The isolated wing of the Naboo capital's palace complex, proudly called the Royal Medical Center, was equipped with everything necessary to provide urgent and, most importantly, qualified medical assistance to patients with any injury or disease. The best equipment in the sector, the latest models of medical droids, comfortable rooms, and a spacious park with fountains in the rehabilitation area—all of this was designed to help patients recover and restore health as quickly as possible.
However, the atmosphere in Room 6 at that moment was far from peacefully serene.
Qui-Gon Jinn lay on the hospital bed, resting after surgery, flanked by two young men who could still be called adolescents. While one stood in a pointedly relaxed posture, a faint smile playing on his lips as he observed his interlocutor, the second tensely gripped the hilt of the lightsaber hanging from his belt, ready to begin a fight at any second.
Obi-Wan had agreed to hold his questions until his Master had received medical attention. Now, however, several hours after the battle with the Sith in the plasma mines, the young Padawan was determined to get answers.
Revan found the situation frankly amusing. Yes, in the moment he accepted Maul's oath, he had completely forgotten how the attending Jedi might react. Yet, he could not have acted differently. The alternative would have been the death of a talented Force-sensitive who merely needed guidance before becoming utterly lost to the darkness.
Besides... it was the will of the Force. Destiny, providence, a happy coincidence, fate, or whatever the peoples of the galaxy called it, the former Jedi clearly understood what it truly was. There are no accidents, there is only the Force.
The situation was awkward, but it could still be rectified. Entering into conflict with the Order was unacceptable. For now, at least. Even if the Jedi had lost their form and combat prowess, there were still quite a few of them; their influence stretched across half the galaxy, and their ties to the Senate could cause a great deal of trouble.
There was only one way forward: speak with the Council or the Grand Master, explain the situation, perhaps reveal his identity, and secure Anakin's transfer to him.
"Hmm, this won't be easy," Revan chuckled inwardly.
However, what truly amused him was not the prospect of meeting with the Order's leadership, but the "threatening stance" of the Padawan opposite him, ready to bear the Light, "enforce good," and "inflict justice" upon anyone who even thought of the dark side.
This was despite the fact that before him stood a warrior of Master-level skill with decades of combat experience, whom he had personally seen in action and with whom he would not be able to compete for a long time. Not to mention the most efficient assassin droid in the galaxy, quietly whirring its servos in the corner, ready at any second to protect its Master and incinerate the bothersome "meatbag."
But the conversation needed to start somehow.
"Obi-Wan, if it will help you calm down, you may press your blade against my throat. Just stop shaking as if you've encountered a Krayt Dragon," Revan said with a deep sigh.
The Padawan's hand twitched, but the blade remained on his belt. Perhaps the boy realized the difference in power, or perhaps he simply deemed it beneath an adept of the Light to threaten an unarmed person.
Revan had deliberately left his lightsabers by the door, guarded by HK, thereby creating a semblance of safety. Obi-Wan didn't need to know that the ancient one didn't require blades to deal with a Padawan, and wouldn't even need to move. Nor did he need to know about the "Blade Skimmer technique," which Master Kreia had loved so much. While he couldn't control three blades as precisely and deftly as his teacher, he could summon and position a single blade before Kenobi took a single step.
The ancient one mentally chided himself. These impulses to show off were becoming irritating from time to time. He'd had little time for meditation lately, causing the hormones of his new body to flare up again.
"I want to know who you really are," Kenobi asked, donning the sternest look he could muster.
Revan offered a cryptic smile and rubbed his chin, barely suppressing a laugh. Even Jinn, half-asleep, briefly snorted and coughed.
The former Sith cast a quick glance at the medical equipment displays and ascertained that the wounded Jedi was in no danger.
"I'm waiting," Obi-Wan reminded him, trying to hide his concern for his Master.
Revan shook his head.
"Boy, three days wouldn't be enough to answer your question," he said calmly, adding mentally: "Not to mention that I'm not entirely sure who I am now."
The Padawan stood, frowning, and repeated the question.
"Who are you?"
