Oblivion
XXX
They stood on the roof of the terraced spire. Below, Coruscant spun, with its lights like a billion tiny smiles. The city churned with life, and hope, and promises; just like Carth had promised her what felt like a century ago: atop a doomed platform on a dying station, orbiting a world with no name.
But Revan's face felt raw and exposed. And every nerve urged her to flee.
...
Revan took a deep breath. "Carth, when I thought I was Polla Organa, I thought I knew how to pilot a ship, man a gunner turret, race a swoop bike, and drink an entire bottle of Tatooine wine. But when I tried to do those things…."
"You were terrible at them." Carth tried to laugh, but it came out choked. He raised a hand to her cheek, pulled her closer. She felt his heartbeat through the horrible sequined dress uniform. His lips pressed against her forehead. Almost a kiss.
He'd shaved, and he smelled like something expensive and citrus, not as she remembered.
"The things that Revan knew how to do came easily to me. So easily that I stopped wondering why I knew how to use a lightsaber, why I could do things with the Force no master ever taught me, why I knew languages…. And then, when I learned who I was, I didn't want to be her, but I was her. I am her. I don't remember half of what she was, but I think like her, I fight like her."
She felt his breath on her cheek, his lips next to her ear. His cheek was smooth and that was all wrong for him. His arms tightened around her, sure as a vise.
Now is the part where you're supposed to say you love me, love me as I am, Carth.
But he said nothing.
The enormity of what she'd risked, what she'd done to get to this point, made Revan want to face down Malak a hundred times more. Their battle had been simple by comparison.
XXX
Chapter One / Kiss the Sky
"Wake up."
Something was making a hell of a racket, like fifty prox alarms on a Huttese freighter all at once. Whatever it was interrupted the dream Polla had been having that featured her ex, Therion D'Cainen, being tortured in some kind of weird red and black holovid prison, complete with whips, interrogation droids, and a helpful dozen sents with red laser swords, just standing around waiting to chop bits off.
It was a good dream considering the way Therion had tried to set her up for the failure of that spice run.
Polla Organa chuckled darkly when they cut off his legs for the third time, listening to his comical scream-
"Wake up," the voice repeated.
"Go away," she told it and pulled the pillow over her head.
"Wake up," the stubborn voice insisted again. Weirdly, it seemed to echo through her skull. Someone shook her shoulder. Hard.
Polla Organa opened her eyes to flashing lights and the claxon sound of an alarm.
"The hell?" Her head ached when she sat up, but that was familiar-ever since the head injury where she'd hit the wall two hundred meters up on Janstak's Canyon. The head injury, which had led to the Republic hospital on the warship orbiting Deralia, which had led to Nurse Shan being her nurse, which had led to the Republic recruitment spiel... and then to Polla's enlistment into this fracking war that wasn't even her problem in the first place.
"Surprise." The guy looking down at her had a harsh Rim accent, some kind of Fleet Officer stripes and a very tense expression on his face. He also, Polla noted, had a blaster in his right hand. It wasn't pointed directly at her, but it wasn't far off.
"Trask?"
They were in close quarters on the Spire, so close that they shared bunks with opposing shifts (probably due to the number of fracking Jedi mystics they'd shoved on board); but she could have sworn her bunkie was blonde and kinda steely. This guy had brown skin, but pale, startlingly yellow eyes like he was part Cathar.
Is that a thing, being part Cathar?
"Trask," the man repeated, making the word almost a question.
He had thick eyebrows and close-cropped black hair. He'd be handsome, Polla thought, if he looked healthier; but there was a grayish cast to his skin. When he frowned like he was doing now, the lines around his mouth cut like knives, drawing his mouth into a grim expression, maybe even a little scary.
"What have you done to your hair?"
He reached out, as if to brush it out of her eyes, and Polla sat up fast, scooting back out of reach.
"Not so fast, guy! Are you looking for Trask, or for me? We work opposite shifts so he's…" the alarms were really distracting. They made her head hurt even more than usual. "He's probably at work now. You should leave." Before I shoot you.
Polla looked around for her blaster, but the holster wasn't on top of the pile of clothes she'd worn yesterday and-weirdly, she… she couldn't remember where she'd put it.
Da would kill me if he knew I forgot where I put my gun. He'll kill me anyways, for enlisting in a Republic war, but if he learns I lost my blaster I'll never hear the end of it-
And that was when Polla realized she was still in her skivs. Not that she gave a frack, but this not-Trask guy seemed to be eyeing her skin like he'd never seen a woman before. More than a little creepy.
"Trask," he snorted. "Trask Ulgo? Really? The Alderaanian? Is he what life among the Jedi has driven you to?"
"We're not exactly on a first and last name basis, me and Trask." Polla didn't like the way his eyes were looking at her. But she was relieved he was here for Trask and not because he was some kind of insane killer who snuck into women's rooms when they were blissfully asleep. "Can you turn off that fracking alarm? It… it hurts my head."
"No." The leer on his face vanished so fast she wondered if she'd been mistaken. "I didn't just come here as an amusing diversion. The Endar Spire is under attack."
Polla snorted. "Yeah, right. We're in hyperspace. You sure it's not a drill?"
They had a lot of drills in this Republic Fleet, aboard the Endar Spire. Like almost every day she had to run through the ship, find Nurse Shan, and stay with her to protect her. Like Nurse Shan needed Polla Organa for protection against nothing when she had a freaking Jedi army. Plus the soldiers? It was kind of ridiculous overkill, considering they were never fighting anything, or landing anywhere, except... except that one time. But that had been... n-nothing, really. Not important.
