The former Dark Lord of the Sith sat atop a rocky outcrop, wrapped in his cloak, and meditated.
HK-47 had been tasked with moving their temporary sanctuary, the droid's hated "Dump," which was once again capable of hyper-travel, deeper into the desert. Revan still hadn't fully understood the assassin droid's intense dislike for the old freighter and hoped the mechanical sociopath wouldn't destroy the ship merely on principle.
However, that wasn't what he was contemplating now. He was concerned by the arrival of the two Jedi Order Knights, which raised many questions about their awareness and goals, but also offered certain opportunities. For example, a chance to understand what the Order had become, and perhaps even gain access to the Temple.
Appearing openly before the Light Side adepts would be an extremely foolish act, bordering on suicidal. Therefore, Revan had already discussed the matter with Anakin, to whom he had revealed part of the truth about himself.
The boy, who had set off for Watto's junk shop a few hours earlier with news of the contract's completion, was instructed to pretend he knew nothing about the Force, let alone the abilities of his new friend, Vaner. This was a precaution in case the Knights' target, as the former Sith Lord suspected, was Anakin himself.
Revan, in turn, intended to "accidentally" run into the Jedi on the street. Fortunately, he could clearly sense their presence while remaining unnoticed.
He even smirked at the fact that he could hide under the Council's nose for years. Unless, of course, they had acquired a good "sensor" in the Order, capable of catching even the slightest fluctuations in the Force. But that was rare.
Still, what was the reason for two representatives of the Order showing up on a backwater Outer Rim planet? Were they searching for Younglings? Entirely possible. A simple ship malfunction? Also plausible. Could the Masters have "sensed" the rebirth of an ancient entity? They certainly could have, provided they hadn't lost their skills.
The answers wouldn't come to him by themselves; Revan knew that very well. Which meant he had to work again, impersonating someone he was not.
But first, he needed a slight disguise. A man in Mandalorian armor and a mask, wearing a deep-hooded robe... personally, such an image would make Revan want to slice him from shoulder to waist. Just to be safe, no questions asked. He had met far too many questionable individuals like that in his past life. And every single one had tried to kill him.
Therefore, the armor was left aboard the departed ship. Only the mask was carefully hidden in a pouch. The lightsaber was still clipped to his belt, so it wasn't easily noticeable. As for the robe... this was the desert. Everyone traveling outside the city wears robes; they're convenient and offer protection from the sand. Just ask the Tusken Raiders or the Jawas.
And so, with the kind-hearted smile of a young hunter, Revan appeared in Mos Espa, precisely tracking the Jedi's location.
They had landed away from the spaceport, even outside the city limits, which was unusual. Leaving a ship in the desert on Tatooine was unsafe. Sandstorms, Raiders, marauding Jawas—these were only a fraction of the threats on this planet. Apparently, the pair of Knights needed to conceal their arrival. However, Jabba's people had undoubtedly spotted them, even if they couldn't pinpoint the landing site.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Revan checked the direction. And he didn't like it.
One of the Jedi was heading straight for Watto's junk shop.
The former Sith Lord walked toward the astute Toydarian's shop, contemplating how to act if the Order's envoys were after the boy.
Logically, he shouldn't interfere. Yet, the boy's fate concerned Revan for some reason, as if their lives were intertwined. And this worried him. The former Jedi had never truly had apprentices, and he sincerely hoped to avoid such a turn of events.
"And how often has the Force listened to your hopes?" the ancient Lord scoffed at his own naivete.
Suddenly, his sharp hearing caught a scuffle inside Watto's shop, which caused the experienced fighter to focus and prepare for a potential fight. However, peering inside, he saw only a strange, long-eared creature, which Revan, with some difficulty, recognized as a Naboo native, a Gungan, who was clearly "losing an uneven fight" with a small repair droid. The droid model wasn't known for great intelligence and had only a heavily limited information processing system... However, the Gungan couldn't boast even that level of intellect.
