Episode 26 - Split the Party
Stardate: 41381.2
Earth Standard Date: May 19, 2364.
Location: T'Pol's Planetary Domicile, Solacium, Haven, Beta Cassius System.
The house that T'Pol claimed on Haven as her Planetary Domicile was incredible. Not only did it offer a breathtaking view of Haven's lush landscape, but the entire building was ingeniously constructed around a natural hot spring, providing private access for each suite.
Tyson sat hunched over a wooden table. His Lightsaber was dismantled into many pieces scattered about. Among the pile was the purple crystal from Revan's lightsaber. Next to it was the Opila Crystal, the lightsaber crystal he'd found in the Krayt Dragon cave on Tatooine. Vicky, through her VIs, spread throughout what remained of the Sith fleet, had learned the special properties of the crystal. Opila Crystals created a lightsaber blade that was far more intense and could cut through materials in a quarter of the time it took other blades. Additionally, Beskar, Cortosis, and other materials generally resistant to or immune to lightsabers still took some damage from the Opila crystal's blade.
Tyson wasn't an expert on lightsaber construction, but he didn't need to be. The Force guided his actions and his control. With his eyes closed, the lightsaber pieces all levitated. He took a deep breath, centering himself in the moment. The warm breeze of Haven rustled through the open windows, carrying the scent of exotic flowers and salt from the distant sea.
As he exhaled, Tyson felt the Force flow through him like a gentle current. It connected him to each component of the lightsaber, from the power cell to the focusing lens.
The hilt, a cylinder of polished durasteel, formed the core. Around it, the various components aligned themselves. The power cell was slotted into place, followed by the energy gate and the blade emitter. Tyson's brow furrowed slightly as he concentrated on the delicate circuitry, ensuring each connection was perfect.
The Opila Crystal hovered at the center. He could feel its power, a resonance that harmonized with the Force flowing through him. With infinite care, the crystal aligned itself within the focusing chamber.
As the assembly continued, Tyson delved deeper into his connection with the Force. He sensed the potential of the weapon taking shape before him. It wasn't just a tool, but an extension of himself, a conduit for the Force. The activation switch found its home on the hilt, and the final pieces of the outer casing locked into place. Tyson opened his eyes, seeing the fully assembled lightsaber floating before him. He reached out, feeling its weight settle into his palm. His fingers curled around the hilt as he stood. He took a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship, running his thumb over the activation switch. With a deep breath, he ignited the blade.
A brilliant beam of energy erupted from the hilt with a distinctive snap-hiss. The blade was a deep, vibrant purple on its edges, but the blade's center, its core, was a bright white, more intense than any lightsaber Tyson had seen before. It created an effect that the lightsaber blade looked almost white, with a violet edge encircling it.
Tyson moved through a series of practice forms, feeling the balance and responsiveness of his new weapon. The blade cut through the air, leaving faint afterimages in its wake.
After deactivating the lightsaber, Tyson settled it at his back, where it was kept within his Gray Goo Suit. Now, all he needed was someone to train him in its use. He'd been relying too much on his physical attributes and not on skill. And during his duel with Revan, it showed. He walked to the window, looking out over Haven's lush landscape. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and purple.
T'Pol's voice came from behind him. "Perhaps I misunderstood you. The last time we were on Haven, I believed that you intended to use the hot springs as an excuse to appreciate my physical form. Had I known you'd have spent most of the time in a room alone with your lightsaber, I would have adjusted my expectations accordingly."
Tyson turned, smiling as he took in the sight of T'Pol. She stood in the doorway, garbed in just a bikini that left little to the imagination.
"T'Pol! Was that a masturbation joke?" he asked as his eyes appreciatively roamed over her figure. "Is that your way of saying you feel like I'm not paying enough attention to you?"
T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "Unfortunately for you, it is time for me to return to Enterprise."
Tyson's face fell into an exaggerated pout. "Already? But we've barely had any time together."
T'Pol crossed the room and stopped before him, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. He raised his hand, two fingers extended. T'Pol mirrored his action, bringing her fingers to meet his. The moment their skin touched, their minds opened to each other in a brief but intense connection. Tyson was flooded with T'Pol's thoughts and emotions. Her logical appreciation of their time together, a deep-seated affection that she would never openly admit to, and a hint of regret at having to leave. In return, he shared his feelings, his admiration for her intellect and beauty, the comfort he found in her presence, and a promise to make their next encounter more focused on her.