That planet wasn't important. The important person is Nurse Shan. When it's an alarm and there's a drill I have to go find her-I have to go find her-
And Polla would find her as soon as this stranger left.
Polla had only been conscripted into the Republic Navy for like a week… or… maybe a few months, but she already had realized they were a laughingstock.
Da had been right all along. Who knew? The Republic were idiots. Pathetic fools.
He's going to kill me. My Da's going to kill me. He must be pissed. That's why I haven't heard from him or Ma since I enlisted-
"We're not in hyperspace now." The stranger smiled again, a teasing smile, almost flirtatious-maybe sly. His mouth was a little like Therion's-like a knife. "Not anymore. Your ship's under attack."
"Trust me; it's not my ship. Anything this big leans like a ronto on sleep derms. Wouldn't be caught dead flying it. Hey, are you hurt?" There was a charred patch on the jacket of his uniform, like an almost perfectly circular burn. Looked nasty actually; the cloth was stained, but the skin she could see underneath seemed okay.
"Would you care if I was?" His voice was light, but his eyes kept scanning her face as if he was looking for some kind of reaction.
The ship took that moment to lurch violently to one side, sending Polla stumbling across the floor, and into the corner of her footlocker. It collided painfully with her shin. "Oww! What the hell?"
"If your ship's captain continues his foolish attempts to set up a passive orbit around this planet, we will all see hell. Quite soon." The man laughed as if that was funny. "The two interdictors that pulled the Endar Spire out of orbit have set up opposing tractor beams. Currently the Leviathan and Demon Moon are pulling your ship apart." He sounded more amused than horrified. Was it a joke?
"Sith?" Polla snorted. It's not my ship, asshole. "Yeah, right. Those has-beens? They… they're fracking idiots."
"True. They're not what they were." Not-Trask moved fast when he wanted to, reaching her side in a heartbeat and taking her arm. "But their efforts will, in a short time, tear this ship to pieces. We should leave."
"I can't."
He raised an eyebrow. It was bisected by a faint scar, very dark above his yellow eyes. "Can't?"
"I can't leave. This ship is safe." This ship is safe. How many times has Nurse Shan and Ensign Trask said that? This ship is safe. "There's a ton of Jedi. And soldiers. I have to stay here. I'm supposed to stay here. What's your name?"
"Revan," he reached down and pulled her to her feet. His hand was cold, very cold. "You should get dressed quickly. We need to leave."
"Revan," she scoffed, jerking away from him. "Don't feed a load of bantha poo to a banthashitter. You're not Revan. She was a woman. And she's dead."
He stared at her for an uncomfortably long time, long enough for Polla to become aware of her skivs again, and the strange cold in the air.
Could be a vacuum leak, if he's not lying about the tractor beams. If the hull gets compromised, we're fracked.
"I assumed you were joking," he muttered. "She warned me, but I never thought-"
"Nurse Shan warned you?" Polla nodded. "She warns me about things a lot too. She's nice. Very conscientious. "
"I can barely even sense..." he stepped back slightly, that blaster still held loosely in one hand. "If he sees you like this, or if the others…. Bandon's here. And Beya. Xaset… not all your old friends are still as loyal as I am."
Polla swallowed and took a step backward. "Hey… just putting it out there, but maybe you're fracking nuts? I don't know any of those people."
The ship rocked again, and half the lights cut out entirely. She ran away from him, fumbling with her footlocker, scrambling for clothes.
Her gun wasn't there.
Da will kill me for being so careless. I had it. I know I had it when I hit the canyon wall-
"Something might be wrong with the ship," she admitted. "Come with me. Let's go find Nurse Shan."
"Nurse... Shan." He laughed. "Of course! By all means. Lead the way."
"I will." Polla grabbed a shirt, but in the dark, she'd lost one shoe. Given they were about to die, she abandoned the other too, scrambling to her feet and heading towards the door. It would be locked, of course, it always was, except when Nurse Shan needed something, but-
But this time it opened before she even reached it. Weird. Even more strange, the lock looked like it had exploded open.
Polla froze, suddenly aware of the stranger's breath on the back of her neck. His cold hand closed around her shoulder. The other one nudged her hip with the gun.
"Go," he whispered in her ear. "I'm quite interested in the talk we'll have with Nurse Shan."
"Did you do that?" she asked him. "The door is supposed to be locked at all times."
"Did I-what in nine hells have they done to you?" his evil act seemed to crack, as she turned around, pulling out of his grip again, halfway in the hall.
"Scout Organa? Is Ensign Ulgo with you?"
The comm on Polla's wrist chimed, with a miniaturized figure of a man appearing. Tousled hair, stubble, looked like one of the career poster boys Polla had seen in the officer's mess.
"Our hull integrity's down to nothing, and t here's a Sith boarding party already aboard . Bastila Shan made it out in an escape pod, but she left me strict instructions to get you two off safe. We three are the last in this deck-Sith bastards have sealed everyone else off-"
Mister Officer continued with his explanation about how they were totally fracked. Over and over. Until Polla wanted to puke.
Dying in space. I don't want to die like this. Vacuum. Every spacer's worst nightmare-
"Trask isn't here," she finally interrupted. "But there's… this other ensign came to get me. He's… he might be kind of nuts. I think we'll need Nurse Shan. I need to find her, even if this isn't a drill. Okay?"
