Title: Queen of Air and Darkness
Author: Theano
Rating: M for violence and (eventually) adult situations.
Summary: Tanis Leal is an exile from more than just the Jedi Order. An AU-ish retelling of KotOR 2. Takes place in the same universe as The Black Door, so you may want to read that one first.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to LucasArts, BioWare, Disney, etc., etc. - everyone else is getting paid but me!
A/N: I'm only on the sixth chapter, writing this. When I started posting The Black Door, I was three-quarters done. This... is going to take a while. While the initial few chapters will be up in a timely manner, it may be weeks or even months between new updates. But I'm posting now because maybe making this public earlier will keep me writing more often.
Like the previous story, this is a heavily AU take on the game. If you have not read The Black Door, you may wind up very confused at some crucial times, as some of the AU themes and events in that story are directly related to major ones here. (The end of this chapter, for instance...)
I have not played The Old Republic MMO, nor does that storyline have any bearing on this one.
And finally, if you spot any major hiccups in the writing, don't hesitate to let me know! I am my own beta reader, and although I pride myself on grammar and spelling, sometimes I can fall right through plot holes. A friendly critique is a very good thing.
I. Peragus: Awaken
The door chimed, sending BL-84 skittering to the entrance.
Juhani rolled out of bed as quietly as she could, not wanting to disturb her wife. Bastila had been suffering from her headaches again, and sleep was the only relief.
Their house was dark and quiet, the walls hung with sound-dampening tapestries, windows covered against the bright Dantooine sun. She padded quietly across thick carpeting to the foyer.
"Who was at the door?" she asked the droid, hugging her house robe over her flimsy shift.
"He-" The droid's head jerked to one side, indicating the darkened living room, the hall beyond that led into the rest of the house. "He-" It jerked again, the same motion. "He-"
Juhani's gut filled with ice. From inside the bedroom, Bastila began to scream.
Tanis woke with the echoes of screams in her mind. After a moment she realized where she was - in her own skin, in her own skull, and lying in a cold, sticky puddle.
Convulsive coughs brought a rush of vile liquid up from her throat. She rolled over and sat up, but her hand came down on something sharp; cursing, she dug a sliver of plasglass out of her palm, then watched the cut heal and disappear.
The tank above her had been shattered. If she was going to slice herself open, though, what better place than in a pool of kolto?
Several other tanks in a circle held other bodies, but she didn't think they'd be magically reviving any time soon.
Where the hell am I? she wondered, then winced as a sudden headache demanded her attention. And more importantly, where's a refresher?
Tiptoeing through the glass and kolto, Tanis made her way out into a bare, metal-walled companionway. She felt naked without a blaster, but -
She looked down at herself. The stars hate me, she thought in embarrassment.
"Hey, anyone here?" she tried. There was the sort of faint hum and rumble common to all sorts of ships and stations; the air, beneath the kolto lingering in her throat and sinuses, smelled stale - canned and endlessly recycled. Probably not planetary atmosphere, then.
She palmed a door open to find the berth inside filled with shelves of medical-looking appliances, several inactive droids that looked more suited to heavy lifting than surgical operations, and a large canister labeled for safe storage. A bed complete with guard rails and safety straps confirmed her impression that she'd woken up in a hospital wing.
An empty hospital wing. Where was everyone?
Tanis pried open the canister; inside were smaller crates, all packed with bottles and syringes. Her head pounding, she dug desperately until she found a bottle of a familiar, milky white chemical. Filling a syringe, she dosed herself, lay down on the bed, and relaxed into a dreamless sleep.
She woke hearing the echoes of battle and shot up, reaching for a weapon she would never hold again, before remembering where she was. A breath - two - before she raced for the 'fresher and vomited.
Whimpering, she clutched her head while her nerves howled.
At last she was able to get up and rinse her mouth; she concentrated again on breathing, letting her body catch up to the fact that it was protected again from the old pain, her mind wrapped safely away from agony.
Hunting again through the medical supplies, Tanis discovered a carry sack, which she promptly stuffed with kolto packs and as many bottles of antibiotics, painkillers, and tranquilizers as she could fit. There were two more bottles of kaltheromide; she wondered what this place was, that they needed such a thing. By the time she had reassured herself that she was safe, she had calmed down enough to shower and garb herself in the only clothing she could find, a skimpy hospital shift.