"Hit him in the nose!" Anakin shouted across the sales floor.
The Gungan, after ramming a couple more shelves, tripping over airspeeder parts, and shrieking non-stop, finally managed to follow the instruction. The droid "folded" and entered inactive mode.
A dark-haired young woman in "carefully selected simple clothes," which betrayed an awkward attempt to disguise herself as a space traveler, watched all this with a smile. Yet, her clothes were spotless, and Naboo linen, famous for its distinctive texture due to a special weaving method, was prized even during Revan's Empire. So, guessing where the stranger, accompanied by a Gungan, had come from was not difficult.
"Looks like you're having fun, Ani!" the former Sith Lord stepped inside, putting on a welcoming smile.
The boy, who had spotted his friend a minute ago, turned to the entrance and smiled back.
"Hi, Vaner!" he waved in greeting. "Watto and I finally have customers."
"Straight from Naboo, as I see it?" Revan couldn't resist a subtle jab at the visitors' poor disguise.
"How did you..." the girl started to ask, but the former Jedi preempted her question by simply pointing at the clumsy alien.
"That's a Gungan, isn't it?"
"Meesa name Jar Jar!" the Naboo native nodded happily.
Revan immediately realized that this creature was a walking disaster and a constant source of trouble. And judging by the latest knocked-over shelf, he was right.
"And you?" the girl narrowed her eyes.
She looked no older than fifteen, but her gaze was quite sharp.
"This is Vaner, my friend," Anakin introduced the former Sith Lord. "He's a hunter, and like you, he's stranded on Tatooine. And this is Padmé."
"Very pleased to meet you, Padmé," Revan bowed slightly.
"Likewise, Vaner," the girl reflexively bowed back.
'Hmm, manners are deeply ingrained. She returned the bow without thinking. She must have been raised in a noble family or serves in one,' the former Jedi noted.
"So, you two flew in from Naboo?" Revan asked casually. "And, as I gather, you have ship trouble?"
At the mention of the planet, the girl tensed slightly. The subject was somehow unsettling for her. Perhaps she had to flee the planet? Or did a Jedi take her as a Force-sensitive?
'No, she's too old, and I don't feel the Force in her. Only the basic aura inherent to all living things. So, she's not Force-sensitive,' the ancient Lord quickly assessed. 'Therefore, an escape? A maid's romance with a nobleman? Or, on the contrary, the flight of royalty?'
"I am a handmaiden in the house of a noble family," Padmé finally spoke, having decided on an answer. "And yes, we need to repair our ship."
"Oh!" Revan feigned excitement. "And I just happen to be an excellent mechanic! I'd be happy to help with the repairs if you could give me a ride to any other planet. Even Ryloth! I don't care, but I'm sick of this dusty ball!"
The girl was slightly taken aback by his eagerness but quickly regained her composure.
"I'm just a handmaiden," she lowered her eyes slightly.
'Oh, how theatrical!' the former Jedi almost rolled his eyes.
"But surely you can introduce me to the person who makes the decisions?" he gave a master class in acting, injecting his voice with so much plea and hidden hope that it would make even the Hutts weep.
The shift to the familiar address was deliberate, intended to swiftly close the distance. [TN: The address is more obvious in the original language.]
"I... um... yes, I suppose so," Padmé stammered. "But... are you, like Anakin... umm..."
"What?" Revan asked, feigning confusion.
"Well, are you also not free?" she tried to hint again.
The former Sith Lord's eyes widened, and he turned to Skywalker, feigning intense surprise.
"I didn't know you had a girlfriend already!" he gasped, making the boy blush.
"That's not what she meant!" Anakin immediately blurted out.
A moment later, the realization dawned on Padmé, making her turn crimson too.
"I didn't mean that!" she waved her hands. "I meant that Anakin... he's... a slave."