As their mental connection faded, T'Pol leaned in and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was brief but passionate, a departure from her usual reserved demeanor. Without another word, T'Pol turned and walked towards the portal she conjured in the room. She paused at the threshold, glancing back over her shoulder. For a moment, Tyson thought she might say something more, but instead, she stepped through, disappearing in a flash of light.
Tyson stood there for a long moment, his fingers tingling from their touch, his lips still warm from her kiss. Then he turned back to the window and watched as the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep purples and blues.
— Star Jumper —
Captain Archer sat in his quarters aboard the NX-01 Enterprise, gazing out the window at the swirling vortex of the Delphic Expanse. He scratched Porthos behind the ears as the beagle rested comfortably on his lap.
"Good boy. Cheese?" Archer tossed a small piece, and Porthos caught it mid-air with a satisfying snap of his jaws. "This is your last piece."
A shimmering distortion appeared, and Daniels, the time traveler from the 31st century, materialized before him. "It's okay. How've you been, Jon?"
Archer eyed the man warily. "About time you showed up. Our mission's changed quite a bit since the last time I saw you, but I suppose you're aware of it."
"I am," Daniels replied with a nod.
Porthos growled softly, sensing Archer's tension. The captain stroked the dog's fur to calm him. "Maybe you could fill in a few of the blanks for me. The Xindi weapon would be a good place to start."
"We don't know any more than you do," Daniels said, spreading his hands.
Archer scoffed. "I thought you and your colleagues were supposed to be keeping an eye on the timeline. You're from the 30th century. Hasn't all this happened already?"
"History doesn't mention anything about a conflict between humans and Xindi."
"How could that be? The events that are taking place are the result of temporal incursions. They are not supposed to be happening."
"Yes, they are, but the outcome hasn't reached us yet. It takes a while for changes to ripple through the timeline."
Archer considered this, absently scratching Porthos's ears. "The time traveler, the man the Suliban worked for..."
"What about him?"
"He's the one who told us about the weapon being built. Should I believe him?"
"You have no reason not to," Daniels said simply.
Archer frowned. "You said I'm supposed to play some crucial part in history. Does this have something to do with it?"
Daniels shook his head. "I wish I could say that it does, but I don't know. I told you, none of this was supposed to happen."
Frustration crept into Archer's voice. "You're not being very helpful. Why are you here?"
"We've detected three Xindi where they're not supposed to be."
"This Expanse is filled with Xindi."
"I'm not talking about the Expanse," Daniels said gravely. "I'm talking about Detroit, Michigan, a hundred and fifty years ago."
Daniels' expression shifted from grave to urgent. "Captain, I need to send you back to stop these Xindi and place temporal tags on any items they've brought with them. We can't allow them to contaminate the timeline. But time is of the essence. You can bring one other person with you for backup."
Archer stood, gently placing Porthos on the floor. The beagle whined softly. "I'll speak with T'Pol. Her logical approach could be invaluable in a situation like this."
Daniels' brow furrowed, a look of confusion crossing his face. "T'Pol? Captain, did T'Pol not die months ago on the Seleya?"
Archer stared at Daniels, bewildered. "What are you talking about? T'Pol is alive and well. She's in her quarters right now."
"That can't be," Daniels insisted. "Our records clearly show that T'Pol perished during the incident with the Vulcan ship Seleya. It was a significant event in the timeline."
"Your records must be outdated, Daniels. T'Pol is very much alive, thanks to Lieutenant Tyson. He retrieved her from the Seleya."
Now, it was Daniels' turn to look confused. His eyes narrowed as he processed this new information. "Lieutenant Tyson? I'm not familiar with that name. Who is he?"
"You don't know about Tyson?" Archer asked, genuinely surprised. He crossed his arms, studying Daniel's reaction. "I thought you were supposed to know everything that happens in our time. Tyson singlehandedly returned T'Pol from the Seleya."
"That shouldn't be right," Daniels said, concerned. "But it could explain why our records don't match up with your reality. This Tyson's presence might be causing ripples in the timeline that we haven't detected yet."
An hour later, the chime of the doorbell within T'Pol's quarters roused her from her sleep. She rose and crossed the room to open the door.
Captain Archer stood outside, Porthos trotting at his heels. The beagle wasted no time making himself at home, sniffing around curiously as he entered T'Pol's quarters.
"Sorry to get you up, but this couldn't wait," Archer said, his expression grave.
T'Pol tilted her head slightly. "Come in."
Archer stepped inside, hands clasped behind his back. "I just had a visit from Daniels. I think all your doubts about time travel are about to go out the window."
T'Pol arched a delicate eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"Daniels and his team have discovered three Reptilians on Earth in the early twenty-first century. He wants to send us back to find out what they're doing."
