[FIC] The Unknown World

[Salzella]

Right, new fiction coming up. Nothing too ambitious here, just the closing act of SW: KotOR, from Lehon onwards. The ending will be my own, and there have been a few significant changes to the narrative and characters. This also assumes a certain amount of knowledge about the events of KotOR. Hopefully I can actually finish this one.

 

All that's left to say is this: enjoy! Comments are of course very welcome

 

- Next post contains first section.

 

Edit: can someone please tell me how to get the paragraph indents... Or let me just send you all the word file... Edit: Nevermind, done it. After a fashion.

 

I should also mention that this story features sweary words, though not particularly bad ones or it would never have made it up in the first place. hehe.

[Salzella]

The Unknown World

 

 

The cold, weak sun with its harsh yellowish light glittered on the crystals in the rocks edifices and cliffs, glinting sparkles appearing whenever he looked at around him. The shadows were cool, and unpleasant despite the seemingly tranquil scene surrounding him. The grass swayed in the wind, occasionally blown forcefully by a gust of the never-ending eddies that seemed to ceaselessly rock this place. Even the greenery in the surrounding hill looked fake somehow, like they green, leafy doppelgangers of real vegetation.

 

He looked out over the water. There was not much to see, just more islands and the occasional crippled bulkhead in the distance. The air was astonishingly clear, and he could see for miles. Miles over a graveyard planet, all the worse because it had a tropical and lush appearance.

 

Revan sighed. He had been sat here for at least an hour now, thinking the same idle thoughts, the glittering rocks and distant islands going round and round inside his head. Only the ever-present whistle of the wind overhead and the occasional cry of some unseen creature reminded him there was other life in this forsaken place.

 

Then the chanting would start again, and he would close his eyes and try to tune it out, but it just went on and on and on. Then it would stop again, and there would be a minute or so of blessed quiet, then it would start again. And again. For perhaps the tenth time, he reached down, and plucked one of the prickly, stunted flowers from the grass and crushed it between his fingers, breathing in the strangely heady scent, a dry spicy aroma strangely out of sync with the coldness of the surroundings.

 

He closed his eyes. The smell had made him slightly drowsy. Again. They had told him he was to remain alert and ready, but that was before they had started their shamanistic ritual. He idly wondered why these cults, or sects, or whatever they chose to call themselves, always glorified in the over-elaboration of these thing. Made them feel important, he supposed.

 

The chanting stopped. Then the chanting started. Again.

 

* * *

 

He could see the bulk of the temple in the corner of his eye, a threatening dark mass that seemed to waver slightly on the periphery of his vision, then become solid again when he looked at it fully. It was evil. Revan had always had a problem with the application of such an absolute in a galaxy of grays, but here it seemed very appropriate. Of course, he had been here before, and had been different then, though whether that was because of the temple or himself, he wasn’t sure. Probably the latter. Memories if his life before the reprogramming of his mind were slowly coming back, insinuating themselves into his mind, overriding the ‘new’ ones. He wasn’t sure how long it would have taken them to come back on their own, had he not been told who he really was. Probably only a short while. He had already been getting flashes, even before the Leviathan.

 

He didn’t want to think about that just yet. Still too painful.

 

But the mind has a treacherous habit of thinking about that which you want it to avoid.

 

The images still replayed in his head. It had all been going so smooth. They had been freed by HK, made their way to the bridge, killed the admiral, and they had been near the hanger as well. He had seen the Ebon Hawk from the observation platform. They had been so close…

 

Then everything went very, very wrong.

 

Those images, that had happened so fast in real-time had played back over and over in his mind: Malak standing there in the corridor, the fight (he was sure it hadn’t been that slow), being disarmed and the feeling of horrible, hollow despair and, he would have to admit, anger, then Bastila’s intervention…

 

The image that had been engrained in his retinas though, it seemed, was the blast door slamming shut on them just as Malak destroyed Bastila’s lightsaber. The hiss of the electromagnetics as they sealed them off from the two combatants still played back in his mind, joining the chanting (drumming?) and the wind going round and round and round in his head.

