[fic] Conqueror, Saviour

[Lord Spitfire]

This is a fic in which I attempt to depict the epic tale of KotOR into fanfic form. I have played around with this idea for a bit, until I finally found the right ingredients to make a KotOR story that best reflected how I saw the story.

 

Well . . . enjoy!

 

 

Star Wars

 

Knights of the Old Republic

 

Conqueror, Saviour

 

 

Chapter One: Endar Spire

 

Kale moaned as he felt a jerk in his bed. This whole ‘night’ was an uncomfortable blur of slipping in and out of consciousness. There were times when the entire bed was shaking, but Kale shrugged that off; he was way too tired. However, heat started to pour into the room. Sweat started to trickle down his face, but he moaned again. Then, he started to suffocate; the air simply got thinner and thinner, until finally he woke up with a jolt.

 

What the hell? There was something wrong; his eyes were watering. He quickly wiped the tears away, clearing his vision as he noticed his surroundings. Something was definitely wrong, all right. The entire room was on fire; he could barely make out the door through the smoke. A sudden fear gripped Kale, and without even thinking, he made a dash for the door. Once he reached it, he groped around for the button, but the smoke was too thick. He started coughing spastically as his voice filled with ash and his entire being gripped in fear.

 

“Open the door! Please, I’m in here, open the damn door!” he croaked desperately. Flecks of flame made contact with him from time to time, and it was getting hotter. Just as he was about to utter his final scream, the door slid open and Kale tumbled through. His eyes were extremely blurred from smoke, and he could barely hear. It was then that he felt a firm pair of hands grab onto him tightly and pull him up to his feet. Then, there was the sound of the door closing.

 

He felt hands that weren’t his own rub his eyes clean, and he found himself in a hallway, next to a burly man in a Republic Navy uniform. Kale gasped for breath as he sagged against the wall, trying to catch his breath. After a second, his eyes fell on the man with the Navy suit. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice still recovering.

 

The man held a passive, yet stern expression. Kale noticed fiery, charismatic eyes fixed firmly amidst strong features. “My name is Trask Ulgo, Lieutenant-Commander in the Republic fleet. The Endar Spire has been assaulted by Sith forces from the Interdictor ship orbiting the planet,” he stated simply. His voice was loud and aggressive, causing Kale to suddenly focus. “I have a private room not far from here. As soon as I heard what happened, which was a few minutes ago, I came looking for anyone, so I heard banging on the other side of the door.”

 

Kale sub consciously brushed the black hair out of his eyes. A cold pit of dread formed within him. Suddenly, he remembered something, and the pit only grew bigger. “My bunk mate,” he whispered, looking back at the door.

 

Trask shook his head. “He or she would certainly be dead by now. But we don’t have time for that! Here, take this blaster. We need to make our way to the escape pods!” he yelled sternly.

 

Kale looked dumbly at the blaster in his hands, shaking his head. “No. No way, are you crazy?” he spluttered. “I can’t fight Sith Assault Troopers! I’ve never shot someone in my life!” He shook his head again as panic started to rise inside him. Uncertainty, doubt, and fear was all that he thought.

 

“Get your head straight, soldier!” yelled Trask angrily, causing Kale to somewhat snap out of it. “Either you come with me or die, and I never leave a fellow soldier behind. I’m not going to start now, so either follow me or I’ll drag you along!”

 

Kale nodded. “Yeah, okay,” he said tentatively. He followed Trask until the end of the hallway. However, as he reached for the button, the door wouldn’t open. “Damn it!” growled Trask. “It’s locked! We’re stuck in here!”

 

Kale cleared his mind, trying not to panic. “Wait,” he interjected, “I can open it.”

 

“Well hurry up!” yelled Trask. “It won’t be long until the fires reach this hallway.”

 

Kale shifted himself in front of the door, reached into his windcheater jacket, pulled out a spike, and inserted it into the slot. Numbers started popping onto the screen. Kale scanned it, analyzing everything. He was always good at this, for as long as he could remember. He quickly found the code and entered it.

 

Just as he stood back, the door slid open. The two of them ran through, turned left, and found themselves in another hallway. This time, however, they were not alone. Kale noticed two Republic Soldiers running their way. Both of them had Blaster Rifles. Great; other people for them to shoot at.

 

“Hold your fire!” yelled one to the other. “It’s Trask!” he said in delight.

 

“Sergeant! You’re alive!” replied Trask. Kale looked at the two soldiers. Both of them were wearing heavy armour. He was not an expert on the subject, but he knew that they were not in the Navy, but the army. But why would a frigate on a peaceful trip need Ground Forces?

