Yep. Just barely, though. He looks to be quite unconscious and incapable of getting out.

Great. This is just what she needed to have happen right now. She's not going to be able to leave until she at least wakes him up and figures out if he's evil or not.

Ana goes over to a likely-looking console and starts pushing buttons. Hopefully she can wake him up without causing pain.

A few of the buttons activate some nasty looking instruments, but they seem to be built to be personally used instead of letting a machine do it. Just turning them on doesn't hurt him at all.

One of the buttons kills the force shield around his cell.

His eyes snap open and he raises his hand and reaches towards something with the Force, to crush - oh, it's just the thing holding him aloft. He drops out of the air, landing in a bit of a heap, but he struggles to his hands and knees quickly enough.

"Kotsoksh nu -" he begins to snarl, and then he stops. In a soft, amazed voice: "... Ja'ak?"

The last time she heard that language was right before the Emperor made something really nasty happen. Ana shifts into a guard position, somewhat stiffly.

"Before you continue I should tell you that I killed the last guy who spoke like that to me."

"Kandoshii," he says, smiling a little. That was not in the sith language, that was Mando'a. He looks up and peers at her, tilting his head a little and eyeing her guard stance.

He rubs the bridge of his nose a bit and then carefully says, "... Apologize. Ss, mir'osik - apologies, I - one talk partner." Slightly edged smile. "Use one language. Not harm you."

Perhaps he looks familiar. Or maybe his voice sounds familiar. Or maybe the haggard and slightly hollowed look of his face and the broken way he speaks are throwing both off too much.

He does look familiar somehow, but she definitely doesn't know anyone who speaks the Sith language. Ana relaxes her guard a bit when he starts speaking Basic. But not completely, no matter how much her side protests. He still might be a crazy Sith who's going to try to stab her once he can stand. Even if she's never heard of a Sith who can speak Mando'a.

"Why are you in the Emperor's private torture room?"

"Scenery," says the man, flippantly, as he gets to struggling to stand. He is very wobbly, but very determined.

"...if I help you up, are you going to try to stab me?"

"No. Don't have..." He searches for the word. "... angle, for past guard. Embarrass myself." Pause. "Rude. ... Also ironic."

Yeah, there's definitely something about his attitude that's nagging at her. She approaches and lends him a hand, on her non-injured side. When he's on his feet, she asks, "What's your name?"

He accepts the hand, and shakily stands. He looks very pleased about it.

"Revan. Hi. Jedi?"

Ana very nearly drops him.

"Revan's dead." Or is supposed to be anyway.

Oh shit he does look just like the holocron underneath all the mistreatment-

"Only mostly!" he replies, amused.

Revan's not dead. Revan was being tortured by the Emperor for three hundred years. Revan's alive. Revan's alive and Ana is holding his hand.

She opens her mouth to say something. Nothing comes out. She closes her mouth. Then winces in pain as the wound in her side flares up again.

"Hurt," murmurs Revan, frowning. "... Wait. Thing for - kolto."

He declines to wobble his way to the console while he kind of needs her help to keep standing, so - he prods it with the Force. It's built to be prodded with the Force, sometimes the Emperor was lazy. He knows the button to press.

A panel on the side of the cell opens and reveals a series of kolto hyposprays.

"Kolto!" he affirms, satisfied.

"Oh. Good," she says, faintly. She leans over to grab one and applies it, sighing as the numbness spreads.

"Um. Do you need one."

"Not now," he assures. "But steal all."

"Right." She grabs the rest. "I'm Ana, by the way. Jedi Knight."

"Pleasure!" Genuine smile. "Holocron not - airlock?" He seems so pleased by this fact. "Thought might."

Ana is still a little distracted by the actual living Revan right in front of her. It takes her a moment to remember he made a holocron.

"Holocron? Oh. Your holocron. Uh. Yes. Still in the Archives." Oh shit oh shit is he reading her mind (Ana is fully prepared to believe Revan can do absolutely anything if he's still alive after all this time.) "How did you. Um. Know?"

"Your guard," he says, brightly. "'S mine. Or, based on mine. Think you've improved it."

Ana ducks her head and blushes.

"I learned Niman from your holocron. Added some Ataru stuff."

Nod. "The balance is nice," he affirms.

Hmmmmm is he able to wobble on his own to the console to get it to give up all of its expensive goodies? Probably not. He pokes at buttons with the Force some more.

Various compartements slide out to reveal their contents. Ana is somewhat alarmed by how well-stocked of a medical bay this torture chamber is.

"I don't suppose you would happen to know your way around this space station better than me?"

"How well d'you know it?" he asks, seriously. He floats himself a nutrient packet from one of the compartments to eat, because he needs calories. "Maybe? But didn't get field trips."

"We couldn't exactly get schematics of the place. I can get from here to the throne room, and from there eventually back to the bay we came in, but the Guard kind of wrecked our shuttle so I don't think that will help much."

Nod.

"So we need to steal a ship."

"Yes. I think the main difficulty will be in finding one, this place is a maze. I'm pretty sure all or almost all the Guardsmen on board are dead, so." Along with all her friends.

Revan frowns. He noticed that look. "We'll get out," he assures. "Then Empire disintegrates without Emperor. Did fantastic."

"My friends still died. They all died. I couldn't save even one." Ana sniffs, then visibly pulls herself together. She can mourn after they get off this station. "But you're right. Are you up to walking?"

"Probably. If not, can float. Bit - attention grabby, I'll try not to."

Wobbly walking attempt?

... Successful (but still very wobbly) walking attempt!

Ana will try not to hover. But that kolto really helped and she feels a lot better now and if he needs someone steady to hold on to, well.

He's got to work on his balance (like, a lot) but he has enough of it to not fall over. That, or he's literally holding himself steady with the Force. ... He's literally keeping his balance with the Force. Also sort of holding himself up a little.

"I'll walk it off," he assures her, waving a hand flippantly. Apparently he thinks it's appropriate to walk off three hundred years of being in the Emperor's custody.

He's just like his holocron.

He is.

It's a long walk back to the throne room. Ana will let him set the pace.

The pace is slow at first, but he speeds up as time goes on.

"... So, I think I know where to find a hangar," he says. "But, probably Sith Lord hangar."

