Disclaimer: In no way could I possibly own the awesomeness that is Star Wars, KOTOR, or anything vaguely related to them in any way. I simply write this to entertain myself and hopefully other fans of the game.
A/N: Hello everyone! I am new to this fandom as an author, though I have read many, many novelizations of KOTOR. From this experience, I am still fascinated by how different each person's Revan can be, and how they still manage to make a story everyone knows fresh and exciting. I am also going to be writing a novelization of KOTOR here, but hopefully with a noticeable personal touch, starting with a misanthropic Revan. I plan on writing a full novelization of both KOTOR and TSL, as well as a bridge between the two games and a "KOTOR 3"-like story, which is all in all a large project to undertake. However, I am really excited to do it, and so are my two awesome beta readers Yotam and Jonathan, who don't actually have accounts on here but are kind enough to read my work. Please note that "bold italics" means that the speaker is speaking in their native alien language, while plain italics means the subject's thoughts (unless it is just one word, in which case it's just an emphasized word). Also keep in mind that I have tried not to completely replicate dialogue from the game, but sort of paraphrased it and added some personal flair to keep the dialogue fresh and easy to read. Enough of this intro though, let's start the story!
Docking Bay 7A; Terminal 2; Coruscant
The Endar Spire glimmered in the early morning sunshine, the sprawling city buzzing with the constant activity of a metropolis that spanned an entire planet. As columns of soldiers dressed in the standard gaudy orange, yellow, and black uniforms of the Republic Navy boarded the space vessel, a group of people stood off to the side of the boarding ramp. On closer inspection, the group was actually split into two smaller cliques. To the left was a cluster of robed individuals of a variety of races, each with at least one gleaming silver cylinder dangling on their belt. All of them had an expression of anxiety or worry on their faces, but one of them was especially so. She was dressed in a tight fitting tan body suit, and though she showed a constant air of confidence with her perfect twin pigtails, erect posture, and determined facial expressions, all of the Jedi could feel the agitation rolling off of their commander. The other group closer to the boarding ramp was also wearing the uniforms of the Republic Navy, but the badges, hats, and weapons they all carried easily distinguished them as the ranking officers of the ship. Their facial expressions were the complete opposite of their Jedi counterparts; irritated, angry, and frustrated. After a quick and hushed whispering session amongst themselves, one of the Republic officers stepped forward to address the Jedi.
"Excuse me, Master Jedi, but these are the last of the soldiers boarding the Spire. Shouldn't we be getting ready for departure now?" asked the slightly edgy and impatient Captain Carth Onasi. He also had brown hair, and it seemed like he had styled it so meticulously that a couple strands would airily hang down over his forehead. Coupled with his stubbly goatee, Carth seemed like he was trying very hard to live up to the humble war hero reputation that he was often labeled with.
The Jedi in the body suit, Padawan Bastila Shan, stepped forward to address the Captain. "I don't know if you remember Captain," started Bastila, emphasizing Carth's rank, "but I am the one in command of this ship and this mission. We leave when I order us to, and I do not want us to leave just yet," Bastila said in a high and mighty tone that reminded Carth why he hated working so close with Jedi for long periods of time.
"Yes, Padawan Shan, I know that you are the commander of this mission. But as your tactical advisor for this mission, I advise you to get the ship ready for launch. We can't sit around in the docking bay when we have this high-importance mission to carry out!" Carth attempted to reason. He actually didn't know why this mission was ranked with such a high importance, since it seemed pretty routine to him. Yet this ferrying of reconnaissance equipment to Yavin IV required four hundred soldiers, one hundred battle droids, two hundred crew, a Hammerhead class ship, and a Jedi entourage including one of the keys to the Republican war effort, Bastila Shan. When Carth had first seen his reassignment order, he had needed to be convinced by High Admiral Dodonna herself to see if it was a mistake. She had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was to follow the Jedis' orders to the letter, or else risk a reprimand. However, being a senior military officer, he was allowed to give educated advice to the Jedi. Carth didn't like it, but he was a soldier, and he followed his orders, even if it meant being the Jedis' lap dog for a couple of weeks on a routine mission.
"I know why this mission is classed with such high importance, Captain Onasi. And we cannot possibly execute this mission successfully without one of my civilian advisors accompanying us," Bastila stated matter-of-factly.
"And where exactly is this indispensable advisor then?" growled Carth.
