[Short Fics] Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic - The Untold Tales

[The Doctor]

Ok, so I lied. I came back much earlier than I planned. But I've just missed this place so much more than I thought I would, I just couldn't stay away any longer.

 

So, here it is: the story I promised to bring with me upon my return. Again, not what I led people to believe, but then, I really don't care what people expected.

 

Some of you may have read my Shorts a while back that filled in the gaps in the KotOR storyline - just little tidbits that were touched upon in the game, but never explained in-depth. I took it upon myself to fill those gaps, and they were fairly well received. This thread will serve as the hub for these shorts, which I will henceforth continue to write until I run out of ideas - at which time I will poll you guys for ideas to leech off of.

 

I'll be re-posting my past Shorts in this thread as well, revised and re-written to meet the criticism they received upon their first posting. I'll start posting them soon, so keep an eye on this thread!

 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

 

1. Misplaced Trust

Listen in on the conversation described by Carth Onasi, where his old mentor attempted to recruit him into the Sith fleet.

 

2. Ease of Darkness

Witness the fall of Juhani before her encounter with Revan in the Grove of Dantooine. Contains graphic depictions of intense violence. Reader discretion is advised.

 

3. Historical Revalation

Feel the emotional storm within the Sith Lord Malak as he learns of his old master's survival.

 

4. Shattered Love, Shattered Faith

Hear the story of Jolee Bindo's terrible loss, and his fall to misery after the Masters he so revered fail him.

 

5. Rule Number One

Read the story of the famous Bastila Shan losing her lightsaber after her crash onto the planet Taris.

 

6. Mission Across Space

Dive into the life of Mission Vao as she and her brother are forced to flee their home and everything they know.

 

7. Ponderings

Watch as Bastila Shan begins to question her beliefs and her faith in not only herself, but the very Force itself.

[The Doctor]

Misplaced Trust

 

Friendship is a precarious thing. It can be a glorious, miraculous, amazingly wonderful thing, yes - but also dangerous beyond imagining. Even the best of friends can be torn apart by a single idea or event - and trust cannot be given lightly, or you will find yourself with a new friend: betrayal.

 

Trust is the most important aspect of a friendship. If one does not trust a friend, then they are not truly a friend. We must be constantly cautious about whom we give our trust to - but not the extent of paranoia or mistrust. These things will destroy a friendship just as fast as betrayal - indeed, they are a form of betrayal in and of themselves.

 

This story is meant not only to fill in a gap in the Knights of the Old Republic story, but also to show how easily a friendship can be destroyed. But the way of thinking the main character adopts in his future - paranoia and outright mistrust - are a firm example of what we must strive to avoid. Even if we experience similar betrayals in our lives, we must not fall victim to his way of thinking, or we will find it very difficult to gain the trust of others ourselves.

 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

 

The rocket soared over the heads of the crowd gathered below, the children laughing and running around the legs of the adults, completely oblivious to the shower of sparks unleashed as the fireworks began. Soldiers were discharging blank shots into the crown in celebration of the victory.

 

“It's been a long time since we've had something to celebrate,” said Lieutenant Commander Carth Onasi, looking out at the crowd below from the twentieth floor apartment he had been given the use of until a ship arrived to take him home.

 

Saul Karath raised his glass of ale, and Carth gently touched his own glass to it. “Almost six years,” agreed Saul. “Six long... painful years.”

 

“Would have been longer, if it weren't for Revan,” said Carth, stepping into the apartment from the balcony. “If it weren't for him and his Jedi, we would have lost a lot more people, a lot faster.”

 

“Indeed....” said Saul, coming inside behind Carth. “Those Jedi pulled my six out of trouble more times than I'd care to admit while sober.”

 

Carth smiled and poured himself another ale, emptying the bottle. “Well, at this rate, sobriety won't be a problem.”

 

Saul laughed as Carth turned back to the window to watch the celebrations below. “I can't wait to get back to Telos,” said Carth quietly, his voice practically quivering with excitement. “I haven't seen them in... my God. It’s been six months now. Time flies when you're... well... you know.”

 

Saul nodded grimly. “The War may be over, but the Mandalorian threat will live on in the hearts and minds of the People. The terrors of this war will be remembered for generations to come.”

 

“I don't know about that,” said Carth, frowning. “I think the People are stronger than you're giving them credit for. Sure, we may still be licking our wounds for a few years - both economically and psychologically - but I think in a few years, things will be back to normal.”

 

“Oh, come on, Carth,” spat Saul, turning around to face the room. “The Mandalorians lost this war by default. They still have higher morale, stronger soldiers, and more experienced commanders. If they had the resources - the ships - to fight on, they'd continue this war until the Republic collapsed, as it very nearly did.”

 

Carth arched an eyebrow. “You're not giving us - or yourself - the credit we deserve. The Mandalorians surrendered. Unconditionally. The Republic-”

 

“The Republic is dying, Carth,” said Saul quietly. “It's been dying since before the Mandalorians. Before Exar Kun. For decades, we’ve been fighting one long war... a war to stay afloat while the galaxy collapses in on us.”

 

“Now, that's the ale talking,” said Carth darkly. “The Republic may be damaged, but it's far from dying. Now that the Mandalorians are gone, the galaxy will be at peace for centuries to come.”

 

“Oh, if only that were true...”

 

“And what makes you think it's not?”

 

Saul was quiet for a moment. He turned back to the window and stared out at the people below. “You see them out there, Carth? All of them laughing, and dancing, and singing... they think they've won. They think that the Republic can protect them from anything. They're wrong. The Republic has no fight left in it, my friend.”

 

Carth shook his head. Saul turned back from the window, and headed towards the bar. He pulled out a fresh bottle of alcohol and filled his glass with it.

 

“What is that?” asked Carth, wrinkling his nose as a pungent odour floated towards him from the glass.

 

Saul looked at the bottle, extending it to arms length, the better to see it in his half drunken state. “Well, it's uhm...” he said, turning it around in his hand. “It's, uh... it's green,” he decided.

 

He downed the liquid, and placed his glass on the bar. “Tell me Carth...” he said slowly, his words slightly slurred. “Are you happy?”

 

Carth chuckled. “Of course. Aren't we all?”

 

Saul laughed softly. “Not quite. I know I have no reason to be unhappy, but... there's something... wrong. With the Jedi, mainly. We almost lost this war because they refused to come to our aid.”

 

“Revan came.”

 

“Yes...” said Saul, smiling darkly. “I have nothing against him and his people.” He turned to face Carth. “But they're not Jedi. They're so much better than Jedi. They're heros. Saviours. We owe them our lives, Carth.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“What do you mean, 'maybe'?” spat Saul, advancing. “If it weren't for Revan, we would have lost this war months ago! We'd be sitting in Mandalorian slave camps, and Dustil would be in basic combat training, learning to speak Mandalorian!”

 

“Dammit, Saul! I'm not denying what Revan and Malak did for us! But we don't owe them anything! They did what they felt... no, what they knew was right! We don't owe them anything except respect and thanks!”

 

“They saved your son from a life of war and slavery!”