"We are on the Emperor's private space station. I think most of the hangars are for Sith lords."

"Minions, too. Sith Lords get - backstabby." Pause. "... Detour for lightsabers? He kept mine."

Revan's sabers are important to him.

"Yes. Can you sense them from here?"

"Yes. Had nothing to do but meditate, looked for them. Hangar found same way, Sith arriving always come from far away to there."

"Okay."

Here is the throne room, just the way she left it. Dead bodies and all. Ana resolutely does not allow her gaze to linger on them. She goes up to the throne again to fiddle with the controls.

"Which way to your sabers?"

... Revan looks at the throne with a hint of distrust. Yeah, no, he's seen the way the Emperor works, he won't be fucking with any buttons he doesn't know the purpose of in this station.

Instead he rips the relevant door out of its frame. He has had nothing but time to meditate, and he's got a lot of pent up emotion. This is not difficult.

"That way," he says, dry.

...

"Nice."

"Thank you," he says, bowing a little. "Nothing but time to meditate." And, you know, willpower battles with the Emperor of the Sith. And torture. But whatever, details.

"I'll follow you, then? You know where we're going."

Nod!

No one bothers them on the way there, though Revan does rip another door out of its frame.

And then they are in a trophy room. Revan's lightsabers are not the only things present.

Some of this stuff is downright macabre. Weird skulls, hands in jars, scale model of Nathema...

"Is that your old HK unit?"

Blink.

"... Yes!" He pulls his lightsabers to his hands and then puts them away to investigate HK-47. "Power cells are dead," he pronounces, near immediately. "Joint servos rusted over, heat exhaust - what even is that. Did a mynock - nevermind, don't want to know." Pause. "... I'll just take behavior core and memory banks. Make him a new body. He'll understand."

He gets to carefully removing them.

"Anything you want from here?" he asks, while doing this.

"Not really. Most of this is a little too evil for my tastes."

"The pickled hands are a little tacky," he agrees.

Even without a hydrospanner, it doesn't take him long to recover the necessary personality and memory bits for HK-47. He has the Force, which is better than any hydrospanner.

"Okay. Now for the hangar."

Ana will let him lead again.

...she kind of wants to see him rip more doors off their hinges.

Good news! There are at least two unhelpful doors between them and the hangar. They become divorced from their hinges without any sense of ceremony.

And then: there is a hangar.

There is a shuttle currently inside the hangar!

"I don't think that has a hyperdrive. But it should get us to the surface. And it hasn't been exploded into three distinct pieces."

He gives her a slightly concerned look, but - he moves on. Now's not the time. "... Yes. I don't think I can fly it, can you?"

"Looks like a fairly standard Imperial model. Yeah. Shouldn't be too much trouble."

These usually have a pad about here-ish to lower the ramp from outside- yep, there we go.

Excellent! It would be impractical for Revan to rip this door off of its hinges. Vacuum's not exactly great for being alive.

"How long to travel?"

"Depends how sneaky we want to be," says Ana. She heads for the controls and starts running pre-flight checks. "Straight shot from here to the spaceport, maybe fifteen minutes. If we want to juke around a bit to disguise our origin or if we want to land anywhere other than Kaas Central, up to a couple hours."

"Probably some sneak. You're a Jedi, I'm Revan. ... Kaas Central?"

"The main spaceport of the Imperial capital. We almost certainly don't actually want to land there."

"... That was not the Imperial capital that I recall. How long has it been?"

"Almost three hundred years since you took off for the Unknown Regions with no one but that HK accompanying you."

"Oh."

"Sorry."

Diagnostics are finished, and everything comes back green. Ana pilots the shuttle carefully out of the bay.

"That's, um, why I was so shocked to find you."

"Yeah, that - yeah." He finds a chair and sits. "Three hundred years. What's - happened since?"

"A lot? Um. The Order was rebuilding when you left, I think. Two hundred years of mostly-nothing. About fifty years ago the Empire invaded full force. We weren't ready. They pushed us pretty much all the way back to the Core. They raided Coruscant and razed the Temple there. Then like, the next day they signed a peace treaty that stabilized the borders where they were. We still don't know why. That held for about twenty years with just skirmeshes and stuff. Then the war flared back up and the treaty was basically trashed. We're doing better this round."

"Overextended themselves?" He wonders. "And the first attack came later than they'd wanted, if two hundred years after. Guess I hurt them more than I thought."

"What... what happened after you went away? I asked your holocron but you didn't give him enough information to guess."

"Well, I was sort of trying to figure out the holes in my head. I remembered it was something I saw in the Unknown Regions, so - I went looking. And I found the Sith Empire... by getting my ship blasted out of the sky, aaaaaand then I blew stuff up and nearly killed the Emperor, but didn't actually manage it, and - then this."

This. Right.

"We should probably figure out what our groundside cover is. What sort of transponder codes does this thing have..." Buttons buttons buttons. "Okay. I think I can fake us as a routine materiels shipment to one of the outlying posts. We can land there and get into the city on foot."

Nod. "You know the planet better than I do. Any suggestions?"

"Stealth is... not my strong suit. But when we were infiltrating, most of the trouble was getting on-planet in the first place. I think if we can steal a vehicle from the outpost, probably some credentials too, we should be okay. As long as we can avoid running into any Sith."

Nod. "I can improvise. My language skills are even almost passable."

"Yeah, I've definitely noticed some improvement."

"I'll be doing tongue twisters within the hour."

"So you can distract the guards with that no-doubt dizzying display of skill while I go steal a speeder! I like this plan."

"It's foolproof! No way it could go wrong!"

"Said the monkey lizard to the dianoga. I'm going to start our approach soon, can you check the lockers in the back for anything we could use as a disguise?"

"Yep!"

Do the lockers have anything for a disguise?

Several Army uniforms in both their sizes. A few sets of armor with face-concealing helmets, but they'd only fit Revan.

"... Do you think you could convincingly play as a Sith? Because there is a face-concealing helmet that would let me pretend to be a soldier, and be your minion."

"...Maybe? I can put on my angry face and slap anyone who tries to question me around with the Force."

"If you think you can do it convincingly, it seems a good way to avoid being questioned. But if you don't think you can, it'll probably attract Sith attention."

