The chapter number in the title is the chapter number of this chapter in my patreon.
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Obsidian...
The identification number assigned during assembly: RSS-HIC002CSA.
The Republic Fleet combat unit's registered designation: RBA-9974-057CS.
A Hyperdrive Interdiction Cruiser, built by Sienar Fleet Systems during the Mandalorian Wars. One of five ships of the new model accepted into the Republic's Second Strike Fleet under the command of General Revan. And one of the cruisers used as a template for reproduction at the automated factory of the Star Forge.
A ship designed for the interception and destruction of enemy forces. A war machine of terrifying power, capable of wiping an opponent off the face of any planet directly from orbit, preventing survivors from jumping to hyperspace, and finishing off the remnants of the hostile troops. The apex predator of the known galaxy.
Obsidian… That was the name given to it by its commander, who chose this particular Interdictor as the flagship for his own flotilla.
This very ship endured the war with the Mandalorians all the way to Malachor V, then led the Sith armada, and helped conquer half the Republic.
And it was on the bridge of this very cruiser that Revan… vanished. Defeated and cast down… Erased… Betrayed by his own apprentice…
In the midst of a battle with a squad of Jedi who had come for him…
A treacherous salvo of turbolaser cannons from the Leviathan onto the bridge of the Obsidian… Pain and darkness…
Revan was at the brink of death, and his path would have ended right there if not for Bastila. The naive idealist decided to save the life of the defeated Sith Lord and bring him to judgment before the Jedi Council. It was only through her attempts to heal his wounds and hold him in the world of the living that Revan was given a chance at rebirth. Perhaps it was in that very moment that the bond formed between him and Bastila, the same one that would repeatedly help them avoid losing themselves… and each other… in the future?
Yet, the reborn Revan was different. Even after he managed to overcome the Magisters' imposed suggestions and shake off the shackles of a fake identity, he was no longer his former self. Whether that was good or bad, he couldn't say.
The Revan who conquered the galaxy twice perished along with the Obsidian. The cruiser suffered critical damage and should have crashed onto the surface of an unnamed planet, in orbit of which Malak's betrayal took place. But no matter how hard Revan tried to remember where it happened, or if the Obsidian was truly destroyed, he failed.
And now, thousands of years later, Revan was once again aboard the ship that witnessed his triumph… and his fall. It was a pity that the moment was entirely unsuitable for nostalgia. The opponent, frozen in a battle stance, was unlikely to allow the former commander to simply stand and indulge in memories.
This was confirmed the next moment when the imposter swung their blade.
In the first second he turned, Revan was stunned by how much his opponent resembled him. No, not the teenager in whose body the former Jedi had been reborn. Standing before him was Darth Revan! The person he was when he was the Lord of his own Empire. The light mesh armor, the durasteel breastplate with a cortosis weave overlay, the coal-black cloak with a deep hood, and the worn Mandalorian mask—all copied his own down to the last detail. This was precisely how he looked in the old holographic records from the time of the Jedi Civil War.
Except… the imposter, upon closer inspection, was too… thin? Was this due to the poor lighting of the damaged ship's dark corridors, or was there something more at play?
The opponent didn't allow him a closer look, descending upon Revan like a whirlwind, showering him with a flurry of strikes. All of them, however, were deflected or blocked with the precise and elegant movements of the silver blade.
With mixed feelings, Revan noted that his double was quite fast and a masterful user of the Juyo style, weaving an elegant pattern of combat from the chaos and unpredictability of that lightsaber form. Since his resurrection in Mizar Marr's body, this was the first time the former Sith had encountered someone so talented.
Revan didn't even notice as he shifted from a defensive to an offensive stance, deciding to probe the opponent's defenses. And they did not disappoint. Although the opponent hesitated for a moment when the crimson blade, instead of the expected sliding block of Makashi, plunged into empty space, pulling its owner forward, they still managed to dodge the attack at the last second. The silver blade only barely nicked the breastplate and sliced the cloak. But dodging the next thrust was impossible. And here, the double surprised him again.