"Another ensign? Well, good. That's… good. We don't have a lot of time. They've got lightsabers; they're cutting through sections-and personnel. Most everyone's pinned down in C-deck, but the Jedi promised reinforcements. The three of us don't have time to wait. Make your way to the escape pods off the bridge. Now."
"Sure," she said. "I'll-I'll-where's the bridge?"
"What?" Republic guy's voice cracked. "Are you kidding me? They brought you in as some kind of nav jockey, I heard, and you don't-"
"I know where the bridge is," Ensign Not-Trask whispered in her ear. "Tell him we'll meet him at the escape pods."
Don't tell me what to do! I should know where the fracking bridge is; this is a starship! I'm a pilot. "I'll tell you that we'll meet you at the escape pods," she said out loud. Her voice felt strange and wooden, compared to her emotions.
The guy on her commlink looked like one of those Republic recruiting posters too. And that pissed her off.
These brave men and women are the heroes of our age. Don't you want to be one of the heroes of our age? Save the Republic. Save the galaxy.
And even if you say no, they'll drag you along anyways. Kriffing losers.
Polla cut the comm, even though the guy was still talking, something about directions to the bridge. Whatever. Not-Trask said he knew.
"Maybe we should surrender to the Sith," she told the guy who wasn't Trask. "My Da always said the Sith had the right idea. At least about some things."
The alarms rang again in time with her aching skull. She wanted them to stop.
Stop, she thought at them.
Not-Trask Whatever blinked at her. His nose was curved, like a talon. He had a cleft in his slightly-pointed chin. He shifted the blaster in his hand, holding it awkwardly as if he had no idea what he was doing.
"We need to go," he said, more gently. "Scout… uh, Organa, they've ordered a ship-wide evacuation. You heard the man. The Sith are boarding-"
"Oh, I get it." Polla should be afraid, probably, but her head hurt and this was so damned typical with the kind of fracked year she'd already had. Here she was, on her first assignment, and it had already gone wrong. Like the fracking kanna mites and Therion all over again. "You know I'm not even a Republic citizen? I'm from Deralia. Just because I had a head injury and you guys had medics… and then you made me sign on! But you can't tell me what to do! I'm not some kind of conscript. Nurse Shan said I'm a highly trained professional. I know languages. Lots of languages. And… navigation. Like that guy… like that guy said."
Nurse Shan probably meant to tell me about the navigation later.
"Nurse Shan," he repeated. "Right. She wants you to go. Now. To the escape pods. Like that man said."
"Hold your hessi." She'd only managed to throw on the shirt. She was well aware he was staring at her skivs (even if his cold-eyed Selkath imitation was more creepy than a compliment).
Polla walked back to fish through the footlocker bolted to the wall. A holographic image of an old man and woman was taped to the inside top. They beamed back at her with toothy, frozen smiles. Their heads were shaved at the sides, and their hair identically piled into loose tails on top of their head.
Vaguely ridiculous.
Like Bey-an aberrant thought, Polla noted, even as she pulled out the more familiar coverall beneath. She dressed fast, still staring at the picture.
The picture was strangely out of place.
Beya. Her mind scattered like a scratched holodisc. She ripped the holo out of its frame and shoved it in her vest pocket, glancing up and seeing a reflection of her own image in the ferraglass porthole.
Hair, shaved at the sides, the top falling into her eyes. She reached for a tie to tie the top knot-
I'm so fracking pale. She looked down at her own body, suddenly dizzy. Her skin looked like it was breaking out in reddish spots on her arms and her eyes were-
"My name is Polla Organa," she muttered to her reflection. It always made her calmer to say it out loud. "My name is Polla Organa. I am a smuggler from Deralia. My name is Polla Organa. I am a smuggler from Deralia…."
"Blast, they've egg-rotted your mind!" Ensign Not-Trask's hand closed around her arm. "Look at me! Look at me!"
"Let go!" She lashed out with a foot, half-tripping him, but the bastard was faster than she expected-really, stupidly fast-like he was stimmed to fracking Sleheyron and back-and then he had both her arms in his grasp, was staring down at her like he-like he was Therion and thought he still had the right.
"I said, let go," she growled at him. "Now."
"You even sound Deralian," he said, like that was a surprise. His eyes were really yellow. Could he be part-Cathar? Was that a thing?
Polla's knee jerked up and got him in the choobs. The resultant relaxing of his hands and startled 'oof' allowed her to step away.
"I am Deralian," she snapped. Asshole. Just like Therion. "And on Deralia, we don't frack around."
Instead of looking injured or pissed, the man smiled. "I see."
"Do you?" she snapped. "Because the Jedi will save us. We just need to find Nurse Shan."
"I think we should look for her separately," he murmured. "I may… I may have made a mistake."
"Oh." Was it the kick to the choobs? Polla still didn't regret it. "I'm a crack shot," she offered. On Trawler deer and targets. On shooting holes on some spacer's kit a millimeter from his stupid lying nose-but I bet I can shoot Sith too. "Have an extra pistol I could have?"
Not-Trask glanced back and her a thin-lipped smile. "No." He took a step backwards, bowing slightly. "Good-bye, Polla Organa, I don't expect we'll meet again."
"Good riddance." She folded her arms and feigned checking her chron. "Not-Trask whoever you are."
"I'm Davad." He was frowning again, staring at her. "Davad." There was a long pause, as if after practically abducting her, and not being able to shut off the alarm, he expected a compliment for one of the most boring fracking names she'd ever heard.
