Ashes of Redemption Chapter 14, a star wars fanfic

Author's note:

Okay, so here's the next chapter, I hope you all like it. Damn, this storey just keeps growing and growing, I thought there was only going to be like 12 chapters but here I am at chapter 14 and I still have a couple more. I'm kind of keen to get it finished now so I can start my next storey but I certainly don't want to only half do this one.

Big thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, you guys are awesome. One thing I would like to know is who is everyone's most hated villain from this storey? Mine is Kulhoun, he's a dick. Although I certainly wouldn't want to meet Motten.

A warning; this chapter is kind of graphic in places. Please do not read it if you are disturbed by images of violence and blood and/or perverted, blood/death-phials (is a word?) people who get off on death anyway. This is meant to be an interesting storey and in no way meant to condone this sort of behavior.

Cheers.

Ashes of Redemption, a fanfic by Captin Azza.

Chapter Fourteen.

Her chest burned, her mind was in a haze.

There must be a way out of this, there has to be.

Bastila struggled to her hands and knees, gasping for breath. Motten's latest assault had left her weak and disorientated, she struggled to block out the pain and forced her body to move. She had not had a chance to recover after Motten's surprise attack.

I need time.

"You can end this at any time you like Bastila, one word and this pain will stop." Motten kneeled next to her as she slowly raised herself to face him, sweat and blood mingled on her forehead, her breaths were short, sharp and determined. She gritted her teeth.

"Go to hell you bastard."

Motten's fist delivered a hard, swift response. She found herself on the ground again, blood was gushing out of a painful wound in her mouth, it spilled out onto the floor leaving its taste on her tong and its smell in her nostrils. Bastila struggled to move herself again, she was having trouble determining up from down, nonetheless she persevered.

Revan, I will find you, I have to find you.

She could feel the force, she knew that if she were somehow able to distract him long enough for her to heal, she may then be able to fight him in earnest. She had already tried several times but Motten had hit her and broken her concentration. She needed more time.

They were in a long, narrow hallway with doors to laboratories opening out periodically, through a near by door she saw a trolley of equipment. Limp bodies of soldiers were scattered around the ground. She had dropped both of her weapons during Motten's attack but fortunately, the glowing blue sticks were difficult to miss, even in her disorientated state.

It was unlikely that any more soldiers would appear, T3 had somehow disabled the buildings interior sensors and its size and complexity meant that even a large force would take some time to locate them.

Where has that damn droid gone? She had not seen it for several minutes.

"One word and you can end this. I am your master; you merely need to address me as such." Motten stated. She struggled to comprehend how he seemed so immune to the force, as if he existed in a separate pocket of the galaxy where it did not. She knew that was impossible but she had no time to try to figure it out.

I'll just have to do this the hard way.

The assassin knelt down next to her again and reached toward her neck, Bastila used the force to draw one her lightsabers to her but Motten had anticipated the move, he grabbed her wrist before she could use the weapon.

The Jedi struggled against him but it was a loosing battle, Motten was much stronger than she was and he easily lifted her arm and forced her onto her back. Bastila resisted the urge to cry out in pain as she heard several of her joints crackling and buckling under pressure. She gritted her teeth and fought back with every once of strength she could muster.

She summoned her other lightsaber to her free hand and it flew through the air toward her until Motten was somehow able to hit it away with a swipe of his fist. It clattered to the ground across the hallway. His free arm whipped out and she felt his hand wrap around her neck, she instinctively gripped his wrist in a vein attempt to release herself but Motten's grip on her neck, like that on her other wrist, was unbreakable. He leaned toward her and whispered, she could feel her face going red, she was rapidly running out of energy. Her lungs were on fire.

"I will teach you the meaning of pain, you will shatter between my fingers."

Motten stood and lifted her into the air by her neck, she could see his lower jaw as he did, his skin was sickly pale with dried blood painted onto the corners of his mouth. A serrated, metallic saw had replaced his teeth and he seemed to have blood instead of saliva. She struggled meekly, in desperation and repulsion, clinging to his wrist and lifting herself to give a slight amount of relief.

The hopelessness of her situation was beginning to overwhelm her but only momentarily, I will not let this end like this; you will not stop me Motten. She would not let her last chance at happiness slip from her grasp. She thought about Revan and in the recesses of her mind was able to sense his life force through their bond although her connection to the force was rapidly diminishing, as was her grip on consciousness.

Remembering her Jedi training, she forced serenity upon herself, an effort that took almost inhuman amounts of willpower but Bastila's Jedi instincts, ingrained from years of training, responded to her summons and allowed her to subdue her fear and desperation. She forced her body to stop its futile struggles; she knew that she had only a very limited amount of time and energy.