Revan thrust his blade under the opponent's left arm, almost regretfully, preparing to inflict a non-lethal but very serious wound. He didn't plan on killing them, intending to get some answers about this whole staged spectacle. And when the tip of the plasma loop was little more than an inch away from the vulnerable, unarmored side, the former Jedi felt resistance, as if the air had suddenly thickened. The sensation was familiar.
The imposter used the Force and attempted to grab the hand holding the blade, but Revan didn't allow them to succeed. He was ready for such an attack and was able to neutralize the effects of the telekinetic grasp with a counter-pulse, forcing the enemy to break distance.
The double's emotions flared with annoyance. Exhaling loudly, they shrugged off the damaged cloak, a shred of which could snag on their feet.
This gave Revan a chance to get a better look at his opponent. Well, he hadn't imagined it. The imposter was indeed too thin to match the original image. They were almost the same height as Revan's current body, which meant they were a head shorter than the former Sith who fought the Mandalorians. And the shoulders were too narrow…
The double stepped forward, and the light from an emergency lamp fell on them for a few moments. In that instant, Revan realized what was wrong with his opponent.
It wasn't just the thinness or the short stature. Standing before him was a woman!
The cloak and armor, coupled with the darkness, had concealed her figure, but now everything was obvious.
"That's why the voice sounded too high," Revan thought.
The opponent—or rather, the adversary, grabbed a second blade from her belt. The former Jedi recognized it as the thinner, shorter hilt of a lightsaber shoto.
"That's right. Jar'Kai. I once used a short blade paired with my primary one," Revan noted, assessing how convenient it would be to use a second saber in the narrow corridor of the starship.
The woman attacked again.
The shoto flared purple and lunged directly at Revan's chest. A blatant provocation, meant to block his weapon arm while he attempted to parry the strike. The former Jedi did not fall for the trick and rotated his body to the right, letting the blade pass. Predictably, the crimson blade followed the purple one. In a flash, the man delivered a short, open-handed strike to the elbow of the arm holding the shoto, forcing the woman to turn slightly, and deflected the second blade with his primary saber, which threw his opponent even further off balance.
The woman converted her fall into a roll, evading Revan's counter-strike. Scrambling to her feet, she sharply spun and launched a Force-powered wave directly from her blade at the former Jedi, channeling the Force wave through the focusing crystal.
Despite the block Revan raised, the impact pushed him back half a step, giving the imposter an extra half-second to catch her breath. She immediately took advantage of this, telekinetically throwing the shoto at her opponent's head and lunging right after it.
Revan let the purple blade pass over his head and met the woman with a series of furious strikes.
Although his opponent was clearly using the Force to strengthen her body, she struggled greatly to withstand the blows from a physically equal adversary. And with every passing second, her movements became slower and more predictable.
A sudden feeling of danger warned Revan of a threat from behind. The stranger had called her shoto back with the Force, intending to catch the former Jedi off guard. When this failed, and Revan simply dodged the strike, the woman once again bore down on her opponent, sharply increasing the tempo.
Clashing with the woman again and again in the dance of combat, the former Jedi could not help but notice that she was indeed trying to copy his style. Trying, because she succeeded with mixed results. Perhaps she learned from holographic combat records of Revan's fights, or perhaps she tried to recreate his style herself from archival data, but her movements lacked meaning. It wasn't enough to know the movement, or to practice it; one had to understand why it was done in that specific way and what the author's original intent was.
Revan developed his style through training with Arren Kae and then honed it in countless battles, discarding everything superfluous and adding whatever could help him save his own life while destroying his enemies. The imposter lacked that experience, causing her to expend far more energy than necessary and often nearly lose her balance, investing force into a strike where she should have used a feint and shifted aside.
Whoever trained her specialized in a power-based style, which was unsuitable for this woman. She was too agile and fast, qualities that were clearly natural to her. And so, by trying to slow down to take the right stance and put more force into a blow, the stranger only broke the entire pattern of combat, losing tempo and a potential advantage. This further distorted the image. With every passing minute, Revan noticed fewer and fewer similarities to himself. Aside from the copy of the mask and possibly the similar armor, there was nothing of the true Darth Revan in the woman.
