A World Overturned
Revan. From the first time the name had turned up, whispered in the darkest corners of her mind, Isara Deir hated it. For Revan, the Endar Spire was destroyed. For Revan, Isara found herself stranded on Taris under Sith blockade, partnered with a man who clearly didn’t trust her any more than she trusted anyone. And though she didn’t realize it until much later, Revan had also been the reason she’d been forced to risk her life countless times to find Bastila after the young Jedi had been captured.
Because of Revan, Isara and Bastila had shared dreams, no, visions. Because of Revan, they ran off to Dantooine, hauling other clueless souls with them. Even if she hadn’t been sitting with them now, Isara could see their faces, seared into her mind. Mission, Zaalbar, Canderous, Carth, T3. Because of Revan, Isara had agreed to be trained to use the Force, in spite of her own personal reservations. And because of Revan, at the very end of Isara’s training, she was forced to take another lost soul into her fold. Juhani.
To follow Revan, Isara led an odd group of strangers from one end of the galaxy to the other. They found Star Maps, references to a Star Forge, and picked up a few more strangers. Jolee. HK-47. To follow Revan, they risked their lives countless times. Why? Because the Council thought it necessary. Because Isara and Bastila were having visions. Because no one knew what in Nine Corellian Hells a Star Forge was, but it sure as Bantha’s breath sounded bad.
But in following Revan, this little band of strangers became friends. How could they not? For in following Revan, they brought a worse hell down on themselves than any of them had ever imagined possible, least of all Isara herself. In following Revan, they came face-to-face with the greatest evil they had ever heard of; they faced Darth Malak, Revan’s former apprentice. And in that meeting, Isara Deir faced an even greater evil.
And she denied it. But in denying the evil that dwelt in her shattered mind, Isara lost the one member of their little group she had come to depend on most. She looked at him now and her heart broke as he refused to return the favor. Desperately, Isara sought to hold onto what peace was still left in her life. But with one question from one of her friends, every fragment of that peace was suddenly shattered.
“Where’s Bastila?”
Isara swallowed hard, but Carth beat her to the punch.
“She’s not coming,” he said sharply. Finally, he turned to face Isara, but his eyes conveyed betrayal more than anything else. “She gave her life… to save you.”
Near tears, Isara bowed her head. “She was taken by Malak.”
Mission’s eyes widened in dismay. “What? We have to help her.”
“We can’t!” Carth snapped.
“Carth is right,” Jolee said calmly. “If we go after Malak now, he’ll only destroy us. Our only hope is to continue the mission.”
Everyone seemed resigned to this course, but Carth wasn’t finished. He scowled at Isara. “Well? What about it? Are you going to tell them or should I?”
Six pairs of eyes and three photoreceptors bored into her. Tears now flowing freely, she shouted at him, “Carth, please! We don’t have time for this right now.”
She was grateful when he agreed and stormed off in the direction of the cockpit. Dazed, Isara stumbled away from the group and their questions, forgetting the chance that she might be needed at the gun turret. But Canderous saw that need and filled it. Mission and Zaalbar ran off together to find a place to sit until they were safer. Juhani tucked herself away in a corner, T3 shuffled off to see how he could make himself useful. Just as Isara was about to pass out of hearing range, HK commented about a desire to fry some meatbags and a lament that his master had designated all meatbags aboard ‘off-limits’. Only Jolee saw fit to follow the woman who had been leading the group almost from day one.
“Stop runnin’,” he growled good-naturedly. “Makes ya hard to keep up with, what with my arthritis an’ all.”
Isara wheeled on him, snarling, “What do you want, old man?”
Jolee cracked about the cheesiest grin Isara had ever seen. “What?” he demanded. “So the young whipper-snapper can ask questions whenever she wants, but the old man gets shushed? Oh, that’s about the best idea I’ve heard since the Wookiees stopped bathin’.”
In spite of her misery, Isara had to laugh, but in the process, more tears came. To her great surprise, Jolee wrapped his arms around her.
“Ssh,” he murmured. “You’ll be alright.”
“How can you say that?” she cried, burying her face in his shoulder.
“I can say it because I see how hard you’re tryin’ to deny the truth that just bit your nose,” he answered.
Shocked, she pulled away, and her jaw dropped open. “You knew?”