"It's a nice name?" she finally offered. "What is that, Corellian? My family's from Corellia if you go back like four generations, before they founded the Outlier Colonies-"
"Good-bye," he repeated. "Good luck finding your bridge."
"I don't know where it is." Polla blinked her eyes. When she opened them, Davad was already gone.
"The hell with you then," she mumbled.
The ship rattled ominously. Alarms rang. Stop, she told them in her head. Stop ringing.
For some reason, that didn't work.
Xxx
The world lived in flashes, in time with her beating heart and the Spire's failing electrical grid.
There was a dead guy, wearing a Republic uniform, about a meter into the hall. Polla hadn't noticed him at first-she'd thought he was just debris-there was debris, scattered all over the hall.
Dead Guy was in pieces.
At least three. And they were still smoldering.
The… the smell hit the back of her throat, and Polla felt herself gag. Her stomach heaved. Behind the first, she saw another body. Only this one had been stripped, as if someone had killed them both and then stolen this one's uniform.
Or he was in his underwear and barefoot already.
Polla looked down at her own bare feet, totally seeing how that could happen.
Frack, as a smuggler, sometimes you saw bad shit. There'd been that one time, back on Ryloth when she'd accidentally wandered into the backroom of a slave auction, but this… this was….
It's just death. The thought was so detached that it didn't feel like her own.
"I'm going to be sick," she whispered, and was, violently and noisily, behind the bulkhead.
"This is Captain Carth Onasi," the voice on her wrist said. "What happened to Ensign Ulgo? I was tracking two life signs on your unit. Now I just see yours."
"He left," she muttered into her wrist. "Wasn't Ulgo anyway. I don't know who he was."
"Oh." Captain Carth Onasi sounded nonplussed. "Then... this is him... here. I see it now. He's close, close to you, but there's a bunch of Sith between you guys and me. I don't know how much combat training you've had..."
There was something metal on the floor next to the dead guy. A small snub nose repeater. Polla grabbed it. Captain Obvious kept talking. Blah, blah splice. Blah, blah rewire something...
Dead guy's arm was a meter off from the rest of him. And beyond that-what looked like a blaster rifle.
She had a rifle, had always carried one: a Czerka repeater with a chip on the handle that jammed when you spent the sustaining clip too fast. She'd had it in the speeder… bike… before she hit that canyon wall, trying to impress Seiran Wen, of all people. Like it mattered what some farmer's kid she'd known since they were five thought of her.
A shot winged across the room, with barely a millisecond warning. Polla screamed and dropped to the ground behind a broken crate.
"You okay?" Captain Carth Onasi interrupted himself to ask.
As helpful as dear old Davad. Mister, I-don't-expect-we'll-meet-again. I'll-see-you-in-fracking-hell, Mister Davad.
"I am not okay," Polla whispered to herself. To the comm. To the galaxy. "This is not okay."
"Scout Organa?"
"It's Polla," she mumbled.
Another shot winged over her head, then a whole barrage of them. When Polla tilted her head through a crack in the crate, she could see an armored soldier, wearing that silver crap made famous in every anti-Sith newsvid that Nurse Shan had ever made her watch. And the soldier was shooting at her.
"Stop that," she muttered, whispering a prayer to the Grass Priests. She peered around the edge of the crate and fired back with the snub, only to be rewarded with the crate crumpling like plimsi. Something like white-hot fire skimmed her arm and she screamed. "Stop!"
The soldier laughed, a crackling noise through his helmet's speaker.
You're laughing when I'm dying?
No. Not like this!
Polla closed her eyes, raising the blaster high, and firing in the Sith's direction at random.
At least I'll go down fighting, Da would be proud even if this is fracking stupid-
Suddenly, something cracked: a crashing noise, and then one of the conduit pipes running above her head detached itself from the ceiling, sparking dangerously. Sparking-
The pipe fell someplace in front of her, and the Sith's laughter cut out with a scream.
Polla peered cautiously above the bulkhead and saw that the soldier had been electrocuted by the loose converter line.
That's lucky, she thought, and then felt guilty. Guilty for the schutta who was trying to kill me?
She scrambled to her feet, wiping her mouth and went for the bigger gun. The severed hand that still held it didn't seem to want to let go. She had to pry the fingers off. The place where it had been cut from the body was blackened, slightly charred.
Cauterized. Methodically. Not torn off by a madman at least-
Like that's better? Polla wanted to puke, but the weight of the rifle was reassuring in her hands.
The ship rocked, the lights flashed. "Still with me?" Mister Republic. Captain Republic. "Scout Organa? Polla?"
"I think so," Polla muttered. Her arm hurt like frack, but a part of her mind categorized it as inconsequential. Just a burn. "Where's the damn bridge?"
"I'm tracking your position. Bridge is to your left. Careful. More life signs ahead. You're gonna need to find some way around-"
A red laser sight swept through the doorway, and Polla ducked, flattening back down to the ground, rolling for cover.
The beam seemed too slow. Seemed to... ripple. It had to be some kind of hallucination, as it made no fracking sense at all that a disrupter could fire that slowly.
Instead of dead, Polla found herself flat on the floor, behind a wall of broken crates.
"What's your location? Did you find Trask? He just patched in to me. Said he's on his way. Said we need to sit tight, sister."
"I am not your sister. They've got a sniper," Polla told him. "Help?"
"I'm trying, but Trask is closer. His tracker's practically on top of you-"
Polla peered above the crate, leveling the blaster rifle carefully.