Clicking his tongue in disappointment, the former Jedi once again deflected the crimson blade and kicked the shoto out of the woman's hand. However, he relaxed too much and barely avoided a counter-strike with her elbow aimed right at his mask, managing to tilt his head back and even launch a counterattack.
The silver blade passed over the imposter's mask with a characteristic scrape and flash, leaving a diagonal, scorching-hot trace across the visor.
Leaping back, the stranger clutched the mask with her free hand but did not rush to remove it. Revan's saber had not penetrated the inner protective layer, saving the woman from a horrific wound.
Running her fingers over the quickly cooling indentation on the visor, the woman literally growled with fury.
"How dare you, you damn imposter!" she shrieked.
Revan clearly sensed the Darkness reaching out toward his opponent, obeying her will. In the moment the first forked bolts of Force Lightning tore from her fingertips, the former Jedi was ready.
"Strong," Revan thought, catching the strike on his open palm. "But not enough."
Overwhelmed by her fury, the woman was completely unprepared for her own power to be used against her. Struck by her own lightning, she was thrown back against the wall. Revan telekinetically pulled the saber that had fallen from her hand, as well as its smaller counterpart, to himself and severed them, disarming his adversary.
"Who are you?" the victor demanded harshly, pointing the silver blade at the imposter.
The woman tried to concentrate the Force and rise, but Revan instantly cut off the attempt, pressing his opponent to the floor with a Force push.
"I ask again, who are you? And remember, you won't hear that question a third time."
The stranger lifted her head and looked at the former Jedi. Even though their faces were hidden by masks, Revan felt her gaze fixed directly on his eyes.
"Who are you?" the loser hissed.
There was no point in answering the question, yet the former Jedi felt compelled to reply.
"Revan," the victor said simply.
"Imposter," the woman spat out, laced with contempt and hatred.
"Says the one wearing a copy of my armor and mask," Revan countered unperturbed.
The anger and frustration radiating from the stranger would have been felt even by the non-Force sensitive. The reaction was interesting. Whoever she was, her attitude toward the former Sith Lord was excessively reverent… bordering on fanatical.
"I am the last of the Revanites! And you will pay dearly for desecrating the name of our Lord!" the woman roared.
The next moment, Revan was forced to turn toward the open door at the far end of the corridor. And just in time. The sense of danger warned him of a threat a moment before a crowd of droids clad in Sith Empire stormtrooper armor burst into the corridor, opening a torrent of fire on the former Jedi.
There were only about fifteen of them, but the density of fire was impressive. Revan was forced onto the defensive, preparing for a counterattack. Just five seconds. Evading the line of fire, deflecting the blaster bolts that were flying his way, and a crushing Force Blast that fried the droids' internal circuits. Yet, this was enough.
Enough for the last of the Revanites to vanish.
Revan was about to rush after her but quickly remembered the purpose of his visit. The Holocrons.
The Sith pyramids were still in the captain's cabin. Literally five steps away.
After making sure the woman was definitely not nearby and sensing her presence moving toward the bridge, Revan contacted his comrades.
"HK, I just ran into some Force-sensitive individual. Quite 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 a sect had emerged on Dromund Kaas during Vitiate's Empire, revering Revan as an embodiment of the balance of the Force and the true Emperor, it was hard to believe the cult could have lasted for thousands of years. Especially since, according to the pureblood Sith, all followers of the newly formed order had been wiped out by the combined forces of the Republic and the Empire.
"Answer: I possess quite limited information on this matter, Master," the droid replied. "The Order of Revan was a secretive society of adherents to non-traditional teachings concerning Revan, that is to say, you, Master. The Order revered you as a Force adept who always maintained the balance between Light and Darkness within himself. The Revanite philosophy was to follow the ways of Revan as they understood them. They sought to change the Sith Empire from within and bring the balance of the Force to it. At least, that is according to the records of Master Satele Shan."
"What else is known about the cult? How long did it last?"
