It is the 968th year after the Ruusan Reformation reformed the Galactic Republic and the Jedi Order into their modern forms.
The Republic is failing, and the Jedi have grown insular and distant from the day-to-day function of the Galaxy.
The Trade Federation, turned corrupt and greedy from its origins as a source of wealth redistribution and honest trade, has blockaded the sovereign system of Naboo, seeking to establish a puppet state as they successfully have on other Mid Rim planets.
In another time, another galaxy, two brave Jedi and a Force Sensitive slave-child would be their hope.
This is not that story.
In the pre-dawn, various workers and tradespeople walked the early morning chill of Theed in spring, quiet conversations barely above the whisper of their shoes on the marble roadways. All spoke of the Blockade, of when it will be removed, of rare goods rising in prices and the lack of transportation off-planet. Most thought the Republic would do something, send a fleet of the Judicial Forces, or even a contingent of Jedi Knights. None spoke of war but in the most delicate of terms, like they feared to bring it into existence by speaking it.
Amongst them strode a man in black, seeming to ignore all around him. He wore a black cape adorned with a strange, unfamiliar design of two teardrops, one black and one white, nestled together to form a circle, each bearing a drop of the other's color in their bulb. His chest, arms, and legs bore unfamiliar but militaristic armor of a silvery sheen, and beneath it black clothing of durable and tight weave. On his face was a kind of mask unfamiliar to all but students of ancient history, a silvery death-mask of Sith design, and each hip held a long metal tube instantly recognizable by any familiar with the Jedi.
Most thought him some sort of mercenary captain, seeking an audience with the Queen. The few who saw and recognized his lightsabers, assumed he was a Jedi sent by the Republic. From a certain point of view, all of their ideas were true, even. He had once been a Jedi of the Republic, their greatest Knight. Once, too, he had been a Dark Lord of the Sith, terrible and mighty. Now he was neither, stuck in a future where both sides would deem him a heretic and a dangerous radical.
But he had the makings of a plan and the will to thread the needle, the Force swirling and rippling around him. As he climbed the steps of the Palace, as the sun rose above the horizon, high in the sky, dozens of Trade Federation landers burned in sheathes of hot plasma from their reentry. The invasion had begun.
Padme had been up for an hour, preparing for another long day of pointless negotiations with the leader of the blockade, Nute Gunray, when one of her Handmaidens, Etrea, burst into the Queen's chambers as Sabe had put the finishing touches on Padme's makeup.
"My Queen, the Trade Federation has launched an invasion. Their landing crafts are projected to reach Theed in under ten minutes."
Shock filled Padme's breast. War had been spoken of, as a rare but distinct possibility. Naboo's Security Forces and Royal Pilots were not enough, not near enough, to make anything but a token of resistance against the combined forces of three Lucrehulk bulk freighters outfitted with war material. Her advisors had made that entirely too clear. And now, six months into her term as Queen of Naboo, her people would face war. She was so shocked, so unsettled by the sudden news, that she didn't catch the rest of the words out of Etrea's mouth.
"I'm sorry, Etrea, can you repeat that last part?"
"Captain Panaka reports there is a Jedi of some kind, wishing to meet with you, my Queen. He is waiting in the reception chambers, and I caught a glimpse of him on my way over. The Jedi is tall, cloaked in black and silver armor, and bears twin lightsabers. He looks… capable."
"We must meet with him, even one Jedi could be enough to turn the tide. Sabe prepare one of my more dexterous dresses, I may need to move quickly today. Etrea, inform Captain Panaka to focus on Theed's defense, and put our pilots in the air."
Her Handmaidens moved quickly, Etrea rushing out the door and Sabe preparing Padme in a red and gold cheongsam of ripplesilk that bared a bit too much leg for Padme's tastes, but would allow her freedom of movement in case things got… messy. A disruptor pistol was slipped around her thigh, the long cut of the dress allowing easy access. Captain Panaka had made her choose a weapon to train with, and Padme had spent three hours a weekend training with it since her accension to the throne. Today would be the first time she had ever worn it with intent to use.
