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Alek paced around the holoprojector gesticulated wildly, frustration evident in every movement. Revan, by contrast, stood with a stoic stillness, perfectly composed, despite the disheveled appearance of the man in front of him. Revan finally cocked his head, looking up towards his friend, finally speaking.
“You act as though you know what’s at stake.”
“I do! And despite how you act sometimes, people can have differing opinions! What you’re suggesting- we haven’t garnered enough power yet, even with the soul forge, or our new force prowess. We need more time. We need more people, because to be quite frank, we have nowhere near enough for a full assault force, especially on a shipyard. We’re risking too much, relying on surprise.”
Revan could feel himself shifting from the pragmatic apathy he held during Alek’s entire rant to frustration, which then escalated into a rage.
He has no idea what this is even for- he doesn’t even remember Dromund Kaas and yet he thinks he can-
Alek let out a breath, his voice quieting, shifting his gaze to meet where Revan’s eyes would be under the mask. “So yes, I do know what’s at stake.”
HE DOESN’T EVEN REMEMBER AND YET HE THINKS HE CAN TELL ME-
“You have no idea.”
Revan could feel himself unconsciously moving forward until he was right in front of Alek. His voice empty, his eyes cold, and frustration evident in his tone, he met his gaze. “Time is of the essence. We have surprise on our side. I am your superior so I must implore you to quit questioning me.”
“No. What do you mean by time is of the essence? What is that makes doing this now so important? Why don’t you tell me an-”
“ENOUGH!”
Revan felt the hilt of his lightsaber hit his hand.
“NO! You aren’t listening to me!”
For a brief second coldness and emptiness gave way to the burning fury of rage. And with the fire he lunged, lightsaber in his hand, activating the weapon more out of instinct, no thoughts running through his mind aside from that burning rage as he darted forward and-
A twisted gasp of pain. Knees hitting the floor. Revan blinked slowly, barely scrounging enough dignity to turn his stumble backwards into steps, the backs of his legs hitting the holotable.
Isn’t it funny, he thinks near hysterically, how much posture can affect how someone is perceived? At 6’5’’ Alek made an imposing figure, and yet, he looked so small, curled up on his knees, his hands trembling as he grasped at the remains of his jaw. His already pale skin looked white and clammy.
Pain. Horror. An acute sense of betrayal. Emotions ran through their force bond, overwhelming for a minute until Revan snapped the bond shut, leaving behind only a war between the drowning guilt and frigid sensation of apathy.
Revan wanted to gag. After all they’ve done, everything they’ve been through together. Revan knew he was never one for rash action, in fact that was far more Alek’s domain and yet he still went through with it. He opened his mouth, apologies rushing to the tip of his tongue, ready to grovel for his forgiveness, but the only thing that made it passed his lips was-
“Pitiful.”
Revan crossed his arms, his mask hiding his own visage. He straightened, finding it horrifyingly easy to act calm in the face of calamity, and for a second as disgust of his own jadedness rose. Breathing in, ignoring Alek’s frantic, laborious breaths, he pushed all of his disgust back down. He didn’t have time to doubt, or question himself, and he certainly didn’t have to deal with others doing the same. In the same breath, he locked away his guilt. He was in too deep to take it back now- the only path now was forward.
Alek was shaking like a leaf, arms wrapped around his midsection in an attempt of self-comfort, as his ragged breaths echoed throughout the room, panic evident. Revan looked down, composed.
“Look at me.”
Revan bent down on one knee, his masked face level with Alek’s. Wide blue eyes, burning with shock and betrayal stared back at him. His ragged breaths continued as Revan briefly examined the damage done to Alek’s jaw. He reached out a hand, gently running his fingers along the bloodless wound, despite Alek’s initial flinch backwards. His grip tightened, and with his voice tight with the last echoes of quiet rage, spoke,
“Don’t ever question me again.”
And with that, he straightened, pivoting on his heel, striding towards the room’s exit. Blue eyes shifted into yellow as betrayal shifted into rage. Alek staggered to his feet, a hand reaching towards his own lightsaber, before a wave of pain caused him to nearly black out, and he landed back on his knees, staring at Revan’s retreating figure.
The door clicked quietly, as Revan exited, not even looking back.
He walked briskly, as he approached the main deck of the ship, arms once again crossed, as he approached Admiral Karath, who responded with a crisp salute. Giving a nod in response, Revan leaned forward, with his voice low as he spoke, “As of late, Malak has been overstepping the bounds on his authority, so I was required to deal with it.”
“Do you wish him gone for good, sir?”
Revan leaned back, chin tilted up as he faced the admiral, his voice near monotone. “It has already been dealt with. He will not act out again. All that is required is for you to handle medical aid, perhaps the construction of a prosthesis.” Ignoring the admiral's questioning glance, he continued. “Proceed with the plan as directed.”
Taking Revan’s words as permission, Karath strode towards the center of the deck, his voice loud and clear as he issued orders. In the midst of issuing orders to get the ship moving, he glanced back at Revan, his question clear. Do you want to tell them or should I?
With that, Revan scrounged up the last bits of his charismatic persona, and pasting a grin on his face despite the fact was hidden, spoke.
“Men, prepare for hyperspace. We strike Furos Shipyards on Zhellday.”