 

“No! We did!”

 

Saul spun around and threw his glass at the wall. He leaned against the bar, his breathing heavy. When he turned to face Carth, his eyes were sunken, and there were bags under them. It suddenly struck Carth that Saul wasn't a young man. He always knew that Saul was getting up in years, but he had never though of him as an old man. Indeed, he had always looked up to Saul - strived to be just like him.

 

“I am no longer a young man, Carth,” said Saul, as if he were reading Carth's mind - it wasn't the first time Saul had seemed to be somewhat Force sensitive. “I can't fight for the Republic anymore. But I'm doomed to do so again, and again. The Republic will never be at peace. It's hold on the galaxy is weakening. The Mandalorians were proof of that. It can't stand much longer.”

 

Carth turned away from him. The sun had completely set now, but the crowd below illuminated the landscape with glowstaffs and flashing propaganda signs, with messages on them such as Democracy Forever and Mandalorians are Scum - cheap, corny signs, most likely churned out by the relentless Czerka corporation, taking advantage of the war to make a little extra money. Fireworks still lit up the sky at random - the official display had ended, and now it was up to the crowd to keep the party going. They seemed to be doing a good job of it, too.

 

“Carth, you're more than my subordinate officer. You're my friend. In fact... I've... sometimes thought of you as... something of a son, on occasion. Pity, I... never had time for a family.”

 

“Pity,” said Carth shortly.

 

“I'm sorry, Carth, I just... I feel like I need to explain myself to you - justify myself, somehow.”

 

“What are you talking about?” asked Carth, spinning to face his mentor.

Saul hesitated. “Revan has come to me... he's promoted me. He's made me Captain of the Leviathan.”

 

“Why would he promote you? He's-”

 

”He's asked the Senate for a prolonged period of command,” explained Saul. “He's asked for permission to take his fleet into unknown space to find the remnants of the Mandalorian fleet.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” asked Carth, after a moment's silence.

 

Saul hesitated again. “I want to save you, Carth.”

 

“Save me? What in the name of-”

 

”Carth, please. Come with me. I want you as my first officer on the Leviathan.”

 

“Saul, I... I can't. First off... I'm not in Revan's fleet. I'm not under his command - or your's. I'm in Hicks' fleet. Second, I can't leave Republic space to chase the Mandalorians! My wife and son have been waiting to see me for six months! I can't just...”

 

He trailed off into silence, turning back to the window. There was something odd about Saul's request - like there was something he wasn't being told. He didn't like it. “I can't, Saul. I'm sorry.”

 

Saul sighed. “I understand.”

 

They sat in silence for a long time. The hours stretched on, until the sky began to lighten and the crowd began to thin, and they sat in silence, Saul occasionally sipping at his glass, which he refilled three more times.

 

“It's almost dawn,” said Saul, glancing at the chronometer on the other side of the room. “I should return to the Leviathan. She's joining the rest of Revan's fleet in six hours. I want to get her prepped.”

 

Carth stood as well. “Alright. I'm sorry, Saul.”

 

Saul smiled sadly. “So am I.”

 

He turned to the door. As he keyed it open, he turned on the threshold. “Carth?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

He smiled again, this one slightly more affectionate. “Tell Dustil that uncle Saul says hello.”

 

Carth returned his smile warmly. “I will. Take care.”

 

“You too. Goodnight, Carth.”

 

“G’night.”

[Jae Onasi]

*Jae does a happy dance*

 

One of my favorites that you've written.

[The Doctor]

One of my favourites, too, actually. I've just always loved Carth, for some reason. He was an incredibly well written character, in my opinion. He had an in-depth history, and he was just so... human, if you know what I mean.

 

Should be posting Ease of Darkness soon, as well.

[JasraLantill]

Wow! Good stuff, Doc! I liked how you captured Saul's character--makes the scene in the game all the more angsty. Looking forward to the follow up!

[The Doctor]

WARNING - THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF INTENSE VIOLENCE. THE READER IS URGED TO PRESS THE ‘BACK’ BUTTON ON THEIR INTERNET BROWSER NOW IF THEY ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH SUCH SUBJECT MATTER.

 

Ease of Darkness

 

The lure of evil is often difficult to resist. While there have been very few truly evil people in history, there are many - literally millions - of people who one could argue have approached evil through actions driven by jealousy, anger, hatred, and the like. If we allow ourselves to be dominated by our darker emotions, we will quickly earn the dislike of others. This is not an easy lesson to learn, but a very important one all the same.

 

This story is again meant to fill in a small gap in the Knights of the Old Republic story. However, it is also meant to show that while we may believe we could never turn to ‘evil’ - that we can prevent ourselves from giving in to our darker emotions and instincts - the opposite is far closer to the truth. It is quite easy to fall to the lure of our darker side, and redemption is not always easy.

 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

 

Juhani forced Quatra’s lightsaber away from her, her muscles screaming protest. Quatra was strong, and it took all of her strength to force her Master back. She flipped over her Master’s head, landing behind her. She drove her lightsaber behind her towards Quatra’s back - only to meet her Master’s blue lightsaber blocking her own.

 

“Your form is sloppy!” criticized Quatra. “You’re still allowing your mind to wander! Concentrate!”

 

“I am concentrating!” hissed Juhani angrily. She hated it when Quatra spoke to her as if she were a child. She had come of age nearly a year ago, and was sick of being treated like a cub.

 

“Obviously not,” retorted the Master, deactivating her lightsaber, and using the Force to shut off Juhani’s. “Your mind is clouded by anger, apprentice. You must overcome your emotions, or you will never become a Jedi.”

 

Juhani threw her lightsaber across the room in frustration. “How am I supposed to ‘overcome my emotions’ while you constantly berate and belittle my performance?! That is not how a Master should treat her student!”

 

Quatra bristled. “You have no right to question the way I train my students, Juhani,” she said. “You are out of place.”

 

“Somebody has to say it! Mithj is afraid to say anything, and Kliun is only remaining quiet so as not to lose your favour!”

 

“Well I can assure you that you are not helping yourself gain my favour at the moment! You are constantly giving in to your emotions. You are allowing your anger to control you! That is a path to the Dark Side, Juhani!”

 

“If I am walking the path of the Dark Side, it is only because you have forced me down it. If it were not for you constantly insulting me, belittling me in front of the others, then I would not-”

 

“You cannot blame me for your inability to control yourself, Juhani,” spat Quatra, her eyes flaring. “There is no excuse for this.”

 

“You know full well that my Cathar blood-”

 

“And you know full well that I do not accept that simply because you have Cathar blood running through your veins means that you are unable to control your emotions! You are perfectly able to do so. You are unwilling to do so.”

 

Juhani screamed in frustration, turning from her Master.

 

“Control, padawan!”

 

Juhani closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and focussed her mind. “There is no emotion...”

 

“There is peace,” finished Quatra. Juhani had been hiding behind her Cathar blood for far too long. It was time to show her the dangerous path she had placed herself on.

