Author's Notes

This not-quite-a-novelization of Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic is going to a bit of an experiment on my part. Not only is it going to be the longest thing I've ever written, it's also the first attempt I've ever made at creating a story within the Star Wars universe. This could either be a great success...or it could end up crashing and burning spectacularly.

First things first - if anyone is expecting this to be Inglorious Bosh'tets in a Galaxy Far, Far Away, you're going to be disappointed. Yes, there is a great deal of silly stuff in this story, such as former actor-turned-Sith Lord, and a Jedi Exile who was the leader singer for a band that's the Star Wars equivalent of Black Sabbath, but on the whole it will likely be a bit less crack fic-ish. This is the result of two things - one, I actually have this story planned out, instead of just making it up as I go along as I did with Inglorious Bosh'tets. Second, I feel that Inglorious Bosh'tets and the sequel were like canned lightning - once it's been let out, you won't ever get it back again no matter how hard you try. So if Inglorious Bosh'tets was like Slayer's "Reign in Blood," then this is like their follow-up album "South of Heaven." If I get around to writing a sequel, one that covers the events of Knights of the Old Republic 2: The Sith Lords, it will likely be even more serious still, since I want to do justice to the themes and issues that that game deals with. It will also feature a full-fledged romance arc, something I've never attempted before.

(And just to clear things up for all the people who have sent me private messages: No, I will NOT be writing any more stories set in the Mass Effect universe. Mass Effect 3 was such an awful, awful game that it completely destroyed any interest in have in the series, and I don't foresee anything changing that)

The inspiration for writing this story came from two things. The first was my decision to play the first KotOR again after several years, which rekindled my interest in the Galaxy Far, Far Away after it had been driven into the ground by the awful prequels and the vast amount of rubbish in the EU. The second was my disgust at what Drew Karpyshyn did in his book Revan. Quite simply, that book has no reason to exist save to prop up BioWare's 150-million-dollar boondoggle that is The Old Republic, and to give a contrived reason for shoehorning Revan into the game as a mid-level raid boss. But the worst thing about the book was the Exile's fate, which was absolutely atrocious and rendered much of the events of KotOR2 pointless. Needless to say, I felt compelled, no, OBLIGATED to write something better.

Now, the warnings. First, this an alternate universe story, meaning that a great deal of the original story will be bent, folded, and otherwise mutilated. The reason for this is that a straight novelisation would be boring for me to write, and probably rather boring for you to read. Quite simply, it's much more fun to take a story into places the original never went to, rather than just slavishly copying every single plot point of the original game.

This story includes wanton disregard for the preferences of the shippers and gratuitous cruelty to characters that may or may not deserve it. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is a sure sign that you are mentally ill and in need of immediate treatment.

Please address all complaints regarding this story to:

Former Vice President Dick Cheney
The American Enterprise Institute
1150 Seventeenth Street, N.W.
Washington, D.C. 20036

Prologue – A Space Oddity

A seven-foot-tall Echani, sitting by herself in the mess hall of the Endar Spire. None of the other crewmembers dared to speak with her, going out of their way to sit as far from her as they could. Anyone would have thought her a very attractive woman, with her long, white hair, sharply-chiselled features, and pale, milky-white skin, but any man who saw her was immediately struck by the impression that, should they make any sort of advance on her, they would be rent limb from limb in a very short order.

Her name was Aina Kaamos, and she was one of several "independent contractors" that the Republic had recently hired to aid in their war with the Sith. Most of these "independent contractors" were bounty hunters or smugglers, which only made Aina stand out all the more. No one knew much about her, save that she was from the Echani homeworld of Eshan, and that she had been handpicked for this mission on account her prowess as a warrior. Like most of her kind, she disdained blasters and other projectile weapons in favour of a rather vicious-looking vibroblade, and instead of armour she wore a long, white robe that was elaborately embroidered with silver and golden thread. A single scar running down her face below her left eye suggested that she was no stranger to battle.

Across the room, a pair of ensigns, Rothemden and Tykin Ruoka, were busy discussing the new recruit.

"You know, Suli says that when Echani practice fighting, they don't wear anything except their underwear. Or sometimes, they don't wear anything at all!"

Tykin rolled his eyes. "What? You can't believe anything that guy says."

"He swears it's true. Something about not restricting their movement, or something like that."

