Shadows of the past
The slick silvery gleam of the Sith Interdictor Volition made its way through the eternal darkness of space. In these desolate regions where no suns burned, no planets spawned life and no meteors flared, the ship dropped out of hyperspace to make a course correction, a standard procedure on long voyages, though never for this long.
Captain Telja Vance stood on the bridge, gazing out at the star field, his uniform pressed and spotless as befitting a Sith officer. He was tall, muscular, with black hair neatly trimmed and barely visible beneath his cap, and he was ripe with impatience, which was something unknown to him. His passenger for this journey had commed the bridge when the ship had left hyperspace with the simple message: "Hold here until you receive new instructions from me."
Not that Vance would ever question a superior; he believed in the Sith, and in the simple fact that victory came from setting aside your personal desires for the greater purpose. He had followed Lord Revan to war against the Mandalorians, and against the Republic. He knew his place and would not presume to think his own ambitions more important than his duty to the Dark Lord. He had saved them from the Mandalorians; had made them strong.
When he came before us and told us how decadent and corrupt the Republic was, there was no doubt; we all followed Revan. He led us to victory, fought beside us. Unlike the squabbling senators back on Coruscant.
Most of the dark Jedi never seemed to understand that true loyalty was earned, not instilled by fear. They squabbled constantly for the key positions, not afraid of employing techniques such as assassination to advance. The military had for the most part been able to keep their hierarchal system, though senior officers had been known to put their personal agendas before their mission. At times he loathed having to bow down to officers such as Admiral Vorn Teerad; a man who clearly placed himself and his own agenda above that of the Sith and the Dark Lord.
Vance allowed himself a slight smile, though he made sure none of his crew noticed. Lord Revan had been a capable commander. Though his successor, Lord Malak, had been a brute, Vance had been a faithful soldier and continued to serve the Sith under Malak. He was secretly very pleased that Revan had outsmarted his former apprentice and returned to power.
And as for the new apprentice…
Vance never finished the thought before he heard the door to the bridge slide open and light, yet confident footsteps reverberated in the darkened command centre.
The cultivated, yet firm words were nothing like Malak's or Teerad's. "Captain Vance, I am pleased to find you at your post, even after your shift has ended."
Vance turned on his heel and snapped to attention as Darth Shivana, dark robes flowing with an almost supernatural grace, walked calmly towards him with a look of unmasked curiosity that she could not hide on her beautiful, icy features.
Vance inclined his head as Lord Revan's right hand strode past him and gazed out the viewport. "Your orders were to hold here, until further notice. I made the presumption that it extended to myself remaining at my post."
Shivana smiled slightly. It was something that usually made Vance frightened whenever a dark Jedi did so, but her smile was reassuring. She was pleased.
"How very…dedicated of you, Captain." Shivana clasped her hands behind her back, drawing her robes closer to her slender, firm, feminine form as she turned towards Vance once more. "But tell me, Captain," she paused and her smile grew a bit colder, "Were you not even tempted to disobey?"
Vance gave a sharp glance. "I assure you not," he stated as the room suddenly seemed to shrink around him. Even the crewpit had grown quiet.
Shivana flexed her arms slightly and Vance tensed while his thoughts moved towards the blaster at his side and the one concealed in his ankle holster as her robes slid to the side around her waist, revealing the silver cylinder hanging from her belt.
"It is all right, Captain." Her voice seemed to echo inside his head. "You can tell me; I will understand."
Vance gazed into the dark Jedi's eyes, the perfect blue eyes that accentuated her beauty, and found himself fighting to hold anything back. He felt compelled to tell her everything.
"Milady, with greatest respect," he said firmly, "they were unusual orders, but I have never questioned Lord Revan or anyone close to him. I serve him, and the Sith. My personal desires or feelings have no impact on that. I would die for him."
The Dark Jedi narrowed her eyes slightly, and raised her hand; Vance had seen that move often enough to know what it meant, but suddenly she paused and then lowered her hand again, as Vance felt as if he had been awakened from a trance when her gaze softened and she let her robes cover her lightsabre once more.
"I respect your dedication, Captain. Unfortunately," she said as she strode towards the nearest console and inserted a datacard into the holoprojector, "others were not so dedicated." This time no one on the bridge missed the malice in her voice, "This is what happens when you try to betray Lord Revan. This is what happened to Vorn Teerad!"
Vance and the bridge crew watched with horror as the holorecording detailed the ghastly deaths of Vorn Teerad and his traitorous crew. Vance noticed in the corner of his eye that several members of the bridge crew pull out the emergency waste bags from under their chairs and emptied their stomach content out into them. He himself had seen much, but nothing this bad. He watched Teerad plea for mercy, and find only unspeakable torment as he boiled from the inside out.
When it was over, Shivana casually and slowly took the holocard and turned to Vance, her voice again controlled and chilling. "Set course for Korriban."
Danavo, Outer Rim
What a wretched hive of scum and villainy, the man thought as he went down the promenade that began at the spaceport and stretched all the way to the centre of the Arnakko City. As he walked, the scents and sounds of the lower forms of galactic life invaded his senses. He recoiled in disgust as a female Twi'lek, holding a child in one arm pleaded him for a few credits, her torn clothing revealing burned sapphire skin beneath. The man pushed the woman to the side, not bothering to take her or her child's wellbeing into account; they were little people, who weren't worth his time. The type that always complained that life was hard.