Internally chuckling at how easily he had breached the girl's defenses and gained her trust, Revan congratulated himself on not losing his psychological skills. All it took was to shock, confuse, distract, and voilà, she was already using the familiar address and felt she was the cause of the awkward situation. As Master Kreia once said, "Nothing draws people together like a shared problem, especially one with a sexual subtext."
"Ah, you meant that," the ancient manipulator said, feigning embarrassment as well. "I am absolutely free. In every sense."
And he gave a broad, toothy smile, making the girl blush even deeper.
"Hey!" Skywalker protested. "In that sense, I'm free too!"
Padmé looked ready to sink through the floor, but she gradually remembered her upbringing and diligently worked to restore her composure.
"Oh, I apologize." Revan raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "I make no claim."
"Me too free!" the Gungan suddenly interjected, whose adequacy the former Sith no longer just doubted but was certain of its absence.
To break the awkwardness and continue the acquaintance, Vaner began asking Padmé various meaningless questions. About the flight, Naboo linen, the Gungan's strange behavior, and other trifles. At least, that's what the girl thought. In reality, a subtle process of information gathering was underway. And the girl provided it without even realizing it.
From the slips of the tongue, the unfinished sentences, and the vague answers, Revan understood that some conflict had occurred on Naboo, forcing Padmé's family to flee. The Gungan had attached himself to a certain Qui-Gon. The girl nearly called him a Master, but the timely "swallowed" title, quickly replaced with "Mister," was enough. So, one of the Jedi was named Qui-Gon Jinn. And he was, apparently, a Master. However, to common people, all Jedi are Masters. Yet, Revan himself suspected something similar. The aura of this particular Force-sensitive was too characteristically powerful.
And just then, a tall Human male in a worn-out farmer's poncho, under which the traditional Jedi robe was easily recognizable, appeared from the passage leading to the courtyard, accompanied by a barrel-shaped Astromech.
The disguise was decent, but careless. Overall, the Jedi looked quite young, no older than forty. But that was only his appearance. And, as Revan well knew, looks can be very deceiving. Dark, long hair with a slight graying that did not match his young face, a neat beard, and incredibly wise, dark-blue eyes—that's what immediately stood out to the ancient Lord.
'That look cannot belong to a young Knight. Which means he is already a Master, and significantly older than his appearance suggests,' Revan thought.
The droid, having noticed the stranger, warned the Jedi. Qui-Gon, apparently deep in thought, only now raised his gaze to the newcomer.
"This is my friend, Vaner." Anakin introduced the former Sith Lord.
"Pleasure to meet you," the ancient one nodded slightly.
"Likewise," the Light Side adept replied with a nod. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn."
Revan felt a faint wave of the Force pass through his body.
'He's testing me,' he thought. 'Clever.'
"Well, let's go. We'll look for a hyperdrive in another shop," the Jedi announced, turning toward the exit.
The Gungan reacted with a stream of complaints and lamentations. Padmé gave Anakin a warm, friendly farewell and scurried after Qui-Gon. The Astromech rolled out last.
Revan noted to himself that he didn't like the new barrel-like series of droids. Especially after similar mechanical fellows had thrown his corpse into an incinerator.
'Ah, too bad the T3 series was discontinued,' he thought wistfully.
The Toydarian flew into the room, and without the armor and mask, he did not recognize the fifteen-year-old boy as a menacing representative of the Blood Claws criminal clan. And so, he immediately rushed to hawk some moisture vaporators to him. Apparently, the young man gave the impression of a farmer.
Learning, however, that this was just Anakin's friend who wasn't particularly solvent, Watto ushered Revan out of the shop with a persistent request to only return when he had money. However, Anakin followed almost immediately. As it turned out, the old merchant had decided to let the boy off early.
Judging by Skywalker's impatient twitching, he was eager to follow the Jedi. And it wasn't even about the representative of the ancient Order himself, but his company. The very attractive young company named Padmé. Revan clearly sensed the affection that had sprung up in the boy for the girl... or was she still a girl? By age, definitely a girl.
