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Ruins of the Sedan Sith Academy"Gone, what do you mean gone?" demanded Carth loudly, momentarily removing the breath-mask from in front of his face and gagging at the smell. Days in the hot sun on a stone surface had worked horrors on the many cadavers lying around, and lingering traces of the gas added to the stench. Very few of the bodies wore Sith robes or carried lightsabers though.
"There was an attack three days ago," explained Lorn patiently from behind his breath-mask. "The guards were killed and the automatic defenses de-activated. Somebody shouted a warning, but by then they were already inside the walls. They gassed most of the academy, those who didn't fall immediately received concentrated fire from many stun rifles." His skin was red and puffy, his eyes looked sore too. The pretty woman with him hadn't fared much better.
"Some Jedi know techniques for sustaining their body's with the Force, without air," said Bastila, who was standing beside Carth. "It makes sense that these Sith would know them as well."
"How do we know you're not one of them?" asked Carth suspiciously.
"Nobody knew that you were coming besides Master Marka, and maybe a few others. He only told me as I was fleeing, spoke in my mind…somehow," said Lorn, slightly mystified. "Anyways, if we were soldiers of the Empire we would have been properly prepared for the gas, and not be in the state you see us in now. And we certainly wouldn't be trapped on this largely uninhabited world with no possible way to get off it."
Carth nodded "Okay, you've made your point, but how did you get away?"
Lorn explained to Carth and Bastila what had happened that fateful night three days ago, how they'd been taken unawares by the surprise assault. How he and Lia had escaped the gassing and fled in the speeder, the terror beast at the entrance distracted by Marka. When they reached the forest three Empire speeders had pursued them. A high-speed chase had followed, with Lorn and Lia cheating death at every turn. Eventually Lia had shot two down, while the last had crashed. Lorn and Lia had then waited three days before returning to the academy, coming just in time to greet the Republic landing pods. At Carth's request Lorn went back to his description of the Terantatek blocking the main entrance.
Bastila shook her head. "The largest Terantatek ever recorded was two and a half meters tall, five meters long, and that was a freak," she said coolly from behind her mask, "You must have seen an immature Rancor, or you are exaggerating."
Lorn shook his head "Madame Jedi, I am a military man. I do not overstate, and I know what I saw."
Right on cue Mission's voice crackled over the intercom. "Ah guys, I think you'd better come and see this."
Marka's CellMarka tossed and turned in his sleep, his wounds leaking blood slowly. He cried out in anger and anguish, and gripped onto the sides of his bed as he relived every moment of that fateful night.
His entire world was filled with the thick, green-yellow gas. The darkness deepened it, making it solid, like murky liquid beyond a few meters. Flashes of light illuminated it in places, unseen people screamed as they died. Hisses of blaster fire whirrs of lightsabers and thuds of explosions filled the air. Marka had never been in combat quite like this. Except for the occasional scream everybody fought in silence, there were no orders being shouted, no battle roars. The gas burned his skin and his eyes, and would have had him unconscious if he hadn't known how to sustain himself with the Force.
Marka would have been totally lost if he hadn't known the academy like the back of his hand. Everywhere he felt Force signatures, but he couldn't always tell if they were friend or foe, awake or unconscious. There were even masked Sith stalking the streets, making it impossible for Marka to rely on Force sensitivity to determine his enemies and allies, although the conscious non-sensitives were almost always enemies. The whole scenario was surreal and eerie. The worst part was that a massive Terantatek had latched onto his signature and was hunting him. He was playing a terrifying game of cat and mouse with a creature that could sense his presence with ease, while remaining invisible in the gas and undetectable through the Force.
Marka moved as close to the wall as he could; minimizing the directions that his hunter could attack him from. An Empire Sith nearly ran into him, Marka dispatched him before he had a chance to recover.
A sudden premonition warned him, he dived away milliseconds before a huge, clawed hand smashed into the wall, showering him with gravel and plaster. The mammoth beast let out a roar of pain and frustration as it struck out again. Marka gave a huge leap to the top of the building to evade the second blow and escape it.
On top of the building now, Marka was above the gas-sea. He could see now that the walls of the settlement were containing the gas, forming a basin. Immediately he spotted hundreds of soldiers armed with powerful stun rifles lined the walls, they were obviously there to prevent any of the academy's residents escaping. One particularly eagle eyed one saw him immediately and started firing. Marka defended, the shots dissipating on his double-saber rather than rebounding. Before more could start taking pot shots at him he leapt off the building, filling his lungs with blessed oxygen before falling back into the green-yellow abyss.
Landing cat-like, he concentrated on his bond as he searched for Kaya. He had to find her. He ran into an area where the gas was not so thick, he could see up to twenty meters. There she was, at the edge of his vision, out cold. He would know if she were dead. She lay amongst a small group of stunned ex-Sith, Marka recognized ash-blonde Ramon lying face up, and was the blonde woman lying with her arm across him Banali?
