Kyle Katarn: The Rise & Fall
Book 1: Rise of a Hero
Chapter 12: Dark Encounters
Author's Note: A moderately difficult infiltration has led Kyle and Bastro to the generator room, charges set. But from the shadows steps something not quite a droid, not quite a man. And for myself, I say to the two, RUN!
As he thought back, Kyle wasn't sure what happened first. Whether it was Bastro's scream or the sound of the thing's blade slicing into his chest. Air whooshed from the man as the thing pushed into him. Relentlessly, it pulled the blade out a bit then stabbed it in further, the tip exiting through Bastro's back. Overcoming the shock he felt, Kyle screamed, "NO!"
But the thing seemed to ignore him as it withdrew the blade, now slick with Bastro's blood. The security guard fell back, crashing to the ground. He didn't move. The thing observed him for a moment more, then as if deciding it was finished with Bastro, turned its attention to Kyle.
Kyle's gun spoke again and again, bolts streaking out at the thing. Those it didn't deflect with it shield seemed to be having no effect at all. It was drawing closer to Kyle, blade ready to eviscerate him as it had Bastro. It jumped, and he threw himself away, dodging to the right. The thing, unable to stop itself, jammed its blade into the deck where Kyle had been standing only a heartbeat ago. He dashed away, putting some distance between himself and the thing.
It struggled to pull its blade free and Kyle, realizing he hadn't much time, thought fast. His Bryar pistol was useless against the thing. But what about…? Reaching into his jacket, he grabbed two of the six thermal detonators he was carrying. One in each hand, he armed and threw them at the thing. The detonators exploded as they came into contact with the metal skin.
It was knocked to the side; it's blade-hand snapping in half as it fell. He smiled fiercely at it. "Didn't like that did you?" As if it had heard him, the thing rose to his feet, seeming to growl somehow. It studied its broken blade arm, then stepped towards Kyle, extending the arm as if intent on using the broken blade anyway.
He armed two more detonators and let them fly, aiming lower this time. The thing tried to swat them away, but missed. They exploded, smashing one of the thing's legs. It toppled to the ground, metal grinding as it struck the deck plates. Whatever elation Kyle felt evaporated as he saw the thing trying to rise despite its shattered leg.
As if realizing it couldn't walk, the thing jabbed its blade into the deck, pulling itself forward. "You just don't know when to quit," he said, pulling out the remaining detonators. These he armed, then rolled them towards the thing. The first touched its head and exploded. When the blast cleared, he could see the thing's head had been nearly vaporized, its droid brain shattered. He smiled fiercely at the wreckage, the thrill of victory surging through him.
But then he remembered Bastro. Running over, Kyle knelt by him. Bastro was lying on his side, his back to Kyle. Rolling him onto his back, Kyle gasped at the huge, jagged hole in Bastro's chest. Blood was everywhere, soaking the deck beneath him. "Bastro?" Kyle said, "Bastro, can you hear me?"
There was no response.
"C'mon Bastro," Kyle said, his eyes stinging, "talk to me. Say something."
The man's eyes opened and he turned his head slightly to look at Kyle.
"Bastro!"
"Hey, buddy," the older man said, his voice low and weak.
"Listen," Kyle said, "I've destroyed that droid or whatever it was. We've got to get out of here."
Blood bubbled up past Bastro lips as he tried to speak. Then he smiled. "Sorry, Kyle, I'm gonna have to sit this one out." His eyes closed and Kyle heard a last ragged breath come from him.
"I got his body onto the lift just as the first of the detonators went off. Once we were outside the base, I left Bastro's body where I could find him and headed for the Moldy Crow. Then, after loading Bastro as best I could in the rear cockpit, I set coordinates for the New Hope."
Silence descended as Kyle simply stopped talking. Mon Mothma and Jan exchanged a glance. Both were thinking the same thing. But before they could voice it, Kyle spoke again. "I can see now that I am not cut out for this sort of work. Maybe I never was."