He snorted. Lazy urchins. They don't bother trying to make something of themselves, but would rather hide in the shadows.
He drew the dark cloak tighter around his body and face, not wanting to attract any more unwelcome attention. He raised a hand to his nose as he passed an Ithorian lying still by the edge of the street. The aliens did seem to have the worst smell.
Filthy creatures…though the Twi'leks do seem passable for human, with the right instructions.
He smiled smugly as he remembered the last time a Twi'lek dancer had performed for him. Those headtails.
He would have to check if there were any available Twi'lek females on this planet, after he'd concluded his business. His wealthy parents had taught him: "business before pleasure," and it had taken him far in life.
Until recently! Suddenly his mood became dark and bitter That woman is a pathetic whelp! How dare she correct me? She will pay! They all will."
Slowly, he calmed down, reassuring himself he would have the last laugh, and a lot more as well. Wealth, women, power…everything!
He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice the figure following him, a figure that ducked into an alley as the man reached the Relvarr Cantina and went inside.
The cantina was filled with both humans and aliens, all talking loudly and all intoxicated. He could hear glass shattering at a table nearby; the oozing content spilling onto the filthy floor. He approached the bar, trying his best not to appear uncomfortable, though he felt as if he were caught in a wild animal pen. The bartender, a Zabrak with a long scar across his face, looked at him with a mixture of indifference and hostility, and pointedly asked, "Yeah, whaddya want?"
The man took up a perch on a wobbly barstool and ordered what he'd been instructed to order. "Corellian Ale. The '27 variant."
The bartender showed no interest and merely went to get the drink, which puzzled the man slightly. He was left sitting alone, glancing around at the dodgy cantina. Oozing liquids, rowdy patrons, and the scent of incense made up the scenery. Once again, contempt flared up in him for these uncivilised beings, but he was torn from his thoughts as the Zabrak bartender rather rudely slammed the glass of Corellian Ale down in front of him.
"Four credits," the alien grunted. The man reached into his pocket and handed the Zabrak the exact amount, which earned him a snort of contempt from the horned alien as he stalked down the bar to attend to other patrons.
The man glanced around. Nothing. Had he gotten the timetable wrong? He did not think so, but perhaps his counterpart had been detained? He took a swig from the glass of Ale and felt the dark liquid pour down his throat, burning slightly. Corellian Ale was far from his tastes, but he drank what he had been instructed to drink, even if it was a vile concoction. He winced at the taste of the foaming liquid; even this ale was not supposed to go to one's head this quick. He vaguely became aware of a large framed human male sitting down next to him; the type of man who could easily beat even a Trandoshan bounty hunter to a pulp.
Revan and his lapdogs will all pay! No one does this to me. No one.
The man's anger was rising, something he normally never allowed in public, but the ale was strong and it was getting to him. He looked at the glass…only half-empty and he still felt as if he were on his third. He was nodding off, even though he put every effort into not doing so, and the last thing he registered before his head tilted downwards toward the bar was the large mans voice.
"Come on, friend. Let's get you someplace where you can sleep it off." He felt himself being lifted up and dragged away. And then darkness.
When he came to, his head was spinning like a thousand Yano discs all at once, and he found himself in a poorly lit room, with slime and some sort of fungi on the walls. Liquids dripped from the few pipes he could discern in the ceiling.
"So, you're awake."
The gruff voice came from somewhere in the darkness in front of him. "Don't get up," he heard before he had even realised he was sitting in a chair. "This arrangement is more beneficial if discretion is adhered to."
He settled in, shifting around uncomfortably. This was not how he had imagined his trip.
"I will ask you questions, and I would expect you to be honest," the voice came, with only a hint of disbelief in it. "We understand that you would be willing to aid us with," there was a pause, "certain objectives, in exchange for certain accommodations towards you on this matter. Is that correct?"
He cleared his throat before he spoke, hoping that would mask the nervousness creeping up on him. "I, ah, yes, that is correct."
So much for that.
"I would be more than willing to…" he stuttered, before the voice cut him off with a tone of impatience.
"Spare me the diplomatic speech. We don't concern ourselves with such things. We have the answer we were looking for."
He nervously rubbed his hands together in front of him, but whomever the speaker was he or she did not seem to notice.
"We need an event of sufficient magnitude to attract the personal attention of the target. Do you understand? We need something that will cause him to appear personally, and not merely send a lackey."
The voice paused briefly and when it resumed there was just the hint of a threat. "We would not look kindly upon the squandering of our resources on this matter. We consider this a priority, and you had best be sure you can arrange the situation as we have described."
Even though the discomfort of the situation was quickly becoming overwhelming, the man in the chair managed to sit up straight and force confidence into his voice. "I am sure. I have as much vested in this enterprise as you do. The situation will be of the magnitude you require. He will be drawn forth."
He waited for one moment that seemed to last for an eternity as nothing was heard but leaking pipes, and the sound of insects and other critters rustling around.
Finally, the voice came again "Very well. We shall begin to make appropriate arrangements. You are not to act until you hear from us again. Is that perfectly clear?"
"Quite clear. I will await your instructions."
"Good. Hold out your right arm, please." He did so, and within a second he felt a hypo injector pressed towards his skin. "I am sure you can understand the need for discretion," the voice repeated, slightly amused. "You cannot reveal that which you do not know of. Such as this location. We will be in touch."
