Kyle Katarn: The Rise & Fall
Book 1: Rise of a Hero
Chapter 2: New Beginnings
Disclaimer: Said it before, but I'll say it again. Don't own any characters or other Star Wars stuff.
Author's Note: With Kyle rejecting the Empire and going with the Rebels, things seem to be changing for him. But what's with the handcuffs? Let's find out!
Jan shrugged at Kyle's look of betrayal. "You're still an Imperial, Katarn. Until we're sure we can trust you, precautions must be taken."
One of the security men spoke to Jan. "Mon Mothma wants to see you and the prisoner right away." The larger of the two guards reached for Kyle's left arm.
Twisting, Kyle moved out of the man's grasp and stepped back. "Hey! Hands off!"
An instant later, he was staring at the business end of the guard's blasters. "Don't move!" called one.
Kyle considered his options. Even with the binders, he might be able to fight his way out of this. But he couldn't beat a blaster bolt. "Okay," he said, forcing himself to relax, "I surrender."
The bigger guard darted forward, placing the snout of his blaster against Kyle's head. "Move and you die."
"I said I surrender."
"Shut up." He called to the other guard, he said, "Go ahead, I've got him."
Removing the binders, the second guard roughly jerked Kyle's hands behind his back, snapping the binders back in place. "Now move."
Watching the altercation, Jan found herself both surprised and impressed by Kyle. Clearly, the young man did not go down easy. But he knew when the odds were against him. With the guards following, she exited the hangar.
As they walked through the corridors of the frigate, Kyle's mind was awhirl. He had trusted this Rebel, and now…
"I said move!"
A rough push in the back; Kyle felt himself stumble. He tried to recover, but without his hands to help, he crashed to the deck, face mashing into the solid surface. He tasted blood.
"Whoops," said a guard, "looks like the Imperial fell down. Better help him up." Hands grabbed him, pulling Kyle roughly to his feet.
"Now, keep a hold of him," said the bigger guard, "we don't want him to fall again, do we?"
"Okay," Jan said, turning round to face them, "that's enough."
The guards stared back with expressions of innocence. Kyle stood between them, his feet wobbly. Twin streams of blood ran from his nose. "It's his own fault, Miss Ors," one said.
"Don't give me that," she said accusingly, "I wasn't born yesterday."
She pointed at Kyle. "He 'falls' again, and both of you will answer to Mon Mothma."
Eyes dropping, the guards gave her nearly imperceptible nods. They continued on, soon arriving before a set of double doors. A sign on the door read, "Briefing Room."
Stepping forward, Jan keyed the door call.
"Enter."
The doors parted, and they walked in.
The room they walked into was large, with a number of computer displays. One on end, a large table with an overhead holoprojector sat. And standing at the table was Mon Mothma. As they approached, Kyle caught sight of her. She was not a tall woman, standing maybe 5'8' or so, but the flowing white robes she wore seemed to add to her height. She carried herself with a regal air, seeming to radiate a kind of energy. In her face, he could see confidence, compassion and determination. As they approached the table, Mon Mothma caught sight of Kyle.
The smile on her face disappeared and her gaze grew more intense.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice firm.
The pressure on Kyle's arms eased, then disappeared. Without the guards supporting him, Kyle lost his balance and was about to fall when Jan stepped up next to him, one hand encircling his right arm, the other pressing against his chest. Despite the pain and dizziness he felt, Kyle noticed how soft and warm her touch was. She held him firmly, but it felt… good.
"I asked what happened?" Mon Mothma pressed.
The guards shuffled their feet, eyes studying the floor. After a long moment, one spoke. "Um… he fell."
"I see," Mon Mothma, stepping forward until she was in front of Kyle. She examined his injury, then turned her steel gaze back on the guards.
"I will discuss this with you both later. Dismissed."
Without another word, the guards turned, exiting the room as quickly as they could.
When the doors closed, Mon Mothma spoke again. "Bring him over here, Jan," she said, indicating the table. Two chairs were arranged on one side. With Jan guiding him, Kyle stepped over to one and lowered himself into it.
Stepping over to the table herself, Mon Mothma pressed a control recessed into its surface.
"Medical bay, Berth here."
"Doctor, please come to my briefing room."
"On my way."
"That really isn't necessary," this from Kyle.
"I will be the judge of that," Mon Mothma replied, eyes focusing on him. "Besides, you are hardly presentable at the moment."
Considering how she had treated the guard, Kyle decided the last thing he needed to do was antagonize this woman. So he wisely shut up.
"Now, Jan, perhaps you can explain what an Imperial is doing on my ship."