Across the hallway was another room, this one less a private berth and more a small clinic.
The body on the bed was dressed in medical greens, but wore a mechanic's belt. She unclasped it and fastened it around her own waist.
Suddenly she realized that there had been a second body - one she had blithely walked past, selectively blind to its existence. A Force user, then.
She turned slowly, her hand tightening on the plasma cutter hanging from the tool belt.
An old woman, palsied hands shaking as they clutched an equally aged and wrinkled head in obvious pain and disorientation, sat on the cot nearest the door. Tanis knelt down next to her, pocketing the plasma cutter, and took a look at the woman.
"Hey - are you all right? Do you need some help?"
"Help? No, no help, child. Just - a rest. And... where is the doctor? Could you summon him? I believe he said something about bringing my medication." Milky eyes stared up at Tanis blindly. She must think I'm a nurse or something, Tanis thought.
"The doctor... left." She couldn't exactly tell this little grandmother what was going on - not that she herself knew anything about what had happened - but she had to think of something. "There was an accident, and some of the workers were hurt, so..."
"Oh, my, of course, of course. Why, he must need your help, if things are that bad! I can manage, dear, don't worry about me. But - "
"What is it?"
"That nice young man in the security office - we met on the ship, and he stopped by to say hello just the other day - and then yesterday the doctor said he had been locked up! Can you imagine?"
"Would you like me to check on him?"
"Oh, if it wouldn't be too much trouble. I don't want to be a bother..."
"I'll be back, Gran. You take it easy."
Before she left, Tanis made certain to cover the doctor's body, then quietly wheeled his cot out and into the kolto tank chamber with all the other dead bodies. She did her best to lock down the door so the old woman - blind or no - wouldn't be able to find such awfulness.
There had been something about a Force user somewhere in the room? She couldn't remember now, and the old woman certainly wasn't in any danger from Tanis.
She shook her head, and went looking for the security office. Maybe there would be someone in there who could tell her what the hell was going on.
It usually took him about two minutes, give or take, to run through a round of mental pazaak. If the primary player - that was him - was especially smart, or if the opposing player - also him - was especially stupid, it would go a lot faster. Sometimes he pitted two geniuses against each other, and that would eat a good chunk of time. But generally - two minutes. Give or take.
By Atton's count, he'd been in this cell for just over a day. He'd long since given up shouting for whoever could hear him, and was just about ready to give in to his bladder. He knew from unfortunate experience that you could piss against the confinement field of a force cell; the urine would be vaporized, but it left an unmistakable, eye-watering stench.
Twenty-eight standard hours, or thereabouts. The primary player was getting his ass handed to him by the competitor, and Atton was ready to give anything for a shot of juma. Or a whiskey. Or, hell, just some cool, clear water. And while he was dreaming, he'd take a rack of shaak ribs with spiced honey, and maybe some fried twists on the side.
Atton folded; his opponent put on Atton's best screw-you smirk and was ready to deal again, when a contradiction walked into the security office.
He noticed her legs, first - oh, yeah, he noticed that they went all the way up and maybe a little past that. Smooth muscle contoured beneath rich brown skin. She had the body of a fighter, but she was wearing a hospital shift - not that he minded the view. Eventually his eyes worked their way up to a middle-aged face made older by short, prematurely grey hair. And he expected a tall, sinewy figure like hers to have an athlete's grace, but she moved cautiously, as if she had an old injury that might flare up any moment.
"Uh..." he said with all the wit and charm of a ten-year-old farm boy.
"Who are you?" the woman blurted. All charm, this one.
"Atton. Atton Rand. Any chance of a trip to the 'fresher? And maybe a meal or three, plus drinks?"
Her eyes narrowed, but lingered for a moment on the sweat stains under his jacket, and she finally nodded. She palmed the security lock, and the energy field disappeared. Atton took the chance to disappear into the 'fresher cabinet and came back feeling about ten liters better.
His rescuer was holding an unlit plasma torch in a casual grip when he rounded the corner again. He dealt another mental hand, sizing up his opponent.
"So what exactly were you locked up for, Atton Rand?"