 

Juhani was repeating what she had been taught since she was a little cub - when she was first brought to the Order. Quatra had known that training a Cathar in the ways of the Force would be difficult - their warrior nature was imprinted upon cubs from birth. Quatra had developed a unique adaptation of the Jedi Code just for Juhani.

 

“Emotion is the beginnings of composure. Composure is the mother of logic. Logic is the foundation of peace. Peace is the essence of clarity. Clarity is the basis of control. I am in control.”

 

“You are merely reciting the words,” snapped Quatra. “You are not listening to them.”

 

Juhani’s eyes flared open, and she growled again. “I have known these words ever since you taught them to me when I was a cub.”

 

“I know. And you no longer listen to them. You have forgotten what they mean. You’ve allowed them to become routine.”

 

“That is because you have made me do so!” she yelled, her anger flaring again. “You have forced me to recite those exact words every day for 13 years! You have made them routine, not me!”

 

“I was attempting to imprint them in your mind. Clearly you have not allowed them to sink in, or you would have been able to control your anger years back!”

 

Juhani was close to breaking point. She could feel it. She yearned to grab Quatra by the throat and throw her against the wall, tearing out her jugular with her fangs...

 

No! She yelled at herself. Anger is the path to the Dark Side! I will not become like the traitors Revan and Malak! I will not allow it!

 

“You are weak, Juhani,” said Quatra darkly. “You will never become a Jedi as long as you allow your emotions to weaken you. But you seem unable to control them. They control you. Perhaps...” she paused - for effect, more than anything. “Perhaps you are not fit to become a Jedi.”

 

Juhani felt something inside her snap. Her lifelong dream... Quatra was threatening her lifelong dream of becoming a Jedi. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

 

Anger flooded through her. She could feel it flow through her Cathar blood. The warrior inside her broke free from the prison Quatra had spent years tailoring. Her pupils became slits as her feline instincts kicked in. With a glorious leap into the air, she threw out her hand, and her lightsaber flew through the air and landed neatly in her palm. The blade ignited itself, humming darkly as she raised it above her head. She landed behind Quatra again, this time facing her. She kicked her Master in the small of the back. Caught off guard, Quatra went sprawling to the ground, her lightsaber sliding across the room. She kicked out, and her foot met the human’s face. She felt bones break. Quatra threw out her hand to bring her weapon back into reach, but Juhani stepped on her Master’s hand and put her weight down. Again, she heard the telltale crunch of bones as Quatra’s hand was disabled. The lightsaber hit her palm, but she was unable to clench her fist around it, and it rolled out of her hand again.

 

Juhani kicked her Master in the side, rolling her over. She reached out her hand, and the Force pulsed through her, lifting Quatra into the air, gasping for breath. She tore her claws across the terrified woman’s chest, revelling in the cries of pain and terror issuing from her Master’s bloody lips.

 

“Perhaps you are not fit to continue to be a Jedi,” she hissed, her fangs glinting in the light of her lightsaber. She brought her teeth down on Quatra’s throat, tearing a hole in her esophagus. She kicked out again, sending her victim flying against the wall next to the workbench. Wiping the blood from her mouth, she backed away, satisfied that her prey was dead. Her lightsaber still hummed darkly in her hand. She looked around the room, the adrenaline still pumping through her system. She glared at her lightsaber. The colour disgusted her. It was the same as Quatra’s. The thought sickened her. She continued her search of the room until she found what she was looking for - the red lightsaber crystal that Kliun had found the day before. She had been so proud when she had found it - her first lightsaber crystal apart from the one she had received from the Masters. Now it was Juhani’s.

 

She placed the crystal in her hilt, casting the blue one to the floor, where it rolled towards Quatra, resting at her former Master’s feet. She ignited her lightsaber, and revelled in the deep red light that fell across the shadowy corner the workbench sat in.

 

She had fallen. Perhaps Quatra had been right. She was not fit to be a Jedi. She was better than that. Her anger had made her strong - strong enough to defeat her own Master. Her power was limitless.

 

Her head was spinning. She needed to meditate. But she couldn’t, here in the Enclave. It was only a matter of time before someone - most likely that pestilential windbag Vrook - found Quatra’s body. But she knew a place where she could go. Somewhere she would not be disturbed. Turning away from the workbench, she stepped over the motionless form of her ex-Master, and walked out the door. She met nobody as she walked through the Enclave towards the courtyard. She slashed open the droid that stood guard at the exit, and sliced open the access panel that opened it. The magnetic seal was broken, and the door slid open. Her lightsaber still active, she stepped into the night, leaving the Jedi behind her forever.

 

 

Back in the Enclave, Master Zhar awoke suddenly. The Dark Side had penetrated the academy. Jumping out of bed, he grabbed his lightsaber from the bedside table, and stepped into the hallway. He felt a tremor in the Force, building slowly. The training room. Quatra. Breaking into a run, he headed towards the training room, completely oblivious to the looks of curiosity from confused students as they poked their heads out of the dormitories.

 

He entered the training room to find Quatra on the floor, her breathing coming in gasps, a bloody whole slashed in her throat. Zhar fell to his knees beside her as the presence of the Dark Side threatened to overwhelm him. He looked down at Quatra, who was struggling to maintain eye contact with him.

 

“What have you done?” he asked, knowing full well that she had no way of responding.

[The Doctor]

Historical Revelation

 

People forget. It’s in out nature. We can’t remember everything. Forgetting things is inevitable. But history forgets nothing. We cannot escape our past, no matter how hard we try. Everything we do and say is recorded by Time, never to be forgotten. Sometimes, our actions can be so great or so terrible that our names are recorded by others in tribute - or in warning - of our actions.

 

You cannot run from your past, even if you are not aware of it. You can evade it for a while. You might even be able to hide from it until after you die. But eventually, your secrets will be discovered, and you or those you love will suffer - either from the horrible thought of what you have done, or under the tyrannus hand of guilt in having had a hand in your evil.

 

This is my third story meant to fill in a small gap in the Knights of the Old Republic story. However, I do realise that had this conversation been in the game, it would have revealed a major plot point far too soon - or at the very least, drawn suspicion and speculation, which would have led to the truth eventually. Learn from the history of the individual in question. You cannot run from your past. You shouldn’t even try. You must accept your past actions, even if you do not feel they were justified. This will go a long way to building your character, and may even save an entire galaxy...

 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

 

“Forgive me, Lord Malak...” muttered Saul Karath on the bridge of the Leviathan. “But there is more. May we speak in private - away from the ears of the common soldiers?”

 

Malak narrowed his eyes. “I trust you are not wasting my time, Admiral Karath?”

 

Saul smiled darkly. “I assure you that you will be most interested in what Calo has to say about Bastila’s other companions, my Lord Malak.”

 

“Very well,” said Malak, walking past Saul and the short little man he had brought with him - Calo Nord.

 

“You have the bridge, Commander,” said Saul as he passed his first officer, Commander Harn.

 

“Understood, Admiral,” he said, saluting.

 

 

They entered Saul’s office, Malak taking a position at the window - Saul had noticed that he enjoyed simply standing there, staring out into the endless vacuum of space. It would have been a fairly intriguing quality, had he not been so menacing with his height and composure.