His blood ran cold as he heard a loud 'thump, Thump, THUMP'. The terror beast was approaching, and it was not bothering to move silently. It was not stalking him; it must be going for the easier prey.
"Kaya," he whispered horrified, sacrificing all the stale air in his body to say her name. He sprinted to stand between his fallen comrades, supporters, wife and the huge Terantatek. The beast let out a scream-roar of anger and hunger, and charged at him. Bred by ancient Sith, these creatures had been created with the sole purpose of killing Jedi. This time instead of fleeing, Marka de-activated his double-saber and charged back.
Man and beast closed the distance between each other. The Terantatek gave a wild swing at him; Marka lunged forward, towards the beast. The blow missed him by millimeters, tearing his robes. Rolling at the end of his dive, he came up beneath the huge creature. Immediately he activated a single beam of his double-blades. Energizing it to maximum power he ripped through the terror-beast's vulnerable belly, ducked between the creature's legs, and lay low as the animal's momentum carried it over him. The massive Terantateks insides sploshed on the stone floor as it stopped, it let out a high-pitched scream of pain and turned, falling down and swinging at him in death throes.
Marka was rising when the first immense clawed hand came at him. He scrambled out of the way, but was off balance when the second blow came down at his head. Instinctively, he swung his blade and blocked the taloned hand at the wrist. The mammoth creature was far stronger than he was, and the pressure drove him to his knees. If the creature hadn't been at the edge of its arms' range and immobilized by its horrendous wound he would certainly already be dead. Marka gritted his teeth, the claws were coming closer and closer. Then the first clawed hand stabbed at him again. Focusing nearly all his Force ability into his strength he activated and elongated his second blade, catching the talons between the middle two fingers. The force of the blow nearly bowled him over. For eternal seconds they were locked; Marka's strength failing fast. The claws were so close he could see the waxy sheen of venom on them. They were getting closer and closer.
Suddenly the claws of second hand relaxed and the pressure they were exerting was released. Marka looked up to see the last strands of the wrist being burned away, that blade was still running at maximum power! Quickly he tried to pull away without allowing the other talons to stab him. He succeeded in the last part, but the falling claws of the severed hand grazed his face as they fell. Marka shuddered as white-hot poison coursed through his veins. He couldn't scream; he had no breath in his lungs to scream with.
Somehow he managed to pull himself out of range of the enormous Terantatek. His body was starting to die; the poison was doing its deadly work. For a moment he was tempted to let it kill him rather than allow himself to be taken captive by the Sith. He knew exactly what tender mercies awaited him with them. Then his gaze fell upon Kaya's unconscious form, he had to protect her! He looked at the academy residents lying beside her; he had a duty towards them as well. Summoning up all his remaining power he focused it on purging the poison from his system. Both Never and Kaya had taught him how to heal himself and others, but this was the first time that he had attempted something this difficult.
Dimly he was aware that the Force-damned beast was still alive, and slowly dragging itself towards him on its chest. Its claws were scratching deep furrows into the polished sandstone floor. That will be very expensive to get repaired, he thought absurdly. Marka slowly backed away as he tried to flush out the poison from his body. He was getting weaker and weaker, his dying executioner closer and closer. His back struck a wall, and he slid down against it. The creature raised its remaining hand; Marka could see the burn marks between its clawed fingers. He looked at the Terantatek dully through eyes so sore they could barely see; he could no longer fight it; so all he could do was accept his fate.
Then a miracle happened, before it could strike the killing blow, all of the Terantateks muscles relaxed. Its great head struck the floor with a mighty 'thud'; its deadly claws fell, just missing him. Marka was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he realized what a bad idea that would be. He resumed his task of purging the poison from his body.
A few minutes later he was strong enough to stand, although he felt drained and weak. The noise and flashes had died down; Marka guessed that all resistance had been crushed. The first thing he realized as he stood up was that his double-saber had gone. Frantic, he searched for it.
Before he'd had a chance to look properly, an Empire legionnaire came into his field of vision. They saw each other at the same time, the soldier tapped the emergency button on his comm.-link and swiveled his gun to fire. Marka motioned with hand, ripping off the soldier's mask. The trooper gasped, clawed at the air and fell unconscious. Marka pulled the mask onto his face, wincing with pain as it touched his wounds. Finally able to breathe, he started to recover some of his strength. He retrieved the fallen soldier's gun, disgusted to find that it was a Stun Rifle. It had an attached grenade launcher of course, but no grenades.
Another legionnaire ran into his vision, summoned by his comrade's emergency signal. He fired at Marka, who motioned with his hand, creating an invisible barrier that absorbed the shots. Cursing, the soldier drew his concussion baton and ran at him. Marka tried to shoot him down, but the armour the soldier was wearing was designed to resist stunners. As the legionnaire reached him, Marka turned the rifle around and swung it like a club. He disarmed the soldier with his first swing, and broke the rifle on his body with the second. Marka finished him off with a skull-crushing blow to the temple.