Normally, on a normal day, when she wasn't on a ship being attacked; when the gun she was shooting wasn't an utter piece of crap, Polla could have handled this, maybe. Imagine it's just a trawler deer. Just like hunting, and you're safe behind the blind-
But for some reason, her shots went wild today and the target blurred.
"Hell!" she cursed. "This gun is a piece of crap!"
The door slid open abruptly, bringing an arctic chill with it, like the air around them was suddenly freezing and cold.
Words died in her throat. Cold, like-her mind slipped away from the comparison, like feet skidding on ice. Polla could have no more moved than she could have screamed. The door opened, and death walked in.
Peering through a hole in the cracked crate, she could see that there were two of them, two deaths: one Human and one Duros, the latter's green skin a strange, speckled gray. Both wore robes, not armor, and carried glowing red laser swords-
They carry sabers. Lightsabers.
"Jedi?" she whispered, almost hopeful, but she knew better.
How many episodes of Nomi Sunrider and Friends had Polla watched on Sixthday mornings as a kid? Enough. Enough to know that these were the real bad guys.
Bad guys always had red lightsabers.
These were Sith. Real Sith. The sniper lifted her rifle out of its brace as if she knew it was no longer needed.
"Hello?" the Human murmured. He was pale, too pale, and almost bald. "Come out, youngling. I can sense your unformed presence. Not the most impressive specimen, but every tool has its use. Lord Malak is making a collection. Come out, little Padawan. Come out-and I'll let you live."
Malak.
Polla knew the name. She knew the name, because it was famous and she wasn't a fracking idiot who had lived under a rock for the past five years... but for a second, that name distorted into meaningless syllables. Mal-Ak. Mal-Eym-Eym-
"Surrender now, child." The Duros had a rusty voice. "Others have. Your masters are doomed, but you may have a better fate."
Living was always preferable to not living. Da always said the Sith were okay, maybe. Maybe they had the right idea. Polla wasn't sure what those ideas could be, but they had to be better than death.
"You won't kill me? You promise?" She couldn't see them very well, couldn't see the sniper at all from this angle.
Soft laughter was the only response.
"No! Okay! I surrender. Sure. Me. The pada-whatsit. I surrender!"
Polla scrambled to her feet before she lost her nerve.
Bluff your way out. Like with Drago the Hutt on Biscayne. No problem. Smile nice, show them the gun but don't point it, don't make any sudden moves at all. Smile. Smile nice. Bluff your way out.
"Excellent. I'm please you see reas-" the Duros broke off mid-sentence.
Polla smiled, holding the blaster rifle above her head, casually dangling it between two fingers, and trying not to freak out. "I am reasonable. Totally reasonable. I surrender. Okay?"
The Human made a little choking noise in his throat.
The Duros deactivated his saber.
A few heartbeats later, so did the Human.
The sniper stood up suddenly, from behind a nest of debris. She was female, small. A Twi'lek under the black targeting helmet that obscured most of her face.
All three of them stood there for another heartbeat.
Then the sniper dropped her rifle. The Duros dropped his laser sword. A detached part of Polla's brain noticed it went out on its own before hitting the ground.
She pushed the hair out of her eyes and stared back at them. "I surrender?" she repeated, dropping the rifle too-to drive the point home.
"Sheris?" The Human seemed the bravest. He was the only one still looking up. Both of the others were suddenly staring at the ground.
Polla glanced behind her to see if a sheris (whatever that was) had suddenly appeared, but there was nothing.
The Human laughed, bitterly, mouth twisting with scorn. "You fools, it's not her, merely Lord Mal-"
Something whizzing and blue bisected his neck, before slashing by Polla's face, close enough that she screamed.
"Polla. Behind me. Now." A man had appeared in the doorway to her left. Robed. The blue thing was back in his hands now-the blue... blue sword-laser. The blue laser sword. The blue... lightsaber.
Polla obeyed, as though her feet were in charge, not her head.
The Human Sith… he no longer had a head. His body collapsed sickeningly.
She'd been shooting blasters since she was five, but not at people. Never to kill anyone-
"Surrender," the man said, amazingly, to the people who'd been trying to kill them a second ago.
The Twi'lek sniper started to kneel, but the Duros shook his head, his eyes a strange yellow-orange in the light-
"Not to you, Jedi," he practically snarled.
Another explosion rocked the ship; this time, Polla fell back, heard the tell-tale hiss of oxygen escaping.
"No," she mumbled. Every spacer's worst nightmare, being sucked into the deep. "We have to get out of here!"
Something exploded, yellow and white from behind the two Sith. When Polla opened her eyes again, the Duros and Twi'lek were just as dead as the Human-and now two humanoid figures in light-colored robes with more damned laser swords stood there in the smoldering wreckage of a broken blast door.
"There she is!" the smaller one said. "With Trask!"
The woman, half a head taller than Polla, brandished a green laser sword. The kid had a yellow one.
"Who's Trask?" Polla didn't want to look at the dead Sith bodies, but she couldn't help it. The sniper hadn't even been armed. Neither had the Duros-he dropped his weapon.
The new Jedi kid-Eosian, maybe-stared at Polla, and she glared back at him. He looked away fast.
"Where is Bastila?" Polla's first rescuer asked them.
"She got away," the woman answered. "Master Levrees insisted she evacuate first. He charged us with getting you all to safety."
"Who's Master Lavrees?" Polla interrupted. "Who's Bastila?"