He tried on his suave pose. "I beat a few guys at the card table, and they took exception. Security decided to question me about it, then some kind of emergency went down, and they stuck me in the cage. And then you walked in wearing - well, you just made my day a whole lot better." Her expression didn't change - not even an offended scowl. This one, he decided, was going to be tough to crack. "Uh - I mean, I really needed to use the - hey, you wouldn't happen to know where everyone went off to, Miss...?"
"Tanis," she said. She shivered, and he suddenly realized that she looked - off.
"Are you okay?" Funny, it ought to be the rescuer asking the prisoner that, but these things never worked out the way he thought they should.
"F-fine."
"Hey, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," she snapped, "j-just c-cold..."
"I can tell." He tried a smirk, earning a scowl this time as she crossed her arms, and then those long legs of hers gave out.
"Whoa!" He caught her before she could hit the floor. "Look, I'm used to ladies swooning at my feet, sweetheart, but this is ridiculous."
That earned him a slap, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She was a real, genuine, honest-to-Atton, regular human being. "Let's get you to the clinic. Can you stand?"
"B-bag," she whispered, gesturing for the carry sack she'd dropped when she walked in. He dragged it closer; after rummaging through it a moment, the woman pulled out a bottle and a hypo and, scowling at him ferociously, dosed herself.
Great. The most amazing pair of legs he'd ever had the pleasure to encounter, and they belonged to some kind of kriffing -
"Whatever you're thinking, shut it," she snarled. "Help me up."
By the time Atton had escorted her back to the clinic, Tanis was feeling almost human again. But what had happened was a bad sign; she hadn't had a seizure like that in over six months - not since the holocomm message that had sent her to a filthy docking bay in the even filthier Outer Rim hive she'd managed to lose herself in for the past few years.
She couldn't remember what had happened to the message, or her datapad. She couldn't even remember who had sent it, or why it was supposed to be important.
"Kathy" was easy to come by out there, where the failed and fallen of both sides of the last war tried to hide what they had been. Back in something resembling civilization, though, kaltheromide was heavily regulated; only licensed physicians - or Jedi - could legally procure it.
And now this Atton Rand - dangerous, she could tell that much, despite the disarming smile and overdone lines. He was a couple centimeters shorter than her, with stylishly disheveled hair and a roguish grin she might have enjoyed in her previous life. But there was something beneath his scoundrel's flair, something rotten...
Her headache spiked again. She was imagining things. There was no way she could have sensed something like that, not since -
Tanis shook her head as Rand lowered her to one of the clinic cots, the old woman cooing and clucking at her.
The old woman -
The Force user!
Instinct made Tanis thrust out wildly, her mind desperately shoving at the dark robes stooping over her - and against all hope and reason, the old woman staggered back against another cot, sitting down abruptly with a quiet chuckle.
"Ah," she breathed, so quietly that Tanis almost thought she'd imagined it. "You are finally recovering, child. Now sleep," the old woman said, and Tanis thought that was a very good idea, barely noticing that Rand was also collapsing into a cot as if drugged.
"Who are you?" It seemed like Tanis was destined to ask that question first of everyone she met.
"You may call me Kreia. I am no one, really, merely an old woman who has been taking care of you. You may not remember me, but I've been with you for quite some time now."
Rand was still asleep, but Tanis and the old woman - Kreia - were speaking quietly enough not to disturb him.
"Why don't I remember you?"
"The drug - it leaves you confused, forgetful. Fortunately, we will be able to wean you off it now."
A moment of panic gripped her. She needed her meds - the pain - and without them -
"Shhh..."
Tanis felt herself calming, realized it was Kreia's influence, and couldn't help a wash of shame that set her eyes stinging. But the old woman was humming something now, a simple, happy tune, and everything was going to be okay.
It was only right, Tanis thought as she fell back into warm, comfortable slumber, that she should fall so easily victim to Force manipulation. It was the kaltheromide, of course, but it was also justice, in a way. After all, she'd done it to so many people herself. Eventually their thoughts would mirror hers, their pulses beat in time, their will subverted to her own.
Pleading and crying. Screams. Tanis could no longer remember whether they had come from her friends, from those under her command, or from herself. They were fading now, though, replaced by Kreia's gentle voice and touch.
Everything was going to be all right.
Her shins snapped as she screamed in horror and agony, and she hit the stony ground far harder than she should have. The impact forced hipbones from their sockets, fireworks plasming up her spine as vertebral discs shattered. She felt the crack and crunch of her skull fracturing as her head impacted. Still only dimly aware, she was instinctively fighting for breath, but her ribcage had flattened, and even the starburst implosion of her heart brought no relief...