A flicker of doubt flashed across the young Jedi's face before her usual blank yet haughty mask quickly covered it up. "She is running late is all. Once she arrives, I assure you, we will depart for Yavin. Until then, we shall wait here," brushed off Bastila, signaling the end of discussion. She turned her back on him and walked back towards her Jedi companions, quickly motioning them to have what looked like an intense discussion. Carth just frowned and turned back towards his comrades.
"Looks like we're just going to have to wait here until some advisor arrives," he informed the others.
"How good of an advisor can she be if she's already running late?" grouchily joked one of the lieutenants.
The Hutt's Belly Cantina; Coruscant
The Hutt's Belly Cantina was not one of the most honest establishments on Coruscant, but the food was edible and the drinks stayed down. The Hutt's Belly had a colorful clientele, ranging from members of the Exchange, Mandalorian mercenaries, swoop racers, debt ridden Pazaak players, smugglers, and your every day variety of Republic fugitives. Occasionally, a drifter or two would come and occupy a table, just like the one who was seated in the very far corner of the room. Along with all of the other remaining occupants of the room, the drifter was also slumped forward on the tabletop in an alcohol-induced sleep, the remains of a Tarisian ale in a glass near their face. The drifter was clad in a long, black, billowing cloak with the hood covering their face, tight black combat pants with a stripe of blood red down each leg, and sturdy black boots that went to their knee. The cantina was silent, save for the dripping of a mysterious brown liquid into the ash tray on the end of the bar.
Slowly, the front door creaked open, allowing a few rays of light to leak into the dank rat hole of a cantina before it shut abruptly again. A Rodian carrying a large sack and a dinged up blaster snuck inside, and promptly began to rifle through the pockets of the passed out cantina goers. Picking up a few credit stubs, stims, blasters, stun batons, and medpacs, the Rodian approached the still passed out drifter. As the greedy alien reached his hand out to rifle through the depths of the pockets of the heavy cloak, he found that he was staring at empty space, and with searing pain toppled to the ground. The drifter stood next to the headless body of the Rodian, carefully kicking his head away while avoiding getting blood on her boots. Shrugging wordlessly, the hooded murderer caught her appearance in the blood puddle. The drifter was in fact revealed to be a woman, as her hood had fallen back as she had darted awake and decapitated the would-be thief. Under her hood was a head of long, thick, wavy raven hair, the front few strands carefully tied back to keep out of her vision. Her skin was a creamy ivory, not sickly pale but not tanned either. But most stunning were her eyes. Though they were not big, her irises were a strikingly deep blue, as clear as the deepest oceans on Manaan. She had managed to quickly behead the Rodian in one clean blow with her vibrosword, even though she was actually a petite person.
Glancing around at her surroundings, the woman stared at her comlink. Not only did she have five missed calls, but it was already 8:42 in the morning. Eyes widening slightly, she reapplied her hood and carefully, almost as if she were polishing a prized antique, wiped her vibrosword on the Rodian's grungy clothes, making sure the blade was spotless. Taking one last sweeping look at the cantina she went back to her table and downed the rest of her ale. Grimacing slightly at the biting after taste, she grabbed another bottle from behind the bar. The bartender paid no notice; he too, was slumped in a puddle of what smelled like Corellian firewhiskey. Popping the lid open on the counter top, the woman took a large swig and ran out the door.
Docking Bay
Carth paced impatiently in front of the gang plank of the Spire, frequently glancing at the group of Jedi still huddled together in their whispering conference. They were supposed to have left for Yavin an hour ago, and this advisor did not seem to be picking up her comlink. Curse the Jedi and their unreliable advisors, grumbled Carth. He didn't see how this one person could be so important to hold up an entire warship.
Just then, Bastila's head perked up from among the debating Jedi, her eyes straining to a point behind Carth. Carth couldn't see anyone or anything at first, but a few moments later he could make out a small dark figure approaching at a high speed. Instinctively, he raised his blaster at the incoming person.
"Stand down, Captain," ordered Bastila, as she stepped forward to receive the newcomer. He and the rest of the Republic officers lowered their weapons and warily eyed the cloaked figure. The rest of the Jedi, too, looked a little cautious at the sight of the newcomer, and kept their hands hovered slightly over their lightsabers. The unidentified figure lowered her hood, though the appearance of the raven haired woman did nothing to ease the Jedi's fear. In fact, it seemed that it may have made it worse for some of them.