"Whoa," the Eosian kid muttered. "Seriously? You know Bastila Shan. You see her every single day."
"Do you mean Nurse Shan?"
"Let it be, Jaik," the older Jedi (for they could be nothing else) said.
"Nurse Shan," the older male Jedi repeated. "Nurse Shan sent us to you. Look at me, Polla Organa."
She felt… obliged to. His eyes were a faded blue that reminded her of something. It was difficult to even articulate what. She noticed the gray at his temples, the laugh lines on his face.
"There is no Nurse Shan," he whispered. He had to be four meters away, and there were explosions everywhere, but somehow, his words sank into her skull like an echo.
There is no Nurse Shan. There is no Nurse Shan. No Nurse Shan.
"Huh?"
"Why are you doing that?" The kid again.
"If she is captured, there can be no connection, no confusion, no loyalties for them to abuse-"
The air felt strangely heavy, like an ion storm building.
There is no Nurse Shan. There is no Nurse Shan. My name is Polla Organa and I am a smuggler from Deralia and there is no-there is only Nurse Shan.
"Bastila Shan is my nurse." Polla snapped. What the hell? "She's nice. She's my friend. Where is she? What the frack have you done with her?"
"Stang," muttered the man.
"Ready to give up, Trask?" the woman sighed. "She's resistant. We have to continually reinforce the transfer-"
"Wait. You're Trask?" The sky-eyed man wasn't wearing the uniform. Polla hadn't recognized him dressed like a Jedi. "You're Trask Ulgo! You're my roommate! Why are you dressed like a Jedi?"
"Yes." Trask nodded, deactivating his laser sword. "I am dressed like a Jedi because I am one."
"Oh." Had she known that before? It made Polla feel fracking stupid, finding out now. "They must be really short on bunk space if they have Jedi bunking with the hired help-"
"Polla," the woman said, as if she had a stick up her ass. Her voice gentled, dripping with fake sympathy. "Let's move to the bridge, before this ship explodes."
"Hey, I've got an idea," Polla suggested. "Why don't we get off this fracking ship before it explodes? Sound good?"
"This is Captain Carth Onasi," her commlink cut in again. "What's your loc, Scout? Ensign? I'm picking up a bunch of life signs…."
No kidding, Captain Carth Obvious. "There's a bunch of Jedi here," she noted. "I think they want to stand around and die and not escape. I'll start shooting them in thirty seconds."
Don't back down. Like on Biscayne. Polla kept her fingers steady on her gun.
Trask coughed. "You heard the woman."
The kid Jedi gave a choked laugh. "Rev-"
"Don't," the woman interrupted. "Trust me. The overlay slips and she goes fugue. It's not pretty."
"You don't know Bastila Shan-not yet, but we must find her," Trask told Polla. "We are the first Jedi you've seen. We are your friends. You want to help us. Your name is Polla Organa. You are a registered smuggler from Deralia, aboard the Endar Spire. Our ship is under attack. You have to escape. You want to escape. You want to help Jedi. You need to find Bastila. You need to help us. You want to avoid the Sith."
"What was that about a Sith?" Onasi again. "You're cutting in and out. All I got was Bastila and Sith-"
His interruptions were annoying her. Polla cut him off.
"I know what my name is." Anger spiked, infusing her gut with a strange fearlessness. Why was Trask Ulgo talking to her like she was brain dead? Or a child. "It's Polla Organa, and if you lot are what Jedi are like then it's no fracking wonder the Sith are winning your stupid Republic war-"
"Just come on." One of the other Jedi grabbed her bodily by the arm, pulling Polla behind her like a puppet. "This way."
Xxx
The bridge was blocked by more Sith soldiers. Their visors were all faceless and silver, reflecting the room back at them. Reflecting everything, like fifteen mirrors. The Sith all looked the same: faceless, anonymous. Their weapons leveled simultaneously, a wall of shining, silver, reflecting-
"Stand back," Trask murmured to Polla.
"Sure," she muttered, diving behind the nearest chair. Close your eyes, don't look-
The three Jedi deflected blast bolts back on their aggressors. Three Jedi, versus a squad of fifteen soldiers… and it wasn't even close.
The soldiers all died. Some of them in pieces. It didn't even take minutes.
It was a waste. All of this-
Polla felt another wave of nausea. Sure, she'd been hunting since she was a kid, but this was different. The laser swords cut things. And the smell-
Nobody on Nomi Sunrider and Friends ever mentioned the smell.
"I quit," she said.
"Hira?" Trask ignored her, talking to the female Jedi, the one with dark, almost black skin and hair braided tightly to her head, who had immediately gone to the large nav board and was doing something on the communications array.
The bridge showed the extent of the damage to the Spire. The map projected on the side of one wall was a mess of flashing red, showing where hull integrity was breached, overlaid with yellow, where power was gone too. The pilot and co-pilot were slumped dead in their seats. Other crewmen looked like they'd been thrown against a wall, and then dropped.
The viewscreen was too full of a grayish blue planet's surface, bristling with installations, faintly etched in green.
We're falling, Polla noted. We've lost orbit. We're kriffing plummeting to our deaths.
I'm a pilot. I can save us.
"I can try and pull us out," Polla ran to the yoke. She'd never flown a ship this big, but how hard could it be? Beats dying. Beats falling out of the fracking sky-
Readouts looked bad… her eyes went up, noting the constellations, nearby jump points. The information was useless now-something had pulled them out of hyperdrive, and their engines had suffered complete, catastrophic failures… she could see that from the redlined readouts, the dead patches on the board.
