriting had changed little. Small, uniform letters littered pages upon pages, and she smirked at his enduring preference for paper over datapads. The Archives are filled with them, he’d say, annoyed with her asking, there’s only so much fluorescent white-blue, or whatever the kriffing color is, that the human eye can take in.

A smile crept across her mouth at the thought, retreating to memory as it eclipsed her more recent ones. As to be expected, Aiden’s notes pertained to ancient artifacts, asking questions (no doubt, to himself) about origins, lore, and any inherent properties relating to the pieces he outlined in excruciating detail. It was not long before Vale came upon the notes he had concerning the holocrons once buried beneath the Dune Sea.

His records spared little information, only detailing the story she had heard upon first arriving in Anchorhead. The only indication that Aiden had known the source of the ruse or the true nature of the crystals themselves was an adjoining sketch of what very much resembled the crystals they found there, only his rendering more closely resembled a modern holocron, or at least some hybrid version of the old and new, with a note attached, reading: Korriban, ancient, pre-Hyperspace War. Several question marks adorned his query, but there were no further notes besides.

So, he hadn’t been here for her. The coincidences were piling up by the moment, and it was only a matter of time until he caught up with them, if he really wanted these things so badly. Though his transcripts divulged little, she doubted he knew much more than they did, but it was a start, and yet…

“How are we getting rid of this ship?” she asked the rest of them, completely unsure what the current topic of conversation was now. It was less accusatory and more of a call to action. Whatever talking transpired in the time she contemplated her brother’s things stilled to a quiet, and the others looked to one another for an answer.

“If this is a Star Forge vessel-“ she started.

“It most certainly came from Revan’s Sith,” Orex finished.

Vale faced them now, turning away from her brother’s work.

“Or Malak’s,” she added, though the name felt bitter on her tongue.

“So there are Sith left, but where would they be? Where would they come from?” Darek asked.

“There always seem to be more of them, no matter what we do.”

We. Vale, of course, meant the Jedi. Goosebumps rose along her skin as she inadvertently slipped back into her old self, unsure if this is what she wanted, or if there was anything she could do about it.

“Doesn’t matter where they came from,” Orex said gruffly, “The Republic can’t have managed to eradicate the Sith after what happened to Malak. Some might have fled, I’d imagine. It could be they who pulled off whatever happened at Katarr.”

Orex shook his head, thinking.

“And who knows what they’d do if we stole from them,” Darek added.

“Or knowingly hindered one of their own,” Vale heard herself say. The thought was fresh, but the idea that by one of them she meant Aiden still felt wrong to her, and unendingly weird.

Nonetheless, Vale raised a hand and watched as her fingers graced the pages of the diagram in front of her, almost as if she were an onlooker watching as her limbs acted of their own accord. She tore the page from the wall, and handed it to Orex.

“He knows about the holocrons,” she said, her voice hoarse and low. “It’s only a matter of time.”

Orex plucked the loose page from her hand, squinting at the paper as if he had never seen anything other than a datapad before - and maybe he hadn’t. After a moment, he looked back up at her, brows furrowed, as he handed the page off to Darek. Asra looked over the Zabrak’s shoulder, glancing at Vale all the while.

Mission’s eyes darted between the three of them, finally settling on Zaalbar as she stated, “I’ll contact my people.”

Her tone was still serious despite the youthful melody of her voice, and the Twi’lek ducked out of the cargo bay and back into the cockpit.

“I don’t like this,” Vale started, “I don’t like any of this.”

“Neither do I,” Asra returned to her side, placing a calm hand on her shoulder like she had earlier that day, even though it felt lightyears away by now.

Vale placed a hand over Asra’s, reveling in her warmth. She avoided close contact with others for a reason, and the reason made itself known like a plague of guilt welling within her. It was borne of an unspoken fear that she would ruin everything, just as she had with Revan and Alek, with Kavar and Atris, with Aiden and everyone else.