"Keira Trinidad, civilian advisor assigned to the Endar Spire, at your service," drawled the cloaked woman.
Bastila clicked her tongue, clearly annoyed. "Miss Trinidad, would you please hurry on board with Captain Onasi? After he shows you to your quarters you are to report to me and explain why you are so inexcusably tardy," ordered the Jedi. "And do I smell alcohol on you?" she asked exasperatedly.
"Yes you do, Padawan Shan," shamelessly admitted Keira, proud of herself for remembering her commanding officer's name. "But don't worry, I'm perfectly sober. I'm not stupid enough to show up drunk for duty," she nonchalantly assured them.
Bastila sighed, and motioned for the Jedi to start boarding the ship. The Republic officers began to do the same when Carth protested.
"Padawan Shan, though I rank below you on the ship, I don't think it is respectful of you to assign me to play servant boy to this civilian advisor!" argued Carth.
"That civilian advis-"
"I'm a Class 1 passenger aboard this ship, Captain," interrupted Trinidad, who, like Bastila, emphasized Onasi's military rank, "and therefore warrant your valuable time."
Carth gaped. This drunk, late, sketchy woman a Class 1 passenger? Class 1s were generally diplomats, planetary leaders, celebrities, or royalty, not random people that looked as if they had been just pulled from the street! Carth nodded his head, and inwardly decided that it was just another odd Jedi demand.
"Right this way, Ms. Trinidad," sighed Carth, as he led the newest addition to the Spire aboard.
Bastila groaned as she watched the final crewmembers of the Endar Spire board the ship. This was going to be one long mission.
Rec Room of the Endar Spire
Carth took a deep breath before entering the most relaxed room of the Endar Spire. He had just come from another meeting with Bastila, and his patience was already fraying at the ends. Though they had been in hyperspace for only three days, those days seemed to be getting longer and longer. Carth admired Bastila for her courage of using her Battle Meditation to aid the Republic in their constant fight against the Sith, but these past few days had showed him how young and inexperienced she still was. Not only did she have no idea how to manage a shipload of soldiers, but her overall tactical knowledge of how battles should be fought, or in this case avoided, was glaringly minimal. They were lucky that they emerged from the previous skirmish with only twenty dead. Even worse, whenever he, or any of her other advisors for that matter, tried to suggest a less risky course, she vehemently refused and unwaveringly declared to them that 'the Force guided them this way.' However, Carth wasn't the worst treated of the advisors, and it was for this reason he had come to the rec room.
Seated off to the side of the Pazaak playing, rowdy soldiers, was the still cloaked civilian advisor Keira Trinidad. Carth noticed that she had discreetly placed herself away from the others so that while they didn't notice her sitting by herself, she could do whatever she pleased without being disturbed. Keira seemed to be grimacing to herself as she carefully scanned one of the many datapads stacked on her table. Beside the towering piles of datapads was an equally unstable stack of empty glasses. Carth sighed. He knew that this civilian advisor was being overworked, but he did not condone her use of alcohol to lighten her load. Carth snuck his way towards her table, or at least he thought he did, before she addressed him in her usual uncaring tone.
"Captain Onasi, how kind of you to join me," she said as she took another sip of her drink. "Please, take a seat," she gestured to the seat opposite of the piles of datapads and glasses. Carth took the seat and placed it next to the shady woman. They sat in silence for a few moments before Carth decided to break it.
"So, Ms. Trinidad, what exactly are you doing with all of these datapads?" he motioned to the wobbly stacks.
Keira took another sip of her drink. "I thought you might know, Captain Onasi, since you are the senior advisor on this ship," she exhaled slowly. "The oh-so-mighty Bastila Shan cannot seem to do her own translations, and neither can any of the Jedi in her little posse. So she has assigned me to do all of these," lazily waving her hand at the datapads.
"You sound skeptical," hazarded Carth.
"You know as well as I that Jedi are naturally gifted with the skill of comprehending alien languages. They can supposedly use the Force or something to help them learn languages at incredibly fast rates. And I know some Jedi are better at it than others, but seriously, none of them can speak Rodese? Haven't they ever been to a cantina?" asked Keira with frustration. She downed the last of her drink and added the glass to the rest of the stack.