Her eyes widened imperceptibly. "Us?"
Archer nodded. "He told me I could bring one person, no more."
Skepticism tinged T'Pol's voice. "If Daniels is the time traveler he claims to be, why doesn't he find out for himself?"
"It took him a long while to get permission to interact with me. There are clearances." Archer shrugged. "He said it would take too much time."
"I would think he would have all the time in the world," T'Pol pointed out dryly.
"He said the three Xindi traveled to Earth from our century. They've been there for two months." Archer's expression hardened. "They're not sightseeing, T'Pol. We have to find out what they're up to."
She considered this, her mind already calculating the potential ramifications. "How are we supposed to accomplish this?"
"He wants us to meet him in the Command Center at oh eight hundred tomorrow." Archer gestured to Porthos, who had settled comfortably on the floor. "Come on, boy. Time to check the database. We need to find something to wear that won't stand out in 2004."
— Star Jumper —
"Tyson!" Mission cheered as he stepped through the portal onto the deck of the Ebon Hawk. She bounded over, her lekku swinging behind her. "We've been waiting for you."
Tyson glanced around, noting the empty crew quarters. "Just you, Mission?"
She nodded. "The others are off doing their own things. Bastila's at the Jedi Enclave on some important business." Her tone took on a teasing lilt. "Probably more lectures on the dangers of the dark side."
"I'm sure she's riveted by every word."
"Yeah, well, at least she has that going for her." Mission shrugged. "Carth and Big Z went hunting kath hounds. Apparently, the things have been harassing some of the local farmers."
"And Canderous?" Tyson prompted.
"Oh, he's out trying to get in touch with some of the Mandalorian raiders in the area. Wants to see if he can get them to change their 'marauding' ways and band together under his leadership."
"I take it you opted to stay behind?"
"Are you kidding?" Mission scoffed. "I'm not getting anywhere near those kath hounds. Besides, someone had to stick around and wait for you."
Tyson smiled, grateful for her understanding. "Never. So, what's the plan? Should we wait for the others to regroup, or should we go track them down?"
Mission tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, Bastila's probably going to be a while with all that Jedi stuff. And who knows when Carth and Canderous will be back?" She grinned. "Why don't you tell me what you've been up to? I'm sure you've got some crazy stories."
Tyson laughed. He settled onto one of the couches, gesturing for Mission to join him. "Alright, but you might want to get comfortable. This is going to take a while..."
Tyson leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You wanna hear a secret?"
"Of course! Spill it, already!"
"So, you've seen my Personal Reality, where I opened portals," Tyson began, his voice low and conspiratorial. "But what you didn't know was that it connects to other galaxies."
Mission's lekku twitched with excitement. "Other galaxies? No way!"
"After you guys left Taris, it didn't take long to defeat Malak. But I didn't spend weeks with the Sith. I was actually in that other galaxy."
"Wait, what?"
"It's where I started before I ended up on the Endar Spire and on Taris," Tyson explained. "It's where D'Lavina came from, too. In that galaxy, the group I'm with is called the United Federation of Planets, or Federation for short. They have some cool technology. Their mission is mostly peaceful exploration."
"Peaceful exploration?" Mission echoed skeptically. "Sounds boring compared to what we've been through."
Tyson chuckled. "They frequently run into problems of their own, but you're right. It's nothing like what we faced on Taris or like what I fought on Tatooine."
Mission perked up at the mention of Tatooine. "Wait, what did you fight on Tatooine?"
"Oh, that's a story worth telling. Ever heard of a Krayt Dragon?"
Mission nodded vigorously. "Yeah, those massive beasts that live in the desert caves. We didn't leave the ship much on Tatooine, but the locals said they're practically invincible."
"Well," Tyson said, leaning back with a smug grin, "I captured one."
Mission's jaw dropped. "You're kidding! How in the galaxy did you manage that?"
Tyson launched into his tale. Mission listened, completely enthralled. "I had to be clever about it. First, I captured some Banthas. Then, I created a portal near the Krayt Dragon."
"Portals?" Mission interrupted. "Like the ones you use to get into your Personal Reality?"
"Exactly," Tyson nodded. "It led directly into my Mythical Menagerie. The Dragon took the bait, and voila."
"Mythical Menagerie?" Mission's eyes widened. "You have a zoo in there, too?"
Tyson grinned. "Something like that. It's where I keep all the interesting creatures I've encountered."
Mission's eyes were as wide as saucers. "That's... that's incredible! But wait, isn't it dangerous to have a Krayt Dragon just... living in your Personal Reality?"