"How dare you question a Lord of the Sith! I should take your head for this insolence!"

Ana growls very convincingly.

"The growl is convincing, the dialogue choices less so. Feels like you're trying too hard to me."

"Really? I thought it was just how they talked. All the Sith I've met have been all 'billions shall scream because of your deeds'. Very melodramatic."

"The bad ones, sure. The better ones - there's more of a sense of presence. It's like... knowing you're the most terrifying person in the room so completely that you don't ever feel the need to prove it. Just occasionally remind people if they forget."

If she's going to take lessons on how to be a Sith, she wants to take them from Revan. But the problem with being the most terrifying person in this particular room is that this particular room also contains a man who walked off being tortured for three hundred years like it was a twisted ankle.

"Okay. Um. Give me a minute."

She attempts summon up some of the aura that the Emperor projected. He was a shadow of infinite blackness, crouched up on his throne. It seemed more like the light fled from him. But she killed him. She was stronger. She has killed an Emperor today and if any of you miserable peons so much as look cross-eyed at her she will squish you like a bug-

Her snarl is low, building deep in her throat.

"Much better!" says Revan, pleased. He does not seem affected. "It also helps to ask questions like 'Do you think that is wise?' and 'Do you want to know what happened to the last person that told me that?' because however scary whatever you threaten to do with them is, whatever they imagine will likely be scarier. Not always, but often."

She thought she was going to have a harder time coming out of that but nope. (eeeeee he thinks she did good)

"Any other last-minute tips?"

"I'd recommend eyeliner or something, but I couldn't find any, so. Uh, how good are you at masking your emotions, if we do meet an actual Sith?"

"I used to be not very but then I had to fight an Emperor who would turn you into a mind-slave if you had even a tiny crack in your defenses, so I got much better at it."

"Well, I think it's safe to say you succeeded, so this'll be easy. ... Also, do you want a hug? It sounds like you've been through a lot."

"That would be nice," that would be so nice, "but you should probably go put your armor on, now."

Revan raises his eyebrows.

"The capital," he says, "is not going anywhere for a little while, and it can stand to wait for a hug."

And then he steps forward and holds his arms out for a hug.

Well if he's going to be like that-

Hug.

Hug!

He is good at hugs. Or, at least, he seems to find hugging people perfectly natural and relaxes into it a little.

(He might have also needed a hug, too.)

Of course he's good at hugs, Revan is good at everything.

Ana is contemplating do a head-to-shoulder lean thing when the proximity alert buzzes rudely.

"Um, you probably really should go put that armor on now. The outpost is in range."

"Yep, going!"

Un-hug, and then: armor!

Ana lands the shuttle on the pad. No one comes running out waving blasters around. So far, so good. Time to go be a scary Sith who inexplicably needs to borrow a speeder.

Revan will be her minion! He is a good minion, or at least, he's good at looming in a terrifying fashion wordlessly and subtly steering Ana towards the best speeder to borrow.

"I am taking that speeder," she informs the hapless sentry. He salutes and presents the starter for it. She snatches it out of his hands with the Force and strides off without looking back. They get into the speeder and take off. Still no one comes out to challenge them. Looks like they've made it.

Excellent!

"We should watch for law enforcement in the city, because the person might report it stolen, but - nicely done!"

Eeeeeeee!

"I don't think we'll be able to bluff someone into giving us a ship so easily."

"No, we'll just need to steal one."

"I've never stolen a ship before. You'll have to teach me."

"It'll be fun! The hard part's getting it the past the authorities in the system, just stealing it is comparatively easy."

"So pick something fast, is what I'm hearing."

"Actually, no. Before we pick something, we need to have a plan for getting out with it. Then we pick something and run."

"Okay. So we need to know, um, patrol routes, traffic patterns, that sort of thing?"

"Patrol routes and traffic patterns, eh. Take 'em or leave 'em. We need to have a way to tell the sith ships above the planet not to blow us up, is the important bit."

"How do we get that?"

"Depends on how this place is set up. It might be a giant mess of a thing we can dance through with our eyes closed, it might be an efficient and organized military system. I'd prefer the former, but I'm not expecting it."

"So step one is still get to the spaceport?"

Kaas City appears on the horizon. Time to put her Sith face back on.

"Yep. ... Might be we could just. Book passage out. Do you have any credits?"

"Not enough for two, I think. Not in Imperial currency, anyway."

"Damn. Maybe we should mug someone. ... They have Imperial currency?"

"Yeah? Hutts'll do conversions, but they take like a twenty percent fee."

"Of course they do. Hutts. Sorry, just - their own Sith-flavored money system. It's bizarre."

"I know, right?"

They enter the city proper. They are not stopped, but security droids seem to be omnipresent.

"Head straight for the spaceport or ditch the speeder first?" Ana whispers.

"Speeder."

Ana swings down tidily into the first unoccupied spot she sees.

"I think it's this way."

"Yep, lead on."

Revan keeps a proverbial eye out for suspicious people. Are they attracting attention?

They're still posing as Sith and bodyguard. Most citizens don't make eye contact, and the droids don't take any special interest in their movements.

He's just making sure! Safety.

Now, figuring out the procedures for letting ships leave the planet... First off, what are the requirements for booking passage the ordinary way? Can the two of them just. Do that?

The starting screen on all the booking terminals is a prompt to insert your exit visa below, and present your hand for fingerprint confirmation.

How annoyingly intelligent of them. There goes that idea, ship thievery it is.

He's not actually sure how to find out what system they have for checking ships. It's the sort of thing that a government doesn't want to get out. But does a cursory search turn up anything?

There are large signs posted at each private dock that say "Unapproved takeoffs will be met with lethal force. Flight plans must be submitted at least thirty minutes in advance."

Ana does her best to discourage curiosity by projecting Menace, but the pair of them are beginning to attract attention.

Yep, time to go. Revan gently and subtly ushers them away to a place that is not obviously in front of a bunch of people.

"Okay, so. They seem to be actually competent, which is quite a pity."

"I hate it when they get like that."

"They are only allowed to be competent when they are on my side," agrees Revan, sagely.

Hee.

"So what should we do now? I don't know how much longer this Sith disguise is going to work."