Revan ripped the door off the captain's cabin, which triggered a booby trap intended for uninvited guests. Not lowering his guard for any new surprises, the former Jedi stepped inside.
"Answer: There are no precise details, Master. My memory contains fragments of information about a period of interaction with several individuals calling themselves Revanites, however, this sector of my core was damaged, making it impossible to reconstruct 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."
"What about the present time?" Revan inquired, disarming yet another trap.
"Disappointed: I do not possess the necessary information, Master. Hopeful: However, perhaps the Mandalorian meatbag has more information."
"Why would that be?" Tira cut into the dialogue.
"Answer: It is reliably known that the Revanites were supported by the Mandalorian Clan Farr."
"And how many years ago was that, tin can?" the mercenary protested.
"Evasive Answer: That is irrelevant. Instructive: Mandalorian clans possess excellent survival rates and highly value generational continuity, passing a maximum of ancestral knowledge down to their descendants."
"Many clans have died out or been destroyed over that many years," the mercenary persisted.
"Objection: Mandalorians continued the line of succession not only through blood relatives but also through the acceptance of new members into the clan. Observation: You are a prime example of such a practice."
"Go jump in a Sarlacc," Tira snapped. "But fine, the Hutt with you, I'll pull up 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, which Revan didn't recall being in the captain's cabin, though he noted that the cabin's configuration and furnishings were indeed consistent with the one he had once lived in.
"HK, explain to me why you decided this cruiser is the Obsidian?" Revan addressed the droid again.
"Joyful Answer: R2-D2 entered the ship's network and read the information from the on-board computer and navigation archives. Explanation: All registration numbers match the Republic cruiser Obsidian, which was under the command of General Revan."
"And how did it end up here? It was destroyed, wasn't it?"
"Objection: There is no reliable information about the Obsidian's destruction, Master. Explanation: There are records from the Republic Hammerhead-class cruiser Swift showing the cruiser leaving orbit with heavy damage."
"That doesn't explain how the ship ended up in orbit of another planet almost four thousand years later. What happened to it?"
"Answer: Due to damage to the navigation system, it is impossible to determine the coordinates of the crash or the exact date all systems were shut down, Master," the assassin droid replied. "Supplement: However, there is information about a re-activation at the Talaan shipyards nine hundred thirty-two standard years ago, where a partial repair was carried out. From there, the cruiser traveled under its own power, but mostly kept to the deep frontier border systems, avoiding contact with anyone, Master."
"A ghost ship."
"Affirmative."
Retrieving the damned pyramids turned out to be quite simple. The traps set by the room's owner were not designed for the Force-sensitive. Deactivating the mines and cracking the safe was a matter of minutes.
And just as the coveted artifacts were floating into Revan's outstretched palms, the assassin droid contacted him again.
"Concerned: Master, R2 is still digging through the cruiser's network, and he has detected interference with the security protocols," HK quickly stated. "Someone is attempting to bypass the airlock chamber blocks that prevent depressurization of decks where living organisms are present."
"Hutt!" Revan exclaimed, quickly realizing the danger.
He mentally admired the ingenuity and recklessness of the last of the Revanites. She intended to depressurize the ship! To completely strip all compartments of atmosphere, tossing the uninvited guests into space! Such a stunt would threaten the death of the entire crew and serious damage to the ship's internal structures. If the crew were alive!
As for the structural integrity and its resistance to sudden pressure and temperature drops… well, he admired her recklessness as well. However, the risk was justified. The Interdictor was a military cruiser after all 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 coming! Prepare the Eagle for takeoff!" Revan barked, stuffing the holocrons into a satchel and bolting into the corridor.
Rushing through the cruiser's corridors, the former Jedi distinctly heard bulkheads and compartment doors opening somewhere in the distance. Time was running out.
Twice, droid-stormtroopers blocked his path, but their pitiful attempts to delay Revan were unsuccessful.
Just as he ran into the hangar, the former Jedi saw the shield generator separating the flight deck from open space begin to flicker. As soon as his feet touched the cargo ramp of the Eagle, Revan felt something sharply pull him backward and upward. The atmosphere was escaping the cruiser's hangar and tried to drag the uninvited guest along with it. Fortunately, the former Jedi managed to grab hold of one of the ramp's supports, and then entirely pull himself aboard with the Force.