"Wait, where am I going to -" was the only thing he managed before the tranquilizer swept his mind into darkness.
He awoke in the cockpit of his LT500 luxury space yacht, with the familiar tunnel view of hyperspace in front of him. He had made this trip alone, and his contact had obviously programmed the ship's autopilot to take him back to his point of origin through another route than the one he had taken himself.
Discretion above all else, indeed, he mused, as he leaned back in the pilot's seat.
The trip had been productive, at least. The plans were in motion, and soon everyone would know that it was not good to cross him. Though he knew little of his contacts, he had a good idea who they worked for, and he knew how they handled matters.
Yes…soon all those who had ridiculed him and discarded him, would get theirs. And he would be returned to a proper place. One of power, where he belonged.
He allowed himself a sly smile They will all pay. Of that, you can be sure.
Korriban, Dreshdae Spaceport
Yuthura Ban was not pleased. In fact, she was furious.
Ever since her encounter with the then Jedi Revan where he'd spared her life, she had been quite content to run the Sith Academy on Korriban, and continue to ensure that her students were the finest the Sith could offer. Every student who'd studied at the Academy and survived had more than proved their worth. Yet -- and this was what Yuthura was so furious about -- the position coveted by all Sith as the ultimate prize, namely to be taken as apprentice to the Dark Lord, had been handed to a feeble Jedi woman. A fallen lightsider who had managed to insinuate herself first into Malak's, and now Revan's trust. In truth, this was all Yuthura knew of this apprentice. Word had spread quickly about Revan's return, though details of this apprentice had been unusually vague.
So, the most sacred position in the Sith, aside from the title of Dark Lord of course, was handed to a... a spoiled, two faced, Jedi harlot! Yuthura had fumed at this, and then the indignity had been deepened.
Darth Revan himself had contacted her, informing her that his apprentice would be arriving on Korriban shortly to make preparations for a convocation of the Sith Masters. Yuthura was to offer her full cooperation. She still remembered the words, booming through the mask.
"I'll cooperate," Yuthura mused contemptfully, "but that…that 'thief' will never have my respect. I worked hard to get to where I am, acted with cunning, decisiveness. What did she ever do for Lord Revan?"
Yuthura turned her gaze skyward at the sound of repulsor lifts. The shuttle that was landing was almost shaped like a hook, slightly alien in design with the boarding ramp dropping down beneath the cockpit. The ship deployed its landing gear, and settled into the former Czerka landing port at Dreshdae. Vent exhausts opened, and steam flowed out onto the duracrete paving in the bay, accompanied by the usual hissing sound.
Yuthura steeled herself as she heard the seals on the shuttle disengage. Quickly, she put on her most intimidating, yet grudgingly respectful gaze as the shuttle's ramp lowered towards the ground with a mechanical hiss.
A figure appeared at the top of the ramp, still hidden in darkness. Cloaked in shadow, it surveyed the surroundings and, finding nothing out of place, started down the ramp. Yuthura's intimidating gaze disappeared as the figure stepped into the light, striding down the ramp with long, confident steps.
She was dressed in dark robes, adorned with dark red armor plates around the chest, which was crafted with elegant patterns of ancient Sith symbols. The same armor adorned her gauntlets on the backhanded side. The robes showed her slender, fit, and feminine form, but they flowed slightly outwards from the waist and down, making it appear as if she floated just off the ground. It was obvious to Yuthura that the robes were designed for intimidation and combat, and she had no doubt that the wearer would have uncanny combat skills.
The other woman had her hood up, just barely covering her face, and as Yuthura stepped forwards to bow, she suddenly found herself at a loss for words. The strength of the Force around the newly arrived individual was overwhelming. Not even Master Uthar had been this strong.
"Revan is taking a huge risk! This woman will almost certainly try to best him soon. How can he allow her to become this strong, so quickly? It goes against every Sith tradition!"
Yuthura's mental rant was interrupted as the cloaked woman reached the bottom of the ramp. The Twi'lek Sith Master steeled herself, and with as much confidence she could muster, she spoke.
"Welcome to Dreshdae, Lord Revan has informed me of your purpose here. I am -"
"I know who you are, Yuthura Ban." The voice was clear, cultivated, and utterly chilling. "I am Darth Shivana."
She pulled back her hood, and Yuthura steeled herself. Sith Masters, those who had the same level of power that radiated from this... 'Darth Shivana,' weren't a pleasant sight. Yuthura found she was holding her breath as Shivana's face revealed itself.
To her surprise, it wasn't a hideous gray face, with sickly yellow eyes, that was revealed. It was an utterly beautiful face, by human standards, formed from marble skin, and the eyes, oh the eyes!
Yuthura had always found that humans had such remarkable retinal coloring, had even been envious of how their eyes swam through almost every colour. Shivana, Lady Shivana's eyes were a deep blue. But, as she stared into them, they were cold, like the deep blue of the depths of the ocean.
Yuthura felt as if she'd just snapped out of a trance. This woman was Bastila Shan! The Jedi, whom Revan had been desperate to find during his last visit to Korriban, before… This was the spoiled brat who'd usurped the place at Lord Revan's side? All of a sudden Yuthura felt very uncomfortable even having such thoughts. She knew enough of dark side powers to know that for someone who had learned to focus greatly, as was required during the Battle Meditation that Bastila Shan had been known for, would have no trouble diving into the minds of others.