"We have a few options. We can attempt to stow away on a ship that already has permission to leave, which might not work out that well, since I imagine people regularly try it. Though, we are ourselves, and stowing away doesn't necessarily mean 'don't walk up to a ship and mindtrick everyone present into thinking we're legitimate,' but that's a bit unreliable. We can try to find a smuggler who will smuggle us out, which is the safest and most reliable option available, if we successfully find one such person instead of, say, a person that wants to hand us over to the Sith for a larger paycheck than we could give them. We can try to steal a ship, but we'd have to steal one that's about to leave and has already booked in advance, and then successfully navigate their dreadfully competent system from there without a hitch to avoid getting blown out of the sky. So uh. Depends on how we want to play this."

"This is probably a good time to mention I'm no good at mind tricks. I think we should find a smuggler?"

"I'm not great at them either. Best I can do is being sneaky and hard to find, straight mind tricks sort of don't sit right with me. Hmmm. How good do you think they are at oppressing people?"

"The Empire? They're pretty good. Why?"

"Well, being very good at oppressing people means that there are definitely smugglers running around, but it also means that they're very good at not being immediately spotted, because then they'd be dead. Also the smugglers might not be here, specifically, on this planet."

"Okay. So... how do you tell if someone's a smuggler?"

"That's a bit hard to explain. They'll have a cover that explains why they travel a lot, if they're any good they'll have an actual trail proving that they're not a smuggler. If you put an honest job in front of them, they'll accept. Except, they will mysteriously be in places where smuggling would be useful in their history, and every explanation will be air tight but strangely convenient. Their ship will have lots of little nooks in which to hide things. Possibly a piece of junk that they insist runs well. Which it will, through a mix of clever engineering workarounds, skill of the pilot and crew, and ignorance of galactic standard safety measures in favor of a more personalized and possibly vague idea of how not to make the ship explode. Personality - there's a stereotype, but it's definitely not always accurate, don't just look for the cocky self assured sarcastic shoots-first scoundrel. I've met several smugglers that look about as interesting as accountants, but never get caught. The crew will be close-knit and long term. Uh - if they're on this planet they will be very, very good at their jobs."

"So, two avenues of investigation. Look for a ship that fits or look for a crew that fits. A registry of ships currently docked shouldn't be that classified. I could probably slice it if I can get ten minutes on one of the terminals here. For the crew, um, check local cantinas?"

"Local cantinas sounds better for getting a feel for the planet along with finding a smuggler. ... Though you should probably not act like a sith while we're in the cantina, that will definitely attract attention."

"I was beginning to worry my eyebrows would get stuck like that anyway. What are you going to do about the armor?"

"Uh. Do you think I could look convincingly like your apprentice or something? ... That's a stupid question, of course I can act like a sith. But it'll be more noticeable to have two sith together, and I might need the armor again later... Find a safe place to stash it if we need it later?"

"Okay. Here, take my robe, wrap it up in that." Underneath she is wearing an unremarkable black jumpsuit. "Better take my sabers with that, if I'm not a Sith anymore."

"... New addendum to plan, we get more clothes so you can have your sabers with you but hidden, and so that I can look less like a raggedy hobo underneath the armor."

Hee.

"Good point. Um. You stay here while I go get some?"

"Yep!" Pause. "Black please, for my clothes, I am a boring man who hates wearing color."

"I'll be back in a bit, then."

It takes her just under half an hour to find an appropriate store, purchase the necessary articles, and return. She's wearing a long overcoat that will serve to conceal her weapons from casual inspection.

"Here you go. I'm pretty sure Imperial clothes only come in black, grey, and dark grey, so you're in luck."

"Excellent, we don't get to test whether or not I spontaneously combust when exposed to brightly dyed clothing. Now, let me go find a place to change..."

"There's a 'fresher a couple doors down from here."

Ana will take her turn staying and watching their things.

And Revan will be out soon enough, decked in black and various shades of grey and looking less scruffy now, with pockets filled with lightsabers and three hundred year old HK-47 parts.

"All right. Now we can stash the stuff we don't need."

Ana stands up.

"You look, um, more like your holocron now."

"But more handsome, right?" He grins. "Though, how recognizable am I? Or, how well known am I, I suppose is the better question."

"I found your holocron more or less by accident? You're sort of mentioned in the history curriculum but the only holos of you are with that mask you had. I don't think you'd be widely recognized back home, but. This isn't home."

"Huh. But they're Sith, so I bet they'd know me by my mask, not my face. Since that was when I was hooked on evil."

Giggle.

"We should be safe-ish to walk around and look for a place that rents storage lockers then, I guess."

"How sure are we that storage lockers don't get checked? Because our stuff to store is, uh. It's itself."

"Well, what else can we do? I don't really want to just leave it in an alley somewhere."

"Are we willing to stomach a walk outside of the city, hide it in the wilderness somewhere?"

"The lightning's pretty bad right now. It may not be safe to go outside the protected area."

Nod. "Fair. Storage locker it is, I guess."

And off they go into the cold, dark, rainy, enemy-occupied city. They eventually find a place that sells space by the day. Ana purchases a locker just big enough to fit their bundle, and stuffs it in.

"Cantina time?"

"Cantina time! We should avoid going to ones with lots of soldiers in it, for obvious reasons."

"Probably also ones with Sith in. Do Sith go to cantinas?"

"Sometimes. A few attempt to unwind, often by causing mayhem. Some have reasons for going there, others are looking for specific people to use as minions..." He shrugs. "It happens."

"So we stay clear of the area around the Citadel, probably a good idea in any case. Start near the spaceport and work outwards?"

"Hm, yeah. I'll be watching for Force-users anyway, so."

"All right. Let's go."

The first one they come to is brightly lit. Most of the patrons are seated at individual tables, talking quietly.

Hmmmm, this isn't immediately out, but Revan is not hopeful. Time to people watch.

The clientele are mostly upper-middle class, bureaucrats and businessmen traveling for work. None fit the stereotypical smuggler's profile. What conversation can be overheard consists of banal gossip, mundane politics, and some technical details of the precise nature of what they came to Dromund Kaas to do.

How fascinating for them.

Revan motions to Ana for them to leave. Time for a new cantina. A better cantina.