Polla pulled at the yoke, and nothing seemed to change at all. Because the engines are dead. We're dead in the sky. Dead in the sky and it's a race between being blown to pieces or coming to pieces on the way down- "I can fly this," she repeated. It didn't seem true, but she had to try.
"They're holding us here," the kid said. "The ship should have fallen by now. Somehow they're holding us-"
The woman laughed, but it was a hopeless, hollow sound. "They're recruiting, Jaik."
"There's more coming," he said. "Can you… do you feel that? It's so… it's cold."
The kid was right. Polla was suddenly freezing. More coming. More who? Why does it make it cold?
"Get her out of here," muttered the female Jedi. "Now. Pods are just off the aft door. Down the hall."
"I'll make sure Jaik reaches safety," Trask told her.
"No." Hira shook her head. "I can't hold them alone. And you need to stay with her."
"Why did you kill those soldiers?" Polla interrupted. "Can't you Jedi float the ship back into orbit?"
The Eosian kid laughed hollowly. "Maybe you could, if-"
"Don't," the woman said. Quiet, but her voice carried. "Go with Trask, Polla Organa. He will keep you safe."
That's insane. She'll die. That kid will die. What is the life of one kid worth? It's not worth me, I can fracking fight my own battles!
"We should all escape, right?" Polla offered. She was an excellent shot. She had… where the frack was her blaster? She'd dropped it. Somewhere. "Look, just give me my blaster back. I-I know I don't have a ton of combat experience, but I'm a great shot-"
I had the Czerka pistol, I always carried it. Ma must be holding it for me after the accident.
"Go with Trask," the woman repeated. "He will keep you safe. You will do what he asks."
Trask had stepped back, taken Polla's arm, was leaning over the comm board punching something in, presumably last words. To his wife? Did Jedi get married?
It was an odd thought, almost hysterical.
"I will go with Trask," she said. "He will keep me safe. I will do what he asks."
The temperature seemed to drop another few tics, and all Polla could think about was all the air escaping.
"Watch for fugue," the woman added. "Keep her away from mirrors too." She was one to talk about mirrors, with that polished face. Looked like she'd spent all day in front of one. Polla had better things to do.
The thought was random and felt like it had been inserted.
Xxx
Another hallway. This ship was a maze. "Freighters make a lot of sense," Polla told Trask. "It's like engine room, cargo bay, cargo bay, cockpit. Sometimes a lot of cargo bays. Sometimes even hidden ones." What the frack was wrong with her? They might be about to die and she was rattling on about ships. "You know, my Da was a smuggler too, he used to run goods out this far on the Rim. Always said Taris is a cesspool. Not a lot of profit out this far, when sents would as soon gouge you as look-"
"You know where we are?" Trask sounded surprised. "How did-?"
"I know nav charts like the back of my hand." He still had hold of hers, too tightly, like they were kids, like she was his kid, and he was dragging her along by her heels. "So what was the plan? You guys needed me for languages. Someone… I think someone told me that. Or... or flying? Was it flying?"
"Right. We can… we can worry about that later." His head turned sharply, and the chill seemed to intensify. Polla felt something.
Light going out on an overtaxed grid.
"That-that kid." Sick feeling in her stomach. "The woman. The other Jedi that we just left. They-they-"
He was just a kid. She-that woman let him die.
Except the kid wasn't dead. Somehow… somehow Polla knew that too. "The boy-we need to go back for him!"
"We can't. Keep moving."
"I am moving." Polla had never seen this man before, (had she? had she?), but this act, this whole running for their lives thing, it was kind of a bonding experience. She ran to keep up, slightly out of breath.
He stopped suddenly, in front of a door. "Listen to me. You have to find Bastila Shan. When you get to the planet's surface, you have to find Bastila Shan. You can trust Captain Onasi, but you have to find Bastila Shan."
"Bastila Shan?" Her head felt strange, almost feverish. For a second she didn't feel like she was in her own body at all. "I-I had a nurse named Shan, once. I remember."
"No." Both of his hands closed on hers. "No nurse. There was never a nurse. We need to keep moving-"
No nurse. But Shan. Find Shan. We need to keep moving.
The door in front of them slid open, but there was no one there-only another precipitous drop in temperature.
"I have a bad feeling," Polla whispered. Really bad, like a shadow across a sun bad-
And then, like a shadow coming into light, a man emerged, entirely blocking their path.
Trask made a noise in the back of his throat. "Knight Bandon Agare."
The man in front of them had pale skin, and yellow eyes. His dark hair was shaved close to his skull, narrowing to a pointed beard that made him look like a holovid villain. He carried a silver cylinder in each of his hands. And he… the air around him seemed to shimmer. Polla could almost taste his bad intentions in the back of her throat.
This man could be our deaths. This man is dark. Dangerous-
"I see," he murmured, almost conversationally. "Apparently, there is more than one prize aboard the Fleet's most heavily-guarded ship."
"Knight Bandon," Trask replied. "I can't let you leave this room." But he'd let go of Polla's hand, pushing he half behind him. She glanced back, looking frantically for anything that looked like a weapon-
"Knight is a title I no longer hold. It is Lord Bandon now, Darth Bandon."
Trask has a gun. In his holster. Trask was holding a lightsaber, so he probably didn't need it. Polla pulled his gun out of his belt before he could stop her.
