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anchanted-one · 2 years ago

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Legend of Lightning Chapter 62. Therapy Begins

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43208574/chapters/114381535

Note: My memory during my depressed phase is often hazy, especially those of therapy. At times, I felt like I was half-asleep in the backseat of a car being driven by a questionably sober driver.

Which is why I don’t expect my depiction of Therapy to be accurate. So please be kind in that regard :D

It was a sunny afternoon when Jedi Master Oteg landed on Tython. He took a customary deep breath, closing his eyes and taking in the eddies of the Force. The Light was strong on this world, quite unlike any other world he visited these days. It rejuvenated his spirit a little. These days… dark times, dark times. The Force was in chaos, and most senior Jedi spent every waking moment feeling uncomfortable. He had hoped to never see its like again, after Raya had restored peace to the Galaxy, but alas, the stars were ever at war.

But at least he now had this one safe world.

His infrequent returns to Tython were as precious as they were ephemeral. One had to drink in every last moment they got. When he opened his eyes, he feigned surprise to see the woman standing there, as though he hadn’t Sensed her from the other side of the door.

“Ahh, Grand Master! I wasn’t expecting a welcome party.”

“Welcome back to Tython, old friend. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Nonsense! I needed a break. A few days’ rest, before the next campaign.” He followed the human, returning bows all around.

“Ah yes,” Satele smiled. “The ‘secret mission’ you refuse to tell me about. You do realize—”

“That it’s highly suspicious?” Oteg finished. “It’s merely a surprise for you, Grand Master! A <<redacted>>* my age me should be allowed his moments of theatricality, I think? A fair trade for all the wisdom I have to offer in exchange.”

“Have it your way then,” the child sighed. “Is there at least anything I can do on my end?”

“Perhaps. I will need a few good Jedi, and a few good pilots.”

“Seraphim should be ready for a combat mission in the next few days.”

“Good. I have a strong strike team prepared already. With luck, we’ll be able to hit Taral V by the end of the week.”

They entered a conference room close to the hangar, and Grand Master Shan immediately dropped her mask.

“I need answers, Oteg.”

“To what questions?”

“You’re aware of Vajra’s situation?”

“Yes, you were kind enough to send out a coded memo to all your colleagues on the Council. Poor boy… to be driven to this extreme—”

“But why does he want to see you?”

Oteg felt the muscles of his jaws loosen. “What?”

“It was the first coherent thing he said after waking up. He didn’t talk to Jasme, didn’t apologize to her, he didn’t even ask about Kira or T7. He jumped straight to Master Oteg. Why? The two of you haven’t interacted since he left Raudraksha nearly twelve years ago. He barely remembers you. Yet he asked for you by name. Even drugged up and worn out, he knew he wanted to talk to you. Why?”

Oteg sighed. “I have a guess, but there’s a good chance I’m wrong. Why don’t we just get it straight from the horse’s mouth? You’re welcome to sit in, if you like.” He always wondered if a day might come, where he would have to own up to what he did. Perhaps it was here; but there was a chance the boy didn’t know. Maybe he just wanted to talk about Uupa. Or perhaps, he wanted to talk about something else on Raudraksha. Maybe it was just a product of the anesthetics and deprivations, and he would forget now that he was properly awake.

“If this is another one of your games—”

“Not this time. I am dead serious. He is my closest friend’s apprentice after all, so I want to help him. I just don’t want to rush to any conclusions right now. When may I see him?”

Satele spoke into her comm for a moment. A voice answered; her daughter’s. That Jasme was her flesh and blood was one of the worst-kept secrets in the Temple, or at least among the Senior Jedi. Everyone just pretended to ignore it as a courtesy. “Looks like he’s awake. And lucid. His first therapy session starts in half an hour.”

“Good. Let’s not waste any time then, shall we? Let’s seek him out right away.”

Satele gave him a searching look before nodding. She was worried about Vajra, more so than any other Knights his age. It probably not too far off the mark to guess that it was because of Jasme, whose friendship with the boy was quite well-known by now. Unlike other Jedi, Oteg did not begrudge Satele her deviations from the rule. She had given her life to the Order, she had chosen the Jedi over a normal life, and she had never given anyone reason to suspect she regretted her decision, even though it had left her almost alone in the galaxy. She had few left, whom she could call a friend. The Order was all she lived for. The Grand Master was all she allowed herself to be, most of the time. Her path was as solitary as it got, but she rarely ever complained.

If there was any one Jedi who deserved some leeway, it was her.

Besides, love had helped many Jedi in the past, Jedi whom he had met and served with, like Revan and Bastila. Or Nomi Sunrider. Even Kreia had been stopped by love.

“I see you’ve not placed him in the General Ward,” Oteg commented, as Satele led him down to one of the sublevels.

“We’re trying to keep this under wraps,” Satele replied. “Vajra is a high-profile Jedi, thanks to his accomplishments. We still receive requests for him personally, from the highest echelons of the Republic. Some are requests for high priority missions, others for showing him off. We do not want word of this getting out.”

“Of course.”

Satele turned down a corridor and opened the first room on the right to reveal a safe room. Like most psych wards, it did not have anything that a patient could hurt themselves with. There were no locks on the doors, not even the fresher.

Vajra was lying down on his bed, and he looked terrible. He’d grown much thinner than Oteg remembered. His cheeks were so hollow that you could almost see the outline of his teeth. His hair was dull and lusterless, as were his eyes, which held a haunted, defeated look. There was a collar on his neck designed to stop him from reaching out to the Force, and his hands and feet were bound.

“Was this necessary?”

“It was. He nearly killed a nurse waking up, despite being drugged and weak. But perhaps it is no longer so. It isn’t my decision to make, however.”

Three pairs of eyes looked at him; Kira Carsen and Jasme Shan were both sitting in the room.

“Good morning, Masters,” Jasme began, but Kira talked over her.

“Please don’t ask us to leave. I think we deserve to know everything about this situation.” She glared hotly at her former Master, who averted his gaze.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Good morning, Vajra. I hope you’re feeling better under the care of our best doctors.”

The youth eyed Oteg uncomfortably, still not saying a word.

“I understand you wanted to see me—”

“Did you alter my memories?” he asked in a rush. “Or my head?”

Oteg gave a heartfelt sigh and nodded. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Some explanation is required,” Satele said, her voice soft but sharp.

“Master Satele?” Vajra tried to sit, forgetting for a moment that he was tied down. “Ow!”

Satele entered his field of vision and comfortingly ran her fingers through his hair. “Don’t try too hard. You’re still quite weak.”

“I need to move,” he begged. “All this sleeping around is driving me crazy!”

He certainly did look crazed. His eyes were wide, except for his firmly closed third one that is. They were so shot with blood that Oteg feared vessels might burst.

“Vajra, you’re not supposed to strain yourself,” Jasme said. “The vessels in your eyes have only just healed, you know. You’re supposed to relax completely. Don’t make me beg. You’ll be on your feet if you behave. I promise.”

“Just let us distract you in the meantime, okay?” Kira put in. “I know it can’t be easy in there.” Both women sounded like they had their own battles going on inside their hearts, but neither put in a hint of anger at Vajra, which was good.

“Remember your training. Try to breathe. Relax.”

“I can’t. I haven’t been able to for… for so long!”

Satele surprised them all by ripping off the restraints. “Stand.” Vajra complied, looking awed. Satele redid the cords so that his arms were still bound. “There. You can stand and walk now. Does that help at all?”

He nodded furiously. “Thank you, Master.”

Satele surprised everyone again by giving him a firm hug. He seemed to grow calmer in her arms, almost as if her poise and serenity were influencing him directly. Tremors in his limbs stopped, and his muscles relaxed. He exhaled a few times as he worked to reassert his control over his body.

Satele released the young man. “You were about to tell me about what you meant. How have your memories been altered?”

She phrased the question for him, but it was clear that it was also intended for Oteg.

Now calmer, Vajra began speaking at once. “I’ve had a lot of nightmares these past few months. Uphrades on fire. Everyone I lived alongside for years being exterminated like bugs. I could feel their pain and anger. I felt guilty for not being able to save them, for not dying alongside them. But then I saw the slaughter of the Devarath tribe. I saw Darth Bellicose killing them all, even children younger than myself. I remembered seeking out my mother’s body in that place, and lying down in her arms. And I felt nothing. Nothing at all. No love, no guilt, no rage, no sorrow. When I woke up, I tried to remember my days on Raudraksha. I had memories, some quite clear. But it was like watching holodramas in a cantina. I felt no attachment or sense of belonging.”

All three women looked accusingly at Oteg, who held his ground. “It was me,” he admitted. “Vajra had survived something as cruel as the massacre of everyone he’d ever known. He was shellshocked when the Raudra recovered him, but recovered briefly under the Force’s influence. Too briefly. He was already returning to a catatonic state when we got back to the ship. We needed to reach him before he shut down again.”

“Did Uupa agree?” Satele asked.

“She wasn’t happy. The only reason she consented was because of my second argument.”

“Which was?”

“That her time was running out. If she wished to train the boy herself, as the Force seemed to desire, she would not be able to train him for years. If at all. Against her better judgement, she allowed me to go ahead and modify his emotional response to his memories.” He turned to Vajra. “Please do not blame Uupa. If you must harbor a grudge against someone, make it me. I made quite an unethical decision—”

“Can you do it again?”

“What?” the boy’s request shocked everyone. “Do you realize what you’re asking?”

He nodded. “I can hear them all. It’s all I can hear these days. I can’t eat or sleep. I can’t reach out to the Force. I need… I need to stop it. Somehow, anyhow! Please, can you help me?”

There was stunned silence for a moment. Satele looked over at Oteg, who finally shook his head. “Things have changed since then, Vajra. You were a child. There were fewer memories in your head, and they were all connected. Now that you’re older, your brain is less moldable. In addition, your memories are far more solid and branched out now. Affecting your memory of Uphrades might affect those of your training, or anything else. One wrong step, and I’d turn you into a droid. Or a psychopath. There’s a reason this isn’t standard practice.”

“Anything,” Vajra staggered upright. “Anything! I don’t want the screams to stop! Anything, please! What must I do!?”

“I’m afraid there are no more shortcuts. The only thing you can do now, is commit to your therapy. Doctor Row is good, as half our Masters can attest to.”

Vajra’s shoulders sagged visibly, and he sat down on the floor. His expression was one of utter defeat. Looking at him, Oteg fancied he could hear the poor boy’s ghosts. Kira helped him up, wiping her eyes. “Master… if it means never hearing the screams again, would you be okay losing your feelings for me? Or Jasme?”

Distracted though he was, he shook his head without hesitation, and so firmly that everyone felt a little better.

“I’m glad we mean that much to you,” Jasme was wiping her eyes. “Never knew you’re willing to fight your demons for me! For us…”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Kira held him like they were each other’s lifelines. “If the Council wants me gone on another mission, they can kiss my ass. I’m staying. I’ll not let you do this without me. Not again.”

“Your friends are your strength, my dear child,” Oteg spoke to Vajra. “I understand how you made the mistake before, but don’t ever try to face your monsters alone again. They are what will help you win, for they are the only things in this galaxy that make you willing to face the darkness. Remember that. You are different from most Jedi. Embrace that. Don’t try to be something you’re not. And never lose your soul again.”

Thoughtfulness spread across his face as Vajra considered the words. At last, he nodded remotely. An uncomfortable cough from beside the door caught everyone’s attention.

“Ah, Doctor Row,” Satele welcomed her warmly. “I hope you’ll forgive me for freeing Vajra without consulting you first—”

“Not to worry. If he hurts my feelings too badly, I’m billing the Jedi.” She glared at Oteg. “And we need to talk later.”

Oteg shrank back. Explaining himself to Satele and these children was one thing, but Row was an expert on psychology. She was far more aware of the risks and consequences. She might even know—no, she definitely did—that his action might have permanently weakened Vajra’s mental resilience.

“Any time you like, my dear Doctor—”

“As for you, young man,” she looked over at her patient with soft eyes. “I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. But I’m glad you have a reason to get through this period.” She smiled at Kira and Jasme. “I promise, you won’t have to resort to rusty tricks like Master Oteg’s in order to improve. I also promise, that you can improve. Are you ready to get started?”

The Raudra nodded listlessly.

“Come,” Satele said softly. Oteg and Jasme followed, but Kira stayed firm.

“I want to be here,” she murmured.

The doctor shook her head firmly. “No. Perhaps in future sessions, but for the first few, it will be just me and him.”