"Judging from the amount you can down without getting tipsy, I'd guess that you have," joked Carth. "But seriously, I do share your doubts about the work they're making you do. It does seem a little menial and excessive. But it doesn't excuse you from drinking your weight in," he sniffed one of the glasses, "Corellian ale. I know you don't appear drunk, but it's not healthy!" urged Carth.
"Captain Onasi, would you rather me break into the stash of stims I have in my quarters?" asked Keira. Carth stayed silent for a few moments. He guessed that alcohol was better than stimulants, but he still resolved to talk to Bastila about her charge's substance abuse problems.
"That's what I thought," murmured Keira. As she moved to gather her things, Carth made one last ditch effort to persuade her to partake in some more normal behavior.
"Why don't you join some of the other men in a game of Pazaak? That may distract you just as much as any questionable substance might!" pleaded Carth. Carth hated to see people waste their lives on addictions. He had seen plenty of good men ruin their careers by showing up drunk or high on the job, and countless more lose their families after running up insurmountable debts after tours of Pazaak playing.
Keira laughed. "Oh, Captain Onasi, you are just so funny. I don't use 'questionable substances' to distract myself from the work I'm given, I use it to distract myself from them!" loftily waving her arm at the off-duty soldiers. She continued to chuckle to herself as she left the room with her datapads. In her wake sat a bewildered Carth and a multitude of empty glasses.
Bridge; Endar Spire
"With all due respect, Bastila," Carth had by now dropped the formalities with his naïve charge, "we should really reroute our course to avoid such a populated planet like Taris." All of the other Republic personnel exhaustedly agreed. It was nearing midnight and all of the higher-ups were getting tired.
"No, Captain, I think we should stay on our current course. Taking a detour will just slow us down, and as you said, this is a very important mission," haughtily replied Bastila. Though it was getting late, Bastila showed no signs of fatigue.
Carth sighed. "I know what I said earlier, but this is supposed help us avoid anything that might disrupt the mission!" Carth didn't know why the original route even went near such a populated planet like Taris. Sure, it wasn't the thriving metropolis it had been in its glory days, but it was still too busy for Carth's liking.
"Remember who is in charge here, Captain," reminded Bastila for what seemed like the hundredth time. Carth knew who was in charge here, otherwise he wouldn't be having such a massive headache.
"I know who is in charge, but the fact of the matter is- " Carth was cut off by the urgent voice of the deputy navigator on the bridge.
"Sirs," and taking a second look at Bastila, added "and Ma'am, we've been pulled out of hyperspace! We're caught in a tractor beam!" he announced frantically. His hands were flying across his keyboard. "It's, it's the Leviathan!"
Everyone on the bridge gasped. The Leviathan? Darth Malak's flagship was here? All of the officers who were previously discussing whether or not to change course ran to their stations to make sure they did not get caught by Darth Malak. As men started shouting frantic orders, and everyone went to battle stations, Bastila paled.
"This cannot be happening, not when there is such precious cargo on board," she whispered to herself.
Carth stepped forward to get a make sure the ship he was seeing in the viewport was actually real. The daunting profile of the Leviathan slowly grew larger as it came closer, as did Carth's anger. Finally, Saul, we meet again, thought Carth. He gripped the handle of his blaster pistol until his knuckles looked like they would tear through the skin. As a passing soldier stepped on his foot, Carth realized that his first duty was to the crew members of the Spire, not for his own vendetta. But he's so close, mentally moaned Carth. Slowly releasing his grip, he started barking orders to scramble all of the soldiers. Seeing Bastila staring blankly into the distance he yelled to her.
"Bastila, start using your Force magic, or get out of the way!" he roared.
Snapping out of her reverie and running to an empty corner of the room, Bastila grabbed her comlink.
"Tell Jedi Pintino to prepare the rest for Malak and his boarding party, and to report to the bridge. Yes, you heard me, we are most likely going to be boarded by Malak's ship! Also, tell Ensign Ulgo to get her."