 

Saul nodded to Calo, who cleared his throat to get Malak’s attention - clearly, he was nowhere near as afraid of the Sith Lord as Saul was.

 

“Before they took off,” he began. Cracking his knuckles - he had been doing it since he was a teenager, and it had become almost a need for him. To relieve the tension that was constantly building up inside him. He needed a vacation...

 

“I was able to see four individuals,” he continued. “One of them was of course Bastila. I would recognise a lightsaber anywhere.” His words drew his view to Malak’s own lightsaber, it’s extended hilt gleaming on the Dark Lord’s belt. “Onasi was with them, as well - I’ve seen his face so many times since the Mandalorian Wars... it’s disgusting, to be honest.”

 

Saul bristled somewhat at the attack on his friend, but remained silent. Luckily, Malak either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

 

“There was also a man with them known as Canderous Ordo. He’s a Mandalorian Merc Davik hired a few-”

 

“I am not interested in the bounty hunter scum Davik recruits,” spat Malak menacingly. “If this is what you drew me away from the bridge for...”

 

“No,” said Calo, smiling. Blunt and to the point. He liked Malak. He walked to the console on the desk, and pulled up the crew roster from the Endar Spire, a Republic ship that had been destroyed in orbit around the planet they now circled. Bastila’s ship. The information had been corrupted - most likely an imbedded virus designed to destroy the roster in the event of it falling into the hands of the enemy. There were very few names given, and even fewer of the entries were intact. Calo pulled up an unnamed soldier - a low ranking grunt, by the looks of it. The picture was still there, though it was distorted along one edge. Malak glanced at the picture, then returned his gaze to the window.

 

His head snapped back to the photo. He slowly took in the hair. The eyes. The toned physique he had seen in combat so many times that the images were burned into his memory.

 

“How... is this possible?”

 

“I don’t know,” said Calo. “But it’s unmistakeably him.”

 

Malak grabbed the side of the monitor and growled. “This cannot be... he’s dead! I killed him myself!”

 

“Respectfully, Mi’Lord: obviously not.”

 

He turned back to the window, his mind racing. He was alive! How was that possible? He had destroyed that ship himself. He had watched it burn. Watched the debris cascade across the shields of the ships surrounding it. They had scanned the debris. There had been no survivors! He had seen the readings himself!

 

But all that was irrelevant now. He had obviously been mistaken, somehow. He could not deny the information in front of him. His eyebrows were knitted in concentration. What was he going to do?

 

“Find him,” he hissed at Calo. “Find him, and bring him to me with Bastila. I want him alive.”

 

“Alive, Mi’Lord?” asked Saul, stunned. “Are you... are you sure that is wise?”

 

“I must know how he survived,” spat Malak. “Then I must kill him with my own hands, to ensure that he stays dead!”

 

“Understood, my Lord Malak.”

 

“I promise not to return until I have both him and Bastila in my custody," said Calo, bowing his head slightly.

 

“Good. Now go! You are wasting my time!”

 

Both Saul and Calo bowed, leaving Malak to his thoughts.

 

“Calo... be sure that you do everything you can to bring him back alive. Should you kill him yourself, Malak will be furious. There’s no telling what he might do if he is unable to kill Revan himself.”

 

“I get it,” snapped Calo. “You found me, so it’s your head if I fail.”

 

Saul gritted his teeth. “Indeed.”

 

“Don’t worry," he said, grinding his teeth. "I don’t plan on failing. I have a personal score to settle here. I won’t let them get away.”

 

 

Malak had buried himself in Saul’s console, doing all he could to learn more about how Revan had survived. He had managed to find the name he had used while aboard the Spire, and used it to dig through the database they had downloaded.

 

He played a personal log that had been recorded about a month ago.

 

“I’ve settled into [static] here on the Spire. The Jedi are working us like dogs. They keep mentioning a ‘Bastila’ when they give us our orders. I’ve never met this Bastila, but he must be a [static] live with. I’m not sure if-”

 

The rest of the log was irretrievable. Malak frowned. That was definitely Revan’s voice, but... how could he mistake Bastila to be a man? He had known her at the academy. They hadn’t exactly been friends, but they had at the very least known each other well enough to know how to push each other’s buttons.

 

He played another log, recorded a few days later.

 

“[static] Jedi. Ira, the Jedi in charge of my shift, said that [static] skills. I don’t think she was being completely honest, but... I’m certainly no Jedi, so I couldn’t tell you. I still haven’t met my bunkmate yet. I think he’s avoiding me. Probably worried about being bunked with a raw recruit. He’s already a full ensign, so I imagine he’s-”

 

Again, the end of the log was lost to the Republic virus. Malak’s frown deepened. “I’m certainly no Jedi?” What in the name of the Force was he talking about? He was a Sith!

 

No, he thought. Not anymore. He was working for the Republic now. He had rejected the power of the Dark Side. He may not be a Jedi, technically - it was hard to believe that the Order would accept him back - but he was still a powerful Force Sensitive. How could he not know whether someone was lying to him or not?

 

“[static] against the Sith. I haven’t had any combat experience whatsoever, and the Jedi assign me to the mission? Seems odd that they’d place a raw recruit like me on such a vital [static]”

 

Malak wasn’t surprised that this entry was destroyed. It mentioned an important Republic offensive, by the sounds of it. The virus was sure to have targeted it first of Revan’s logs.

 

But no combat experience? Why would he need to lie in his personal logs? Only he had access to them...

 

It clicked. The answer was so obvious, he was shocked he hadn’t realised it after the first log. He didn’t know. He didn’t remember the Mandalorian Wars. His training at the Academy. His rule as Sith Lord. The Jedi had done something to him. Torn down his true identity and buried it beneath that of a raw Republic recruit, fresh from training.

 

He would have smiled, had he still had a mouth with which to do so. Revan was not really a threat. Not unless his memories began to resurface - which they undoubtedly would, given time, but it gave him some breathing room for the time being.

 

He stood, and returned his gaze to the window. He activated the comm with a wave of his hand.

 

“Admiral, take us out of orbit. Lay in a course for the Star Forge.”

 

“Understood, Mi’Lord.”

 

Taris slowly moved out of his view. He gazed out at the stars for a moment, before they became nothing more than lines streaked past them, and then morphed into the deep blue hyperspace tunnel.

[The Doctor]

Only two more of them left before I start writing new ones! I've already started on two new ones, and I have a few more ideas in addition to that, but then I'll need some ideas, people!

 

I'll have Shattered Love, Shattered Faith and Rule Number One edited and posted soon. Then I'll be finishing up the new ones and posting them.

 

Stay tuned!

[The Doctor]

Shattered Love, Shattered Faith

 

Love is one of the most difficult human emotions to understand. There is no real trigger for it the same way there is for other emotions such as joy. When one falls in love, they are often unable to take their mind off the object of their affection, and it is difficult to change an individual’s feelings when they are experiencing real love. Other emotions, such as happiness, for example, can be countered with an act of cruelty or abuse, resulting in a rapid reversal of emotion. Love and Faith are closely related. If one has Faith in something or someone, it is very difficult to destroy that faith - much to the chagrin of those who do not share it.