“It’s alright, Kira,” Jasme tugged her hand. “He won’t do it to us again. Will you?”

Vajra’s face burned with shame. “No.”

“See? Let’s go. Leave Doctor Row to her work.”

Vajra shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The doctor had allowed his bonds be loosened, but his collar remained. He could still feel the Force, but he could not use it. Not without being interrupted by a jolt.

Doctor Neha Row smiled at him kindly, waiting for him to answer a question.

“I’m sorry? My mind got lost there.”

“Both those sweet girls seem to mean a great deal to you.”

“Yes. They’re both practically my sisters now.”

“I see.” Her smile twisted playfully. “Do you think you have a crush on either of them? Or both of them?”

“No,” Vajra replied honestly. “And I don’t think either of them sees me that way either. I’m still sixteen.” And Kira has a boyfriend. Doesn’t she? She did when we last met. I wonder how he’s doing now. How they’re doing.

“Whether it’s romantic or platonic, you seem to love them a great deal. You care more about having hurt their feelings than what you almost did to yourself.”

Vajra nodded. “I wish…” he swallowed. “I wish neither of them had been unfortunate enough to meet me.”

“Why do you call it unfortunate?”

“Everyone I ever cared for is dead.”

She scribbled a note on her clipboard. “Uphrades and the Devarath.”

“That’s right.”

“But neither of those is your fault. I hope you know that.”

“Uphrades—”

“Angral was thoroughly questioned. He did not know what the planet meant to you. He chose it because of its importance to Coruscant. The Capital is scrambling to fill the gap in its food supply.”

“But still. Everyone I know dies.”

“That is true for everyone else, too. You almost died, and you’ve seen how that affected your two adoptive sisters. Besides, haven’t you saved Kira’s life several times now? She’d be dead without you. Or worse. In fact, there are trillions today, alive because of you.”

“Pure luck.”

“Luck may have been involved, but so too was skill. Yours. I’ve read through the reports. Every decision you made was a good one, if not the best one available. Especially on Coruscant. I don't know what transpired on Nar Shaddaa—” she scribbled something on her pad, perhaps seeing a reaction to the mention of Smuggler’s Moon “—but you acquitted yourself most nobly in the war of Alderaan.”

“I guess…”

She waited a few moments before prompting him. “How do you feel?”

“Guilty. Weak.”

“Survivor’s guilt is a common affliction to people who watched their comrades and friends die. Or perhaps I should say ‘Felt’ in your case. Can you describe your experience to me?”

Vajra swallowed. “I… I Felt them. I Felt connected to seventeen million people. I knew some of their signatures thanks to my time with them. They were roasted alive. I felt the air burn in their lungs, the flesh melt off their bones, their eyes fall out of their skulls. I felt their anguish, not only for themselves, but for each other.” He swallowed again. “I felt Gabril fall off a tower he liked to climb. I felt Sonni’s fear for her infant child. I heard her call to me, begging me to save the child.”

“You know this for a fact?”

Vajra blinked.

“Sometimes, our memories make things up. You’ve undoubtedly seen her in your nightmares. But did you see them in that moment?”

He tilted his head, trying to remember. “I can’t…”

“It’s okay. Who were Gabril and Sonni?”

“Gabril was a good friend. Sonni was his older cousin. I… I liked her. I used to… to dream about kissing her. Or holding her hand. Making her laugh. I never told her, of course. But she knew me well, and hung out with me often enough. She was Jasme’s age.”

“I see. Do you feel responsible for her death? The death of her child?”

“Yes.”

“And not counting your nightmares, which will only reflect your darkest thoughts back at you, was Sonni the sort of girl who’d have blamed you?”

“I—no.”

“Tell me about her.”

Vajra began to talk about all the times they’d had. The annual harvest competition, the picnics, the games, the contests. The few anecdotes that stood out among the rest.

“First crushes are always so cute,” Doctor Row smiled.

Vajra didn’t return it easily. “She had a child. I’m certain of it. And I…”

“Angral. Not you. You are no more responsible for the destruction of Uphrades than you are for the that of Taris and Telos, three hundred years ago.”

“I guess…”

“Is there something else troubling you?”

“I—I… I think I used the Dark Side.” He babbled the truth of his fight to her, leaving out none of the details. He told her everything, from his frame of mind to his ruthless slaughter of anyone who stood in his way. He held back details about exactly how, but he ended with the most damning of his actions. “… I had him at my mercy. And I crumpled his mind like it was made of feather glass. With the Force.”

“Given the circumstances, I think it’s natural.”

“It’s not the Jedi way.”

“I doubt even Grand Master Satele could stick to her guns if she were in your situation, with all her experience and maturity. Not something like this. I hope you’ve realized just how few people are forced to witness murder on such a massive scale. What Angral did was an abomination.”

“Has the Empire tried to demand his return?”

She shook her head. “Only his head. I think they’re upset that one of their premier Darths has been reduced to such a… shameful state. As they should be.” She laughed unkindly. “Has anyone told you about the reaction to his defeat?”

“No…”

“There were parties in the street. People dressed up as the man and wailed ‘Dada! Dada!’ Others talked nonstop about how, after all of his bluster, he was defeated by the first Jedi who managed to fight him when he didn’t have the deck stacked. And that this Jedi was a mere adolescent. People made a point of screaming ‘Maybe Darths aren’t so big after all’ on Imperial Channels.”

Vajra chuckled. “Reckless. What if it had hurt their poor feelings?”

“They weren’t pleased. They demanded Angral’s head back. As punishment for him going rogue, they said. Supreme Commander Rans reminded them that the treaty didn’t oblige us to return someone who they had disavowed. He also let slip that perhaps Angral’s fate may repeat itself, should any Sith start to act up.”

“What the hell?!”

“It was a bluff, of course, but the Sith were clearly not willing to test it. Yet. Oh. And there were also secret celebrations on occupied worlds. I believe there were even Sith who celebrated, chief among them, Lady Kaira Rooks. She sent you a gift hamper.”

“Who’s Kaira Rooks? Wait, never mind. I’ll ask Jasme.”

“A good idea. House Rooks has a fascinating history. Anyway, the galaxy is relieved by Angral’s death, just as it was by Bellicose’s. Everyone out there is looking for your name in the news, eager to know what you’ll do next.”

“Did anyone see ‘attempted suicide’ coming?”

“Not that I’m aware of. But you know what is on the forecast? Defeats of Sith like Malgus. Barras. Marr. Some are even betting you’ll kill the Emperor.”

“They’re mad.”

“They were encouraged. The Treaty of Coruscant… well. I don’t know if you heard, but there were over fifty million suicides when it was signed. Many were not as protest. People were shocked and disheartened. They thought the galaxy was ending. Others just couldn’t accept that after all the carnage, all the sacrifice, the war would end in such ignominious defeat. And Angral was one of the architects of that defeat. His downfall has brought cheers like you wouldn’t believe!”

Vajra understood the fear. He thought back to that day he’d received news, nearly seven years ago, recalling his own dismay at the thought of Sith victory. He had remembered the slaughter of his people by Darth Bellicose, worried that this would be the fate of countless Republic worlds. And he’d not quite been proven wrong.

His fellow Uphradeans had also been shaken. The normally happy and jovial townsfolk had grown tense and fearful overnight. Someone had started floating the idea of mass suicide should the Empire come knocking. Vajra remembered watching, aghast, as cannisters full of Sleeping Death had been passed around to everyone. He had refused his, of course. If he’d kept it, he might have used that instead of a noose.

Master WenSuul had not attended that emergency meeting. Her knees had failed her when news of the Sacking arrived, forcing her to sit down on a heap of fallen leaves. Vajra had carried her back to the cottage, and tended to her as she spent the next few days in a daze.

Come to think of it, that might have been the last day she left her home.

He told Doctor Row all his thoughts, and she sighed. “You see? The Sacking of Coruscant left a scar on our people. There are billions of citizens—or former citizens, I should say—who feel betrayed to this day, even though the Senate’s hands were tied. That is why your actions gave them such powerful hope.”

“It’s a sham,” Vajra whispered. “A lie. We aren’t ready for another war, not yet.”

“That’s not the point right now.”

“Alright.”

“Tell me your thoughts on the Sacking of Coruscant.”

Vajra cast his thoughts back seven years. “Until I set foot on the world myself, Coruscant wasn’t a real place to me. It was… a symbol, I suppose? A beacon that represented the heart of the Republic. The center of everything the Republic stood for, and the source of civilization in the galaxy.”

“That is how they’ve propped themselves up to look,” Doctor Row chuckled.

“I thought it was an endless city in the clouds, filled with rainbows and terraced gardens. Which is a ten-year-old child’s rendition of the truth, I suppose. I still can’t comprehend one trillion people. That is truly vast!”

“Yes it is. And I seem to recall you once saved all those lives. Almost single-handedly, too.”

“Feels so long ago.”

“Almost two years, no?”

“I think so. And now I’m living in the woods and nearly ended my own life.”

“You keep bringing that up. Are you feeling ashamed?”

“No,” he admitted. “Only because I hurt Jasme and Kira. If not for them, I wouldn’t hesitate try again.”

“Good thing you’re here then. We’ll keep you safe from yourself.”

“Why? Why do people care about someone like me?”

“Even the worst people in the galaxy have those that care about them.”

Vajra thought about the Power Guard program. “That’s not true. The homeless, the poor, the addicts. All the poor souls who joined th—” he stopped short, remembering that this was privileged information.

“It’s alright,” she said. “Under Republic Armed Forces regulations, I’m authorized to be hear even classified information, if my patients need to talk about it. Don’t spare any details.”

Vajra opened up about the program, being more open per her request. He was taken aback by her rather tame response, which was a forlorn sigh.

“Does this happen often?”

“More than you’d believe,” she confessed. “But I can’t tell you about them. War makes people desperate. Especially when they’re losing. I promise you, there are others out there just as horrific and unethical. We just don’t hear about them. And no doubt the Empire has such programs underway too. The best we can do is to help the victims, something which I’m certain you did.”

“Why? Why are you certain, I mean?”

“Because I’ve read your file. You’re one of the more conscientious Jedi. You go above and beyond for those you feel responsible for.”

“But I killed thirty Power Guards. On Angral’s ship.”

“A tragedy. But what choice did you have?”

“The ship was disabled. If I’d waited—”

“Angral might have gotten away. Or he may have pointed the ship itself at the Temple. You don’t need a bridge to do that, you know.”

“The reactors were down. The ship was dead. We had him. We had them all. All I had to do was take my time. I could easily have defeated the Power Guards without killing them.”

“I see.” She made a note of that. “But you went for the quick option. Why?”

“I—I wanted Angral defeated.”

“Vajra, while I can be persuaded to agree that you had other options, I want you to acknowledge one thing. You were not yourself that day. The destruction of Uphrades had a profound effect on you. Any other day, any other day… we will work on making you acknowledge that. We will reconvene the day after tomorrow. You’ve gotten a lot of things off your chest today, given them words. And I’ve said a few things in return. I want you to reflect on them. Can you do that?”

“I guess so.”

“In addition, I’m giving you a datapad.” She gave him a parcel wrapped in brown paper. “I want you to verbalize your thoughts and feelings. Talk about how you’re feeling. I have remote access, so I will be able to review it all outside our sessions. This kind of journalling might bring out some thoughts that you’ve kept hidden. Even from yourself.”

He nodded.

“I also want you to list things you are grateful for, every time you see one. Anything, no matter how small or big. Or if it’s a thought about yourself.”

He nodded again.

“I’m clearing you for leaving the ward so you can exercise again. Get plenty of it, see plenty of grass and sunlight. I will see you again the day after tomorrow. You take care of yourself now, alright?”

#star wars #the old republic #swtor #fanfic #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #Jedi Knight #hero of tython #Kira Carsen #satele shan

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swtorpadawan · 2 years ago

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Invincible

Author’s Notes: The following story takes place on Yavin during the Shadow of Revan storyline in my Halcyon Legacy. CW for violence, original character deaths, and brief blood and gore. Also – this is a rather long one, folks. My apologies.

“Dammit! We’re being driven back.”

Theron Shan’s face glowered in consternation as icons representing various Yavin Coalition military units shifted across the holo-map, many of them retreating while a few flickered out entirely.

The Revanite counterattack against the Coalition forces here on Yavin IV had come suddenly, besieging Republic and Imperial troops alike across a wide front. Within minutes, many of their forward positions were isolated if not overwhelmed, while the remaining defensive hardpoints were pinned down, unable to support other troops when they needed it the most. All coordination and communication between the reluctant allies had seemingly gone out the window in the wake of the assault, and the cybernetic communications relay in his ear was being bombarded with requests – pleas, really – for reinforcements, for support, for orders, for any help whatsoever.