Only after closing the maw of the cargo hold and leaning against the wall did Revan allow himself to take a deep breath and let out a relaxed sigh.
"Warning: Master, the Obsidian is bringing its weapons to bear," HK reported over the intercom.
The ship noticeably shook as the droid obviously performed an evasion maneuver.
"Let's get out of here, HK!" Revan ordered, heading toward the pilot's cockpit.
"Query: Destination?"
"Anywhere! Even 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 Revanites. Standing surrounded by two dozen droids acting as the crew, the woman monotonously rubbed the scorched mark on her mask and watched the agile freighter on the viewscreen.
The crimson streaks from the Interdictor's main guns passed within mere meters of the intruders' ship hull but could not reach it.
With every miss, the woman's annoyance grew until, after one last maneuver, the freighter vanished, activating its hyperdrive.
"Target lost," one of the droids in Imperial armor informed the woman.
"Atmosphere restored on board," another immediately announced.
Swearing under her breath, the ship's commander gave the order to change course and exit the system, then left the bridge, heading to her cabin. Whatever the imposter came for, his target was precisely her cabin.
She already had a guess, however. After all, the feeling of power emanating from the artifacts recovered from the ruins of Malachor V was fading, as if the source were moving further away.
The door torn from its frame clearly indicated what she would find in her cabin. And the ransacked safe confirmed it.
The Holocrons were gone.
Roaring with rage and disappointment, the woman slammed her fist into the wall, leaving a significant dent in the panel. A wave of the Force spread out from her in all directions, sweeping everything in its path.
A hurricane seemed to have torn through the cabin, scattering objects, sweeping datapads and holographic records off the shelves, and wrenching the furniture.
She had been outwitted! The cursed imposter had stolen the artifacts that the Lord himself had touched! How could she follow his path when the beacons had been stolen!
Calming down slightly and regaining clarity of thought, the woman decided to consult with the one she had left many years ago. She needed advice again…
Humiliating…
Summoning a holocommunicator to her palm and noting with annoyance that it had been damaged during her small outburst, she still managed to make it work.
Nothing happened for a minute until a confident and resonant male voice finally sounded in the cabin. No image appeared; the holographic emitter was too heavily damaged.
"What could possibly have happened for you to decide to contact me?"
"I need advice, Master," the woman replied, suppressing her irritation.
"Show some respect," the unknown man said wearily. "You left me without permission, and this is the third time you've asked for help."
"Only for guidance."
"That is even more important," the man chuckled.
A pause hung in the air, lasting a full minute.
"I am waiting," the unknown man finally said.
Apparently, only the emitter was malfunctioning, for the image of the woman was being transmitted perfectly fine on the other side. Otherwise, how could the interlocutor guess what was happening in the cruiser cabin?
Gritting her teeth, the woman dropped to one knee and bowed her head.
"I humbly ask for your counsel, Instructor."
"Hmm," the man drawled. "Just how bad are things that you were able to swallow your pride so quickly?"
"An imposter who claimed the Lord's name stole the ancient holocrons from the Trayus Academy," the woman quickly reported.
"What?!" the stranger snapped, but then continued in a calmer tone: "Wait, you said, 'imposter'."
"Yes, he dared…"
"What did he look like?" the man interrupted his apprentice before she could finish.
"Mandalorian armor, gray and black, a coal cloak with a hood, and a copy of the Lord's mask," the last of the Revanites began to list. "He fought with a silver-colored lightsaber and… is very strong."
"Silver-colored?"
"Yes, Instructor."
In response, the man laughed.
"Well, things are not as bad as you think," the unknown man continued after several seconds of laughter. "The one who took the artifacts merely returned what belongs to him by right."
"But then…"
"And I would be careful about calling him an imposter."
The last phrase stunned the woman into silence. The words simply wouldn't register. Because, if she believed her instructor, then it meant…
"He… has been reborn?!"
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