Keira Trinidad and Trask Ulgo's Quarters; Endar Spire
As another blast shook the ship, Keira Trinidad fell out of her bunk. In a heartbeat she was back on her feet, taking in her surroundings. Alright, I'm in my quarters… in my underwear. That must mean that I was sleeping, which means that I had reported to Miss Prissy with the Rodese translations about the blaster smuggling. Keira grinned to herself. The look on Bastila's face had been priceless when she came in only three hours after having received the datapads to give a detailed report on a band of Rodian's plans to smuggle illegal high powered blasters to miners on Tatooine. No one, not even Bastila, had expected Keira to wade through that many recorded conversations in such a small amount of time. Suddenly, the door to her room burst open, and a tall, well-built, buzz cut blond dressed in a Republic uniform tumbled in, the door quickly clicking shut behind him.
Ignoring the fact that his bunkmate was in her underwear, Trask quickly brought Keira up to date on the situation. "We've been ambushed by a Sith Battle Fleet, including the Leviathan herself! We need to report to the bridge immediately, and defend the Spire at all costs!"
Keira, finally reoriented, was all business as well. "Sure, just as soon as I get some clothes on. Unless you want me to fight my way through swathes of Sith in my stylish underwear?" she asked sarcastically.
Trask sighed. "No, we have enough time for you to change, Miss Trinidad."
As she pulled on her clothes, customary cloak, and boots, Keira asked, "Wait, how do we know each other again?"
"Remember, the first day onboard when you were late? I was putting my stuff in here because I'm your bunkmate!" Trask reminded, annoyed.
"Oh yeah… Well give me a break, Trask, we work opposite shifts for crying out loud!" complained Keira.
"Come on, Miss Trinidad, we have to go and defend Bastila!" pushed Trask.
"Yeah, yeah, come on, she doesn't even have an official rank in the fleet," said Keira.
"Neither do you!" reminded Trask. "Anyway, you swore an oath just like everyone else on this ship to serve and protect the Republic, and that includes defending the commander of this mission! Now, even though you're a scout, I've heard from some of the other soldiers that you've been to more planets that I've never heard of that I can count! That must mean you have skills needed to protect Bastila and the ship!"
"Hold your horses, Trask," reprimanded Keira as she grabbed her trusty vibrosword. "I only said that Bastila didn't have an official rank in the Fleet, not that I wasn't going to do my job because I'm a scout. Let's go."
She clicked the switch on the door, but it didn't budge. Glaring at Trask, he blushed.
"Oh yeah, the ship is on lockdown because of boarding protocols. Don't worry though, I have the override codes!" he said meekly.
"You could have said that earlier," said a slightly annoyed Keira.
When the door finally opened, the sight that met Keira's eyes was one of pure chaos. Power conduits were overloaded, blown up droids strewn everywhere, and the bodies of Republic ensigns slumped on the sides of the corridors. In front of them, the remaining ensigns fought for their lives against a far greater number of gold-armored Sith.
"Crap, it must be the advanced boarding party," whispered Trask. "We have to help them!" Trask raised his blaster.
Inwardly, Keira face palmed herself. "No Trask, we have to get to the bridge-"
"FOR THE REPUBLIC!" screamed Trask, as he charged into the fray. Keira sighed. So much for getting to the bridge quickly. She looked up to see Trask struggling. The idiot! He ran straight into a close range fight with only a blaster! Trask's prospects looked increasingly grim as the two remaining Republic ensigns fell to the ground. I guess I should go and help him, Keira reasoned. She drew her lethal vibrosword and jumped gracefully into the middle of the group of Sith. In a series of fluid movements, she cut off the arm of one Sith, slashed the throat of another, and ran through another with the tip of her sword. Straightening to see if her overzealous companion was okay, she absentmindedly stabbed the throat of the armless Sith, painfully ending his life.
Trask's eyes widened at the gory display. "Where did you learn how to fight like that?" he asked dazedly.
"We don't have time for explanations," quickly brushed off Keira. "Now make yourself useful and see if any of these dead people have anything useful left to give us," she ordered as she rifled through the pockets of the Sith she had just stabbed. Trask turned a shade of green.
"Are you serious? Shouldn't we just leave these poor souls to themselves?" he asked timidly.
"Well, you're clutching your side, and we don't have any medpacs to spare. So either you look to see if any of these dead guys have any medpacs for your wound, or we can head down the next hallway and hope there aren't any more Sith left to kill you. Your pick," offered Keira as she carelessly wrenched a blaster out of one of the dead Sith's hand. Trask grudgingly bent over and began to look for a medpac.
After successfully finding a medpac, and a couple of extra to spare, they moved on to the next section of the corridor. Seeing another group of Sith soldiers, Keira drew her blade. Turning to Trask she said, "Cover me from back here. Your blaster is of no use at close range."