A shot thudded into Marka's side, flooring him. As he struggled to rise, he saw yet another Empire soldier coming towards him, this one looked like a woman. Using the Force he gripped her neck, and with a quick twist snapped it like a twig. There was no room for chivalry in combat. More soldiers came at him, two more shots lashed into him. With the last of his strength he blasted at them with lightning, killing three. Two more shots sent him sprawling into the ground. The world faded from yellow-green to black.
Marka groaned as the dream ended and he sunk into deep healing sleep.
Ruins of the Sedan Sith AcademyKaah Ohtok stared at the monstrous creature. Even in death it was terrifying. He stayed a safe distance away from it, despite the fact it had been dead for days. How could anything be so big? How could something that big even be killed? In all honesty, Kaah knew that if he had found the creature alive, he would have run and hid rather than fought. It took teams of Jedi to kill such creatures, even at normal size. Carth, Bastila and the man and woman they had found in the academy came into view; they looked every bit as fearful of the monster as Kaah felt.
"Six-point-nine-one meters long. It would have stood about three-point-four-two meters tall, a new record," announced Padawan Mira, who was busy taking measurements. Kaah shook his head. Who worried about petty things like records at a time like this? Mission was plainly scared of the thing, and terribly heartbroken at seeing all the death around the ruined academy. While she tried to conceal it, she had always been a gentle soul. Kaah walked up to her and hugged her close.
She began to weep against his chest. "What are we going to do now Kaah? We've come all this way and the entire academy that we were going to evacuate has been captured." She was beginning to make the front of his robes wet. Her breath-mask rubbing against his chest was starting to hurt.
"The Admiral will think of something," said Kaah soothingly. Unlike Mission, he was not on first name terms with Admiral Carth Onasi yet.
"And if he doesn't?"
Kaah sighed "Then we'll have to go back to the Republic, and pray that we will be ready when the war comes." Mission's body began to shake with sobs. He hugged her tighter and began to stroke her lekku.
All of the soldiers and Jedi were standing at least ten meters away from the colossal Terantatek. But the former bounty hunter Mira, having finished her measurements, unclipped her lightsaber and moved to the creature's head.
"What are you doing?" cried Dustil.
Mira turned and flashed a brilliant smile for her young husband "Think what a great trophy it would make!" she declared gaily.
"Careful, all of its pointy bits are covered in poison," called the Admiral from further away.
Mira shook her head biting back a sharp retort, who did he think she was, and amateur? It was common knowledge to anybody who knew anything about Terantateks that even a small scratch from them was potentially fatal. Carefully Mira maneuvered herself to behind the vast monstrosity's head and ignited her orange lightsaber. She slowly began cutting through the creature's thick neck. It gave her lightsaber more resistance than the best durasteel. Dustil approached, it looked as though he was searching for something.
"What're you looking for, lover-boy?" she asked mischievously as she continued cutting.
Dustil rewarded her with a blush. She only ever called him that name in private, "How this thing was killed, and by who?" he said wonderingly.
Mira pointed with her free hand at the trail of entrails behind the Terantatek, and the deep gouges in the sandstone floor. "Obviously it was sliced open and it dragged itself quite a way before it died."
"And what weapon do you think they used?"
Mira shook her head; sometimes her husband wasn't the brightest spark. "It was almost certainly a lightsaber," she said. "They're about the only things that can cut through this creature's skin. He must have persuaded the creature to stay still for a very long time…" she was still cutting; the beast had incredibly tough skin "…or had an incredibly powerful lightsaber." She paused, "The person who killed it must have survived the fight, I don't see any bodies nearby."
"I don't know about that," said Dustil. He was motioning to a pool of dried blood near to the wall with no body nearby; droplets of blood were everywhere. Nearby, one of the Terantatek's hands lay, severed at the wrist. Dustil plucked something off one of the claws, "This looks like a piece of ear," he said, and flicked it away in disgust. "If the person survived the blow, they will be dead of the poison anyway."
At that point Mira cut through the last strands of the creature's neck. As the head fell away, Mira spied a double-bladed lightsaber that had previously been hidden beneath the colossal head. She was no authority on lightsaber construction, but even with her untrained eye she could tell that it was expertly made. She bent down and picked it up.
"I'd be prepared to wager that this admirable weapon belonged to the one who killed the creature," said Mira as she straightened, "and that he or she is still alive, otherwise the Sith would have left him where he fell; like all the others."
She ignited the double-blades. They hummed white-purple.
"I had hoped that my wife and daughter might survive, but they were killed in a bombing run two weeks into the war. I only found out after I had left the Sith and come here. And the information that I supplied to the rebels killed my son. His squadron was involved in that same bombing run. It was anticipated, because of me. They were all shot down, but not before they delivered their pay-load," Lorn told Admiral Onasi in a flat, emotionless voice.
There was a bitter irony somewhere there, all he had ever cared about, a life's worth of happiness shattered in a single minor engagement. An engagement so small that it wouldn't even be worth mention in military records. And all his work to save his family had cost him his son, and put him on the run. All his grief had been burned out months ago. Now he was a shell of a man, destroying the Sith his only desire and reason to live. Six months of hatred had set his soul with the pure resolve of revenge. Lorn finished explaining his story to Admiral Onasi, how he had ended up aiding the rebels, lost his entire family, been found out and forced to seek asylum at the academy. The Admiral nodded sympathetically at the end, sadness in his brown eyes.
