Revered and Reviled

"My Lord."
Malak half-sat up, not bothering to get out of bed. He stretched and yawned before answering the servant. "What is it? Is our guest awake at last?"
"No, my Lord," said the servant nervously. He tried not to stare at the naked women in bed with the Sith Lord, who were stirring gently, half-woken by the noise. "There has been some… unusual activity in your main credit account, my Lord."
Malak stared at the servant in disbelief. She had actually done it. Malak laughed, the sound hollow and unnatural, but his amusement genuine.
"Shall I send someone to investigate, my Lord?"
"No," Malak laughed. "I will run out of underlings too quickly if I keep wasting them on Revan's pettiness." He chuckled to himself, admiring her daring. "Bring me the receipts. I am curious to know what my dear former Master has been purchasing with my money."
"Yes, my Lord." The servant bowed himself out of the room, and Malak settled himself back into the bed.
The women fell into fitful slumber again, and he watched them sleep. One was a Twi'lek that he had purchased on the slave market in Nar Shadaa; the other, one of the Mandalorian women that Revan had placed on his ship.
Malak ran his hand over the woman's soft curves and watched her thoughtfully for a moment. He rose from the bed and walked over to his desk. He brought up the recording of yesterday's events again, rewinding it to the beginning. Revan, brash and fearless, a slight smile on her face as they were escorted to the interrogation room. "Already planning your escape," he murmured. "Brilliant, as always." He paused the recording, and idly ran a finger over the outline of her face. "I had forgotten," he whispered to himself. He traced the curve of her lips, looked at her absurdly colored hair. "I forgot how beautiful you are, Revan."
He let the recording play on. Her defiant response to Karath's posturing and threats. He tried to skip over the parts where she screamed. For some reason, he found he couldn't watch. But there was one part he wanted to hear again. She was kneeling, fighting against the pain, whispering something to herself. "They're hurting him," she sobbed to herself. "They're hurting him, and I can't make them stop!"
Hurting whom?
The words had a sick fascination for him. He watched it again, still no closer to understanding. He didn’t understand Karath's comment about her weakness, either. He'd never heard the Admiral mention such a thing before, and it was, of course, too late to ask him now. Malak sighed.
He forwarded the recording to the final moments, when Bastila gazed so adoringly on Revan. He noted that the Republic soldier did as well, but not as blatantly. Revan blushed at their compliments, and Malak smiled in amusement. Revan, hero of a thousand battles, blushing like a schoolgirl, shy and awkward. If it was all an act, it was magnificently done.
He watched the Cathar ran in, and turn off the cages. He watched Revan leap down, graceful and light, and run up to give her a hug. He paused it again, drinking in the sight of Revan's body in perfect silhouette. She was very beautiful.
Malak leaned back in his chair and stared at the picture on the screen.
Revan.
He turned off the recording and returned to the bed. He looked at the women lying there, but didn't touch them. Malak lay still for a moment, thinking. Finally he stood, and got dressed.
If he couldn't have Revan, he could at least go talk to Bastila.

"What the – where did you get all the money for this?" Carth demanded as Patience dumped another stack of parts and weapon upgrades in the cargo hold.
"You don't really want to know," she said and walked back to take the next box from Canderous.
Carth's eyes widened as he stared at the pile of shining armor. "Maker's breath! We don't have that kind of money, Patience!"
"Nope," she said cheerfully. "We don't."
Canderous laughed. "But Malak does. Or he did, before we raided his account."
"You what?"
"Oh, calm down," grinned Patience. "He knew I would take it."
"What?"
"He never changed his passcode," she explained. "It's his way of finding out what I'm thinking." Patience moved aside as Zaalbar entered the ship with a huge crate of food.
"You mean, now he knows you're preparing for a great battle and a long journey?"
Patience laughed. "More like 'Nyah nyah! I'm taking your money! I'm not afraid of you!'" Patience made a rude noise with her tongue, finishing the thought in her mind, then realized what she was doing and sighed. "Revan can be very petty when she wants to." She walked over to the cargo hold to check on their supplies, shaking her head in disgust.
"I can't decide if that's scary or sexy," muttered Carth.
"Go for scary," suggested Canderous. "Then she can cry on my shoulder all night."
Carth glared at him.
"What?" Canderous grinned. "Wait, I have a better idea. You take Patience, I'll take Revan."
"What? How would that that even work? Wait, why am I discussing this with you? Get out of here!"
"I'm working," Canderous pointed out.
"I'm armed."
Canderous considered, then decided that discretion was the better part of valor in this case. "I'm only leaving because she'll kill me before I can explain."
