Slayers of the Old Republic
Book III: Dantooine
By Michael Weyer
Malak gazed out at the space before him. The Leviathan was making its way from the wreckage that was Taris into open space. It had been a week since the slaughter of the planet and the Sith fleet had stayed to go through what was left. Part of it was salvage as any materials could be useful. Part of it was to ensure if there were any survivors…and deal with them if they were.
The most important part, however, was to find any remains of Bastila. And so far, they had come up short in that regard. The news did little to sate Malak's blood lust and desire. It left him with the same empty void in the middle of his heart and soul, the void that drove him every minute of every day.
A Sith had no regrets. Malak knew that. However, he could not deny that taking the mantle of Dark Lord as he did was not as satisfying as it should have been. He was always going to betray Revan, he knew that from the start. Revan even knew it from the start. They both knew and yet they pretended they did not. It was a game they played for a long time and it served well.
Malak had always hated being second to Revan. It had started when they were at the Academy together. No matter what Malak did, no matter how much he trained, Revan was always there above him, taking more accolades, getting more attention.
It was Revan who proposed taking the fight to the Mandalorians when the Council was weak. Revan had always had so much charisma so it was natural many would see that black-masked figure as the leader of the forces. Malak did and thus followed him.
Followed him through the war. Followed him to that temple. Followed him to the Outer Rim. Followed him when they took control of the Sith and attacked the Republic. Always following him.
Yet, Malak had always respected Revan. The power, the ease with which Revan used the Force, it had never ceased to impress Malak. Malak also had to admit jealousy that he was not blessed with such a great tactical mind as his Master.
Jealousy. Malak supposed that was what it had all come down to. Jealousy of Revan's abilites and drive. Jealousy of how it was Revan, not he, who had made the discovery of the Star Forge.
So when the opportunity had come to rid himself of Revan once and for all, Malak took it. He did not regret doing so. He was sure if circumstances had been reversed, Revan would have done the same. He had destroyed his Master and spread the word it was the Jedi. He had taken the mantle of Dark Lord and done his best to rule.
He had discovered ruling was not as easy as he had supposed. It was amazing the sheer number of logistics Revan had needed to handle. But Malak had done his best and he believed he had done it far more effectively than Revan had.
And yet…and yet there was still that nagging feeling inside him. He'd heard the whispers among those who thought he could not hear. The soldiers who wondered if perhaps he had killed Revan that way because it was the safest course of action. That he had been afraid to fight Revan one on one.
As much as he hated to admit it, Malak had to admit to himself that he did regret not being able to duel his master. To face Revan Sith to Sith, lightsaber to lightsaber and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt Malak was the better.
But that was in the past now. Revan was dead and so was Malak's chance to settle that question. He was committed now to the destruction of the Republic and ensuring the Sith were the only power in the galaxy. Perhaps then the void within him would be filled.
But frankly, he somehow doubted it.
A cough came from behind him and Malak turned to see Admiral Karath waiting patiently. "Lord Malak, the Star Forge is operating at 200 capacity - far beyond our expectations."
Malak turned away from the magnificent windows behind him, the transparent-steel affording what would have been a breathtaking view of the stars in hyperspace. "I am more interested in the young Jedi Bastila and her Battle Meditation. Have you learned how she was able to escape the destruction of Taris?"
"She was aided by Carth Onasi, my Lord, a decorated war hero of the Republic and a legendary soldier," Karath said, his voice heavy with disappointment. "During the Mandalorian campaigns, he was honored many times for his bravery."
Malak's eyes narrowed. "You know this man?"
"Yes, my Lord," Karath confirmed. "He served under me when I still followed the Republic. You could say I was his mentor." Aware of Malak's gaze, Karath hurried on. "Of course, he is the enemy now and I will not let any past friendship get in the way of what must be done."
Malak nodded. "How did you acquire this information, Admiral?"
"An eyewitness, my Lord" Karath explained. He turned and motioned to a figure standing in the doorway of the bridge. Malak watched as a squat man entered, clad in a blue coat over a suit of armor. A white cowl covered his head and he stared out through mirrored goggles. The expressionless face and quietly precise movements would be eerie to anyone other than a Dark Lord. Indeed, Malak could see this was a killer born and bred and felt a respect for him.
"Lord Malak," Karath said, gesturing to the man and continued. "Allow me to introduce Calo Nord, the noted bounty hunter. He was there when Bastila and Carth escaped the planet. Apparently, they left him for dead."
Malak appraised the man with interest. "A Jedi and a war hero - it is a wonder you survived the encounter."
"I'm hard to kill, Lord Malak." It was not a boast, just a simple statement of fact. Nord seemed entirely nonplussed before Malak, which was quite the refreshing change.
"Calo Nord has agreed to help us capture the young Bastila - for a very hefty fee, of course," Karath hastened to add. "I can assure, you, however, that he is worth the price. His reputation as a bounty hunter is well-earned."
Malak nodded as he faced Calo. "Her companions are nothing to me. But I desire Bastila taken alive if at all possible."
"I've never failed a job yet." In truth, Nord would have charged more for this but didn't for several reasons. First, the way things were going, the Sith were going to be the ones to deal with soon and it was probably best to keep a good relationship with them. Second, pressing a Dark Lord of the Sith for more cash wasn't a bright move.
But most important was that these people had gotten away from him. And no one got away from Calo Nord and lived to tell about it. He had a rep to maintain, after all.
Karath coughed once more "Lord Malak, forgive me. There is...something else. Perhaps we should speak off the bridge, away from the ears of the common soldiers."
Malak's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I trust you are not wasting my time, Admiral Karath?" he said in a voice designed to strike fear in a subordinate's heart.
Surprisingly, Karath actually seemed amused, his lips turning into a slight smile.
"No, m'lord. I promise that you will be most interested in the descriptions Calo Nord provided of Bastila's other companions…"
Short but another scene I felt cool enough to deserve its own chapter.