"Kyle…" Mon Mothma began.
"You trusted me," he said, interrupting, "and for that, I am grateful. But you need a better operative than me." With that, he rose and headed for the exit.
"Kyle!" Jan called after him, "where are you going?"
He didn't answer, but kept walking as the briefing room doors opened before him, then slid shut as he passed through them. Jan looked to Mon Mothma.
"Follow him."
Jan nodded, and set off in pursuit of Kyle.
As it turned out, he wasn't hard to find. She followed Kyle to his quarters where she watched him pack his few belongings. Jan tried to draw him into conversation, but Kyle seemed not to hear her. When he finished closing the large bag, Kyle threw the carry strap over his shoulder and started for the door.
Jan blocked his way. "Okay Katarn," she said," enough of the silent treatment. Where are you going?"
"I'm leaving," Kyle said as if that totally made sense.
"But where will you go?"
He didn't answer, instead reaching out a hand and pushing Jan out of the way and left the room. Caught off guard, she stumbled as Kyle strode out of the room and down the corridor. Jan pursued him all the way to the hangar bay where he made his way to the Moldy Crow.
"So, you're running," she said.
That brought Kyle up short. He looked around at Jan, anger visible on his face.
"No, I'm not running," he said coldly.
"Sure looks like you are," Jan answered.
He started to speak but Jan cut him off. "Look Katarn, I know Bastro's death is a big shock to you. It's never easy to see friends die. Believe me, I know. But you can't just turn your back and run away and hide."
"I told you…" Kyle began, anger in his voice.
"Yeah, yeah," Jan said dismissively, "you told me you're not running. Then what are you doing, Katarn? Yes, you lost a friend on this last mission, and it's a horrible thing to deal with. But what you're doing isn't going to help."
Before her brain had time to register it, Kyle had crossed to her in three quick steps, standing almost nose to nose with her. His eyes were blazing and his lip quivered as he spoke
"Then, if you know so much, what will help me?"
To his surprise, Jan didn't return his venom. Instead she laid a hand on his chest and looking directly into his eyes said, "Not giving up."
He stared at her, unsure of what she meant.
"Kyle," Jan said, her voice kind and soft, "Bastro's death is a tragedy and you will need to take time to grieve. But, you also need to remember that this is a war and in war, people die. And sometimes, the ones who die are our friends."
"But…" he began
"Listen to me," Jan said, a bit more forcefully, "I know you feel nothing will ever take away the pain and anger you feel right now. But, if you give up now, if you walk away, that pain will eat at you for the rest of your life."
"I…" he tried.
"Kyle, please don't walk away, don't run and hide. It won't help you. Stay here and help us. And someday, when the Empire is finally defeated, your pain will ease."
Jan could see tears brimming in Kyle's eyes. And it was only with a supreme act of will that he held them back. He opened his mouth to speak, but just then Jan's communicator dinged. With her right hand on his chest, she pulled the communicator free with her left.
"Jan here."
"This is Mon Mothma. I need you in the briefing room immediately. There has been a breach of security and we may have had an operative captured."
"Kyle is here with me," Jan said, "should he come as well?"
"Not yet," Mon Mothma, "we need to study the reports and intelligence on this to determine what has actually happened. Perhaps later, if he's still aboard…"
Jan looked to Kyle who nodded, unable to say the words.
"Kyle's staying Mon Mothma. I'm on my way."
Jan returned the communicator to her belt and looked to Kyle. "C'mon, let's go back to your quarters." Kyle nodded again.
Moving to stand beside him, Jan took his free arm and guided him out of the hangar bay. Despite the pain and grief he felt, Kyle noticed her touch. Firm, but soft and warm too. He liked how it felt.
Returning to his room, Kyle followed her inside and deposited his travel bag on the floor.
"I've got to get going," Jan said, letting go of his arm. "Promise me I'll find you here later?"
