The isolated wing of the Naboo palace complex, proudly named the Royal Medical Center, possessed everything necessary for providing urgent, and most importantly, qualified medical care to patients with any wounds or illnesses. The best equipment in the sector, the latest models of medical droids, comfortable wards, and a spacious park with fountains in the rehabilitation zone – all this was meant to help patients heal and recover as quickly as possible.
However, at this moment, the situation in ward number 6 was far from peaceful.
Qui-Gon Jinn lay on a hospital bed, recovering after surgery, and on either side of him were two young men who could still be called teenagers. And if one of them stood in a deliberately relaxed pose, with a slight smile examining his interlocutor, then the second tensely gripped the hilt of the lightsaber hanging on his belt, ready to start a fight at any second.
Obi-Wan had agreed to wait with questions until his master had received medical attention. However, now, several hours after the battle with the Sith in the plasma mines, the young Padawan was determined to get answers.
Revan found the situation frankly amusing. Yes, at that moment, when taking Maul's oath, he had completely forgotten how the Jedi present might react. However, he could not have acted otherwise. The alternative would have been the death of a talented Force-sensitive, who simply needed to be shown the way before he was completely lost in darkness. Besides... it was the will of the Force. Fate, providence, a happy coincidence, destiny, or whatever the peoples of the galaxy called it, the former Jedi clearly understood WHAT it actually was. There are no coincidences – only the Force.
The situation had turned out unpleasant. However, it could still be rectified. It was impossible to enter into conflict with the Order. Not yet, at least. The Jedi, although they had lost their form and combat skills, were still quite numerous, their influence extended to more than half the galaxy, and their ties with the Senate could cause a lot of headaches.
There was only one way out – to talk to the Council or the Grand Master, explain the situation, possibly reveal his identity, and get them to give him Anakin.
"Well, this won't be easy," Revan thought with a mental smirk.
However, what amused him was not the prospect of meeting with the Order's leadership, but the "threatening look" of the Padawan opposite, ready to bring the Light, "impose good," and "inflict justice" on anyone who even thought of the Dark Side. Despite the fact that he was facing a Master-level warrior with years of combat experience, whom he had personally seen in action, and with whom he would not be able to compete for a long time. Not to mention that the most effective assassin droid in the galaxy was quietly whirring its servos in the corner of the ward, ready to protect its master and incinerate the annoying "bag of meat" at any moment.
But the conversation still had to start somehow.
"Obi-Wan, if it helps you calm down, you can put your lightsaber to my throat. Just stop trembling like you've met a Krayt dragon," Revan said, sighing deeply.
The Padawan's hand twitched, but the blade remained on his belt. Either the young man realized the difference in strength, or he simply thought that threatening an unarmed person would be unworthy of a Light Adept.
Revan demonstratively left his lightsabers at the entrance to the ward under HK's guard, thereby creating an illusion of safety. Obi-Wan didn't need to know that the ancient didn't need swords to deal with a Padawan, and that he wouldn't even have to move to do so. Nor did he need to know about Master Kreia's favorite technique, the Hovering Blade. Although he couldn't control three at once as precisely and skillfully as his teacher, he would have managed to summon one blade and put it in front of him even before Kenobi took a step.
The ancient mentally slapped himself on the back of the head. These impulses to show off were starting to annoy him. There had been almost no time for meditation lately, which had reawakened the hormones of his new body.
"I want to know who you really are?" Kenobi asked, with the sternest expression he could muster.
Revan gave a mysterious smile and scratched his chin, barely suppressing laughter. Even the half-asleep Jinn snorted briefly and coughed.
The former Sith cast a quick glance at the medical equipment displays and made sure the injured Jedi was in no danger.
"I'm waiting," Obi-Wan reminded him, trying to hide his anxiety for his master.
Revan shook his head.
"Boy, it would take me three days to answer your question," he said calmly, mentally adding, "Not to mention that I myself am not entirely sure who I am now."
The Padawan stood frowning and repeated the question.
"Who are you?"
"Do you want a retelling of my colorful life? From birth, or how?" the Ancient asked, crossing his arms, and noticing his interlocutor's confusion, added, "Formulate your thought more precisely. Highlight the main point."