Just then, the door chime sounded. Hitting another control, Mon Mothma opened them.
A middle-aged man with a bald pate stepped in, carrying a small case with a prominent red cross emblazoned on it surface.
"Ah, Doctor, thank you for coming so quickly."
Bowing slightly, the man stepped forward. "Where's the patient?"
Mon Mothma indicated Kyle. "Please see what you can do for him."
Stepping over to him, the Doctor examined Kyle's nose. He touched it gently. "Did that hurt?"
Kyle shook his head.
"Well, the good news is your nose isn't broken. What happened to you?"
Kyle waited a long moment before answering. "I fell."
The doctor gave him a quizzical look as he retrieved a swab and a bottle containing clear liquid. "Try to hold still. This might sting a little."
It stung a lot. The liquid burned briefly as it touched his skin. Kyle screwed his eyes shut, willing himself not to react to the pain.
"Just a moment more," the doctor said. He swabbed the area once more, removing the dried blood.
"There, all done."
He looked down at Kyle. When the young man didn't say anything, the doctor shrugged and turned away, repacking his medical kit.
"Anything else I can do?"
"No Doctor," Mon Mothma said, smiling at him. "Thank you again."
The doctor returned her smile and moved towards the doors.
"Hey. Thanks."
The doctor turned around to face the group again. He realized that it had been the young man who had spoken.
"You're welcome."
When the doctor had left, Mon Mothma returned her attention to Kyle. "Now, that that's taken care of, perhaps we should begin again. I am Mon Mothma, and you are…"
Responding almost automatically, Kyle pushed his chair back and stood, coming to attention.
"First Lieutenant Kyle Katarn, serial number nine-eight-twelve-lima-epsilon-rho."
"Very well, Lieutenant," Mon Mothma said, "you may sit down." Kyle complied.
"Why is he here, Jan?"
Taking a breath, Jan began with recounting her and Kyle's first meeting on the asteroid mission. She then went on to her encounter with Kyle on the Queen of Empire and his learning of the truth regarding the Imperial attack on Sulon and the death of his father.
"I see," Mon Mothma said.
"Finally," Jan concluded, "Kyle has expressed an interest in joining the Rebellion."
Hearing that, Kyle looked up at Jan, frowning.
Catching the look, Mon Mothma said. "Oh? Is what Jan says true, Lieutenant?"
"Not exactly," Kyle responded.
Now it was Jan's turn to look at Kyle.
"Then what exactly are your intentions, Lieutenant?"
Kyle was about to say revenge, but paused. He considered her question.
What are my intentions?
"Well, Lieutenant?" Mon Mothma prompted.
"I… I'm not exactly sure, " Kyle stammered.
Jan and Mon Mothma exchanged looks, the older woman seeing in the younger woman's face the same surprise at Kyle's response.
"Then," the Rebel leader said, "perhaps you could explain exactly what it is that has brought you here?"
Kyle opened his mouth to speak again, closed it, then opened it again."
"That's not exactly easy to answer," he said. "I…"
Sensing that there was more to the young Imperial than met the eye, the Rebel leader decided to give him an opportunity.
"Then explain it to me, Lieutenant," Mon Mothma said, "I have the time."
Sensing that she genuinely wanted to hear his story, Kyle felt a bit of the tension and confusing in him leave.
"I guess the best place to start is the beginning," he said. And for the next two hours, he told Mon Mothma his story, from growing up on Sulon, being admitted to the Imperial Academy, the botched raid on the asteroid and his encounter with Jan on the Queen of Empire.
Mon Mothma listened intently, studying the young man's facial expressions as he talked. There was definitely something about him. He was unlike most Imperials she had encountered in her time. He seemed genuinely grieved over the deaths of both the Rebels and his own troops on the asteroid mission. And when he spoke of his father, the mixture of love and anger in his voice told her that this Katarn could also be dangerous. Unchecked, his anger could strike out at both friend and foe. And while he had chosen the Imperial way, what he had learned of his father's death and the Empire endured had thrown his entire world into chaos, leaving him searching for the truth.
When Kyle finished speaking, Mon Mothma began to question him closely, seeking to see whether or not he could be trusted. She especially wanted to know what Kyle planned to do now that he had left the Empire. As Kyle responded, her worst fears were realized. He was being driven by blind anger and the need to get back at the Empire for killing his father. While she understood his reasoning and motivation, she feared what would come of it.
"Lieutenant," she began.
"Please, " he said, interrupting softly.
"What is it?"
"I'm not a officer anymore. Heck, I'm not even part of the Imperial Army anymore. Call me Kyle."
Mon Mothma nodded, impressed by this. It showed that the former Imperial was conscious of what he had done and that he could never go back.