"Okay," Kyle said, his voice almost a whisper.
With a nod, Jan left the room and Kyle sank on the bed, head in his hands and wept.
The briefing room whooshed open as Jan walked inside. "How is Kyle?" Mon Mothma said as Jan moved to stand opposite her. "Hurting, but I think I got through to him. At least, he didn't leave."
Mon Mothma nodded. "Good. Despite what I said over the communicator, I may need Kyle for this mission."
"What's happened?"
Mon Mothma responded by pressing a control on the panel before her. The holoprojector came on and a face appeared. "This is Crix Madine," she said without preamble, "an Imperial general. Two years ago, he approached one of our agents on Corellia and made known his 'dissatisfaction' with the Empire. Since then, he has been working covertly for the Rebellion, providing intelligence, diverting the occasional shipment."
"But, something's happened?" Jan asked. "Yes," Mon Mothma answered, "Imperial Intelligence has been keeping close tabs on Madine since we destroyed a construction yard he was in charge of."
Jan eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak, but Mon Mothma beat her to it. "Madine's latest transmission to us was intercepted and decoded. He has been arrested on charges of treason and scheduled for execution. I need you and Kyle to infiltrate the prison and rescue Madine."
Another Imperial base, Jan thought unhappily, and a prison world to boot. "So," she said, "when do we leave?"
"As soon as possible," Mon Mothma said, "but before you ask Kyle about this mission, there's something you need to know."
Quarters of Kyle Katarn
He still sat on the bed, hands resting limply on his thighs, head bowed. He had cried for a while until no more tears would come. As his breathing returned to normal, Kyle realized he had cried for more than just Bastro's death, all the emotions he had felt since that mission on the asteroid had welled up and come forth.
Now he felt washed out, completely drained, unable to move. He knew he should get up, do something. But what was there to do? Where did he have to go? His actions alone would mean the Moldy Crow was off limits and he had no desire to challenge security right now.
The door chime sounded. Kyle didn't answer, wishing whoever it was would go away. He didn't want to see anyone, much less talk. The chime sounded again. Go away, Kyle thought, just go away. But when the door chime sounded a third time, he found enough strength to speak.
"Go away."
"Kyle?"
"I said go away."
"C'mon, Kyle, it's me."
Kyle said nothing in response. He recognized the voice of Castron Droum immediately. The man had been kind, even generous to Kyle at the celebration of the destruction of the Death Star. But now…
"I know it's you, Caston. Go away."
"Look Kyle," the man said, "I heard about Bastro, and you really shouldn't be alone right now."
"I don't want to talk."
"So don't talk. Just let me in and you can listen."
Rather than waste any more energy arguing, Kyle raised his head up until he could see the door. Then, moving slowly, he rose to his feet and stepped the door, unlocking it.
It slid open and Caston stepped inside. Kyle glanced at him, then turned round and went back to the bed, sitting back down on it. He heard Caston sit in the room's single chair, but he said nothing.
Kyle let the interminable silence last for as long as he could stand it.
"Well?"
"Well, what?" Caston said.
"You said you wanted to talk."
"No, you said you didn't want to talk. I said you could listen."
"So?"
"So what?"
"If I'm going to listen, then you're supposed to say something."
"I didn't say I was going to talk right away."
Kyle couldn't stop it; the chuckle worked its way past his lips before he could stop it.
The chair creaked and Kyle felt a glass being pressed into his hands.
"Going to get me drunk so I'll talk?"
"Maybe, maybe not. You'll just have to find out."
Kyle felt the curved shape in his hands, rolling it between his fingers. Then, bringing the glass to his lips, he downed the contents, waiting for the kick of whiskey. But what greeted his taste buds was the familiar, sweet flavor of juri juice.
"Nice choice," he said.
"I thought so," said Caston, "Now…"
Realizing the bridge that was being extended to him, Kyle took it.
Two hours later
"And that's what happened," Kyle said, downing his fifth glass of juri juice.