 

The despair he had felt after being beaten by Malak was nothing compared to the feelings when that door had closed. Complete and utter desolation would come close, but not quite do it justice. He had almost wished Bastila had just let Malak finish him, however selfish and fatalist that was. But of course he knew that she had to be left to whatever fate awaited her, and he was beginning to understand the willingness to sacrifice that had made him the person he was, in that previous, now distant life.

 

That hadn’t been it though. They were running across the hangar when a whole damn battalion of Sith troops, and a few Jedi burst through the doors to their left. They had carried on running, but they were going to be caught, Canderous’ covering fire coming too little too late. Then Zalbaar had coming charging out, yelled at them to run. And run they did, expecting his huge, comfortingly hairy, smelly bulk to re-appear in the loading ramp. It didn't. Another life reduced to a breath in the litany of dead this mission had left so far.

 

He remembered Mission hadn’t talked for days.

 

And then there had been Korriban…

 

The Sith world would probably have been bad enough without the events on the Leviathan, with the self-satisfied, arrogant bastards always looking for someone to bully. That was without the anger and despair at the loss of Bastila as well as Zalbaar, and the fact that he had a permanent headache, which occasionally pulsed painfully, which he assumed was because of his bond with Bastila. He could only imagine what was happening to her. He tried not to, and mostly succeeded. Other times, the feelings ambushed him and left him feeling angry, betrayed and lost.

 

He really shouldn’t have done that to those youngsters in the spaceport. The Sith who was bullying them would probably have killed them anyway, but the nihilistic recklessness which had momentarily come over him, another pulse of strong anger, had taken their toll.

 

Outcome: three dead bodies on the floor and the feeling of their blood on his hands.

 

So many people had died on this mission. Those two Jedi for a start, that Belaya and her damn cat girlfriend. He had tried to convince her to come back. He had failed, so what? He couldn’t be held accountable for that.

 

Well that was true. It just wasn’t honest.

 

Then there was the whole population of Taris. He could also say that wasn’t his fault, but it was equally as hollow. On top of that there were the countless civilians, Sith, humans, there were just so many… and for what. A suicide mission no-one really thought would work except the Masters. The damn Masters as he was starting to think of them. He’d shown them though hadn’t he? Neophyte padawan indeed… Perhaps in the long run all this death really was nevessary, but part of his old self that had been re-appearing of late was the unwillingness to kill unnecessarily, an inbuilt reluctance for people to die if it was not an asbolutel necessity, and it was something that endured even from when he was a Sith Lord.

 

He wondered what had happened on Korriban. What with the natural belligerence of the Sith, and the fact that the whole academy had been killed, Uthar was dead, and Yuthura had just gone. He wasn’t sure what had happened to her. After he had spared her, she said she was going. Perhaps Sleheyron. Maybe Coruscant. He would probably never know. It was a shame, really.

 

At that moment, his head throbbed with white hot pain, worse than any that had come before. The anger he felt inside him was horrible and consuming. He opened his eyes, but saw only blurs. He stayed still for a moment, letting the pain pass. He hated to think what had caused it. He tried to deaden the connection between him and Bastila, and succeeded in that instead of pain, there was the feeling of being smothered under a pillow.

 

He was awakened from his reverie by the feeling of someone approaching. He couldn’t tell who, so he stood up and looked round, and saw the brown, bald dome of Jolee Bindo. He saw Revan and walked quickly over and whispered quietly but hurriedly to Revan.

 

“You can’t go in there alone.”

 

Revan just looked at him.

 

“We had a…” his hand made a circling motion for a moment, “Premonition. Going into that temple alone would be… a very bad idea.”

 

“They won’t let me Jolee. They don’t trust me as it is. They’re probably right not to.”

 

Jolee shook his head impatiently.

 

“They’ll have to let you, they don’t really matter. If you go in there alone, well, I don’t even know what might happen. Just persuade them. I can’t understand a damn word they say!”