“Course I knew,” Jolee answered with a derisive snort. “I may be old an’ more’n half senile, but if you wanna insult my understanding of what’s goin’ on in the galaxy around me, you got another thing comin’.”
“You knew,” she whispered, still disbelieving.
“I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you,” he said. “But you said you were Isara Deir and who was I to argue?” Shaking his head, he said truthfully, “It wasn’t my place to tell you.”
Sighing, Isara turned and entered the dorm she had fled to. “I need time to think, Jolee.”
He nodded. “Of course you do.” And he withdrew.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Half an hour later, they were safely in hyperspace, en route to a little-known trading post in a practically unknown system called Yavin. At this time, Isara slowly left the dorm and began preparing a meal for herself and her companions. Halfway through her preparations, Mission joined her and attempted to weasel a bit more information on what had happened between Carth and Isara. But Isara was not in a talkative mood. Ten minutes later, she told Mission to call the others in for the meal.
Everyone came, but the tension around the table was so thick that no one could muster the courage to speak. Everyone knew that something was very wrong, but most assumed it had something to do with the loss of Bastila. Only a few minutes into the meal, Carth slammed his glass down and glared at Isara.
“I can’t pretend anymore,” he snapped. “You. Tell them. Now.”
The tears came easily again and Isara stood, planting her fists on either side of her plate. Leaning forward, she screamed at him, “I don’t care what that tin-voiced monster and his lackey told us. I am not Revan.”
The name hit the group like a ten-ton brick. Even Carth seemed a little astonished to hear it coming from Isara’s lips. But his astonishment was over in a flash and the judgmental glare returned.
“Bastila confirmed it,” he growled. “It’s no use denying it… Revan.”
Zaalbar growled, scratching his head in confusion and Isara barely caught his mumbled words.
Isara felt like accepting the identity of Revan was admitting defeat, and under ordinary circumstances, that was something she would never do. But in this moment, she felt so defeated that it was the only option.
Nodding miserably, she said, “I was Revan.”
“All the news reports said that Revan was killed.” This from Canderous, though Isara could see a glint in his eyes as though he found the truth far more intriguing than he’d ever found the lie that was Isara Deir.
Swallowing the last bit of her denial, [i]Revan shook her head. “I very nearly was. Malak fired on my ship. It was only by Bastila’s aid that I survived. But my mind was broken.” Her voice grew steadier as she spoke, but she couldn’t help feeling like a part of her was dying with every new word. “The Jedi Council needed to know how Malak and I could have amassed such a large army in such a short amount of time, so they created the Isara Deir persona and implanted it in my mind.”
Even Zaalbar stopped eating at that.
“That’s awful,” Mission breathed.
Revan bowed her head, unable to look any of them in the eye for shame of who she had been. “If any of you want to leave… I’ll understand.”
A weighty silence settled over the table and seconds felt like hours. Then Canderous cleared his throat.
“I’ve told a few stories of my involvement in the Mandalorian Wars,” he said. “Enough at least that you know from a Mandalorian’s perspective why we fought.” His eyes bored into Revan and slowly she raised her eyes to meet his. When she had done so, he went on. “Revan gave us the fight we were looking for. There was no disgrace in losing that fight and I hold no grudge against Revan. For that matter, neither would any Mandalorian.”
He grinned. “Had you been born a Mandalorian, we would have defeated the Republic in a heartbeat, Revan.” He gave her a Mandalorian salute. “Whatever you decide to call yourself, it’s an honor to serve beside you and I know that in doing so, I will find myself in combat truly worthy of my skill.”
With this said, he sat down abruptly and returned to his meal. The silence was shorter this time.
Zaalbar said, [not the person you were.]
“Big Z’s right,” Mission piped in. “When I look at you, I don’t see the Dark Lord of the Sith. You’re Isara Deir, and you were the first friend I ever had after Big Z. I’ve watched you risk your own life to save ours too many times to count. Would a Sith do that?”
[I]I am Isara Deir. I am Isara Deir. I am Isara Deir. Isara smiled faintly. “None that I’ve ever heard of.” She turned. “Juhani?”
The Cathar met her with a bold, determined gaze. “It was Revan… you were the one who inspired me to become a Jedi Knight, and you were the one who turned me from my dark path. To see you resisting what you were even now, it gives me confidence. Isara Deir, I will follow you until I can no longer.”
Scowling, Carth got up from the table and stalked away. Isara’s smile faded as she watched him go and she turned to Jolee, her eyes pleading.