Motten's vibroblade was on his belt and knowing she only had one chance, Bastila wrapped both of her legs around his chest, let go of his wrist and reached out below her. For a second it seemed as though the blade was still just a little too far but she moved her hand sideways and found it, wrapping her fingers around the handle, she drew the assassin's blade out of its sheath.

Motten realized that with both his hands occupied, he was defenseless and let go of her then pushed her away before she had a chance to strike him. She hit the ground hard but even in her state, raised her eyes and fixed him in her vision as she stubbornly started to pick herself up again. She was beyond the limit of endurance but she didn't care.

"You are a determined one but I will make you mine Bastila, you will see." Motten was circling her, he had not even bothered to draw his other blade.

"Better than you have tried," she replied with conviction, her capacity to speak with authority had not quite returned.

"But they didn't know you like I do Bastila, I know everything about you, I have studied you for these past few weeks, I know all your moves, everything about your technique, there is nothing you can do that will surprise me Bastila."

Clutching her side, where she suspected at least one of her ribs was broken, she slowly drew herself shakily onto her feet while Motten looked on with amusement. She was completely unsure what motivated him, he certainly wasn't interested in killing her since he could easily have done that but seemed to be getting a real lift out of watching her struggle.

The way he looked at her, it was as if her found her pain erotic. He was sick. It didn't matter.

"Study this." She replied through gritted teeth and with one hand threw the blade at him, with her other she used what force power she could to drive the trolley at him as well, that she was able to hurl the blade with such force surprised her but regardless, it flew at him. Motten's concentration was devoted entirely to the blade and he successfully picked it out of the air but he was unprepared for the trolley. It bowled into him at high speed and knocked him across the hallway before the equipment that had been resting on it dropped on him.

Bastila summoned the force once again and although she was weak, it came to her. Like she was standing under a warm shower after a cold night, she drenched herself with healing energies, pain washed off her like dirt. She felt herself becoming stronger, her vision and focus returned and at last, she knew she was ready to fight. The force flowed around her and within her, she could feel her connection with it returning in its entirety. She felt Revan's presence again, she could not tell where but she knew he was alive and himself, that was all she needed. She collected her lightsabers.

Time to kick some ass. She didn't know quite where the comment came from but it seemed appropriate.

"Impressive," Motten appraised, having extracted himself from the equipment. He pushed his arms out of his large, black cloak, it fell off his shoulders and pooled on the ground. His face was pale and eyes his eyes were blood red, a thin layer of pointy, black hair covered his head, his smirk was toxic. He wore light battle armor.

"You're more determined than I anticipated…" his snake like voice had dropped off, almost to a purr, "but that only makes me want you more."

Bastila thinned her eyes, "what kind of a demented…"

"Soon, you will know, your every action will revolve around pleasing me Bastila."

"I don't think so."

The assassin drew his weapons and took a fighting stance, the steel made a hissing sound as the blades left their sheaths. Bastila hadn't seen the weapons properly before, they looked very deadly, gold symbols decorated the blades. She activated her own weapons and the sapphire lightsabers hummed to life, she swung them around in the air a few times, re-familiarizing herself with the two saber, form seven stance. She preferred a single double-blade but was just as proficient at fighting with two.

Their eyes locked as they stood silently staring at each other for several seconds, the low hum of Bastila's lightsabers the only sound. Neither of them so much as twitched, each silently daring the other to make the first move, to open themselves up by making that first strike. Bastila's muscles tensed, her brow creased.

The force fights with me. Use it. She did, when Motten's attack suddenly came, she was ready. He jumped at her and swung his blade in an aggressive stroke, an intense duel erupted.

Motten attacked furiously, his blades were silver lightning as they cut the air at speeds almost too fast for the eye to see. He moved them in somewhat crude yet efficient strokes and in most situations, he would have overwhelmed an opponent. Bastila though was able to hold her own, her skill was born out years of practice, not just at fighting but at things such as remaining calm, anticipation and strategy. Jedi were keepers of the peace but they well knew that to do so required the ability to back up words with force. Just by being as powerful as they were, they often avoided conflict all together. Bastila was no exception.

She confidently absorbed Motten's attacks, he asked questions, his blades would try to slip past her defenses in one area and then another. He dodged, spun and attacked, ducked, parried, attacked. Bastila was ready for him at every strike. Footwork was as important as where your sabers where, she knew, her feet and sabers moved in union, both always perfectly placed to assist the other. Her lithe body was a weapon itself, her sabers were just an extension; the sting in the scorpion's tail. Her face was locked in an expression of pure determination; her mind was her most powerful weapon.

A slight scowl was forming on Motten's face. He broke off his attack.

"Your look of concentration is…" He breathed in as if inhaling pleasure. "…Intoxicating."

