First chapter of The Secret Tomb - 'Dark Powers' . The Exile and her companions, making their way through the darkest caverns Korriban can through at them, come across something they weren't expecting.

Disclaimer - I don't own KOTOR, or Star Wars

Chapter 1 - Dark Powers

Shélla ducked the shyrack's bite and then lashed up with her lightsaber, deftly cutting a long, deep gash through the beast's chest. Blood sprayed across the walls and the dismembered body splattered to the floor. Her breaths came in sharp, loud pants, and she pushed her back against the rocky cave wall, doubling over, trying to catch her breath.

"You alright?"

She grimaced and straightened up, "I'll be fine." She caught sight of some of the creature's silver blood spilling over her shoulder, and she quickly wiped it off, distastefully.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and, automatically, the Exile tried to calm it, tried to allow the Force to soothe her pulse, her breathing. Fear led to anger. Anger to hate.

And hate to suffering, yeah yeah. The more cynical part of her mind finished for her, sharply, You know, you're not really a Jedi anymore, who cares about all that?

She ignored it, straightening up fully. Atton was still watching her, concernedly, and she quickly calmed his unease with a small smile, "I'm fine."

"We should keep moving."

She turned her head, seeing Mandalore's back, stiff and cautious, even through his thick silver armour. She nodded, slowly, and started walking again. This place... was wrong. So wrong. Everything about it, the smell, the taste of it... There was something in the air that screamed. It was suffering.

Atton put a gentle hand on her back, urging her forwards, somewhat consciously slipping his own lightsaber back in his holster. She glanced at it. She had followed his fighting in the Shyrack Cave carefully. He was awkward with this new blade; his powers, his handle of the Force, were rusty. But that would change, with time. As he learned to accept this new role.

Mandalore was watching her, carefully, and she frowned, this small expression inviting him to speak. But he shook his head, slowly, "Never mind." He paused, and then shook his head again, turning his back on her, "We need to keep moving."

His tone was odd. Strained. He'd never questioned her on military matters before; her fighting in the Mandalorian War had earned his respect and trust in these matters. So he must be able to feel it too. The call of the Dark Side in this place.

She didn't question him - she knew all too well the strong desire to get out of these caverns as soon as possible - instead moving to his side at a quick pace, and then overtaking him. If he minded she didn't notice, or, as a matter of fact, care. They were here because of her. She was going to keep them safe.

A Tuk'ata lay in their path. They had come across a datapad earlier, buried deep in the bloody jacket of a very-chewed corpse - a Sith Tuk'ata trainer. The soldier had let a pack of the beasts free in the caverns to destroy the shyrack infestation. He hadn't counted on them trying to rid this world of another infestation.

Shélla's eyes moved over it. The Tuk'ata was wounded, possibly by the shyrack horde she herself had come across, a deep, gaping wound spreading along its torso, precious blood covering the dry, sand-covered floor. Shélla hesitated, and then shook her head, leaning down a little. She put a strong, firm foot on the wretched beast's neck, and then took hold of one of its horns. She yanked her hand back, sharply. The snap echoed through the caves. The others were silent. They knew it wasn't the time.

She paused, looking down at the creature for some time. Then she turned away, and started walking again.

They came to a bridge. Shélla stopped, immediately, glancing it over. Her head tilted to the left. And then to the right.

Atton stopped beside her, caught what she was looking at, and gave a low whistle, "Sith's blood."

She nodded, slowly. Mandalore, however, as usual, seemed to relish the challenge. He glanced at her, jerking his head to the bridge, "Watch your step." His gravelly, vaguely-computerised voice was deep with a tint of amusement.

She straightened up slightly, unconsciously, and then went ahead of him. Her hesitation before taking the first step lasted for less than a second, and then she continued slowly along the rocky path.

She glanced down, and then instantly wished she hadn't. The breach below them seemed to go on forever, and the crossing was at most a few feet in width. She took a deep, stabilising breath and continued, firmly, her eyes fixed on safety, the end of the path.