 

It is difficult to destroy someone’s faith. Not impossible. When one’s faith is shattered, they often experience prolonged periods of suffering, and there is rarely anything anyone can do to help, much less restore the faith that was lost. When that love is used against us in order to shatter faith, it is even worse. But one never stops loving. Love is the only thing in this universe that is permanent. Even if faith in our family or friends is destroyed, we still love them - or they are not truly ‘loved ones’.

 

This is the story not told in Knights of the Old Republic about a loss of faith. There is no real lesson to be learned here. The individual in question did nothing wrong. He refused to allow his faith in the one he loved be shaken. The faith he had in himself, however, is forever lost - along with the woman he loved. To be rewarded for losing something he held dear to his heart was something he could not live with. He not only lost faith in himself, but in his peers. The story must be told.

 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

 

“I trust you know why we have summoned you here, Jolee?”

 

Jolee looked defiantly at Master Keltar, who was looking at him over steepled fingers, frowning. “I do,” he said softly.

 

Veln raised his head slightly as he spoke. “Explain to us what happened,” he said. “Explain to us how it is that Nayama came to be trained in the ways of the Force, and was hence able to kill many Jedi before she was finally stopped.”

 

Jolee took a deep breath. It was time to come clean. “I... trained her in the ways of the Force, Master. She was my student.”

 

The Council was silent. “Indeed,” muttered Keltar.

 

“Nayama was more than simply my friend and guest here, Master,” continued Jolee. If he was telling the truth, he may as well tell them the whole of it. “She was... my wife.”

 

The Masters straightened in their chairs at these words. Master Horuck glared at him with his cold green eyes, and Mistress Delar simply shook her head sadly.

 

“Marriage is forbidden to the Jedi,” she said darkly. “Love is a dangerous emotion, padawan.”

 

“Not as dangerous as you might think,” retorted Jolee sharply. “Love is empowering. Love-”

 

“This meeting was not called to debate the validity of the Jedi Code,” said Master Vandar. “It was called so that you might explain yourself, padawan Bindo. Perhaps explain to us why you disobeyed our instructions, and took her as your student regardless of our decision.”

 

“I trained her because it had to be done!” spat Jolee. “You were wrong to deny her training!”

 

“She is far too old,” hissed Delar, her grey eyes flashing dangerously.

 

“She is far too rash,” added Horuck. “As you have seen with your own eyes.”

 

“Tell us what transpired that night, Jolee,” said Master Raln, Jolee’s own Master, speaking for the first time. “Tell us how it is that she fell to the Dark Side and fled the Enclave.”

 

 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

 

Jolee sat facing Nayama, both of them in a deep meditative state. He could sense her thoughts as easily as if they were his own - she trusted him enough to allow him entrance to her mind while they meditated. He sensed something at the back of her mind, hiding away, but he ignored it. He could also sense that it was getting late - it was nearly dawn. The Enclave was completely silent, the other students still sleeping soundly, their minds closed to their surroundings, unaware of the lessons Jolee was conducting with his secret wife.

 

He reached out to her mind and gently lifted her from the meditation. They opened their eyes, and she smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said. “I feel much... calmer, now.”

 

“Good,” said Jolee, standing. “You should meditate like that at least once a day, preferably when you have some time where you can explore your mind. Late night is the best time, since you’re not supposed to know how to do these things.”

 

She smiled, taking his hand as he helped her to her feet. “You’ll stay up with me, then?”

 

“Of course,” he responded, smiling as well. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

 

She turned away from him, facing the door of the dormitory they shared. “Jolee... I’ve been thinking...”

 

“About?” he prompted, when she was silent for a moment.

 

“Us. The Jedi. The War. Everything. I don’t know...” She sighed impatiently. “Don’t you feel like... like we’re being held here? Like we’re prisoners in the Enclave?”

 

Jolee gazed at her curiously. “What do you mean?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know,” she said again, turning to face him again. “I... I love you, Jolee, and... I feel as if... staying here...” She trailed off, frowning. “I don’t want to hide this from anyone anymore. It’s not enough that you know I love you. I want the galaxy to know it. I want to prove to the Order that love is just as much a right for a Jedi as it is for soldier, or... a smuggler, or... or anyone else!”

 

“Nayama,” he said, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You don’t know what you’re saying! I can’t leave the Order!”

 

“Why not?” she asked pleadingly. “They won’t let us be together! They’d rather tear us apart!”

 

“Nayama, I...”

 

“Jolee, listen to me. I’ve... I’ve been thinking. The Jedi who have joined Exar Kun have become far more powerful than any of the Masters. If we join them, they can complete my training - and yours - and we can be together. We wouldn’t have to hide it anymore!”

 

“Nayama, are you actually saying this? Please tell me this is just a sick joke you-”

 

“Do I look like I’m joking, Jolee?” she asked, looking his straight in the eye. “I’m dead serious. I want us to be together, Jolee, but... we can’t be together here. Not with the Jedi.”

 

This wasn’t happening. This was just a sick dream he was having. Nayama would never... She would never suggest such an idea! The very thought of her asking him to betray the Order and join Exar Kun’s Sith was preposterous!

 

It wasn’t a dream. As he gazed into her eyes, he knew she was dead serious. “Jolee... please. I can’t stay here. And neither can you. We don’t belong here! The Jedi won’t train me, and you can only teach me so much - your training isn’t even complete!”

 

“No. I won’t abandon the Order. I’ll never join the Sith. Not as long as there’s air in my lungs, and blood in my veins. I refuse to believe that you really want to run away and join Exar Kun and his Sith! You’re not like that!”

 

“How would you know?” she spat. “You’re not letting yourself see the truth! You’re letting the Jedi get inside your head! You’re letting them interfere! There are so many restrictions placed on you that you can’t even sneeze without them making you feel guilty about spreading germs to others by being unable to control your bodily functions or something!”

 

“And you’re letting the false promises of power and glory being spouted from Kun get to you! The Dark Side is the easy way, Nayama.”

 

“It’s the way to freedom!” she yelled, pulling out of his grip. “We need to break the chains the Jedi have placed on us and embrace freedom!”

 

“You’re starting to sound an awful lot like Exar Kun himself!”

 

“And you’re starting to sound like Lamar! He’s not even a Knight yet, and he’s already starting to sound like a Master!”

 

“Vrook may be arrogant, but he’s the perfect example of what a Jedi should be - calm, serene, and logical.”

 

“He’s the perfect example of how the Jedi Code can take a powerful Force User and turn him into an obedient slave to the Council!”

 

“I will not let you fall victim to the poison Exar Kun is spreading across the galaxy! I love you too much for that!”

 

“If you truly loved me, you would come with me!” she hissed, advancing on him. “You would trust me to show you how the Jedi have been lying to you since the day you were taken for training!”

 

She turned to leave, but he grabbed her by the arm and threw her in the opposite direction of the door. He pulled his lightsaber from his belt and ignited it, pointing the green blade at her. “I won’t let you do this!”