"Get back," she warned the Sith, training the barrel down on him. He looked up, giving her a clear target. "I won't warn y-" she fired before finishing the sentence, just like Da had always said to do.
XXX
"You don't want to kill em, Pollie. Just aim for the space above. Pretend you're shooting a goreapple off the top of their head. Get close enough to singe their hair right off-"
XXX
But this time, instead of aiming for the wall behind, Polla sent this shot straight between the Sith's evil yellow-red eyes.
Or would have, except she missed. By at least a meter.
"Frack!"
The Sith looked just as astonished as she did-for a millisecond. His mouth dropped open, and then he laughed, taking a step closer to them. In unison, both of his laser swords ignited. He twirled one, deftly, slowing advancing-
He'll throw the other. He's going to throw the other one if he gets a clear shot at me and he won't miss-
"Next time I won't miss," Polla growled at him, trying to make the best of a very bad situation… while still keeping Trask between her and the holovid villain.
"That hall," Trask murmured, soft, but she heard it-reverberating all the way into her bones. "There. On the left. Find Onasi, Polla Organa. Stay with him and Bastila. You must. Find Bastila Shan."
"Bastila?" The Sith chuckled, deep and dark and something in it was terrifying. Somehow it made Polla want to run. All of this made her want to run.
"Come with me," she tugged at Trask Ulgo's arm.
"Go," he murmured, with his eyes still on the Sith. "Now."
The Sith chuckled again, but softer. "Beya's behind me. And Xaset. Arkan is skulking around here too. At least with me, your prize would get a clean death. I am not burdened by sentiment or lust-"
"Yeah," Polla muttered. "Obviously. You're a real catch, Sithguy."
"Polla." Trask repeated. "Go. Run."
And just like that, Polla found herself stumbling towards the door, still clutching the blaster. It slid open under her touch.
"We destroyed the escape pods," Sithguy said. "There's no escape, Re-"
Maybe not, but Polla was already running down the hall. She heard choked noises coming out of her throat and realized they were sobs.
Lights on an overtaxed grid. Another one winked out. It was cold. So cold.
Trask. That was Trask. That man killed him. That asshole killed him, and he's gonna kill me. I have to find Onasi. And Bastila. I have to stay with them-
Something crashed behind her, part of the ceiling. Polla kept running, feet moving like a footrace on Seventhday, like the kath of nightmares were after her, an entire Exchange goon squad-
"Wait. Stop!" A man stepped out from a side of the wall and into her path. "Wait. Is Trask with you?"
"He didn't make it." Polla stared at him, weird echo in her thoughts. His face, like a fracking recruitment poster for the Republic: solid chin, stubbled jaw. His hand was surprisingly warm on the bare skin of her arm.
"We won't make it if we don't get out of here. They sabotaged all the pods on this side, but I think I've got this one working. If not…" his voice trailed off, looking at her. "If not, it'll be quick."
"I have to find Carth Onasi," she told him. "And Bastila Shan. She's not my nurse. She's a Jedi-I-I think. Are you one. Are you a Jedi?"
"I'm Carth," he said, as if that was an answer. He scanned her face, frowning. "You okay, sister?"
"Not really." Her teeth were chattering. She felt-something felt, like the ship was going, all the air rushing out. Spacer's worst nightmare. "We have to get out of here, Carth Onasi. I'm Polla Organa. I can trust you. Trask said I should go with you."
"Yeah," he nodded, and took her hand, pulling them both into the pod. "You sit here, okay?"
Polla found herself pushed into the drop chair, safeties puffing around her, watching as the guy did the same. Only two chairs on the pod. Their knees brushed.
"We're gonna go fast-" they were already going, the gees drowning out anything else he had to say, anything at all, blurring the world into white and gray. Polla closed her eyes.
Ma, she thought. Mal, I-
XXX
"Deralia. An unlikely planet to conquer. Do we need more farmers in our Empire, Revan?"
"This is Beya's homeworld. She always told me it was beautiful, and it is."
"For now." Davad Arkan slipped his arm around her waist. "Is there to be a ground attack, or is this another one of your tricks, to lure the Republic into false complacency?"
"We'll draw them out," she murmured. "The Republic Fleet has used these Outlier worlds as supply bases for long enough."
"Ah," he said lightly. "And this trap, today… it wouldn't have anything to do with the Hope of the Republic?"
"Do they still have hope?" She chuckled softly under her mask. "Send the signal to Leviathan. Tell Lord Malak to close orbit and join us."
"But that eliminates the element of surprise." Arkan sounded surprised himself. "We only have the flagships in this sector. If the Republic brings more forces-"
"Do you doubt the might of the Sith?" She pushed him away, turning away, and back to the sleeping planet beneath.
"I have no doubts left," he muttered. If she turned, she would see him, half crouched-ready to spring, or kneel. "Master."
XXX
A/N You know, I always thought writing one of these Star Forge narratives would be easy, and it is actually not. This is incredibly referential, possibly spoilerific, but hey. Some of the italicized quotes are from my other ficts, as is some of the dialogue. Some of it's from the game. I hope nothing is from another fict, but that's the other hard thing about writing this: I've read so many. Consider it an homage, if my Polla seems referential. I know she's heavily influenced by Jen Sahara, and all the other unreliable mindwiped Sith Lords out there.
It may be worth noting, before you get too attached, this is prequel to Memory, which means it will end badly. For some. Many. Most. But there's hope in darkness, we build rebellions on it, eh?
Thanks for reading, please review!