Standing around the makeshift conference table at Coalition headquarters, the other members of the ah-hoc ‘leadership council’ – Lana Beniko, Satele Shan and Darth Marr – were likewise intently reviewing holo-transmissions and reports as they came in. Beniko’s expression was one of focused and controlled anger. That was the kind of personal discipline that made her such an effective Sith. Satele (Theron was trying very hard not to think of her as his mother at this moment) watched over the proceedings with a frown of contemplation. Until she saw the necessity to interject herself, she would keep her peace. Marr… well, Theron obviously couldn’t see the expression of the Dark Councilor’s face behind his metal mask, but Marr radiated intensity under normal circumstances. Right at this moment, with all their plans at risk and the campaign itself in doubt, the closest thing the Sith Empire had to an actual leader was positively seething.

None of them had bothered to respond to Theron’s dire assessment of the situation.

The unprecedented Yavin Coalition composed of the Imperial troops commanded by Marr and the Galactic Republic forces led by Satele had successfully invaded the moon known as Yavin IV and – up until just a few minutes ago – had appeared to be on the verge of victory, pushing the remnants of the Order of Revan back until they were almost at the base of the ancient, pyramid-like temples for which Yavin was infamous. Some of the forward Republic recon troops had even reported they’d been facing greater resistance from the indigenous Massassi warriors than they had from the Revanites.

Now the Coalition forces had been caught overextended, with the Revanites driving a wedge between the Republic and Imperial forces. It seemed almost everyone was calling for reinforcements, air support, resupply, orders… the command headquarters couldn’t cope with it all.

“Isolate the problem.” Satele Shan’s voice was carefully measured as she broke her silence. She may have just as well been presenting a logic problem to a group of Jedi younglings in a classroom back on Tython for all the alarm she demonstrated. “Revan is attempting to distract and overwhelm us. Otherwise, his attack would have been much more precise. If we can look past his maneuverings and identify his true strategy, we’ll be able to understand his intentions.”

As if on mental reflex, Theron realized that she was right. He recalled Master Zho teaching him that same technique so long ago in his childhood, and he strongly suspected that Zho had been the one to demonstrate the same stratagem to Satele once upon a time in the Grand Master’s own youth. (Though he had a very hard time imagining Satele ever being a youngling.) Coalition command had been thrown off its game. Junior officers of both factions were scrambling around the conference table with the communications aides urgently relaying messages and reports. Just outside field commanders were yelling for their troops to form up and prepare for deployment as soon as the orders came down. The sound of artillery fire could be heard in the distance…

These factors were all just distractions.

Theron had always preferred being a field agent over being an analyst. Indeed, he’d been more than a little rankled when Marcus Trant, the Director of the Republic’s Strategic Information Service, had temporarily placed him on desk duty as a punishment for one of his “unsanctioned operations”. (Alright, it had been several “unsanctioned operations”.) But that inclination didn’t make him any less effective at analyzing tactical information. Utilizing his cybernetic implants, he crunched the numbers, trying to make sense out of all the chaos. Finding his center. His sense of calm…

Time seemed to slow down for Theron. As he looked down at the map, he didn’t see soldiers fighting and dying or the Coalition at risk of collapsing. Instead, he saw a clearer picture start to take shape.

After a moment of contemplation, it became obvious to Theron that the Revanites’ numbers were not as impressive as the ferocity of their attack would seem to suggest. Nor was their counter-offensive as broad as it had initially seemed on the map. Yes, the Coalition flanks were being pressured, but only half-heartedly, as if to discourage reinforcement or encirclement of the main thrusts by the Order. The allies still enjoyed a significant overall advantage in force strength by better than a two-to-one margin; maybe even more. But that advantage had been neutralized by the Revanites’ rapid advancement…

“There.” The crisp, Imperial voice interrupted his thought process.

Much to Theron’s chagrin, Lana Beniko, the former chief aide to the Minister of Military Offense of the Sith Empire (and his erstwhile partner for the last few months in exposing the Revanite conspiracy), had found the solution first.

Beniko re-oriented the holo-map, zeroing in on one particularly deep thrust into the Coalition lines. The display flickered as live holo-streaming of the scene quickly followed the three-dimensional image, projected above the map.

“This is the tip of their spear.” She explained, as they watched the small group of Revanites effortlessly tear through a platoon of Republic soldiers. The assailants appeared to be cyborgs… led by a single armored Sith Lord. “Their vanguard. It’s the lynchpin to their attack. Their momentum is keeping us hamstrung.”

Theron immediately recognized the design of the cyborgs from their mission to Rakata Prime months earlier. Infinite Elites. Revanite volunteers surgically enhanced with Rakatan technology in a process developed by Gorima – a sick, twisted Selkath scientist who’d been operating a secret laboratory on Manaan, the same creep who had briefly tormented their ally, Jakarro, the Wookie smuggler. These cyborgs were incredibly powerful, with their advanced, regenerative capabilities allowing them to shrug off most attacks. Revan had intended to build an entire army of the Infinites, using them as his shock troops. They’d proven to be so dangerous that Theron had even wanted Jedi Master Corellan Halcyon, their ally against the conspirators, to terminate the Infinites they’d found on Rakata in their stasis pods out of hand. (Corellan had refused. Typical Jedi nobility. With hindsight, Theron shouldn’t have been surprised.) Regardless, he’d been relieved when their efforts on Manaan and Rakata had resulted in the destruction of the completed Infinite prototypes, as well as the technology required to create more of them.

Apparently, that sense of relief had been premature.

There may have only been a squad of them, but these Infinites were nevertheless hammering through their formations like a juggernaut, the thin end of the Revanite wedge driving into the Coalition lines.

“Revan must have gotten them off Rakata before we moved in on them.” Theron heard the frustration in his own voice even as he silently called in an air strike via his implant. “He planned this. Keeping them in reserve until now.”

Seconds later, the quartet around the table watched as a squadron of Republic dive-bombers unleashed their payloads upon the advancing squad of Revanites. As the holoprojection flickered to adjust to the smoke and fire, Theron witnessed a Jedi and a Sith leading Coalition commandos into the area. The intelligence agent briefly allowed himself to hope that this strike had finished off the Infinites and would blunt Revan’s entire counter-offensive.

That hope quickly evaporated as he saw the massive Sith Lord who had been leading the Infinites rise to his feet, activating his twin crimson lightsabers. Theron had not initially identified this foe beneath his strange, ornate armor, but now, on closer inspection, he realized that he recognized this mighty Sith Pureblood.

Indeed, nearly everyone in the entire galaxy should have recognized him by now.

“Kael.” Marr hissed behind his mask, the Dark Councilor’s voice was dripping with venom and contempt.

Lord Kael Nosrol Krannus was a towering Pureblooded Sith Warrior of great renown. Over the course of his relatively brief but infamous career, he had led countless operations against the Republic, from crushing the War Trust on Taris to freeing the Dread Masters on Belsavis. Dozens of Jedi and thousands of Republic soldiers and civilians had fallen beneath his blades, including wiping out at least one Strategic Information Service team at a safehouse on Nar Shaddaa. According to the intelligence reports Theron had read, he was wanted for a long series of war crimes and had gained a reputation for brutality even by the standards of the Sith. But it had been on Corellia where his ruthless butchery against his enemies had earned him a new epithet: The Emperor’s Wrath. He had become Vitiate’s chosen, hand-picked to eliminate the Emperor’s enemies both in the Republic and within the Empire. Although the Sith Lord had never formally been named a Darth, anyone would have been foolish to think him any less deadly for that lack of title. Indeed, he had already crushed several of the most powerful Darths in the Empire for apparent disloyalty to the throne, even slaying his old master, Darth Baras. He’d thus cemented his claim as the Emperor’s Wrath before going on to lead Imperial troops on Ilum and beyond.

There had been no reported sightings of Krannus in almost a year, not since he had supposedly broken with the Dark Council and the entire Imperial hierarchy. Locating him had been a priority of the SIS for some time.

Right at this moment, Theron sorely wished that the Emperor’s Wrath had remained missing.

He watched as the Sith Lord stormed through the Coalition commandoes, ignoring multiple blaster shots to his body mere moments after shrugging off the aerial bombardment.

The Coalition Jedi and Sith attempted to divide Krannus’ attention, attacking him from opposite flanks; the Twi’lek Jedi on his right with his lightsaber and the human Sith Lord on his left with Force lightning. For a moment, Theron thought they might have succeeded when the Jedi’s blade caught Lord Kael’s armor squarely on the shoulder while just missing his helmet – a blow that should have all but severed his arm – while the Sith’s lightning blasted at his armored torso.

Impossibly, the massive Pureblood shrugged off these lethal assaults and then, in a single move displaying more agility than should have been possible for a man of his size, simultaneously impaled both of his opponents, one lightsaber sinking into the chest of each.

Just like that, the effort to stop Lord Kael and the Infinites had been snuffed out, the few the surviving commandoes quickly overwhelmed by the Infinites.

Theron grimaced. Not even Mandalorian beskar should have protected the Sith Lord so completely from the kind of punishment Krannus had taken, and he wasn’t even slowed down.

As a stunned silence settled around the table, Theron remembered that the Coalition had already definitively ruled out any orbital strikes from the fleets above. The main temple held by the Revanites was protected by a force field for one thing, and for another they’d decided that the risk of friendly fire falling on their own forces was too great. (Though Marr, of course, hadn’t been thrilled with that decision, given the stakes in play.) That danger was even greater now with the Infinites driving so far into the Coalition lines. There was nothing else he could think of in the Coalition’s arsenal that could have stopped Krannus.

“Please magnify on his armor.” The firm, unexpected voice cut through the silence.

It was only then, as he looked up at the speaker, that Theron realized there was a fifth individual watching the display above the holo-table. Jedi Master Corellan Halcyon looked like he had just fought through Hell itself while simultaneously looking resolute enough to invade it for a second time at a moment’s notice. The Jedi’s robes were singed at the edges and his armor was lightly scorched though undamaged. His expression, normally healthy and open, was darker and grimmer than Theron had ever seen before with bags under his eyes and a pallid complexion.

He doesn’t look good. Theron thought to himself. But one could not have told that from his posture or from the clarity of his voice.

This was the champion who had taken down the Emperor’s Voice on Dromund Kaas. Who had spear-headed the raid on Korriban and then mere hours later had liberated the Jedi Temple on Tython. The one person who Theron and Lana had trusted when they’d gone on the run after they’d been framed for killing Darth Arkous and Colonel Rian Darok on Rakata Prime. On Rishi, he’d defeated Nova Blade pirates, Mandalorian bounty hunters and Revanite conspirators in quick succession without seeming to break a sweat, inflicting more damage in a few days than Lana and Theron might have managed in months.

Since the joint task force had arrived on Yavin three days ago, Halcyon had been even more impressive. His reputation alone demanded respect from friend and foe alike. Every time a trouble spot emerged, every time it appeared bad feelings over decades of war might drive a wedge between the reluctant allies, Corellan had personally intervened, acting decisively yet amicably, putting out fires before the leadership council even knew about them and showing a mutual respect that puzzled the Sith, impressed the Imperials and inspired the Jedi and Republic troops to put their differences with their allies aside and behave themselves. If the Hero of Tython – who’d probably fought and killed more Imperials in combat – Sith and otherwise – in his relatively young life than anyone else still breathing (aside, perhaps, from Satele Shan herself) had made no objection to fighting alongside the Empire, hardly anyone else could either, given the circumstances. He hadn’t started this campaign with a reputation as a diplomat, but he definitely seemed to be building one for himself, albeit unintentionally.

His entire demeanor seemed to have changed since coming to Yavin. At first, Theron wanted to think it was just the proximity of so many Sith. Then he wondered if it might have been that their target was Revan, a figure who was almost mythical in the tales of both the Jedi and the Sith. Heck, Corellan, like Theron, had probably grown-up hearing bedtime stories about the legendary fallen Jedi.

But now, Theron was starting to fear that it was the presence of the Sith Emperor here on Yavin. The same tyrant who’d captured Corellan and his crew at his Fortress years before, imprisoning them for months. The same cancer who was, if reports were to be believed, responsible for much of the suffering the galaxy had experienced dating back to the Mandalorian Wars.