Yuthura shook herself as Shivana paused a few meters away from her and tilted her head as her smooth voice resonated throughout the docking bay. Her mildly amused tone somehow managed to retain the coolness Yuthura was feeling all over her body.
"Shall we?"
"Yes. My apologies, Lady Shivana." Yuthura turned and hurried up to walk with respect beside the other woman, hoping to at least stay on acceptable terms. She didn't want to be the enemy of someone this powerful. "How may I be of service to Lord Revan and, and to you, my Lady?"
"Start with the discarding of these false pleasantries." The coldness in Bastila's -- Shivana's -- voice was something even Yuthura found unpleasant. And she had spent many hours in the company of the likes of Master Uthar. "You are here because you know the layout of this facility, and are familiar with each and every student and which of the Sith Masters they favor."
Pausing for a few seconds to let this sink in, she turned towards Yuthura, her icy-cold gaze boring into the Twi'lek. "I, as well as Lord Revan, require this information. So, I trust you will be cooperative?"
They walked on, in what seemed an eerie silence, at least to Yuthura. Eventually they reached a T-junction in the academy corridors. One corridor led to the VIP accommodation area, the other into the general facilities of the Sith Academy. The room that this junction formed had a vast, a highly vaulted ceiling where sound reverberated. Yuthura felt herself shrink slightly as those ice-blue eyes fell upon her once more.
"I trust that having everything in place for a convocation of the Sith Masters within a month will not be a problem?" Shivana raised her hand, making the Twi'lek flinch, and pointed firmly at her. Yuthura could only stare with terrified rigidity at her face, a mask of cold, calculated determination. "The Dark Lord believes you to be an ally, a faithful and loyal subject. I should hate to... be forced to tell him differently when he arrives."
Yuthura's heart skipped a beat. "Lord Revan is coming here?" She asked, unable to stop her lekku from twitching nervously. "Here to the Academy?"
Darth Shivana smiled. It was a smile that made Yuthura feel even colder in her presence.
"That is correct. And the Dark Lord has great confidence in your abilities. And I hope, for your sake, that you do not disappoint." She paused, just allowing the thinly veiled threat to sink in before she continued. "Neither I, nor my Master are as forgiving as that fool Malak was!"
With that, Darth Shivana turned and headed towards her quarters, apparently guided by intuition, as Yuthura had not managed to even show where said quarters were. The Twi'kek Sith Master could only stare after her, as Darth Shivana's black robes swirled around her like a cloud of darkness.
Unable to help glancing nervously behind her, Yuthura quickly hastened in the other direction, towards her own workspace. She had preparations to attend to, and little time to do so.
She hurried through the corridors, passing several students which sent glances her way, probably wondering what could cause the head of the Academy to rush along like that short of the Dark Lord himself appearing. Yuthura almost laughed at the irony: if the foolish youths only knew.
Sending the apprentice is one thing, having me dig up all information pertaining to the various Sith Masters and planning a convocation of them is quite another, Yuthura mused as her headtails twitched slightly, a sign of nervousness…a sign of weakness, a sign of indetermination. Unbecoming a Sith of my stature.
Fascinating, Bastila thought to herself as she strode down the stone corridors of the Sith Academy, her turquoise eyes examined every centimeter of material their gaze fell over. I wonder if… she mused as she stepped in close to one of the walls, put her hands against the coarse rocky surface, and immediately felt a sensation of dark side energies coursing through the place. Like a cold, clammy hand reaching out for her, trying to ensnare her, to bend her will to its own purpose. The Force itself seemed to creep in the crevices of this place, but it was tainted, impure. Flawed, she thought with contempt as her own power swelled up towards the dark side energy of the Academy. Seethed in the mindless and deluded traditions of the Sith, not worthy of Revan nor myself. We are far superior to this!
As she thought the words, her own Force aura crept around the dark Force presence. Hmm…how interesting. Bastila smiled as she directed all her considerable power towards the source of this disturbance. How long has this pathetic spirit been creeping around this corridor scaring students, hmm? She closed her eyes and let the Force guide her towards the suddenly terrified spirit as it made an attempt to retreat but found its way blocked by her own powers. Today, you meet your match, spirit!
She allowed herself a cold, merciless smile. I don't know who undid your life, but whoever it was apparently didn't have the strength or commitment to finish the job…I always finish what I start! She inhaled deeply and focused all of her raw Force strength on the spirit. Oblivion awaits you
Though there was no physical scream, she could more than feel the spirit's demise as she ripped its Force essence to shreds.
She probed around with her Force senses, but the strange dark side background noise that had permeated the Academy just moments before had subsided to a dead-stillness. With a satisfied smile, Darth Shivana, Dark Lady of the Sith, resumed her walk.
A lesson well learned, I think.
Two days later
The harsh, dusty air greeted her along with a wave of heat as she stepped from the cold stone halls of the Academy into the Valley of the Dark Lords. The searing heat and invasive dust was a fitting compliment to the overall oppressive nature of the planet Korriban. It was as if darkness and oppression was imbedded in the core of the planet, and a person walking the brief canyon that led from the Academy to the valley could feel the walls tighten around them, like a shroud of darkness.