He attacked again, seemingly unconcerned by the rapidly emerging fact that he was not quite as good as Bastila. She was fast, too fast, her humming blue sabers met Motten's blades at every strike. At that stage, she had only been absorbing his attacks; she was yet to make a real strike herself. Motten was ginning as he moved, she had the sense that he was more admiring her than feeling confident. He was one sick man.

I've had just about enough of him.

She suddenly switched to the offensive and almost blew Motten away with just a few strikes. Despite having claimed to know Bastila's technique, he simply was not good enough to use that as an advantage. She didn't throw everything at him to start with, her attacks were somewhat cautionary but Motten had no answers, he began to frown again as he took several steps back, his own assault was forgotten, he was forced to concentrate on keeping himself alive. The look of fierce but controlled determination in her eyes and gritted teeth matched the grace and skill with which she moved.

The frown on the assassin's jaw deepened, he could find no way past her defenses and he slowly backed up the hallway. Bastila's sabers rained on him from everywhere, the glowing blue blades multiplied, growing into a field that surrounded him, pushed in on him from every angle. Motten knew that every warrior had inferiors, equals and betters; the truly masterful were those who knew what to do when they did find themselves on the loosing side. In a way he was pleased, it had been some time since his last true test and her determination only increased his desire for her.

In a risky attempt to get out of the loosing position, Motten parried two of her strikes then rolled back, one of her lightsabers missed his upper arm by mere centimeters as the duel broke. Motten had the chance to take stock of the situation, it was then that he realized he was not going to loose.

Instead of advancing on him and pressing her advantage, Bastila found that she needed to take the time to regain her breath. The week or so that she had spent unconscious and recovering from Hades had left her without true battle fitness, she knew that if she couldn't end the fight quickly, Motten would win through endurance.

"Getting tired Bastila?" He taunted and chuckled, he was breathing heavily also but he was in a much better state than his opponent.

"You cannot win Motten," she countered, "if you surrender, I will spare you."

The corner of Motten's lips snaked upward.

"Fascinating isn't it Bastila; death. There is no greater pleasure of the body than all things death. I bath in death, I was born to kill and doing so for me is… euphoric. As you stand there in only your flimsy medical gown, worn down after a few moments of battle, you know as I do that the next one of us to die will not be me but before then Bastila, I will have your body and your mind. When death finally meets you Bastila, you will be as grateful for it as I, you will die nothing but a bloodless, soulless husk and then you will be even more beautiful than you are now."

He drank in the sight of her exposed body as he spoke, Bastila was utterly repulsed, she had no reply. She would be doing the galaxy a favor by removing him from it she knew, though those thoughts would only lead her back to the darkside. No one is beyond redemption, I have to believe it. From now on I will fight and live as a Jedi. Her anger and hate died with that thought.

"Give up, Motten."

"As you said 'I don't think so'."

The assassin charged at her but Bastila was immediately prepared. She blocked both of his next strikes as she moved herself into a position where she could attack him from side on, Motten was only just able to save himself from her next two strikes but it cost him all of his momentum and he was defending desperately once again.

Their weapons moved with awesome speed, the blue lightsabers parted the air with a low hum and danced in the hands of their experienced operator. Motten struggled to keep her sabers away from him, at times she all but pushed him off balance and he fell backwards for a few moments before being able to recover his footing. She forced him up the hallway at an ever-increasing rate but somehow, Motten was able to keep her from ending the fight even though that seemed more like dumb luck than skill in several instances.

Had they fought before Hades, the battle may have been rather short and one sided. If Bastila had been able to maintain the speed and efficiency that she initially used, it would only have been a matter of time before a gap would have opened in Motten's defenses. Instead, Bastila's slowing movements gave Motten more and more of the initiative, soon he began to take the fight to her and forced Bastila onto the defensive. Then she started taking backward steps, which though like her movements were graceful and controlled, her tired limbs were unable to maintain the pace at which the battle was being fought.

Inevitably, it happened. A small hole appeared in Bastila's defense, he forced her lightsabers into a position that enabled Motten to strike past them. Her skill was such that that this gap did not enable him to bring his blades to bare, he was only able to temporarily drop one of his weapons and once again line up a blow to her jaw that although glancing, rocked her back. She fell to the ground but had the sense of mind to discard her weapons as she did, falling on them was the last thing she wanted to do.

She rolled backward as she fell and jumped to her feet again but then was only able to pull one of her weapons back to her ready to face his next strike. Motten lazily swung one of his blades, forcing her to parry and giving him an opening for his next attack, he could have killed her then had he wanted to but that was not his intention, at least at that stage. Instead, he once again punched her in the stomach, forcing her to double forward, it was then simple for him to backhand her across her face, effectively ending the fight.

Her last lightsaber clattered across the hallway again, Motten grinned as the adrenaline still flowed throughout his body, he had been having the time of his life. It was disappointing that the fight was over really, although fortunate for him, he doubted that he would have lasted much longer.

