Chapter Note: This chapter overlaps with part of the previous.
Intermesh
- Revan Freeflight -
...
A thousand stars winked like tiny dots of ferracrystal in a sea of black. In front of me, through the transparisteel that encompassed one entire wall of my personal quarters, the universe was laid out in a matrix of opportunities... a game-board that I controlled.
My bare limbs felt languid with the aftermath of sex; a deep lassitude that eased my body as my thoughts stretched ever outwards.
Things were finally coming together. Not as quickly as I had once hoped, but I would yet see my vision of galactic might come to fruition.
Behind me I heard soft footfalls, felt the heat of a naked body draw close. Truly, it had been too long since my desire had been slaked in such a fashion. I had plans to set in motion, but they would keep. For a time.
Revan! A woman's voice, appalled and frantic and amplified by a vast, alien power.
...
A rush of air sucked deep into my lungs; my eyes snapped open in confusion. The shards of the dream slipped away; leaving nothing but the image of infinite space and the lingering impression of physical satiation.
Instinct had me firming my shields against the bond; the first action upon consciousness. I was not ready to risk reaching out for Bastila. Not yet.
An errant notion dashed through my mind: Had it been Bastila's voice, urging me to wake? Had I imagined her hammering at my shields? Bastila... I couldn't- I didn't dare lower my guard, not unless absolutely necessary. Not with Malak so deeply entrenched in her mind.
I sighed, forcing myself to relax back against the soft bedding. I could hear the quiet breathing of Mission above me, and the snuffling snores of Juhani on the other bunk. Comforting, familiar sounds. The Ebon Hawk was the only home I could truly recall, other than the memories of Jen's childhood- and the artificiality of those were glaring in their dissonance.
Like holo-pics pasted over an old album, but the adhesive was inferior and the edges were flapping loose-
Right here, lying in the dim of the port living quarters, I was in the closest space I had to a safe harbour. My heart clenched in trepidation that it could all end so soon-
The best I can do right now is catch another hour of sleep. We'll be woken when the repairs are complete. Logic sliced through my bittersweet nostalgia; I knew I had to be at the top of my game for what came next. Ruminating over where I considered my only home to be was not going to help in that regard.
With a forced wrench of concentration, I once more focused on emptying my mind of both thought and emotion, while lulling my heartrate and respiration back into a deep, heavy state of slumber.
...
His hand was hot; a welcome burn as it pressed against my naked shoulder. I didn't turn and face him: it was space I stared out into, infinite space that I mastered. But his tension was evident in the fingers that dug into my flesh, and it amused me.
To think, we play the game of worlds, and yet we are still so embroiled in the personal.
The Sith used passion to augment strength, but a true Sith knew how to use it with calculation.
"I have a right to know what you plan," he bit out. "This concerns me as well as you."
"Enough." I let my command echo on the Force. I let the power circle tight around the muscled, naked body behind me, and my amusement vanished in the blink of an eye. "You will find out when I will it, and not a minute earlier. Obey, and follow. If I have to make you kneel again I shall." I let my voice drop to a whisper. "I would prefer you willing."
He paused, and absently I took note of his inner struggle. It was a trifling observation; my mind was otherwise engaged, stretching out into the plans of the future. There was a tactical victory to be grasped at Deralia, if what Nisotsa had uncovered bore fruit. But I planned to commence my offensive towards the Rodian corridor, and for that I needed a real leader on the other side of the galaxy.
Revan! I must speak with you!
"As you will, Master." His words ghosted past my ear. Was there a tone of defiance in them? Resentment? It was hard to tell, but at least, for now, he was compliant.
For now. Maybe it would be best to send him to Rodia immediately.
I have little time! Please!
But- there was time to play, first. And we both enjoyed that. With a smirk, I turned around-
Wake up!
...
I sat up in bed, gasping. The last eddies of slumber unfurled and vanished as my heart thundered in my ears. The aftershock of a mammoth psychic blow rattled me, dissipating the remnants of the dream that had been about- about-
I grimaced, hands clenching against my sides, twisting the coarse blanket between my fingers. An icy sense of superiority still lingered, the knowledge that I had been the dejarik master: every person, every planet, every fleet had been positioned to my ultimate desire, even the man behind me-
Deralia. The word slithered through my mind with horrifying dread. It had been mentioned, somewhere in the throes of dreamworld that were already fading-
Was this just before everything fell apart? Like it hadn't already, so terribly, fallen apart. Was this a scene of me pushing Malak a step too far, ordering servitude from one who had been an equal, using him like a Corellian Dagger in a game of And'zhai Runes- all the better for my own cold, cold plan-
Mal- Malak- I didn't even really know what the man looked like; in this recollection I hadn't even granted him the courtesy of turning to face him as I demanded his compliance-
-as I planned to take over the galaxy but not before jumping into bed with him once more-
What sort of monster had I been?
The worst, most depraved sort. Who'd cared nothing for-
Sithspit. I wasn't getting back to sleep, that was for sure. With a grimace, I rolled out of bed. Maybe a quiet cup of caffa, before the others woke, would allow me some time to gather my thoughts- to push back the shadows of my past and harden my resolve that I could do this- that I was strong enough to stand firm against the corruption I had once embraced.