Ana will follow Revan. He is, after all, the one with experience in this sort of thing.

The next cantina might charitably be described as dingy.

Ooo, dingy. Revan is excited.

People watching time!

The lighting in here is dim, and most of the booths are shrouded in shadow. Conversations are low, hard to hear from a distance. There are a few spacers sitting at the bar, but they are mostly interested in their drinks and look disinclined to casual conversation.

Hmmmm. He suspects this place might liven up a bit later in the day, but he doesn't really want to wait that long mysteriously sitting in the corner...

"I," he says to Ana, "am going to go make some friends."

"D'you want help with that, or should I grab a table?"

"Either's fine. Do you want to help me make some friends?"

"Let's not come on too strong. Don't want to seem desparate. I'll be over there, if you need me."

"Mhm. Oh, and - when I make up fabulous lies, please agree with them. Do you have a preference for how I explain my relation to you to people?"

"Not really."

"All right then." Pause. "I now declare us husband and wife."

...

"Okay." She leans over to peck Revan on the cheek. "Have fun making friends, sweetie."

"Of course, dearest!" he says, brightly.

And then: off to make some friends.

Ana goes off to get a table, thankful that the low light is hiding the dopey smile she can't keep off her face.

It doesn't appear anyone has noticed their little by-play.

Good, he wants to be silly, but not so silly as to jeopardize anything.

Friends! He has a sense for people that look like they want to talk but aren't, is there an obvious one present?

There's an interesting-looking fellow over at one end of the bar, staring into his drink.

Well Revan will go say hi.

"Hey, sorry to bother you, could you recommend me a drink? Never been here before."

The man grunts in surprise. "Whad- whaddayou wan'?" he slurs.

By the smell of his breath, he's more than a few cups deep.

Ah-huh. Right.

"Drink recommendation, conversation. I can leave, if you'd rather."

"Why'd you wanna talk ta me for? I'm no good to anyone."

"No good to anyone? I don't believe that." Revan sits next to him. "See, how you're good for conversation. Bet I'll find more things, if I talk to you more."

"Only 'f y'don't wind up dead, like me partner." He heaves a sob, then grabs his glass and raises it up. "T' Jinx! Best damn copilot a man could ask for!" He tilts his head back and drains the glass. This takes a few seconds, it is not a small glass, and was still three-quarters full. He slams it back down, and motions to the bartender for another.

"My sincerest condolences," agrees Revan, with a solemn bow of his head. Behind the actual sincerity is the part of his brain that perks up at the word 'copilot.' Hello, something that could give him an in, how are you today?

"May I ask what happened?"

"Th' damned Empire is what happened!" He is just barely not drunk enough to shout this. "Exectuted him f'r smugglin' spice! Ain't never smuggled no spice!"

"Hey, hey, I believe you. Was it some kind of mix-up, maybe some Sith politics...?"

"I'll tell you what it is. 'M cursed, is what it is. First it was Nance got shot, back on Ord Mantell. Then Yuda got in deep wi' the Hutts and got hisself offed. And now Jinx. Sweet, beautiful Jinx." He breaks down and starts crying into his drink.

Revan gingerly goes to pat his shoulder. Pat, pat?

Sob. Drink. Sob.

Sob.

Is it tacky to ask what's happened to his ship...? Yeah, okay, a bit tacky. Don't ask that question, Revan. And this guy does not look like the type to bounce back with a vengeance after seeing their partner die. Useless to him? Useless to him.

But he can at least make sure he's well taken care of.

"You know," says Revan, soft, "where I come from, there's a tradition when someone you care about dies. To honor their memory, help - send them off."

"An' whas that?"

"Well, see - sometimes it wasn't always guaranteed to have everything the person owned, or even a body," he makes up, because he bets that all of Jinx's stuff has been taken and her corpse too, because that seems the sort of thing that would happen.

Okay, running through available options here: do not introduce this man to anything dangerous, the point is to stop him from drinking himself to death. So, no dramatic effigy burning or the like. Also, no rubbing salt in the wound about anything space related, that's just mean. Water send-offs don't make sense, can't send him to where she died for fear of getting him in trouble with the government, what is suitably spiritual and harmless and will give this guy a measure of peace..?

"But a person's not just the stuff they own or the body they inhabited. My people believe there's something - more." Which is true. They do. "And that with the proper materials and care, you can make a talisman to carry a bit of their themness with you, wherever you go. Keep it safe from the uncaring galaxy, bring them along with you, so even though they're not with you, with you, they get to see some things they missed. How you're doing, how the galaxy's changing - so on." He shrugs. "Send them off by moving on, living your life, but never really letting all of them go."

"Tha's," he chokes up. "Tha's really sweet." He's going to cry for a bit now.

"I think so," he agrees. "I can explain the ritual for the talisman to you, if you want it."

"Does it still work even 'f I don' go anywhere? 'Cause the damn Imps took m' ship when they came f'r Jinx."

"Of course it does. You could go run a moisture farm for the rest of your life and it'd still work."

And, yep. That's a guy that's useless to him, all right. Good call on the fabulous lies, Revan.

"M'kay. Wha' do I gotta do?"

Revan explains the procedure that he definitely did not make up right now, nope, not at all.

In this procedure that is not at all made up on the spot, the person takes an appropriate container (small, preferably, so it can easily be carried) and sit with it in a safe, secluded space. The container will be opened, and held by the person for the span of a galactic standard hour. During this hour, the person speaks of the deceased ("Crying is allowed and all but encouraged," assures Revan.) and of fond times spent together. Then, the person is to leave the container open for a galactic standard day, as the person in mourning carries it with them, though Revan informs him that it can be longer if he is worried that Jinx might be a bit lost. While the container is open, it's important to not overwhelm the essence with other, worldly senses. A mild fast is recommended, but not required; water and ration bars are traditional, though if the food is following the theme of not overwhelming the senses while still taking care of the person in mourning, or generally following the spirit of the matter, it is acceptable. Priority towards keeping the person in mourning safe and healthy over not overwhelming the senses, because the person is the anchor the spirit is tied to. Purposefully starving is not okay.