"Do you wish to hear a retelling of my colorful life? Should I start from birth, or what?" the ancient one asked, crossing his arms and, noticing his interlocutor's confusion, added, "Formulate your question more precisely. State the main point."
Kenobi was unpleasant to him. Something in his behavior and mindset irritated the former Warlord. Probably the notorious tunnel vision, the sacred and unshakable faith in the ideals of the Order and the words of his Masters, despite being quite intelligent and a talented Force-sensitive himself. But he wasn't accustomed to using his own head.
The mere fact that he had abruptly changed his attitude toward an ally he'd admired barely an hour earlier spoke volumes. The moment Avner did something not "Jedi-like," Kenobi immediately rushed to mark him as an enemy.
How Jedi-like that was. Rushing to conclusions and branding someone a traitor, accusing them of a fall, and declaring them an enemy, without delving into the core of what happened or acknowledging the facts.
A brief meeting with one of his Masters shortly after he left for the Mandalorian Wars surfaced in Revan's memory.
"You have fallen to the Dark Side," Master Vrook had told him then, deeming any deviation from the Code the greatest of crimes.
Yet, at that time, Revan had done nothing that could warrant such accusations. Except disobey the Council and leave the Order. The Jedi cared little that he had saved thousands of soldiers' lives and billions of civilians. They cared more about the violation of the Order's rules.
Kenobi, so many years later... was acting the same way. He didn't care that Revan saved the lives of the guards, the Queen, and even his own Master. Avner Van had spared the life of a Sith and, moreover, taken him as an apprentice.
"The Order hasn't changed. At least, not in this," the former Jedi thought.
Meanwhile, Kenobi seemed to grasp the meaning of his interlocutor's words and rephrased the question.
"Are you a Sith?" he asked with a challenge.
Revan sat down on the edge of the neighboring cot, maintaining a relaxed composure in contrast to Obi-Wan.
"An interesting question," he stretched out thoughtfully. "And a correct one."
"Don't evade!" the Padawan demanded.
Qui-Gon Jinn, fighting with all his might not to drift into sleep, gave his apprentice a reproachful look. Catching his Master's gaze, Kenobi tempered his fervor.
"Is it so hard to answer a simple question?" he asked in a calmer tone.
"You may not believe me, but yes, it is difficult." Revan looked directly into the young Jedi's eyes. "It all depends on the meaning you ascribe to the word 'Sith.'"
"Evil, ancient tyrants, insane murderers striving for absolute power, adepts of the dark side," Obi-Wan replied irritably.
Revan raised an eyebrow in surprise and smiled faintly.
"A peculiar formulation," he said, suppressing a snicker. "I can confidently say that I cannot be counted among the Sith."
"At least not in such a distorted version," the ancient one added mentally.
Kenobi narrowed his eyes distrustfully.
"Then you are a Jedi?"
Revan's smile widened further.
"It depends on the meaning..." he began, but was interrupted.
"Avner!" Qui-Gon spoke, his voice quiet but firm.
The former Jedi met the wounded Light-side adept's gaze. In them, it was clearly legible: "Leave my Padawan alone. Don't torment the boy. Spare his mind."
"Fine," the former Sith said, letting out a loud sigh. "I will answer."
Kenobi tensed. So did Jinn, even though he was certain that the representative of the Order from the Old Republic era was definitely not their enemy.
"With the same certainty that I cannot count myself among the Sith, I can say that I am not fully a Jedi, either."
"But whose side are you on?" the Padawan insisted.
Revan shrugged.
"My own, I suppose."
"There is only Light and Darkness," Kenobi stated stubbornly.
Even Qui-Gon was about to object to his young and inexperienced apprentice, but the ancient warrior preempted him.
"'With us or against us?'" he smiled. "That is almost a literal quote from one of the founding principles of Sith teachings. An absolute, no neutrality, inaction leads to death."
Obi-Wan recoiled as if struck, his eyes wide.
"Did you call me a Sith?!"
Revan sighed.
"Learn to listen, Padawan," Revan said, shaking his head.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon chimed in, "calm yourself. Avner just told you how his position differs from that of the Sith. Though not in direct terms."
