Disclaimer: Not mine. 'Nuff said.
A/N: Heyy I'm back. Not that I was actually gone for that long... anyway, here's the next chapter. We're boarding the Star Forge! Aaaahhh! Anyways, happy reading!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
We left the planet at full speed, shooting through the atmosphere until we could see the Star Forge again. A small group of fighters hailed us, Jedi who were with Vandar and had been sent to help us. We fell into the formation and headed for the space station.
We docked with hardly any difficulties. We were shot at a few times, but our shields were still relatively undamaged when we landed. Carth, Mission, Dustil and I disembarked, stepping forward to meet the Jedi. I had my sword in hand, while Dustil had his lightsaber, Carth had his pistols, and Mission was armed with some kind of assault rifle. I stepped up to the woman who seemed to be the leader.
"We may not have as many troops to deal with as you might expect. Malak will be throwing everything he has at his enemies, but we're not the first, and he's much more interested in Revan. We'll certainly have a much easier time of it than she will.
"You lot should stay here and hold off the troops. The four of us will go in and take care of the problem. I'm hoping we'll come out alive."
"Good luck to you," the Jedi replied simply before turning to engage the group of Dark Jedi who had just emerged from the Forge.
"Come on," I ordered the rest of the group. We started forward into the bowels of the space station, and I confidently took the left fork.
"How do you know where we're going?" Mission asked curiously.
"All the forks end up at the same place," I told her. "It's just a matter of finding the right door when we get there."
After another couple minutes, we started finding droid parts every few feet.
"This is what's left of Malak's army," I informed my friends. "Well, one of his armies. His droid army. He thought the droids could deal with the Jedi… what he didn't know was that it was Revan."
"Does he find out?" It was Dustil who asked.
"Oh, yes. And then he sends out all his available troops. Not even they can stop her, but they can certainly slow her down. And if the game's on hard (in the game, of course, not here) it might take a few tries to get through it."
"But we don't have a few tries," Dustil pointed out.
"Nope. Nor does she." This was when I caught a glimpse of Carth's face. He was clearly worrying again, and it was distracting him. "Carth!" I snapped my fingers in front of his face. He flinched and looked at me. "Snap out of it! She'll be fine, you don't have to worry."
"What if—"
"Don't even go there, flyboy. Just don't. It doesn't do anyone any good."
Soon, the droid parts stopped and corpses littered the walkway: Sith soldiers, troopers, advanced troopers (the ones with red armor), apprentices, Dark Jedi, you name it. Mostly I was able to ignore them, though I must admit, the occasional sight of random severed limbs was more than a little disturbing. Occasionally there was a straggler, but we made quick work of them. I tried to view it as an act of mercy, because if they were alive, they usually weren't well. Revan had simply left them for dead. Still, I shivered involuntarily as I watched, with morbid curiosity, the life leaving the bodies of the Sith.
The maze of forks and walkways which all led to the same place seemed to be never-ending, but finally, we found ourselves at a door that seemed to have been heavily guarded by Dark Jedi.
"She's there," said Dustil. "Bastila. I wasn't around her much, but I know her presence, and she's there. This is it."
I nodded, my eyebrows creased in concern. "Mission, Carth, stay back. Give us cover fire if you think it can help, but don't try to get involved. This is our fight."
That said, I activated the door control and the entrance sprang open. A figure sat cross-legged in front of the holographic map of the area surrounding the Star Forge. She was glowing with blue light, and seemed to be deep in concentration.
As I watched, she tensed visibly before standing and turning towards us. Her face was paler than I'd ever seen it, and her eyes had lost their warmth. Coldness and darkness radiated from her.
"Bastila," I acknowledged her with a nod.
"Athena," she replied coldly. "I should have known you'd meddle where you didn't belong. I know you intend to sway Revan from the Dark Side, but you will have to pass me first. And here, the power of the Star Forge renews my energy, increases the power of the Dark Side in me! You have no chance of victory!" That said, she drew out her double-bladed lightsaber and twirled it menacingly.