Ready, she strode down the hallway to the reception chambers, the two Royal Guards at the door following her and Sabe inside. The dawn's light filled the warm, gold and purple room with its rich wooden furniture and paintings done in traditional Nubian pointilism. The Jedi, seated crosslegged and
floating in the air, looked up at their arrival, his face covered in a silver-black mask that tugged on Padme's memories.
He stood and bowed deeply. "I am Lord Revan, my Queen, Master of the Force. I have come to offer my aid to you, in whatever way you wish. If that is cutting a bloody swathe through the invaders, or securing your escape off-world to rally allies, or even doing nothing physical but consult and offer advice, I will do it."
Revan. Something about that name struck her as familiar, but as frazzled as she was, Padme could not place it.
"Your assistance in securing Theed alongside the Royal Security Forces would be much appreciated. And if it comes to the point that I must seek assistance off-world, I must ask for your blade, Master Jedi. It is said that even a single Jedi can turn the tide of conflict, that miracles and impossibilities are their forte. I'm afraid my world, as peaceful as it is, may very well need a miracle today."
Lord Revan nodded. "I will do so with great haste, but I must clarify something. I am not a Jedi, nor have I been a Jedi for a very long time. Those in the Temple would not approve considering me 'one of them' so to speak. If you must call me something other than Lord Revan, call me a Force Lord instead of Jedi."
Padme nodded, though internally she was confused and intrigued. A Jedi who was not a Jedi. The Jedi were mysterious and closed-off, but perhaps Lord Revan would be more willing to discuss the nature of the Force and his beliefs. "Force Lord Revan, then. Perhaps, in a less hectic time, we can discuss the differences between your beliefs and the Jedi?"
"Gladly, Queen Amidala. But now I will be off. Do not be alarmed at my sudden speed."
And then, like a blur, the man crossed the room and his steps echoed down the hallway like the ratatat of a snare drum. The guards reacted far too late, and Sabe seemed as stunned as Padme. But soon enough they headed to the Throne room, where her council had gathered, and the debates over what to do next began.
It should have been easy. Naboo was practically defenseless, lacking a global planetary shield and a standing army, relying on their up-jumped royal guard and a cadre of pilots to defend themselves from pirates and 'pirates'. Yet Nute Gunray had already lost contact with the three closest landing craft to Theed, and the fourth was reporting the same thing the last three did.
A figure in a black cloak with two lightsabers, one gold and one silver, casting electricity from his hands and tearing through B1 battledroids like they were flimsi.
A Sith. Nute had seen Lord Sidious cast lightning from his hand against a fellow Nemoidian, and Graef Sinhwe still had seizures and muscle spasms to this day. Had Lord Sidious betrayed them? Was this some kind of test? Had Lord Sidious lied, when he claimed to be the Lord of the Sith? Were there other factions of monsters out there, lurking in the dark of space? Gunray paced the bridge of the
Guaranteed Returns Lucrehulk war-freighter, his panic increasing as the fourth landing craft went silent after a terrible synthetic scream from the ship's droidbrain.
The other cities and towns on Naboo had surrendered with ease, only a few attempts at fighting back by local police and armed citizens that were quickly cut down. Only Theed remained untouched, its city shield protecting itself from land and orbital bombardment, and the damnable Royal Pilots darting out and cutting down any craft that got too close to the capital.
It was supposed to be easy. There wasn't supposed to be a karking
Sith running around causing havoc! Anger filled Nute Gunray, and desperate resolve. He would get answers from Lord Sidious, about what kind of game the Dark Lord was playing.
He retreated to the private holocom room near his quarters, and keyed in a number he'd been told to use only in the most dire of circumstances. It took nearly two minutes for Lord Sidious to answer.
"What, pray tell me, has caused you to think that contacting me is required?" Lord Sidious asked immediately, his voice icy calm.
"There is a Sith on Naboo, currently tearing through my army outside Theed! He is cloaked in black, casting lightning from his hands, and wielding gold and silver lightsabers! What is the meaning of this, Lord Sidious? Have you betrayed us?" Nute Gunray shouted the last bit, his thin shoulders heaving with righteous indignation.
Lord Sidious did not speak for a long moment, his yellow eyes beneath his cloak staring balefully through the holocom transmission.
"You said this 'Sith' bears a golden lightsaber?"
