Obsidian...
The identification number assigned during assembly, RSS-HIC002CSA.
The Republic fleet's combat unit registration number - RBA-9974-057CS.
A hyperspace interdictor cruiser, built by Sienar Republic Systems during the Mandalorian Wars. One of five ships of a new model that were accepted into the Second Republic Strike Fleet under the command of General Revan. And one of the cruisers that were used as a template for reproduction at the Star Forge's automated factory.
A ship built to intercept and destroy enemy forces. A war machine of terrifying power, capable of wiping an enemy from the face of any planet directly from space, preventing survivors from escaping into hyperspace, and finishing off the remnants of enemy troops. The alpha predator of the known part of the galaxy.
Obsidian... This name was given to it by its commander, who chose this particular Interdictor as the flagship for his flotilla.
It was this ship that went through the war with the Mandalorians all the way to Malachor V, and then led the Sith armada and helped conquer half of the Republic.
And on the bridge of this very cruiser, Revan... perished. Lost and cast down... Erased...
Betrayed by his own apprentice...
In the midst of a battle with a squad of Jedi who came for him...
A treacherous volley of turbolaser fire from the Leviathan at the Obsidian's bridge... Pain and darkness...
Revan was on the verge of death, and his path would have ended then and there if not for Bastila. The foolish idealist decided to save the life of the fallen Sith Lord and bring him to trial before the Council of the Order. It was only thanks to her attempts to heal his wounds and keep him in the world of the living that Revan got a chance at rebirth. Perhaps it was at that very moment, between him and Bastila, that the very connection appeared that would help them not lose themselves... and each other... more than once?
And yet, the resurrected Revan was already different. Even after he managed to overcome the Masters of the Order's influence and cast off the shackles of a false identity, he was already different from his former self. Whether for better or worse, he himself did not venture to assert.
The Revan who conquered the galaxy twice died with the Obsidian. The cruiser sustained critical damage and was supposed to crash onto the surface of a nameless planet, in orbit of which the betrayal of Malak occurred. Only, no matter how hard Revan tried to remember where it happened and whether the Obsidian was truly destroyed, he failed.
And now, thousands of years later, Revan found himself back aboard the ship that had witnessed his triumph... and his fall. It was a pity that the moment was not at all suitable for nostalgia. After all, the opponent frozen in a combat stance was unlikely to allow the former commander to simply stand and indulge in memories.
Which was confirmed in the next moment when the impostor swung his blade.
In the first second, as he turned around, Revan was stunned by how much his opponent resembled him. No, not the teenager whose body the former Jedi had been reborn into. Before him stood Darth Revan! The one he had been when he was the lord of his own Empire. The light chainmail armor, the durasteel chest plate with cortosis plating, the coal-black cloak with a deep hood, and the worn Mandalorian mask, copied exactly, down to the last detail, from his own. This was how he had looked in old holorecords from the time of the Jedi Civil War.
Except... the impostor, if one looked closely, was too... thin? Was it due to the poor lighting of the damaged ship's dark corridors, or was there something else here?
The opponent did not allow him to look closer, rushing at Revan like a whirlwind, showering him with a hail of blows. However, all of them were deflected or blocked by precise and elegant movements of the silver blade.
With mixed feelings, Revan noted that his double was quite fast and masterfully wielded the Juyo style, weaving an elegant combat pattern from the chaos and unpredictability of this form. Since his resurrection in Mizar's body, the former Sith had met someone so talented for the first time.
Revan himself didn't notice when he transitioned from a defensive stance to an offensive one, deciding to probe the opponent's defense. And he did not disappoint. Despite the fact that at the first moment, when the scarlet blade, instead of the expected sliding block of Makashi, fell into emptiness, drawing its owner with it, the opponent hesitated, he still managed to dodge the attack at the last moment. The silver blade only grazed the chest plate and cut the cloak. But he couldn't dodge the next lunge. And then the double surprised him again.
Revan, almost with regret, directed his blade under the opponent's left arm, preparing to inflict a non-fatal but very serious wound. He did not plan to kill, intending to get some answers about the staged spectacle. And, when the tip of the plasma loop was just over an inch from the vulnerable rib cage, unprotected by armor, the former Jedi felt resistance, as if the air had suddenly become thick. The sensations were all too familiar.