Then, after this period is done, the container is closed, and the person in mourning has their piece of the deceased. If the container is, for some reason, lost, the ritual may be conducted again, and the essence that was in the lost talisman will find its way to the new one. As such, while the talisman is still important, the most important thing for the holder to preserve is themselves, as they can make a new talisman for the deceased.

There. That is acceptably safe, while also likely to sober this guy up a bit, without putting him on a crazy quest to keep the talisman safe at all costs. Revan is mildly proud of himself, not that he'll show it right now, when he's all somber explanations and ritual explanations.

Sniff. "Okay.I can do that." Determined look. "I'm gonna go do that. Right now."

He stands (wobbily) and walks (unsteadily) out the door.

Revan nods, somber.

Well, that worked. He thinks he might need to get drunk now, though. Bah. He's not allowed to, he's not on a safe planet yet.

In lieu of ordering juma juice, he heads back to Ana and sits down.

"Hi, honey," he says.

"Hiiii." Would it be appropriate to hold his hand? Yes, that would definitely shore up their cover. Ana is going to hold his hand.

Revan smiles, amused and fond. Well, this was a good idea, he's already cheered up. And Ana's obviously happy. Wins all around, Revan's plan of lying fabulously has not backfired in any way, excellent. He hates it when it backfires.

"Hope you haven't been too lonely over here."

"I survived. I guess that guy wasn't who we were looking for?"

"Nope. But he needed someone to keep him from drinking himself to death, so." Revan shrugs. "Wasn't a waste of my time."

Smile.

"So what next?"

"I can try to make more friends, see if I have better luck, or we can see about finding a place to stay. Up to you."

"Find a place to stay? You think this will take long enough we'll need one?"

"It's certainly possible. Even if we find someone tonight, these things do sometimes take time."

"Oh." Ana does not relish the thought of spending multiple days in the Imperial capital. "I guess we should do that now, if we're going to. I can get back some of the deposit on the locker if we don't use the full time."

"All right." He squeezes her hand a little. "And, hey. It'll be okay."

"When you say it like that, I can believe it."

She's going to keep holding on to his hand while they go back to where they stored their things. To stay in character.

Of course. Revan is very understanding about these things. Staying in character: very important.

They are able to retrieve their belongings and the majority of their deposit with a minimum of fuss. The bundle is only slightly awkward to carry around as they look for a room to rent. Eventually, they find one in a district which is unlikely to be troubled by the appearance of Sith or military.

"We can afford, um, three days here, plus food."

"Oh, really? That's not bad, I thought it'd be a night and maybe dinner. We can work with that."

"It's one room, plus a 'fresher barely big enough to stand in. I'm assuming we don't actually want to spend any time in here aside from sleeping."

"Probably not. Though the refresher'll be nice, even if it's tiny."

"Yeah. So we go back to that cantina now?"

Revan considers that cantina versus others...

That cantina seems best, he thinks. Save the others for if they get into trouble with this one, have them less recognizable in places.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay."

Ana will hold hands again on the way back, now that they are no longer burdened by a suit of Sith armor.

Well, that's fine by Revan. Also: kind of cute. They should probably actually talk about, well, this, but honestly Revan doesn't really think now's the time. It's nice, they're in the middle of a crisis, they both have ample reason to freak out a bit, they are allowed to indulge in the hedonistic urges of holding hands.

How's the cantina look now?

More crowded. Livelier.

There's a band in the corner, playing a style of music he can recognize. Some things never change.

There are few things more comforting than familiarity. He can just sort of pretend that it is not three hundred years in the future and everyone he ever loved is probably dead, and he's just - himself. Trying to get off of this planet, like he's tried to get off of others with less resources and less of a plan.

Does anyone here look talkative and potentially helpful?

There's a man at the bar with a white, sparking drink talking starship maintenance with a droid that has a cup of something that is probably oil in front of it.

Wait, what, a droid is being served at a cantina? Revan's thrilled and surprised and how many other droids are in here he would like to know right now.

... Possibly so he can make an excuse about a pet project of his being repairing really old droids and insinuating himself into the conversation that way, but details. Droids being served! It's cool, Revan's really excited!

There don't seem to be any other droids here. Possibly they have a special relationship with the owner?

Possibly! Well, that's convenient. He can start figuring out how to make his entrance, then.

When there's a lull in conversation between the droid and the spacer, he retrieves the relevant parts of HK-47 from his jacket pocket and heads over.

"Excuse me," says Revan, addressing them both, "You seem to know a lot about starship maintenance, so I bet you've seen a lot of weird technology in your travels. Have either of you seen any sort of system that would be compatible with these old HK parts I found?"

"You... found HK parts?" The spacer raises an eyebrow.

"That is highly unlikely," says the droid. "The last known HK unit was destroyed more than two hundred years ago."

.... Revan might just have made a horrible, horrible mistake, but he might as well own it.

He displays the HK parts in question.

"Was it really? Wow, I didn't know they were so important. Might need to find a collector, then, sell them for credits." Over his dead body, but the character he's playing wouldn't feel so affectionate about some bits of tech. "Are these the real deal, or...?"

"One moment." The droid runs a scan. "...these are genuine, yes. Behavior module and memory core, HK-47 model."

The spacer whistles a low note and takes a sip of his drink. "Where'd you say you found those again?"

"I didn't. Some weird back-alley peddler said they were HK unit parts and I was curious and they weren't explosive or bugged, so I bought 'em. Apparently for a steal. Couldn't name the guy, but I could find you the street if you want it, but the guy's long gone I bet."

"Right, the old unlicensed street peddler." He clearly doesn't believe a word Revan is saying. "You'll want to be careful with them on Kaas, friend. The Imperials come down like hell on anyone they suspect of not paying the proper taxes."

Revan wasn't expecting that to be believed.

"Well if they show me the proper forms I will be perfectly happy to pay all of the required taxes," says Revan lightly. "But somehow I don't think they're the type. Thanks, I'll watch it, I'm a bit new to this planet." He crinkles his nose a bit. "I don't like it."

"Not many do. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Sure. I'd return the favor, but I'm a bit short on credits at the moment." He sits down!

The spacer beckons the bartender over.

"What brings you to this part of the galaxy?"