"Wow," Caston said.
"I just know if I can go on doing this. I'm not afraid to die myself, but if someone else dies because of me…"
"Oh, come off it," Caston said, his sympathy turning to anger, "you act like you helped that thing kill Bastro."
"If I had ordered him to stay with the ship…"
"Then you'd be dead and likely Bastro too once the Imperials found the Moldy Crow."
"I just wish…"
"… That it had been you instead of him," Caston finished.
Kyle turned to the man, a look of surprise on his face.
Caston nodded.
"I've been there," he said, "lost a close friend on a ground mission some years ago. I said everything you're saying now and probably what you're thinking too.
"What did you do?"
"I decided that rather than mourn my friend's death for the rest of my life, I'd make his death mean something by defeating the Empire."
"Is that what I need to do?"
"Kyle…" Caston began, but the door chime sounding cut him off.
"Kyle?" Jan said from the other side, "it's me."
"It's not locked," Caston said.
The door slid open and Jan stepped inside.
"Caston," she said, surprised, "I didn't realize…"
"That's all right," Droum said, standing up, "I was just leaving."
He put a hand out to Kyle. "You ever need to talk again, come find me."
Kyle surprised himself by smiling as he took the man's hand.
"Make it mean something," Caston said, letting go and exiting the room.
Jan watched with a puzzled expression as the man exited the room, then turned her gaze on Kyle.
"What was that all about?"
"Finding the answer I needed," Kyle answered.
Jan stared at him, unsure of what he meant.
"Are you all right?"
"No," he said grimly, "but I'll manage."
"You're not making much sense, Katarn. But I guess it'll have to do."
Now it was Kyle's turn to look confused.
"Mon Mothma has a mission for us, a very important one. How much do you know about the planet Orinackra?"
"I think it's another of the Empire's prison worlds. I remember that it was famous for holding traitors to the Empire."
Jan nodded. "Our intelligence agrees with you. One of our operatives has been captured and taken to the prison there. Our job is to infiltrate the base and rescue him."
"Sounds like Danuta all over again," he said, considering the complexity of the mission. "Who are we going after?"
"Before I answer that," Jan said, "You need to understand something."
"And that is?" Kyle asked, confused.
"This operative has knowledge, that if extracted, could result in the destruction of the Rebellion."
"Which is why we need to get him out," Kyle said, suspicion in his voice.
"Yes," Jan answered carefully, "but if the rescue cannot be accomplished, our orders are to eliminate the prisoner."
Kyle gasped in surprise, staring at Jan.
She nodded.
Kyle looked down at the deck for a moment. Whoever this guy was, he must have some pretty sensitive information. Rescue or death; not much of a choice.
"I can't say I like it," he said.
"Then you're probably going to like what I have to say next even less," Jan replied, "The prisoner is General Crix Madine."
Kyle's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. Crix Madine had been one of his teachers at the academy, specializing in small group tactics. Everything he knew about infiltration, and small arms combat he had learned from Madine. But more so, Kyle considered the man a friend.
One day, after a particularly difficult exam, Kyle had been the last to finish, his other classmates already dismissed and enjoying some free time between classes. But he had worked right up until one minute before the exam was scheduled to end.
The young man nodded, head rising. He stretched, muscles and joints cracking from being in the same position for so long. When he yawned, mouth wide open, Madine, then a colonel, couldn't help but chuckle as he stood up from his desk.
"I was starting to wonder about you."
"Sir?"
"You've been in the same position for over an hour. I was beginning to think you were asleep, or dead. Everyone else is already gone."
Kyle looked about, noticing the empty classroom. He then looked at the time display on the wall. His eyes went wide for a moment then; face flushing red with embarrassment, grinned sheepishly.
"Sorry, sir."
"It's not a problem for me," said Madine, shrugging, "I'm just wondering why it took you so long. Was the exam that hard?"