Carth, still leaning against the weapons locker where the heavy weapons were stored, pulled out his blaster pistol and checked the sights.
"I'm going!"

"Well, I hope our accommodations are to your liking," said Malak with a generous helping of false sincerity.
"You're a monster," hissed Bastila. She was chained to the wall of a torture room, her hair in alluring disarray, her clothes artfully torn. Nothing had been done to her, besides the staging of a perfect picture.
"So I've been told," Malak sighed. "And yet, I'm not the one who sent assassins to kill the hero who saved the Republic." Malak walked around her, checking the effect of her pose and the scene.
Bastila glared at him. "How dare you!"
"The truth hurts, doesn't it?" Malak laughed.
"Is this part of the torture?" Bastila asked, trying to force herself to be calm.
"I suppose you were expecting me to use the torture cages? I'm sorry to disappoint you. It's obvious that you are too strong to be broken by pain, and I'm not a woman hating sadist like Karath." He looked curiously at her. "I'll have to find another way to break you."
"I will never fall to the Dark Side! If you think torture will turn me, Malak, you are a fool," said Bastila sharply.
"Mere pain would have no effect on someone like you," Malak laughed. "In fact, it would be worse than useless. No, dear Bastila, you misunderstand. What I want is for you to experience the power and the freedom of the Dark Side. I want to whet your appetite for power. I want you to come to me willingly."
"Never!"
Malak laughed again. He was enjoying himself. "You're fascinating. I can see why Revan likes you." Malak leaned on the wall next to her, and held up a datapad. The recording was paused on Bastila's face as she gazed adoringly at Patience in the cell next to her. "When did Revan decide you were worth toying with?"
Bastila turned away and looked at the empty space on the wall beyond.
Malak gazed down at Bastila's body, assessing her curves and her shape. "Usually, Revan likes them a little larger." Bastila flushed, but didn't respond. Malak played with the datapad, brought up another recording. Karath in his office, his face twisted with sick sexual desire, grunting as he stroked himself beneath the desk. "Oops, that's not the one I wanted." Carth's screams of pain rang in the background until he stopped the playback and brought up a different recording.
This one was of a younger, golden-haired version of the woman she knew as Patience, half-naked in the hall of a Republic starship, shrieking wildly and running away from a group of similarly undressed women of various Republic species, led by a tall, graceful, muscular Human woman, with long yellow hair and slightly slanted green eyes. She was holding a squealing lizard and trying to touch Revan with it. They were all laughing like children, and the hall was lined with Republic soldiers and Jedi in various stages of undress, laughing and cheering the women on.
"The Exile," Bastila breathed.
The tables were turned, and the women were now fleeing from Revan, who had apparently enlisted the help of a tall, beautiful Iridonian woman and was chasing her tormentors away with a fire hose. Suddenly the recording changed angles, as the vidcam was dropped and Revan turned the hose on Malak to shouts of wild laughter from the both of them.
Malak chuckled. "You know, for the life of me, I can't remember when I got the camera back. Somewhere in here, I have one of her and the Exile making out with the Doctor before Kavar walked in on them."
"The Doctor?" Bastila asked softly, knowing that she should keep her silence. She knew it was a trap, but she wanted to see more.
"The black-haired Iridonian. The blue-haired one was one of our pilots, her older sister. They're all dead now, of course. Just like everyone else Revan has ever graced with her favors." Malak looked at her, and Bastila turned away again.
"You never answered my question," said Malak conversationally. "Either of them, actually. But you can't be enjoying yourself here. We could retire to a more private, comfortable area, if you like," he suggested calmly.
"You're mad," gasped Bastila. "Do you think you can seduce me? Is that it?"
Malak shrugged, his muscles rippling beneath the red leather of his armor. "Why not? Revan apparently did."
"That isn't true," Bastila insisted hotly. "You disgust me! Don't you dare to lay a hand on me!"
Malak laughed at her outrage. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to force you. If you don't want to, just say so."
"Who in their right mind would want to be touched by a monster like you?" Bastila raged.
"Revan."
"What?"
"Oh, you said 'right mind,' I think that might rule her out," Malak mused. He looked at her again, noted the shock on her face. "What? You don't believe me?"
"Of course not!"
"I'm offended," Malak said dryly. "Tell you what, come up to my room, and you can tell me all about your unrequited love for Revan, and I'll show you recordings of her making out with beautiful women. And then I'll show you the ones from my room, and you can help me play 'Guess which one is Revan in disguise.' It's a fun game, where you win even if you lose," he laughed.
"Oh!" Bastila just glared at him. "What kind of torture is this?"
