Hello dear readers, and thank you for investing your time in my humble fix. No, that's fic, bloody auto correct.

Anyway, I hope you find this nice perplexing mystery and don't skip strait to the end.

Except if you really want to.

I deeply appreciate all reviews. And if you think the story is boring, I beg you, leave a review pointing out the problem so I can improve.

Ah yes! Almost forgot: Disclaimer: I own nothing

And now...


Vren Arlad didn't know if he was allowed in the academy sub-level. More importantly, he didn't care. If someone wanted to pick a fight and try to stop him, all the better. He was itching for a good fight. He was a baleful man, enamored with cruelty and destruction. But he was not rash. He knew that he needed to control himself, but he didn't have to like it.

Keeping up this pretext of loyalty to the Jedi ideals, this farce, was driving him mad. He didn't know how much longer he could keep it up. The idea of force sensitivity had fascinated him from the start, and to gain knowledge of the Force he needed the Jedi, and their trust. But he hated the Jedi. He'd kept them fooled for weeks, but…

He was roused from his dark thoughts when a droid bumped into him. The boxes it was carrying fell to the floor.

"I'm sorry sir," the droid said as it started collecting its boxes.

"Blasted stupid droid! Have your worthless photoreceptors checked!" he fumed, considering if destroying the piece of junk was worth the trouble with the Council. They frowned on wanton destruction. Damn them.

"I didn't mean to sir."

"You…" Vren trailed off as his eyes fell on one of the boxes. It was a simple cardboard box. It looked completely ordinary. But it felt strange… there was something off about it, very strange… It attracted him, drew him it.

He had to have it.

"Droid, why didn't you tell me you had my package?" he brandished the box before it, putting on his best displeased-master voice.

"That package is for delivery to-"

"Are your memory chips up to date?"

"Why of course they-"

"Enough. You are obviously in need of maintenance. I am a member of the Jedi order and you will defer to me: the package is mine." Before the droid could protest, he turned and left.

Once outside in the night air he examined the package more closely. He could tell it contained something dark. Dark and very powerful, very dangerous. It seemed to be calling him, almost audibly like an angry mutter, or a whisper. It promised power, promised the Dark Side. He held it close. He couldn't open it here, no, he had to get back the to ship, he would be safe there. He tucked it into his robes and made his way through the enclave back to the Ebon Hawk.

Once on board he checked to see that everyone was asleep. He checked the women's quarters. Mission was curled up in her blankets, snoring softly. Bastila's bunk was empty, with its covers perfectly made. She was staying in her old room at the enclave. In the men's dorm, Zaalbar was spilling out of his bunk while Carth slept rigidly, yet soundly, in his. Vren went to the cargo bay. He placed the box on the ground and knelt before it. He could hear it more clearly now, it was louder, angrier, he could almost make out the words… almost...

With trembling hands, he torn away the tape, and opened the box.


Bastila screamed and bolted up as she awoke. Her brow was soaked with cold sweat. What had happened? She had felt some kind of deep trauma on the other side of her bond. Had something happened to Vren? Something involving his lost memory? She had to check on him. She hastily got into a nightgown and ran out of her room in the enclave to the Ebon Hawk.

She ran up to the loading ramp. She started up the ramp and jumped as she saw Vren standing at the top, glaring coldly down at her. Suddenly, she was aware that her gown was showing more than she would like, she tried to cover herself, preparing to rebuke his flirts.

"What do you want?" he said. His tone was dark, as was his impatient glare.

No smart remark? No ogling? Not even a smirk? Something is definitely wrong, she thought. She was almost disappointed.

"Are you alright? I felt something through our bond."

"I'm fine," he said flatly.

"What happened? What did you feel, you must have felt something."

"Just a nightmare," he said even more flatly.

"A nightmare? What about?"

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember?"

"No."

Bastila furrowed her brows. He had never acted this way before. She searched their bond. She felt it carefully sealed shut so that not even the tiniest trace of feeling or intent could pass between. That should be beyond his power, she thought. She was at a complete loss as to what was going on.

"If there is nothing else, I suggest we go to bed."

An idea suddenly occurred to her. She placed her hands on her hips in false indignation. "What do you mean we should go to bed? I hope you're not suggesting we do it together." she said.

You said it, I didn't.

Quite an imagination you have there, princess.

Interested, are we?

You would only've said that if you already had the image of it running around inside your cute little head.

Any of these responses, Bastila would have expected. Vren didn't give her an expected response. In fact, he didn't give her any response at all. Instead, Vren maintained his iron-clad expression for a few long, very long, moments and then turned away, closing the ramp behind him.

Bastila stood gaping. She had expected him to at least acknowledge her, not regard her with such utter contempt. She would report this to the Jedi Council in the morning. They would know what was going on, they would know what to do.


Bastila and Vren left the council chamber, closing the door behind them. Vrook spoke first.

"Young Bastila was right, I felt nothing of Revan in him. Something has gone wrong."

Vandar pinched the bridge of his nose. "How could this happen? We needed his information on the Sith."

Zhar said, "Perhaps we placed too much faith in our abilities. We may have created a flaw in Revan's mind when we placed that of Vren Arlad over it. Now that flaw has proved fatal."

"Do you think he could still access memories from Revan?" Dorak said.