The same enemy who Corellan – and the entire Republic – had hoped had been permanently destroy during the attack on Dromund Kaas.

All this has to have taken its toll. The SIS agent privately suspected. It was rumored that Halcyon hadn’t been sleeping; simply meditating for an hour or two at a time before pressing on with whatever needed to be done. He’d rotated his crewmembers regularly to keep them fresh, then had headed off on another mission. Each time, he’d check in with the temporary command center at the base camp, reporting on details he had observed that might have been missed through the various chains of command.

He also hadn’t shied away from putting his own crew at risk when necessary. Yesterday, he’d designated his loyal astromech droid, Teeseven, to oversee the advance sensor array they’d set up, thus keeping the Coalition’s monitoring system impartial. Later he’d ordered Sergeant Rusk to take temporary command of a company of Republic troops who had lost their commanding officer during the fighting. The veteran Chagrian soldier had quickly whipped that demoralized unit into shape, and even now they were successfully holding one of the critical defensive positions along the Coalition’s lines despite the Revanite assault. And just minutes ago as the attacks had begun, Corellan had assigned his squad medic, Doctor Archiban Kimble – or ‘Doc’ to anyone who asked – to treat wounded Imperial soldiers who’d been cut-off from their recovery camps. The Imperial officer on site had sworn an oath that no harm would come to Doc, and that he would be returned safely to the Jedi Master afterward.

Satele and Marr had provided the leadership and legitimacy. Theron and Lana had delivered the expertise and intelligence on the Revanites and how they operated. But it had been Halcyon, with the aid of his crew, who had brought a sense of unity to the Coalition.

Theron had worked with Corellan Halcyon off and on for more than two years now, ever since enlisting the Jedi Master in a couple of off-the-book operations to deal with problems the SIS would have preferred to remain under wraps rather than address through “official” channels. He was a bona fide hero. A paragon, even. The best Jedi warrior of his generation. A champion of the Republic and the protector of the free galaxy. Honestly, he was exactly what most Jedi younglings grew up wanting to be. The guy the Republic military put on their recruitment posters.

Since they’d arrived on Yavin, Theron had learned that beneath that surface, Corellan Halcyon also possessed a keen tactical mind. One that understood full well the strategies employed by Sith and Jedi, Empire and Republic.

By now, Halcyon had become extremely effective at combating the Revanites, regardless of which faction they’d previously worked for. Their enemies might all claim to serve Revan, but it had been proven on Rishi and now again on Yavin that they weren’t all ‘one big, happy family’. The Order of Revan desperately needed symbols to rally around; specifically, they needed the symbol of Revan himself.

That was the kind of unifying symbol that Halcyon was providing to the Coalition.

And it was now apparent to Theron that the Jedi Master was proving surprisingly adept at approaching people undetected. Even where it concerned dealing with allies.

Even when dealing with Force users as potent as Darth Marr and Satele Shan.

Theron usually prided himself on maintaining a good sabacc face. After all, he was an SIS agent. That sort of went with the territory. But he had no doubt he looked startled right at this moment. Lana had also blinked in surprise at the unexpected arrival. Marr’s face was concealed by his mask, but even his head tilted up in surprise as Corellan’s voice cut through the room.

Only Satele seemed nonplussed at the Jedi Master’s sudden appearance, simply accepting it in stride. If the Grand Master was concerned with Corellan’s behavior or physical appearance of late, she had clearly decided not to reveal that in front of the Sith. She nodded in Theron’s direction, who was only now reminded that he was the one at the terminal controls.

The Republic operative swallowed, increasing the magnification on Krannus’ armor as requested. Some of the resolution was a bit hazy – that often happened when transmissions were broadcasting during a battle with portable surveillance equipment – but the distinct pattern across Krannus’ body eventually became clear. The bulbous pieces looked strange to Theron, who was familiar with a great many body armors commonly used throughout the galaxy by soldiers, mercenaries and Force-users.

“I don’t recognize that design.” He admitted.

“Nor do I.” Lana admitted, who looked over towards Marr and Satele, questioningly.

The Jedi Grand Master was once again in silent contemplation, as if the answer to the problem was hiding right in front of her but would only reveal itself in time.

Officially, Darth Marr was the head of the Sith Empire’s Sphere of Military Strategy and was the second-longest tenured active member of the Dark Council. Unofficially, Marr was effectively running the Empire at this point, having bent the Council to his will. Analysts in the SIS had been taking bets on how long it would be before Marr formally declared himself the new Emperor.

Theron hadn’t taken that action on the bet. Marr knew what had happened to Darth Malgus on Ilum when he’d tried to claim Vitiate’s throne and establish a “New Empire”. Even when it came to Vitiate himself, who’d ruled the Empire for more than a millennium, the facade of invincibility that once came with that position had been shattered. As an institution, the Sith Empire only operated properly when everyone was too frightened of the Emperor to challenge him, or to risk compromising his goals with the internal squabbles. The title of Emperor must have looked much less attractive considering the present political climate, where any Sith who claimed supremacy risked being pulled down and destroyed by his fellows.

Theron suspected that Marr was playing a much different game.

Regardless, he also had to assume that Marr had more practical knowledge than just about anyone else living concerning the multitude of exotic weaponry of the Sith. And he was being silent.

That silence worried Theron intensely. With all the other surprises the Revanites had thrown at them over the last few months, the last thing they needed was mysterious Sith armor that seemingly made one of the most dangerous Sith Lords living invincible.

As he tried to analyze the armor for weaknesses, he could only consider it an effort in futility.

“Honestly, it doesn’t look like armor at all. It looks more like… shells.” He added, grasping for any observations.

With Krannus leading them, the Infinites couldn’t be stopped. With the Infinites leading the Revanite assault and driving a wedge into the Coalition lines, their entire offensive couldn’t be stopped.

Invincible, indeed.

“Orbalisks.” Corellan’s calm, matter-of-fact voice cut through the silence once again.

Theron turned to look over at him again. The Jedi Master was looking down at the projection in what he could only describe as ‘intense detachment’ as the magnification moved out again. In the projection, Lord Kael had Force-leapt onto an attacking Imperial Walker, knocking the towering machine over before eviscerating its driver with his lightsabers for good measure.

Theron was realizing no one else had responded to Corellan yet. He had no idea what an ‘orbalisk’ even was and no one else seemed to be stepping up either. In the absence of any elaboration, Lana took the lead this time, her brow furrowed intently as she addressed the Jedi champion.

“Do you know how we can stop him?”

Corellan Halcyon turned away from the display and towards Lana. The two of them had – along with Theron – developed a surprisingly strong working relationship these last few months. They had made a good team, regardless of their personal, political and ideological differences. (And Lana allowing the Revanites to abduct and torture Theron. That had been a bump in the road.) This question undercut a reversal of roles; usually, it was Corellan relying on Lana and Theron for information, direction or analysis.

But here in this instance on Yavin, the people standing around the table were relying on the young Jedi Master for his knowledgeable insight.

“We can’t.” Corellan answered firmly, gently stressing the first word. “But I will need some help.”

That wasn’t lost on Theron. The Hero of Tython clearly had something specific in mind. Something he intended to personally put into motion.

Corellan had followed Lana and Theron’s lead on Manaan, Rakata and Rishi, and he had likewise acknowledged the authority of Satele and Marr as leaders of the leadership council assembled here on Yavin.

But now, he was calling his own play.

We’ve underestimated him. Theron considered. All of us.

The Hero of Tython raised his arm to chest level, tapping the communicator on his wrist.

“Kira. We’re up. Maneuverer Alderaan-Delta-Three.” He paused, checking his chrono and apparently doing some quick calculations in his head. “Eleven minutes.”

“On it.” a familiar, feminine voice answered. Corellan closed the channel just as quickly.

Since they’d started working together, Theron had long come to understand that Corellan usually only operated with one of his companions by his side at any given time. He had always assumed there was some method behind his choice; a specific companion for a specific kind of mission. That would make good strategic sense, though the particulars in Corellan’s thought process usually escaped him.

Theron had met Kira Carsen several times. First on that Corellian rescue job almost two years ago, then more recently at Carrick Station before the assault on Korriban. He liked her. Frankly, she was probably the most outgoing Jedi he’d ever met and she was genuinely funny. (Granted, her jokes directed at Theron about being ‘Satele’s kid’ had grated on him, but he could deal with that.) Her combat record was proof that she was fantastic with a lightsaber, too. He’d been rather surprised that he hadn’t seen her working beside Corellan lately. He knew that she’d been by his side earlier on Rishi but when Corellan had first arrived at the safehouse Theron shared with Lana and Jakarro, Rusk had been accompanying him. Later, he’d seen Teeseven and Doc at his side as well. He’d found it curious at the time, idly wondering if the two Jedi were ‘on the outs’ somehow.

Whatever Corellan had in mind – whatever ‘Maneuverer Alderaan-Delta-Three’ even meant – he’d clearly decided he needed Kira with him to execute his plan.

The Jedi turned towards Theron and Lana.

“Set a timer.” He requested. “I need every bomber we can get in the air to hit Kael and the Infinites in exactly ten minutes in successive waves. Then pull them off after 30 seconds.”

Theron set the timer on reflex, then checked the data. The Infinites had advanced well past the range of the remaining Revanite anti-air flak cannons. At the speed they were moving at now, it would be a tricky target; even fighter-bombers usually weren’t designed to hit a target as small as a single squad. But he could predict their movement speed and relay those coordinates to the pilots.

“We can do that.” Theron offered. “But you just saw that it won’t keep them down for long.”

Corellan looked down at the SIS agent intently. For a second, Theron thought he might have seen a hint of a grim smile on the Jedi’s lips.

“I don’t need it to keep them down for long.”

Without another word, he turned and headed towards the exit.

“I’m ending this battle.” He spoke as he walked away from the table intently, never breaking stride or even looking back over his shoulder. “Now.”

Theron blinked as the Jedi Master departed, then turned back and looked at the others.

Lana seemed uncertain. Satele looked concerned but continued to keep her silence. Marr… Marr just continued to watch the passageway where Corellan had exited, as if trying to decide something. Theron now realized that Corellan hadn’t even asked Satele or Marr – the Coalition’s nominal leaders – for approval of his plan.

Without anyone needing to say anything, Theron relayed the orders.

Kira Carsen was more than ready to go when she’d gotten the call.

Three days of barely seeing any action back on the ship while a massive battle waged around her had admittedly left her antsy.

Corellan would have known that, and she knew he wouldn’t have held her back this long without a good reason.

She’d also barely seen him since they’d arrived on Yavin. He would have known how that would make her feel, too. She knew he wouldn’t do that to her if it could have been helped.

(It also didn’t help that they could both feel the Emperor’s presence here on Yavin. Deep down, she’d always known he hadn’t been completely destroyed on Dromund Kaas. But feeling him this close still put her on edge.)

These were their lives: They meant everything to each other, but the needs of the rest of the galaxy would always come first.

Kira knew that. She understood it. She even accepted it.

That didn’t mean she had to like it.

Still, she’d been monitoring the situation carefully. Kira had been in enough battles to know that this one was rapidly approaching its climax: the fight between the Revanites and the Coalition would be decided over the next few minutes.

And in this crucial moment, Corellan Halcyon, the vaunted Hero of Tython, had called her. She’d never admit it to anyone, but that meant something.

(It meant everything.)

Kira didn’t know if she’d ever be a Jedi Master. That goal had once been a driving ambition for her; something to solidify her sense of acceptance within the Order. To give herself that reinforced sense of belonging that she’d been seeking for most of her life. Maybe she’d even have been able to stir things up with some much-needed policy reforms. But the last few years – spent with Corellan and their crew – had eventually led her to reconsider her career goals.

She was happy with who she was. And with where she was in her life.

For example, Kira couldn’t imagine there were many Jedi Knights who could outfight her in a one-on-one lightsaber duel at this point. After all, Kira had been the one who’d struck the killing blow against Darth Nox on Tython, one of the most feared Sith in the galaxy and a particularly infamous member of the Dark Council.

But Corellan was the most driven lightsaber duelist she’d ever met. He was up before dawn most mornings (long before Kira usually rose), sparring with Scourge for an hour before even showering and sitting down for breakfast. Then, if they didn’t have a mission that day to keep him occupied, he’d spar with Kira in the early evening, working them both almost to exhaustion.

He was dedicated.

(And if Kira had ever felt overshadowed by her partner, he’d more than made it up to her during their nights alone together. Lightsaber training wasn’t the only thing he was dedicated to.)