Kenobi turned his gaze to his Master. Jinn caught his breath and coughed. It was still difficult for him to speak.
"Unlike the Order's perennial enemies, this Force-sensitive does not divide everyone into allies and outsiders. He is willing to seek compromises, establish contacts, and offer aid without basing it on allegiance to one faction or another."
'Also not the best description. All that's missing is—'seeking advantage in every situation and willing to compromise principles,'' Revan thought.
He suddenly realized he had encountered this speech before. Among archival records. A small article about Revan, written by one of his contemporaries. It was unique in that it described the ancient Jedi not as a traitor and war criminal, but as a talented leader. It was a miracle that the article survived the censorship and edits of Atris, who had done everything possible to drag the names of those who went to war through the mud.
Qui-Gon, apparently, had also read this article.
Revan gave a grateful nod to the old Master.
"Master, he is a threat," Obi-Wan insisted.
"You are still very young, my Padawan," Jinn rebuffed him. "And you still have much to learn about the world we live in."
It was clear the apprentice was choosing his words to defend his opinion, but he ultimately did not risk opposing his Master's authority.
"Yes, Master," he submitted, bowing respectfully.
"Excellent," Qui-Gon smiled benignly and turned his gaze to Revan. "I know why you have come. But I ask you, wait for the Council's decision. I cannot hand him over to you without their approval."
The former Sith didn't need anyone's approval. And he certainly wasn't going to beg. However, observing the Council's reaction would be interesting. Given Kenobi's behavior, their response to the offer to train the most promising, and perhaps unique, Force-sensitive was quite predictable. But Revan's reply was highly diplomatic.
"I give you my word that I will not take the boy before meeting with the Council," he said, and mentally added, "But after that meeting, he will leave with me regardless of the outcome of negotiations."
Jinn seemed to read his thoughts and gave a short nod. He, too, understood that Anakin could find no better teacher.
"Rest, Qui-Gon. The Queen promised to allocate medical transport to take you to Coruscant," Revan added. "And if the Halls of Healing haven't lost their skills, they'll have you back on your feet in a day, maximum."
Qui-Gon nodded gratefully and leaned back on the pillow.
The former Sith turned and, without another word, left the chamber under Kenobi's disgruntled gaze.
Revan planned to spend the remainder of the day in meditation aboard his starship. He didn't trust the Queen enough to be tempted by the offer to stay in the palace. Moreover, years of wandering, wars, and searching for the truth had accustomed him to life on starships. It was calmer in a cramped steel compartment.
The former Jedi was gradually beginning to feel tired. Not even a full day had passed since he'd had to properly exert himself in combat. Although everything had turned out not to be too difficult, it still required a certain mastery, as he constantly had to look out for his less powerful allies. He also had to restrain himself in the fight with Maul. The dark side clearly disliked this. Revan could still feel the lingering echoes of the fury that was ready to erupt and incinerate the Zabrak.
The temptations of the dark side. They were hard to resist, especially when teenage hormones raged in his blood. The young body was not yet accustomed to such stress, and the need to constantly mask most of his power, not to mention the dark half of his own essence, was highly draining.
"I should devote more time to training and meditation," Revan nodded to his thoughts.
The Force nourished the ancient Jedi, filling his body with power and allowing him to maintain a cheerful and imperturbable appearance.
On the way to the Dawn's Eagle, Revan encountered several guards whom he remembered from the morning's battle. The soldiers nodded cordially and offered words of gratitude. Everyone understood to whom they owed the success of the operation and the low casualty count.
His head began to ache from the endless conversations and greetings in the spirit of: Knight! — Guardsman! Knight! — Guardsman! Knight! — Guardsman!
As it turned out, the main garrison had returned to the palace, along with a couple of Gungan detachments and messengers who had delivered a communiqué from Boss Nass. So the crowd had grown.
Having finally gotten away from yet another grateful soldier, Revan hurried to the hangar, where HK was supposed to have relocated their ship. Anakin was also scheduled to visit his friend from Tatooine.