Kenobi was unpleasant to him. Something about his behavior and way of thinking irritated the former commander. Probably, the notorious narrow-mindedness, the holy and unwavering faith in the Order's ideals and the words of his mentors, despite the fact that he himself was a quite intelligent and talented Force-sensitive. But he was not used to using his head. Or rather, his own head.
The mere fact that he had sharply changed his attitude towards an ally whom he had admired barely an hour earlier spoke volumes. As soon as Avner acted in a way that a Jedi should not, Kenobi immediately rushed to classify him as an enemy.
How it was... Jedi-like. To rush to conclusions and brand someone a traitor, accuse them of falling, and declare them an enemy, without delving into the essence of what happened and ignoring the facts.
A brief encounter with one of his mentors soon after he left for the Mandalorian Wars flashed in Revan's memory.
"You have fallen into Darkness," Master Vrook told him then, considering any deviation from the Code a grave crime.
And at that moment, Revan had done nothing that could serve as grounds for such accusations. Except, perhaps, disobeying the Council and leaving the Order. It didn't matter to the Jedi that he had saved thousands of soldiers' lives and billions of civilians. What mattered more was the violation of the Order's rules.
Kenobi, after so many years... acts the same way. He doesn't care that Revan saved the lives of the guardsmen, the Queen, and even his master. After all, Avner Van saved the life of a Sith. And even took him as a student.
"The Order hasn't changed. At least not in this," the former Jedi thought.
Meanwhile, Kenobi, apparently, managed to grasp the meaning of his interlocutor's words and rephrased the question.
"Are you a Sith?" he asked defiantly.
Revan sat on the edge of the neighboring cot, maintaining a relaxed demeanor in contrast to Obi-Wan.
"An interesting question," he mused thoughtfully. "And a correct one."
"Don't evade!" the Padawan demanded.
Qui-Gon Jinn, trying with all his might not to fall asleep, looked reproachfully at his student.
Catching his master's gaze, Kenobi tempered his ardor.
"Is it so difficult to answer a simple question?" he asked in a calmer tone.
"You may not believe me, but yes, it is difficult," Revan looked directly into the young Jedi's eyes. "It all depends on what meaning you attach to the word 'Sith'."
"Evil, tyrants of antiquity, mad killers striving for absolute power, adepts of the Dark Side," Obi-Wan replied irritably.
Revan raised an eyebrow slightly in surprise and smiled almost imperceptibly.
"An amusing formulation," he said, suppressing a chuckle. "I can confidently say that I cannot classify myself as a Sith."
"Certainly not in such a distorted version," the ancient added mentally.
Kenobi narrowed his eyes in disbelief.
"So, you are a Jedi?"
Revan grinned even wider.
"It depends on the meaning..." he began, but was interrupted.
"Avner!" Qui-Gon's voice was quiet but firm.
The former Jedi looked into the eyes of the wounded Light Adept. They clearly read: "Leave my Padawan alone. Don't mock the boy. Pity his mind."
"Fine," the former Sith said, exhaling loudly. "I'll answer."
Kenobi tensed. However, Jinn did too, even though he was confident that the representative of the Old Republic era Order was definitely not an enemy.
"With the same certainty with which I cannot classify myself as a Sith, I can say that I am not fully a Jedi either."
"But whose side are you on?" the Padawan insisted.
Revan shrugged.
"On my own, I suppose."
"There is only Light and Darkness," Kenobi stated stubbornly.
Even Qui-Gon was about to object to the young and inexperienced student, but the ancient warrior beat him to it.
"With us or against us?" he smiled. "This is almost a verbatim quote from one of the fundamental principles of Sith teachings. Absolute, no neutrality, inaction leads to death."
Obi-Wan recoiled as if struck and his eyes widened.
"You called me a Sith?!"
Revan sighed.
"Learn to listen, Padawan," Revan shook his head.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, "Calm down. Avner just told you how different his position is from that of the Sith. Although not directly."
Kenobi shifted his gaze to his master. Jinn took a breath and cleared his throat. It was still difficult for him to speak.