"Yes, gold and silver. All commander droids reported his presence before we lost contact with the landing craft."
"Then regardless of his… appearance, that is no Sith, Director Gunray. Only those steeped in the Light Side of the Force can use golden-hued lightsabers, the solari kyber unwilling to be used by those who have embraced the Dark Side. That is a Jedi you are fighting. One I am, unfortunately, unfamiliar with. The last wielder of a solari lightsaber died over a century ago, when she Fell to the Dark Side mid-conflict and her lightsaber cut out. She did not survive much longer. No Jedi since has dared to use such an unreliable crystal."
"Either way, Jedi or Sith, you must get rid of him! He is ruining everything!" Nute protested.
Suddenly, something grasped his neck and began to choke him.
"Foolish
worm, there is nothing I
must do. I am Lord Sidious, the Dark Lord of the Sith! I command and
you obey."
Nute Gunray dangled in the air, gasping for breath as he nodded rapidly. The choking did not relent.
"But you raise a good point. It is time my young Apprentice test his mettle against the meddlesome Jedi. He will arrive, discreetly, in a little over a day. You will provide him with anything he requires."
The edges of Nute's vision had been turning to gray static, before the invisible force relented and he collapsed on the omberteak floor of the holocom room, gasping for breath.
"Yes, Lord Sidious," was all the Nemoidian could say. What else was there to do against crazed wizards who could choke you halfway across the Galaxy?
Captain Panaka watched the Jedi—no, the Force Lord, the Queen had called him, claiming he was not a
traditional Jedi—tear through another platoon of battledroids that had emerged from the northern forest on the edge of Theed. Captain Panaka and the men and women of the Royal Security Forces fired from the safety of their cover at the mass of droids, while Force Lord Revan drew their concentration.
It was a tactic they had been using to great aplomb for the last twelve hours. The sun was setting, rich and vibrant from the smoke particulates in the air, and Panaka could almost see the future historical painting of this time, bright and vibrant in his mind's eye. Lord Revan standing tall and fierce in his armor, the brave Nubian soldiers behind him, and a flood of battledroids before them. Perhaps he'd have to commission a piece once this was all over. He'd recorded every battle and skirmish they'd fought today, so he had plenty of inspiration for the painter, and records for the Naboo Royal Historical Society.
Lord Revan had examined the battledroids and noticed their lack of nightvision or IR sensors, so this would probably be the final skirmish of the Defense of Theed for the evening, starting back up once dawn rose. Captain Panaka was grateful for the Trade Federation's cheapness, as all the soldiers had been growing tired, even with rotations in and out of Theed, and Lord Revan working the Force to cleanse their fatigue.
It surprised him, though, as he took a pot-shot at an officer droid, to suddenly see two more beams of light join the fray, one blue and one green, revealing a bearded, older man and a younger, clean-shaven man, wearing brown and tan robes that Captain Panaka instantly recognized from various holovids and documentaries. With the introduction of two more Jedi, the skirmish quickly came to a close.
Lord Revan quickly disengaged his lightsabers and motioned an all-clear when the final droid fell. The Jedi kept their blades ignited and made no move to approach. Lord Revan had spoken of this, in the moments in-between combat, that the Jedi may act cautiously or even violently around him because of Lord Revan's different beliefs in the Force. So Captain Panaka calmly walked over to Lord Revan and called out to the Jedi.
"Hail, Jedi. I am Captain Panaka of the Royal Security Forces, and if you both are anything like Force Lord Revan here, we desperately could use your assistance in the defense of Theed."
A look of shock, recognition, and disbelief crosses the younger Jedi's face, while the older Jedi simply looks inscrutable. So the Jedi know of Lord Revan, but obviously did not expect him to be here. Something he shall have to tell his Queen.
Before either Jedi could respond, Lord Revan spoke, his mask's vocoder turning his voice distorted and deep. He'd taken off the mask to eat earlier, and Panaka had found Revan to be a handsome olive-skinned human man in his late forties, with curly dark hair, vibrant purple eyes, and a mellifluous and quiet voice, nothing at all like the Corellian demon his mask made him sound.
"Master Jedi and Padawan, I mean you no harm and seek no conflict between us. I would be glad for your assistance against the Droid Army, when they began maneuvers tomorrow morning."