The impostor used the Force and tried to intercept the hand with the blade, but Revan did not allow him to carry out his plan. He was ready for such an attack and managed to neutralize the telekinetic effect in time with a counter-impulse, which forced the enemy to break distance.
The double's emotions flared with irritation. Exhaling loudly, he threw off the damaged cloak, a scrap of which could have caught his feet.
This gave Revan a chance to examine the opponent more closely. Well, he hadn't imagined it. The impostor was indeed too thin to match the original image. He was almost the same height as Revan's current body, meaning he was a head shorter than the version of the former Sith who had fought the Mandalorians. And his shoulders were too narrow...
The double took a step forward, and for a few moments, the light of the emergency lamp fell on him. At that moment, Revan understood what was wrong with the opponent.
It wasn't just about being thin or short. He was facing a woman!
The cloak and armor, combined with the darkness, had hidden her figure, but now everything was clear.
"That's why her voice sounded too high," Revan thought.
The opponent, or rather, the opponent, grabbed a second blade from her belt, in which the former Jedi recognized a thinner and shorter hilt of a lightsaber shoto.
"That's right. Jar'Kai. I used to use a short blade in tandem with my main one," Revan noted, assessing how convenient it would be to use a second sword in the narrow corridor of the starship.
The girl, meanwhile, attacked again.
The shoto flared purple and shot directly at Revan's chest. An open provocation to block the weapon arm when trying to block the strike. The former Jedi did not fall for this trick and turned his body to the right, letting the blade pass by. As expected, the scarlet blade followed the purple one. In the blink of an eye, the man delivered a short palm strike to the elbow of the hand holding the shoto, causing the girl to turn slightly, and deflected the second blade with his own sword, which threw the opponent off balance even more.
The girl turned her fall into a roll, escaping Revan's counter-attack.
Jumping to her feet, she spun sharply and launched a shockwave at the former Jedi directly from her blade, channeling a Force wave through the focusing crystal.
Despite the block, the blow pushed Revan back half a step, giving the impostor an extra half-second of respite. She took advantage of this, throwing the shoto at her opponent's head and lunging after it.
Revan let the purple blade pass over his head and met the girl with a series of furious strikes. Despite the fact that the opponent clearly used the Force to strengthen her body, she struggled to hold back the blows from an opponent of approximately equal build. And with each second, her movements became slower and more predictable.
A sudden sense of danger warned Revan of a threat from behind. The stranger telekinetically summoned her shoto, intending to catch the former Jedi off guard. When this failed, and Revan simply dodged the blow, the girl began to press the opponent again, sharply increasing the tempo.
Clashing with the girl in a dance of combat again and again, the former Jedi couldn't help but note that she was indeed trying to copy his style. She was *trying*, because she was succeeding with varying success. Whether she learned from Revan's combat holorecords, or tried to recreate his style herself from archival information, her movements lacked meaning. It was not enough to know the movement, not enough to practice it; one had to understand why it was done that way, and for what purpose the author had created it at all. Revan developed his style during training with Arren Kae, and then honed it in countless battles, getting rid of everything superfluous and adding what could help him save his own life and, at the same time, destroy his opponents. The impostor lacked this experience, which is why she expended far more energy than necessary and often nearly lost her balance, putting all her effort into a blow where a feint and a shift to the side would have been sufficient.
Whoever trained her, they specialized in a Force style, which did not suit this girl. She was too agile and fast, and these qualities were clearly inherited from nature. And therefore, by trying to slow down to take the correct position and put more force into the blow, the stranger only broke the entire combat pattern, losing tempo and any potential advantage. This only distorted the image further. And with each minute, Revan noted less and less resemblance to himself. Apart from the copy of the mask and possibly similar armor, there was nothing of the Darth Revan of old in the girl.
Clicking his tongue in disappointment, the former Jedi once again deflected the scarlet blade and kicked the shoto out of the girl's hand. However, he relaxed too much and almost missed an elbow strike directly to the mask, but he managed to tilt his head back and even counter-attack.