“Go after him,” he advised. She rose to do so, but HK-47 stopped her.
“I am experiencing something unusual, Master,” it said. She frowned, her mind still on Carth.
“Can’t it wait?” she pleaded.
“Objection: This will not take long, Master.”
Sighing, defeated, Isara said, “What is it?”
“Observation: You and the other meatbags were speaking of Revan. I noted your observations were directed toward yourself, Master. Query: Are you Revan?”
Isara wanted to break his neck and crush his head. “Do you want to hear it spelled out plainly?” she spat. “Here you go then. I. Am. Revan.”
“Observation: My assassination protocols have been restored, Master. It seems that I was equipped with a homing system which restores deleted protocols and memories upon my return to my original master.”
Isara frowned. “Revan was your original master.”
“Affirmation: Correct, Master. It seems my core was designed to be restored upon positive confirmation of the identity of Revan, which you have now given.”
She glared at him pointedly. “That could have waited.”
He stepped aside. “Reluctant resignation: Of course, Master.”
She pushed past him and ran up the corridor to the bridge. There, she found Carth in the pilot’s seat, staring out at the hyperspace tunnel with his hands on the controls, though there was nothing for him to do. She sat in the co-pilot’s seat and waited. When he still didn’t speak, she closed her eyes in dismay. His refusal to look at her or even to speak to her was unbearable, but she didn’t want to force him into anything. Determined to let him speak first, she delved into the Force, seeking to calm her nerves. But the peace eluded her. She felt as though the foulness of the woman she had been was crawling all over her. Perhaps Carth was right to hate her.
And then, he spoke, almost too softly for her to hear.
“I can’t hate you.”
For the first time since they returned to the Ebon Hawk without Bastila, he looked at her without judgment. There was sorrow there, but whatever had made him despise her before didn’t seem to be a problem anymore. Feeling a little guilty, she wondered if it had been her own projected guilt she had seen lurking in his eyes.
“I tried. I tried to tell myself it was all your fault. My wife, my son, my home. I-I just…” He paused, as if still trying to figure out what he wanted to say. He spun his chair and caught her hands earnestly. “Do you remember it? Do you recall being Revan and doing all those terrible things? Do you remember leading Malak down the path that led to the destruction of Telos?”
Slowly, Isara shook her head. “It’s hard, Carth. I think I… sometimes I think I remember something, but it’s gone before I can identify what it was.”
He relaxed a little. “Mission’s right, though. You risked your life countless times to be sure the rest of us were safe, and you really drew us together. Hell, you cracked me open when I didn’t realize that was a good thing. You gave me hope, which is something I’d been missing.” He leaned forward suddenly intense again.
“Isara, you gave me love when I thought I would never love again. But I do. I love you more than I would have thought possible. So right here, right now, I’m going to tell you what I couldn’t at the table back there. I’m with you, Isara. Until the day I die, I will stand by you. You have my word.”
Overwhelmed, Isara nearly fell out of her chair, but Carth caught her. Every shred of the mask she had thrown between them was gone and all she could see in his eyes was love. Overjoyed, she kissed him deeply.
Her eyes dancing with joy she said, “Now I know I can move on.”
Then, she turned to the galaxy map and said, “There’s just one planet left we haven’t visited, and that’s Korriban.”
Carth chuckled. “Whoa there. Take your time.” He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know how you do it. You get the biggest shock of your life and then you just bounce back like this?”
Isara shook her head. “We know Malak’s going to try to turn Bastila to the Dark Side. If we don’t act quickly-”
“If we act too quickly, we’ll be destroyed,” Carth cut in. “Come on now. Think it through. Where’s Revan the strategist, of whom the mighty Canderous Ordo said, ‘Her strategies were unbeatable!’ who drove the Mandalorians into the ground not by might, but by plan?”
Isara chewed on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “You’re right. We can’t just walk into the Sith Academy and demand the Star Map. Although…” A mischievous grin lit up her face.
Carth laughed. “Darth Revan returns? Oh, no. Don’t pull that on me. I’m too vulnerable.”
Isara’s grin faded. “So am I, Carth. So am I.”
But she couldn’t deny the logic of his advice. At least one element of Revan had to be brought back. And for the rest of the trip to Yavin, Isara did just that.
At last, though her world had been overturned, it began to make sense again