The older Jedi said, "You are a Dark Sider. I can feel the shadows that wrap around you."
"Can you also see the light that shines, steadily and unceasingly?" Lord Revan replied. "Yes, I use the Dark Side of the Force, but I also use the Light Side."
"Impossible," the younger Jedi spouted. "Once you Fall to the Dark Side, there is no coming back."
"That may be what the Masters tell you, but that is not strictly true. But that does not matter at the moment. What does is the truth; I am not your enemy, Jedi, and I will not become your enemy unless you force such a thing on me."
"I sense no lies, and he is not wrong. It is… possible to come back from the Dark Side, but the process is painful and difficult and costly," the older Jedi admitted. "I am Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my Padawan Learner, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Take us to the Queen and we shall see what we can do for her, in this illegal conflict. If fighting alongside a Dark Sider is what she wishes us to do, then do it we shall."
"Please, call me a Force Lord. I use both sides of the Force and am defined by neither, despite what the Jedi believe."
Master Jinn gritted his teeth, but nodded. "Fighting alongside a Force Lord, then."
The ride back to Theed was cheerful despite the moodiness of the Jedi, the Royal Security Forces receiving a hero's welcome from the citizens who cheered and cast flowers over the returning soldiers. Captain Panaka had callously predicted they would hold out an hour, maybe two, before the forces of the Trade Federation, and he had never been so happy to be proven wrong.
Maul was an instrument of his Master's will, a weaponed honed by years of strife and suffering to cut the heart out of the foolish Jedi, so blind to the Darkness that spread around them. He had killed Jedi before, in the last few years, on secretive missions designed to leave no trace or hint that the Sith still existed, to train him in the art of assassination. But now was the time of his unveiling.
The sniveling Trade Federation leader had offered him anything and everything for his task, but Darth Maul had no need for useless droids that would be little better than cannon fodder in a fight between wielders of the Force. This would be a battle between Light and Dark, between the faded, corrupted legacy of the Jedi Order and the resurgent, adaptive Sith. And Darth Maul would win. The Dark Side sang of victory to him, sweet and savage.
Darth Maul landed his custom stealth-fighter near where the golden-sabered Jedi had last been reported, though claims of blue and green-sabered Jedi had been reported as well. No matter. Once Darth Maul was finished with the first interloper, the other two would be easy prey, foolishly distraught over the loss of their comrade.
He cloaked himself in the Darkness, hiding him from the Force Senses of the foolish Light Sider as he calmly navigated the mass of panicking droids while the Jedi cut them down with his twin blades, practically glowing with the Light Side. Which made the fact that the Jedi glanced at him, and called out, "Ah, so this Sith
do still exist in this Era," so utterly frustrating.
Maul embraced his frustration and rage at being so easily spotted into a roaring charge as he ignited the top blade of his double-sided lightsaber.
It was not to be. Every slash, every stroke, every cutting strike, the damnable Jedi's blade was there. The battledroids were no help, firing into the melee and nearly hitting Maul as much as they hit the Jedi, causing Darth Maul to have to ignite his second blade and defend against the droids as much as he did the Jedi. It was infuriating, the uselessness of so-called allies.
For minutes they dueled, slowly clearing out the mass of battledroids with reflected blaster bolts and the occasional slice and dice when one got within blade length, and never once did Maul achieve the upper-hand. It began to feel more like one of Darth Sidious's interminable and dastardly training sessions than a true fight, and Maul fed the Dark Side deeply of his rage and frustration, pushing his endurance and reaction-time far beyond baseline. Yet it was not enough. It was never enough.
When the second Jedi arrived, an older bearded human with a green lightsaber, that was Maul's cue to pull back and try another approach. He had begun to pull back, to turn away and flee to his ship, when the golden-sabered Jedi suddenly erupted with the Dark Side, and a bone-chilling fear stuck Maul fast, freezing him in his flight.
He felt like a child again, trapped and alone on Mustafar, surrounded by screaming spirits and uncaring droids. No one would save him. No one
could save him. Struck fast by unnatural fear, he could only gaze in horror as the golden lightsaber slid easily through his right forearm, his sword-arm, his hand falling uselessly to the grassy plain, holding his lightsaber. The silver blade lopped off his left hand, and Maul could only shiver in utter terror, flailing wildly in the Force before the Jedi-who-was-a-Sith spoke, "
Sleep," and Maul knew no more.