"Of course, you'd rather believe that dear, sweet Revan is being wronged here, that she isn't an evil, soul-devouring slut who draws people to her so that she can drain them and then toss them aside when they bore her." Malak sighed. He raised a hand to his heart. "How could I, her trusted apprentice, think such horrible things of my poor Master?" Malak held up the datapad again, and replayed one of the scenes where Carth, Bastila, and Patience were all screaming in agony, but kept his hand over the part of the screen showing Patience. "Did you see it?" he asked her.
"See what?" asked Bastila in confusion.
He reset the recording, and played it again, but this time, only showing Patience.
Bastila frowned. "What's wrong with her?"
He looked at Bastila, and watched her eyes grow wide in shock. "Revan is feeding on your pain." He smiled at the horror in her eyes. "That's why I can't torture you. You're still bonded to her, and it will only make her stronger. I did warn Karath about that, but," Malak shrugged, "either he got a little carried away, or, more likely, he was hoping that Revan would kill me." Malak laughed. "Karath and I didn't get along very well."
Bastila turned away, trying not to let Malak see that she was affected by the scene in the recording, trying to ignore the screams of pain coming from the device.
Malak stopped the recording and looked at her. "Well?"
"Well, what?" Bastila continued staring at the wall, the cracks in the floor. Anything except the man leaning over her.
"Did you want to stay here? Or retire to a more comfortable spot? I can have my servants do your hair properly. It's a bit of a mess." He gently touched her tangled braids, and Bastila flinched away. He slowly trailed his hand down the side of her neck, along her side, ignoring her shudders. "Are you a virgin, by any chance?"
Bastila flushed, furious at his rudeness.
"Of course you're not," he sighed. "They never are. Tell me, who was your first? A loving master?" he asked softly.
Bastila whimpered, and tried to move away from his hand on her body, trying not to react to the unexpected gentleness of his touch.
Malak's hand continued gently moving over her, touching her soft breasts, stroking her thighs, caressing her hips. "A trusted friend?"
"Stop," she pleaded, even as she realized that she shouldn't have spoken.
"A dashing hero?" His hand finally touched the soft, wet heat between her legs, and Bastila gasped. "Wounded unto death? Slender hands and generous hips? Long, golden hair. Soft, warm, loving lips, arousing feelings in you that you never dreamed of?"
"Leave me alone!" Bastila screamed, even as her body strained for his contact, desperate for release. "I didn't! Stop it, don't touch me!"
"But you wanted to. Of course you did. Everyone does. Revan is so very picky, and so sweet. One taste," he slid his hand beneath her shirt, "is never enough, is it?"
She was shocked to find that his hands were warm and gentle. She kept expecting him to be brutal and vile, and he simply wasn't.
"Let's go upstairs," suggested Malak. "You'll be much more comfortable there." He undid the chains with one hand, still gently caressing her breasts with the other, listening to her breathing quicken under his touch. After so long in the restraints, her legs wouldn't support her weight, and Bastila sagged helplessly into his arms. "Oops," laughed Malak as he lifted her to his chest. His hand moved down her body again, and Bastila moaned in suppressed pleasure at his skillful touch.
"You brute," Bastila sobbed. "What do you want with me?"
Malak laughed. "I just want you to talk to me. Tell me everything about her," Malak said gently as he carried Bastila out of the torture chamber.

"He won't talk if we bring too many people," said Canderous. "He'll just assume that I've come to kill him."
"Do you want to talk to him?" asked Carth.
Canderous sighed. "I feel like I ought to try and explain."
"Okay," said Carth uncertainly. "But you can't go alone."
"No," Canderous agreed. "That would be very foolhardy."
"So…"
Canderous blushed a little. "I would like to bring Patience with me."
"Just Patience."
Canderous nodded.
Carth groaned inwardly. "Why me?" He looked at the Mandalorian. "If you two run off, I will find you. I'll have that damn droid track her down."
"I'm not going to run off!"
"I'm just warning you," said Carth, as he walked away.
Canderous grinned. "He's a good man." He walked to the garage, to find Patience. "Hey."
"Hi! What did Carth say?" She jumped off the worktable.
"He says it's okay. Well, he said more than that, but it's not important."
Patience smiled. "This won't take long. Hopefully, you can talk Jagi out of being so crazy."
Canderous shouldered his weapons, and they walked out of the ship together. "Doubt it. He's one of those guys who take losses hard. I might be able to make him understand why, but he'll never forgive me. Might as well get it over with."
Patience hired a Jawa to drive them part of the way, and they walked through the Dune Sea in companionable silence.