From the entrance, the former Sith heard a voice he decidedly did not want to hear.
"And mesa did this, BOOM! And the droidy go, Ah-ah-ah! Bonk and den go sleepy!" chirped the eared nuisance named Jar Jar.
In front of him, on a cargo platform, sat HK-47 with his optics blinking menacingly, stroking a carbine with one hand while using the other to arrange spare power cells on a crate before him.
Revan approached and listened to the droid's murmuring, trying to stay out of the overly talkative Gungan's line of sight.
"Selection Imitation: To kill. To spare," he stated, pulling out a new power cell with each word. "To tear out the heart. To send into the abyss. To rip off the ears... Observation: The cells are finished."
It sounded like a child's counting rhyme. Revan finally yielded to his curiosity, despite the "danger" of falling into the Gungan's clutches, and walked up to the droid.
"What are you doing, HK?"
The Gungan noticed the new listener and immediately began to retell the story of his battle exploits, which only intensified Revan's growing headache.
The droid raised its head and stared at its Master. If its facial plate could change expression, it would now display sadness and a plea for help. After all, Jar Jar could drive anyone mad. Especially a sociopathic assassin droid.
"Tired Explanation: A local Guard meatbag showed me an alternative random selection algorithm used by the local populace, Master. It is based on counting a random number of identical elements—for example, plant petals, power cells in an ammunition belt, loops on clothing, and so on—assigning a choice value to each individual unit."
"And how is it?" Revan asked, pointedly ignoring the Gungan's squeaky shouts describing the AAT attack.
"Irritated: Highly inefficient. I know the number of power cells in my ammunition belt in advance, since I packed it myself, Master. And a single glance at a plant is enough for me to count its petals," HK reported his verdict, casting a short glance at the eared nuisance. "Contemptuous: As I suspected, meatbags will never devise an alternative to a randomizer."
"Don't forget that these alternatives are designed for organics. And we can't instantly count petals," Revan countered, wincing at the noises Jar Jar was making to attract their attention.
"Mocking: Silly meatbags." The droid produced a sound resembling a short snicker. Revan raised one eyebrow, staring expectantly at HK. "Correction: All except for you, Master!" the droid corrected itself.
Meanwhile, the Gungan's screeching grew louder next to his ear.
"Jedi! Ah, Jedi?!" he was practically shouting.
"Query: Master, may I activate the kill protocol?" HK asked, continuously tracking the "victim."
"Denied," Revan replied reluctantly. Although the proposal was tempting.
"Jedi, listen to mesa!" the Gungan waved his hands.
Revan glanced behind the eared native and, with an effort of will, shifted one of the crates of ammunition from the top layer of the cargo platform. The heavy cube crashed to the floor, incidentally crushing one of poor Binks's feet, who began to hop on his intact limb, howling loudly.
"Oh, the Force! Jar Jar, you urgently need to see a medic!" the former Jedi advised with feigned concern.
"Conclusion: A fracture has occurred. Recommendation: Hurry, while the foot can still be saved," HK added.
The Gungan was convinced.
"Help! Take me!" Binks whined.
"Certainly," Revan drawled, lifting the Gungan into the air with the Force. "Third turn right. Don't miss it!"
And Jar Jar, screaming like a swoop bike at full throttle, exited the hangar, ignoring gravity.
A Naboo technician who witnessed the scene cursed in annoyance and spat toward the flying Gungan. Then he turned to Revan and bowed, clearly thanking him wholeheartedly.
"What was that about?" Revan asked his droid, slightly bewildered by such a reaction.
"Answer: The brainless eared creature, barely reaching the lower intellectual limit of meatbags, named Jar Jar, has already managed to break 4 complex electronic engine components on three N-1 starfighters, 3 diagnostic modules, one astromech droid, and probably the psyche of that very technician, Master. Furthermore, the Gungan, 'in an attempt to help,' disrupted the organization of supplies in the nearest warehouse, broke a loading platform, and damaged 5 containers of rations for the guardsmen."
Revan whistled, mentally estimating the scale of the destruction.