Tyson shook his head. "The Menagerie is its own self-contained space designed to care for even the most powerful creatures safely."
"Wow," Mission breathed. "I can't believe you actually caught a Krayt Dragon. That's even more impressive than taking down the rancor in the Undercity!"
Tyson chuckled, but then he stopped suddenly. He asked seriously, "Wait, is there really a rancor in the Undercity? We need to go back so I can catch that, too."
Mission shook her head in amazement. "You know, Tyson, just when I think I've got you figured out, you go and tell me something like this. A Jedi who can open portals and goes on extragalactic adventures. Is there anything you can't do?"
Tyson's expression softened. "Plenty, Mission. I'm just fortunate to have had some unique opportunities and abilities. But trust me, I'm still learning and growing, just like everyone else."
Mission nodded thoughtfully, "I guess that's true. Still, what you've accomplished is pretty amazing." She paused, then declared. "I want to come with you on your adventures. You seriously can't leave me behind again."
The hum of approaching engines caught Tyson and Mission's attention. They exchanged a glance before heading to the Ebon Hawk's loading ramp. As they stepped out, Canderous strode up with a group of Mandalorians.
"Took you long enough," he grunted, his eyes scanning Tyson appraisingly.
Tyson shrugged. "Had some business to attend to. I see you've been busy yourself."
Canderous nodded, gesturing to the warriors behind him. "These are just a few of the scattered Mandalorians I've managed to gather. There are more out there, waiting to be united under a strong leader."
Mission's eyes widened as she took in the group. "Wow, Canderous. When you said you were going to round up some of your old buddies, I didn't think you meant an entire army."
"This is just the beginning, kid. Which brings me to my next point." He turned to face Tyson fully. "I'm leaving Dantooine. There are more of our people out there, and it's time we brought them together."
"I understand. You're rebuilding your people."
"Exactly," Canderous confirmed. "But before I go, there's the matter of the Ebon Hawk to settle." He glanced around the ship's interior. "This was Davik's ship, and he's gone. Revan's gone, too. So, who does the Ebon Hawk belong to now?"
A tense silence fell over the group. Mission's eyes darted between Tyson and Canderous, her hand unconsciously moving towards her blaster. The Mandalorians behind Canderous shifted, their hands resting on their weapons.
Tyson met Canderous's gaze steadily. In a low voice, he asked, "Want to fight for it?"
For a moment, the air crackled with tension. Then, unexpectedly, Canderous let out a bark of laughter. "Against the Taris Dueling champion and the Jedi who killed both Darth Malak and Revan? No thanks. You can keep it. The ship isn't worth that much."
The tension dissipated as quickly as it had come. Mission let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and even the Mandalorians seemed to relax slightly.
Canderous held his hand out and grasped Tyson's forearm, his voice filled with respect as he spoke. "You are Mandalorian, Tyson. You've earned your armor. You defeated our enemies, Malak and Revan. Seek us out should you need help."
Tyson inclined his head slightly. "I'm honored, Canderous. May your journey be successful."
As Canderous turned to leave, one of the Mandalorians spoke up. "But sir, are you sure about this? Leaving such a valuable asset behind?"
Canderous fixed the warrior with a stern look. "The Ebon Hawk is just a ship. What matters is the warrior who commands it. And this warrior," he nodded towards Tyson, "has proven himself worthy of it."
The Mandalorian nodded, chastened. "I understand, sir."
As the group prepared to depart, Mission called out. "Hey, Canderous. Take care of yourself out there, okay? And maybe drop us a line once in a while to let us know how you're doing?"
For a moment, Canderous's gruff exterior softened. "Sure thing, kid. You take care of yourself, too. And keep an eye on this one," he jerked his thumb towards Tyson.
With a final nod to Tyson and Mission, Canderous and his group of Mandalorians departed. The sound of their ships' engines firing up filled the air, and soon, they were nothing more than specks in the Dantooine sky.
As the dust settled from the Mandalorians' departure, Tyson and Mission heard the sound of approaching footsteps. They turned to see Bastila striding towards them.
"I sensed a disturbance," She said. "Word reached the Enclave that a group of Mandalorians was approaching. I came as quickly as I could."
"Well, you're a little late to the party, Bastila. Canderous and his new Mandalorian buddies just took off."
"Canderous left? Without so much as a farewell?"
"That's a Mandalorian for you," Tyson shrugged. "Not big on goodbyes."
"I see. You must have been the disturbance I sensed. Welcome back, Tyson," Bastila said, her tone a mixture of relief and disappointment. "And what of the others? Carth and Zaalbar?"