"There," Canderous pointed to the group of men gathered on a ridge. "There they are."
Patience nodded, and they trudged over to meet Jagi.
"So, you finally managed to find your way here," Jagi sneered. "And you even found a friend to stand with you."
"I see you brought some friends of your own, as well," said Canderous calmly.
"We are the last survivors of your treachery, Canderous Ordo. How much did you pay her, Canderous?"
"I came of my own free will," said Patience firmly.
"Spare me your excuses, Jedi. I know why he brought you," Jagi sneered, and Canderous flushed bright red.
"Enough of this talk, Jagi!" he roared. "Let's do what we came here to do."
"Is there no bridge between you?" asked Patience, switching to Mandalorian, using the ancient formula of truce between clans. "Are there so many of your clan left that you would spill your brother's blood over this?"
"We both know what is at stake here, and we both know what we must do," said Jagi, following her lead and speaking in Mandalorian. "It is only in death that this can end. Only his death can wipe out the crime that he committed."
"This is a matter of honor," snarled Canderous. "My honor. I cannot abide by this insult, not if I ever hope to stand among my people ever again. I must do this."
"Speak the words," said Patience, still using the ancient words of truce. "Why must you fight him, Canderous?"
"He has slandered my honor among the Mandalorians, and challenged my decisions as his Commander."
"I speak the truth," insisted Jagi. "The deaths of my comrades – your warriors – this is a debt that can only be erased with your blood. You saw the prospect of glory, and you abandoned us! You changed the battle plan, and left us to die, surrounded by enemies!"
"If I had not attacked when I did, the battle would not have been won so easily," Canderous protested.
"But it still would have been won!" Jagi shouted. "You sent our men to die! You will pay!"
"That's not the way it happened," Canderous broke in.
"Speak," said Patience calmly. "Commander, men died at your orders. Why?"
"The Althiri were brave, they fought well, but in the midst of battle, I saw a break in their line. Their center was exposed. I saw a weakness, and I went for it. If I had let that chance go, how many more warriors would have died in the assault? How much longer would the battle have taken, Jagi? I was right, and you know it."
"It was the Ordos that you sent in! Not your men, just the Ordos! You left the rest of us to fall into the hands of the Althiri and their allies, while you won the battle and covered your clan in glory!" Jagi shouted. "There was a plan, given to us by the Captains. Instead of following it, you went off on your own! You were entrusted with the safety of three clans, but only one made it off the field of battle!"
"I regret their loss," said Canderous sadly, "but what I did was necessary. Even the Captains agreed that I had chosen wisely."
"It was a wise tactical move," said Patience. "It is not the Mandalorian way to see an enemy's weak point and pass it by."
"What do you know of Mando'ade, jetii?" snarled Jagi. "No more than your bounty hunter dog knows! He is a glory hound, and a coward!"
Patience stepped back so that she was no longer between Canderous and Jagi. "It seems the time for speech has passed," she said mildly.
"There is no bridge between us," said Canderous. "You have insulted my honor for the last time, Jagi."
"There is no bridge between us, murderer!" Jagi drew his weapons. "Let us settle this for once and for all! Step aside, jetii!"
"My brother's fight is mine," she said firmly. "I stand where he stands, I fight what he fights." She drew her lightsabers.
"Then die where he dies, jetii witch!" Jagi charged, and his men started shooting.
Patience used her lightsabers to deflect the first blasts, then charged into their midst, ruining their aim. Her lightsabers flashed, cutting them down before they could switch to more effective weapons. From the corner of her eye, she saw Canderous, blade in hand, dueling with Jagi. She turned her attention back to the men she was fighting, and finished them off as quickly as she could. There was a hoarse cry from behind her, and she smiled. Canderous would never make a noise like that. She finished with the last of Jagi's companions, and turned to face him.
Canderous watched the body fall to the desert sand. "I didn't think it would end this way," he confessed. "I never dreamed that someday, I would be killing my own people like this."
Patience walked up to him. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," he said quickly. "I just – I need to think things through. For myself." He looked at her, struck again by just how small and delicate she seemed. "Thank you. Thank you for standing by me the way you did."
Patience smiled sweetly, and put her arm through his, drawing him away from the corpses. "You aren't going to try and kiss me again, are you?" She looked up at him.
Canderous shook his head. "It isn't right."
"True," she smiled to herself. "Ah, there's our ride. I'm so glad they waited." She ran up to the little Jawa, and jumped into the landspeeder. "Come on! Let's get back to the ship." She held out her hand to help him in, and he sat next to her as the Jawas sped away, listening to her happy, idle chatter.