"Unlike the eternal enemies of the Order, this Force-sensitive does not divide everyone into friends and foes. He is willing to seek compromises, establish contacts, and offer help, not based on affiliation with any particular faction."
"Not the best characteristic either. All that's missing is – he seeks advantage in every manifestation and is willing to compromise his principles," Revan thought.
Then he suddenly realized that he had encountered this speech somewhere before. Among archival records. A short article about Revan, written by one of his contemporaries. It differed in that it described the ancient Jedi not as a traitor and war criminal, but as a talented leader. It was a miracle that this article survived the censorship and edits of Eitris, who had made every effort to smear the names of those who went to war.
Apparently, Qui-Gon had also read this article.
Revan nodded gratefully to the old master.
"Master, he is a threat," Obi-Wan insisted.
"You are still very young, my Padawan," Jinn rebuked him. "And you still have much to learn about the world we live in."
It was evident that the student was choosing his words carefully to defend his opinion, but still, he did not dare to go against his master's authority.
"Yes, Master," he obediently bowed his head, feigning a polite bow.
"Let's end our argument here," the old Jedi continued. "Avner is not our enemy, but an ally. He saved many lives today. That alone gives us reason to trust him. But if that's not enough, then know this, young Padawan, that I trust him."
Kenobi peered into Revan's face for a few seconds. He remained impassive with a slight smile on his face.
"Yes, Master. I understand and will heed your opinion," Obi-Wan forced out.
"Excellent," Qui-Gon smiled benevolently and turned his gaze to Revan. "I know why you came. But please, wait for the Council's decision. I cannot give him to you without their approval."
The former Sith did not need anyone's approval. And he certainly wasn't going to beg anyone. However, it would be interesting to see the Council's reaction. Given Kenobi's behavior, their answer to the proposal to train the most promising, and perhaps even unique, Force-sensitive, was quite predictable.
However, he replied more than diplomatically.
"I give you my word that I will not take the boy before meeting with the Council," he said and mentally added, "However, after this meeting, he will go with me, regardless of the outcome of the negotiations."
Jinn seemed to read his thoughts and nodded briefly. After all, he himself understood that there was no better teacher for Anakin.
"Rest, Qui-Gon. The Queen has promised to provide medical transport to take you to Coruscant," Revan added. "And if the Halls of Healing haven't lost their skills yet, they'll have you back on your feet in a day at most."
Qui-Gon nodded gratefully and leaned back on the pillow.
The former Sith turned and left the ward without a word, under Kenobi's displeased gaze.
Revan planned to spend the rest of the day meditating on his ship. He didn't trust the Queen enough to accept the offer to stay at the palace. And years of wandering, wars, and searching for truth had accustomed him to life on ships. It was calmer in a cramped steel compartment.
Little by little, the former Jedi began to feel tired. Not even a full day had passed since he had to stretch himself well in combat. Although it hadn't been too difficult, it still required a certain skill. After all, he had to constantly look after his weak allies. And he had to hold back in the battle with Maul. The Dark Side clearly didn't like that. Revan still felt the echoes of rage that were ready to erupt and incinerate the Zabrak.
The temptations of darkness. They are hard to resist, especially when teenage hormones are raging in one's blood. The young body was not yet accustomed to such loads, and the need to constantly mask a large part of his strength, let alone the dark half of his own essence, was very exhausting.
"I should devote more time to training and meditation," Revan nodded to his thoughts.
The Force nourished the ancient Jedi, filling his body with power and allowing him to maintain a cheerful and unperturbed appearance.
On the way to the Eagle, Revan met several guardsmen whom he remembered from the morning battle. The soldiers nodded in greeting and expressed words of gratitude. Everyone understood who they owed the success of the operation and such low losses to.
His head began to ache from the endless conversations and greetings in the spirit of:
"Knight!" - "Guardsman!"
"Knight!" - "Guardsman!"
"Knight!" - "Guardsman!"
As it turned out, the main garrison had returned to the palace, plus a couple of Gungan squads with messengers who had delivered a message from Boss Nass. So, there were more people.