 

Revan walked over to the leader of the priests. There was a heated discussion and much angry gesticulating before the Rakatan relented.

 

Revan walked back.

 

“He says yes,” he grinned.

 

* * *

[Salzella]

Two more hours yet, and finally the guide gave the signal that the barrier had been lowered. Revan glanced around once more at the deceptively luscious landcape before jogging with Jolee into the temple itself. He could feel an invisible force as a weight against his chest as he crossed the threshold, and he couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched, a sensation that raised the hairs on the back of his neck and sent a shiver down his spine.

 

He took a few tentative steps forward, followed by Jolee, before whipping round as a door of stone, carved with strange and disturbingly alive carvings slammed shut behind them, immediately blocking off almost all light save the flickering shapes of a few guttering torches, and faint yellow sunshine streaming through the dust from two corridors leading left and right away from them. Directly in front of them was a door very similiar to the one that had entombed them, it's carvings seeming almost to play out events in the corner of his eye, stilling when he looked a them directly in an almost serpentine manner. The carvings appeared to depict stylized Rakata variously fighting away various beasts, none of which he recognize, and building monuments and temples. In the centre was a tableau showing hundreds upon thousands of them constructing what looked like the skeleton of the Star Forge. The strangest thing about the carvings, and the most disturbing, was the identical expressions on the faces of the Rakata; they all had a look of deranged rage on their faces that didn't bear looking at closely.

 

Revan breathed in the musty air, struggling for real breath in the close atmosphere of the corridor. He kept hearing insectine scurries and scuttles from the darkness, and he could not decide if they were real or something in the temple was making them real for him.

 

Yet it was all somehow familiar, like he had visited in a previous life. In a sense, he supposed, he had.

 

His instincts were screaming to him that it was a trap, and he was certain it was, but he ignored it nevertheless. To give in now would be to fail utterly, and he would not be able to let himself do that. Besides, whatever was waiting for them in here could not be worse than what he was going to do to those who had taken Bastila from him. He could sense something dark in the depths of the temple, but couldn't make it out. Worryingly, he could also no longer feel anything of Bastilas previously unshakeable presence in his mind; now all that was there was a darkness like a blanket over his perceptions.

 

‘Don’t suppose you’ve any, you know… bright ideas? Flashes of inspiration?’

 

Revan sighed, shaken out of his reverie.

 

‘Bindo, I didn’t bring you along for your oh-so-humorous commentary you know.’

 

‘Really? Could have fooled me.’

 

Revan sighed again. If he kept this up, he could pass for a pretty convincing asthmatic. Jolee Bindo had that sort of an effect on people.

 

‘Look, I don’t know where we’re going, where we need to be going, or who or indeed what is waiting for us in here. Clear?’

 

‘Crystal, Mighty Leader.’

 

This time he managed to stifle the sigh in time.

 

‘Just follow me. And

don’t touch anything

.’

* * *

 

He stood in front of an old computer screen. He looked at the screen. The screen emphatically failed to be intimidated. He kicked the screen.

 

‘Argh.’

 

His foot hurt.

 

‘Jolee, have a look at it will you?’ Revan said, massaging his foot. The old man nodded, and bent over. He appeared to be talking to it, mumbling sweet nothings into its audio receptors.

 

They had been stumbling around inside the dusty, suffocatingly silent corridors of the ancient temple for perhaps an hour, maybe as little as ten minutes, maybe much more. Their sense of time had been diminished in its dusty confines, and it was only when they came to a balcony that they figured they had been in there for little more than sixty minutes. From there, they had trudged their way further into the bowels of the stone structure, and eventually came to the computer room and its obstinate electrical occupant.

 

So far they had found not even a trace that the temple was occupied, temporarily or otherwise, even by insects. It appeared completely lifeless, and Revan didn’t know whether to be comforted by this, or alarmed. Certainly his gut instinct was to be jumpy as a Golterian leap-fly.