 

Just then, there was an explosion, and smoke erupted from the next door. Before the two soldiers could even bring up their blasters again, a rain of fire hit them hard, and their dead bodies crumpled to the floor. Kale’s eyes fell on a gap in the wall, and he immediately took cover, pistol held tightly in his sweaty, shaking hand.

 

“For the Republic!” screamed Trask savagely as he rained fire upon two shadowed figures through the smoke. He took one down quickly, but Kale noticed the other was aiming towards Trask.

 

Suddenly, adrenaline kicked in, and Kale leaned over the cover and fired two laser bolts with deadly precision. The figure fell limply to the floor. Trask fixed his eyes on Kale. “You’re a good shot!” he said with surprise. “I thought you said you’d never shot anyone before.”

 

Kale stared at the blaster, dumbstruck. Something had kicked in at that moment. In that split second, he had complete and utter focus, as if he was an expert with a blaster. Was it adrenaline, or something else? He shrugged it off. “Let’s go.”

 

The two moved swiftly through the smoke, and found themselves stumbling into a battle. Four hallways converged to form a large open area. On one side, about four Republic soldiers fired from cover, and from the other, there were god knows how many Sith Troopers. Luckily, Kale found himself on the Republic side. Just as he realized what was going on, he noticed a small object fall in the midst of the Republic lines.

 

Almost instantly, Trask grabbed Kale by the shoulder and threw him down. A split second later, there was a huge explosion, and the screams of four dying men. Suddenly, Kale felt a huge thump in his chest, followed by a sick feeling in his stomach. The heat from the grenade almost burned Kale’s neck. Tilting his head slightly, he managed to see Trask put a finger over his mouth. Nodding, Kale softly dragged himself up.

 

The two backed away into the smoke, close enough to see, and far enough to appear as no more than shadows. Then, they waited as three Sith walked into their sight. Kale felt Trask nudge him. Kale nervously brought his violently shaking pistol to the head of the Sith to the far right, where Kale was standing. If only he could have that same adrenaline rush . . .

 

Kale closed his eyes, and tried his best to focus, to immerse himself in the situation; maybe that would help. He found he did with shocking ease. When he opened his eyes, his and was rocky steady. Without thinking, he fired the blaster.

 

Headshot.

 

Kale shifted his hand just a bit, locking on to the next target. He fired.

 

Another headshot.

 

Shifting his hand a little more to the left, he found that Trask had made quick work of the one on the left. Once the coast was clear, they moved silently into the hallway, making sure there was no one left.

 

As he lowered his weapon, Kale felt his heart thumping rapidly. There was an excitement, an exhilaration inside of him, as if he had just been on an exciting ride. It scared him; was this normal? For people to just close their eyes and suddenly become ace fighters? Once again, he was forced to delay these thoughts, as the two of them moved towards the next door.

 

“Listen,” said Trask.

 

Kale heard blaster fire. A second later, dying screams. He tentatively reached up to open the door, hoping that those were the screams of dying Sith.

 

They weren’t.

 

The two of them were greeted by the sight of a man in a black robe, red lightsaber in his hand and dead Republic soldiers around him.

 

Kale tried to focus again, but he couldn’t. Fear gripped him, it filled him up completely, and it was driven into his brain. He was suddenly left feeling cold, and empty. It was as if this Dark Jedi was using his own fear against him.

 

The Sith raised his left hand, and the two of them were sent hurling against the wall. Suddenly, Kale felt an invisible force clench his throat. He croaked desperately, trying to eke out some breath but none came. He gasped as the hold became tighter and tighter. He brought his fingers up to try and pry the hold open; it didn’t work. He didn’t know how much time past; seconds, minutes, but he stopped struggling, simply letting himself slip away into darkness . . .

 

Suddenly, Kale was released. He fell to the floor, gasping for breath. Looking up, he saw a blue lightsaber protruding from the man’s chest. The Sith fell limply to the ground.

 

Behind him stood a woman in battle robes, with a lightsaber in her hand. Kale sighed as he closed his eyes in relief. A Jedi; they were saved! Smiling, he turned towards Trask. Suddenly, he was no longer smiling. His comrade was pale, lying there with his eyes open. “Trask?” he whispered as he nudged him. “Trask? God dammit, don’t die!” he yelled.

 

“He’s dead,” said a voice. Kale looked up and saw the Jedi. “I’m sorry.” Kale saw her for the first time up-close. She was tall, with black hair and pale skin, as well as the serious eyes that Jed were known for.