 

She barred her teeth, glaring at him. “Then you will die!”

 

She pumped her legs into the air, bringing herself into a crouching position. She pulled her own lightsaber from her belt, and the next thing he knew, their blades were locked, the twin green beams of light filling the small room.

 

With a flick of his lightsaber, he forced her blade back over her head, and kicked out at her chest, being sure to use as little of his strength as possible. He couldn’t hurt her. He couldn’t.

 

She rolled backwards, her back hitting the corner of one of the two beds in the room. She rolled to the right, pulling her lightsaber up to strike at his face. He blocked easily, and again pushed her weapon away. This time, though, she was ready for his next attack. He lunged at her arm with his lightsaber. She brought her blade down on the hilt of his. Sparks cascaded to the ground as she brought her arm around his elbow, forcing him to drop what remained of his weapon. She kicked pit, and her foot met his stomach. He fell to his knees, winded. She came in for another attack, but he was too quick for her. He threw out his hand, and she was thrown backwards into the air, striking the far wall, her weapon flying across the room and into his hand.

 

He re-ignited the brilliant green beam and thrust downward, where it stopped pointing directly at her chest. He starred into her deep blue eyes. She stared back at him with an odd expression on her face. He had never seen that look before. A look of anger; a look of hate; a look of evil.

 

“Go ahead Jolee,” she taunted. “Kill me.”

 

He remained motionless, staring into her eyes. This wasn’t the woman he had fallen in love with. She had changed. Her mind had been poisoned by the Sith teachings. But he could help her. He had to help her. He loved her.

“Do it!” she yelled angrily. “Kill me now, or you’ll regret it, Jolee.”

 

He still didn’t move. His eyes burned as he fought back tears. “This isn’t you. This isn’t the woman I fell in love with.”

 

“The woman you fell in love with was weak,” she spat. “Of course...” her face contorted into a look of disgust. “Look at her teacher.”

 

He fell to his knees, the lightsaber falling from his loose grip. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill Nayama.

 

She smiled darkly. “You’ve failed, Bindo. You’ve lost.”

 

She stood, walking past him towards the door. He didn’t move. He stared at where she had been, tears running down his face. As the door sealed shut behind her, he slumped against the bedpost, the tears now flowing freely. She was right. He had failed. He had failed to save the woman he loved from becoming a monster - an insult to everything he loved about her.

 

He screamed in agony as the sorrow erupted from his chest. He could not fail her. He would not fail her. He had to save her. He knew that she was not truly a disciple of the Dark Side. The Sith teachings could never tear apart all that he had loved about her. He sat there, in his room, until the sun had risen fully, and the sounds of life began to fill the academy.

 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

 

“I am willing to accept the consequences of my actions, Masters,” he said, after recounting what had happened that terrible night.

 

“What do you feel would be an adequate punishment for your crimes, padawan?”

 

He thought for a moment. “The Council has but one choice, that I can see,” he said. “I must be exiled.”

 

The Council was silent for a moment.

 

“A fairly harsh sentence, is it not?”

 

“No,” he said firmly. “Not only have I disobeyed an order from the Council, but I failed to foresee the potential consequences of my actions. I allowed my emotions to cloud my objectivity. I had not thought it possible that she could be tricked by the Sith promises of power and wealth. Perhaps I didn’t want to think it was possible. Because of my foolishness, she went on to kill dozens of Jedi.”

 

“You failed to heed the Code,” said Vandar simply. “That is your failing. Had you detached yourself from your emotions, you would have been able to foresee Nayama’s fall.”

 

The Masters were silent for a long moment. Jolee couldn’t meet their gaze. He let his head fall, his eyes closed.

 

“Jolee Bindo. Your actions have had grave consequences. It is good that you know how you have failed the commitments of a Jedi. It will make it easier to come to terms with our decision.” The silence pressed in on him for what felt like an eternity...

 

“The Council has agreed that you are to be granted the rank of Jedi Knight.”

 

His eyes snapped open, and he looked up to Master Vandar. “But...”

 

“You have learned the hardest lesson you will have to learn in your career, Jolee,” said Raln. “You have always been an emotional student, and you have finally learned the dangers of emotion.”

 

“I... I don’t know what to say, Master.”

 

“You are dismissed, young Bindo,” said Vandar.

 

“Yes Master. Thank you Master.”

 

He bowed, and showed himself out of the Council chamber. As he turned the corner, he leaned against the wall, staring at the ground.

 

They had made him a Knight. He was responsible for the deaths of dozens of Jedi across the galaxy, and they had rewarded him. That was not the idea of the Jedi he had grown up with. The Jedi shouldn’t praise and reward the stupid. He looked up to the sky. Nayama had been right about one thing. He didn’t belong here with the Jedi. They had failed him, just as he had failed Nayama. He had to get away for a while. Think things over.

 

He turned to look towards the Council chamber again. The Masters were wrong. He knew they were...

[JasraLantill]

Another good one, Doc! I always like fics with Jolee in them. And you said you needed ideas for the next fic? What about something to do with Mission and her brother leaving (wherever they left from--which I don't know) and going to Taris? Mission did say that she was young, like 5, and didn't know why her brother had to smuggle them out, but she thought it might have to do with gambling debts. Just a suggestion.

[Lord Spitfire]

This is a good idea for stories. Your writin is details and entertaining.

 

Only one thing, during the war of Exar-Kun, Jedi were allowed to marry.

[The Doctor]

Uh... no, I'm reasonably sure they weren't. That was the whole point of Jolee having to hide it from the Council.

 

@ Jasra: I actually already have Mission Across space half done.

[Diego Varen]

I'm looking forward to the new Fan Fics Doctor. I didn't comment, since I had read these Fics before, but these new ones I'll be waiting for.

[The Doctor]

I'll post two today - Rule Number One and a new one.

[The Doctor]

Rule Number One

 

Weapons. They come in all shapes and sizes. Some are small, like blasters. Some are large, like laser cannons. Some are sneaky, like grenades. Some are brash, like vibroswords. And some are elegant, like the Jedi lightsaber. But none of them are lethal if you lose them. Rule number one: Never lose your weapon in hostile territory.

 

And always wear your seatbelt.

 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

 

Bastila watched through the small circular window as the Endar Spire exploded in a ball of flame, Sith fighters swarming through the debris, searching for survivors. She leaned back in her chair, breathing heavily. They would find none. She sensed no life from what was left of the ship - not that there was much of it remaining. The hull had been ripped open, the atmosphere released, and the remaiening shell atomised by Sith guns.

 

The pod rocked as they entered the atmosphere of the planet - according to the data scrolling across her screen, it was the Republic world Taris.

 

“Hull temperature at critical,” called the ensign in the pod with her. “We’re coming apart!”

 

“Reroute power from the engines!” she barked. “Now that we’re in free fall, we won’t need them.”

 

The pod began shaking even more violently - a Sith fighter was following them into the atmosphere, its laser turrets blazing. “We’re hit!” yelled the ensign. “I’m reading a micro-fracture in the starboard hull plating!”

