Star Wars: The Old Republic: Revan by Drew Karpyshyn

two or three times a week now, instead of every night. Revan didn’t know if this was because his subconscious was gaining more control over the repressed memory, or if it had something to do with the fact that he was taking steps to investigate his vision. Whatever the explanation, over the past week he had finally been able to grab a few nights of fitful rest. It wasn’t enough to get rid of the dark circles under his eyes, but he no longer felt utterly exhausted.
    “Tell me what you found,” he said.
    “I didn’t learn anything about a planet covered in storms and eternal night. But I did dig up something you might be interested in.”
    The astromech droid at Revan’s feet beeped twice. It was obvious even to him that Canderous was hesitant to speak.
    “I hope you’re not waiting for me to try to buy this information from you,” Revan joked. “I left most of my credits at home.”
    Canderous shifted uncomfortably, then leaned forward to speak in a low whisper. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, you being a Jedi and all, but I think you have a right to know.”
    “If you’re worried I’ll go running to the Council with your secret, don’t be.”
    “It’s not just them. You can’t tell the Galactic Senate, either.”
    “Whatever you’ve got to say must be pretty bad,” Revan remarked.
    “Depends on your point of view.”
    The big man leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. Revan stayed silent, giving his friend time to gather himself.
    “I got in contact with some of my people, just like you asked,” Canderous said finally. “I found out that dozens of the strongest chiefs are gathering their clans at Rekkiad.”
    Revan recognized the name. Located in the Outer Rim system of the same name, Rekkiad was a virtually uninhabited world of ice and snow.
    “They’re planning another invasion,” he guessed, assuming that was why Canderous was worried about the Jedi or the Republic finding out.
    “No, they’re not,” Canderous assured him. “Not yet, at least. They’re searching for Mandalore’s Mask. They think you hid it somewhere on Rekkiad.”
    An image flickered through Revan’s mind: he and Malak standing on the top of a glacier, surrounded by a swirling blizzard. It vanished before he could grasp it, retreating into the dark corners of his subconscious. Yet the brief flash of the resurfacing memory was enough to confirm what Canderous had said.
    “I think they may be right,” Revan muttered.
    Canderous was silent, obviously expecting him to say more. But there wasn’t anything he could add. The memory was gone.
    “You know what the Mask means to my people,” Canderous said. “Without it we are lost, vagabonds wandering the galaxy without a purpose. Recovering the Mask could be the key to restoring Mandalorian honor—and power.”
    Revan knew all this. That was why he had hidden the Mask after slaying Mandalore the Ultimate—a final act to demoralize a defeated foe. He’d hoped it would take the Mandalorians generations to recover from the loss of their most revered cultural symbol. Without it, the war-like clans would be too busy fighting among themselves for power to even think about conquering Republic worlds. But if the Mask were to be found again …
    “Whoever finds it will be hailed as the new leader of the clans,” Canderous continued. “Mandalore will rise again, and the Mandalorians will follow.”
    Revan knew that Canderous was sharing this knowledge with him out of loyalty. They had been through too many battles together for him to keep this secret. Yet he also understood why Canderous had been reluctant to speak. He was still a Mandalorian, and he feared for the future of his people.
    The wounds of the Mandalorian Wars were still fresh in the minds of the Jedi and the Republic. The looming specter of a Mandalorian army unified by a single war-like leader would not be ignored. Even if the Jedi Council refused to take action again, the Senate would