"I know what its like to lose a wife" Onasi said sadly. "I served to help destroy the Sith after they took her away from me. At least I still have Dustil." He motioned fondly at the young Jedi who was busy dragging the Terantatek's head away with thick Durasteel ropes.
Lorn gave a sad smile and said softly "What I wouldn't give to have my son back." Lia put her arms around him, and rubbed his shoulder. Something stirred in the Republic Admiral's face.
"I don't mean to intrude Carth," said the Jedi Bastila, noticing Onasi's expression as well, "but we are in hostile territory. If there is nothing here for us, we'd better leave before the Sith return."
"True, we don't even know where these Sith who turned were taken," the Admiral replied, his attention diverted.
"There is only one place that Sith who rebel or stray from the teachings of the dark-side are taken to," said Lorn softly.
O'Dus prison, Pandema system – Marka's Cell
"AWAKEN"
Marka sat bolt upright in his bed. All the pain, bruises and cramps of his body hit him at once, he groaned and nearly fell over. Slowly he turned his head, seeing out of swollen and bleary eyes the distinct black shape of his old Master. Rengath Fer'rer's yellow eyes were narrowed in controlled rage. Gradually Marka took in his surroundings; he was in a small prison cell. It was about 3 by 4 meters, with only a toilet in the corner besides the hard bed he was lying on. The door was a thick slab; there were no windows, only two air vents too small to fit anything larger than his hand into.
I'd be prepared to bet my lightsaber that this is a maximum security cell on Dus he thought, and then remembered that he didn't have his double-bladed lightsaber on him anymore. He felt at his neck, sure enough, there was a Force-inhibitor around it.
Dus was the prison moon of the Sith empire. A place of massive dark energies, it was a popular training ground for Sith, although no academy had ever lasted there. Sith legend had it that Darth Messiah himself had tainted the place with the blood of all his rivals when he had risen to power. The dark side slowly twisted the prisoners, driving them mad. Some took weeks, most took a few months, a very few even took years. But they all went mad in the end; the dark side was that strong there. In its nine hundred years as a prison, no one had ever successfully escaped from Dus, and all rescue attempts had been crushed by the substantial garrisons on the other moons and the resident fleet. Dus orbited Pandema, so there was always at least one fleet of ships patrolling the system, if not more. Not surprising, considering that Pandema was the throne world of the Dark Lord.
Rengath was clearly angry Marka hadn't acknowledged him; he threw him off his bed. Marka skidded along the floor, crashing hard against the wall.
"Why did you betray me, my apprentice" Rengath hissed softly "Speak!"
Marka's vision went red, rage poured through his veins, strengthening his battered body. Without a word he launched himself at his old Master, his fingers like claws, teeth bared. A solid blast of Force struck him in the stomach, sending him crashing into the ceiling. He was pinned for a moment, and then Rengath let him drop. Marka fell a short distance to the floor, doubled over in agony and cradling his stomach. He crawled painfully to the toilet and vomited noisily. With nothing in his stomach only green gunge came up.
"I am impressed with your ability though," Rengath continued, as though nothing had happened, "killing that Terantatek single handedly. Do you know how difficult it was to capture that thing? I've never even heard of one larger. Few could have duplicated that feat, very, very few."
Marka seethed with anger, gripping onto the toilet as hard as he could to prevent himself from launching at Rengath again. He had never known himself to be so emotional, but he clung to his anger to prevent the despair of his situation from crushing him. The side of his face was hot and throbbing.
"Your combat techniques are something that all Sith could aspire to," said Rengath "and your power has nearly doubled since I left you. You also have the loyalty and affection of my entire fallen academy."
Marka focused on the contents of the toilet. They were prettier then his old Master's white putty-like face.
"For these reasons I am prepared to take you back as my apprentice, with you at my side the rest will fall back quickly to the true path. You have proven yourself now as great as Jadan, together we three will be unstoppable. As Master and apprentices we will crush the Republic, and then wrestle control of the very Empire!"
"I'll never turn the dark side," snarled Marka balefully, breaking his silence.
Rengath cackled evilly "Look at yourself Marka, you already have." He motioned with his hand, and the air between him and Marka solidified into a liquid mirror.
Marka gasped as he stared at his reflection. Bruised and scrapes adorned every part of his battered body, his robes were dusty and torn. The wounds the Terantatek's claws had inflicted were horrendous; half his left ear had been ripped off. Two vertical lines on either side of his eye had shredded the left side of his face, they continued down his chest. They had sealed and were healing, but Marka could tell that they were deep enough to scar him badly for the rest of his life. The damage that the Terantatek and the battle had done to him though paled in comparison to what else he saw. His face was grey, veins stuck out under his skin. The dark side had ravaged every part of his body, giving him the look of a fresh cadaver. His eyes glowed yellow.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?" Marka screamed.