It was strange, really, how Vale had avoided making any connections whatsoever for the past nine years, and yet in a mere 48 hours had formed such strong bonds with the people surrounding her that she could not possibly imagine a life without them now. It was not unlike the war. As many memories resurfaced, the feeling of comradery was the eeriest. She made friends easily at the Academy, though the Masters remained wary of her, and the soldiers that fought alongside her were easy to follow her lead. There was never any question. For others, bonds were made as easily as they were broken - but not with Vale, not with Eden Valen. Bonds were made for life. She could tell in the way Orex still looked to her for guidance and approval, even though he assumed the role of leader himself now. And she could tell in the way Aiden spoke to her after all this time, after all that had happened. And the silence that spanned the time between.

But this would not last for long. It couldn’t. Nothing ever did.

Aiden’s ship yielded little more information in the way of where it had come from, exactly, and who he answered to. All they managed to find during their time in hyperspace were more notes on ancient artifacts, both boring and long-forgotten (as they most often were), and a series of coordinates to previously visited sites – though some coordinates remained encrypted, but for what reason they could not surmise. Vale managed to steal a collection of notes and uploaded as much as she could to her datapad, for safe keeping and further investigation.

Despite what happened at Anchorhead, Vale could not help but feel sentimental. Perhaps it was the fact that she had grown to trust those around her in so short a time and already mourned their inevitable separation, or perhaps it was because she was not quite over her falling out with Aiden and never would be. Perhaps it was both.

Aiden would always be family, if not more than that. He was her twin, and he was once very much her other half. Of all the beings that remained in the galaxy, he was probably the one who knew her the most, despite all that had happened between them. As twins, they had always been able to harness an unspoken insight into the other, as if they knew what occupied the other’s mind, the other’s heart, without ever asking. They just knew.

In spite of the all the questions that dogged her, Vale had a feeling she understood Aiden more now than ever before. But now was not the time to dwell on such things. There was work to be done.

Orex pored over what little else Vale could gather from her brother’s otherwise airtight hard drive. She was able to bypass most of his passwords, having guessed their contents within a matter of moments, but the rest of his files were more delicately encrypted, as if he had anticipated her perusal.

“Korriban,” Orex uttered, identifying a sketched map of the main Sith site at first glance, “And Dxun.”

The adjoining diagram outlined the Temple of Freedon Nadd, and the exact altar they had extracted the first set of ancient holocrons from.

Orex squinted at them with his good eye, discerning the notes and citations, but undoubtedly perturbed by the amount of detail divulged.

“We sent these to Revan and Revan alone,” he said gruffly.

“And Revan turned Sith,” Vale replied, “Whatever runoff there was after the war, Aiden must have joined them. This sort of information may have been common knowledge to initiates, or at least easily accessible. Especially since these things were Sith in origin, or so we guessed.”

Vale almost wanted to laugh. Aiden had cursed her decision to defy the Jedi Council, and yet here he was, a loyal follower of the Sith that followed the heretic Revan’s rebellion. If they ever met again, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. She was sure of that.

“So, it’s just as I feared,” Orex muttered, “There are more of them, who knows how many.”

Vale considered him, scars and all. Orex was as ordinary as they came, compared to a Jedi at least. Orex was as far from Force sensitive as you could get without being completely inanimate, and even still the Jedi Code taught that all living things were influenced by the Force, regardless. But from her time with him, Vale knew that Orex relied on his gut and his gut alone. There was no mystical force supporting his beliefs or swaying his actions, and yet…

“I don’t like knowing they’re out there,” Orex replied, as if reading Vale’s thoughts, though her train of thought was easy to guess by the silence that followed, “After what we saw, after what-“

Orex stopped himself. Vale hadn’t been around for all of it. Dxun was a nightmare, but she could only guess what came after or what Revan’s Sith forces were like. She had no idea.

“We’ll figure this out,” Asra rejoined, her eyes eager and alight with determination, “This isn’t over yet.”

We. Vale’s skin warmed at the sound of the word. Moments earlier, she had slipped. She said we, referring to herself and the Jedi, but now Asra said we and she meant them - here, now - and that felt more real than anything Vale had known since the war.

“We’ll have to, the galaxy is in enough trouble as it is.”

Darek spoke this time, his voice soft and soothing. His even tone, though characteristic of the Zabrakian race, was earnest, and it set Vale at ease. There was enough to set her on edge, and the Twi’lek’s insistence on calling her General Valen wasn’t helping any. At least Orex had the sense to continue calling her Vale.

“What?”

Asra’s hand reached for Vale’s arm again, her eyes narrowing with concern.