She sat up, struggling with the sheet tangling her limbs, gasping and choking against a terrible, impossible heaviness. Finally Tanis realized that she was breathing again, great sobbing inhales and spittle-flung exhales into air that hadn't been liquefied after all into a boiling, freezing hell.
Voices, hands, the stab of a needle. And then the gentle wash of the drug, making the red blade of pain retract.
She was here and now, and the terror was well in her past, and she would never have to look at it again unless she chose. Except in dreams; except when her nightmare self dragged her mind back into the choices she'd made a thousand years ago.
Funny how all the holovids about heroes winning wars ended happily, everyone riding off into a bright future, starburst nebulae and rainbow sunsets and all that absolute garbage.
Someone brought the lights dimly to life, and then Rand and that Kreia woman were looking at her with concern, and Tanis reminded herself that she was not a three-year-old youngling who needed constant looking after.
"We need to find a way off this rock," she announced, and no one disagreed.
Tanis looked out toward the ventilation control bridge with trepidation. The little droid had reopened the turbolifts, but then his communications had fallen silent. Something must have happened to him, maybe something connected to wherever the occupants of the mining base had disappeared to.
There were plenty of other droids down here, but somehow Tanis didn't think they wanted to help her. They clustered in crevasses and shadows, only their multiple photoreceptors showing - pale gleams blinking with slow, malevolent patience.
Arachnids had always been more frightening to Tanis than other bugs, but these droids were no harmless little spinners. The charred bodies she'd already stumbled over were proof enough of that.
Among all the logs and recordings they'd all hunted through during the past three days, there was an instructional orientation; after all the safety procedures and demolition warnings, there had been a promotional piece on Peragus' development. Apparently, the original miners had thought it would be a good idea to use droids with morphology based on that of Kessel spice spiders.
Because, of course, living in the potentially explosive guts of an asteroid wasn't nightmarish enough.
Edging past another droid, its laser mandibles and many-jointed legs clicking as it followed her movement, Tanis decided that reverence for all life was overrated. The next spinner she saw, she would squash.
She walked quietly across the bridge towards the vent shaft terminal, but stopped halfway there. Lying on the ledge across the vent shaft from her was a corpse. She thought it was a corpse, at least - no one should have been able to survive those terrible burns! - until it turned its head to look at her.
"Help me." Lips moved, no voice coming out of the cracked and blistered face, but Tanis could hear the plea in her mind, burning through her.
A chirring clatter as a handful of droids converged on their victim. She tried to pull them away with the Force, but she was still so weak - and then came the high-pitched whine of mining lasers, the dry, rasping shriek and sizzle of burning flesh -
Tanis made it into the computer niche just in time to avoid a one-way trip down the vent shaft. Her legs gave out as her spine arched, nerves and muscles screaming and spasming as the miner's death tore through her mind, sending her spiralling into darkness...
Somehow she made it into the escape pod in time, but only three others had managed to scramble inside when the ship blew. The force of the explosion hurled the tiny pod away, battering it with fire and debris. There hadn't been enough time to put on the bulky environment suits, and these life pods were supposed to be able to survive a blast like that; but something cracked, and now the air was escaping, and it wasn't supposed to end like this. A last gasp of thin, freezing air, and then everything was empty. There would never be any warmth again.
"Tanis, come in. Come on, talk to me! Where are you, what's going on? Hey, don't leave me alone with this crazy old woman!" Atton glanced over at the crazy old woman. "Uh, no offense."
Kreia smiled. Something in her expression suddenly made him start up a new pazzak game. Both players would be card-counting geniuses, this time.
He turned back to the terminal and tried the comm again. It was going to be a long wait.
The office door chimed.
Carth Onasi looked up from the holocomm message on his datapad. He must have read it fifty times a day, every day for a week, but it never held more than that brief message.
The message, though-that had been copied to at least five other recipients across the galaxy.
His door chimed again.
"Yes?"
A pretty blonde head peeked in. "Sir, you have a visitor."
"I thought I said no calls, Lieutenant."
The woman blinked, nodded, and did not leave. "Yes, sir. But sir - he says his name is Jolee Bindo."