She hard ground caught her like another blow. Bastila did not get up, instead slowly began to scrape herself off the metal floor. Motten kicked her viciously in her side, she yelled in pain and rolled onto her back in a futile attempt to escape him, he took another step toward her and planted his boot on her neck. She meekly tried to push him away but was comply overpowered, after several moments of futile struggle and chocked gasps, she passed into a state of semi consciousness. Her brain once again was starved of the oxygen it needed.

She felt detached somewhat as Motten knelt beside her, she was completely exhausted and beaten, sweat covered her, she panted and gasped, sucking air into her reddened, prone form.

Motten looked over her slowly, he admired her body as he admired her spirit but he enjoying breaking both.

"You fought bravely but you should have known you would never win," he told her and gently stroked her cheek. Bastila's mind was out of touch with the galaxy, she stirred but was unable to resist.

He sheathed one of his blades and used the other the slice from the neckline of her tattered medical gown downward, he cut a deep gash in her as he sliced the last of her clothing. The intense pain penetrated her mind and she writhed weakly and cried out as he cut her, blood gushed out of the wound and ran down both sides of her body. Bastila tried to use her hands to stop the blade but quickly pulled them back as they too were cut and began to bleed.

"So beautiful…" Motten parted the gown. He tossed the sword aside, knowing he no longer needed it and enjoyed the sight before him.

Bastila was barely aware as he took a hold just under her jaw, he lifted her head toward him and turned it aside, presenting her neck. He opened his mouth and leaned down, Bastila's eyes shot open, she screamed in pain as his metallic teeth sank into her neck, piercing her skin and muscle.

She struggled as best she could, efforts that amounted only to meek shuddering which Motten ignored as he lapped up the blood flowing out of the wound on her neck. Nothing had ever tasted sweeter to the assassin, he bit in deeper and was rewarded by an even greater flow of liquid, which he hurriedly sucked into his grateful throat.

The haze that had enveloped Bastila's energy deprived mind lifted enough for her to sense her surroundings once again. Motten's grip on her neck was extremely painful but it left him a little bit vulnerable and seemed to distract him. In his enthusiasm and passion, he ignored her hand as it desperately reached out and groped around randomly in a search for some sort of weapon. Finally, her fingers wrapped around cold steal and despite the fact that the razor sharp blade dug into her, cutting more deep gashes, she soon found the handle of Motten's discarded sword. Her grip on it tightened.

With all the strength she could muster, she swung the blade around and plunged it into his chest. The blade sank into him and slipped through his body, quickly protruding from his back. Bastila didn't stop pushing until the guard of the vibrosward rested against his chest, she then fell back as Motten dropped her, she had no strength of her own. Her eyes slowly closed and her mind began to drift, blood continued to gush out of her neck and chest, pooling around her. She fell into unconsciousness.

Motten failed to comprehend what was happening to him. He realized that his own blade had impaled him but that knowledge did not explain why he felt a mind blowing, searing, burning sensation or why his strength seemed to flow out of him like his blood. He looked down at the weapon buried in his chest, then at Bastila's unconscious, bleeding body and realization began to dawn on him.

This… is what I was doing to them?!

He thought of the faces of his victims, the agony in their eyes, the feeling of agony in his own body.

This is how it feels?!

Instinctively he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the blade and began to withdraw it from his chest but the pain became so intense he was unable to bear it. He cried in agony and felt tears burning his cheeks.

What have I done!? I'm… I'm a monster!

He realized what he had made his victims feel and it sickened him, he felt disgusted by his own actions. His body was no longer able to support him and fell onto his side, landing next to the unconscious Bastila whose face was pointing at him. He weakly reached out, his strength falling away rapidly as blood pooled under him, his pale, callused hands gently rubbed her smooth cheek.

"I had no idea I was doing this to you…" he croaked.

Suddenly he saw rapid movement in the corner of his fading vision and looked up to see Revan franticly leaning over Bastila's unconscious body, he recognized the pale blue glow of force healing energies as they swept over her. Revan was desperately trying to save Bastila who was falling closer and closer to death, he could sense her life force but it was very weak.

The dieing, hooded man reached out and put his hand on Revan's arm in an attempt to get his attention, his concentration interrupted, Revan opened his eyes for a few moments and listened to what would Motten's final words.

"Bastila… mind altered… four years ago…"

Even despite the situation, Revan was rocked, he looked at the man in utter disbelief. Bastila's own words replayed in his mind; 'what greater weapon is there than to turn an enemy to your cause'. Kulhoun had done a Jedi council on Bastila.

"Is that why she fell?" he asked, shocked. Motten nodded.

"Their… true nature… always comes out… in the end… protect her…" With that, the assassin's body slumped. He looked up as the roof above him faded into oblivion. He finally realized what death actually was.