"Well," Kyle said, "it wasn't easy. I wanted to make sure I had used the right formula in question 4 since it affected the answers to questions 5-7. And the trick problem you gave us in question 10 almost threw me."
"Oh?" Madine asked, looking as if he had no idea what the cadet was talking about, "and what trick was that?"
"Sir," Kyle said, as if the answer was obvious, "everyone knows that the TIE Interceptor is too small to mount a hyperdrive unit. So, to take the time to calculate how long it would take an Interceptor in hyperspace to get from Coruscant to Alderaan is a waste of time and energy."
Madine said nothing for a moment. Kyle's confident smile started to fade and he feared he had gotten the question wrong. But then the colonel laughed.
"Very good. Some of your classmates spent an inordinate amount of time on that question. Nice job, cadet."
"Thank you, sir."
"Well, Cadet...?"
"Katarn, sir. Kyle Katarn."
"Very well, Cadet Katarn. If you'll hand me your test, I can grade it right now before you leave."
"Thank you, sir," Kyle said, the surprise on his face matching his voice. He stood up from his seat and approached Madine, handing the paper to him. He then returned to his chair as the colonel sat down on his desk and went over the exam.
Kyle watched in nervous anticipation. A red pen was clasped in the teacher's right hand. Several times, he saw it descend towards the test as if to mark a wrong answer only to see the teacher retract it. After ten minutes had passed, Madine looked up.
"Well, Cadet Katarn, you'll be pleased to know your hard work has paid off today. Every one of your answers is correct. Well done. With a flourish, he marked 100 on the paper and in his grade book.
"Now, Cadet, since it's past 1230 hours and I'm starving, I'm going to take my leave and go get lunch."
"Yes, sir, "Kyle said, standing up and saluting, "thank you sir."
Madine returned the cadet's salute and headed for the door. About halfway through, he looked backed to the young man who was gathering his datapads and books together, a triumphant smile on his face. A thought came to him.
"Cadet?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Would you care to join me?"
The young man hesitated. It was all but rare for a teacher and a student to be seen together at the Academy, much less eat together.
"Oh c'mon," Madine said, "You've got to be hungry."
I am hungry, Kyle thought, but what will the others think if they see me? They'll probably call me a brown-noser, but a chance to talk with the colonel and have lunch too? It was too good an opportunity to pass up.
"Yes sir," he answered, "I sure am."
"Then let's go," said Madine.
With Kyle walking to one side, the pair made their way out of the room and through the hallways. A few other students passed them, heading off to various classes, drills and other assignments. Madine returned so many salutes his arm seemed to be in perpetual motion.
Turning a corner, they entered the open space of the Academy cafeteria. Noise assailed them, other students of all grades gathered in small and large groups. Teachers and staff sat on one side of the room, deep in their own conversations. As the two neared the line of people carrying trays, the smell of cooking food wafted over them.
The colonel inhaled deeply, then sighed. "Mmmm, smells like bantha steak. I haven't had that in a while."
Kyle also smelled the delightful scent, but kept his silence. Academy protocol was, in regards to teachers; speak only when spoken to.
Grabbing trays, the pair made their way through the line, each receiving the same meal. The bantha steak was accompanied by several vegetables and a moon shaped orange colored thing Kyle couldn't quite identify.
Trays laden with food now, he followed Madine back out into the room. To his surprise, Madine sat down at the teacher's table and gestured for Kyle to join him.
The young cadet hesitated. Students didn't sit at the teacher's table; it was one of those unwritten rules you just knew. But before he could say anything, the colonel spoke.
"Hope you gentlemen won't mind. My student here needs some extra attention and I decided why waste time in class when I can do it right here?"
The other professors glanced at Kyle, their expression saying that he must be in trouble. Several heads nodded.
"Excellent," Madine said, "now sit down cadet, that's an order."