Darth Maul's ship returned to the
Guaranteed Returns, but Darth Maul was not aboard. Death had come to the Lucrehulk war-freighter, and Nute Gunray was powerless to stop him. The battledroids had been less than useful, and the droideka's barely phased the monster. The half-meter thick durasteel doors that locked down the bridge from the rest of the ship were not nearly enough to stop the Jedi or Sith or whatever he was, merely slowing him down as he methodically cut a hole in the door.
The round hunk of durasteel fell to the floor with a resounding clang, and a cold seeped through that had Nute Gunray shivering as he pointed the blaster pistol in his hand at the figure that steadily advanced through the hole.
"Surrender," came the cold, mechanical voice, "or you may find yourself needing new cybernetic prosthetics."
Above everything else, Nute Gunray was a coward who'd rather live than suffer. Carefully he set the blaster pistol down on the console before him, the other organic officers of the bridge crew releasing sighs of relief as they too surrendered. Lord Sidious may be able to choke him across the galaxy, but this monster was right before him, and Nute rather liked his limbs.
Under the monster's order—he named himself Force Lord Revan and claimed to not be a Jedi—all droids were given the retreat code, abandoning their occupation of the planet and returning to landing craft in haste. Lord Revan demanded they cede one full Lucrehulk to Naboo, as reparations for the invasion, and Nute was happy enough to get away with losing only a single war-freighter.
Within a single Coruscanti day, the Trade Federation had packed up and were ready to leave, giving the command codes and establishing Queen Amidala as designated commander of the Lucrehulk war-freighter
Gold Standard and its legion of droids. Lord Sidious had been furious, at the loss of his Apprentice and at the retreat, but only choked Nute for a little while, recognizing the futility of blaming the Nemoidian for the appearance of not one, but three Jedi on the battlefield. The Trade Federation council was just glad they were ending the pointless and drastic endeavor with so little material loss, and without Republic censure, which they surely would have gotten had it continued on much longer.
Soon Nute would be back on Nemoidia, with his wives and concubines, no crazed wizards to control him, no horrible Jedi to slaughter his forces. Soon, everything would be alright and back to normal.
When Force Lord Revan had taken off his Sith deathmask, Master Qui-Gon Jinn had been absolutely certain what he would see; yellow eyes, pallid, corpse-like skin, even mutations and scars. The signs of a Dark Sider that all Masters know. That he knows, personally, from past mistakes and tragedies.
Healthy, smooth olive skin and vibrant purple eyes greet Qui-Gon with an amused look, as if Lord Revan knew what Qui-Gon expected and was entertained by the notion. An impossibility for a man who had used the Dark Side right in front of him not five hours ago, to hold in place with deep fear the Zabrak Lord Revan claimed a true Sith, before he amputated the being's hands. Any Light within him had fallen to the barest flame amongst the cloak of shadows he had become, and he carried that Darkness with him into orbit, where he dealt directly with the leader of the Trade Federation army.
That Light now flared bright and healthy, the shadows that hung like clouds around his presence lacking depth and richness, pale imitations of what they'd been only hours before. Lord Revan dug into the meal before them, at the hastily assembled Victory Feast the Queen had put together.
Lord Revan was an enigma, even to a man used to the strangeness of the Force. He used the Dark, yet was not corrupted by it. He used the Dark, and yet the Light forgave him his sins, every time. He claimed the name of the greatest of Jedi Knights and the darkest of Sith Lords, the ancient mistake of the Jedi Council, yet asserted to be of neither Order. Only those well-versed in ancient history would know of Revan, as the Jedi had worked over the years to erase the knowledge of their grand mistake. Rare was it, nowadays, for any less than a Jedi Knight to learn of Darth Revan and his twisting path, and much knowledge of him had been lost since that time, due to various sackings of Coruscant and Jedi choosing to rid such knowledge from the Archives with righteous, if misguided Qui-Gon believed, zeal.