"Very well, Kyle," she said, continuing in a no nonsense tone, "you need to understand that everyone in the Rebellion has their own personal score to settle with the Empire. Many want revenge on the Emperor and his soldiers for the death and destruction they've caused. But, in order to be useful and achieve our goals, we must put aside our anger and need for vengeance. If you're going to be a part of our work, I need to know that you can do likewise."
Kyle shook his head. "I just don't know if I can."
"Then let me ask you this," she said, "Suppose you go out, find all those responsible for your father's death and kill them. What then?"
Kyle didn't answer at first. Up till this moment, revenge was all he wanted, revenge on the Empire for what they had done to him. It seemed a straightforward goal. But now he found himself considering what would happen or what he would do should he accomplish the goal.
"Bear this in mind as well, Kyle," Mon Mothma said, looking him directly in the eyes, "think about what kind of man you'll have become should do this thing. You will have become no better than those who serve the Empire."
Those words struck Kyle like a blow. He leaned back in his chair and for the first time since seeing the images of his father's death, considered the ramifications of pursuing revenge blindly. He didn't like what he saw in his mind, and yet could he put aside all the anger he felt? An answer came to his mind. Kyle didn't like it, but it was all he could come up with.
"I'll try."
"I can live with that," Mon Mothma said, standing. Again he had impressed her. She had half expected him to say he wouldn't be able to, but Kyle's expression mirrored his words.
She reached a hand across to him. "Welcome aboard, Kyle Katarn, and welcome to the Rebel Alliance. I…"
Kyle held up a hand.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Mon Mothma," Kyle said, choosing his words carefully, "I appreciate that you want me to join your Alliance, but I can't."
Jan turned a gaze of fierce disbelief on him as Mon Mothma raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"And why not?" she asked.
"Yes, Katarn," Jan queried, "why not?"
"I've just given up the Empire after eighteen years of Imperial indoctrination," he explained, "years of being told the Alliance was nothing more than collection of criminals and malcontents who desired to destroy the peace the Empire had created. Now, I've discovered that the Empire murdered my father and has been lying to me all these years. I don't know whom to trust anymore. Perhaps your Alliance is the right way, and I should join. But I'm just not ready, not yet."
Mon Mothma sat back down, withdrawing her hand. She was clearly disappointed, Kyle could see. He tried not to look at Jan, whose eyes were glaring daggers at him. But then Mon Mothma's face cleared and she smiled at him.
"I understand, Kyle."
Jan turned to look at Mon Mothma, her face mirroring the shock she felt.
"The Empire has abused his trust, Jan." Mon Mothma explained. "If I were in his shoes, I wouldn't be sure who I could trust either."
Kyle nodded. "That's it."
"However, Kyle," Mon Mothma said, the smile disappearing as quickly as it had come. "If you're going to work with us, I need to know I can trust you."
Kyle considered that for a moment, then said, "I give you my word that you can trust me and I pledge to aid the Rebel Alliance however I can. All I ask is the freedom to strike at the Empire wherever and whenever the opportunity presents itself."
Mon Mothma stood again and this time Kyle rose also. She held out her hand and he took it. "I accept your word, Kyle Katarn and charge you to keep it."
"I will," Kyle answered, releasing her hand.
Mon Mothma's face broke into a smile as they sat back down. "I'm glad you've decided to join us, Kyle, such as it is."
"Thank you, Mon Mothma," Kyle said.
"I can't say I agree with you, Kyle," Jan said, "but I'm glad you'll be working with us."
Kyle looked over at her. "Thanks."
The trio conversed further, deciding that Kyle would serve in a freelance agent role for the Rebellion. He would go on all missions as directed by Mon Mothma and report directly to her, with the understanding that should anything happen to him, he was on his own.
"And," Mon Mothma, "I would like you to keep thinking about whether or not to formally join the Rebellion."
"I will think about it," he said.
Mon Mothma opened her mouth to say more when a beep sounded in the room. Reaching to the table, Mon Mothma reached to an embedded panel and pressed a control.
"This is Mon Mothma."
"This is Norval on the bridge, Mon Mothma. The captain would like a word with you and Jan."
"Very well," Mon Mothma said, closing the channel.
"I'm sorry, Kyle. There is more for us to discuss, but duty calls. Until we return, I think your time might best be served in the hangar bay."
He looked at her quizzically. "As part of your new role with the Alliance, I'm going to provide you with a ship. When you get to the hangar bay, look for the ship in slip 23."
Kyle nodded, and stood as Mon Mothma rose. "Until later, then, " she said, exiting the room with Jan following.