Having gotten rid of another grateful soldier, Revan hurried to the hangar, where HK was supposed to bring their ship. Anakin was also supposed to visit his friend from Tatooine.
Even from the entrance, the former Sith heard a voice he really didn't want to hear.
"And mine is like this, BOOM! And the droid - A-a-a! Thump and it shut down!" hopped the long-eared abomination, known as Jar Jar.
In front of him, HK-47 sat on the cargo platform with his optics blinking menacingly, stroking his carbine with one hand and placing spare power cells on a box in front of him with the other.
Revan approached and listened to the droid's muttering, trying to stay out of the talkative Gungan's sight.
"Imitating a choice: Kill. Spare," he said, pulling out a new power cell with each word. "Tear out the heart. Send to the abyss. Tear off the ears... Hmm... The cells are finished."
It sounded like a children's counting rhyme. Revan finally gave in to his curiosity, despite the "danger" of falling into the Gungan's clutches, and approached the droid.
"What are you doing, HK?"
The Gungan noticed the new listener and immediately began to retell the story of his combat exploits. Which stimulated his growing headache.
The droid raised its head and stared at its master. If its facial plate could change expression, it would now display sorrow and a plea for help. Still, Jar-Jar could get on anyone's nerves. Especially a sociopathic droid.
"A weary explanation: One meatbag from the local guard showed me an alternative algorithm for random selection used by the local population, Master. It's based on recounting a random number of identical elements, such as plant petals, energy cells in a combat loadout, loops on clothing, and so on, assigning each individual unit a selection value."
"And how is it?" Revan asked, diligently ignoring the squeaky wails of the Gungan describing the attack of AAT tanks.
"Irritated: Extremely inefficient. I already know the number of energy cells in my combat loadout, as I packed it myself, Master. And one glance at a plant is enough for me to count its petals," the HK unit reported its verdict, casting a brief glance at the big-eared misunderstanding. "With disdain: As I suspected, meatbags will never come up with an alternative to a randomizer."
"Don't forget that alternatives are designed for organics. And we can't instantly count petals," Revan objected, wincing at the sounds Jar-Jar was using to attract their attention.
"Mockingly: Stupid meatbags," the droid made a sound like a short chuckle.
Revan raised an eyebrow, staring expectantly at HK.
"Clarification: Everyone except you, Master!" the droid corrected itself.
Meanwhile, the Gungan's shrieking grew louder overhead.
"Jedi! Ah, Jedi?!" he almost shouted.
"Request: Master, may I activate the assassination protocol?" HK asked, continuously monitoring the "victim."
"Denied," Revan replied reluctantly.
Although the offer was tempting.
"Jedi, listen to me!" the Gungan waved his arms.
Revan cast a brief glance behind the big-eared native and, with an effort of will, moved one of the ammunition crates from the upper tier of the cargo platform.
The heavy cube crashed to the floor, crushing one of the poor Binks' paws in the process. He began hopping on his remaining limb, howling loudly.
"Oh, Force! Jar-Jar, you urgently need to see a doctor!" the former Jedi advised with feigned concern.
"Conclusion: A fracture is present. Recommendation: hurry while the leg can still be saved," HK added.
The Gungan was shocked.
"Help! Escort me!" Binks wailed.
"Of course," Revan said, lifting the Gungan into the air with the Force. "Third turn to the right. Don't miss it!"
And Jar-Jar, screaming like a swoop bike at maximum throttle, left the hangar, ignoring gravity.
The Naboo technician who observed this scene cursed irritably and spat in the direction of the Gungan flying past. Then he turned to Revan and bowed, clearly thanking him from the bottom of his heart.
"What was that about?" Revan asked his droid, slightly confused by such a reaction.
"Answer: The brainless, big-eared creature, barely reaching the lower limit of meatbags in intelligence, known as Jar-Jar, has already managed to break 4 complex electronic components of the engine on three N-1 starfighters, 3 diagnostic modules, 1 astromech droid, and probably the psyche of that very technician, Master. In addition, the Gungan, 'in an attempt to help,' disrupted the storage organization in the nearest warehouse, broke a loader platform, and damaged 5 containers of combat rations for the guards."