"Hmph, sounds like just another one of his perverted fantasies."

Rothemden glanced over at the Echani woman. "Go ask her yourself, if you don't believe me."

"What? I'm not asking her!" Tykin exclaimed. "Look at her; she's a bloody giant! She'd probably rip out my spine and beat me to death with it!"

A few moments of silence passed between the two, before they began engaging in activity well-known to all soldiers: complaining about the people in charge. Specifically, the Jedi who had all but taken over the ship.

"You had a chance to see any of those Jedi yet?" Rothemden asked.

"No, of course not. You know how Jedi are; too good to come down here and speak with a bunch of grunts like us."

"Well I was the bridge yesterday, and one of the Jedi, Bastila, kept getting into it with Onasi. I swear, those two argued about everything like some old married couple. After a few minutes of that I would have gnawed my own arm off to just get away from them."

Tykin snorted in derision. "Typical. You get a lightsaber in your hand, and the first thing it does is turn you into some smug, condescending prick. You should have seen the way my cousin started acting after he joined the Jedi Academy. 'Course, he wasn't so smug after they kicked him out."

Rothemden raised an eyebrow. "Why did he get kicked out? He couldn't lift the rocks?"

"No, he accidentally dropped his lightsaber while it was turned on, and the thing bored its way right to the planet's core. His master wasn't too pleased about that."

"I'll bet! Still, it's hard to believe that they'd kick him out just for that."

"Well, there was more to it than that. Specifically, he got caught hooking up power couplings with a fellow apprentice. Guess the Jedi Council doesn't look too highly upon that sort of thing."

Before Rothemden could respond, they were joined at their table by Trask Ulgo, another ensign, who was bearing a self-satisfied grin on his face. "Hey, guess who's getting the big promotion tomorrow?"

"Congratulations," Tykin replied, without a hint of emotion in his voice.

"That's right," said Trask, taking a seat, "tomorrow you're going to have to address me as Lieutenant Trask Ulgo! How does that sound?"

"Sounds like someone's got a swollen head," muttered Tykin.

Trask ignored his remark. "And that's not all! Me and my fiancée, we just bought this big house on Dantooine! We're moving in after I'm done with my tour of duty. I swear, right now, I feel like I could take on the whole Sith Empire myself!"

"You know, Trask," said Rothemden, "since you're getting married and all, you really ought to consider getting a life insurance policy. You know how dangerous this job can be, what with the war on, and all."

Trask dismissed his suggestion with a wave of his hand. "I'm sure it can wait until this battle's over."

"So, Lieutenant Trask Ulgo," said Tykin mockingly, "have you heard anything about that huge Echani woman over there? We were just talking about her."

"I just heard that she's someone that Bastila wanted specifically for this mission. Apparently, she was impressed by her skill with a vibroblade. Knowing Bastila, that's saying something."

"Yes, well, who cares what she thinks? I'm sick of hearing this bollocks about how that woman's the 'key to our war efforts' and all that. Why should I be impressed just because she can sit there and think happy thoughts to all of us while we're the ones doing the fighting and dying?"

"It's not 'thinking happy thoughts', Tykin," Trask retorted. "The Jedi technique of Battle Meditation can influence entire armies."

"You know what else can influence entire armies? Some decent bloody food!" Rothemden exclaimed, pointing at the meagre rations on his plate. "I swear, this stuff skirts the boundary of what can be considered edible."

Just then, Aina stood up from her table, giving everyone a clear view of her immense height. To the trio's horror, she began walking directly towards their table.

"You should spend less time gossiping, and more time concentrating on the coming battle," she said, her voice imperious and commanding. "And for the sake of your enlightenment, should an Echani woman ever offer to spar with you whilst wearing naught but her unmentionables, then you would do well to be afraid, for it would mean that she has chosen you as her mate, and there is no force in the galaxy that can thwart her desire." She left the mess hall without saying a word more.

"She could hear us?" Rothemden said, a look of horror on his face.

The three of them said nothing more, each one retreating by himself to his bunk in the lower levels of the Endar Spire. None of them were aware that they would all be dead within the following day. Truly, it is the lot of low-ranking crewmen throughout the galaxy to serve no purpose to but to die horribly, so that the danger of the situation may be illustrated to more important individuals.