As if on cue, the familiar figures of Carth Onasi and the towering Wookiee emerged from the grasslands. Carth's blaster was holstered, but his hand rested near it out of habit. Zaalbar carried his bowcaster in one hand and a few dead kath hounds slung over his other shoulder.
"Speak of the devil," Mission grinned. "How was the hunt, Big Z?"
Zaalbar let out a series of growls and barks. Mission nodded along, translating for the others. "He says the kath hounds were more trouble than usual. But nothing they couldn't handle."
Carth chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, those beasts put up quite a fight. But between Zaalbar's strength and my aim, we made short work of them." He glanced around, noticing the absence of their Mandalorian companion. "So, where's Canderous? Don't tell me he's still out there trying to recruit more Mandalorians."
"You just missed him," Tyson explained. "He left with a group he'd gathered. Said something about uniting his people."
Carth's expression hardened slightly. "Figures. Once a Mandalorian, always a Mandalorian, I guess."
Bastila frowned. "That's hardly fair, Carth. Canderous fought alongside us. He's proven himself a valuable ally."
"I know, I know," Carth sighed. "Old habits die hard, I suppose. Speaking of which..." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the group. "I think it's about time I reported back to the Republic fleet. They'll be wanting a full debrief on everything that's happened."
Mission's face fell. "You're leaving too? But we just got the band back together!"
Carth smiled softly at the young Twi'lek. "I'm afraid so, Mission. The Republic needs every able officer it can get right now. There's still a lot of rebuilding to do after the war with the Sith."
Zaalbar let out a mournful howl, which Mission translated with a sad smile. "Big Z says he'll miss you, you big softie."
"I'll miss you too, you walking carpet," Carth chuckled, reaching up to pat Zaalbar's arm. He turned to Bastila and Tyson, his expression growing more serious. "It's been an honor fighting alongside both of you. The Republic owes you a debt it can never fully repay."
Bastila inclined her head graciously. "The honor was ours, Carth. Your bravery and dedication were instrumental in our victory."
"Yeah, what she said," Tyson added with a grin. "Though I think we could have done without some of your paranoid rants."
Carth laughed. "Hey, a little paranoia kept us alive, didn't it? But seriously, Tyson, I'm glad we found you on that freighter. You're a good man and a hell of a fighter."
"High praise coming from you, Carth," Tyson said, extending his hand. Carth grasped it firmly, the two men sharing a moment of mutual respect.
"So, what's next for you?" Carth asked, looking around at the group. "Back to the Jedi Enclave for more training?"
Bastila shook her head. "I'm not sure. The Council was quick to accept Revan back into the fold to use against Malak. But after everything that happened..." She trailed off, her gaze drifting to the horizon.
"Well, whatever you decide, I'm sure it'll be the right choice," Carth said. He turned to Mission and Zaalbar. "What about you two? Heading back to Taris? Maybe Kashyyyk?"
Zaalbar growled softly, and Mission translated. "Big Z says he's not ready to go back just yet. We were considering sticking with Tyson for a while if he would have us."
All eyes turned to Tyson, who grinned. "Are you kidding? Of course."
"Great!" Mission beamed. "Looks like the adventure continues!"
"Well, I'd better get going. I'll arrange for transport back to the fleet." He paused, looking at each of his companions in turn. "Take care of yourselves out there. And if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call."
"Same goes for you, Carth," Tyson said. "The Republic's lucky to have you."
As Carth turned to leave, Bastila said, "May the Force be with you, Carth."
The pilot smiled over his shoulder. "And with all of you. Good luck out there. Something tells me you're going to need it."
"You don't need to find transport. You should take the Ebon Hawk." Tyson's words halted Carth mid-stride.
The statement was met with stunned silence. All eyes turned to Tyson, a mixture of surprise and confusion etched on their faces.
Carth was the first to find his voice. "What? Tyson, are you serious?"
"The Ebon Hawk isn't really my ship. It was Davik's, then Revan's, D'Lavina's, and only mine when I stole it from her, but briefly before it was stolen back." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the freighter. "It doesn't feel like my ship."
Mission's lekku twitched in confusion. "But Tyson, we've been through so much on this ship. It's... It's our home."
Bastila stepped forward, her brow furrowed. "I must agree with Mission. The Ebon Hawk has been instrumental in our journey. Are you certain about this?"
Tyson smiled, understanding their concern. "I appreciate what this ship means to all of you. But the truth is, I already have my own vessel." He turned to Carth, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Besides, supposedly, you're the best pilot of us all. You should have it."