The silver blade, with a characteristic screech and flash, passed across the impostor's mask, leaving a diagonal glowing scar across the visor.
Jumping back, the stranger grabbed her mask with her free hand, but was in no hurry to remove it. Revan's sword had not pierced the inner layer of protection, which saved the girl from a terrible wound.
Running her fingers over the rapidly cooling indentation on the visor, the girl literally roared with rage.
"How dare you, you damned impostor!" she shouted.
Revan clearly felt the Darkness reach out to the opponent, obeying her will. The moment the first branching lightning bolts of the Force shot from her fingertips, the former Jedi was ready.
"Strong," Revan thought, taking the blow with an open palm, "But not strong enough."
The girl, overcome with rage, was completely unprepared for her own power to be used against her. Struck down by her own lightning, she was thrown against the wall. The blade that fell from her hand at the moment of impact, like its smaller brother, Revan pulled to himself and cut in half, disarming his opponent.
"Who are you?" the victor asked roughly, pointing the silver blade at the impostor.
The girl tried to concentrate the Force and get up, but Revan prevented this attempt, pinning her to the floor with telekinesis.
"I'll ask again, who are you? And remember, you won't hear this question a third time."
The stranger raised her head and looked at the former Jedi. Even though their faces were hidden by masks, Revan felt her gaze directed straight into his eyes.
"And who are you yourself?" the loser hissed.
There was no point in answering this question, but the former Jedi felt that he should answer.
"Revan," the victor said briefly.
"Impostor," the girl spat out with contempt and hatred.
"Says the one wearing a copy of my armor and mask," Revan retorted calmly.
Even a non-Force-sensitive would have felt the anger and irritation radiating from the stranger. The reaction was interesting. Whoever she was, she had an overly respectful... bordering on fanatical... attitude towards the former Sith Lord.
"I am the last of the Revanites! And you will pay dearly for desecrating our master's name!" the girl roared.
The next moment, Revan was forced to turn towards the opened door at the far end of the corridor. And in time. A sense of danger warned him of a threat just before the crowd of droids in Sith Stormtrooper armor, who burst into the corridor, opened a barrage of fire on the former Jedi.
There were only about fifteen of them, but the density of fire was impressive. Revan was forced into defense, preparing for a counter-attack. Just five seconds. Dodging the line of fire, deflecting the blaster bolts that still flew his way, and a crushing Force strike that destroyed the droids' internal circuits. And yet, it was enough.
Enough for the last of the Revanites to escape.
Revan wanted to give chase, but remembered the purpose of his visit in time. The holocrons.
The Sith pyramids were still in the captain's cabin. Literally five steps away.
Ensuring that the girl was definitely not nearby and sensing her presence on the way to the bridge, Revan contacted his companions.
"HK, I just encountered some Force-sensitive. Very talented," the former Jedi began, reaching for the cabin door with the Force, "She called herself the last of the Revanites. Do you know anything about them?"
Although Scourge had mentioned in their conversation that during Vitiate's Empire, a sect had emerged on Dromund Kaas that revered Revan as the embodiment of the Force's balance and the true Emperor, it was hard to believe that a cult could have lasted for thousands of years. Especially since, according to the pure-blood Sith, all followers of the new order were wiped out by the combined forces of the Republic and the Empire.
"Response: I have rather limited information on this matter, Master," the droid replied, "The Order of Revan was a secret society of adherents to unconventional teachings about Revan, that is, about you, Master. The Order revered you as a Force adept who always maintained a balance of Light and Darkness within himself. The philosophy of the Revanites was to follow Revan's paths as they understood them. They wanted to change the Sith Empire from within and bring balance to the Force into it. At least, that's what Master Satele Shan's records stated."
"What is known about the cult besides that? How long did it exist?"
Revan ripped open the door to the captain's cabin, triggering a booby trap meant for uninvited guests. Without losing vigilance for any new surprises, the former Jedi entered.
"Response: There are no exact details, Master. My memory contains fragments of information about the period of interaction with several people who called themselves Revanites, however, this sector of the core was damaged, making it impossible to restore a reliable picture of events," the droid reported, "Additional comment: Satele Shan's records mention the destruction of the organization, however, Master Shan expressed doubts regarding the capture of all members of the organization."