"Shélla."

She heard Atton's voice, but didn't acknowledge it.

"Shélla. Can you feel..." he trailed off. She bit her lip, safe in the knowledge that neither of her companions could see it. The spacer was stronger in the Force than she had realised.

"Keep going." She said, her voice completely emotionless.

"But -"

"I said keep going."

She could feel them too. Even through the mask of Korriban. The dark power of this planet clouded their presence from her, but they were close.

"Shélla."

"Just keep walking, Atton."

She couldn't risk a fight on this bridge. It would be too close. Her eyes were flickering all over the path in front of them, her heart beating hard like a drum in her chest. One hand was clenched into a fist by her side. The other was on her saber.

A flicker passed over her vision. Her eyes latched onto it, cautiously. She counted in silence. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

She lashed out with her mind, the Force flowing through her and out of her, sending a wall of power into the Sith's body, throwing him off of the bridge and down into the darkness.

She let out a low snarl, "Assassins! Watch your back!"

The two immediately stopped, turning to face the ones behind them, knowing perfectly well that she could deal with hers on her own.

Two more assassins shimmered into view, abandoning their shields at the knowledge that she had discovered them - stealth field generators did nothing against a Jedi, ex or otherwise.

One advanced on her, far too quickly, and she instantly pushed out again, catching him all too easily. The Sith stopped in tracks, choking, battling with his breaths, his head pushed back at an angle as the Force constricted his throat, mercilessly.

Shélla pulled no punches. She tightened her grip, watching emotionlessly as the soldier fought in vain with the hold around his neck, and then threw him off the ground to join his comrade.

The next was on her before she knew it, and she ducked, feeling his Sith war blade skim the air less than a inch above her head. She caught the next blow with her lightsaber, the blade's cortosis weave giving it extra resilience against her weapon. She pushed forwards with her blade, forcing him to stumble back a step, but his resolve was strong. She tried to push into his head, to allow the Force to bond their minds, to allow her to find his weakness and exploit it, or find his resolution and crush it, but he was strong, very strong. He resisted, his Sith training serving him well, and forced her back with a ferocity that almost took her by surprise. Shyracks and Tuk'ata were a different fight to this, and she was going to have to adjust quickly.

Shélla dropped to the floor to avoid another fuming swing, kicking out with her foot, tripping him down with her. She managed to pin him down, both hands grabbing onto his, closing on the double-bladed weapon, forcing him to keep it above his head.

The Sith's furious pants and snarls were easily audible even through his thick, ragged mask. He struggled with her, viciously, attacking her with both his body and the Force, trying to throw her off. Shélla grimaced, feeling the pain of his hits flooding through her, feeling the tug on her mind his power was having. She ignored it, quickly, the implant she had administered shortly before touching down on this God-forsaken rock helping substantially.

She managed to force his hands up, and then back down, smashing them into the floor. An exposed rock slashed across the back on his hands, cutting straight through his gloves, and his violent curses cut through her in his archaic language. She forced his hands back down again, this time holding them, digging them down into the rock, blood spurting over her gloved fingers. He recoiled, flinching, and she managed to wrench his weapon from his grip, yanking herself upright. The Sith sat up, immediately, and, with a strangled snarl, she slashed the blade through his neck.

The body fell back to the ground like a rock, the head tumbling off the bridge into the chasm below.

Shélla stayed still for a moment, panting. Then she dropped the Sith sword, struggling to her feet. She turned. Atton and the Mandalorian were in similar states of disarray, covered in blood and breathing heavily.

"A stealth generator is a coward's tool!" Mandalore declared, anger and disgust sharp in his voice.

Shélla raised an eyebrow, "That's funny, Mandalore. Because I remember one clan on Dxun being particularly fond on them."

He shook his head, dismissively, "We never attacked you. I ordered them to take you alive. If we were out to kill you we would've done it honourably and face to face."