"It's impossible to say. At least there is less chance that he could reclaim the title of Dark Lord. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise," said Vrook. He had supported simply killing Revan's body, along with what was left of his mind. To keep this traitor alive was nothing short of madness to him.

"If their bond remains then something of Revan was absorbed by Arlad, though none of his personality," said Vandar.

Zhar nodded. "I felt that too. Vren is much more focused and humorless."

"Good. He has less of a chance of falling to the dark side with that state of mind," Vrook said. Zhar noted that focused and humorless was a good description of Vrook as well. "My point is that he may still have hidden memories of the Sith plans."

"He still has power as well. Did young Bastila not say that he was sealing their bond?"

Dorak said, "I'm not sure of that Master Vandar, the bond may simply be severed and young Bastila cannot tell the difference. But I suppose that we will never truly know."

"I will continue his training uninterrupted and report the results, then we will decide if we should send him on their mission," Zhar announced.

All nodded in agreement.


Vren was turned lose on the plains of Dantooine two weeks after his latest meeting with the council. He went alone, wrapped in a matte brown cloak. He needed no one distracting him or braking his shadowy trail of thought, or noticing that he was more skilled with a saber than he should be.

He saw an orange Twi'lek in Jedi robes standing on a bridge along his path. He pretended not to see him. As he approached the Jedi greeted him. "Good morning young padawan."

"Master," he said curtly, walking past him.

" Wait! I have something to ask of you."

Vren grimaced, and then turned to face him. "Your wish master?"

" I am trying to resolve a murder case, I would greatly appreciate your input."

"I'm sure your skill at this sort of thing far surpasses mine. In any event I am on an important mission of my own." He then turned and continued over the bridge.

As he continued on he noticed yet another band of Mandalorians, one was in the red armor of a Rally Master, apparently the leader. He didn't think he could avoid being diverted by them, but he tried, simply ignoring them as he strode towards the ancient grove. A blaster bolt singed the tree beside him, stopping him. "Are you blind jedi? Come and face us!" That did it. He leapt into the air, his green saber blazing. He moved like a hurricane, first one Mandalororian fell, then another, and another, and then a Duros. The Rally Master moved at him with a pair of vibroswords. Vren flipped over him with ease and summarily executed a mou kai, severing both arms and legs. Finishing the remaining warriors with no trouble, he turned back toward the grove.

"Finish me…" said the faint voice of the Rally Master. Vren looked down at him. There were two lightsabers on his belt. He floated them to his own and continued.

"Finish me you hairless Wookiee!" the limbless man shouted. Vren didn't turn. He didn't want to kill him. There was nothing even remotely merciful about that sentiment, he just thought killing the man wasn't worth his time, it was beneath him. Since the night he found the box, everything was beneath him.

He felt a dark presence in the Force. He drew his lightsaber. This didn't feel like a tainted kath hound, this had a mind stronger than theirs, a Force sensitive mind. A fallen jedi, it must be. He thought. A little test of loyalty from Zhar, they want me to bring their little lost lamb back on my shoulders. He paused for a moment, considering his course of action.

He proceeded through a gap in the mesas and faced a ruined temple. In it kneeled a seventeen-year-old Cathar covered in short, pale fur. She stood, ignited a red lightsaber, shouted, "I will be your doom!" and attacked. Blunt and direct; I can respect that. She was sloppy however, her footing was wrong, her attacks blind, her defenses fidgety. He quickly found an opening and drove his blade ten centimeters into her belly.

She fell to her knees with a stifled cry and dropped the lightsaber, its safety turning it off as it fell. She looked up at him almost pleadingly with her striking yellow eyes.

"What are you waiting for? (cough) Finish me!" Vren was surprised how little the wound seemed to trouble her. The Cathar constitution was strong.

"I have no interest in killing you Cathar." There was no compassion in his voice.

"I am beaten, I am good for nothing but defeat," she said miserably.

"How did you come to that conclusion? And who are you?"

The girl introduced herself as Juhani, and went on to tell a tale of woe over her killing of her master and of her pent insecurity. Vren's feelings told him that there was something even stronger driving her towards the dark side, but he couldn't quite place it. Some sort of childhood trauma he reckoned. How much hate this girl had!

"Juhani, jedi do not train their padawans to be the best jedi, they just train them to be jedi. All they ask is that you commit yourself."

"Are you mad? Have you not been listening? I struck down my master! There is no redemption from that."

"Would you kill Quatra again if you had the chance?"

"No. No, I would never do it again."

"What would you give to bring her back? Your life? The dark side?"

"Anything, anything at all, anything worth giving."

"That will satisfy them, the jedi forgive anyone who is truly repentant." In a way they forgave Revan when he wasn't even repentant, he mused to himself.

"Do… Do think they would? Are you sure?"

"Yes. And even if I wasn't, you have little real choice."

"Yes, you are right. How could I be so blind?"

She stood up, but then grimaced at the pain of her wound and collapsed onto one knee.

"You should not try to walk. You would never make it back to the enclave in your shape."

"No, I can manage, just let me heal myself."

"I have some medpacs that will help."

"I said no!" She immediately regretted her tone, averting her eyes in shame. Vren almost smirked. Such fierce individualism, no wonder the jedi scorn her. She could never be a very good jedi, but what a perfect sith, he thought. After a long time carefully repairing her organs, Juhani's wound allowed her to travel and he escorted her back to the enclave.