And he did his homework, too. There probably wasn’t a holocron or text on lightsaber combat in the Jedi Archives that he hadn’t borrowed for review at least once.

But as valuable as those had been, they couldn’t begin to compete with the knowledge provided by the individual who lived in their cargo bay.

For someone like Corellan Halcyon, training with someone like Scourge was more valuable than a dozen holocrons. The former Emperor’s Wrath had spent three hundred years hunting and slaying the Emperor’s enemies, effectively becoming a ‘boogey-man’ within the Sith Empire. Kira thought it was ironic that most of those ‘enemies’ had been Scourge’s fellow Sith. (After all, up until these last few years, the Emperor had had little to fear from the Jedi, himself.) He’d taught Corellan dozens of techniques that would aid him in facing and defeating his enemies.

In the years since Dromund Kaas, Corellan’s reputation among the Sith and Imperials had only reached new heights. Even most Mandalorians refused to accept contracts on him anymore; not since his meeting with Xadya on Makeb.

Kira hadn’t listened to every lesson Scourge had taught Corellan about ancient Sith weapons and rituals, but she’d gotten the gist of what orbalisks were. (And frankly, the things sounded incredibly disgusting to her. As neat a trick as it sounded, invincibility would not be worth having those nasty bugs all over her body and digging into her skin.) According to Scourge, Vitiate had destroyed all known records of the blasted creatures decades ago. Not because he feared they could make a rival Sith powerful enough to face him; Kira’s ‘father’ was apparently far above such physical concerns. No, it was more to discourage any ‘fools with delusions of grandeur’ who managed to master the Dxunian creatures from even attempting such an act.

And Corellan being Corellan, he’d put in more than a little thought into how to counter an enemy employing the parasites should the need ever arise.

Kira supposed she owed the ‘Big Tomato’ a ‘Thank you’ for that kind of help.

The culture of their ship facilitated this kind of thinking. Hundreds of hours of training amongst their crew had led to the creation of dozens of combination maneuvers for various contingencies. Alderaan-Delta-Three was one such combination. With Scourge’s assistance; Kira and Corellan had trained for it in parts, but they’d never actually had the chance to use the whole thing in a real fight.

To Kira, that uncertainty made this job even more exciting.

Also, she’d get to bring her speeder-bike. Things were always more fun when they involved speeder-bikes, in Kira’s opinion. It would be a pity to lose this one; she’d spent months customizing it just the way she liked. Force, it was even purple.

But if this worked, then it would be worth it.

Both for the thrill of the thing, and to win this battle.

The sooner they got off this rock, the sooner she and Corellan could get some alone time together.

Theron knew that lightsaber enthusiasts and gamblers alike had been debating for years who would win in direct confrontation between the Hero of Tython and the reigning Emperor’s Wrath, and for good reason. The two champions of their respective factions were contemporaries: Corellan Halcyon and Kael Nosrol Krannus were near enough the same age with vaguely similar ‘career tracks’. Both were practitioners of Jar’khai, wielding a single-bladed lightsaber in each hand at once to devastating effect. Both had incredible combat records and a plethora of accomplishments, any one of which would have granted any warrior legendary status in the wider galaxy. Both had seen action at many of the same flashpoints that had defined the current conflict for the last few years.

Taris. Balmorra. Belsavis. However many others.

Frankly, it was a wonder that the two adversaries, these titans of the age, hadn’t met in battle before now.

Between the two of them, four consecutive Sith Lords at the head of the Empire’s Sphere of Military Offense - Vengean, Baras, Arho and most recently Arkous – had met their ends; the first two by Krannus and the latter two at the blades of Halcyon.

(Theron had heard that the entire ministry had recently been placed under Marr’s “temporary” stewardship, since Arkous’ death on Rakata Prime. If Theron had been Marr, who’d spent decades as the head of the Empire’s Sphere of Military Defense, he wouldn’t have been in a hurry to formally claim that position any more than he apparently wanted to claim the title of Emperor.)

Nor was that the end of the parallels of their journeys. Corellan had reportedly slain Lord Kael’s brother on Belsavis. The Imperial Executor – a fanatically-loyal servant of the Sith Emperor’s will – had attempted to destroy the prison world to further Vitiate’s plans for a ritual that could have destroyed the galaxy.

(Just thinking about that report had boggled Theron’s mind. He was, after all, just a spy. Situations like this still felt like they were way above his pay grade.)

From what Theron had heard, Kael had been – if anything – even more loyal to the Emperor than his brother had been.

But now, seemingly in a complete reversal, the surviving Krannus had taken up with the Order of Revan. Conspirators who fanatically opposed the Emperor’s return to the point where most had turned their backs on everything they’d ever known, to ally with a fallen Jedi who’d gone missing for centuries.

What could have prompted such an astronomical shift in allegiance for the Sith Lord?

And now, after all of that, he was finally facing Corellan Halcyon.

Theron had it on excellent authority that Nar Shaddaa bookmakers had a massive betting pool of several million credits going of what would happen when the two finally met, with odds swinging back and forth between one or the other.

The intelligence operative couldn’t deny that as the fighters began their bombardment of Krannus and his Infinites and the seconds ticked down to whatever Corellan was planning, he felt a surge of adrenaline within him despite the circumstances. As he looked around the table above the holo-map, he could feel that the others were intrigued as well.

There.

Within seconds of the barrage beginning, an icon representing a speeder bike appeared, tearing across the map, skillfully dodging stray blaster fire along the battlefield. The Coalition had been employing a handful of the machines, mostly for transporting portable equipment and relaying messages and orders that couldn’t be safely transmitted. This, however… this wasn’t one of those efficient, practical, military vehicles. Based on the specs of the data-stream, Theron recognized this one as an Aratech Coral speeder, a high-end civilian bike designed for style and mobility as well as speed.

As the holoprojection focused on the speeder, Theron noted the two figures were mounted in the pilot’s seat, a smaller figure – with short red hair, he noted – driving the vehicle while their companion, larger, wearing Jedi robes and armor, had their arms wrapped around the driver’s waist.

Just before the bike crashed into the Infinites, the two Jedi leapt off.

The resulting explosion made the holo-display flicker as it knocked Krannus and his squad down yet again. Everything within ten meters of the point of impact was suddenly immersed in flames, the wild grass on the ground briefly catching fire before just as quickly burning out. Theron only now realized the speeder must have been rigged with incendiary explosives. As Corellan and Kira landed unscathed, their lightsabers lashed out at their fallen enemies.

Theron was starting to understand the broad details of their tactical plan. The Infinites were normally all but indestructible; but as Corellan had proven on Manaan, exposing them to extreme flames could briefly leave them vulnerable to direct attacks.

Including attacks made with lightsabers.

As Kira continued to finish off the stunned Infinites, Corellan turned his attention to Lord Kael, who suddenly found himself alone and isolated. The Pureblooded Sith had risen to his feet and now plainly recognized his opponent.

The Jedi Sentinel squared off against the Sith Marauder, with the fate of Yavin, the Order of Revan, and perhaps the whole galaxy on the line.

The Hero of Tython versus the Emperor’s Wrath.

As their blades met, Theron was tempted to ask for popcorn.

Kira’s lightsaber impaled the last Infinite before it could rise, finally snuffing the last of them out for good.

For a fraction of a second, she wondered who this person had been before their transformation. Did they have a life? Did they have a family? Did they fall for some bill of goods the Order of Revan had sold them to get them to volunteer for this insane procedure?

Would they regret that their lives had come to this?

She was reminded of Agent Galen, who’d worked with Kira and Corellan on Coruscant and later again on Nar Shaddaa during the Desolator Crisis. The SIS agent had been abducted by Lord Sadic, and then horrifically transformed against his will into an Imperial-aligned Power Guard cyborg. Thanks to the Jedi duo, the Republic operative had broken free of the Sith’s control and had found peace with his lot. Kira heard months later that Galen had eventually met his end while serving on an SIS mission, but he did so on his own terms, doing something that mattered to him.

Kira took some comfort from that memory as she steeled herself and turned to join the main event.

The duel before her was incredible.

Kael Nosrol Krannus was using Form VII to deliver ferocious blows from both his sabers without restraint. The powerful Sith Lord was considered by many to be the master of using Juyo with twin lightsabers. Corellan was, for his part, seamlessly alternating between stances: employing Form Three – Soresu – to deflect Krannus’ attacks before switching to the powerful strikes of Form Five – Shien – to press him back; precision and grace one moment, decisive strength in the next.

The Jedi’s approach was slowly starting to frustrate Lord Kael, who – to no one’s surprise – was responding with overwhelming rage. His only rival for the title of ‘mightiest warrior in the galaxy’ had finally engaged him in battle and that challenger had already taken the early advantage by eliminating his supporters. Even as she approached, the Sith roared, battering the Jedi’s defense with powerful blows.

Kira scowled. Even this varp-head was ignoring her.

His mistake. she vowed to herself.

Kira Force-leapt at Krannus, her green double-bladed saber flashing high above the battlefield.

“Eat lightsaber, jerk!” she called out.

Corellan timed it perfectly. As a startled Lord Kael raised his crossed sabers above his head to meet Kira’s attack, the Jedi Master’s own blue lightsabers found an opening, slicing low at the Sith Lord’s ankle.

Had it not been for the orbalisks, the blow would have cleanly severed Krannus’ foot, and that would have been the end of it.

Instead, the attack (mostly) glanced off the impenetrable armor. Wounded or not, the impact had definitely further enraged the massive Sith Pureblood however, pushing him even further over the edge.

“Shavit!” Krannus screamed in pain, his blades recklessly slashing at Corellan again even as the Jedi effortlessly jumped backwards, a graceful toreador fighting a mighty bull.

Kira and Corellan hadn’t had time to discuss this part of the plan, but through their Force-bond, she knew they didn’t need to. She felt what he was doing. Kael’s orbalisk armor may have protected his body and even fueled his rage, but even with the Force, his physical and mental stamina had limits. Especially if he were wasting energy with his frustration.

This wasn’t the ‘end game’, of course. That would come later. But Corellan was a savant at lightsaber combat. Where most skilled duelists could, at the most, think a few moves ahead against an opponent of equal skill, it felt to Kira that Corellan could see a dozen moves ahead, even against a Sith as dangerous as the Emperor’s Wrath.

Krannus had the advantage of strength and resiliency. With his orbalisks, he could shrug off nearly any attack.

But as his frustration grew, it would also turn into anger and rage. Those emotions would power a Sith, but it would also lead them to make mistakes. The longer this fight lasted, the more Lord Kael fell back on his instincts. And those instincts had been honed long before he had donned the orbalisk armor. Those instincts were plainly built on the premise of ‘The best defense is a good offense’. (After all, if your enemy was dead, they couldn’t attack you, could they?) Within minutes he was again fighting like someone who was supremely confident in his capability to overwhelm his opponent with his powerful attacks to the point of arrogance, not like someone who rationally knew he couldn’t be wounded and had adjusted his tactics accordingly.

Corellan Halcyon and Kael Nosrol Krannus were equals in nearly every way. But here, their differences shined through for all to see.

Lord Kael had the benefit of his impregnable armor.

Corellan had the benefit of having a plan.

And of having Kira.

As the duel in the center of the battlefield raged on, so too did the greater battle of Yavin.

Theron knew that there was a perception amongst the general populace of the galaxy that the great clashes between the Galactic Republic and the Sith Empire were ultimately decided by lightsaber duels between Jedi and Sith.

Historically, Theron knew, that was rarely the case. While there were always exceptions, most major battles were instead decided by planning, logistics and – in Theron’s experience, what with being an SIS agent – superior intelligence.

He was starting to realize that – despite the Hero of Tython’s reputation as being exactly that, a Hero – Corellan Halcyon understood the same thing. Young though he was, at some point during his adventures, Corellan had learned to appreciate the difference between tactical planning and strategic planning:

Good tactics could win you a fight.

Good strategies could win you a war.

Because regardless of whether he and Kira could beat Krannus, in eliminating the Infinites and halting Lord Kael’s advance, he had already stopped the Revanites’ momentum cold. Their offensive had stalled.

The Coalition lines, buckling mere minutes earlier, were now consolidating and holding firm. Formations had regrouped, communications re-established. The pressure on the flanks faded as the Revanites struggled to hold their gains against superior numbers. The ‘wedge’ into the Coalition lines was now under pressure. Now, it was the Order of Revan troops that were looking overextended.

In that moment, Theron Shan finally began to understand why Halcyon had been so successful throughout his career. Yes, he was brave, skilled and powerful, but now he understood that this was what the Jedi Master had actually done on all those other worlds in his travels.