Revan whistled, mentally calculating the scale of the destruction.
"Recommendation: I propose to classify this Gungan as a natural disaster and treat him accordingly, Master. Or eliminate him to reduce the damage to the planet's economy... possibly the galaxy's."
"Avoid, isolate, or eliminate?" the former Jedi clarified. "And if used?"
"Request: Clarification required. What do you mean, Master?"
"Imagine what would happen if he ended up on an enemy planet? On a friendly visit? Or, Force forbid, in the Senate!" Revan shivered, chasing away the goosebumps that ran down his spine.
"Analysis: The planet's demise in the first scenario and the collapse of the Republic in the second," the droid mused thoughtfully, with strange notes of respect in its voice.
"He would be more effective than a whole company of saboteurs," Revan said almost jokingly.
The droid nodded.
"Request: Do you order the threat to be eliminated?" it suddenly perked up, drawing its blaster.
"No, HK. That's too radical."
"Clarification: Then, at least, allow me to inflict 'some damage to his audio sensors' upon meeting him, Master?"
"Tear off his ears?" the ancient Sith clarified.
"Affirmative, Master."
"Only if there are no witnesses," Revan replied in a whisper.
"Joyful exclamation: As you command, Master!"
The droid's creator shook his head with a smile. Sometimes HK behaved like a child. Even if his games were too bloody.
Then his gaze caught on a poorly secured panel near the right engine. Apparently, it had been blown out from the inside by an ignition flash.
The prototype acquired by the assassin droid, while possessing excellent characteristics and flying wonderfully, was not distinguished by reliability. Minor breakdowns and glitches occurred with enviable frequency.
In this regard, the "Eagle" resembled the "Hawk."
The heavily modified freighter wouldn't have even left Taris if not for the combined efforts of T3-M4, Canderous, Revan, and Carth. His young successor didn't have such a crew yet. Something needed to be done about it.
"HK, go to the quartermaster. Try to bargain for an astromech from them. We desperately need one, otherwise our miracle won't fly for long," Revan ran his hand over the hull of his ship.
"As you command, Master!" the droid responded cheerfully.
"Just no self-mutilation!" the former Jedi requested.
"As you command, Master," HK repeated in a much sadder tone and headed for the hangar exit.
Finding himself alone, Revan boarded the Dawn Eagle, intending to meditate and calm his rebellious body. A sense of unease did not leave him. Something was wrong, but nothing could be done about it now. It was as if something powerful had set in motion, or a long-prepared plan had begun to be executed. Whatever it was, it would affect the entire galaxy.
Thoughts chased each other in his head. Revan disliked it when the Force sent its warnings in such a form.
And then Queen Amidala decided to hold a celebration for the liberation of the planet, at which he and the other Jedi would receive awards from the Naboo government, and Boss Nass would receive a traditional symbol of peace and prosperity as a gift. With this, the young queen wanted to mark the Gungans' contribution to the victory over the Trade Federation, as well as the conclusion of a new alliance between the two nations of the planet.
Revan disliked official events, balls, receptions, and other amusements of monarchs and the powerful. Although the Masters of the Order noted his talents in diplomacy, as well as his sharp mind, his ability to notice even the most insignificant details and persuade even the most stubborn interlocutor, the former Sith preferred to use faster and more effective methods. He disliked hypocrisy, although he had resorted to it more and more often lately.
Appreciating the irony, Revan chuckled. He disliked "wearing a mask" in his soul, playing other people's roles, while almost never taking off the real mask on his face.
Comfortably settled on the floor in an empty cargo hold, the former Jedi plunged into meditation, looking within himself, calming his thoughts, body, and spirit, letting the Force flow through him, and trying to catch the shadows of the future.
He didn't notice how much time had passed when his concentration was disturbed by a familiar presence. There was no threat, so Revan decided not to interrupt his meditation.
"Wow, cool!" the child who entered the compartment exclaimed enthusiastically, finding the ancient Force-sensitive hovering a meter above the floor.