She shook her head, ignoring this distinction. She hesitated, looking down the path, and then continued along it until her feet hit steady ground once again. Feeling frankly quite relieved, she looked around her, frowning.

"Why are we stopping?" Atton asked, the slight tension in his voice showing one inch of the caution he felt.

She held up a hand, silently, without looking at him. She kept her eyes fixed on a path in front of her. Her heartbeat had hastened, and the slight tick of the Force in her head had accelerated - a warning? She closed her eyes, spreading out her mind. She sensed nothing. Nothing except... except that feeling. Darkness.

"Something is wrong." She said, quietly, keeping her eyes closed. No. Definitely no sentients. No animals. But... somehow... there was life.

She opened her eyes, turning to face him, "Do you feel it?"

"Yes." He replied, softly, his voice subdued.

She turned on the other, "What about you?"

If she could see his face, she was certain she would have seen a raised an eyebrow, "Through the Force?" he asked, only the slightest hint of mockery in his rough voice.

She shook her head, impatiently, "The Force, warrior's instinct, whatever you call it. D'you feel it?"

Mandalore paused, and then looked up the way they were facing. He looked for some time. Then he returned his gaze back to her, "It smells of death, and fear."

Atton nodded ahead of them, uneasily, "We should definitely... not go up that way."

"That's our path."

"How did I know you were going to say that..."

Shélla hesitated. Then she started walking again, slowly, cautiously. It was dark, very dark, and she closed her eyes, allowing the Force to see for her, as Visas had taught her so long ago. She kept moving, until she saw something she hadn't been expecting. She frowned, and opened her eyes.

A door stood in front of them, a large square door, covered with archaic Sith writings. She frowned, and then moved her eyes down. Somehow - though Force knew how - she managed to force all her emotions into a single cocked eyebrow.

The floor was bathed with a dark violet glow, gloomy, grey mist spreading around her ankles. Power jolted up from the floor like some sort of plasma, purple sparks scaling the walls, flickering around the cold stone door. The light shaded her in a murky purple hue.

-Your thoughts are troubled-

Shélla no longer flinched; she was well used to Kreia's powers by now, "Yeah. I bet they are."

-The source of the power I felt coming through the cave is just ahead... through the door-

She looked up at it, far less than enthusiastically, "Yeah, I didn't think you were gunna say it was just for decoration."

-I believe you are strong enough to enter it. But... you will have to face the challenges of this tomb alone-

Atton immediately objected: "Oh no, no way. Like hell you're going in there by yourself."

-You must- Kreia interjected, firmly, -Where you travel in this tomb no-one must follow. Are you ready?-

She nodded, slowly, "Yes." Atton opened his mouth to protest again, but she put up a hand, "Stay here. Make sure nothing follows me. Both of you." He just shook his head, and she put a gentle, soothing hand on his shoulder, "Atton. I don't particularly like the idea of going in there alone, but I believe Kreia when she says it is not possible any other way."

He shook his head again, slowly, "Let me come with you, Shélla. Let me help you."

"No."

"Why."

"Because this is something I must do by myself. I can feel it. You can feel it too, can't you." He just looked at her, uneasily. She knew he could. "Good. Now. You'll wait here for me. Yes? You'll be here? You'll be here when I get out?"

There was a touch of desperation to her tone that even she could not suppress.

He nodded, immediately, "Yes. We'll be here. I'll wait for you."

"Thankyou." She turned back to the door, slowly, taking a few reluctant steps into the purple mist, "I will go on alone."

-Then proceed-

She put her hand on the door. It slid open at her touch, as if it had been waiting for her. Inside she could see nothing but darkness. She took a deep, long breath. And then stepped through.

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"Where is she?"

The old woman looked at him, almost curiously, "Why do you ask?"

Bao-Dur shook his head, putting a hand up to his cheek, his temple, gingerly, "I can... feel her. She's calling out to me."

She raised an eyebrow, "Your grasp of the Force is stronger than I anticipated."

"Where is she." He pressed, firmly.