 

Kale stared at Trask’s body as the Jedi helped him up. “What happened?” he whispered, still in shock.

 

“The Dark Jedi . . . he must have had a greater influence on him,” she said solemnly. “We have to keep moving.”

 

Kale nodded. He did not know why he felt remorse; he had only just met this man. But he saved my life. He shook off the death and followed the Jedi to the door.

 

“Beyond this door is bridge,” she said simply. “I sense many enemies there.”

 

Kale nodded. “Right . . . I’ll . . . give you cover, I guess.”

 

She shook her head. “I can take them.” Before Kale could even take out his blaster, the door opened. With a yell, the Jedi charged through, quickly cutting down three Sith. With superhuman strength, she jumped across the bridge, where she landed in the midst of a group of Sith. Before they knew what was going on, she sliced them in half with a twirl of the lightsaber, leaving Kale dumbstruck.

 

“Come on, we have to get to the escape pods!” she yelled. Without hesitating, Kale ran after her. They went passed the bridge, and found themselves in a hallway. There were two doors; one in front of them, and one to their right. Kale went ahead to open the one in front of them.

 

“Wait!” yelled the Jedi, but it was too late. In front of them stood another Dark Jedi, a double-bladed lightsaber in his hand. Kale stared at him, shocked.

 

“He’s a Sith Master! I’ll hold him off for as long as I can, you get to the escape pods!” she yelled. Before Kale could react, she thrust out her hand and sent Kale flying back to safety. The last thing Kale saw before the door closed was the two of them locked in a lightsaber battle.

 

“No!” yelled Kale as he got to his feet. “No! No! No!” he growled angrily, helplessly. Alright, focus! he told himself. Don’t let her sacrifice be in vain. Trying to focus, his eyes fell on the door to his right. Just as he opened it, he heard a scream; a woman’s scream.

 

Scared out of his pants, Kale quickly went into the next room, locking the door behind him. Taking a second to collect his thoughts, he leaned against the wall. He was quickly interrupted, however, when he saw a red lightsaber sticking out of the door, moving slowly in a circle. Trying to maintain focus, Kale leaned over to his right, and saw a lone Sith trooper. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes again, and tried to forget all thoughts, maintain only focus and adrenaline.

 

It worked.

 

He opened his eyes, and shifted into the hallway, pistol in his hand. He quickly fried the Sith trooper, then continued running forward into the next hallway, continuing to his adrenaline to focus. A grenade rolled off the Sith Trooper’s body, and Kale quickly reached and picked it up.

 

Before he opened the next door he stopped, grenade in his hand. He took a deep breath; either he did this right, or he blew himself up. He quickly pulled the pin out of the frag grenade, and at the same time opened the door, throwing the grenade through.

 

It exploded on impact. There were apparently two Sith in the room. One lay dead, and the other was crawling on the floor. Kale quickly shot him down. His adrenaline started to wear off. Desperately, Kale tried to focus, to put himself in that same state. It didn’t work. There were footsteps moving quickly behind him. The Dark Jedi!

 

Kale quickly ran into the next room, where he found himself facing a man who looked in his late thirties wearing an orange jacket. To his right, were the escape pods. “Get in!” yelled the man.

 

Without hesitation, Kale sprinted forward and jumped into the escape pod. Taking a peek out, he saw the Dark Jedi running towards them. “Forget about him, get in!” screamed Kale. The man quickly jumped in, pressed a button, and released the escape pod.

 

The last image Kale saw of the ship was of the Dark Jedi staring out at them.

[Lord Spitfire]

Chapter Two: You Cannot Win, Revan!

 

 

Two Weeks Earlier . . .

 

Kale sat passively in his seat, staring at the mirrored wall in front of him. He looked at himself for the first time he could remember, and tried to take in every detail of his being.

 

In the reflection, he saw a man with light brown skin stretched over handsome features, wearing a simple white T-shirt and torn pants. He was tall, about 6’2 maybe, and looked in his mid-twenties, with long black hair falling gracefully to his helpless, aimless eyes. He scoffed. Looks like you’re not too bad-looking, he thought darkly.

 

He had awoken here, in this chair, in his empty, austere room three hours ago. The first two hours he spent yelling, screaming, and crying helplessly. The truth was, his entire being was gone; he had no clue where he was, or how he got here. He was just . . . there.

 

Suddenly, the door slid open. Kales quickly turned around as he saw a tall man in a brown robe walk in and sit in the chair opposite him. The man had a very unique style; the front of his head was completely bald, but the back had rich, flowing hair. His look was topped off by an awe-inspiring moustache. “Do you know who I am?” asked the man. His voice was amazingly deep, yet at the same time smooth and enticing.