 

“How long before it becomes a breach?”

 

“Fifty-two seconds!”

 

“Fire the emergency manoeuvring thrusters!” she ordered. “Take us on a vertical drop!”

 

“Ma’am, we won’t be able to-”

 

“Do it!” she yelled.

 

“Understood! Activating thrusters... now!”

 

The ship lurched as the thrusters kicked in, sending the pod into a nosedive.

 

“The Sith fighter’s overshot us, ma’am,” he reported checking his scanners. “We’re clear.”

 

“Slow our descent! We’re coming in too fast!” She tried to make herself heard over the rumbling of the escape pod, but it wasn’t easy.

 

“I can’t!” he yelled back. “The thrusters have burnt themselves out!”

The pod shook violently, and his console exploded, showering him in sparks. He screamed as the flesh on his face burnt away, his hands over his eyes. Bastila sensed his pain, but she couldn’t move to do anything for him. The pod was falling straight down to the planet below, and she was pinned against the back of her seat.

 

There was a grinding sound, and the pod lurched again - it must have collided with a piece of metal jutting out from one of the skyscrapers. The side of the pod was torn open, revealing the endless cityscape of Taris. The air was temporarily knocked out of her lungs as the pressure equalised. She was suddenly very aware that the only thing stopping her from falling out of the pod to the city below was a thin piece of fabric stretched across her chest and waist.

 

The city was rushing up towards her faster than ever. She braced herself as the pod met the streets of the Upper City. It skidded across the platform to the edge, continuing to plummet through an oxygen duct. The ground came up fast, and the seatbelt ripped as the pod met the physical surface of the planet. She was thrown forward, her head meeting the console in front of her. The last thing she heard was the sound of the altitude alarm - which she hadn’t been able to hear before now. The world swam before her eyes, and she blacked out.

 

 

Her head hurt. Her back hurt. Her legs hurt. Everything hurt.

 

She slowly opened her eyes. The alarm had stopped, and the consoles had gone dark - the power core had been damaged beyond her ability to repair. She stood with difficulty, and dizzily looked over at the man in the pod with her. There was blood caking his face, and his arm was... missing. She checked for a pulse, but she knew it was fruitless. He was dead.

 

Her Jedi senses forced the nausea and disorientation from her mind, alerting her of something else. There was someone coming. She stuck her head out the wound in the side of the pod - almost twenty men were approaching the pod, all of them, from the looks of it, armed.

 

She grabbed her lightsaber from her belt - only to find that it wasn’t there. She turned back to the pod, expecting to find it on her seat. It wasn’t there, either. She got on her knees, the group of men getting ever closer, and checked underneath her chair. Nothing. She was hit with a sudden wave of dizziness, and had to lean against the wall of the crippled vehicle to steady herself. Her lightsaber was missing. She had no other weapon. Her companion was dead. And to top it off, there was a squadron of men approaching her ship, armed, with Force only knew what intentions.

 

This wasn’t going to be easy.

 

As the first thug reached for his weapon, she reached out with hers. The Force dragged him face first into the pod’s hull, stunning him. She grabbed his blaster, and smashed the grip into the back of his skull, knocking him out cold. She turned the blaster on one of the oncoming thugs, and fired. It caught him full in the chest, stunning him, as well. But there were too many of them - and they were all armed with blasters and stun batons, and her Force powers were drained from using her Battle Meditation to get the crew off the Spire safely.

 

She dove into the pod again as the others opened fire on her. The already weakened hull began to buckle under the strain of weapons fire. She took one last look around the pod for her lightsaber, but she still couldn’t find a trace of it.

 

White-hot pain erupted in her arm as a blaster bolt grazed her shoulder. She tried to heal the wound as best she could, but her powers were severely drained. Her vision began to swim as the pain overwhelmed her - she was exhausted from the battle aboard the Endar Spire. She couldn’t take another battle right now. Especially without her lightsaber. She felt nausea wash over her, and she steadied herself against the wall to stop the world from spinning. The floor rushed up to her, but she barely felt the impact of her skull on the bare metal. The last thing she saw was a pair of strong hands coming towards her, and her world went black for the second time in a matter of hours.

 

 

“She’s a tough one,” said Derethnek, picking her up easily out of the escape pod. “Check the pod,” he ordered.

 

“There’s someone else in here, boss,” said one of the two men who had entered the pod. “Forget it,” he said suddenly. “He’s dead.”

 

“Keep lookin’,” barked Derethnek. “There’s gotta be som’in else worth takin’ back to Brejik.”

 

There was silence for a moment while the thugs tore apart the pod in search of valuables. The first disembarked carrying a dozen power relays and what was left of the computer core. The other simply stood with his back to them, staring at something in his hands.

 

“What is it, Garl?”

 

“Uh... you might wanna put her down, boss,” he said, turning around. The object in his hand was revealed - a long, cylindrical shaft.

 

“Is that...”

 

“Yeah. A lightsaber.”

 

Everyone turned to look at the woman Derethnek was carrying in his arms. “You mean... she’s a Jedi?”

 

“That explains Murn running face first into the pod...”

 

“We should leave her here. It’s too dangerous to bring a Jedi back to base. If she wakes up-”

 

“She won’t wake up,” said Derethnek, throwing Bastila roughly to the ground and pulling his stun baton from his belt. He set it to maximum, and thrust it into her stomach. She shook violently for a moment, then went limp again. “We’re taking her back with us. A Republic soldier is an amazing find - but a Jedi? She’s worth millions.”

 

He picked her up again, and slung her over his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here, before those bloody rakghouls show up!”

[The Doctor]

That's the last of the already posted stories. I'll be posting Mission Across Space in a little bit, as well.

[Lord Spitfire]

This was a good one. I think that it is the best one in this collection of stories so far.

 

Looking forwad to the next one.

 

BTW, might i reccomend the aftermath of the battle of Malachor? That would be cool.

[The Doctor]

Mission Across Space

 

Family. They are the most important thing in life. When things look grim, and there seems to be little hope, family is always there to back you up. One is usually willing to do more for a member of their family than for anyone else. In fact, we often do not realise how far we are willing to go for our family - it’s practically instinct. There isn’t a child in the world who wouldn’t tear the world apart to save a parent.

 

When a family is torn apart, it is devastating for all involved - but even more so for the children, particularly to the very young. Children of a certain age are often affected by the loss of a family member more severely than adults - they simply don’t know how to deal with the pain of loss. It’s up to the parents to help them through the difficult times.

 

But what if the parents are the family that are lost? Who’s responsibility is it to tell the child that they will never see their mother and father again? That the man and woman who they loved more than anyone else in the world are gone forever? Who should that burden be placed on? Grandparents? Godparents? Aunts and Uncles?

 

This is a story mentioned, but not explained, in Knights of the Old Republic. It’s a story about how one brave young man who steps up to help his little sister after the death of their mother. The lesson here is simple: when a family is being torn apart, those remaining must band together to help each other through the dark times. A simple lesson, but still a very important one.

 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

 

“Griff? Griff, I need you to watch your sister for me while I finish supper.”