"No older than me in this current body," the former Jedi mused.
Yielding to Anakin's persuasion, they decided to follow the Naboo travelers and the Jedi, who were stranded on Tatooine. From his own experience, Revan knew well that getting into trouble here was a five-minute affair.
And so it happened. About half an hour into their discreet tailing of the foreigners scurrying from shop to shop, the latter got into a jam. More precisely, the Gungan got into a jam, attempting to subtly pilfer the carcass of some small animal, but instead launching it at a dining Dug. This species, the Dugs, was never known for its patience. So, a flash of righteous anger followed immediately. And had Anakin and Revan not intervened, things would have ended badly for Jar Jar. At the very least, his skull would have been severely dented.
"Careful, Sebulba," Ani began in Hutt-speak. "He's an important alien. Watch out, or you might get sliced right before the races."
Revan had already heard about the Boonta Eve Classic races from the armor merchant. And a plan was already forming in his mind on how to test the young Force-sensitive's abilities in practice, and even earn some money in the process. He might even be able to get the Skywalkers out of slavery without involving the Claws, who might balk. Especially if Watto did run off to complain to the Hutts about the tyranny of their vassals.
The Dug wouldn't listen to reason, so the ancient Lord had to step in.
"Sebulba," he whispered quietly, moving right up to the long-snouted alien whose species clearly confused hands and feet. "You haven't, by chance, indebted yourself to the Blood Claws, have you?"
Judging by the abruptly clamped mouth and wide eyes, he had hit the bullseye.
"Rumor has it that the hairy one over there," Revan nodded toward Qui-Gon, "recently struck up a partnership with their leader. And that floppy-eared fellow is a future representative of the clan in a neighboring sector. Don't let his foolish look deceive you, he's a good infiltrator."
The alien was shaken. His eyes blinking rapidly, he shifted his gaze from the Jedi to the Gungan, clearly trying to decide what to do. Or perhaps determining the depth of the trouble he had gotten himself into.
"You should leave, for your own good, before they recover," the former Sith Lord advised him.
The interlocutor swallowed hard and nodded.
Throwing a parting sarcastic remark about Anakin's racing skills, the Dug hurried away, forgetting even his unfinished meal.
After receiving thanks from Qui-Gon, Revan and Skywalker offered to escort the foreigners so they wouldn't run into trouble again.
According to an old woman selling dried fruit, a sandstorm was approaching. That meant they urgently needed to find shelter. Anakin explained how terrible such local weather tantrums could be and suggested they wait it out at his place, since it was very close.
Everyone agreed. Revan was doubly pleased with this fact, as it presented a good opportunity to talk to the Jedi.
At the Skywalkers' home, they were greeted by Shmi, Ani's mother. The dark-haired woman had not yet lost her former beauty, but age was beginning to take its toll. And life in slavery did nothing for one's well-being or complexion. She reminded Revan of one of the instructors at the Jedi Enclave on Dantooine. Perhaps it was the stern but caring look in her brown eyes.
Strangely enough, Shmi calmly accepted the "raid" of strangers into her home and welcomed everyone hospitably. Anakin dragged Padmé away to show off the droid he had been building for several years. The Astromech, named R2-D2, rolled after them, apparently interested in the boy's technical talents.
After calming the Gungan down somehow and setting him to a socially useful task—cleaning local vegetables for dinner—the Jedi and the former Sith Lord began helping the hostess set the table.
"Qui-Gon, are you a Jedi?" Revan asked when the hilt of the lightsaber briefly showed from beneath the poncho.
Realizing his slip-up, Jinn tried to deflect the question.
"Why would you think that, Vaner?"
"You have a... laser sword hanging on your belt," the ancient Lord corrected himself just in time, remembering that few knew the correct name for the Force-adepts' weapon. "That's a Jedi weapon, isn't it?"
"Perhaps I killed a Jedi and took his sword?" Qui-Gon smirked.