Carth stood there, momentarily speechless. His eyes darted between Tyson and the Ebon Hawk as if trying to process the unexpected offer. "I... I don't know what to say, Tyson. This is... unexpected."
Zaalbar let out a series of growls and barks, which Mission translated with a hint of sadness. "Big Z says he understands why you're doing this, but he'll miss the ship. We've made a lot of memories here."
Bastila asked, "Are you certain about this?"
Tyson met her gaze steadily. "The Ebon Hawk has served its purpose for us. Now, it can serve the Republic, with Carth at the helm." What he hadn't said was that he didn't really need the ship. It served no purpose for him, and it would just sit in space in his Personal Reality. The Ebon Hawk had no upgrades he needed for the Iconic Interceptor, and if he ever wanted to build a fleet of his own, he had the Automated Repair Facility for that, the Iconic Interceptor could assist, and he wouldn't be using the Ebon Hawk in battle because it didn't carry the firepower or shields at a level that would make him feel comfortable.
Carth, still looking somewhat dazed, finally found his words. "Tyson, I... I'm honored."
Tyson clapped a hand on Carth's shoulder. "There's no one better suited to take her forward. So, what do you say? Will you accept her?"
Carth's eyes roamed over the ship's exterior. "I... yes. Yes, I accept." A smile slowly spread across his face. "Thank you, Tyson. This means more than you know."
Zaalbar let out a series of soft growls, which Mission translated. "Big Z says he hopes you'll take good care of her, Carth. She's been a good home to us."
"I promise I'll take good care of her," Carth said, "She'll serve the Republic well." The pilot turned to each of his companions in turn. "I can't thank you all enough for everything we've been through together. It's been... well, it's been one hell of a ride."
Mission stepped forward, throwing her arms around Carth in a tight hug. "We'll see you out there, you old geezer," she said, her voice muffled against his jacket.
Carth chuckled, patting her back gently. "Count on it, kid."
With a final nod to the group, Carth turned and made his way up the Ebon Hawk's loading ramp. The familiar whine of the engines starting up filled the air, stirring the grass around them. Mission sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Zaalbar placed a comforting arm around her shoulders as they watched the ship prepare for takeoff. The ramp closed with a hydraulic hiss, sealing Carth inside. Through the cockpit viewport, they could see him settling into the pilot's seat. The Ebon Hawk's repulsor lifts engaged, kicking up a swirl of dust and debris as the ship slowly rose from the ground. The group took a few steps back, shielding their eyes from the billowing cloud.
With a roar of its sublight engines, the Ebon Hawk tilted upward, its nose pointing towards the clear Dantooine sky. In a matter of moments, the ship that had been their home and refuge became a rapidly shrinking speck against the blue expanse.
The Ebon Hawk had been more than just a ship to the group. It had been a home, a sanctuary, and a faithful companion through their many adventures. But now, it was time for a new chapter to begin, both for the ship and for its former crew.
Bastila, still looking somewhat uncertain, spoke up. "While I understand your reasoning, Tyson, I can't help but wonder about the practicalities. The Ebon Hawk was modified extensively and fit our needs. Are you certain your... other vessel will suffice?"
Tyson's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Trust me, Bastila. My ship will more than suffice. In fact, I think you'll find it quite impressive."
Mission bounced on her heels, excitement overtaking her initial hesitation. "Ooh, now I really want to see this mystery ship of yours, Tyson! When do we get to check it out?"
"All in good time, Mission," Tyson laughed.
Tyson, Bastila, Zaalbar, and Mission stood in silence for a moment, watching the ships disappear. Finally, Mission turned to Tyson, a mix of emotions playing across her face. "So, I guess it's just us now, huh? What are we going to do now? With Canderous gone and Carth heading back to the Republic."
Bastila said, "We do what we've always done, Mission. We keep moving forward. The Force will guide our footsteps."
Tyson turned to Bastila, his eyebrow raised in surprise. "We? I wasn't sure if you'd be leaving with us, Bastila."
"With the Sith defeated, I've been elevated to the Rank of Jedi Knight. I've far more freedom with where I go next, especially since my Battle Meditation won't be needed any longer. I find that for the first time, I disagreed with many of the Jedi Council's decisions. And after Revan's fall, well, the second fall, I find myself unsure about their teachings and what I learned and observed in my time around him."
She paused, her gaze drifting towards the horizon before returning to meet Tyson's eyes. "Plus, my mother is still within your Personal Reality. I'd like to spend more time with her now that she's healthy... if you don't mind."
Tyson's face broke into a warm smile. "I'll be happy to have you, Bastila. Your skills and insights will be invaluable."