Kreia shook her head, emotionlessly, coldly, "She is where she always was, Iridonian. On Korriban. She shall be back soon, I presume."

"Then why is she calling me." He asked, trying very carefully to reign in his frustration, the long-forgotten anger that squirmed within him still. This woman seemed to stir up the darker side of him, and that was not something he was keen to display.

"Subconscious, I don't doubt. The Exile is trying to keep her mind away from her position. Keep her thoughts clear. It is something the fool taught her, no doubt."

"What have you got against Atton?"

She gave a small, cruel laugh, "He is a fool. And, though fools have their uses, he is beyond my interest."

"He has helped us a lot here." Bao mediated, softly, keeping his voice calm, "Perhaps he is not as inept as you think."

The woman looked up at him, her blind, milk-white eyes moving over him like a scourer. He could tell she was trying to sense his thoughts. But she wouldn't find any. The General had told him about Kreia's inability to read his mind, and her mild frustration in not being able to do so. She had told him that after coming to apologise for doing the very thing. Said it must be something about their battles together that made it so easy for her.

"Perhaps." She answered, finally, "Perhaps he will prove his worth in the end."

What problem did the woman have with him, he wondered. He was just a spacer, harmless enough, a bit... eccentric, but he sure wasn't the only one.

His remote beeped at him, bringing him firmly back to the point. Bao nodded and turned his attention back to Kreia, "Why would the General need to keep her thoughts clear?"

"That I cannot answer you. Perhaps she feels the need to block her thoughts, stop herself from being manipulated."

"Manipulated by who."

"Herself." She replied, cryptically. He looked at her for a second, raising an eyebrow, and was just about to speak when she cut over him: "There is no use in such questions, Iridonian. You must let your General face these problems on her own, or she will have learnt nothing from it."

"But is she in any danger?" he pressed, shaking his head, "Is she going to get hurt?"

She nodded, thoughtfully, "Yes. Yes, she may very well get hurt. But some small sufferings... lessen greater ones."

Bao-Dur shook his head, firmly, "That's ridiculous. I'm going to her."

"If you go to her now you will tear her apart, Iridonian." She replied, sharply, "Or yourself. She will not recognise you."

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean what I said: she will not recognise you. And perhaps her anger is being stirred by this test. There is no telling how she would react."

Bao just looked at her. He could sense she was telling the truth. But his heart ached to go to his General, to stand by her side, to help her. He shook his head, slowly, making his decision, backing very slightly out of the woman's quarters, "Fine. But if I hear her call again... I will assist her."

Kreia gave a small nod, "Of course."

He nodded back, slowly, and then turned, heading out the door.

"You are a loyal thing, soldier."

The words made him stop. He backtracked, ending back at her door again, "What did you say?"

"You know what I said."

"Yes, I do, I just want you to say it to my face." Bao-Dur's voice was perfectly quiet. But it echoed warning, filled with an old anger he hadn't felt for some time.

"Your loyalty is used. Mistreated. Your loyalty makes you easier to manipulate."

"The General did not manipulate me, I fought at Malachor on my own free will."

"And you activated your Shadow Generator at her command."

He felt the name cut straight through him, sharper than a blade. He was numb, he couldn't speak, he just... stared at her. It wasn't just the image. It was the words. You activated your Shadow Generator. Yours. His Shadow Generator.

Kreia looked at him, thoughtfully, tilting her head to one side, "Don't mistake my intentions. I respect loyalty. And I respect your decision. And the bond that decision created, the bond between you and the Exile."

"You know nothing of Malachor." He managed, finally, his voice a dead hush, "You know nothing."

She nodded, "If that is what you believe. However... I only wish you... think this time. Because your loyalty cost you everything once. Would you let it do so again?"

He didn't reply. He couldn't reply.

She nodded, slowly, "That is the answer I expected. Now go. Wait for you General's call. If she still continues to request your aid... then maybe events are not passing as I expected. But that is her decision. Not mine. Go."

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