'Yeah, he just took it and killed one,' Revan chuckled inwardly.
"No one can kill a Jedi," Anakin, who had appeared from the far corridor, interjected.
"Ah, if only that were true," the Jedi and the former Sith Lord said simultaneously.
Jinn glanced sideways at Vaner and narrowed his eyes. And the ancient one mentally chastised himself for such a stupid slip-up. He needed an out and a way to deflect suspicion.
"My mother told me that my real father was a Jedi who died shortly after," Revan quickly changed his heartbreaking story.
"And who was he?" the Jedi asked, subtly probing the young man with the Force again. "Did your mother tell you his name?"
"No," the former Sith Lord replied, pulling his Force-cloak tighter around himself. "She didn't talk much about him."
"Did the Order's seekers never visit you?" Jinn continued his questioning.
"No," Revan shook his head, trying to make a sad face. "As my mother told me, I didn't inherit my father's talents."
"That happens," Qui-Gon nodded, visibly relaxing.
Anakin took the initiative next, beginning to question the Jedi about the Order, for which the ancient Sith was ready to kiss the boy. He absorbed the answers, analyzing the hidden information within them—the way Jinn talked about the Force, the Force-sensitive, and the structure of the Order. From everything said, Revan concluded that Qui-Gon was not an entirely orthodox Jedi Master and did not blindly follow the dogmas. In this, he reminded him of the "greatest rogue Knight" who went off to defend the Republic during the Mandalorian Wars.
The evening proved to be enlightening. And though Revan couldn't openly ask questions, he pushed Anakin to do so with his comments and hints. There was still much to find out, but some things became clear. And they were far from encouraging.
However, there was one clearly positive outcome to this impromptu gathering. Anakin, with the strong support of the old Sith, proposed a way out of the current situation to Qui-Gon. All that was needed was to provoke Watto into a bet for the upcoming races and put Skywalker in as a participant.
Revan added that Ani had simply superhuman reflexes and was sure to win, which interested the Jedi.
The ancient Lord had no doubt that Qui-Gon would perform a midichlorian count that very day and figure out just how powerful a Force-sensitive the boy was.
It only remained to hint that the bet could include the freedom of the boy and his mother, and voilà. The plan was ready, and Revan quietly smirked, proud that he hadn't lost all his skills as a Sith schemer. What was a ruler of his own Empire without that?
The next morning, HK-47, who had arrived on a speeder at his Master's request, found him in an alley near Watto's junk shop, methodically banging his forehead against the wall.
Thump... thump... thump...
HK: "Concerned: Master, have you decided to terminate functionality prematurely?" the droid inquired.
"No, HK, I'm just trying to let the fact sink in that in 4,000 years, the once mighty Order, the mere mention of which would make even the Mandalorians sweat, has become but a pale shadow."
Thump... thump...
HK: "Sympathetically: I understand, Master. I too cannot process the information that in 4,000 years, not a single new method for eliminating bothersome meatbags has been invented," HK hinted at the absence of fundamentally new blasters in the local markets.
Revan gestured to the wall next to him.
"Join in," he said succinctly.
Thump... clang... thump... clang...
"There were hundreds of thousands of Jedi once in the galaxy!" the fallen Knight mumbled. "And now there are two orders of magnitude fewer! Out of a dozen Enclaves and Temples, only one remains!"
Thump... clang...
HK: "Dejectedly: Besides Mandalorian blasters, there is nothing worthwhile," the droid echoed. "No progress!"
Thump... clang...
"Does it help?" the ancient Sith asked.
"Negative."
"Me neither," Revan replied disappointedly. "Did you bring everything?"
Clang...
HK: "Affirmatively: Yes, Master. Your belongings are in the speeder's cargo bay," HK answered, hitting his head against the wall one more time, chipping off a piece of limestone plaster.