Mission's lekku twitched with excitement as she bounced on her heels. "We're going to go on adventures in another galaxy, and catch a rancor, and maybe visit my dumb brother Griff. This is going to be great!"
Zaalbar let out a series of growls and barks, which Mission quickly translated. "Big Z says he's in, too."
Tyson nodded, his grin widening. "Glad to have you both on board. It'll be quite the adventure."
Bastila's brow furrowed slightly. "Another galaxy? Tyson, what exactly have you been telling them?"
"Oh, just a few stories about my travels," Tyson said with a casual wave of his hand. "Nothing too outlandish."
"I see," Bastila said, though her tone suggested she was far from convinced. "I'd very much like to see my mother first."
"Of course," Tyson nodded. "We can head there right now."
Zaalbar let out an inquisitive growl, which Mission translated. "Big Z wants to know if you have any Wroshyr trees in there. He says he misses the forests of Kashyyyk."
Tyson's eyes lit up. "Not yet, but that's a brilliant idea, Zaalbar! We'll have to visit your world at some point."
Mission bounced on her heels again, her excitement palpable. "So, when do we leave? I can't wait to see this ship of yours, Tyson. It must be pretty amazing if you're willing to give up the Ebon Hawk."
"Soon," Tyson promised.
— Star Jumper —
The woman sat rigidly in the passenger seat of the battered shuttle as it sailed through hyperspace, the hull scarred and pitted from countless journeys across the stars. She wore the unmistakable imprint of a harsh life. Deep lines creased her face, framing eyes that had seen too much but were now unseeing. Her steel-gray hair was plaited severely into two braids that fell through her hood across the front of her shoulders. She was garbed simply in heavy robes.
The young pilot checked his readings nervously, his worried gaze flickering back to rest uneasily on the woman. He swallowed hard before speaking.
"We're on the final leg of the journey, ma'am." His reedy voice betrayed his apprehension.
The woman did not answer right away, turning instead to gaze out the viewport as if searching for something only she could see. The silence hung heavy for a long moment before she replied, "The destination remains unchanged. Take us to Malachor V."
The pilot paled. "Malachor V? But...after the Mandalorian Wars, the planet is a graveyard. Nothing but broken ships and more ghosts than a man can count. Why would you want to go back there?" He shifted in his seat.
She turned the full weight of her gaze upon the pilot. Her look held no anger, yet her white eyes seemed to peel back his skin and lay bare everything underneath; his fears, his doubts, his secrets.
"I was exiled from the Jedi Order," she said at last, each word slow and heavy with bitter memory.
The pilot blinked in confusion. "Exiled? They're getting rid of Jedi when we need them to fight the Sith? That doesn't make sense."
"You have not heard," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "The Sith are scattered. Revan is dead, Malak is dead. Their grand design, their vision for the galaxy, has been shattered."
The pilot's eyes widened. "So, why were you exiled?" he asked, curious despite his unease.
Her milky eyes seemed to bore into him. "Because I was the master who taught Revan," she stated. "The Jedi blame me for his fall, though he turned to the dark side many years after becoming a knight and leaving my tutelage."
The pilot stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. "I thought Jedi were supposed to be wise. That's sad and seems shortsighted."
"Perhaps," she murmured. "But perhaps there is truth in it. That is why I am heading to Malachor V. To retrace the steps of my padawan, see the consequences of my teachings, to understand the nature of the Force itself."
"I see," he said, "We all know the story of how the Mandalorian Wars ended. Revan lured the Mandalorian fleet to the system and used some kind of weapon. Afterward, the Mandalorians were broken, just like the planet, and Revan rose as the new Sith Lord."
"Yes. The echoes of that battle still resonate in the Force. It is a wound that has not healed and perhaps never will."
The pilot cleared his throat. "We're exiting hyperspace now, ma'am. Initiating landing protocols." The shuttle shuddered, the viewport revealed the harsh, unforgiving form of Malachor V. As the vessel descended through the turbulent atmosphere, it was buffeted by fierce winds and the crackling energy of constant lightning storms.
Upon landing, the ramp hissed as it lowered, revealing the bleak landscape beyond. "I hope you find what you're looking for, ma'am."
She paused, her gaze fixed on the desolate vista before her. "Hope is a weakness," she said flatly. I seek understanding, not hope." She stepped onto the surface of Malachor V.