Bastila could feel it, the power of this place, as she walked briskly down the canyon where any other person, aside from perhaps one, would gaze cautiously around the narrow passage and feel small and insignificant. She made a contemptuous sound. She did not fear the darkness; she welcomed and transcended it. Not even the Shyracks that usually were a constant nuisance to the students and teachers heading into the Valley approached her when she passed their lair. Instead, they seemed to shrink and eventually recede into the dark orifice that made up the cave entrance as she walked by, unaffected by their presence.
Self-preservation is a strong instinct, she thought as she left the flying beasts' cave behind, and made her way around the final bend and into the Valley itself.
Nothing in her life, neither old nor new, had prepared her for the sight that greeted her: the ancient monoliths that stood in silent vigil over the massive tombs of Dark Lords of times long past. The massive pillars still stood as obelisks of power, even the ones that were knocked over either through the natural course of time or other reasons. The Valley of the Dark Lords was indeed a true marvel to behold, and even she, the woman who had been taught that the Sith were a cruel and evil people, could not help but be utterly enticed by the power of this place. The power seemed to call to her, begging her to claim it, to relinquish her control. It was tempting, but she saw it as nothing than a transparent lie. She had learned that control was essential if one sought to maintain order, and she did. She and the man that she was forever bound to, by fate and the Force; the man who had been turned into a shell of his former self by a decrepit collection of frightened, senile old men.
She pursed her full lips slightly and slowly ran her tongue over them. Anger was always there when she thought of this, yet it always…
Ah there it is, she thought when she felt the anger give way to passion as her thoughts began to focus on how she had set herself, and eventually him, free. Even if she had almost lost him, it didn't matter anymore. They were together now, would be so forever because they had the strength to undo anyone who would try to get between them, or stand against them.
Bastila smiled as she remembered how he had let her strike down that fool Malak, the Usurper, and then had extended his hand to her on the ancient, Rakatan Star Forge. His words flowing through her memory like golden honey: "Come, Bastila. We have an empire to build."
We! Her smile grew wider and she could feel the passion welling up inside her. She did not try to push it down; if anyone noticed, she'd wipe the incident from their minds with the Force. Her recent experiences had shown her how she had a particular affinity in the ability to affect the minds of others… well except for Revan. Her Dark Lord. Her everything. Her… love.
The Sith were fools, and in some ways even more foolish than the Jedi. The Jedi denied feelings, but the Sith only selected feelings they thought were beneficial, and denied themselves much power in the process. She had come to understand, through Revan's guidance, that true mastery was of all of one's emotions, and not merely anger and hate. It gave both of them an advantage over the rest of the Sith. It was appropriate; the rulers were always the strongest, and she and Revan would be the strongest forever! They would sit on the Sith throne as Lord and Lady, sharing their unique power, through their unique connection, until one day, the Force would claim their physical bodies.
"Do not be so eager to traverse that void, young one."
It was not so much a call as a whisper, though it had as much effect on her as it would have had if the speaker had been sneaking up on her. She whirled around and her hand flew to the hilt clipped on her belt as she faced… nothing. She frowned and quickly gazed around while reaching out with the Force to see if she could detect from where the voice was coming.
Still nothing. No, wait, she thought as she felt a slight pull through the Force. That tomb…
The strange Force emanation came from one of the tombs in the Valley. The other tombs resonated with Force energies too, but this one was different. She had been known to be curious before, and that was not a trait that was so easily dispensed with.
I wonder what restless spirit lurks within this one, she thought. As she walked towards the young student working near the tomb's entrance, the gravel crunched beneath her boots.
She was even younger than Bastila by at least two years with a trim figure and shoulder-length blonde hair. Her presence in the Force, though, revealed more strength than was apparently obvious. Bastila made a note to keep an eye on this one.
"Something I can help you with?" the student asked.
Bastila arched an eyebrow at the other woman, whom apparently had no idea whom she was addressing. "Yes," she began in her most diplomatic voice. She pointed towards the massive stone door behind the archaeologist. "Whose tomb is this?"
The other woman regarded her warily for a moment, but then spoke with a voice forced with professionalism. "This is the tomb of Ajunta Pall: one of the first and greatest Sith Lords, who died almost 20,000 years ago. We've been keeping students out of the tombs ever since that unfortunate business about a month ago."
Bastila noticed a distinct grimace on the other woman's face as she spoke the last words. "What business?"
The student narrowed her eyes and looked up and down Bastila "Who are you, anyway?" We don't allow students into the tombs anymore, and I know the face of all the Sith Masters on Korriban. I don't recognise you." She reached around her back and produced a small blaster. "So, have I caught myself another Jedi spy? Like the one who violated this tomb?"
Bastila's arm shot forward like a Deralian viper. She grabbed the other woman by the throat and slammed her into the ground before she had a chance to even aim the blaster.
"Listen to me, and listen carefully." Bastila's voice was a low hiss as she moved her face to just a few centimetres from the other woman's. "Do not ever call me a Jedi. If you do, then your life will be worth less than the dirt beneath my soles. Understand?"
The archaeologist wasn't able to make a verbal response due to the hand wrapped firmly around her throat, but she did manage to nod desperately. Even so, Bastila let her grip remain on her a few seconds longer before she let go. The other woman inhaled deeply as her airways were cleared once more.