"Hey! You two!" an irritated voice came from somewhere above—a Twi'lek, judging by the fleeting glimpse of his lekku. "Stop drumming on the wall, or I'm coming down and turning you into Bantha fodder!"
"HK," Revan requested, his eyes flashing toward the disturbance, which had interrupted his "peculiar meditation."
HK: "Threateningly: Shut your gullet, gut-headed filth! Or I will paint every wall in this quarter with your internals!" the droid snarled.
The tenant, apparently preferring to remain a "tenant," instantly fell silent.
The former Jedi raised his eyebrows in surprise.
HK: "Proud Explanation: I updated the idiomatic expression database."
Revan merely grunted in approval and walked to the speeder.
Donning his armor and mask, the ancient Lord walked into Watto's shop to hint to him how he should behave with Qui-Gon. Namely, not to be obstinate and to accept the bet, for which he would later be rewarded by the Claws. And if the Toydarian wasn't greedy, they would even tell him who to bet on in the upcoming race. The merchant quickly grasped the gist and assured him that he would do everything perfectly.
On his way out of the shop, Revan nearly bumped into Qui-Gon, and so he quickly dissolved into the crowd, simultaneously activating his Force camouflage. This technique was favored by the Inquisitors of the old Sith Empire, and the former Jedi had not disdained to learn it in his time.
Having removed his armor again and transformed back into Vaner Shan, the ancient Lord rejoined Anakin and company, who were busy restoring the old but quite fast Podracer.
Revan found pleasure in tinkering with the engines and electronics of the speed machine. Memories surfaced of his own swoop bike races on the surface of the same Tatooine, Manaan, and Taris. Those were good times when he temporarily forgot about hunting Malak and searching for the Star Forge.
And if not for the foolish antics of the Gungan, constantly exposing himself to exhaust jet streams, or electrical arcs, or something else entirely, the past day could have been called peaceful and relaxing.
By evening, through combined efforts, the Podracer was brought to a satisfactory condition.
Everyone had already gone to sleep when Revan suddenly sensed the approach of a dark aura toward the city. The fact that he hadn't sensed the dark presence earlier, upon its approach to the planet, already suggested that the unwelcome guest knew how to conceal his presence.
Quickly descending into the alley where HK was guarding the captured speeder, the ancient Sith donned his armor and tried to pinpoint the stranger's position. Determining the direction, Revan jumped into the speeder and sped off.
Their meeting occurred right at the city's border. A black figure in a robe was examining a damaged probe droid that someone had punctured with a precise blaster shot. His movements were very fluid and precise, betraying an experienced fighter. And judging by the aura, he was indeed a Sith. If any light flickered in his soul, it was buried very deep. However, even such a Dark Side adept could be useful. It remained to determine a few important points.
"Good evening," Revan called out from the darkness of the alley.
The figure in the robe instantly performed a backflip and drew a lightsaber. The crimson blade illuminated a small patch of ground around the dark sider. The ancient Lord automatically noted that the saber hilt was too long for a simple one-handed model. Therefore, he was facing a lightsaber staff user.
"Show yourself!" the Sith demanded.
'He doesn't sense me at all?' Revan wondered, dropping his camouflage.
"Who are you?" The crimson blade immediately swung toward the opponent who had emerged from the darkness.
"Me?" the stranger smirked under the Mandalorian mask. "Call me Lord."
"Lord?" the enemy spat with contempt. "Too much honor for a Jedi filth!"
The blade's light fell on the face under the hood. It was a Zabrak with black and red markings on his skin and glittering yellow irises.
"Why do you think I'm a Jedi?" Revan asked, barely suppressing a laugh.
"I feel the Force in you! And the Light!" the Sith flared up. "You are a Jedi!"
The ancient one suppressed the urge to strike the mask's visor with his armored glove.
'Have the Sith of this era completely devolved?' he thought.
Judging by the opponent's savage snarl, he wasn't very inclined toward negotiation and hadn't attacked yet because he was still assessing his potential victim.
