A/N: Hi there! I decided that I don't have enough to do this semester, so I am gonna work on two fics for two different fandoms simultaneously. However this means that I may not be able to update as much as I really want to on either, so once we get past what I do have written on this (I'm on Chapter 11) I will probably slow down to a chapter or two a week, depending.
This fic is the second epic in the Schrödinger's Memories (and the second in the Schrödinger's Trilogy), following Jedi Exile Trista Morace as she unwillingly regains her connection to the Force and deals with the state of the galaxy she left a decade earlier. While this may be a decent standalone fic, I highly recommend reading Schrödinger's first to get a basis for my Revan. Take a rainy day and read it or something.
And for those of us joining me from Schrödinger's, welcome back! We'll see how this goes.
She knew that walking away would be the hardest thing she'd ever done.
But as the woman once feared as Darth Revan walked away from her ship, leaving a deactivated HK-make droid and a lone Astromech who watched her from the lowered ramp, she knew it was the only option. Traveling on ahead, alone, further into the unknown. Staying on the ship, staying with the droids . . . that brought back too many memories, memories of happiness, memories that didn't have a place where she was headed and would only continue to make her nostalgic and distracted.
She approached the transport official, making sure to not look out of place in the surprisingly busy crowd. This wasn't an Empire-held world - though she'd found many of them and increasingly more as she went further, and she knew that even worlds uncontrolled by the Empire were still regulated by them. She was still surprised she hadn't been marked further, especially after that incident the year before on her first Empire-held world.
"I need transport," she said, as she got within speaking distance of the officer.
"The nearest world where I may purchase a ship. Or another sort of independent transport." She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Without having to 'borrow' it with no intention of returning."
He glanced past her at the now-closed Hawk, scanning it. "If you're looking to sell, I-"
He was cut off as the ship's engines roared, and it swept off the landing pad and into the sky. She smiled sweetly at him. "I'm not. Transport, please?"
She bought her ticket and headed towards the appropriate dock, looking back in time to catch the Hawk's lights as it sped back into space. Good luck, my friend, she thought, staring after it wistfully for a second or two. I'm sorry.
"Not a Jedi," Trista Morace hissed under her breath as she paced down the Harbinger's deck, heading towards the medical bay. "If I have to explain that one more time . . ."
The woman in question wasn't, in fact, a Jedi, though a decade ago she would have answered that question very differently. Traveling the Rim and Unknown Regions, looking for odd jobs - it was a far cry from what she once had been, but she'd learned to cope. Just the previous year she'd finally gotten to a point where she no longer attempted to use the Force - she was a normal, perfectly functioning human. Or, at least mostly functioning - no, perfectly functioning.
And why anyone needed to see her was a mystery.
And she'd been gone for so long that her immune system had needed regular vaccinations and booster shots. She'd even been kept in isolation initially, the officers afraid that she carried some awful unknown disease. She'd been cleared, but she still needed the vaccinations they insisted on.
"Hello," she said to the medical technician as she entered the med bay. "I'm here for my last round of vaccinations?"
"Just slide your keycard into the console, ma'am, and we'll get started." The tech smiled - a charming grin, that showed a good number of his teeth in his dark face - and motioned to one of the chairs. She smiled back, though it didn't extend to her eyes, and did so. It chimed, indicating that it was the one she'd used before, and she settled down as the medical droid tromped over. She was surprised - the droid didn't look like one of the typical models. But she'd heard that some had to be decommissioned, and it was likely a protocol droid repurposed to a different function.
She thought, as she closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the droid preparing her vaccination cocktail next to her, that it was good no one but the Captain knew her name. In Republic space she wasn't Trista Morace, or even a general. She was referred to as the Exile, as the captain had explained, the only Jedi to submit herself to returning to the Jedi Council for judgment after the Mandalorian Wars and then leaving to fulfill her sentence.
He'd filled her in, generally, on what had happened in the decade since as well. Revan had returned with an army, attacking the Republic when it was weakest. She had initially been believed dead from a Republic strike team but in reality the former Sith had returned as a Jedi known as Anna Kyjjl, striking down Malak during a battle over an unknown world on an unknown station. If it was the truth Trista thought it was sad - they had both been her friends, and they had once been closer than the Jedi had recommended.
For some reason though no one would tell her how the Jedi had fared in this war, just that they had needed to find her. Who had needed to find her, and why, no one would say. And she couldn't ask Revan - she'd disappeared into thin air during the third victory fleet tour, two years to the day after they'd demolished the space station, taking her ship and a Mandalorian companion known only as Ordo to the galaxy. This had even been before everyone had known who she was - afterwards, a Jedi had outed her as Revan and the Republic had nearly exploded with a combination of confusion and rage directed at the Order, only simmering down not long before the Harbinger had picked her up.
The rage had ceased just a year before now.
She'd just, a few days ago, called for transport after her ship crashed and the hail had been picked up by the Republic ship she'd found herself on. The ship looking for her.
If she had still been a Jedi, she would have muttered something under her breath about the Force. Since she wasn't, she merely thought it, and then cursed the thought for occurring to her.
She let herself slump slightly in her chair. Whatever reason the Jedi or the Republic had to summon her, it wouldn't be good. The Jedi likely wanted to admonish her once more, and possibly this time confine her to the Temple so she could "think about her actions." She didn't understand the point. She couldn't feel the Force anymore - she was no more dangerous than a soldier with a blaster to a Jedi.
The droid pricked her arm to deliver her vaccination cocktail, but almost immediately she felt something was wrong. With reflexes honed by years of living beyond the Rim, she reached up and grabbed its metal arm, only then realizing that it wasn't a repurposed protocol droid as her eyes went blurry, and her limbs suddenly started to weaken. She heard the tech rush over, frantically checking her, but she couldn't reply as she slumped back against the medical chair and felt herself slip into darkness.