“Nothing, nothing,” she replied, aside from the abundant somethings that troubled them. It was good to know that the Jedi weren’t the only ones that cared about what happened to the galaxy at large, and that they weren’t driven by doctrines or long-standing traditions to do so. Vale wondered how many more like Orex or Asra remained in the galaxy, veterans or otherwise, but stopped herself lest she become distracted.

“I’ll talk with Mission,” Vale said, “Make sure we’re squared away before we dock.”

Saying goodbye in her shop was unexpectedly difficult, but knowing she’d have to part ways again was another story. Vale swallowed whatever emotion overwhelmed her and entered the cockpit for the first time since take-off.

Mission sat in what seemed like a daze, gazing at the ship’s controls from afar, mouth open in awe. She jerked slightly at Vale’s entrance, embarrassed for a moment before finding her resolve.

“How are y’all holding up?” Mission asked after a moment.

Vale shook her head, looking for the right words. “Good for now,” was all she managed, looking everywhere but directly at Mission.

The Twi'lek nodded in reply, gathering her thoughts and taking a breath before standing up again and looking at Vale straight in the face.

“I never thought I’d see one of these again,” the girl admitted.

Vale looked at her now, cocking her head. Mission shrugged, and after a moment surrendered.

“I saw the Star Forge. I mean, the real deal.” Mission laughed nervously, perhaps hoping to ease the tension mounting in her chest. “I imagine you knew her? Revan, I mean."

Vale couldn’t help but smirk, but not because she was happy. She was smug, if anything. Everything always comes down to Revan.

“Of course,” Vale responded, crossing her arms, looking out at the marble white-blue of hyperspace, “But the question is, how do you know her?”

Mission inhaled, the labor obvious and almost exaggerated as if she needed to gather an extensive amount of energy to tell the tale and buy herself time before figuring out where to start.

“I met her on Taris," Mission finally exaled, "But back then she was going by Nevarra.”

Nevarra. Vale had used that name, too. The girl didn't notice, and Mission continued without pressing the issue.

“I didn’t know who she really was, none of us did. I suspect you heard about what the Jedi did to her?”

Vale nodded soberly.

“She was just, I don’t know, a Republic soldier, trying to do the right thing. She did right by me. She-“ Mission stopped herself, looking away before continuing, “She helped me. She was… she was a true friend.”

Though she had said little, Vale could feel the weight in Mission’s words.

“She has that sort of effect on people,” Vale said, moving closer to the navicomputer on the side wall. Her eyes scanned the read-out of nearby planets, realizing that this was the most she had traveled in quite some time, and wondered where Revan was now. She had been on Tatooine, yes, and Vale had a feeling she was merely following in her old Master’s footsteps. This encounter was only further evidence.

“Did you-?” Mission asked, trailing off before she could finish.

Vale turned to find Mission looking up at her wide-eyed and apologetic.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry but-?”

“Did I follow Revan?” Vale conjectured, “No.”

Mission didn’t say anything in response, only cocking her eyebrow in confusion.

“When I knew Revan, she was, I don’t know how else to say it… but she was Revan. I followed her to war, yes. But not after. Something changed towards the end, before Malachor. She wasn't the same. A lot of them weren't.”

The Twi’lek dropped her gaze, inhaling deeply.

“You haven’t said much, but if anything, maybe Revan was more herself after whatever the Jedi did to her than she was before.” Vale wasn’t sure where any of this was coming from. Maybe it was to ease whatever uncertainty plagued the girl before her, maybe she was just guessing. Or maybe it was for herself. “Before they left for the Unknown Regions, Revan and Alek were my friends. I trusted them with everything, and they trusted me. But when they came back, they came back with secrets and no intentions of sharing them. With anyone.”

Mission locked eyes with Vale again as she continued.

“I always wondered what made them change, what happened to them. I have a feeling that whatever we found on Tatooine has something to do with it. I have no idea how it fits into the puzzle, but part of me just knows. I don’t know..." Vale trailed off, "But you do see why it’s important that we transport this cargo, uh, delicately, right?”

Mission nodded, though she seemed caught in a thought, her gaze not entirely intent while searching her memory.

“We went to Tatooine, too, y’know,” Mission eventually said, “Revan had been there before.”