Rengath cackled louder as he allowed the Force mirror to fade. Reaching into his pitch-black robes he produced a tiny glass vile, half filled with a strange substance with the texture of syrup. It was changing colours, moving as though it were alive. "Do you know what this is?" he said.
Marka did not, but whatever it was he knew that he wouldn't like what he was about to hear. Rengath Fer'rer was unlikely at this point to be giving him some miracle-healing salve for his wounds. Its swirling colours were mesmerizing, blood red to bright yellow; sickly green to black as night.
"It is Sith poison, pure distilled dark side." Rengath told him. "A recipe created and perfected by the ancient Sith alchemists. It magnifies all emotions, except for those that make you weak. In ancient times, it was given to Sith apprentices who fell away from the true path, just as I have given it to you. But I gave you half the bottle; twenty times the required dosage. I cannot wait, my apprentice. Soon you will serve the dark side again, you have no choice."
"There is always a choice," said Marka. He focused on all that Never and Kaya had taught him about the light side of the Force, trying to calm the wildfire inside him. He could feel the poison run through his veins like magma, wrecking havoc amongst his emotions, distorting everything he felt.
Rengath looked at him for a moment, while Marka slowly gained control, then he lifted him high with the Force. Marka grunted as he crashed into the ceiling again. Rengath proceeded to fling him around the room from wall to wall, making him strike progressively harder, his face showing exactly how much pleasure hurting Marka gave him. The room was small, so the impact was lessened, but Marka was hurled onto solid steel. Finally Rengath let him drop, giving a contented sigh, like a thirsty man who had just drunk. Marka carefully pulled his bruised body up, trembling with rage.
"I can feel your anger" Rengath crooned "Give in to it! It gnaws at your heart, burning your soul."
There was a loud click, and the Force inhibitor around Marka's neck fell away. Marka stared at it, not daring to believe.
"Your passion gives you strength, use it, strike me down," whispered Rengath.
Marka wanted to; Force, he had never wanted to do anything so badly in his life. But he knew that while his lightsaber skills were exceptional, he was no match in Force ability for Rengath Fer'rer. If he struck out at him it would only hasten his fall. How he loathed the man, what he wouldn't give for his lightsaber now.
"I can feel your hatred, it feeds you; giving you power." said Rengath "With each passing moment you become again more and more…mine!"
Marka focused all his emotions into a single point, a complex Grey's technique that Laman had taught him. Normally they would condense to a flickering flame, but when he was finally able to feed all his emotions into the point; it burned like a bonfire. With an effort that would shake mountains, Marka snuffed the bonfire out. Pain; pure blinding white agony gripped every fiber of his being. His very bones were on fire; lava was casing his skull. Marka screamed, contorting on the floor. His muscles were scalding; his blood was boiling. Then it was over, he was weak, shaking and gasping for air, but he had control over his emotions. Defiantly, he grabbed the Force inhibitor and attached it around his neck again; it gave a click as it locked back into place.
Rengath stopped gloating and stared at him. "I don't know how you are doing it, my apprentice, but somehow you are resisting the effects of the poison." The Sith Master sounded impressed, "You will come around in the end," he said confidently. "There is no antidote for Sith poison, it cannot be purged with healing and does not dissipate with time. Still, that may take some time, with you resisting the way you are. So far all your Greys," Rengath snarled, "my old students and retainers, have been most resilient in my efforts to convert them back. But if they see you return, their resistance will crumble."
Marka looked his old Master in the eye, reciting in his mind the Jedi Code that Kaya had taught to him. He was still shivering with the memory of pain. 'There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no chaos; there is harmony. There is no death; there is the Force.' That code would need some serious adjustments; it was highly philosophical and not very practical. No sane person could possibly live by a code like that. But at the moment he needed to take the first line to heart, and have no emotion. Any emotion he did have would be magnified to the point of being uncontrollable.
"You will be tutored in the ways of the dark-side by the greatest Masters of it," Rengath decided. "I didn't want to do this, except as a last resort. It might…damage…you." He cackled, motioning with his hand, and thirteen small panels in various places of the walls opened to expose a small Sith holocron in each. Marka visibly paled, Sith holocrons had been known to drive people mad within days, without the influence of an overdose of Sith poison. "Have fun, my apprentice," sneered Rengath, the heavy door opened. Laughing, he left the room.
As the door sealed shut, the lights went out; and the Sith holocrons began screaming, mocking, moaning. The only thing to be seen in the pitch-black room was the faint red light from the holocroms, and the glowing golden eyes of Marka Cabanic.
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The 'Archon', Dakotan asteroid field, Sedan system
The 'Archon' lay in wait, hidden by the electromagnetic rocks of the Asteroid field as it waited for an Empire ship to respond to the fake distress call. The operation was a very tricky one, and would require careful handling. The Republic ships needed to be able to access the hyperspace routes to get to the prison moon, O'Dus, if any rescue attempt was to be possible. And for that they needed to capture an Empire ship with its navigational logs intact.