"Recommendation: I suggest classifying this Gungan as a natural disaster and dealing with him accordingly, Master. Or perhaps liquidating him to reduce the damage to the planet's economy... possibly the galaxy's."
"Avoid, isolate, or eliminate?" the former Jedi clarified. "What if we use him?"
"Query: Elaboration is required. What do you mean, Master?"
"Imagine what would happen if he ended up on a potential enemy's planet? On a friendly visit? Or, Force forbid, in the Senate!" Revan shuddered, chasing away the goosebumps that ran down his spine.
"Analysis: Destruction of the planet in the first scenario and the collapse of the Republic in the second," the droid mused with strange notes of respect in its voice.
"He would be more effective than an entire company of saboteurs," Revan said, half-jokingly. The droid nodded.
"Query: Do you command me to eliminate the threat?" it suddenly perked up, drawing its blaster.
"No, HK. That's too radical."
"Clarification: Then at least permit me to inflict 'some damage to his audio sensors' upon our next encounter, Master?"
"Rip off his ears?" the ancient Sith clarified.
"Affirmative, Master."
"Only if there are no witnesses nearby," Revan whispered.
"Joyful Exclamation: I obey, Master!"
The droid's creator shook his head with a smile. Sometimes HK acted exactly like a child. Albeit, one whose games were excessively bloody.
Then his gaze was caught by a poorly secured panel near the starboard engine. By all appearances, it had been blown out from the inside by an ignition flash.
The prototype starship acquired by the assassin droid, while possessing excellent characteristics and flying wonderfully, was not known for its reliability. Minor breakages and malfunctions occurred with enviable frequency. In this regard, the "Dawn's Eagle" reminded him of the "Ebon Hawk." The heavily modified freighter would not have left Taris if not for the combined efforts of T3-M4, Canderous, Revan, and Carth. His young successor could not yet boast of such a crew. Something had to be done about it.
"HK, go to the quartermaster. Try to barter an astromech from them. We need one desperately, or our miracle ship won't fly for long." Revan ran a hand over his ship's hull.
"I obey, Master!" the droid chirped briskly.
"And no bodily harm!" the former Jedi requested.
"I obey, Master," HK repeated in a much sadder tone and headed for the hangar exit.
Finding himself alone, Revan boarded the Dawn's Eagle, intending to occupy himself with meditation and soothe his rebellious organism. A feeling of unease lingered. Something was wrong, but nothing could be done now. It was as if something powerful had begun to move or a long-prepared plan had started to unfold. Whatever it was, it would affect the entire galaxy.
Thoughts chased one another in his head. Revan disliked it when the Force sent its warnings in this form. And now Queen Amidala had decided to host a celebration for the planet's liberation, where he and the other Jedi would be presented with awards from the Naboo government, and Boss Nass would receive a gift—a traditional symbol of peace and prosperity. With this, the young Queen wanted to acknowledge the Gungans' contribution to the victory over the Trade Federation and solidify a new alliance between the planet's two nations.
Revan was not fond of official events, balls, receptions, and other diversions of monarchs and the powerful. Although the Order's Masters had noted his talents in diplomacy, his sharp mind, his ability to notice even the most insignificant details, and his skill in convincing even the most stubborn interlocutor, the former Sith preferred to use quicker and more effective methods. He disliked hypocrisy, though he resorted to it more and more often lately.
Noting the irony, Revan smiled. He disliked "wearing a mask" in his soul, playing other people's roles, while rarely parting with a literal mask on his face.
Making himself comfortable on the floor of the empty cargo hold, the former Jedi sank into meditation, gazing inward, calming his thoughts, body, and spirit, channeling the Force through himself, and trying to perceive the shadows of the future. He lost track of time until his concentration was disturbed by a familiar presence. There was no threat, so Revan decided not to break his meditation.
"Whoa, cool!" gasped the child who had entered the hold, finding the ancient Force-sensitive suspended a meter above the floor.
"Hello, Anakin," Revan greeted him without opening his eyes.
"Did I disturb you?" the boy remembered himself.
"No," the man answered briefly.
"What are you... are you doing?" Skywalker asked uncertainly.