"In summary, a mix of bad luck and bad choices. There was a guy that was going to do some, uh, let's go with nasty stuff, I got it into my head that it was my job to stop him, didn't manage it, it ended badly until my wife," he points to Ana, "came and saved me..." He waves a hand. "Very dramatic, don't want to do it again. Maybe I'll take up farming."

"Must be nice, to have a wife that can bail you out like that. This bucket of bolts couldn't bail me out of a puddle."

The droid says something rude in an obscure Evocii dialect.

"I am a very lucky man," agrees Revan, a trace of fond. "But hey, so's anyone with a loyal companion."

"Some days I question that," says the droid.

The man glares.

"...Anyways, if you're all bailed out and you hate the place, what're you sticking around for?"

"No credits, and the Imperial travel requirements are - well, they are Imperial."

"That they are. We were planning on heading out tonight ourselves, but Customs decided there were 'irregularities with our manifest' and denied the flight plan."

"Ah, yes. I'm guessing they weren't specific about the irregularities and only give you the option to fix it and leave if you put your ship and its contents through several long days of inspection. And pay a fee."

"Same Bantha shit everywhere. You never get away from it."

"I'll drink to that," says Revan, raising his newly-acquired drink in toast before doing just as he said. "So, where are you from?"

"Coruscant, originally. Ain't been back in... how long's it been, Beady?"

"Twenty-six point three seven years standard."

"Long time away, but I've always thought that home's where you make it."

"Nothin' I need but a fast hyperdrive and a good pair of sublights."

"And someone to make sure you don't damage them beyond repair."

Revan laughs. "Old grievances, I'm guessing?"

He places a hand on his chest and adopts an air of aggrieved innocence. "It's not my fault. Manufacturer defect."

"You exceeded specifications by two hundred seventeen percent."

"Ah-huh. As a neutral party here, I think I'll stay neutral, and in lieu of saying anything..." Drink sip, smiiile.

"Thank you for your support," the droid says gravely.

Revan grins and winks.

"So," he says, "any idea how long it'll be before you're allowed to leave?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, if we're lucky." He levels a finger at Revan. "But we don't give free rides. No matter how much we like you. It's bad for business."

"Was I that obvious? All right, fair enough," agrees Revan, smiling. He gets the impression that saying that the jedi council would probably pay after the transportation would get exactly nowhere. For one, anyone could say that, and displaying proof of being Force-sensitive in a crowded cantina is a terrible idea, though less terrible than walking up to the nearest Sith and turning himself in. For another, while he likes these two, putting people in a situation where they have a choice between a large reward later after a high risk, and having a large reward now for turning a pair of fugitives in... Well, not everyone reacts well to that.

"Is advice free, though?"

"Depends on what sort of advice you're after."

"Also fair. I'm just - wondering about my options, is all. Seems the only way off the planet is through the bureaucracy, which takes ages. Is there - I don't know, some kind of list I can get on to streamline it...?"

"No official list. Unofficially... Any way you slice it, you're going to need some creds."

Nod. "Any estimation on how many?"

"Passage for you plus her, smart quick and no questions asked? You're desperate and people can see it. Ten thou, easy. I'd do it for seven and a half, but I like you."

"Thanks," says Revan warmly. "I appreciate it."

He considers all of the resources he has available as trade - language skills mean nothing to a man whose partner's a droid that speaks obscure dialects, his galactic experience is long past its expiration date, the only information he's got is highly dangerous to give out or could be learned soon enough when someone notices the Emperor's stopped calling people, the best he's got to trade is a shuttle location, maybe a speeder, and literally the parts of HK-47 that matter, which is not happening ever. He recalls times in the past when he earned his place by playing engineer and repairing ships, but - that's just not viable, here. He was always more of a programmer than an engineer, and even that's past its expiration date, too. Playing at being an enforcer wouldn't work, being obviously a Force-sensitive would attract too much attention, and he was always a terrible shot with a blaster, even when he was brainwashed to think he'd never been a jedi. He could do odd jobs for money, but that could take too long, and the longer they spent here the more likely the Imperials would start looking for the people that assassinated their Emperor.

Clearly, he has to think outside of the box. Now, who could get him past a Sith blockade?

Well when he phrases it like that, it's easy.

"What's your name?" he asks.

"Call me Cav. This is B3-DD2."

"Pleasure to meet you." He has a few names that he's used, over the years. More names that he got handed. He'll pick one that he doesn't find horribly offensive. Revan wouldn't do, after all.

"I'm Vales."

"Well, Vales, I can put out a few feelers for you, but like I said..."

"Yeah, no guarantees. I'd appreciate any help you could offer, anyway."

"Sure, sure. Now, about those HK parts..."

"What about 'em?"

"I understand you can't point me directly at your 'supplier', but, speaking strictly hypothetically of course, if I myself was in the market for some antiques of that nature..."

Oh, good, he isn't asking to buy them, that would be awkward to explain away. Revan smiles a little.

"I'm not sure there are any other HK parts available, but I got the impression he got it near Dromund Kaas, but not on the planet. Space station, or a nearby ship, maybe."

"All right, fair enough."

"Wish I could tell you more, sorry." Maybe if I meet you two again after we get off of Dromund Kaas...

Ana seems two have some visitors at her table, a few muscular dockworker types.

....

Revan notices and immediately looks subtly protective. Might be nothing, everything's probably fine, but also if they are giving her trouble he will toss them out of this bar himself if he has to pretend he actually has any physical strength with the Force or not.

Are they giving her any trouble?

They seem to be crowding her a bit.

She makes eye contact with Revan and tries to signal him over.

"'Scuse me, I have a that to deal with, nice talking to you both, hope you're free to get off this rock soon, thanks for your help, something something if I punch someone they deserve it."

And up he gets and Ana-ward he goes.

She snakes her arms around his neck and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi, honey, I was just telling these guys about you."

Said guys do not look too happy with his sudden appearance.

"Oh? Well I do so love meeting new people," says Revan, embracing her with only a little hint of protectiveness. Revan debates the pros and cons of dipping her and kissing her right now just to get these idiots to back off, and decides against it, because actually that's really not a great reason to do that and it would probably really surprise her.

"Hello! I'm Vales, her husband, pleasure to meet you."

Various grunts.