 

He looked over at Jolee, still failing to elicit a response from the dysfunctional machinery. He couldn’t help but feel a distinct sense of anti-climax. Had they really come this far just to get stuck and lost in a dusty abandoned temple?

 

He looked up as Jolee gave a triumphant yell, and saw a faint yellowish glow from one of the central screens of the cluster.

 

‘What does it say?’ he asked, a degree of caution in his face.

 

‘Uh… System Inactive,’ Jolee replied, his face falling almost comically. Revan put his head in his hands, rubbing his face and kneading his eyes with his knuckles. Here they were, trapped, and Force knew what could be happening to Bastila in that sort of timescale.

 

‘Oh, wait a moment here lad…’

 

Revan looked up, daring to hope.

 

‘Pass me your datapad for a moment will you?’

 

He obliged, walking over to see what was going on. The screen had flashed up a matrix of complex characters, similar to those on Dantooine and inscribed on the sides of the Star Maps, but more intricate. It seemed to be scanning the pad. Without warning, a deep voice, gravelly with distortion, issued from the depths of the antiquated device.

 

‘… Revan?’

 

He nodded.

 

‘… What was it you wanted, Revan?’

 

He looked over at Jolee.

 

‘Um, you grant us access the top of the temple? Please?’ he added, feeling foolish.

 

‘No.’

 

‘Ah. I see. Well, do you know how we could?’

 

‘Yes.’

 

Revan rolled his eyes at Jolee.

 

‘Could you, perhaps… tell us?’

 

‘Yes.’

 

He sighed.

 

‘Please tell me how I may access to upper levels of the temple.”

 

‘Go to the lower levels. There is a database there. Speak to it.’

 

‘How do I get down?’

 

‘I have opened the way.’

 

‘Thank you,’ Revan said wearily. ‘Let’s go’, he said to Jolee.

* * *

 

 

There was indeed a database in the catacombs of the temple. Thankfully, it proved rather more responsive than the previous terminal, lighting up as soon as Revan touched the faintly lit pad.

 

‘Revan,’ it said in its low, bassy voice. ‘It’s been a long time since you came here. I detect certain significant differences in your psychological make-up and attitude. Adjusting databanks accordingly… Done.’

 

‘What are you?’

 

‘You do not remember? Ah, your memory has been corrupted. Adjusting databanks accordingly… Greetings. This is the database constructed by the builders in order to chronicle and catalogue the information acquired during the time of the Rakatan Empire. Is there anything you wish to know, Revan?’

 

He was about to ask it to immediately let them into to the top of the temple, but he paused.

 

‘What do you know about the Star Forge?’

 

‘The Star Forge… Searching… Searching… The Star Forge is a weapon and factory constructed at the peak of the Indomitable Empire. It is a tool of the dark side of the force, feeding off the hatred, anger and jealousy of it’s users to feed its powers, while also accentuating these traits within its builders. The Star Forge uses these Force energies to produce ships and other instruments of war via means unknown to this installation.’

 

‘It draws upon the dark side?’

 

‘Yes, corrupting those who use it, it’s hold upon those who use it becoming stronger as it takes more energy.’

 

Revan had his doubts about that, but sometimes talking about the Dark Side as an entity made things clearer.

 

‘I see…’ Revan paused again. ‘I need access to the upper levels of this temple. May I?’

 

‘You may, Revan. The door has been unlocked. Please come back if you wish to further browse my databanks.’

 

‘Thank you. I may,’ Revan said, bowing slightly and backing off. He spun around, cloak flowing around him.

 

‘Follow me, Jolee’

 

* * *

[Hawkstrong16]

I like it. More please!

[Rev7]

Nice job!

[Salzella]

more coming soon. probably.

[Hawkstrong16]

Yes! I'll be waiting eagerly!

[Salzella]

right, re-jigged the formatting a bit so it's easier on the eye, and it turns i lost the newr bits of the story when windows on this computer was re-installed, so that's set me back until i re-write those bits. but it will come

[KathDawg]

Very nice job! Keep up the good work!

 

~KD