“We ran into some Jawa not long ago, and they mentioned her as well," Vale added,"And the Star Forge.”

The Twi’lek nodded.

“Nevarra- uh, Revan – shared these visions with Bastila. She-“

“Bastila? Bastila Shan?”

Mission’s eyes widened, surprised by the interjection. She nodded, affirming.

Bastila, a few years her junior, had been one of Vale’s classmates - a rival, in fact. While the Masters feared her ability to form Force bonds, they revered Bastila for her gift of Battle Meditation. They were not as different as the Masters made them out to be, or so Vale believed, but despite their similarities, their experiences at the Academy could not have been more different.

“I knew her,” was all Vale managed to say, before asking, “She traveled with you?”

Mission nodded, “We rescued her, actually, though according to her it’s the other way around.”

Vale almost snorted.

“Sure sounds like Bastila.”

The girl sighed, nodding exasperatedly before continuing, “She and Revan shared these, I don’t know, visions of where these star maps to the Forge were, I guess. I think Revan and Malak found them before or during the war, I can't remember.”

Star maps. The Jawa spoke of those too. Vale had known about the Star Forge, but only after the fact, and Alek had refused to tell her the details.

“Were you ever-?”

“I was close with them, once,” Vale said, “but never that close.”

The realization had wounded her back then, but she couldn’t say she was surprised. Revan and Alek had already formed an unbreakable bond by the time Alek had recruited her, and despite their willingness to teach her and call her their protégé, they remained closer with one another, never quite extending the same closeness to her. She craved their approval, and the slight only hurt her further, inspiring her growing suspicions. Yet it was her wariness that saved her. Vale wasn’t sure which was worse.

Mission took her at her word, and did not ask that she elaborate, “I don’t like sounding suspicious about her, I hadn’t been before. But with her disappearing, no word, and then all of this-“ she gestured about vaguely, “I just don’t know. I don’t know if I should even be telling you any of this.”

Vale shrugged.

“I don’t know either, but I then again I don’t know much of anything these days," The bitterness was far more evident in Vale's words than she intended, but it was too late now. “Can you at least take care of these guys? They’ve been through enough hell."

Mission didn’t say anything at first, but she nodded, her gaze intent and understanding. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said finally.

Vale hadn’t thought a lot about any of this on purpose - about Revan, about her brother, about Alek (though she forced herself to call him Malak, lest she get sentimental), about the war, the Jedi, the Force and the unknown plan it had laid out for the universe and everyone in it. Vale couldn’t say that she had been happy these past nine years, but she had managed to find contentment in her time alone. Yet here it was, fast dissolving before her very eyes, and as the coincidences piled up she knew she was never meant to stay away from Republic Space for long. She was right back in the mess.

“About Revan-” Vale began again, unsure of what words might find her lips. Multitudes upon multitudes of questions had hounded her since Malachor, and before, all of them about Revan. Vale couldn’t be sure which one might escape.

Mission looked up at her again, wondering.

“Did she-“ Vale inhaled, “What was she like?’”

The Twi’lek fidgeted with her left lekku, stroking it before placing it behind her shoulder as she searched for the right words.

“I can only speak for myself,” Mission explained, “But she was… she was kind, curious, and infuriatingly stubborn.”

Mission laughed, looking away.

“She understood me, she gave me a chance. She believed me when I said I could handle myself, and she let me. She trusted me, and other than Big Z, no one else ever had. Though, I don’t know how much I’d trust Zaalbar’s initial impression of me, anyway, given Wookiee traditions and life debts and all.” Mission shrugged, “She changed that much, huh?”

Vale nodded. “I was right though,” she managed a small smile. “The Revan you knew sounds more like the one I did.”

Despite everything else still unanswered, a quiet calm settled over Vale as she exhaled again. Mission observed her, smiling in return after a few silent moments.

“She goes by Nevarra now, actually.”

Nevarra, there it was again. After everything, this couldn’t just be another coincidence.

“Nevarra-?”

“Nevarra Draal.”

Vale’s skin prickled, suddenly cold.

No. Not a coincidence at all.

#star wars #knights of the old republic #kotor #kotor 2 #fan fiction #my writing #the jedi exile #mission vao #zaalbar

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