He didn’t do other people’s jobs for them. Instead, he took on the central problem those people were facing – the one obstacle that was causing the crisis and preventing the people there from doing their jobs – and that freed everyone else up to refocus on what mattered.

He helped people to help themselves. That not only earned him peoples’ gratitude, it also minimized any potential resentment people might have for being ‘rescued’.

And that’s what he was doing right now for the Coalition commanders.

Even if Corellan and Kira did fail to put down the ‘invincible’ Sith Lord, they had already defeated him. The Revanites were starting to be pushed back by Republic and Imperial forces all along the front. Looking down at a secondary display, Theron noted the icon representing the troops under Sergeant Rusk’s command. They had routed a group of the Order of Revan’s attack droids they’d been fighting and the Chagrian was even now driving his soldiers forward.

The tide had been turned.

Win or lose the battle, Corellan Halcyon had already won the war.

How long had they been fighting? Minutes? Hours? It could have been a day for all Kira knew. But the Force was surging within her, firing up her endorphins. She hadn’t felt this powerful since she’d purged Vitiate from her mind back on the Desolator above Tython years before.

Right now, with the adrenaline pumping in her veins, she felt like she could keep fighting like this forever.

And with Corellan at her side, she never questioned what the outcome of this fight would be.

It wasn’t courage, really. It wasn’t even faith, though Force knew she believed in Corellan Halcyon more than she believed in almost anything.

No. This was the confidence of certainty.

In the four years since Kira’s Knighting, Corellan had never taken on a new Padawan, despite numerous offers from the Jedi Council to do so. Nor had Kira accepted any assignments that would have allowed her to begin formally training a Padawan of her own; something she’d always intended to do herself.

Their physical relationship aside, this fight highlighted the reason why. They simply could not do the things they did with anyone else. Certainly not with a padawan.

They frankly would’ve gotten anyone else killed.

At some point, perhaps inevitably, Krannus had shifted his tactics, refocusing his attacks on taking down Kira while simultaneously attempting to hold off Corellan. No doubt he had decided that once he’d dealt with her, he could have turned his full attention on the Jedi Master in a one-on-one engagement with improved odds. Theoretically, it was a sound strategy, eliminating your weaker opponent so you could then focus on the main target. Kira and their crew often used similar tactics against particularly powerful enemies and their followers, allowing Corellan to isolate and defeat the primary threat.

But Lord Kael employing this plan in turn against this particular duo ignored three critical factors:

First, while she couldn’t match Corellan in sheer power or ability, Kira Carsen was still one of the most skilled duelists of her generation of Jedi. One who’d spent a childhood training to be a Sith on Korriban and who’d endured an adolescence just surviving the dangers of Nar Shaddaa and who’d spent nearly every day for the past four years training against the very best the Jedi Order had to offer. As far as she was concerned, she was no one’s “weaker target”.

Second, countless Sith – and far more Imperials – had already attempted this exact same tactic against the pair of Jedi. Thus far, it hadn’t worked out for any of them. Their ‘switches’ – where Corellan and Kira would suddenly change positions during a maneuver – had been the undoing of some of the deadliest Sith in the galaxy, most notably with Kira’s lightsaber spelling the end of Darth Angral on the Desolator and – much more recently – delivering the death blow to Darth Nox during the Empire’s assault on the Temple of Tython.

Third, the bond between Corellan and herself now far surpassed anything she imagined any two Sith – with their inherent distrust of each other – or any two Jedi – with their dogmatic dismissal of attachments – could ever experience. Kira and Corellan fought as one.

This Sith Lord didn’t have a chance.

As his frustration continued to build, Lord Kael let out another roar of rage.

“Schutta!” he cursed, calling upon the dark side as a massive radial Force blast knocked Kira and Corellan back.

Had she been on her own, Kira might – might – have been intimidated by the sheer power behind the blast. Krannus was proving to be even more powerful than Zu’fanda Pampya had been on Tython. More powerful than Darth Malgus had been at Ilum. Perhaps – in sheer power – he was second among the Sith only to Vitiate himself.

But fighting beside Corellan, with his innate combat senses and reassuring presence, she saw the blast it for what it was: a desperation move.

As she regained her balance, Kira found herself smirking in spite of the situation. The attack had been against both Jedi, but the expletive – with its feminine connotation – had unquestionably been directed against her. She’d gotten to him.

So when Lord Kael reached out his fingers and she felt the pressure of a Force choke squeezing her neck, Kira didn’t panic. Her own defensive barrier, having briefly flickered by the Force blast, reasserted itself, resisting the strength of the Sith’s attack. He was still restricting her breathing, but he couldn’t apply enough pressure to strangle her or to snap her neck. With time, perhaps, he could have rendered her unconscious.

But time was something Lord Kael Nosrol Krannus had just run out of.

Corellan Halcyon had risen to his feet.

As Kira glared into the Sith’s golden eyes, she could tell the moment they both sensed what was about to happen. Engaged this closely to Kael, she could feel him start to panic as he desperately used the Force to hurl her towards the oncoming Corellan, clinging to the hope that it would buy him a few more seconds to regroup.

And Kira… Kira simply placed herself in the hands of the Force. And in the hands of Corellan. Instinctively, she turned her body sideways in mid-air, watching in awe as a cerulean blue lightsaber passed above her by mere inches while sensing an identical blade passing below.

It took her mind a second to comprehend what had happened; as Kira’s body had been thrown towards him, Corellan had unleased both of his weapons in a twin-saber throw towards Krannus, one directed above her, the other beneath, no more than a meter apart.

It was an insane move.

Had Kira not turned her body at the precise instant she had, she’d have been sliced apart.

Before she could process that, however, she felt Corellan’s hand catching hers. Rather than pulling her into his arms, she instead felt his own body turning in place. Kira’s feet never touched the ground as her deep blue eyes caught his icy pale blues for a fraction of a second.

That fraction of a second was all Kira needed to understand exactly what Corellan was doing.

Had they been anyone else – any other two Jedi in the galaxy – this entire maneuver would have been insane. They’d have both been killed.

But they weren’t anyone else.

They were Kira Carsen and the Hero of Tython.

They were young. They were in love.

But above all else, they were heroes.

And today, with the eyes of the galaxy upon them, they would prove that claim beyond any doubt.

Spinning in place, Corellan effortlessly redirected Kira’s momentum, releasing her hand and hurling her back towards Krannus.

The Sith Lord had barely fended off the attack of Corellan’s sabers. Turning to see the Jedi Knight hurtling towards him through the air, her green, fluorescent double-bladed lightsaber ignited, even his Force-enhanced reflexes weren’t fast enough to block her attack.

In that instant, as the Emperor’s Wrath looked up at her in shock, Kira felt like a living weapon.

More, she felt like she was his weapon.

It was nothing like what she’d felt like when she been under the Emperor’s control. Back then, she’d felt like she was losing her own sense of identity. Like she was less than a slave.

Here, through her bond with her partner, she felt free.

Because someone like Kael Nosrol Krannus, who’d spent most of his life devotedly serving the worst tyrant the galaxy had ever seen in pursuit of his own personal power, would never understand that to someone like Kira Carsen, moments like this weren’t just worth dying for.

Moments like this were what she lived for.

Kira’s blow caught the inside of Lord Kael’s helmet as he screamed out in pain, dropping one of his lightsabers as he reached his hand up to grasp at the wound. She landed on the other side, turning to see that Corellan had regained his own lightsabers and was now standing alongside her.

Whatever Krannus’ helmet was made of must have been tough; he wouldn’t have survived this long if it wasn’t. But it didn’t protect his entire face.

As his blood spilled across the ground, Kira realized that she’d put out his right eye.

There had been a multitude parallels between Kael Nosrol Krannus and Corellan Halcyon over the years. But how they faced change and adversity were quite different.

Kael had once placed his total faith in Vitiate, the Sith Emperor, the being of ultimate power who had ruled the Empire for more than a millennium convinced that service to that monster was the truest path to power.

When he’d seen that faith shattered, he had thrown himself into the service of Revan, losing all sense of himself in his pursuit of revenge.

Corellan had once placed his total faith in the Jedi Order and the Galactic Republic.

When he’d seen things that had challenged that faith, from the Jedi Order’s dogmatic apathy on Voss to the Republic prison on Belsavis to Chancellor Saresh’s “military reforms”, he’d learned from it. He’d grown up. Matured. Evolved. He’d accepted that he could look past the shortcomings of others and find the strength within himself to do the right thing. That our beliefs could evolve without sacrificing the principals that defined us.

Corellan had accepted that he could change without abandoning the things that made him Corellan.

Their choices had now led these two icons of their respective, warring factions to this point here on Yavin at this exact moment.

With his remaining good eye, Lord Kael now glared at Corellan with a burning hatred.

“They call you the Jedi assassin.” He spat blood on the ground between them.

Kira felt a flash of anger at the Sith’s verbal snipe. She wanted to shout back at him that Corellan was the blasted Hero of Tython, and that he had saved the whole blasted galaxy, and that Kael could take his insults and go kriff himself.

Instead, she felt nothing but a cool acceptance from Corellan, who maintained a defensive stance with his lightsabers drawn.

“I would imagine they do.” He acknowledged, a placid expression on his face. “I’ve killed many people in my time, Lord Kael. Sith. Imperials. Criminals. Even a few rogue Jedi here and back on Rakata who joined you in Revan’s service.”

Corellan exhaled.

“I admit, at one point, even I was afraid I was turning into something I wouldn’t recognize.”

Krannus stood stunned, breathing heavily, a trickle of blood trailing down his red cheek from his ruined eye socket. Lightsabers usually cauterized the wounds they caused; this was something else. His body wasn’t responding normally. And whatever response he’d expected from his barb at the Jedi, it hadn’t been a confession.

“But just recently, I met with… with an old friend.” Corellan continued.

Kira knew instinctively that he was speaking of their encounter with the Force-ghost of Orgus Din, his old master, on Rishi. Corellan may have called almost everyone he’d ever met a ‘friend’, but she knew the few who actually got to him.

After all, she knew his story.

She knew everything about him, inside and out.

“That friend helped remind me of who I am and why I do what I do.” The Hero of Tython continued. “That I do have a future, if I can just let go of my fear that it will never come.”

He smiled wistfully.

“The strangest thing happens when we let go of our fears, Lord Kael. We become… well, I believe we become more of ourselves.”

To Kira, that very sentiment said so much about Corellan. Some cynical thinkers – and maybe even Kira herself – would claim that people were defined by their fears. How much suffering had been caused by people fearing their fellow sentient beings? Or for a lack of resources? Or a hundred other fears that seemed to drive everyone’s motivation? Even Kira’s own story had only really begun when she’d fled Korriban in fear of what the Emperor was doing to her.

Right or wrong, Corellan was exactly the kind of person who would think that people could only become the best versions of themselves when they let go of their fears.

That was one of the things she loved about him.

And he wasn’t finished.

“But that begs the question… with all the sacrifices you’ve made from just by donning that armor, what is it that you’re afraid of?”

Krannus’ good eye blinked once, and Kira found herself smirking as he snarled in anger at the barb. As Corellan raised his lightsabers, Kael’s hand lashed out with a massive blast of Force lightning towards the two Jedi…

All along the front, the Coalition forces were emerging from their defensive positions, starting to advance. Slowly at first; the Revanites were fanatics and they made their enemies fight for every step. But the loss of their momentum and the carefully coordinated counterattacks ordered by Satele and Marr were having the desired effect: The allies were once again starting to gain ground.

In a few minutes, if Krannus were even still alive, he’d be encircled.

So when Lord Kael’s blast of Force lightning struck Corellan’s crossed sabers, Theron decided that this had to be the end.

As lightning met lightsabers, the seconds started to pass. Roaring again in frustration, Krannus’ added his left hand to the attack, discarding his lightsabers entirely as the holoprojection flickered at the sheer power being unleashed from both hands.

Any second now, Corellan would break the circuit. He would turn the lightning aside and take the fight back to the Sith, even if he couldn’t directly penetrate the armor. Or, perhaps, he’d have Kira lead off with a series of distracting blows, then move in himself for the kill.

Once that happened, the leadership would order an all-out attack. The Revanites were already starting to buckle. Once Krannus was off the board, everything else would – Force-willing – fall into place.

He watched intently. Any second now…

Theron finally blinked, as the seconds kept ticking by and electrical charge against the sabers continued to build. Only now did he notice the awkward silence around the table.

