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Meetra listened to him talk, of a jedi’s ultimate duty, whether it was to their Master, or to their oath, to those that oath bound them to protect.
After a while she found her focus drifting, drawn away from his words and into her connection by the growing intensity of feeling around her. From Feron Tahas she sensed strong agreement, surprising her – Tahas had always been unstintingly obedient to the Masters, had never hidden his disdain for Revan and Malak – whereas Atris and Bastila were both appalled, Daya listening but not swayed and mostly worried about Meetra and Atris. From Nehal Baradaon Meetra felt nothing, as if he’d been expecting an unwelcome visitor, and vacated accordingly.
Malak was pouring eagerness into the Force, perhaps infecting some of the more impressionable padawans without even meaning to, while Revan was the power at the heart of the vortex, the furnace whose heat was beginning to ignite something in the others. Meetra felt real passion there, and sincerity, horror at what had been done to Cathar and now Taris, conviction that his duty as a jedi required him to join the war whether the Council sanctioned it or not, grim determination that they would not stop him.
Meetra made her decision. ‘I have something to say.’
Revan was all too happy to cede the floor. She told them exactly what she had felt of Cathar and Taris, slowly lowering the walls she’d thrown up around her connection, so they could feel the echoes of it for themselves.
Daya was sad for her, Bastila concerned, Atris scared, Malak eager, Revan appraising, but none of them said anything, and her words were met only with silence.
With a sinking heart, Meetra realised that neither Daya nor Bastila were going to speak in support of her, not when the Masters’ decision was clear. She turned in desperation to Atris, who was staring back, frozen and horrified.
‘I felt it too,’ announced a small voice – Baradaon, out of all of them – ‘not like Meetra or Revan did, but the same echo, both times.’ Nehal stepped out from the corner, visibly uncomfortable at the attention he’d drawn to himself. ‘I know the Masters don’t want to do anything, but this war is coming, whether they or the Senate want it or not, and personally I don’t see how waiting for the Mandalorians to conquer a planet the Senate cares about before getting involved serves the sacred vows we all swore to protect those who cannot protect themselves, whatever price we might pay.’
Revan wasn’t smiling, but Meetra could feel him resisting the impulse. He made a subtle gesture with his fingers.
‘Then let us all hope the Masters come to their senses,’ Malak declared, contempt dripping from his voice, ‘for the sake of all those they and we have sworn to protect.’
Later, Revan and Malak made quiet visits to the cells of each jedi present who Revan had felt agree with Baradaon, and in the early hours of the morning nineteen knights and padawans defied their Masters, and went to war.
Atris tried to stop her, when Meetra was just finishing up packing. Her approach felt like the onrush of a hurricane, one that broke against the open doorway, resolving into the closest friend Meetra had ever had, the woman who had spent a lifetime by her side, supporting her in all things, now standing in her way, blocking her path.
‘Meetra something is happening. People are breaking the curfew, and I’ve just seen Malak. I think Revan’s up to somethi-’ Atris saw Meetra, dressed for travel, bags almost packed, and the words died in her throat as she understood.
‘I’m sorry.’
Atris looked stricken. ‘Absolutely not. Meetra it could kill you.’
Meetra looked away, and carried on packing. ‘I know.’
She heard the sharp intake of breath at the shock, and then there was a moment of silence, while Atris rallied for another attempt. ‘The Council has forbidden it. You know how far Revan has pushed them already. Any who defy them to join him would be expelled from the Order. Meetra we cannot go.’
Meetra finished packing, zipped her bags, and looked back at her. ‘I am going.’
Atris raised a hand to her mouth, horrified. ‘Without me?’
Meetra stood up, slinging the bags over her shoulder. She reached out with her free hand, and her lightsabre sailed across from her bedside. She clasped it to her belt, and stepped towards the door.
Atris didn’t move. ‘Meetra, you can’t.’
She closed her eyes, opened them. ‘I have to.’
‘Meetra no.’ Atris reached out to take a hold of her, pulling her close. ‘The Council won’t let you. If they even knew you were saying these things-’
-Meetra pulled back, trying to disengage, but Atris clung tighter.
‘Meetra you’re not yourself. It’s no surprise after all you’ve been through. You need to rest, and recover. You certainly can’t leave-’
-Meetra pulled hard, dragging Atris past her with such force it finally loosened the grip on her arm. Shaking herself free, Meetra took a step toward the doorway, then turned back, as Atris landed on the bed and stared up at her, uncomprehending, eyes full of hurt and shock.