Seeing Trask nod in assent, she rushed forward and continued to decapitate the Sith. A few more similar episodes and a lot of free equipment and credits later, the duo came up to the door to the bridge. Trask, with his usual lack of tactical consideration, immediately opened the door, revealing a trio of Sith standing amongst a large amount of dead Republic soldiers. Keira was pretty impressed that three Sith troopers could kill over ten Republic soldiers and come out relatively unscathed, and wondered if the Republic trained their soldiers enough before deploying them out to the field. Her thoughts turned to Trask. The Sith finally noticed the newcomers, and raised their weapons with bloodlust. Keira could have even sworn that she heard one giggle with anticipation. She threw a frag grenade into the group, not really expecting to kill any of them with it, but to disperse them so she could kill them easier. She smirked as the three Sith were scattered across the bridge.
"Trask, you keep them away from me with your blaster fire while I take them down one by one," ordered Keira authoritatively. Trask gulped nervously and nodded in assent. This was only his second combat mission, and his bunkmate seemed to know what she was doing.
Keira jumped at the first Sith, her sword meeting the other Sith's blade. Surprised that the trooper had enough reflexes to deadlock blades with her, Keira kicked the Sith squarely in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and possibly breaking a rib or two. Before the Sith could recover, she plunged her sword into his heart, dodging the blood that spurted out of him. She was lucky that she had moved, because a blaster bolt narrowly missed her head.
"TRASK!" yelled Keira, turning to reprimand her companion. Trask had nervously retreated towards the far entrance to the bridge where they had entered, feebly shooting at the two remaining Sith. Before he could respond, an intense pain rippled through the left side of Keira's stomach. Opening her mouth to curse, she instead coughed up a little blood. Turning back to see which unlucky Sith had impaled her, she cut off the wrist of the nearest Sith. With the vibroblade still lodged in her stomach, she placed a deep cut on the Sith's thigh. He fell to the ground screaming in agony, bleeding profusely. He desperately tried to drag himself away from the carnage, but after suffering a wave of convulsions, died. The last Sith was still shooting at her with a blaster rifle from near the other door of the bridge. Feeling too weak to make her way over there, she threw her blade with expert precision, leaving the Sith dead against the wall. After neutralizing all the threats, Keira pitched forward, breathing shallowly. Trask, coming out of his shock, ran over to his partner, frantic but too afraid to take any action.
"Trask," rasped Keira. "Pass me a medpac." He placed one in her outstretched hand. "Okay. When I tell you to, I need you to pull out this vibroblade from my stomach. Quickly though, it already hurts like a schutta. After you pull it out, I'll do the best I can with the medpac. But you're going to have to do a little more fighting now, since I'll be a little slower with my reactions," she instructed. Trask nodded. "Alright Trask, let's do this. One, two, THREE!" she grunted as the blade exited her body. Fumbling with the medpac, she amateurishly disinfected her wound, applied temporary stitches, and bandaged herself up tightly. Taking the arm that Trask offered, she pulled herself off the ground. Inhaling deeply she recomposed herself.
"Okay. Since I'm finding it a little hard to bend right now, Trask, you go and see if there's anything useful in these dead schutta's pockets."
As they were nearing the starboard section of the ship, they came across a door going in a different direction.
"There's something behind here!" Trask pointed at the other door. "They may be other Republic soldiers!" he said excitedly. Rushing forward to open the door, a tall, gray, bald, Dark Jedi dressed in black twirled his lightsaber. Trask waited for a second his eyes flitting from the wound on Keira's stomach to the Dark Jedi. Making his decision, Trask drew his sword from his belt.
"I'll hold him off while you get to the escape pods on the starboard section! FOR THE REPUBLIC!" declared Trask for the last time. Without another word he ran into the next room, sealing his fate.
"Trask!" yelled Keira in vain. She knew that she had told him that he would have to do more of his share of the fighting, but she hadn't meant it like this. Looking down, she went through the other door heading to the starboard section.
As soon as she had dispatched another trio of Sith soldiers, this time a little more slowly, her comlink beeped. She was actually slightly relieved to see the face on the other side.