"Shouldn't leave your wife alone in a place like this. People might get the wrong idea."

"My wife," says Revan tartly, "is quite capable of taking care of herself, and does not need me to hover around her at all times."

Not that he's not tempted, the embrace is definitely just a little bit tighter and a trace more protective.

"Mmm." They look disgruntled, but leave nonetheless.

"Thanks. They would just not take a hint."

"Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't see them sooner, I could have scared them away earlier."

"Any luck with those two you were talking with?"

"Some!" He gives a cursory glance around the cantina for if it will give up anyone as promising as those two, decides that nope, and then adds, "Want to hear about it back at our room?"

"Sounds good."

She disentangles a bit so they can walk out.

Bah, disentangling. Very annoying. Hand holding will just have to make up for it.

To the tiny room!

Hand holding!

Room that is uncomfortably small!

Once the door to it is closed, Revan speaks in a soft voice that won't carry to other rooms.

"So the two I were talking to were smugglers. While they liked me, they wouldn't smuggle us for free, and we don't have the credits to pay them. However, I uh - had an idea."

"Yeah?"

"Well, I think we could find us a Sith to terrify into submission to help us get off Dromund Kaas, if we're sneaky and careful."

"I like it."

He smiles.

"I do think we should start that tomorrow, just so we're not tired when trying to find the best sith to bully into submission."

"Okay."

The pullout bed, when pulled out, takes up most of the room. Even so, it is somewhat on the small side.

"Cuddling, or should we fight over who sleeps on the floor crammed in a corner?" asks Revan, eyeing the bed

"As long as you don't have cold feet, I think I'd rather not sleep on the floor."

"If my feet are cold I will keep them away from you. ... Unless I'm feeling like a shit, but anyway. Same, cuddling it is."

"I'm gonna go wash up, then."

"All right." He sits on the bed and starts removing his shoes.

"Good news. Don't have to go anywhere for a shoe box, it's right here," he says lightly, dropping one into a corner.

Hee hee.

Ana steps into the 'fresher, and emerges several minutes later squeaky clean and in her underclothes. Sleep time now.

Revan removes several layers of clothing and then: yes, it is sleep time.

He doesn't mind physical contact, but he'll let her set the tone for how exactly they'll be sleeping together. Back to back doesn't take up much room, conserves heat, and is quite chaste, but with their whatever-it-is, something else might be better.

They start off back to back, but over the course of the night Ana winds up draping more of herself across him.

Revan would comment on this if he were awake, but during this change he's asleep. So he can only comment in the morning after he wakes up with his new status as Designated Pillow.

He snorts a bit and readjusts to a better angle of pillowhood and dozes back off.

Mmmrrffff no pillows shouldn't move. Stop that, pillow.

Zzzzzzzzz.

The pillow is too busy sleeping to accept this criticism. And besides, he would have lost circulation.

No excuses!

When Ana wakes up for real, she jerks a bit, then tries to disentangle herself gently.

This causes Revan to wake up enough to open an eye and peer at her.

"Good morning," he says.

"Mmmorning."

Streeeeetch.

Yaaawn.

"This bed," declares Revan, "is maybe the third most uncomfortable actual bed I've slept on. Boo, bed, do better. Go for sixth place or something."

"It's not so bad. You just need a good pillow."

Ana pats the helpful pillow.

He snorts, amused.

"I was serving as the pillow," he points out. "There was no one else present to be my pillow."

"~That's not my problem!~"

Ana starts getting dressed.

Revan laughs. "No, I suppose it isn't."

Clothes! Shoes! All parts of also getting dressed!

"So what's the plan for today? Back to the spaceport, look for a Sith ship?"

"Unless there's an obvious way to research Sith to find the best one to steal from?"

"I don't think there's, like, a directory or anything, no."

"Eh, Sith hangar it is then."

To the spaceport!

"Okay, I need ten minutes with a terminal here."

"All right. Let's see if we can find you a good one."

After some searching, they find one in an appropriate corner.

"Right, this'll work. Um. Try not to let anyone see the screen?"

"Of course."

He will be the most subtle of guard dogs. Like a kath hound, but with subtlety.

And what a helpful kath hound he makes.

Slicing, slicing. Ana wishes T7 hadn't been destroyed when the Guard blew up their ship, he was so much better at this. But she did pick up a few tricks, and the spaceport's full directory soon lies open before her. Let's see... who's a Sith that has a ship here right now and looks bully-able?

She narrows down the list to a couple of possibles, then calls Revan over. "Any sense about which of these?"

Revan looks at the list, hums thoughtfully, then points.

"That one," he says, "is the only apprentice of the Dark Council member, but doesn't trail her master, and hasn't gotten into many fights with other Sith. Which means she'll probably be inexperienced while still able to answer our questions."

"Okay. She's in... LD-A3. That's this way."

Ana sets a spike that will erase all record of the last ten minutes from the terminal, and sets off.

Off they go!

The hangar contains a sleek, state-of-the-art beauty of a ship, devoid of guards.

"Oh, wow. That is a nice ship. I would like to have that ship."

"No kidding," whistles Revan. "The lack of guards makes me - nervous, though. Think the Sith coasts by on her master's reputation, or...?"

"Probably not something we can just assume.."

Danger sense, go!

The Sith is in her ship, eating some kind of cereal. She doesn't feel particularly dangerous, and neither does her small crew.

"...Apparently the Sith is on board? Not a big crew, if we can get inside quietly we might be able to take them."

"Huh. Wouldn't have pegged that presence for a Sith, but - yes, let's go."

"Well, you know. Force user, Imperial capital, Sith ship. Odds are against there being three of us here at once."

Up to the the airlock. What kind of security does it have?

Pretty good security, actually. The door looks impossible to slice, except with a lightsaber.

...

And then the door opens.

"Uh. Would you believe me if I said we were room service?"

Ana can have her sabers out in less than an eyeblink.

The Sith Lord on the other side of the airlock looks rather like she couldn't have her sabers out in less than an eyeblink. She's busy eating cereal. Completely unconcerned with the two of them.

"Not particularly, no. Hello."

"Hi. Uh. Can we borrow your ship?"

The Sith Lord looks at him. She has another bite of cereal, and she thinks about it.

"No."