Still unsure, but conditioned to obey, Kyle sat down, arranging his trays and utensils as he drilled to do. He then sat at attention, waiting for the order to begin eating. Madine was already into his meal when he realized Kyle hadn't moved.
"Oh, dig in already, before you strain something with that posture."
Kyle began eating, the food answering the clarion call from his empty stomach. Neither man said anything as they consumed the contents of their trays. As time passed, several of the teachers sitting nearby finished their lunches and left, off to class or other endeavors.
Kyle finished the last bite of his food, except for the mooned shaped thing. He wasn't sure what it was, or if was even edible. Across from him, Madine pushed back from the table his own tray empty of food. He saw Kyle staring down at his tray with a expression that went from contemplative to disgusted.
"Problem, cadet?"
"No sir," Kyle said immediately, then considering his response said, "yes sir."
"What's wrong?"
"This," he said, pointing, "'thing' sir."
Madine smiled. "Try it, cadet. You might like it."
The cadet looked at the colonel with an expression saying he wasn't so sure. But, the colonel had said to try it. Closing his eyes, Kyle picked up the orange thing between two fingers and dropped it into his mouth.
As he began to chew, the cadet's eyes snapped open and a look of surprise came to his face. Madine couldn't help but smile.
"Well?"
"I'm not sure sir," Kyle said, "it tasted… strange. Slightly sweet. What was it?"
"I asked the cook the other day and he called it a sweet potato."
Kyle's brow wrinkled as he considered that. "Sweet potato?" he said slowly.
"That's what he called them."
"Well sir, I've had potatoes before and well… I didn't think potatoes were supposed to crunch."
Madine couldn't control his expression any longer. He began laughing. The cadet watched with a confused smile on his face.
The colonel got himself under control and said, pointing, "I've learned not to be too surprised by anything that comes out of that kitchen."
This set Kyle to laughing and Madine joined him. Suddenly, the colonel's wrist chrono beeped. Glancing at it, Madine's jovial mood seemed to evaporate.
"Well, it appears I'm late for an appointment, cadet. If you'll excuse me?"
Of course, sir," Kyle said, standing and saluting as Madine got up.
The colonel returned his salute and turning, left the cafeteria. Kyle followed, after depositing their trays on the dishwasher belt.
As he walked to his next class, Kyle decided that while he had enjoyed lunching with the colonel, it was unlikely to happen again. Pity, he thought, Colonel Madine was one of the veteran soldiers of the Empire. To hear the stories he could tell. Oh well, he thought, sighing, maybe someday.
As it turned out, however, someday was the very next day when Madine asked Kyle to join him at lunch again and for every afternoon for the rest of the term. At first, the young cadet adhered strictly to protocol, answering the colonel's questions and posing a few of his own, but strictly about the class Madine taught.
As time passed and the teacher-student relationship matured into a friendship, their lunchtime conversation got more and more relaxed. At the colonel's insistence, Kyle told of his past and how he gained his Academy appointment. In return, Madine told him of his upbringing on Corellia and his time spent racing swoops. This particularly interested Kyle, he had heard of swoops but knew very little about them. Madine's stories brought them to life and Kyle hoped one day he might get to try one.
Upon his graduation from the Academy, Kyle learned that Madine had received a posting to Imperial Intelligence and was leaving the Academy as well. His message to the colonel was returned with a personal visit. Madine shook his hand heartily and wished him luck, encouraging the young man.
"Don't settle for being a stormtrooper. You're too smart for that."
"Yes sir, but…"
"No buts, Lieutenant," Madine interrupted, saying Kyle's rank with pride, "you are one of the best students I have ever had and you can go far. But you have to want it."
"I'll try, sir."
"Good enough. Now, my shuttle departs in an hour and you have a liner to meet. Farewell, Kyle, take care of yourself."
"Thank you, sir."
With that, Madine turned and walked away. And now, his former teacher and mentor had defected to the Rebellion, been found out and was going to be executed? Not if I can do something about it, Kyle thought with determination.