"I…I understand," she gasped as Bastila stood towering over her.
"Darth…Shivana," Bastila finished for her.
The archaeologist's eyes showed recognition at the mention of her name, and Bastila shot her one last contemptuous glare before stepping back.
"Now, tell me what happened here a month ago" she stated plainly.
The student slowly got to her feet: "Some Jedi came running through here and stole one of the most important artefacts of Sith history. Not only that, but the same Jedi eliminated Master Uthar and helped Master Ban rise to become the head of the academy."
Bastila smiled discreetly. This was interesting. Apparently not everyone was happy with Yuthura Ban. "A Jedi, you say?"
"Pfft. Yes, a Jedi managed to infiltrate the Academy and do all sorts of havoc before leaving again. Killed some of our best students."
"Indeed?" Bastila spoke softly so as not to let the other woman realise that none of this was new information to her.
"Yes, but that's not the worst of it. This Jedi was in all the tombs. Who knows what he could have learned from that? As I mentioned before, we do know he took some artefacts." The contempt was clearly evident in her voice.
"Such as?" Bastila probed.
"The sword of Ajunta Pall, itself. We had spent years trying to find it, and then some Jedi wanders in here and just happens upon it."
Such anger in you when you say that. How interesting.
"It belongs to the Sith!" She sighed heavily and shook her head. "But I suppose at least now we won't have to worry about the Tuk'ata anymore. That Jedi cleaned them all out."
"Well, then I should not have any trouble exploring the tomb," Bastila said as she started past the archaeologist.
"I knew Revan had a vicious Kath hound as a pet, I just never suspected it was a woman," the student muttered, but Bastila only paused for a heartbeat before she strode quickly into the tomb.
The cold, clammy environment struck her like a wave. The contrast to the hot, dry atmosphere of Korriban itself was astounding. It was almost as if the makers of the tomb had intended to keep its environment self-contained and isolated from the rest of the planet. Bastila could see the moss on the ancient stone walls as she walked down a hallway. Insects moved in the recesses, and the slow decay of life filled this place. It poured through the Force filling every edifice, every crevice of the ancient tomb. But there was something else as well: a sense of despair and determination that did not seem to fit with the tomb, but resonated powerfully regardless.
I know this feeling…I have felt it before, but where? Bastila wondered. It is familiar, yet alien. Like a shroud.
She pressed forward, and the darkness with all its oppressive nature weighed down upon her, but the call to go on was getting stronger. Something was waiting for her ahead. She came to an ancient stone bridge and looked into the seemingly endless abyss below, the shyracks howling above her.
I wonder how deep this chasm is? Would one fall for hours? she mused as she slowly made her way across the narrow bridge, and that's when she noticed the markings. Plasma burns. Someone was here recently. And they used explosives. She bent down and took a handful of the gravel lying on the bridge in her hand. A plasma grenade should have been able to take a sizable part of this bridge with it as well, yet all that shows on the bridge itself are the markings…most curious. She looked around in the darkness, but saw no further scorching anywhere else, just the one location. The bridge still seems sturdy.
With that, she stood and continued across the abyss to the far side of the bridge where two ancient monoliths stood silent vigil over a stone gate, which was gaping open. The Force resonated powerfully beyond the passageway calling to her, drawing her closer, and she found herself moving forward almost mindlessly. There was no choice to turn back in her mind as she passed the monoliths and into the downward leading passageway beyond. The passageway led to a massive stone door that silently slid aside as she approached, and just as silently slid closed behind her once she stepped through.
The past echoed here in this large room, all built around a central altar that contained an open sarcophagus. A shaft directly above directed the harsh light of Korriban's sun onto the altar completing the display. Around the edge of the room were four shafts, all spewing heated steams from the core of the planet far below.
Bastila slowly moved towards the altar, casting quick glances around to detect possible threats or traps. As she stepped closer, she noticed the ancient markings on the sarcophagus itself. Knowledge of times long gone called out to her when she raised her hand to touch the surface of the millennia-old relic.
"Ah, so you are here at last."
She spun around, gripping her lightsabre and getting into a battle-stance all in two seconds after hearing the voice. The blades bathed the tomb in their crimson light, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight that greeted her.
"I was beginning to wonder if you would appear."
The speaker was, or had at some point been human, that much she could tell. A man of approximately forty standard years, dressed in robes similar to what the Jedi and the Sith wore, with the difference that he wore a hood pulled over his head obscuring most of his features. Or so it would have if the speaker were alive. The Force glowed around him; the luminescence of his spirit-form rivalling that of her crimson blades.
"Who are you? Speak quickly!" she snapped.
The figure tilted its head slightly, as if truly seeing her for the first time. "Curious. You carry him deeply within your soul, yet you are so entirely different from him. I wonder what would have happened had it been you, not he, who came here before." The figure paused, as if gathering his thoughts. "You must be the one who was calling to him, the one he would gladly wade through endless waves of opponents to get to. He found you, obviously, but..."
"Save your riddles, spirit!" Bastila spat, her ire rising. She did not like to be caught off guard, and the insult was made even greater by the fact that some millennia old ghost had managed that feat.
The spirit ignored her. "So, you managed to awaken what you always said was there, did you? Has it made you content? Do you feel powerful in knowing that he would forsake his friends, his oath, even his very beliefs for you?"