"This is Captain Carth Onasi on your personal communicator. I've been tracking your progress using the Endar Spire's life support system. Unfortunately, you're the last surviving crewmember on board besides me. Don't worry about Bastila, her escape pod is already away. There's only one escape pod left and I can't wait for you much longer! Be careful though, there's a whole platoon of Sith in the next room. I don't suggest fighting them all yourself, you should find another way! Good luck! Onasi, out."
Keira sighed. Way to suggest some methods to getting rid of the Sith platoon, then, Captain. She glanced around her surroundings, hoping to find something useful. There was a computer console and a broken droid at her disposal. Quickly hacking into the Endar Spire's computer system, she overloaded the power conduit in the next room. However, the conduit was not ideally placed, and only a couple of the Sith soldiers died. Great, now all of the rest of the soldiers will be on alert, thought Keira. Her only option left was the droid. After repairing the droid, Keira still didn't like her odds. The blaster rifle it was equipped with was damaged, and its armor minimal. This droid doesn't look too dangerous, thought Keira. Suddenly, an idea popped into her mind. Placing a frag grenade into the chassis of the droid, she set the droid on patrol mode and hid behind some empty plasteel cylinders.
The droid walked in and was quickly picked apart by the Sith blaster fire. However, none of them were expecting the extra surprise the droid had inside, as it dented and/or impaled every surface in the next room, leaving the rest of the Sith troopers dead. As she opened the door to the escape pod room, Carth hurriedly greeted her.
"I heard the two blasts in the next room! What was the second one, by the way? One of them was the power conduit?" he asked.
"Yeah, but it didn't get all of them. Since I'm a little too injured to tend to the rest," she gestured to her stomach wound, "I turned the droid into a suicide bomber."
Carth nodded at her resourcefulness and motioned to the escape pods. "We're the only two left, we need to hurry before the Sith pick this ship apart! We can hide on the planet below!"
Seeing no other options, Keira reluctantly agreed. "Okay, but once we settle down on the planet we need to reassess the situation." As much as she hated the Sith, she didn't want to follow the Republic blindly and do more than she had to.
"Okay, deal. But get in the escape pod," the ship rattled from the turbolaser fire of the Leviathan. "Now!"
They hopped into the last escape pod. Carth immediately pushed the eject button as Keira gingerly tried to buckle herself down without agitating her wound.
"Don't worry," assured Carth as he too buckled himself into his seat. "These restraints should keep us from getting too roughed up when we land."
As the escape pod plummeted at a breakneck speed, it was shaken by some stray turbolaser fire. The ensuing turbulence caused one of Keira's straps to break. Cheap Republic manufacturing! thought Keira.
"You were saying?" she asked Carth, knowing that she was bound to get 'a little roughed up' now that half of her body was free to move around the pod.
"You really don't have to worry," Carth said half heartedly as he saw the surface of the planet approaching. "But you might want to grab onto something!" he said at the last second, as the pod made impact with the surface. They rattled side to side, and at one point Carth was sure they had flipped upside down. The hellacious ride ended after what seemed like an eternity, and Carth had to use all of his strength to kick open the hatch of the pod.
The dim street lights of the Upper City of Taris poured into the escape pod. It was then that Carth noticed that Keira was draped awkwardly over her seat in the escape pod. As he went back down to pick her up, he noticed that a small river of blood was leaking from Keira's head, in addition to a black eye and her reopened stomach wound. He carefully lifted her out of the pod and scurried down a darkened alleyway as the first curious residents began to comb over the damaged escape pod.
For such a petite woman, thought Carth, she is sure heavy! He had peaked into the third apartment complex, hoping that there would be a spare room available. A green Twi'lek noticed him looking around and decided to approach him.
"Hello human, I am Larrim," he introduced. "You seem to be looking for something. Could it be that you would like to purchase a state of the art energy shield?" Larrim inquired.
"Erm, no thank you," avoided Carth, trying to hide the limp body he was carrying. "But do you know if there are any vacant apartments here?"
"I could tell you, human, for a price of course," offered the greedy Twi'lek.
Carth sighed. Taris was one of these kinds of planets. "Okay, here's fifty credits, now where is it?"
"Please follow me down the hall, human," guided Larrim.
When at last Carth managed to get rid of Larrim, he carefully placed Keira on the bed. She was looking dangerously pale and began to thrash around in her sleep. At least she's still alive, reasoned Carth. He procured his only advanced medpac and began to tend to her wounds.