Mission Ohtok was covered in grease, trying with her team to repair the temperamental tractor-beam generator. Force, how she hated being posted on prototype ships, there was never any end to the repairs. As she wiped the sweat off her brow with an oily cloth, she reminded herself that she had chosen to come on the mission, so she couldn't really complain. But what had originally been a simple pick-up mission from enemy territory had turned into an elaborate raid in the heart of Empire territory, the dangers were now so much greater, her responsibilities so much more. Her comm.-link started to beep.
"Mission here," she said as she activated it. "Is that you, Admiral?"
"Roger," said Carth Onasi from the other end of the line. "We've got a Sith cruiser coming into range. I need that tractor-beam ready five minutes ago."
From the other end of the line Mission heard somebody exclaim in the background "That's the 'Jaeger', my old ship!" The comm.-link winked out, and Mission felt the ship shudder slightly as the engines fired up. After a few minutes, which Mission and her technicians used to seal everything up, the tractor-beam generator began to hum. Mission smiled; it was working perfectly. Then the generator coughed, and winked out. It started again, coughed twice, and winked out again. This time it didn't re-start.
Carth patched through to her "What in the name of the chosen one is happening down there, the ship is about to escape!"
Mission's insides froze. If the ship was allowed to escape the communication barrier they set up, it would surely contact the Empire's fleets and inform them as to their whereabouts. They would be forced to flee to the Republic abandoning the rescue effort. And it would all be her, Mission's, fault.
"Come on, you useless piece of junk," she shouted, kicking it hard. The only thing she received for her troubles was a throbbing foot. But as Mission danced on her undamaged leg, the tractor-beam generator sprung to life again.
"I did it!" she cried, sitting down on the floor to stop her foot from aching. "I am a genius."
O'Dus prison, Pandema system – Main holding Cells
Banali returned from her torture session quivering. She was led back into her private cell, with not even enough space to lie down. Kaya's heart went out to her as she watched her sit down in her cell and weep.
All of the Sedan ex-Sith besides Marka were being kept in vast open halls inside the prison complex, they each contained hundreds of shielded cells. Torturers were constantly moving among them, randomly choosing victims. The vibe had been good at first among the Sedan ex-Sith, they had joked around and half-hearted teased the guards, offering encouragement for each other and even pleaded with the torturers to be chosen next. Four days with no water or food and constant torture had dried up their spirits. They all knew how to last without sleep and water for greater periods than normal, but even still under such conditions they could not last much longer. They were getting weaker by the day, and there was no end in sight. For the first time some of them were in danger of slipping back into darkness, just to prevent the nightmare from continuing.
But Kaya knew that as bad as they had it here, Marka had it far worse. He had been blocking her almost since he'd woken up, but from what she felt from their bond that he'd unwittingly let through before he'd blocked her out she knew what was being done to him made their suffering seem like pleasure.
"Be strong, my heart," she prayed.
All their hopes now rested in a message a man they knew nothing about might have sent.
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The 'Archon', Dakotan asteroid field, Sedan system
"Here are all the co-ordinates for the prison-moon, Admiral," said Lorn, handing a datapad to Onasi.
"How did you get it so quickly?" asked Carth Onasi suspiciously. "Surely there are security systems on the ship to prevent that from happening."
Lorn sighed "Admiral Onasi," he said, "I was an officer on it for fifteen years. I worked my way up from sub-lieutenant up to commander on that ship. I probably know the ins and outs of it better than anyone else." The constant suspicion of the man was beginning to annoy Lorn.
The Admiral didn't bother to apologize; he merely glanced at the datapad before handing it to one of his pilots. He started issuing orders regarding to the distribution of the data and the preparation of the fleet. He blatantly ignored Lorn for the next half hour, and when he noticed that Lorn was still with him all he said was, "You're still here."
Lorn's anger flared, but with a lifetime of controlling his emotions among Sith he mastered it quickly. "Sir, I must request that I be allowed to take command of the 'Jaeger'."
"Why should I allow you to do that?"
Lorn had to tighten his fists to prevent any other sign of his fury from showing. "Admiral," he said stiffly, perhaps too formally, "We will be going into the most heavily fortified system in Sith space, we will need every ship. If you plan to use the 'Jaeger', you will have to install a crew who are unused to it, unsure of the controls. It would be in the best interests of the mission if they at least had a commander who knew the ship."
"Fine," said Onasi, his tone nothing short of a snarl.
"And I would appreciate it if you would post Miss Hael there as well. She is the only one on our side, besides myself, who has any experience on the ship, or any Empire vessel for that matter."
Admiral Onasi turned quickly to face Lorn, his expression dangerously neutral. Suddenly it clicked in Lorn's head, this man was jealous of Lia's affection for him. Lorn had known for a while that he could easily pursue a relationship with her, but the pain of losing of his family had originally prevented him from doing so. His loss felt so raw that even thinking about another woman that way was like cheating on his wife. Six months had taken the sting out of it though, and now knowing that another man was interested in Lia made her automatically more desirable. Lorn resolved to get closer to her, and stake his claim.