In response, I raised my sword, and Dustil activated his lightsaber. We stood shoulder to shoulder facing the Dark Jedi.
With something of a battle cry, Bastila attacked, and with that, we were sent into the fight of our lives. She attacked with such ferocity that we hardly had a chance to defend ourselves, let alone get in a few attacks of our own. A couple minutes in, she put Mission and Carth in stasis with a wave of her hand, and Dustil and I were alone. Then, in a lull in the fighting, she pulled an unexpected and dirty trick. Instead of attacking us again, she flipped over my head, landing behind me, and struck Mission with her lightsaber. The world seemed to slow down as I screamed and charged at her, engaging her with such fury that she was distracted, giving Dustil time to get to Mission's side to assess the damage and try to heal her.
Fighting a double-bladed weapon alone is not as easy as it sometimes looks. It's almost as bad as fighting two enemies at once, and you have to be at least twice as fast as your opponent, something which I decidedly wasn't. Fortunately, Dustil rejoined the fight relatively quickly, so I wasn't sliced to ribbons.
"She's alive," he panted between blows, "but she's in bad shape. We need to get her back to the ship as soon as we can so Jolee can help her."
"You're still talking as though you're going to survive this encounter," Bastila remarked as though commenting on the weather, but with such a snide tone of voice that I had to check to make sure it was really her speaking. She had changed so much since the Leviathan, it was almost impossible to recognize her as the preachy Jedi who was assigned to help Revan.
"I don't want to kill you, Bastila," I told her.
"Unfortunately, I do not share your sentiment. I shall do my duty to my master, part of which is protecting her from external threats." The meaning in these last words was all too clear.
"That, however, means you think we are a threat, which means there's hope," I pointed out. She kept a façade of calm, practicing her Jedi emotional neutrality (subconsciously, I was sure: she wouldn't be caught dead using Jedi techniques now). "Bastila," I tried again, "surely you realize what Malak did to you? He fabricated circumstances so that you would fall to the Dark Side! The Dark Side was never truly yours to begin with. It was just a creation of Malak's in your mind, something you thought you were embracing willingly, but he was actually forcing it on you. I'm not making any sense, am I?" I asked as she paused the battle to give me a confused look.
"None whatsoever," she confirmed, and we continued to duel. After a bit more fighting, Dustil managed to cut off one end of her saber, so she was stuck with a single blade, fighting two of us. At this point, it was only a matter of time before we overcame her.
But she wasn't entirely helpless. Moments after Dustil's success, I felt myself flying backwards, still somehow managing to writhe in agony as I was struck by Force Lightning. And let me tell you, it was not comfortable. I was in more pain than I had ever been before, except perhaps for the instant before I was transported from my world into KotOR. And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was gone. I lay on the floor for several seconds, trying to regain my breath. When I could breathe, I pushed myself up, lifting my sword, and charged with a rage I didn't know I possessed. Thoughts flooded my mind: thoughts of everything Bastila had done wrong warring with everything she had done right. I could almost literally hear the angel on one shoulder telling me to try to save her, that she deserved a second chance and the devil on the other shoulder, telling me that she deserved to die, that she had done so much evil and she could only get worse, that the galaxy would be better off without her. And each one was screaming.
Somehow amidst my rage, I managed to knock her over (or maybe Dustil did, I'll never be sure) and her lightsaber went skidding across the floor of the Forge. I placed my sword at her throat.
"Make one move and you're a dead woman," I growled. "And don't think I won't do it just because I'm usually a nice person. You've done plenty to deserve it."