"What about the present time?" Revan asked, disarming another trap.
"Disappointed: I do not have the necessary information, Master. Encouragingly: However, perhaps the Mandalorian bag of meat has more information."
"Why would that be?" Kira joined the conversation.
"Response: It is reliably known that the Revanites were supported by the Mandalorian Clan Farr."
"And how many years have passed since then, tin can?" Nomad exclaimed indignantly.
"Evasive answer: It doesn't matter. Insistently: Mandalorian clans are known for their excellent survival rates and revere the continuity of generations, passing on the maximum of ancestral knowledge to their descendants."
"Over the years, many clans have degenerated or been destroyed," the mercenary persisted.
"Objection: Mandalorians continued the line of succession not only through blood relatives but also by accepting new members into the clan. Observation: You are a prime example of such a practice."
"Go to hell," Kira snapped back, "Although, damn it, I'll check my contacts. Maybe I'll find something about this Clan Farr."
"I would be grateful," Revan thanked her.
The holocrons were in a locked safe, the presence of which Revan did not recall in the captain's cabin, although he noted that the configuration and furnishings of the cabin did indeed match the one he had once lived in.
"HK, explain, why did you decide that this cruiser is the Obsidian?" Revan asked the droid again.
"Joyful response: R2-D2 entered the ship's network and retrieved information from the onboard computer and navigation system archives. Explanation: All registration numbers match the Republic cruiser Obsidian, which was under the command of General Revan."
"And how did it get here? Wasn't it destroyed?"
"Objection: There is no reliable information about the destruction of the Obsidian, Master. Explanation: There are records from the Republic heavy cruiser 'Swift' showing the cruiser descending from orbit with heavy damage."
"That doesn't explain how the ship ended up in orbit around another planet almost four thousand years later. What happened to it?"
"Response: Due to damage to the navigation system, it is impossible to determine the crash coordinates, nor to indicate the exact date of all systems shutdown, Master," the assassin droid replied, "Addendum: However, there is information about its reactivation at the Talann shipyards nine hundred and thirty-two standard years ago, where partial repairs were carried out. From there, the cruiser moved under its own power, but it stayed mainly in the border systems of the far frontier, avoiding contact with anyone, Master."
"A ghost ship."
"Affirmative."
Getting the accursed pyramids turned out to be quite simple. The traps set by the room's mistress were not designed for Force-sensitives. Disabling the mines and opening the safe took a couple of minutes.
And then, as the coveted artifacts floated into Revan's open palms, the assassin droid contacted him again.
"Worried: Master, R2 is still digging in the cruiser's network and he has discovered interference with the security protocols," HK said quickly, "Someone is trying to bypass the lockouts on the airlocks that prevent depressurization of decks where living organisms are present."
"Hutt!" exclaimed Revan, quickly realizing the danger.
Mentally, he admired the resourcefulness and recklessness of the last of the Revana. She was going to depressurize the ship! To completely deprive all compartments of atmosphere, throwing the uninvited guests into space! Such a trick would threaten the death of the entire crew and serious damage to the internal structures of the ship. If only the crew were alive!
As for the strength of the structures and their resistance to sudden changes in pressure and temperature... well, he admired her recklessness too. However, the risk was justified. The Interdictor was, after all, a war cruiser and could withstand a lot.
"Recommendation: Hurry, Master," HK reminded him, "R2 is slowing down the hacking process, but you don't have much time."
"I'm running! Prepare the Eagle for takeoff!" Revan threw, putting the holocrons in his pouch and running into the corridor.
Rushing through the cruiser's corridors, the former Jedi clearly heard bulkheads and compartment doors opening somewhere in the distance. Time was running out.
Twice, stormtrooper droids stood in his way, but their pathetic attempts to detain Revan were unsuccessful.
Already running into the hangar, the former Jedi saw the protective field separating the flight deck from outer space flicker. As soon as his feet touched the Eagle's cargo ramp, Revan felt something yank him sharply backward and upward. The atmosphere was leaving the cruiser's hangar and tried to drag the uninvited guest with it. Fortunately, the former Jedi managed to grab onto one of the ramp's racks, and then pull himself aboard with the Force.