The air was thick with the smell of ozone and burnt metal. The ground beneath her feet was a wasteland, the surface marked with jagged cliffs and deep ravines. The sky was a perpetual storm, a swirling mass of dark clouds pierced by bolts of lightning that illuminated the landscape in brief, stark flashes. The land was a barren, shattered, and lifeless wasteland. She moved slowly, deliberately, as her dark robes billowed around her. Each step seemed measured, as if she were treading on sacred ground. The Force swirled around her, a chaotic storm of echoes and impressions. She could feel the residual energy of the battle, the pain, the fear, the rage. It was as if the very planet was screaming, a chorus of agony from the countless lives lost in the conflict.
She closed her eyes, focusing on the swirling currents of the Force. She reached out, seeking the echoes of Revan's presence, trying to understand his path and choices. She could feel his power, ambition, and burning desire to defeat the Mandalorians. But she could also sense the darkness that had consumed him, the corruption that had twisted his noble intentions.
As she walked, she could feel the imprint of his footsteps, the places where he had stood, the thoughts that had crossed his mind; the ghosts of the past, the battles fought, the lives lost. She could feel the weight of his choices, the burden of his actions.
Pausing at the edge of a deep ravine, she could see the wreckage of ships scattered across the landscape, their twisted metal frames jutting out of the ground like skeletal remains. Reaching out with the Force, she probed the depths of the ravine. She could feel the echoes of the battle, the screams of the dying, the clash of weapons. And beyond it all, she could feel the presence of the dark side, a corrupting influence that had seeped into the very fabric of the planet.
She closed her eyes, focusing on the swirling currents of the Force. Reaching out, she sought the source of the darkness, the heart of the corruption. She could feel it, a pulsating presence that seemed to throb with malevolent energy. It was a dark, twisted thing, a perversion of the Force born from the pain and suffering of the battle.
Steeling herself against the weight of the darkness that pressed in all around her, with slow, deliberate steps, she began to scale the ravine. The descent was treacherous, the ground shifting beneath her with each step, but she pressed on, guided by the Force and driven by a singular purpose.
As she descended deeper into the ravine, the air grew thick and stale, the echoes of the battle fading into a deafening silence. The walls of the ravine closed in around her, the light from above fading into a dim twilight. She could feel the weight of the planet pressing down on her, the darkness growing heavier with each step.
At last, she reached the bottom of the ravine, her feet coming to rest on a stable surface. She entered a series of underground passageways and caverns. The Malachor Depths.
She paused for a moment, reaching out with the Force, trying to get a sense of her surroundings. The darkness here was different, more focused, more deliberate. It felt as though she had stepped into the heart of a great beast, its presence pulsing all around her. The passageways twisted and turned, leading her deeper and deeper into the depths of the planet. She could feel the weight of the rock above her, the weight of the planet itself pressing down on her. But she pressed on, driven by a need to understand, to unravel the mysteries that lay before her.
As she rounded a corner, the passageway opened into a vast cavern, its walls stretching upward into darkness. In the center of the cavern, a single figure stood, his robes billowing around him, his face obscured by the shadows.
She approached cautiously, her hand resting on the hilt of her lightsaber. The figure turned towards her, and she could sense the red lightsaber blade he held ready. He was a Sith. She could feel his hatred and rage.
"Who dares to trespass in the Trayus Academy?" he hissed.
She stood her ground. "I am no trespasser."
The Sith assassin sneered. He lunged forward. She ignited her own lightsaber, the brilliant blue blade hummed to life, and met his attack head-on. The cavern was filled with a clash of lightsabers. They danced across the cavern floor. Throughout their fight, she could feel the darkness pressing in around her, but she held her ground. She sensed the echoes of the past, the ghosts of battles long since fought; felt Revan's presence like a guiding light in the darkness.
The Sith assassin was skilled, his movements fueled by a lifetime of training. But she was a master of the Force, her mind and body honed by years of discipline and study. With a deft flick of her wrist, she disarmed the Sith. He fell to his knees, his eyes wide with fear and disbelief.
"Why have you come to the Trayus Academy?" he gasped, his voice trembling.
She deactivated her lightsaber. "I come seeking knowledge," she said, her voice calm and measured. "Knowledge of the Force, of the darkness that consumed my former student, of the path that led him to his destruction."
The Sith assassin looked up at her, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "And what do you hope to find here?" he asked, his voice laced with venom.
She took in the ancient walls, the echoes of the past that lingered in the air. "I hope to find understanding," she said. I hope to understand the nature of the Force, the balance between light and dark, and the choices that led Revan down his path."
The Sith assassin snorted, his lip curling into a sneer. "Understanding?" he spat. "The only understanding you will find here is understanding your own weakness."
"We shall see," she answered.