 

Mission looked up at her brother, beaming as he at down next to her. How she loved her brother.

 

“What are we having?” he asked, ignoring his little sister and watching his mother.

 

“Nothing fancy,” she muttered. “I have to get to work soon. I’ve been late three times this week, and I can’t afford to be late again.”

 

She placed two bowls of a sticky brown meat in front of her children. “Alright,” she said. “Make sure Mission gets to bed on time. I don’t want her up late like last time.”

 

“That wasn’t my fault!” he replied indignantly. “You left the door open when you left! She slipped out while I was-”

 

“While you were on the comm chatting with that new girlfriend of yours,” she snapped back. “I’ve blocked her from the system for the night. You can talk to her in the morning.”

 

“But Mom!”

 

“Butts are better covered, not discussed,” she said absently, as she began to tear apart the apartment, apparently searching for something.

 

“Here Mum,” said Griff, passing her the name tag that had been lying on the table.

 

“Thank you dear,” she said, pinning it to her shirt. She leaned down, kissed both her children on the forehead, and headed for the front door.

 

“C’mon Mission,” said Griff, standing. “Let’s see if there’s-”

 

The front door burst open, and three armed men entered the small apartment. Griff pushed his sister behind him, trying to block her from view. He looked on helplessly as one of the men grabbed his mother by the throat, lifted her off the ground, and barred his teeth, growling.

 

“We’re here for our money!” he hissed, intensifying the pressure on her air passage.

 

“I... I don’t know... what you’re talking... about...” she gasped.

 

“Griff Vao! Where is he?”

 

Mission arched her neck to look up at her brother, her eyes brimming with tears. She didn’t understand what was going on, but... what were men with guns doing looking for Griff?

 

Griff pushed her further behind her, half pushing her back into the kitchen. She whimpered quietly as he forced her under the table, their dinner forgotten.

 

“Just stay here, and be quiet,” he whispered.

 

She whimpered again, tears beginning to stream down her face. Griff sighed as he looked into her eyes. He took her hand in his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Everything will be alright,” he said. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

 

She nodded, tears still silently soaking her blue-tinged cheeks. He gave her a reassuring smile, then ducked out from beneath the table and headed back to the living room, silently sticking his head around the corner to see into the room.

 

His mother was lying on the floor, facing away from him. The carpet beneath her was slowly growing a deep red. Her lekku twitched weakly, and her breathing was coming in ragged gasps. Two of the men were tearing the room apart, looking for anything of value to take with them. The third was nowhere to be seen.

 

He began edging his way into the room when he heard Mission scream behind him. He turned around in time to see a pair of calloused hands reaching out to grab him. He tried to dodge, but he was too slow. The brute wrapped his hands around Griff’s neck and lifted him bodily form the floor, raising him to eye level.

 

“Griff Vao?”

 

Griff’s mind raced furiously. “No, I... I’m his son, uh... Sip.”

 

The man shook him hard, cracking his head against the wall.

 

“Ok, ok, I’m Griff...”

 

The other two men entered the room. One of them carried a stack of credits. “Found this stashed behind the comm unit,” he said.

 

“I was going to return it to you!” said Griff desperately. “My Mom was going out to work tonight! I was gonna bring it to you while she was out!”

 

“This is only half of what you owe us!”

 

“Maybe we could take the rest of what you owe from your belly!” hissed the man who appeared to be the leader, pulling a knife from his tunic and placing the tip to Griff’s stomach.

 

There was a noise from behind them, and all four sets of eyes turned to the floor in time to see a small blue blur crash into the knees of one of the men, forcing him to collapse to the ground. The leader, caught off guard, got a small blue fist in the groin, sending the knife falling to the floor. Mission dove for it, but was caught by the remaining thug. He held her over his head, and threw her across the room. Her head crashed into the leg of the over-turned sofa, and the last thing she knew was Griff screaming her name, and two of the three mercenaries dashing out the door, their stolen credits and Vao valuables stashed away in their bags.

 

 

She awoke to her brother’s touch on her shoulder, shaking her awake. “Mission, are you ok?”

 

She opened her eyes, shaking her head to clear her vision. “I think so...” She looked around the apartment and saw the third home invader laying still on the floor, the knife sticking out of his stomach, blood staining his shirt and the surrounding floor. And laying a few feet away, in the living room, was their mother, lying on her side.

 

Now that Griff was in the living room, he could see her face properly. He stared at her for a long moment, taking in her vacant blue eyes, her broken nose, and the small trickle of blood dripping from her open mouth. Her lekku dangled limply behind her, and her left leg stuck out at an odd angle. Griff forced Mission’s gaze away from the grisly sight of their dead mother, but the damage as done. She broke down into tears, rocking back and forth in her brother’s arms. He gently lifted her from the floor, half dragging, half carrying her to the door.

 

“We have to get out of here, Sis,” he said quietly. Those guys may be back. We should get out of here for a while.

 

Mission struggled to get to her mother’s side, but Griff held her strong in his arms. “Mission, I’m sorry, but we have to leave. Now. They could be back any minute with their buddies.”

 

She continued to cry hysterically, but allowed herself to be steered out of the apartment by her brother - the only familiar thing left in her life.

[Diego Varen]

This new Untold Tale was good. I felt sorry for Mission all the way through, while Griff tried to be the heroic type. Looking forward to more Doctor.

[Bee Hoon]

I can't believe I've never read your fics till now! Most of them anyway.

 

Anyway, I just wanted to mention that in the fic about Juhani's fall, you said that Juhani's teeth tore into Quatra's esophagus. The trachea (air pipe!) lies in front of the esophagus (food pipe!) so you might want to consider editing that bit:)

 

There's a few minor typos here and there, e.g. "she barred her teeth" in the fic about Jolee and Nayama.

 

In Rule Number One, I think it's a pretty good idea about how things would have happened, but did Brejik know that she was a Jedi? Haven't played the game in a while, so I'm not sure. For the purposes of the fic anyway, I suppose:)

 

And always wear your seatbelt.

“That explains Murn running face first into the pod...”

 

Rotfl!

 

But what if the parent’s are the family that are lost? Who’s responsibility is it to tell the child that they will never see their mother and father again?

Small mistakes there with the apostrophes and whatchamacallits. Might wanna fix it:)

 

All in all, a job well done! Keep it coming!

[The Doctor]

The thing in the Juhani fic was intentional. It was meant to show exactly how deep Juhani went into her Master's throat tissues. Guess I should have made that more clear...

 

Editing Mission Across Space now...

 

Done.

[anakin34]

lol it's a cool tale

[The Doctor]

I should have another one up by the end of the weekend. I won't tell you who it will be based on though - don't want to spoil the big surprize.

 

[The Doctor]

Edit: I lied. This next one won't be about Big Z (in case you didn't get the hint I gave in my last post, that's what I was implying). It'll still be done by the end of the weekend, but it won't be te Zaalbar one. Sorry.

[Diego Varen]

Looking forward to it Doc. Also, if we're allowed to request Fan Fics, I would like a Fic that shows how Vrook managed to escape the attack of Dantooine in KOTOR.