"You know nothing of what you speak," Bastila hissed, tightening her grip on the hilt of her lightsabre.
"Don't I, now?" the spirit chuckled briefly, but then sadness crept into his voice. "If you believe yourself to be the first to walk the path of passions, then you would be mistaken." The form took a step towards her. "For that is what drives you, is it not? What flows like dark water in your mind?"
Bastila relaxed her stance slightly. "How would you know what drives me?" Especially as I have gone to great lengths to hide it.
"In my…state you tend to pick up clues that you would not have before. But perhaps it would be best to introduce myself. I am Ajunta Pall, one of the first Dark Lords of the Sith. I last walked the surface of this planet nearly 20,000 standard years ago."
Despite herself, Bastila could not hold back her curiosity. "Then why are you here now? You became one with the Force long ago."
The spectre made a noise that could only have been the equivalent of a snort. "Young one, you obviously understand little of the dark side. For a Dark Lord such as me, death offers no relief. No, I lingered here throughout the ages, wallowing in my misery, reliving the tragedies of my life until one day a Jedi managed to breach this tomb's defences."
Bastila narrowed her eyes at that last comment, anger rising in her mind as the spectre continued its tale.
"But that is not what you wish to hear, is it young…" he paused, pondering his words, "human. No, the question you wish answered is one that goes much deeper than that. One that goes to the very core of your being, so to speak."
"How do you know that?" Bastila almost shouted, her hands trembling; she did not like being read in this fashion.
But the spectre merely smiled at her. "I know more than you would realise. I walked the same path millennia ago, myself. And it is because of that, I was drawn to you, why I needed for you to come here." As he spoke, the spectre's tone softened and he moved a few paces towards her. "Long have I waited for a chance to tell this tale: the tale of why the Sith evolved into the beings they are now, filled with anger and hate, claiming those emotions as being the true path to power." The spirit's shoulders appeared to slump slightly, and Bastila finally deactivated her blade.
"Do not waste my time with fables, spirit!" she growled and started towards the door. She didn't get two steps towards it before it shut in her path. Angry, she spun around and looked at the spectre, who appeared as though he did not notice her as he moved through the central pillar of light and stopped near an old statue near the far end of the tomb. "Twist the right arm out and sideways, young one; my present state does not allow me to do so myself."
On her guard, Bastila stepped towards the ancient statue; the markings of time clearly visible on the ancient stones. Reaching up, she grabbed the statue's right arm and twisted it out and sideways, as the spectre had instructed. As she pulled downward she heard a distinctive clicking noise, and then a low rumble that caused her to jump back in surprise as the platform the statue stood on lowered itself into the floor of the tomb, revealing a hatch beyond. The hatch popped open when the statue had fully recessed into the floor.
Bastila looked over at the spectre of Ajunta Pall, who simply nodded to her.
Cautiously, she reached into the hidden compartment where the air was completely stale like a vacuum, or a storage vault. It was pitch dark in there, but she felt her way around until her hands touched something soft but rugged. She looked over at Ajunta's spectre once more, but his back was turned. Taking a deep breath, she closed her hand around the contents of the vault and pulled it out.
"Those robes belonged to another of the First Ones," the spectre spoke solemnly. "She was much like you, young one, filled with fire and passion, willing to give her utmost for those she cared about." He paused, and Bastila could sense a slight trembling in his voice when he continued. "Even to those who did not deserve it."
Bastila went to the centre of the room where the light poured down the shaft and cautiously unfolded the ancient garments.
"I remember when we first arrived here on this planet. Having chosen to flee known space, to escape the Jedi. Later I realised it was to escape the guilt." The spectre moved towards the passageway and gazed into the darkness. Bastila could feel sorrow rushing from him. "Her name was Nira and we always had a connection, she and I. From when we first met in training we were drawn to each other. It grew more intense as the years passed until we eventually began seeing each other in secret."
He turned towards her slowly. "We grew tired of it, so when one of our fellow Jedi offered us the chance to study the secrets of the dark side and free ourselves from the chains of the Order, we both took it. We studied in secret, until one day we were discovered and were forced to flee. We did not simply leave, of course, we fought bitterly, against both our fellow students and our Masters, unleashing all the terrible secrets that we had mastered." The spectre looked at Bastila solemnly. "But it was not enough. Half were eventually slain and the rest of us fled across the galaxy until finally we came to this place." He gestured at the space around them. "And here we made our fortress. Here we set out to master the powers we had begun back in hiding, to one day return and vanquish those who had scorned us, the Masters, and to make the young Jedi and the Republic recognise our power and our right to rule."
Ajunta tilted his head as he observed his visitor standing there running her hands over the fabric of the robes of his beloved, his Nira. "We had a secret motive, Nira and I." Bastila looked up at the sound of the name. "The Jedi had told us we were wrong to feel the way we did for each other. Oh, how we wanted to prove them wrong."
I feel the bitterness still, even after all this time. Ajunta thought to himself.
"Jarren, the one who had led us before we fled the Jedi, was killed during our escape; the rest looked to me for direction." Ajunta rubbed his hands together; these memories were painful. "So we came here, and used our might to subjugate the Sith natives of Korriban, taking the title of Lords of the Sith. I was made the Dark Lord."
I hope she hears and understands what comes next. "I wanted to share the title…the throne. I wanted Nira to sit on it beside me so that we could be together as we wished to be."