Revan cracked open one eye.
"Why have you suddenly started addressing me formally?"
"Sorry," Anakin mumbled, embarrassed. "It's just that I didn't know how strong a Jedi you were until now."
"And I didn't suspect you were such a good pilot," Revan chuckled. "Imagine, at such a young age, you shattered a space station into smithereens."
"I got lucky," the boy replied modestly.
But his emotions gave him away completely. The ancient Sith felt everything: his joy, pride, vanity. The child had performed a heroic feat and knew it. He wanted to be praised, honored, exalted, but the norms of behavior instilled in him as a slave constrained him. This created a conflict. The raging hurricane of emotions and contradictions attracted the Force but also made it difficult to control. Without proper guidance, the boy risked falling to the dark side. Not becoming a Sith, but simply falling, becoming a hostage to instincts and the simplest, base impulses.
Revan let out a heavy sigh, realizing how much effort he would have to expend if he did take this child as his apprentice.
"Is something wrong?" Anakin noticed the change in his interlocutor's mood.
"No, everything is fine," Revan replied in a steady voice. "You wanted to know what I was doing?"
"Yes," the boy brightened.
"This is called Levitation Meditation," the former Jedi informed him. "A very difficult technique to master, requiring long practice."
"Can I do that?" Skywalker asked with hope and anticipation.
"With diligence and patience..."
"I'm diligent!" the boy immediately blurted out.
"And patience," Revan reminded him with a smile.
"I... understand," the boy blushed.
Suddenly, Revan, still in a semi-trance, saw a rapid succession of images flash through his mind. In them, a slightly older Anakin held a lightsaber hilt, preparing to activate it for the first time. His face glowed with happiness.
Then the scene changed. Maul with a scarlet lightsaber engaged in a duel with a fair-haired teenager, skillfully wielding an azure blade and a shoto with an amethyst blade.
"Use the Force," Revan heard his own voice, directed at one of the duelists.
The vision changed again. Queen Amidala appeared in it for some reason. She and Anakin stood back-to-back on a battlefield, their hands barely touching. The young woman's resolve reminded him of Bastila before her charge against Malak. Who would have thought that the young and naive Queen would grow up... like that.
Suddenly, someone in a black robe with a deep hood and two crimson blades in their hands appeared in his consciousness. The Force and the Dark Side radiated from him. His presence was overwhelming, as if Vitiate had been resurrected in all his terrifying majesty.
Then the images raced with lightning speed. Revan managed to catch only a few of them with his mind.
Here was Anakin kneeling over his mother's body. But here she was alive in another vision. Here, three great fleets clashed in a battle over Coruscant, and here there were only two. Here, Maul and an older Anakin leaned over a holotable with a map of the galaxy. But in the next scene, Maul lay vanquished at Skywalker's feet, his eyes glowing gold with crimson flecks. Clear skies over Dantooine. And the same sky, but hidden behind a pall of black smoke from burning cities.
A choice.
Variants.
The Force showed what could be but gave no hint as to what would lead to it. How to achieve one and avoid the other?
Revan tried to break free from the maelstrom of images that had sucked him in.
The blue-eyed, fair-haired young man, kneeling before Revan as his Master, was replaced by a broad-shouldered giant, clad in black armor and a helmet with a respirator mask.
"You have poisoned this world with your presence long enough, Revan," a voice distorted by a modulator boomed as the giant raised his scarlet blade for the strike. "Farewell, my first Master."
"Avner?!" Anakin's alarmed voice jolted the ancient Jedi back to reality.
The abrupt change in surroundings caused Revan to lose his spatial orientation for a moment, and he crashed to the floor. However, he instantly sprang to his feet and nearly slammed Skywalker into the hold wall with a Force push, but realized just in time who was before him.
"Avner?" the boy called out, frightened.
The Jedi stood, breathing heavily, his fist thrust forward. It took him several long seconds to calm down and separate reality from what he had seen.
"Should I go?" Skywalker backed away toward the exit.
Revan shook his head, driving away the remnants of the trance.