Revan sighed wearily and lowered his hand to his belt.
"I assume we won't be having a constructive dialogue yet?" he clarified just in case.
"I have nothing to discuss with Jedi."
"Yes, right. We've heard that one before," the ancient one interrupted his interlocutor with obvious sarcasm.
In the very next second, the Zabrak leaped at him, delivering a sweeping overhead strike. Revan dodged sideways, simultaneously activating his own lightsaber. The silver blade added light to the wide alley while immediately taking a series of blows that followed the first.
An experienced duelist, the former Sith Lord habitually retreated into a complete defense, combining the forms of Makashi and Soresu, studying his opponent and formulating a battle plan. The aggressive lunges, cunning combinations, and unexpected feints clearly indicated that the Zabrak was using the Seventh Form, Juyo, as the basis of his style. Coupled with the young Zabrak's good athletic abilities, this forced Revan to move actively to block the blows in time or avoid them.
Catching the latest thrust on a sliding block, the Knight of the Old Republic made a wide swing with his blade, grazing his opponent's right shoulder, and immediately rolled out of the way of the counterattack.
The opponents separated. The Zabrak hissed in pain, clutching the cauterized wound. Revan, on the other hand, hadn't even broken a sweat, using his strength efficiently.
"So where are you from, kid? Iridonia?" the ancient one used the pause for conversation.
"None of your business!" the Sith snarled.
"I'm just curious where such a gifted swordsman hails from," the experienced schemer threw in a bit of flattery. "Don't you want your opponent to know his executioner's name before he dies? For the terror in his eyes to have a title?"
The Zabrak's eyes flashed yellow. He clearly yearned for this. Dark Side adepts, especially young ones, were so easily provoked.
"My name is Darth Maul!" the enemy proudly raised his chin.
Revan noted that he could have easily sliced off the horned head with one precise blade throw at that very moment.
"Darth?" the former Sith Lord repeated.
The opponent only sneered in response.
Under the mask, Revan frowned. This was sheer impudence. To claim the title of Darth while being a snot-nosed acolyte in terms of power and training. Even if he was quite capable, gifted in swordsmanship, and able to conceal his aura better than Qui-Gon Jinn, he was still just that! By the standards of the old Sith Empire, he was only an acolyte! He didn't even qualify as a Lord.
The next moment, a Force push flew at Revan, apparently intended to knock him off his feet. The ancient Lord simply absorbed the blow, taking the impact directly.
Maul's astonished face provoked another sigh of disappointment, and the former Dark Lord couldn't help himself, striking his helmet's brow with a sharp clack of his gauntlet.
"The simplest, most basic technique of absorption, also known as Resistance," he commented calmly. "Second-year Youngling training. It allows one to block or absorb direct kinetic waves and relatively weak Force techniques."
The Sith rushed to attack with a roar, clearly believing he was being mocked.
The new flurry of blows was parried with ease, as Revan now read his opponent's movements without difficulty.
Suddenly, a second crimson blade ignited, and Maul accelerated with a triumphant cackle. However, his lightsaber staff was pressed against the ground in a rigid block, and the armored mask smashed directly into the painted face.
"The lightsaber staff is vastly overrated," Revan commented calmly while his opponent picked himself up. "I told Bastila that a thousand times. Just because you have two blades doesn't mean you have an advantage. You can only grip the center section, which doesn't give you a gain in weapon length. And the fact that the blades are rigidly fixed on one line means the second blade is easily tracked by the position of the first."
"Shut up!" the Zabrak roared, charging back into the fray.
Lunge, spring-back, wide swing, and a rapid series of strikes from different angles. Revan evaded most, blocking only a small fraction, and countered with several quick strikes and a sudden dash behind his opponent. No matter how the enemy tried to prevent it, he missed the blow to his leg. The silver blade pricked his thigh, piercing clean through.