It worked as he intended; his young visitor suddenly forgot all about the robes and just looked at him, the words coming ever so slowly. "Did…did you succeed?" she cautiously asked, her tone betraying her underlying fear for what the answer might be.
He took a moment before answering, seeing his visitor's body tense up significantly during the silence. "Yes, the others grudgingly allowed it." He could almost feel her relief physically as he spoke the words.
"We had such grand plans for the Galaxy." Ajunta made an effort not to let too much sarcasm slip into his voice, since his visitor probably take offence. "We were so certain of the future, of how things would play out, and we were wrong."
He stared intensely at his young visitor, and noticed the way she started to rub her hands together, not being able to keep her feet still as he continued. "This planet, it has secrets even we were not aware of, things that corrupt and twist perceptions." His voice was trembling now as the bitter memories washed over him. "When we found it, we were certain that we had found the key to our victory. Something that would grant us the means to take revenge on the Jedi." He paused. "But plans are fragile things…easily unmade, more often by their own creators than any others."
Yes…plans are indeed fragile. And power is a hollow motive when you lose everything you care for whilst acquiring it. What proud fools we were.
"My motivation was knowledge; what we unearthed here brought about new questions, questions that I devoted myself to wholly and completely." I built my own prison, Ajunta thought sadly. "I kept my findings secret, even from Nira. I was determined that I would be the one to unlock the power that lay out there…waiting."
His visitor finally broke the silence after a brief pause. "Did you…did you find what you were looking for?" Her words were eager and curious. "What was it?"
"Yes…I found it." Ajunta slowly began, casually ignoring the second part of the question "I remember the day I did. How proud I was when I had summoned all my brethren and my queen to the gathering where I would announce how I would lead us all to victory against the Jedi." He moved over to the podium that still held his sarcophagus and gently touched the surface as he continued. "But things did not go as I had planned. I was not greeted with excitement or support. I was met by drawn weapons. The others…they had grown tired of my solitude, my unilateral rule. And so they had decided to remove me."
"And you have been in this tomb ever since?" Bastila asked.
"No" Ajunta replied and gave a dry laugh. "No, I did what any Sith Lord would do: I killed those who would stand against me, though not without suffering severe wounds." The pained look returned to his face. "I kept on fighting until the blades of my sword were entirely covered in crimson, and then Nira stepped from the ranks and raised her blade against mine."
Bastila was amazed. This…ghost was actually trembling as he was saying these words. Remarkable. Or he was a weak fool.
"I could not win that fight. Two of the others joined the battle and my mind was awash with thoughts. Fighting Nira was not like any fight I had ever fought before. I was forced on the defensive, and soon enough one of the opposing blades found its mark."
So you were weak, Bastila mused to herself. Still, to remain here all these millennia leaves no question that in terms of Force abilities, this spectre had indeed been a powerful Sith…when he was alive.
"I still don't know if things could have been different, but there I was: wounded, helpless on the ground when I looked into her eyes just as Damral, one of the other Sith was about to deliver the killing blow. In that moment; it was as if we both forgot everything that had happened since arriving here. Like a great veil had been lifted from our eyes and we could suddenly see again. We suddenly remembered. And that was when…she threw herself in front of Damral's blade."
"She gave her life for me, and when I looked into her eyes those final seconds before they went lifeless my rage knew no boundaries. It gave me the strength to rise and deal with the remaining traitors. The battle left the walls of the room crimson with their blood."
"And in the end, all my search for power and vengeance earned me was the loss of what had really mattered to me. So despite her schemes, I laid her to rest here in my mausoleum, hoping that when the time did come for me to have the mantle of Dark Lord taken from me, I would be able to rest with her at last."
Bastila slowly returned to examining the bundle that had contained the robes as Ajunta went on.
"But regret is a powerful emotion, and so is loss." He shook his head and then turned to face Bastila directly. "What I would pass on to you, young one, is this: guard your feelings, treasure them. Embrace what you truly feel in your heart. Do not let power or the lust for power consume you, lest you end your days as I. And it is my hope that by giving you that--" he gestured towards the robes in Bastila's hands, "you will keep this in mind as you face your future. Remember the past, lest you repeat it."
He gestured and the door to the chamber opened wide with a grating sound. "You may leave whenever you like, young one. Mind my words."
Bastila quickly gathered the robes up and made for the door; this place had become very uncomfortable for her in the past few minutes. She didn't run, but walked swiftly and silently to the exit from the tomb. She did not look back as she moved into the setting sunlight of Korriban.
Ajunta Pall lingered in the darkness for a time until he heard the voice: "Do you think she will heed your words, Ajunta?" The voice was soft, yet carried the wisdom and experience of millennia.
"I do not know, Nira my love. The future is a shifting thing, and I sense this one has many hard choices to make."
"If it helps her and the one she cares for to avoid sharing our fate, then it will have been worth the effort. Life was cruel to us, my darling Ajunta."
"I had to make the effort, Nira. The one she cares for is the one who released me from my self-imposed prison. The one who made it possible to return to the light and become one with the Force, and to be with you once more."
"I know, my dear, and it is a commendable effort. But you have done all you can now…the rest is up to them."
Yes, indeed. Make the right choices, and never forget what you feel for him, young Bastila, Ajunta Pall thought as his spirit faded back into the currents of the Force…