"I'll go and tell the lieutenant then, Sir," Lorn said when Admiral Onasi did not reply. He turned smartly and marched out of bridge. As he left Onasi in his wake, he couldn't help but think round one, to me.
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O'Dus prison, Pandema system – Marka's Cell
Marka sat on the cold metal floor, meditating.
For four days now he had been given no food or water. He hadn't slept; the screaming Sith holocrons made it impossible. He didn't understand the language they spoke, if indeed it was a language, but they conjured horrific images in his mind that were enough to drive him mad. He had meditated for four days, trying to resist the dark side. He had tried concentrating on his kinder emotions, but they had quickly led to darker ones. And he could not shake the hold fear and anger currently had on his heart. Meditation detached him from all his emotions, which were amplified a hundred times over by the Sith poison in his veins.
Marka stood over young Sindra, who lay still. Her pants had been ripped down to her ankles. Her limbs were stiff and twisted in odd angles, like a toy doll. She turned her dull eyes upon him and said, "You said you would protect me."
Marka's closed left eye twitched uncontrollably as the vision ended, but otherwise he gave no indication it had affected him, and remained in his meditation. The visions were stuff of nightmares. They were never the same; it was like the holocrons were probing for a chink in his defenses, trying to find what would make him tick. They were getting consistently worse too, and Marka was getting weaker by the day with the constant mental and emotional battering. He could feel Kaya on the other side of his bond, she was sick with worry for him. She couldn't be too far away, judging by how strongly he sensed her emotions she must be on the same complex, and less that half a kilometer away. But he couldn't afford to feel anything towards her, not now. Marka had built barriers to prevent her from affecting him.
Marka was on a barren plain on Arn. Pierce stood before him, his side facing Marka, covered in wounds but alive. With a cry of delight Marka swooped in to embrace him. Then Pierce turned to face him, half his face was sheared away. He looked down, Marka followed his gaze, horrified to see Pierce's wife Icadrin lying at his feet. Pierce opened his shattered mouth and said: "You permitted this."
The pure malice of the image caused Marka to flinch and break his meditation. With his defenses down the next vision drew him far deeper in.
He stood outside the Sedan academy and town's walls, the gates opened for him unbidden and unmanned. Everything beyond them was destroyed. He was walking through the academy where he had spent most of his life. Everywhere was in destruction and death; the streets were awash with blood. Bodies of those who had followed him seemed to stare at him accusingly, every one of their dead eyes saying: "We trusted you."
Marka reeled as though being subjected to physical blows, trying in vain to resume his meditation. As though sensing weakness the holocrons intensified their assault, shouting ever more horrifying images into his head.
Marka was walking towards a room; he couldn't stop himself. There were screams and cries of delight coming from it. Marka extended his hand and the door opened. There was his beloved wife, Kaya, and Ramon, engaging in sexual bondage before his eyes. Marka turned and fled, but their mingled cries of ecstasy grew louder and louder the further he ran away. Suddenly he was in front of the scene again, Ramon turned to him and said: "You tried to suppress me."
Marka moaned, covering his ears with his hands. "No more, no more," he begged.
Marka was with Kaya, smiling at their newborn child in her arms. Kaya raised their baby to her lips, as though to kiss it. Tenderly she lowered her head to its neck and opened her mouth. Leisurely she bit through the infant's neck, ignoring its screams. Marka cried out, and tried stop her, but it was like there was an invisible barrier in his way. Rich, red blood spurted as Kaya ripped the newborn's head off. Blood was dripping from her mouth as she said: "You didn't want this child."
Bile spurted from his throat, Marka vomited on the floor, no strength to make it to the toilet. "I can't take it, I can't take it any more," he moaned pathetically, spittle dripping down his lip, "Make it stop. I DON'T CARE ANYMORE." he screamed suddenly "The dark side can…"
The holocroms stopped screaming, Marka opened his eyes and raised his head. There stood his father, Harn, glowing brightly. Marka broke down and wept.
"I know, I killed you, you don't have to say it. Please." He whimpered.
"You had no other choice," said Harn.
Marka stopped weeping and drew a ragged breath, raising his head slowly. "Dad?" he said, not daring to believe.
Harn's gleaming face split into a grin. "In the flesh…well, not quite."
Marka tentatively put a hand on his father; it went right through. "Is that really you?" asked Marka. "How can you be here, you're…well…"
"Dead," finished Harn, smiling. "I know."
"Then how?"
"The spirit does not die with the body. We all have a different journey that we take after life, according to how we lived."
Marka stared at him, not listening to a word he said, "It is really you!"
"Of course it is, my boy," his father replied, snorting with amusement. Then his air changed, his manner becoming more business-like. "I have stalled the poison in your system, but when I go it will return in full force, that was the best I could do."
"Its okay," said Marka gratefully.