For a stranger, one familiar with both Jedi arts and Sith techniques, to claim such a name, entails a deep understanding of galactic history. For deep in the Jedi Archives, there are claims that Darth Revan eventually learned to wield
both sides of the Force, and worked alongside Jedi and Sith alike to save the galaxy. Legends, most Masters claim, impossible tales. Daydreams and legends.
And yet, proof of such thing sat and ate heartily in front of him. An abomination of the Force, some Masters would claim. A Sith by any other name, others would say, dismissively. A tragedy, Master Yoda would call it.
But Qui-Gon? Qui-Gon was curious. The Force did not twist unnaturally around Lord Revan, like he had seen it with other Dark Siders. It accepted his use as natural. Lord Revan was no abomination, of that much Qui-Gon was certain.
The man laughed like any man, as Captain Panaka told a mildly grim joke about a droid and an EMP grenade, and offered a military joke of his own, one that Qui-Gon distinctly remembered hearing in Keldabe, back on Mandalore.
"Are you Mandalorian?" Qui-Gon could not help asking.
Lord Revan chuckled. "With how many I've killed, you think those battlenuts would hate me, but yes, I suppose I am quite Mandalorian. I wear armor, I educated my…. children in their ways, I practice self-defense, I speak Mando'a." The man paused, a considering look on his face. "I suppose I should visit Mandalore soon, and given
Resol'nare to the current
Mandalor. I'm curious to see how they've survived in the current Era. Canderous was a rather rambunctious fellow. I'm sure his descendants are no better."
"I think you would be rather surprised, Lord Revan. The New Mandalorians are pacifists. They don't practice the
Resol'nare. The Traditionalists lost the civil war, and Duchess Satine is now the ruler of Mandalore. She banned the use of armor by civilians," his Padawan spoke up from nearby.
Lord Revan looked honestly flabbergasted. Pure shock radiated from his presence as he said, "The current
Mandalor is a pacifist? She banned armor? What the kriff is she smoking? She's going to get assassinated in a decade, no doubt. Pacifist Mandalorians…" Revan sighed. "What a ridiculous concept."
Obi-Wan bristled at the insult to his teenage sweetheart, and said, "She's done a lot of good, helped bring the Mandalore Sector back into the Galactic Republic and restore the economy after the twin disasters of the Clan Wars and the Mandalorian Civil War. Mandalore still hasn't recovered since the Excession, but she's been trying to get it terraformed, now that Mandalorians don't have a warlike reputation."
"Still, that's bound to have upset a
lot of Clans. I wouldn't be surprised if there were some underground movement to install a new, more warlike
Mandalor on the throne." He paused. "What is the Excession? That must be after my time."
Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "You are familiar enough with Mandalorians to give the
Resol'nare but you don't know of the Excession?"
"I am Revan, Master Jinn. This is not my time or galaxy. I am ignorant of many matters you take for granted."
Once again, the man was staking the claim he was
actually the real Revan, a ludicrous thing to consider. Much more likely he was from a secretive sect of Force Users who base their teaching off of Revan, from the Unknown Regions where Revan was known to have spent years out of contact, who themselves had been out of contact with the wider galaxy for millennia.
"The Excession happened around seven hundred years ago, when the ruling
Mandalor attempted to secede from the Galactic Republic, and forced much of the surrounding systems to secede with them by use of massive fleets and orbital bombardment until they agreed. The Republic and the Jedi were forced to remove much of the Mandalore Sector's industrial and military might to stop their war machine, ending with entire worlds ruined and destroyed from orbital bombardment. The final Siege of Mandalore turned much of the planet into an irradiated desert, from which it has still not recovered."
Lord Revan listened to Master Jinn's words with a placid look, but did not hide his growing anger in the Force.
"I see. They must hate you for it, greatly. And it must burn those who despise these 'New Mandalorians' even more, that she cavorts and favors the Republic which destroyed Mandalore. I find myself quite upset at the thought. That the Jedi would destroy so much, and never lift a finger to restore it afterwards." He paused. "I am, of course, assuming that much of those planets destroyed remain so to this day."
Obi-Wan winced. "That… is not incorrect, to my knowledge."
"Hmm," was all Lord Revan said, before he dismissed the two and began speaking with the Governor a few seats down.
