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It took Revan’s foggy mind a moment to process what she was saying. Once he figured it out, he couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“So I finally get to learn your name,” he said. “Scourge. No wonder you didn’t want to tell me.”

“Make jokes once we’re safely away from here,” Scourge said.

“He’s right,” Meetra told him. “Tee-Three’s keeping watch at the top of the stairs. Come on.”

“Go ahead,” the Sith told them, drawing his lightsaber and approaching the guards cowering on the floor. “I’ll take care of the witnesses.”

“No,” Revan said. “I promised to protect them.”

Scourge gave him a look of utter disbelief. “It’s going to be hard enough to get out of here without escorting these pathetic excuses for soldiers.”

“I gave them my word,” Revan said. A rush of dizziness swept over him, and he reeled.

“What’s wrong?” Meetra asked, reaching out to catch him before he fell.

“They keep me drugged,” Revan said. “I just need a minute.”

With Meetra’s help he lowered himself to the floor. His heart was pounding and his head was spinning. During the confrontation with the guard, he must have instinctively used the Force to keep the worst of the drug’s effects at bay. But he wasn’t strong enough to keep it up any longer, and now his body was responding with an acute over-reaction.

Scourge stepped over to a medkit on the wall and yanked it open. He grabbed a hypodermic filled with a green luminescent fluid.

“This will help,” he said, injecting it into Revan’s arm. “But it will take a few minutes.”

“I have something else,” Meetra told him. “Bastila asked me to give it to you.”

She nodded at Scourge, who pulled a package from the large pouch on his hip. He tossed it to Revan, who didn’t even try to catch it, but just picked it up off the floor.

The object was wrapped in cloth. It was clearly metal, and there was something oddly familiar about it.

“You spoke with Bastila?” he asked. “You saw her?”

Meetra nodded. “And your son. They’re both well.”

Revan smiled. His mind felt like it was floating blissfully away, but he wasn’t sure if the euphoria was triggered by thoughts of his family or the drugs still working their way out of his system.

He unwrapped the cloth to reveal the masked helmet he had worn during his campaigns against the Mandalorians and the Republic. In an instant, all his lost memories came flooding back to him.

A million images—years upon years of forgotten people, places, and events—flooded his consciousness simultaneously. In his weakened state it was too much to take. As his brain went into sensory overload, his body went limp.

——

“WHAT’S HAPPENING?” Scourge demanded as Revan collapsed on the floor.

“I—I don’t know,” Meetra said, her hands fumbling to check Revan’s pulse as he lay motionless on the ground.

His eyes were closed, but the lids were fluttering madly. Otherwise he was completely still.

From the stairs, T3 let out a piercing wail, several octaves higher than the incessant alarms.

“Someone’s coming!” Meetra said.

Scourge turned to the guards still sitting on the floor.

“Ready your blasters, you fools!” he shouted.

As they scrambled to their feet, T3 let out what could only be described as a shriek of terror. An instant later, the little astromech came tumbling down the stairs and bounced across the floor as if he’d been shot from a cannon. He landed in the corner on his back, his wheels still spinning.

“Get Revan out of the way,” Scourge said to Meetra.

As she dragged the Jedi’s unconscious body into the nearby cell, one of the guards drew his weapon, while the other rushed over and picked his discarded blaster up from where Revan had kicked it aside.

Scourge nodded at the guards. In response to his silent command they crept to the foot of the stairs and peered up toward the door above.

A burst of purple lightning arced down the steps, catching both men in the chest. They barely had time to scream before they were turned into charred and smoking husks.

Scourge took a step back, knowing exactly who had been responsible