“Uhm.”

Kira remembered, some years ago, Corellan discovering that he had no real aptitude for the Tutaminis Force technique beyond the rudimentary level. This was not particularly remarkable; only a small percentage of Jedi – among them Grand Master Satele – were skilled enough in the art of energy absorption to harness the truly impressive effects, like absorbing Force lightning or deflecting a lightsaber blow with their bare hand.

(Kira had heard a rumor once back on Tython that some Jedi and Sith could even use the Force to freeze a discharged blaster bolt in mid-air for several minutes by using only their minds before releasing it with full effect on a target. She’d always assumed that story to have been a crock: no one could ever identify a single individual who’d performed the trick. If Kira herself had seen it, she wasn’t sure that even she would have believed it.)

Still, it was a bit of a surprise that Corellan hadn’t managed to at least become adequately skilled at it. Aside from his old friend Ulannium, he was probably familiar with more Force combat techniques than any other Jedi of their generation.

But learning this one particular feat had always alluded him.

Still, hours upon hours of training with Scourge and Kira were sure to pay dividends eventually. The grumpy old tomato had probably seen more combat between Force-users than anyone else living, aside from maybe the Emperor himself.

But when Corellan had discovered the capability of doing something even Scourge had never seen or heard of before, even the Sith Lord had been impressed. And on that fateful day more than a year ago when the three of them had attempted this move together in a secluded valley on Alderaan, the effects had been, well… shocking.

Despite nearly being electrocuted during the exercise, Scourge hadn’t even been mad. In fact, he was as close to pleased as Kira had ever seen him. Heck, the grumpy old tomato had almost smiled.

The very rage that was powering Kael’s lightning attack was also going to be his downfall. Even with that pool of anger to draw on, sustaining this continuous torrent of lightning would be physically and mentally exhausting. Further, it would blind him to the fact that the charge building against Corellan’s lightsabers was actually growing brighter.

Lightning was supposed to dissipate against lightsabers; Tutaminis or no, it wasn’t supposed to build up.

Through Kira’s Force bond with Corellan, she could feel the moment coming. The Hero of Tython was focusing all his attention on the power building within his crossed sabers. In a sense, it felt like a test of wills between the Jedi and the Sith.

Engaged as he was, there was no possible way that Corellan could redirect that power himself with any kind of precision.

Of course, if Corellan were properly attuned through a Force-bond to someone skillful enough… well.

When the instant arrived, Corellan didn’t need to say anything. He didn’t even need to project anything towards her.

Kira simply knew.

She thrust out her green lightsaber blade, crossing it with Corellan’s weapons at a precise angle that should have been impossible to calculate.

The resulting blast of Force power erupted from the built-up charge, and it launched itself towards Krannus, faster than any of them could process.

The Sith Lord screamed in pain, blasted by electricity of his own making.

It was part of what Scourge had taught them about orbalisks: They were vulnerable to concentrated electricity. They could resist an attacking Sith’s Force lightning adequately enough… but they could not resist the wielder’s own power.

Kira watched as Kael continued to scream, the orbalisks literally burning off his body as the Sith Lord struggled to break free, to no avail.

As the final surge struck him with all the power of a thunderbolt, the Emperor’s Wrath was knocked off his feet for the third and final time this day.

The lightning finally dissipated.

The Sith Lord lay there on the ground motionless.

It sounded to Kira as if nearly the entire battlefield had suddenly gone quiet. She could hear blaster fire somewhere in the distance, but it felt like the planet itself was holding its breath for whatever happened next.

Corellan lowered his lightsabers, deactivating them as he exhaled in exhaustion, barely able to stand.

And yet, the victorious Jedi Master was still standing.

Krannus wasn’t.

Tired though she was from her adrenaline high wearing off, Kira reached out to Corellan through the Force, offering him a gentle caress. His eyes closed for a moment in acceptance and soon, his breathing started to return to normal. She could feel him becoming rejuvenated and felt more than a little satisfaction that she could have this sort of impact on him without even touching him.

He didn’t even look back towards her. But then, he didn’t need to. She could feel his upswelling of appreciation and gratitude as if he had squeezed her hand.

Corellan finally stepped towards the fallen Kael Nosrol Krannus. Kira, acting on reflex, followed at his side, looking down at the beaten Sith.

The smell of cooked flesh was revolting as it reached her nostrils, and she could barely contain the nausea she felt. As they looked down at their fallen foe, Kira could almost imperceptibly observe the Sith’s chest rising and falling; his breaths were ragged and broken.

Krannus was dying. And he clearly knew it.

With his one good eye, the Emperor’s Wrath glared up at the Hero of Tython.

“Finish them, Jedi.” He snarled weakly. “Finish those who have deceived us.”

Kira understood immediately whom he meant, even as Corellan stood in place in stoic silence.

The Emperor.

And Revan.

The galaxy itself had been engulfed over an insane feud that dated back three centuries.

It had to end.

A final sigh escaped Kael’s lips as his head fell back, yellow eyes still open, looking skyward.

The Emperor’s Wrath was gone.

Back at Coalition headquarters, Theron had been standing by to give the order the moment Lord Kael fell. Before Krannus had even taken his last breath, the Republic agent had already toggled the open channel on his communicator.

“All Coalition forces – this is command.” He announced. “The Revanites are broken. General attack. Again, all troops, general attack. It’s time to finish this.”

Theron fell back in his field chair as the icons started to advance in earnest across the holo-map. If there had been any fight left in the Order, any faith in their leader’s mad plans, it had been spent the moment Krannus had fallen: They were running.

No more strategic planning would be needed. Not for commanding the troops, anyway.

“Whew.” Theron exhaled in relief. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that trick before.”

He beamed, looking up at the others.

All three pairs of Force-sensitive eyes around the table were still locked silently on the projection of Halcyon, Carsen and the body of Krannus.

Lana’s mouth had fallen open in shock for a long moment before she’d quickly composed herself, swallowing before letting out a breath. Satele’s eyes were clearly focused on the projection of Corellan, as if silently scrutinizing him for something only she could see. If she’d appeared concerned for her order’s young champion before, she was definitely rattled, now. Theron had long reasoned that part of the famed ‘Jedi mystique’ involved keeping one’s mouth shut when you didn’t actually have anything to say. Grand master Satele Shan certainly personified that approach. Meanwhile, hidden behind his mask, Marr’s throat made a sound that Theron couldn’t even begin to describe, nor did he think any human mouth should have been able to make.

Once again, it was Satele who seemed to regain her senses first.

“Deploy the medical teams to recover our wounded.” She ordered, reasserting herself, the very picture of decisive calm. “Alert the fleet in orbit to be on guard for fleeing transport ships. We cannot allow Revan or any of his followers to escape us again.”

Theron, blinking surprise at the reactions of the others, nodded in assent and relayed the instructions.

As the battle of Yavin came to an end, the SIS agent reflected on what he’d seen this day. Lana was certainly highly intelligent and knowledgeable concerning the Force, but it was their mutual superiors who’d captured his attention.

Satele and Marr were two of the most active and accomplished leaders of Jedi and Sith in history. They’d seen countless battles over the decades, fighting endless enemies. Between the two of them, they’d probably opened Force-knew how many holocrons or other ancient texts to expand their respective knowledge of the Force.

Neither of them had even recognized the orbalisk armor that Krannus had been wearing. And certainly neither of them had seen anything like the feat that Corellan Halcyon, at just twenty-seven years of age, had just performed with his former padawan.

Reflecting on that, Theron finally turned his attention back to the live feed of the duel that had just ended.

Halcyon and Carsen had turned their backs to the fallen Sith Lord and were now walking back in the direction of the Coalition lines even as their troops advanced the other way. Their part in the wider campaign was done.

As she followed a step behind and to the right of Corellan, he saw Kira turn and glance over at him, an expression in her eyes that he couldn’t quite interpret through the projection.

Theron was usually a loner by choice. It suited his personality. But just for a moment, he truly envied Corellan Halcyon for having a partner like Kira Carsen.

Minutes later, now standing just outside of Coalition headquarters, Kira stood across from Corellan.

Right this moment, she wanted so badly to grab him and kiss him. She would have shoved him back against the nearest tree and…

But it wasn’t the place or the time. Even in this moment of relative privacy, there were too many Republic and Imperial officers close by. Anyone could have been watching them.

Meanwhile, Satele, Theron and the Sith were waiting for him.

Revan was still out there, preparing to do Force-knows what. Regardless of whether or not it was really him behind the mask, he needed to be dealt with.

And beyond Revan was the Emperor.

As always, there was never enough time for them. And until they gave it up, there never would be.

Still, in this moment, Corellan had let the mask drop for a bit. The cold front he’d put up for the Sith. For Marr, Beniko and even Krannus. The ‘Hero’ personae he’d put up for Satele, Theron and the Republic. She alone could see the vulnerable man beneath the invincible hero.

That was enough for her. For now.

The development of Corellan’s “mask” meant she owed Scourge another ‘thank you’. As much as she loved Corellan, she’d been worried the Sith would exploit his blasted heroic nature for their own ends. So along the way, he’d learned to present the face of someone else for when he needed it; someone who could consistently throw his enemies off based on their expectations of what a Jedi even was. Between his Force camouflage and the public demeanor, they didn’t see him.

Kira had heard that Darth Marr claimed that the mask he wore was his face.

Right now, it felt like Corellan’s face was a mask.

On the flip side, he’d probably worried both of the Shans with how he’d been acting the last couple of days in front of the Sith and the Imperials. That would need addressing at some point, Kira knew.

But here, alone with her for this moment, he could allow himself to be vulnerable with her. More than that, he could be himself.

That moment couldn’t last, of course.

“You’ll tell him that its time?” he finally asked her.

I love you. Was what Kira heard.

“Yeah.” she nodded in agreement. “I’ll send ‘Big Red’ in.”

I love you, too. Kira had answered.

Without another word, she turned and left, feeling his gaze following behind her before he, too, took his leave.

“How did he do that?” Darth Marr nearly growled beneath his mask.

The Coalition forces had turned the victory over the Revanites into a route. But no one could have discerned that based on Marr’s mood in their headquarters.

“How did he even know about orbalisks? They haven’t been seen in the Empire in centuries! I barely recall even reading about them from some forbidden text in my youth!”

“My lord, please.” Lana beseeched her new boss. She’d had the presence of mind to dismiss the support staff so they wouldn’t be around to witness any ‘potentially difficult’ discussions. “I can begin making discreet inquiries once this current situation is concluded.”

Theron didn’t have any explanation that could have placated Marr and decided to himself that a snarky remark would be ill-timed right now. So he and Satele were quietly continuing to coordinate the mop-up effort while Lana attempted to defuse the situation with the frustrated Dark Councilor.

Marr paused, turning to glare down at the younger Sith.

“Talented as you are, Beniko, I doubt even your guile could determine how a young Jedi learned of long-forgotten Sith techniques.” Marr’s voice had leveled, but he couldn’t quite keep the slight hiss from his tone as he addressed his subordinate. Indeed, it was so intimidating, he probably hadn’t even tried. Regardless of how he felt about her right now, Theron didn’t envy Lana having Marr’s attention in the slightest.

Fortunately, they were interrupted before things escalated any further.

“’There is no ignorance, there is knowledge’, Lord Marr.” Halcyon’s voice echoed in the clearing as he approached the table, as he quoted the opening line of the Jedi Code, the same doctrine that Sith Lords so famously rejected with contempt. Clearly, the Jedi Master had overheard the conversation.

Theron found himself surprised that Corellan didn’t sound remotely smug; just coy. Aside from his singed robes, there was little sign he’d just fought the battle of his life. Indeed, if anything, he looked reenergized.

“You’ve returned.” Satele noted assessing him with a conciliatory nod. “Well done, Master Corellan.”

If she was still concerned with Corellan’s state, and Theron had to believe that she was, she was keeping it well-hidden in her voice behind a shield of formal compassion. Her veneer of calm was as unflappable as always.

Corellan turned to the famed leader of his order and bowed, crossing his arm across his chest in the Jedi salute.

“Master Satele.” He returned the formal greeting, bowing his head. “Thank you for approving the bombardment.” Corellan paused. “I regret there wasn’t time for me to sufficiently explain the plan earlier.”

Theron bit his lip, remembering their previous conversation.

“So we gathered.” The Grand Master assented. Their exchange was entirely civil, but Theron noted that it had not been entirely warm.

“Yes, let me second those congratulations, Master Jedi.” Lana stepped towards Corellan, giving him a surprisingly genuine smile. “It was a remarkable victory.”