"Hello, Anakin," Revan greeted without opening his eyes.
"Did I not disturb you?" the young man came to his senses.
"No," the man replied briefly.
"And what are you... doing?" Skywalker asked uncertainly.
Revan opened one eye slightly.
"Why did you suddenly start addressing me as 'you'?"
"Sorry," Anakin blushed. "It's just that before, I didn't know how strong a Jedi you were."
"And I didn't suspect you were such a good pilot," Revan grinned. "It's no joke, destroying a space station at such a young age."
"I was lucky," the boy replied modestly.
Only his emotions gave him away completely. The ancient Sith felt everything: his joy, pride, vanity. The child had performed a feat and knew it. He wanted to be praised, honored, exalted, but the norms of slave behavior ingrained in his subconscious held him back. This created conflict. A raging hurricane of emotions and contradictions attracted the Force, but also hindered its control. Without proper guidance, the boy risked falling to the Dark Side. Not becoming a Sith, but falling, becoming a hostage to instincts and the simplest base impulses.
Revan exhaled loudly, realizing how much effort he would have to expend if he took this child as a student after all.
"Is something wrong?" Anakin noticed the change in his interlocutor's mood.
"No, everything is fine," Revan replied in a calm voice. "You wanted to know what I'm doing?"
"Yes," the young man brightened.
"It's called ascending or hovering meditation," the former Jedi informed him. "A very difficult technique to master, requiring long practice."
"Can I do that too?" Skywalker asked with hope and anticipation.
"With due diligence and patience..."
"I'm diligent!" the boy blurted out immediately.
"And patience," Revan reminded with a smile.
"I... understand," the boy blushed.
Suddenly, Revan, still in a semi-trance, saw a series of rapidly passing images in his consciousness. In them, a slightly older Anakin held a lightsaber hilt, preparing to activate it for the first time. His face glowed with happiness.
Then the scene changed. Maul, with a red lightsaber, clashed in a duel with a fair-haired teenager, skillfully wielding a blue blade and a violet-bladed shoto.
"Use the Force," Revan heard his own voice, addressed to one of the duelists.
The vision changed again. For some reason, Amidala appeared in it. She and Anakin stood back to back on the battlefield, their hands barely touching. The determination in the young woman's eyes reminded him of Bastila before her charge at Malak. Who would have thought that the young and naive queen would grow up... like this.
Suddenly, someone in a black robe with a deep hood and two blood-red blades in his hands appeared in his consciousness. He exuded the Force and Darkness. His presence was oppressive, as if Vitiate had been resurrected in all his terrifying majesty.
Then the images rushed by with lightning speed. Revan struggled to grasp only a few of them with his consciousness.
Here Anakin knelt over his mother's body. But in another vision, she was alive. Here three great fleets clashed in battle over Coruscant, and here there were only two. Here Maul and a grown-up Anakin knelt over a tactical table with a map of the galaxy. But in the next scene, Maul lay defeated at Skywalker's feet, his eyes glowing gold with bloody reflections. Clear sky over Dantooine. And the same sky, but hidden behind a veil of black smoke from burning cities.
Choice.
Options.
The Force showed what could be, but gave no hint of what would lead to it. How to achieve one and avoid the other?
Revan tried to break free from the whirlpool of images he had been drawn into.
The blue-eyed, fair-haired young man, who had knelt before Revan as his teacher, was replaced by a broad-shouldered giant clad in black armor and a helmet with a respirator mask.
"You have poisoned this world with your presence long enough, Revan," a voice distorted by a modulator sounded as the giant raised his scarlet blade for a strike. "Farewell, my first teacher."
"Vaneer?!" Anakin's worried voice pulled the ancient Jedi back to reality.
From the abrupt change in surroundings, Revan momentarily lost his orientation in space and fell to the floor. However, he immediately got to his feet and almost slammed Skywalker into the compartment wall with a Force push, but realized in time who was in front of him.
"Vaneer?" the boy called out fearfully.
The Jedi stood, breathing heavily, with his fist extended.
It took him several long seconds to calm down and separate reality from what he had seen.
"Should I leave?" Skywalker backed away towards the exit.