"You really would," she mused. "It's a shame you're not Force-sensitive, you'd make an excellent Dark Jedi." I applied pressure to the sword at her throat, and she coughed. "I speak only the truth," she coughed out, "it is you who is too afraid to accept it." As she spoke, however, I saw her hand inching outwards, reaching towards the lightsaber, which was starting to wiggle…
"No!" I screamed, and through some figment of my subconscious mind, some remnant of the devil on my shoulder, flames leaped down the blade of my sword, blazing white-hot as they came into contact with Bastila's form. She shrieked, and I flinched, but the fire remained. The part of me that was screaming in protest was overcome by the part that wanted her to suffer for all she had done, the part that was taking a morbid pleasure in hearing her screams. And then, just as suddenly, she fell silent. The flames died. And I fell to my knees on the floor of the Star Forge, tears pouring down my face, sobs racking my body. "What have I done?" My sword fell uselessly to the ground beside me, but there was no longer an enemy to defend myself from. Or to murder in cold blood, my conscience added.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. Dustil. "Athena," he whispered. "I know this is difficult. But we have to finish the mission. And speaking of Mission…" He looked over my shoulder as I peered up at him through tear-filled eyes. I still couldn't bring myself to look at Bastila. "She's alive, but she's in a bad way. Father's taking her back to the Hawk. It's just the two of us."
I continued to sob uncontrollably. "Athena," he said sharply. "Get a hold of yourself. This is war. In war, certain distasteful acts—"
I was suddenly angry. "Oh, save the speech, I've heard it before. Certain distasteful acts cannot be avoided, blah, blah, blah. Well, guess what? That could have been avoided! That wasn't war, that was murder! And a part of me enjoyed it! It makes me sick to think of it."
"Look," Dustil changed tactics desperately, "we can deal with the moral repercussions later, but we have to get to Caeli! If we don't, thousands of people will die!"
That cleared my head, if nothing else. I blinked back the tears, wiped my eyes on my sleeve, and nodded. "We have to get her back to Carth," I told him. "He's really the only hope of turning her back. It was his words that started this whole fiasco, maybe his words can fix the problem, or at least begin to fix it."
"All right. It's all we've got, and we'd better hope it works." He paused. "You ready?"
I took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly. "As I'll ever be. Let's go."
As we made for the door, however, I stopped and turned one last time. It had to be done. I forced my eyes to the ground where Bastila lay. I emitted a gasp of horror and my knees almost gave out again. Her flesh was blackened and burned, charred by the fire, her mouth open in a scream doomed to be forever silent. I could feel the prickling behind my eyes as tears returned. I had done this.
Even as I prepared myself to leave her in my past, a glint of silver caught my eyes. Much as her corpse repelled me, I was inexplicably drawn to the gleam. As I saw what it was, I almost laughed out loud. Much as Bastila had preached that a Jedi did not need material possessions, a necklace was clasped around her neck, a silver crescent moon. She had hid it well: had my fire not burned away the neck of her robes, I would never have seen it. I picked it up, shivering as my hand touched her charred flesh, and flipped it over. The inscription brought fresh tears to my eyes.
For my dearest Bastila
Love always, Father
Her father. The only person she had ever truly allowed herself to love. And here before my eyes was proof that she had cherished that love to the bitter end. She could never have been wholly evil with that love burning within her.
I clenched the necklace in my hand, until, after a moment's hesitation, clasping it around my own neck; not as a trophy, but as a reminder. A reminder that everyone, no matter how dark, has hope for redemption. With that, I turned my back on Bastila Shan and strode from the room.
Dustil followed me hurriedly, apparently surprised by my sudden departure.
"What was that about?" he wondered aloud.
"Penance," I replied shortly.
"But—"
I whirled on him. "I have to do this, Dustil. You—you wouldn't understand."
He wisely chose to remain silent as we continued into a room full of destroyed droids: the remains of the spider-like Forge droids.
"She's been here," I whispered. "Just through the door at the end—" I indicated it by pointing, "—is the elevator to the factory. That's where Malak is. Was," I corrected myself as the aforementioned door sprang open and a robed figure stepped out. Cold eyes met mine. "Dustil," I said quietly, not breaking eye contact, "go get your father, please. I need to speak with the newly reinstated Dark Lord."
A/N: Bit of a cliffie for you there. Sorry I killed off Bastila, but it had to be done. By this time, the story was writing itself, and killing her off was the only viable option. Hope you enjoyed! I'll have the next chapter up by Friday at the latest. Review if you've got a second! They make my world go round! Love you all! Have a great day! I'm using too many exclamation points! Bye!
-Athena
