Star Wars: The Korasa Trial
Prologue:
"Why have you come back?" One asked, silhouetted against the frozen grey sky. The other, taller, darker somehow, stood silent and still, only the telltale fog of his breath to mark him as a living being. Regret and dismay hung heavy about him, met with chilly indifference. The emotions were there, he knew, but they were difficult to sense, muted by the strange icebound stone. The first man watched him and grimly turned away.
He reached the shadowy doorway, silver hair whipped across his face by the frigid wind. The other made no move to stop him, although he knew how easy it would be to kill this man, to destroy him utterly. That power was still within him, long unused, all too easily recalled. He felt it, forced himself to feel it, and drew some small measure of pride from the fact that he would not use it.
A muffled step broke through his reverie and he glanced up. A woman regarded him thoughtfully long hair falling over the tired child she carried. She looked tiny, framed against the wall; an unbroken metal face, save the single high doorway.
"The damage is long done, what else would you do here?" she asked wearily.
"Kisho," he acknowledged, the name returning to him. She studied him a moment longer and smiled sadly, begrudging the pity she felt for him. A lightsaber hung at her side, but with her arms full she had no way of reaching it fast enough. "You never were afraid of me," he said eventually, frowning at the memory.
"Why would I be? The Sith are such contemptible creatures, so wrapped in their own desires that they forget whatever it was they truly wanted,"
"I've changed somewhat, since then, you hadn't noticed? No, I don't suppose you would have," he amended.
"Or been changed," she agreed. "Why else would you be wearing that pathetic face? No; I cannot sense your intentions through the Force, not in the way that you can perceive mine, but we are not so far removed that news of importance doesn't reach us. Your 'redemption', as it's been termed, caused quite a stir," she murmured.
"I am sorry," he said gravely.
"We guessed as much. We still hold the lower levels; it could be years until it happens."
"And the Old-"
"No one holds the Old levels," she cut in, shaking her head. "The heating units failed first, then the air-exchangers and there was nothing to replace them with. Even he would struggle to go through there now, though I've no doubt he could."
He made as if to argue, but checked himself, disquiet evident in the fresh tension across his stance. Once he might have contested her assessment; demanded, in fact, that she explain herself and how such a risk could be justified. The words caught in his throat, reflexive pride leaving behind a bitterness that made his newfound humility all the harder to express.
"How bad is it?" he asked instead, drawing his cloak in against the cold. Kisho set her charge down, one corner of her mouth quirking upwards in wordless approval. The child leaned into her, not truly awake, but shuffling along as the woman moved into the sheltered hall. She motioned for her guest to follow with a brusque jerk of her head, shrugging her hair back in the same movement.
"The Mid-Gates are sealed; unless they open he cannot come at us with any great numbers. But he controls the entire lower hemisphere, potentially growing another half-army every few years. He is limited now, by what the station itself can support." Even in the dim light of the hall, he could see tiredness in her tawny eyes.
Kisho stopped and leaned back against the stark metal wall. Narrow lighting strips ran along the high ceiling; most were failing, illuminating the long corridor in flickering shades of grey. The strip above them had almost died, leaving a few bright points. Her hands worked silently, clenching and unclenching as she considered her answer. Then her expression sharpened in grim amusement.
"We have been officially disowned as an unsuccessful experiment, so at least there'll be no more desperate attempts to retrieve their precious samples. Four ships in the last year, all on the wrong side of the Rift; but without external supplies, we know just how many soldiers he can have assembled at any one time. The Old Levels have been sealed off entirely. He can't come in that way, not without cutting through a few thousand bulkheads without the benefit of air.
"The Hunters have the worst of it, trying to keep the Maintenance Level clear when all their sensors keep failing. He never sends more than a few units at a time – light exercise for our side – but he's got his infantry bred down to the point they're just so many containers for his will. It'll be completely different when he decides to throw the whole lot against us." She spread her hands helplessly, not bothering to brush away the lazy curls that fell back across her face.
"You haven't answered my question, or San's. What do you want?" Her eyes were hidden, but he felt her attention narrowing on him. Ignoring the pointed tone, he moved to stand in front of her.
"I want to help," he replied, meeting her eyes for the first time. She raised an eyebrow.
"How? Arcanys is all but beyond our reach, even for you it would be – oh no," Kisho said, marvelling at the audacity of it. "How dare…You would destroy us twice over?" she snarled, detached air evaporating. "If you confront him now what do you think will happen?" He matched her incredulous stare, waiting.
Her composure returned quickly, made colder for the wait. He felt it coming, the sudden tenseness in the Force, shadows gathering at the edges of his vision, but he made no attempt to stop her.
The greyscale walls were gone, replaced with the artificial light of the Old levels, the Force seethed around him, all terror and rage, emanating from the pale figure before him. And it turned, slowly, the ashen cowl casting the face in shadow but doing nothing to conceal the gleaming white eyes, dead-looking and terrible. The fear was real, choking him as his own folly was laid bare.
"Why did you come here?" The words were spoken quietly, without emotion; the eyes were only gently mocking. Even that was unnecessary as they both knew. Whatever reasons he had chosen for himself and his followers, he had come because he had been called.
The vision changed again, familiar. Red sand danced in the harsh winds around the ancient stone columns, wearing the rock down. A dark figure stood in the eye of it, admiring the ferocity of the storm, so similar to his own strength in battle, corroding everything around him. It pleased him to see the proud tombs of his forebears so reduced. He raised his arm slightly, a negligent flick of his hand stilling the biting wind as he loosened the tarnished mask –
"Please don't do that," he said evenly, dismissing the illusion. Kisho started, surprised by how gently he had freed himself.
"You've improved then," she said eventually. He nodded shortly, jaw set against the discomfort he still felt. Kisho smiled at him sadly.
"Arcanys would destroy you."
A/N - Here is the first of the revised chapters: I decided to go over all of them and improve them since I needed something to do over the holidays, and the original versions needed some work. Hopefully they need less work now; the revised chapters 1-4 will go up soon.