 

Kale shook his head. “I don’t even know who I am,” he croaked. “How did I get here?”

 

The man nodded. “My name is Jedi Master Zez-Kai Ell,” he said in that same voice. “And you are Kale Chaal, age twenty eight, born and raised on Coruscant.”

 

Kale nodded. Kale; that wasn’t such a bad name. “How did I get here?” he whispered.

 

Zez-Kai Ell paused for a second. “You are a smuggler, and a criminal to the Republic. Your freighter was caught by a Republic Dreadnought, which ordered you to pull over. You, however, tried to escape and your ship was shot down, knocking you unconscious and giving you permanent memory loss,” he explained.

 

Kale stared at him. “A . . . criminal?” he said softly. “Where am I now?”

 

“You are on Coruscant,” said the Jedi.

 

Kale nodded, taking it all in. “What’s going to happen to me?”

 

The Jedi retained a solid expression. “Because of your special case, it has been brought up to the high council. We have deemed that, since all your memories have been destroyed, you are a different person, and an innocent person,” he said simply.

 

Kale nodded, a lump forming in his throat. “So, where do I start?” he asked tentatively.

 

The Jedi Master nodded. “Yes, we have thought about that as well. We have decided that, even though your experiences are gone, what you got out of those experiences still exists. For example, you will still react to situations like your old self, you are as intelligent as your old self, and you have retained some of the skills of your old self. Skills which are, of course, dangerous to the Republic. We have found out an arrangement that could let you start over, and at the same time rid the galaxy of another smuggler,” he said simply.

 

Kale cocked his eyebrow. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

 

Zez-Kai Ell sighed. “Well, you can now consider yourself working as an . . . agent for the Republic,” he finished. Before Kale could reply, he continued, “You may not know it now, but you have exactly the skills required. There is a Republic Ship called the Endar Spire leaving in about a week and a half. You will board that ship and take the three-day journey to Dantooine, including all the stops in between. It is there that you will receive your next mission,” he instructed.

 

***

 

Present Day . . .

 

Kale stood passively at the end of a hallway. It was the bridge of a ship; he didn’t know how he knew it, he just did. In front of him raged a battle; after a second, the battle was over, and soon four Jedi stood and faced him, lightsabers in hand.

 

He did not know how he did it, but Kale summoned a lightsaber of his own from his belt. A red bolt of plasma erupted from the hilt, and he twirled it around as he got into a defensive stance.

 

“You cannot win, Revan!” yelled the woman leading the Jedi.

 

Revan? Who was that, and why did she call him that? Why was he here, on this bridge? What was going on? Suddenly, there was an explosion, and Kale hurled forward as his head snapped to the floor hard.

 

He moaned in pain. What was happening? He was losing consciousness quickly, and his vision was fading into black. The last thing he saw was the woman leaning over him . . .

 

Kale gasped and jolted upright. He raised his hand to feel his forehead; it was surprisingly cold. He found he was drenched in sweat as he looked around. He noticed he was in a small room, with a window overlooking a large city.

 

“You’re awake,” said a voice. Kale quickly turned his head and saw the same man he had entered the escape pod with; the man with the orange jacket.

 

He sighed and rested his head back onto the pillow. “Who are you?” he said in a tired voice.

 

“Commander Carth Onasi,” said the man, a hint of pride behind his voice. Kale looked into his eyes; they were weathered, ravaged, and carried death on them. Kale was surprised he could . . . feel the reflection of this . . . Carth Onasi’s being through staring into his eyes. At any rate, whatever pride he had was probably well-deserved.

 

Kale let out a deep sigh, lifting his hand to touch his face. He felt the rough beginnings of stubble on his face. Wait . . . that’s impossible! Last I remember, I was clean shaven. “How long was I out?” he demanded worriedly, finally sitting up.

 

“Three days,” said Carth simply. “You’ve been slipping in and out of consciousness still then.”

 

“Ugh,” grunted Kale. Then, suddenly, the events of the last three days hit him. “You!” he hissed, pointing at Carth. “You’re the guy who I went into the escape pod with!”

 

Carth chuckled. “Yeah, that was me. Saved your life, too,” he added.

 

“What . . . what happened?” Kale whispered.

 

A sigh escaped Carth’s lips. “Well, our escape pod crash-landed here in the upper city of the planet. The planet’s called Taris, and it’s a Sith occupied world. Anyways, I managed to slip away from the scene and drag you to this abandoned apartment.”