Only after closing the cargo bay's maw and leaning against the wall did Revan allow himself to take a deep breath and exhale relaxedly.
"Warning: Master, the Obsidian is deploying its weapons," HK reported over the intercom.
The ship shook noticeably as the droid, obviously, made an evasive maneuver.
"Let's get out of here, HK!" Revan ordered, heading for the cockpit.
"Destination request?"
" Anywhere! Even to Mandalore!"
"Acknowledged."
Obsidian
On the partially restored bridge of the former Republic cruiser, there was only one living soul. The one who had taken the title of the last of the Revana. Standing surrounded by two dozen droids who had taken on the roles of the crew, the girl monotonously rubbed the melted mark on her mask and carefully watched the nimble cargo ship on the panoramic screen.
The scarlet streaks of the Interdictor's onboard weapons passed within meters of the scout ship's hull, but couldn't hit it.
With each miss, the girl's irritation grew, until after another maneuver, the freighter disappeared, activating its hyperdrive.
"Target lost," one of the droids in Imperial armor informed the girl.
"Atmosphere on board restored," another announced immediately.
Swearing barely audibly, the ship's commander gave the order to change course and exit the system, then left the bridge, heading for her cabin. Whatever the impostor came for, his target was her cabin.
However, she already had a guess. After all, the feeling of power emanating from the artifacts picked up from the remains of Malachor V was fading, as if the source was moving away.
The door torn from its hinges made it clear what she would see in her cabin. And the mangled safe was confirmation of that.
The holocrons were gone.
Roaring with anger and frustration, the girl punched the wall, leaving a decent dent in the panel. A wave of Force spread from it in all directions, sweeping everything in its path.
It was as if a hurricane had swept through the cabin, scattering things, sweeping datapads and holorecords from the shelf, and distorting furniture.
She had been outsmarted! The damned impostor had stolen the artifacts that the Lord had touched! How could she follow in his footsteps when the beacons had been stolen!
After calming down a bit and regaining clarity of thought, the girl decided to consult with someone she had left many years ago. She needed advice again...
Humiliating...
Summoning the holocommunicator into her palm and noting with annoyance that it had been damaged during her little tantrum, she still managed to make it work.
For a minute, nothing happened, until finally, a confident and clear voice of an unknown man sounded in the cabin. The image never appeared; the holographic emitter was too badly damaged.
"What could have happened for you to decide to contact me?"
"I need advice, teacher," the girl replied, suppressing her irritation.
"Show some respect," the unknown man said tiredly, "You left me without permission, and you're asking for help for the third time."
"Only for guidance."
"That's even more important," the man chuckled.
A pause hung in the air, lasting a full minute.
"I'm waiting," the unknown man said.
Apparently, only the emitter was faulty, because on the other side, the girl's image was transmitted without problems. Otherwise, how could the interlocutor guess what was happening in the cruiser's cabin.
Grinding her teeth, the girl sank to one knee and bowed her head.
"I humbly ask for your advice, mentor."
"Hmm," the man drawled, "How bad is it that you could so quickly suppress your pride?"
"An impostor, who has appropriated the Lord's name, has stolen the holocrons of the ancients from the Tria Academy," the girl said quickly.
"What?!" the stranger exclaimed, but immediately continued in a different, calmer tone, "Wait, you said 'impostor'."
"Yes, he dared..."
"What did he look like?" the man asked, not letting his student finish.
"Mandalorian armor, gray with black, a charcoal cloak with a hood, and a copy of the Lord's mask," the last of the Revana began to list, "He fought with a silver lightsaber and... is very strong."
"Silver colored?"
"Yes, mentor."
In response, the man laughed.
"Well, it's not as bad as you think," the unknown man continued after a few seconds of laughter, "The one who took the artifacts has only taken back what rightfully belongs to him."
"But..."
"And I would be careful about calling him an impostor."
At the last phrase, the girl fell into a stupor. The words wouldn't fit in her head. Because, if she believed her mentor, then it turns out...
"He... resurrected?!"