She paused as if about to speak further, looking past Corellan towards the entrance.

“Will we be meeting your talented companion?”

Corellan returned her expression. Somehow, though, the smile he gave her didn’t quite reach his tired eyes.

“I’m afraid not, Lana.” He answered. “Knight Carsen was needed elsewhere. But thank you.”

Again, civil words. But delivered more formally than Theron would have expected from a man who was usually so open.

Corellan paused and looked around at the faces around the table.

“What’s our status?”

Theron, undistracted from the drama with Marr, had been ready for that line of inquiry.

“All units report success.” The SIS agent reported. “The weapon has been shut down and all the Revanites have been neutralized.”

He let that sink in, knowing what was coming next.

“Only one more left to deal with.”

Theron didn’t have to announce who that was. Lord Kael Nosrol Krannus had been all but invincible, but in the end, he’d just been a follower. There was no doubt in his mind that Revan had been the one who’d donned Krannus in the orbalisk armor in the first place. They’d be foolish to think their quarry didn’t have more surprises in store for his enemies, even with his army thoroughly beaten.

“Iven told us where Revan might go.” Satele reasoned. “The Emperor’s final sanctuary.”

A moment of silence fell across the table. Defeating the Order of Revan had been one thing. Defeating Revan himself – and possibly the Emperor, as well – was something else altogether.

Marr regarded Halcyon with what Theron could only assume was an appraising look beneath his metal mask. It felt like the Sith Lord was finally regarding the young Jedi Master with new eyes.

“You must realize, Master Halcyon, that if you embraced the dark side of the Force yourself, then no one in the galaxy would be able to stand in your way. Not even Revan.”

His voice felt like a viper slithering up Theron’s arm as he dangled the other, temptingly.

“You would be invincible.”

Satele’s eyes narrowed at the suggestion that her order’s champion could be corrupted in such a manner and even Lana looked downwards and shifted her feet uncomfortably. Theron found himself torn between the practical advantages of a dark-sided Corellan Halcyon and the fear he felt in contemplating the Jedi as a Sith Lord.

But Corellan Halcyon himself merely turned and regarded the towering Dark Councilor in turn. Marr stood at least five inches taller than the Jedi, but they might as well have been at eye level for all that mattered. The thinnest of smiles came to the Jedi’s lips.

“But then who would you find to stop me, Lord Marr?” he asked. “When I became too powerful to be contained and ruled your Empire for my own benefit?”

Theron watched as Marr’s powerful shoulders clenched at the barb. The reminder of what Vitiate, a veritable demigod ruling the Sith Empire for thirteen hundred years, had done was still fresh in everyone’s mind.

Before Marr could respond, the intelligence agent decided to change the subject.

“We could call in help.” Theron offered, eager to break the tension. “Havoc Squad could be here within a day. And Barsen’thor Kaarz reached out to ask if we needed his assistance, as well.”

He considered their other options, glancing towards Lana.

“We could even call in Xadya, the reigning Champion of the Great Hunt, if the Empire wanted to contract some Mandalorian help.”

There was a quiet pause around the table, then Corellan shook his head.

“Not enough time. Whatever Revan is planning with the Emperor, we don’t have a moment to waste.”

Theron just nodded in agreement. He was unsurprised when again no one attempted to contradict Corellan’s assessment of the situation. Glancing sideways at Satele, he could see the reluctant approval in her eyes as well. Her concerns for the young Jedi Master could wait.

“We’ve got speeders prepped.” he promised, turning back to Corellan. “Jakarro is insisting on joining us as well. You won’t be facing him alone.”

Corellan just nodded back to Theron gratefully.

“Then let’s finish this.”

Without another word, he turned and headed back towards the exit, his ruined robes flowing behind him like a hero from some holovid drama.

Theron watched him silently as the others began their preparations.

He wondered if Marr had been wrong in his estimation.

Corellan Halcyon was, by all outward appearances, already invincible.

Deep within the Temple of Sacrifice, a man behind a metal mask scowled as he witnessed his final roll of the dice come up short.

He’d known that Kael had been a blunt instrument given the state of mind the Sith Lord had been in, all but useless the moment a more refined response was called for. Nevertheless, had played the hand the Force had dealt him.

Now his followers were routed or fleeing. Even his personal guards, the Infinites, had been lost in that last assault.

The Order of Revan was finished.

That was unfortunate, but the cult had served its purpose getting him to this point. He was strong enough to complete his great work on his own no matter what these interlopers threw at him.

They might have been powerful. They might even believe that they were invincible.

But he was Revan.

TO BE CONTINUED

Author’s Notes: Full disclosure, a small chunk of the dialogue late in this story is pulled directly from the Shadow of Revan expansion, just before you go to face Revan near the end.

I’ve had this story in my Work-In-Progress writing journal for many years. At one point, I started to actually write a draft of it, then set it aside when the scope of the work started to become clear. It’s by far the longest thing I’ve written. That was two years ago. The final product involved going through many, many drafts, and has been a burden for these last three months.

It was the hardest writing project I’ve ever finished since I started writing fanfiction.

I remember one day thinking to myself ‘The Jedi Knight crew spends all this time together. What do they wind up talking about? What are their common interests?’ So I decided they talk a lot about combat. Rusk is a tactical specialist. Kira is an adrenaline junkie. Scourge is basically an ancient ninja. Doc is a field medic. Teeseven loves lightsabers. Corellan is Corellan. I imagined the group spent a lot of time designing maneuvers the way coaches draw up plays in American football and basketball. For the record, I do remember that when I fleshed out this idea, I had Skillet’s “Invincible” playing in the background. This piece was also partially inspired by the action scenes in the classic Deceived and The Return trailers.

This piece was originally planned as a chapter in a five-part series, with each piece featuring a point-of-view alternating between one of the Jedi Knight companions and one of the prominent NPCs involved in the S.O.R. story. (Lana and Teeseven would have been “paired” together, for example, like Theron and Kira were here.) That project wasn’t coming along, so this story is now a two-parter in that duology, with this chapter being the first. I’m fascinated by the idea of a story being told from the points of view of different characters who have different perspectives on the same scene based on their own understanding and preconceived notions. I touch on that concept for this chapter and I’m thinking I intend to make it even more pronounced in the next.

Writing action scenes is … still challenging for me. But I’m working on it.

We never see them in the actual SWTOR game story, but I head-canon that orbalisks are not commonly used in the “modern” Sith Empire, with even the knowledge of their existence a secret suppressed by the Emperor. By the time of the Shadow of Revan expansion, even knowledgeable Sith like Marr have barely heard of them. (Obviously, certain select individuals – such as a three-hundred year-old Sith Lord – are obviously more familiar.) I was tickled by the head-canon that Marr kept forbidden Sith texts under his pillow as a child. I know that many of you are not fans of Drew Karpyshyn, but I enjoyed his Darth Bane Trilogy. Those of you who have also read it will no doubt be familiar with some of my inspirations for this chapter. I wanted to introduce a special element into this fight and giving orbalisks to Lord Kael seemed to make sense to me.

Speaking of which, Kael Nosrol Krannus is one of my oldest OCs, dating back to when he was simply known as “Nosrol”. (Which sounded too much like one of the orcs from Warcraft for my tastes.) The literal intent of the character was to take (almost) every single dark-side choice available in the Sith Warrior Class and Imperial stories since I so often play light side. Simply put, he’s my token ‘edge-lord’, as terrible a trope as that is. But he was also a hardline Vitiate fanatic, and as such he fit the role here: when you shatter a fanatic’s faith in something, they don’t usually become a better-rounded person with a fresh perspective. They just find something else to be fanatical about. That development is about as interesting as the character gets. Other quick notes on Kael: First, ‘Lord Kael and the Infinites’ sounds like a good name for an 80’s death-metal band. (No, that wasn’t intentional.) Second, the game-play rule that Sith Warriors can’t make Force lightning is dumb. Third, his line of dialogue at the end is a reference to the Obi-Wan / Maul scene from Star Wars: Rebels, one of my favorite moments from that series.

Fun fact, the first reference to Theron in the actual game story comes from Kira Carsen herself, during a post-class story letter. I head-canon that Kira, in contrast to the discreet Corellan, frequently teases Theron about Satele being his mother. (She eventually quits teasing him after she joins the Eternal Alliance, but that comes much later.) Aside from his encounter with Orgus, Corellan didn’t team with Kira for much of the Forged Alliances / Shadow of Revan storyline, primarily because he was concerned about Lana or Satele or possibly even Revan himself putting two and two together concerning their relationship. Obviously, that weighs on my favorite one true pairing. Other notes on Kira: First, @taraum is the reason I have Kira calling Scourge ‘the Big Tomato’ and so on. Years later, I continue to be inspired by her work. Second, I’ve head-cannoned for a while that Kira loves the color purple and would change her lightsaber color to it if it didn’t make the other Jedi look at her suspiciously. (Lookup the story “Apex” on ff.net for my inspiration on that.) Third, SWTOR gameplay is weird. Regardless of the settings, companions often wind up acting like tanks in the fights, drawing the attention of mobs. So I have certainly seen enemies trying to gang up on Kira while I’m playing as Corellan, and they usually pay the price. Fourth, Kira’s Tutaminis rumor was a light dig at the opening scene from The Force Awakens with Kylo Ren. All jokes aside, it wasn’t a terrible film, but I can only look back on it now as a waste of potential knowing what was to come.

Theron’s obliviousness to Kira’s relationship with Corellan is just good, clean fun for me.

Unintentionally, I feel I’ve laid the groundwork for the Eternal Alliance storyline and the choices Lana, Theron and other characters wind up making concerning Corellan Halcyon as the future Outlander and Alliance Commander. On its surface, there aren’t a terrible number of reasons why Lana Beniko would ‘draft’ an Outlander like Corellan, who is probably a bit too idealistic for her tastes. The Corellan she sees here has a ruthless streak in addition to being an inspiring figure. That is the version of Corellan she wants to lead the revolt against Zakuul. (This naturally leads to some misunderstandings later on after she frees him. “Lana Beniko disapproves” indeed!)

I’ve alluded before that in my Legacy, Corellan and his crew met with Theron well before the events in the Forged Alliances story on a couple of “unofficial” missions. That story is even deeper in my WIP folder than this one was and probably will not see the light of day.

The Twi’lek Jedi and human Sith Lord who died fighting Kael are named Pol’fenn and Fen Huang. They are obviously minor supporting players here, but they are featured original characters in my Barith Legacy, where (obviously) they don’t meet their end fighting my favorite evil edge-lord. I might write about that “alternate timeline” legacy some other time.

My characterization of Satele Shan feels very passive in this story and that may draw some deserved criticism. I intend to address that in the next chapter.

I don’t know if any of you caught it, but there was an homage to the classic Dark Phoenix Saga story from the X-Men comics. It was just a bit of narrative text that always stuck with me, and it fit Kira and Corellan.

Stay tuned for “Part Two” of this story, titled Allies and coming… someday. I probably need a break from this series for awhile, but I’ll get to it. Kira won’t really be there, but Scourge and Satele definitely will be.

Thank you, and may the Force be with you.

- SWTORpadawan

Tagging interested parties: @a-master-procrastinator @abbee-normal @abysskeeper @actualanxiousswampwitch @ainyan @amons-hat-enthusiast @ancha-meadow @anchanted-one @atlanta--airport @beaut-ful-d-saster @blueburds-but-swtor @cassthechaoticmercenary @certified-anakinfucker @chaosandwonder @chokit-pyrus @cinlat @commander-krios @connoissuer-of-fine-vines @cryo-lily @darthsinister66 @depizan @dynlegacy @eorzeashan @freedim @girlstandstill @gmkelz11 @grandninjamasterren @inventedbyawriter @itstheelvenjedi @jayofolympus @jbnonsensework @justadreaminghufflepuff @karanan @kemendin @kgoblin @khrushchevs-corn-farm @lemonlinelights @lonewolfel @magicallulu7 @boggedfrog @misthios00 @mysterious-cuchulainn-x @nostalgiaaftersimming @rangerslayer-97 @oolathurman @pentacass @princessthriller @rogue-kenobi @sealeneee @shabre-legacy @shadowysthings @shynmighty @space-unicorn-dot @starknstarwars @sullustangin @taina-eny @taraum @the-jedi-knight-enjoyer @the-raven-of-highever @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @tishinada @velvetsunset @vexa-legacy @vihola @wackyart @what-we-fight-for @wilvarin-chan

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