"No, it's alright, Anakin," he answered, making a guilty face. "I just... dozed off."
"Dozed off?" the boy wondered. "Suspended in the air?"
Revan smiled and shrugged, suggesting it simply happens.
"Did you have a nightmare?" the boy asked, a little more confidently.
The Jedi nodded.
"Even a few," he added.
"I have nightmares too," Skywalker admitted, bowing his head. "Sometimes they come true."
Revan frowned. Whatever Anakin saw in his sleep, it caused him pain. The Force, especially at such a young age and without proper training, could feel like a curse. This meant that training needed to be rushed. Before the boy went mad from the visions.
However, the training itself was fraught with many dangers... and could lead to either peace and prosperity for this galaxy or to chaos and destruction.
"Nothing is clear yet. Nothing is predetermined. Even the Force will not give a precise answer as to what the future holds," Revan reminded himself inwardly.
He was decided.
He would train this child. And he would see that bright future. He absolutely would.
"Sit down." The ancient one gestured toward a crate he had just levitated from the corner of the hold. "Let's talk about your dreams. You see..."
They talked late into the night until the guards sent by the Queen came to find the boy. Skywalker listened, mesmerized, to Revan's tales about the nature of the Force, how it permeated everything, both space and time. He spoke of visions, the abilities of the Force-sensitive, the Light Side, the Dark Side, and the unified nature of the Force.
The boy wanted to know everything at once. This reminded Revan of himself at the start of his training. He would spend days in the library and pester the Masters with questions, striving to understand the Force, to understand the Jedi teachings. And the more he learned, the more questions he accumulated.
After finally convincing Anakin to go to sleep and solemnly promising to tell him more in the morning, Revan also headed to his cabin. On the way, he ran into HK, who was having a lively argument with an R2-series astromech busy soldering a control relay for the port engine's fuel delivery system.
"HK?" Revan nodded toward the bucket-shaped droid. "Who is this?"
"Answer: Master, this is R2-D2, an astrodroid temporarily assigned to our ship by order of Queen Amidala. He distinguished himself during the... hasty departure of the Queen from Naboo and is a highly talented mechanic. Well, so they say," the assassin droid finished grumblingly. "Information Correction: Oh, Master, this is also the same astrodroid that was in the starfighter with the restless meatbag."
R2 let out a displeased trill in Binary. Revan, who perfectly understood the language, translated for himself: "Do not speak of the young Master Pilot that way!"
"Angry Commentary: I will refer to the stupid meatbag however I wish!"
"Ahem," the former Jedi reminded them of his presence.
"Correction: Unless the Master commands otherwise, of course," HK added in an oily voice.
The astromech turned its optical sensor toward Revan and, a moment later, whistled a complex, ear-splitting trill for anyone not used to communicating directly with astromechs.
"Pleased to meet you, R2-D2. I am Avner Van, but I am also often called Vaner. If you stay with us longer, I'll tell you why."
The droid whistled excitedly.
"Yes, it is a secret."
The astromech was impressed by its new Captain, which is exactly how it perceived Revan, and intrigued. Apparently, this astrodroid already had a fully formed personality matrix. And that personality was characterized by restlessness.
"Just like T3-M4," Revan thought with a smile.
Enthused by the prospect of future adventures, R2 gave a joyful trill and began swaying from side to side on its supports.
"Easy there, friend, or you'll short-circuit your relays," the former Jedi chuckled. "I hope we can work well together."
At that moment, HK muttered something barely audible that sounded like, "Disgusted: Another mechanic with a searing motivator in its aft chassis."
Chuckling at the assassin droid's commentary, who had spent a long time in the company of T3-M4, Revan proceeded to his cabin.
A message from HK on a private channel to Revan's personal communicator stated that the assassin droid had already checked the astromech for hidden espionage devices and had also forced the Royal Palace's technical services to officially change the droid's assignment from the Queen's yacht to Revan's ship, thereby eliminating the possibility of dual allegiance. HK would not tolerate a spy on board.
"Well, things are getting more interesting," the ancient one said to his reflection. "Let's see what tomorrow brings."
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