 

Kale reached up and rubbed his forehead vigorously as an ear-splitting headache stabbed him. All of a sudden his throat was filled with a bitter taste and his stomach jolted. “I feel sick,” he grimaced.

 

“You’re hungry,” assured Carth. “I know how you feel. Seven years ago, I was stuck in a trench on Dxun for four days with no food and little water, constantly under heavy fire from enemy forces.”

 

Kale’s heart sank as the thought of food flooded his mind. He suddenly realized that he could eat a Bantha.

 

Taking the hint, Carth passed Kale a piece of what looked like stale bread. Usually, or in the last two weeks of his existence, Kale would have furrowed his eyebrows and said, “What the hell is this crap?” But today, he gobbled it down in seconds. He felt slightly nourished, but still ravished, needing more.

 

“Water,” rasped Kale desperately, to which Carth tossed him a bottle of water, which he drank in no more than a couple of sips.

 

Carth sat simply as Kale swiftly devoured his meal. For a few seconds, that was the only sound in the room, and Carth had to admit that it was slightly irritating. “So, what’s your story,” he asked to finally break the drought of dialogue.

 

Kale wiped the water and sweat off his face with the blanket. “None of your business,” he said with distaste. However, he ended up sounding like a spoiled child, and as soon as he heard his own voice he berated himself. He sighed, finally putting his bare feet down on the cold metal floor, moving his toes to get some circulation. “Look,” he said in a calm yet slightly irritable tone, “no offense, but the Galactic database knows way more about me than I do.”

 

Carth cocked his eyebrow. “What?”

 

Kale sighed. The past two weeks, he hadn’t thought about his situation at all; in fact, he had tried not to. Whenever the thought entered his mind, he felt pained, as if his entire life was ripped from him. “Well . . . I woke up two weeks ago in a strange room, and I couldn’t remember anything. Then this . . . Jedi Master came in and told me that I was a smuggler, and had gotten a severe injury trying to outrun the Republic,” he said as quickly as he could, like he was ripping off a bandage.

 

Kale had expected a gasp, but all Carth did was shrug. “Well, that’s certainly new. If you expected me to be shocked, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you; I’ve seen a lot,” he said solemnly.

 

“Huh,” said Kale nonchalantly. The other man’s reaction helped him a little, calmed him down, pushed him back into the shadows. “What about you?” asked Kale, if do nothing else but make conversation with a man he would probably be stuck with for a while.

 

The Republic Soldier’s face hardened. There was a painful pause in which he stared aimlessly out the window. “I told you; I’m a Captain in the Republic Navy; I was a Commander and later a first Lieutenant during the Mandalorian Wars, and I received the Cross of Glory for my services,” he said stiffly, his eyes still out the window.

 

Kale raised his eyebrows. This guy definitely had some issues. Whatever they were, he knew not to push it further. Instead he got up and looked at his reflection in the window. He was wearing a black windcheater jacket, and black leather gloves, and usual pants that were . . . black. The only difference from when he was on the Endar Spire was that he now had a little bit of stubble; he realized it went well with his long hair and light brown skin.

 

I must have been obsessed with black before I lost my memory, he thought slightly humorously. At that moment, he remembered his dream. He did not know why, but his heart quickened; it scared him. “Revan,” he said softly.

 

Carth turned around. “What?”

 

“Revan,” repeated Kale, deep in thought. “Revan led the Jedi to aid the Republic against the Mandalorians. He then gathered his fleet, they went into the Unknown regions to hunt down the Mandalorians, and then they assaulted the Republic,” he said to himself.

 

Carth looked at Kale sceptically. “Yeah, so what?”

 

Kale looked at Carth. “How come I remember everything about Galactic history and what’s going on, but nothing about myself?” he whispered.

 

Carth cocked his eyebrow. “I’m sorry to interrupt your little reverie, but Bastila Shan killed Darth Revan three weeks ago; it’s been all over the news.”

 

Kale groaned. “Never mind, then. I was just thinking things I probably shouldn’t have been. Wait, wasn’t Bastila the commanding officer of the Endar Spire?”

 

Carth grunted. “Yeah, she took my place because she was a Jedi,” he said slightly angrily.

 

Kale sighed. “Something’s wrong here; this has to be connected.” He was about to share his dream, but chose better of it. “We have to find her,” he said simply, and for the first time with unmatched resolve. He didn’t know where his assertiveness came from; it was as if his mind was trying to keep it down, but it resurfaced.

 

Carth nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. We have to get off this planet, but to do that we need to find Bastila.”

 

Kale nodded.

 

It was decided.

[machievelli]

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