Meetra raised her fists to her head, then dragged them down the sides of her face, as if that alone might claw the screams out of her skull. ‘I can feel them dying,’ she sobbed. ‘All of them together. Every time. I've been able to for a while, even when it was just the raids on Corsin and Azure, and the space battle above Kaelta. Then Cathar, now Taris.’ She could feel tears cascading down her cheeks. ‘How am I supposed to rest, or recover, when I feel the next planet, and the one after that, and every planet that burns before the Mandalorians are stopped? Atris I can’t live that.’ She blinked away the tears, took a breath to steady herself. ‘And even if I could, I refuse to stand by and let it happen, not when for all their prattle of mysterious concerns not a single Master on the Council seems able to articulate what exactly it is they’re so afraid of.’ Something clicked into place. ‘I understand why they don’t trust Revan, but I do, on this, more than them anyway, and if he’s the only one who’s going to do anything then I’m going to do it with him.’
When Atris spoke, her voice was quiet and small. ‘Please don’t go.’
Images swam through Meetra’s mind, of her hands parting from Atris’s: after Meetra had pulled her up following yet another fall in combat training; as children, when Meetra had found her and brought her back to the Enclave, the day she ran away; and at Meetra’s own bedside, when Atris had been the one looking after her as she felt planets die. They were memories, that Atris was reliving so strongly she couldn’t help but project them into their connection.
‘Please don’t leave me Meetra.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, as if it would do any more good a second time. She took a step toward the bed, reached a hand out instinctively, then let it drop. ‘I’ll come back to you, I promise.’
She stepped back, turning away so she wouldn’t have to see the look in Atris’s eyes, and walked out as quickly as she could.
Revan had arranged a ship via one of Kae’s contacts, using a cover provided by Echani intelligence.
They made it from the dormitories through the courtyard and almost to the exit of the tunnel to the landing zone before two dozen yellow beams ignited in the darkness ahead of them, revealing the Sentinels barring their way.
‘Nothing said in this place escapes our ears?’ Malak muttered.
‘The Grand Master does not require technology to communicate over distance. He must have suspected.’
‘You will go no further!’ one of the Sentinels declared. ‘The padawans will return to their rooms; the knights will come with us, to face the judgement of the Council.’
Revan fought to control his temper. Not in front of the others. Not now.
‘Stand aside,’ he told them.
They didn’t move. ‘You will have to cut us down to pass.’
Malak stepped up next to Revan, activating his own blade. ‘You think we won’t?’
The Sentinel nodded over Revan’s shoulder. ‘Will they?’
Good question. Time to find out. ‘You heard him,’ Revan called to them, not taking his eyes off the Sentinels. ‘We can go through them or we can go back, and sit idly by with the rest. If you think that’s any choice at all then do as they say.’
Revan heard fifteen lightsabres ignite in unison behind him, while Feron Tahas stepped forward, beside him and Malak, weapon still clipped to his belt. ‘You must stand aside, brothers. We are leaving, and will not be swayed.’
Every Sentinel raised their sabre to guard. ‘If you will not obey, you leave us no choice.’
Revan heard footsteps, coming quickly up the tunnel behind them. He was relieved to sense that it was just Meetra, late arriving after what he sincerely hoped had not been too painful a parting from Atris.
‘Revan what is happening?’
He risked a glance back at her. ‘What do you think?’
‘I see. Your plan?’
‘You can probably guess that too.’
‘No!’
She shoved her way through the other defectors, somehow avoiding losing a limb in the process, then pushed Malak aside and advanced through the gap to face the Sentinels.
She swept her gaze across their line. ‘You will let us pass.’
In unison, they lowered and then deactivated their blades, walked calmly to the sides of the tunnel – half to the left, half to the right – and then stood there, backs to the walls, gazing ahead at nothing.
Malak, Tahas and the rest sprinted immediately for the ship.
Revan didn’t move. ‘How did you do that? It is thought that no jedi alive has the power to arouse even an iota of doubt within them.’ He had seen his Master do it, once, but that had been just to one, and only for a moment, and Kae understood how the Force interacted with the mind better than any other jedi Revan had ever heard of. What Meetra had just done was far beyond what he had considered possible.
She glanced back at him over her shoulder, eyebrows rising. ‘Through my connection Revan. How do you think?’