The ancient Lord noted that his opponent was hardly using any Dark Side techniques, save for minor physical enhancement and a weak surge of Dark Rage.
'Maybe he doesn't know how?' he thought, ducking under another strike.
Deciding to test his theory, Revan channeled Force Lightning through his blade and struck his opponent with a wide electrical discharge. The Sith, who had dodged to the side, did not expect the purple lightning that broke off the end of the plasma arc to reach him.
However, to the former Jedi's surprise, the Zabrak stoically endured the pain and even managed to quickly overcome the spasms. This suggested that his Master often used lightning as punishment.
"How typical," he scoffed.
The assassin was gradually tiring; it was palpable. As a master of Form VII, Revan knew perfectly well how quickly Juyo exhausts the user if they don't continually channel the Force. The Sith had apparently lost concentration and was increasingly giving in to fear. Clearly, he hadn't expected to meet such an adversary.
"Well then, perhaps we can talk now?" Revan offered. "As you can probably tell, I'm not exactly a Jedi."
Lightning shot from the ancient one's fingers and struck the sand at the Zabrak's feet, demonstrating that the Dark Side was his ally too.
"Who are you?" the opponent asked, a hint of interest breaking through the hatred in his voice.
"Someone who wouldn't mind having a conversation with your Master," Revan demonstratively deactivated his lightsaber.
"What?"
"Are you having trouble hearing too?" the ancient one pressed with the Force, causing the Zabrak to gasp for breath. "I didn't hit you in the ears, as far as I recall."
"You... a Sith Lord?" Maul rasped.
'By your mother's name! Are they all completely deaf in this era?' the former Jedi roared internally.
"I am something more," he replied, bringing his anger back under control.
The Zabrak turned off his weapon.
"I see you realize it's too early for you to contend with me," Revan tilted his head slightly.
"Yes," Maul nodded. "I am not foolish enough to go against such a master. Especially without my teacher's command."
"Listen to me very carefully," the ancient one pressed again with the Force. "You will leave Tatooine and deliver a message from me to your... teacher. If the Sith haven't completely dulled their minds, he's sitting somewhere close to the center of power. Which means he can meet me on Coruscant. I'm setting a meeting there. We will arrange the date and time via your communicator, the contact for which you will give me now."
"But..."
"Forget the Jedi. They are under my protection... for now."
"Fine," Maul choked out, unable to withstand such a Force push from so powerful a Force-sensitive.
Pressing several buttons on his wrist-mounted control panel, the Sith pulled out a plastic card with an identifier and hurled it at Revan. The latter caught it with the Force and drew it into his open palm.
"May I go?"
"Yes," the victor nodded. "And consider whether it's time to change a teacher who can't properly train his apprentice."
The Zabrak froze for a moment, then gave a respectful bow and hobbled toward his speeder.
Watching the flying vehicle's silhouette disappear toward the horizon, Revan wondered if he had done the right thing by letting the dark sider go. On one hand, it was a mistake. Any enemy not killed today will return stronger tomorrow and try to take revenge. Such is the Sith way.
But on the other hand, the boy had potential, and he could still be forged into an ally. Strangely enough, one can almost always turn a dark sider into a balanced light sider. He knows the Dark Side and can resist its temptations. But the Jedi, raised in hothouse conditions... when faced with the darkness, they don't even understand what to expect. And as a result, they simply lose their minds, becoming the very mad monsters with which Padawans are scared.
Lost in thought, Revan almost missed the rapid approach of another Force-sensitive's aura. Realizing that they were moving toward him, and close now, he reflexively activated his blade, turning to face the threat and dropping into the primary stance of Form VII.
The silver blade pointed directly at the chest of Qui-Gon Jinn, who was gripping the hilt of his green lightsaber. His face showed surprise mixed with disbelief. And a second later, it was replaced by outright shock.
"That mask... that aura... it can't be..." the Jedi whispered.
Revan cursed internally, realizing that not everyone in the Order had forgotten the ancient legends.
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