Mon Mothma sent for a guard to escort Kyle to the hangar bay. When the man arrived, she told in no uncertain times of Kyle's new status and the consequences should he "fall" again. After confirming that he understood, the guard followed as Kyle stepped through the doors. They spoke little, beyond the guard indicating where to turn.
As they rounded a corner, Kyle had to stop fast as the two guards who had "helped" him earlier came from the other direction.
"Well, well," said the bigger one, "looks who's here. Our 'friend'."
The smaller guard nudged his partner. "Don't do anything stupid, we're already in enough trouble with Mon Mothma as it is."
"Listen you guys," said Kyle's guard, "I've got orders from Mon Mothma to escort him to the hangar bay. And she explained in great detail what'd happen if something happens to him. Besides, he's joined us.
"Oh really?" said the bigger guard, "guess you realized you Imperials aren't a match for us, eh?"
Kyle said nothing, his eyes locked on the other man's until he was view was obscured as his guard stepped in front of him.
"Back off, you guys."
"Yeah, c'mon," said the smaller guard, "let's go."
With a last look at Kyle, the bigger guard allowed his companion to lead him away. "Okay. We'll settle this another time."
"Anytime, anywhere."
The bigger guard went still for a moment, then whipped around. "What did you say?"
"You heard me," Kyle replied.
"Enough," said Kyle's guard, "let's go." They stepped past the two guards, Kyle and the bigger guard holding each other's gaze until they were past each other. "That wasn't smart," said Kyle's guard, "Bastro is no one to mess with." Kyle shrugged, saying nothing as he followed his guard to the hangar bay entrance.
Standing before the doors, the guard pointed and said, "Right in there. I'd advise against trying to steal a ship."
"Even if I could," Kyle answered, "where would I go?"
"Not far," the guard said, turning from Kyle and striding away.
Watching him go, Kyle wondered if he had made the right choice after all. Shaking his head, he moved towards the doors, which parted before him. Entering the massive docking bay, he took a number of wrong turns before finally locating slip 23. And when he looked inside, Kyle began to have even more second thoughts about joining the Rebellion.
Before him sat the ship Mon Mothma had promised him, a Corellian VT-1300 cruiser. Kyle remembered from his classes at the Academy that the VT-1300 was a design phased out nearly ten years ago. And yet here it was, pocked & pitted, rust covering several portions of the hull. A pointed nose widened out where the cockpit was continuing back to where two wings jutted from either side of the fuselage. Twin vertical stabilizers stabbed out from the tail of the ship. Whatever color it had originally been had long since faded away, leaving a mishmash of differently colored hull plates and sections. Near the cockpit, Kyle found the name of the ship, Moldy Crow. How appropriate, he thought, moving to the cockpit where the hatch opened with the squeal of unused and rusted hinges.
The smell from the cockpit only convinced Kyle all the more how old the ship was. Oh boy, he thought, what has Mon Mothma stuck me with here? Settling into the cockpit couch, Kyle broke into a fit of coughing as a cloud of accumulated dust issued from the seat cushion. Waving his left hand to clear it away, Kyle reached forward with his right to the main power switch. I'll be lucky if this thing's not running on batteries, he thought disgustedly.
But to Kyle's surprise, a steady green light came on when he flipped the switch to the "on" position. The instrument cluster began to activate, dials, lights and displays all powering on smoothly. Well, well, Kyle thought, surprised, maybe we've got something here. Kyle next reached for the engine switches, flipping them on. There was a cough from behind him, then a roar as the ion drives and repulsorlifts came on. The ship rocked a bit, repulsors slightly uneven. Kyle adjusted them and the rocking motion dissipated, leaving a smoothly floating Moldy Crow and a very surprised Kyle Katarn.
Someone's been taking care of this old bucket, Kyle thought with satisfaction, glancing at the displays. The Moldy Crow boasted military grade shields as well as four laser cannons.
"Well, old ship," Kyle said, "you might just work out after all."
Still, the ship did need some work. After settling it back down onto the deck, Kyle checked some of the other nearby slips until he located some tools, including some rags and lubricant. After oiling the hatch and beating the remaining dust from the seat cushions, he was about to perform a second systems check when a beep issued from the communication panel. Reaching forward, Kyle pressed a button on the console.
"Katarn here."
"Kyle, this is Mon Mothma. I gather you found the ship."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And what do you think of it?"
"Well," he said, "it's unique."
"That it is, Mon Mothma said, chuckling, "I need you back in the briefing room, immediately."
"On my way."
Exiting the cockpit, Kyle gave the ship an admiring look, and then moved towards the hangar bay entrance.