Revan shook his head, dispelling the last remnants of the vision.
"No, everything is fine, Anakin," he replied with a guilty expression. "I just... dozed off."
"Dozed off?" the young man wondered. "While floating in the air?"
Revan smiled and shrugged, as if to say, it happens.
"Did you have a nightmare?" the boy asked more confidently.
The Jedi nodded.
"Even several," he added.
"I have nightmares too," Skywalker hung his head. "Sometimes, they come true."
Revan frowned. Whatever Anakin saw in his dreams, it caused him pain. The Force, especially at such a young age and without proper training, could seem like a curse. This meant that training should be hurried. Before the boy went mad from the visions.
Only the training itself promised many dangers... And could lead to either peace and prosperity for this galaxy, or chaos and destruction.
"Nothing is clear yet. Nothing is predetermined. Even the Force will not give a precise answer to what awaits in the future," Revan reminded himself mentally.
He made up his mind.
He would train this child. And he would see that bright future. Definitely.
"Sit down," the ancient man gestured to a crate he had just levitated from the corner of the compartment. "Let's talk about your dreams. You see..."
They talked until late at night, until guards sent by the queen to find the boy came for him. Skywalker listened, mesmerized, to Revan's stories about the nature of the Force, about how it permeates everything around, both space and time. About visions, the abilities of the gifted, about the Light Side, about the Dark Side, and about the unified nature of the Force.
The boy wanted to know everything at once. It reminded Revan of himself at the beginning of his training. He didn't leave the library for days and pestered the masters with questions, striving to understand the Force, to understand the teachings of the Jedi. And the more he learned, the more questions he had.
Having persuaded Anakin with difficulty to go to sleep and having solemnly promised to tell him more in the morning, Revan himself went to his cabin.
On the way, he stumbled upon HK, who was animatedly arguing with an R2 series astromech droid, busy resoldering the control relay of the left engine's fuel supply system.
"HK?" Revan indicated the bucket-like droid with a nod. "Who is this?"
"Answer: Master, this is R2-D2, an astromech droid temporarily assigned to our ship by order of Queen Amidala. He distinguished himself during... the queen's hasty departure from Naboo and is a very talented mechanic. Well, so they say," the assassin droid finished grumpily. "Correction: Oh, Master, this is also the astromech droid that was with the restless meatbag in the starfighter."
R2 beeped something displeased in binary.
Revan, who perfectly understood this language, translated for himself: "Don't talk like that about the young master pilot!"
"Angry comment: I will speak of the stupid meatbag as I wish!"
"Ahem," the former Jedi reminded them of his presence.
"Correction: Unless Master commands otherwise, of course," HK added in a syrupy voice.
The astromech turned its video sensor to Revan and, a moment later, chirped a complex trill, unpleasant to the ears of those not accustomed to communicating directly with astromechs.
"Nice to meet you, R2-D2. I'm Avner Van, but I'm also often called Vaneer. If you stay with us longer, I'll tell you why."
The droid whistled.
"Yes, it's a secret."
The astromech was impressed by the new captain, which is how he perceived Revan, and intrigued. Apparently, this astromech already had a fully formed personality matrix. And this personality was distinguished by restlessness.
"Just like T3-M4," Revan thought with a smile.
Buoyed by the upcoming adventures, R2 let out a joyful trill and began to sway from side to side on its supports.
"Quiet, buddy, or you'll short-circuit the chains," the former Jedi grinned. "I hope we'll get along."
HK at that moment grumbled almost inaudibly something like: "Indignantly: Another mechanic with a hot motivator in the aft chassis."
Grinning at the assassin's comment, who had spent a long time in the company of T3-M4, Revan walked further into his cabin.
In a message from HK via a secure channel to his personal communicator, it was stated that the assassin droid had already checked the astromech for hidden espionage devices, and had also forced the royal palace's technical service to officially change the droid's assignment from the royal yacht to Revan's ship to exclude the possibility of dual subordination. HK would not allow a spy on board.
"Well, the further, the more interesting," the ancient said to his reflection. "Let's see what tomorrow brings."