Bastila wasn't sure what she was supposed to be doing. Screaming? Trying to run away? One of the servants wrapped her hair in a thick towel, and two others held out a robe to her so that she could step out of the bath. With a sigh, she let them wrap her up and lead her to a couch opposite Malak. She tried to ignore him as he reclined on his own couch with a beautiful Human woman in his lap, reading datapads handed to him by a nervous looking young man in the uniform of a Sith officer. The servants laid her down on the couch as she looked around the room. "Why are there two couches?" she asked suddenly.
"That," he smiled, "was Revan's spot."
Bastila stared at him in surprise. "Revan took baths here? With you watching?" One of the slaves knelt down in front of her, and held out a palette of colored paints for her toenails. Another began tending to Bastila's hair, making soft noises of commiseration at the state of her hair.
Malak laughed in light amusement. "Revan was mildly obsessed with her looks, even if no one else ever saw her face."
Bastila tried again to think of how to properly resist this insidious seduction.
"What color do you like?" Malak asked the officer, and the man mumbled something nervously, trying not to look at the beautiful Jedi on the couch. "Good choice. Go for the scarlet," Malak suggested.
Part of her wanted to insist that she didn't need to have her toenails painted, that she was happy to have dirty hair with split ends, and that she didn't want them to touch her anymore. When she didn't refuse, the servant selected a brilliant scarlet and moved down to start giving her a pedicure. Bastila sighed.
"Don't worry, they're very good at their jobs. Revan didn't permit imperfections." Malak laughed. "I'm much more forgiving. Or rather, I am more accepting of heartfelt and sincere apologies from beautiful women." Malak smiled down at the woman lying on him. "What do you think of her?" he asked suddenly.
"She is beautiful," said the woman softly, "but not as beautiful as Lord Revan."
Malak laughed as Bastila flushed. "You must forgive Hannah. She is a bit… partial. Well, let us take a look at what your dear, loyal companions are doing in preparation to rescue you. What have we here? New shoes! Probably Revan. Books. Must be Revan. Heavy armor?"
"What are you looking at?" Bastila asked nervously.
Malak chuckled. "Revan raided my credit account and is going shopping on Tatooine. A blaster rifle?"
"Canderous," she sighed.
"Oh, the Mandalorian. Weapon upgrades, parts for a bowcaster. That must be your Wookiee companion. More books. Revan."
Bastila laughed shakily. She knew this was wrong. She knew she shouldn't be lying here, naked except for a towel, beneath the eyes of a Sith Lord who was pretending not to look at her. She shouldn't be allowing servants to condition and style her hair, or paint her toenails. But the alternative was to lie in a filthy dungeon and suffer... and not hear tantalizing little tidbits about Revan. She glanced at the woman he had called Hannah, and quickly looked away when she realized that the woman was looking at her. She glanced up at the officer instead, who was still handing over notes to Malak. He must have felt her gaze, because he looked up and met her eyes. He blushed furiously and dropped a datapad, just missing Malak's arm.
"Oh, forgive me, my Lord," he said quickly, and knelt to pick it up.
Malak glared at him. "Clumsy fool."
"It was my fault," said Bastila quickly.
"What? Flirting with my underlings already? You could at least wait a day," Malak grumbled.
Bastila flushed. "I was not flirting."
"'I was not flirting,'" Malak mimicked her.
"Oh!" Bastila raged. The servants quickly moved away from her. "What?"
"Well, at this point, Revan would have started killing people," Malak laughed. He gently patted the still-kneeling officer on the head. "Get up, fool. You're safe, apparently."
The officer stood, and Bastila couldn't help but notice how young he looked for his position.
"What?" Malak looked at the officer. "Does he have something on his face? Would you like him to?" he said suggestively.
Bastila blushed. "Why is he so young?"
"Haven't you figured out yet that the answer to every question you ask me involves Revan?" Malak looked at the officer again, who was standing perfectly still and silent. "She likes them that way." Malak shrugged. "He doesn't annoy me overmuch." Malak laughed. "What do you think of her, fool? Is she as beautiful as Lord Revan?"
The officer stammered nervously. "Her eyes are nicer than Lord Revan's."
Bastila had always thought that falling to the Dark Side would involve violence and fear. Anger and hatred. Not sybaritic comfort. Not barely hidden desire. The constant temptations were wearing away her resistance, slowly, but surely, and she knew it, but she didn't know how to resist it. She couldn't force herself to turn away from the gentle suggestions that she was the obvious replacement for Revan. She was beginning to realize that she didn't want to.
Malak laughed again. He held up the datapad. "Three thousand credits on droid parts?"
"Revan," they said together.