If

Prologue

It all happened so fast.

The two Sith Lords walked right into the trap the Jedi had prepared outside Chibias, totally unprepared for the assault the Republic's ships unleashed on them. It had not taken much time to identify the flagships belonging to Revan, Malak and Karath and select their target. In the confusion of crossfire, the small fighters had easily bypassed the fearsome warship's defenses and the strike team had boarded. They had had to fight dozens - scores - of highly-trained Sith to reach the bridge, but the rushing adrenaline combined with the intense concentration of battle made the time fly. It came almost as a shock to find themselves just outside the doors of the command center, but there had been no time to waste in letting it sink in; one of them sliced open the door, and another wave of Dark Jedi came charging at them. Then Bastila had seen the Sith Master behind them, pacing.

Malak. Not Revan; Malak.

There had been no time to do anything but fight. Even while concentrating on her Battle Meditation, Bastila could hear her heart pounding and wondered where the mistake had been made. Then the last Dark Jedi fell - along with two of the light Jedi sent to help her - and Malak stood alone, furiously silent, the familiar sound of a lightsaber igniting cutting through the ship's alarms. Bastila drew closer to her remaining allies, painfully aware of how few they were, and stared with undisguised dread. He was bathed in the dark side like a Hutt in slime, its power pulsing through him and tainting the very air around him. He radiated brutality, cruelty, coldness, hatred, fury - and power. Pure power, the like of which Bastila had never sensed before, not so close. She could feel the tempting tendrils of the dark side tugging at her, and shuddered. The very idea of becoming like the inhuman monster before her made her blood boil. But, at the same time ...

"If you join me, you will taste power like nothing the Jedi could teach you." Malak's voice, deep though altered by the voice synthesizer, resounded throughout the room.

"Never." Bastila surprised herself with the resolve in her voice. "You cannot win, Malak." The Sith Lord laughed. Someone next to her inhaled. She tightened her grip on her lightsaber.
She felt a warning in the Force only a split second before the floor was thrown out from under them. The ship reeled from the blast, trembling like a leaf, whimpering like a wounded kath hound. Even Bastila, who knew little about the construction of starships, knew this was a very bad sign. Thank the Force, someone got a direct hit on this behemoth! Her relief gave way to heart-racing alarm: they had to get off, now. She dragged herself to her feet quickly, noting with surprise how relatively uninjured she was.

The same could not be said of the bridge. Some of the explosions that shook the ship so violently had taken place here - shards of metal, plasteel and other now-unrecognizable materials were everywhere. At least one terminal was on fire. One whole wall had gone out, only black debris showing where the circuitry had been. A huge roof girder had fallen, and someone was pinned under it. The realization of who it was hit her like a lightning-bolt before she was even halfway there. She knelt next to the prostrate form of the Dark Lord. Unconscious, he looked much less intimidating, much smaller. Blood flowed from several places; a lot of blood. Bastila could sense the small remaining spark of life in him flickering, fading, like a holo-image being deleted. Soon the Sith Lord would be no more, just another casualty of the war he and Revan had started.

There was only one moment in which to decide.

A/N - Like many fellow fanfic authors, i long for and dread reviews. Please comment, and if you don't like it, please be gentle. I promise to be reasonable - honest!

This is a complete story, but i may want to edit one or two chapters before posting them, but if people are interested i will post more.