"What you don't know," continued Harn, "is that Sith poison can be beaten."
"It can?"
"By resisting the lure of the dark side five times."
'And how would I know which efforts constituted resisting the dark side?' Marka thought.
Harn answered his thoughts as he continued, "Your efforts to resist for the last four days count as though you had resisted twice. Your control in front of Fer'rer counts again. Therefore you have to resist just twice more to be free. But be warned, it will get even harder to resist. And if you give in even once, you have to start all over again."
"I came so close," murmured Marka.
Harn nodded. "When I leave, the holocrons will start again. But you will not have to endure them for long, help is on its way."
"Who, Never? The Republic?"
Harn shook his head. "That I cannot tell you," he sighed."I must leave."
"Wait," cried Marka. "Will I ever see you again?"
"That I cannot tell you," Harn repeated.
"Is there anything you can tell me?" begged Marka, wondering who in the afterlife made the rules.
Harn paused. "Only this: There will come a time when the one you know as 'Never' will ask you to do something that will break your heart, and the heart of one you love. You must do this thing; the fate of the galaxy depends on it."
Marka struggled to imagine what that would be, but then he noticed that his father was fading. "Dad!" he cried in anguish, his fingers going through his father's insubstantial face.
"Proud of you, m'boy," said Harn, smiling as he faded from view,
Suddenly the holocrons started to scream again as though they had never stopped, and Marka felt the heat of the Sith poison re-enter his blood stream. They both seemed more intense after the brief respite. But Marka was stronger now, and resumed his meditation, cutting out all emotions. As Marka entered deep Meditation, he thought he heard the hint of a whisper.
"Remember the prophecy."----------------------------------------------
The 'Jaeger' – Space, Pandema systemThe Republic fleet blasted out of hyperspace with one Sith cruiser added to their number. In the distance was a large speck, which Lorn knew was Pandema, the dark planet, the throne world of the Dark Lord of the Sith. It was the most highly fortified system in Sith space, with numerous space stations, weapons storehouses and the greatest concentration of ship- and armament-building facilities in the Empire. It was here where the largest Sith academy resided, the Dark Lord's own, it had nearly a thousand resident Sith and apprentices. Lorn knew that there were generally at least twice as many ships patrolling the system as the size of this Republic fleet. Twelve thousand ships might be the best that the Republic could come up with at this time, but it wasn't going to be enough.
"So O'Dus is one of the moons of Pandema?" asked the Jedi Master Bastila, who had chosen to travel on Lorn's vessel rather than the already notoriously unpredictable and bumpy 'Archon'.
"Yes," answered Lorn. "There are five moons in all. Three of them are covered with industry, shipbuilding especially. Their names are Munn, Vonan and Nebi. The fourth, Plau, is uninhabitable due to its extremely volatile volcanic surface. Dus, the shadow-moon, is the fifth. There is nothing on its surface but black rock and five massive scattered prison complexes."
Bastila, who had been silent throughout the explanation, shot an angry glance at some crewmembers who had stopped what they were doing to listen to Lorn. As soon as they saw her expression they scampered away. "And which one do you think they'll be in?" she said.
"Every prison complex is known by a vowel attached to the moon's name," explained Lorn. "Most of them will probably be filled now with rebels. But there is one that situated on the center of the moon's dark power that is only ever used for Force sensitive who are to be turned, and Sith who have betrayed the Dark Lord. It is there the Greys will be."
"And what is its name?" asked Bastila.
"O'Dus," whispered Lorn. It was said that the very soul of the Dark Lord resided there; the moon was evil.
"Why didn't they simply kill the rebels when they were caught?"
"They aren't doing them any favours by keeping them alive there," Lorn retorted, perhaps more sharply than he meant to. "Believe me when I say that death is infinitely more preferable."
They stood in silence, watching the bright spark of Pandema grow ever larger. After a short while, the voice of Admiral Carth Onasi was relayed through every intercom of every ship. Every ear on board the 'Jaeger' listened intently.
"You all know the stakes, the success or failure of this mission could very well determine whether or not the Republic will be able to weather this upcoming storm. Here we stand, in the heart of this 'Dark Empire'. And yet our objective is not one of destruction, but of mercy. We each have a part to play, and I expect every man and woman here to do their duty. We fight for our comrades, our friends, our families, our children. But most of all, we fight for peace. When this day is done, the Sith will know and have cause to fear us. Long live the Republic!"
The 'Jaeger' erupted with cheers. Even Lorn gave grudging applause; it had been a pretty speech. He turned to see Lia at the communications console, she was cheering as hard as the Republic crewmembers, her face flushed. Lorn grimaced, round two to him.
The Republic ships flew ever closer to Pandema, and the shadow-moon Dus. On the monitors, Lorn could see Empire ships scurrying to form up into a sizable fleet. He folded his arms and said softly, "The opening has long since done. Play has been made; the pieces are in position. Now the endgame begins."
Stay tuned for 'The Rescue of O'Dus", Part 8 of Star Wars: The Dark Empire Episode 1 – Exodus