The common room was dark and quiet as I entered. I took one step towards the percolator and-
-something slammed against my Force shields, shattering through my introspection and splintering the remnants of the dream into oblivion.
This time there could be no doubt what- who that was. Bastila!
You must speak with me!
My mental guards still held, but her words were thrown with so much strength behind them- more than I would have expected from her- that they leeched through anyway, each one reverberating with frenzied need.
That sort of potent, wild power would wake the others.
Can I really deny her? She's frantic... she needs me...
Her desperation was evident as I felt another hammer of psychic power- another demand for me to listen-
What if this is Malak's doing? He had his fingers in her soul, true enough. Yet, in the end... what was Darth Malak but a villain of my own creation?
The Dark Side didn't allow partnership or equality. Somehow, I knew that truth, memory-blind or not. Any relationship would corrupt, in the end; no matter how deep and steadfast. Even the only thing that seemed to remain – physical gratification, if my ominous dreams held any truth – had not held back the inevitable.
Betrayal.
And yet... I couldn't forget the notion that the Dark had been a conscious decision of mine... I had gambled... risked everything – Malak's love and the love of all others dear to me – as if I believed I was strong enough to own the Dark Side...
I had gambled, and I had lost.
Please!
And Bastila... what was Bastila's circumstance, but my doing?
I couldn't deny her.
It took a conscious effort to drop the psychic barrier between us. My soul was instantly submerged in an immense flood of power through the bond; I gasped, rearing back in physical reaction, bombarded by a thousand scents and scenes flashing like wildfire through my mind-
-all too fast to make sense of anything but this overwhelming power-
The bond didn't feel like Bastila anymore, but something ancient, deep as the blackest ocean, an alien sense of Force that was utterly fathomless-
I knew it, I recognized it-
Revan, Bastila spoke, and the power retreated sharply. Suddenly, Bastila was once more the bond-sister who'd been so intimately connected to me for months. Listen quickly. I dare not trust this sort of communication. Not anymore. Malak is too often in my mind, and the power of the Star Forge augments his abilities.
...it was obvious Malak wasn't the only one tapping into the Star Forge-
Yes, only under his guidance. Or so he believes. She sounded vaguely irritated. He sleeps, for now. I can only hope this has not awakened him, but I do not dare keep up this communication. He grows interested in psychic abilities, Revan, and he notices when I use them. This will rouse him sooner or later.
How do you know he isn't listening right now?
I don't. She was impatient. Desperate, also. We must speak. Get yourself to the temple, Revan. The top of the temple. Go. Go, now.
I had to wake the others, at least-
No. Was it my sleepiness that allowed her such easy access to my thoughts? Or was the power beneath her grasp, so foreign and so familiar, magnifying her skill into a staggering form of psychic control that changed the balance of the scales between us? Hurry, Revan. Come alone. I beg you. We must speak, and every second counts.
An insidious thought crept through me: I could not forget all we had devolved into on the Leviathan, and Malak surely held her strings like a puppeteer-
This is no trap! The alien power was there again, strengthening her desperation, throwing her indignance into my face. She was affronted, and had no remorse in showing me so, forcing me to feel the bitter taste of her emotions as they flashed back to me through our mind-link.
Calm down! I snapped back in reaction. That much power was bound to draw the attention of Malak- or any Force-user nearby, really. If he wasn't there already, behind her every thought-
I had the sense of her sighing in irritation, and the Force ebbed once more, drawn back beneath her shaky control. I am yours, Revan, as you are mine. Our bond allows no other recourse. Trust me. And hurry!
But, no- I couldn't sense Malak anywhere within her at present. All that shimmered through the bond was Bastila, intertwined with the massive power from the Forge that she kept drawing on.
How could I turn away from her? Or deny her very real desperation?
Waking the others will take time. Time to explain, time to convince. If I hurry, I might be back before anyone notices. But I'd be a fool to keep myself so open to Bastila.
I'll be there as quick as I can, I promised, and gathered the Force up in the tightest of shields I could manage before running out of the freighter.
xXx
The inner archway of the pyramid was bereft of any natural light. The Force outlined the curve of the walls in blue-black, a perfectly symmetrical surface of some metallic compound I didn't recognize. I strode forward with measured steps, drawing the Force tightly inward, somehow recognizing that allowing my awareness to unfurl would be dangerous-
-glimpses of the truth can be found here-
My thoughts stayed fixed on Bastila. I hadn't spoken to her since I'd left the 'Hawk – I didn't dare risk it. Risk her, risk myself. And yet she was leading me to the top of the pyramid-
-beneath you, the truth is beneath you, power to do what you need-
It was impossible to ignore; the deep thrumming of promise at the bottom of the edifice I now entered. And yet it was Bastila I would follow... what if this is a trap? Why is there no life anywhere nearby? No guards, no sentries, no defence systems? Why has Malak left this place unprotected? Could Bastila have disabled the temple's defences, knowing that we'd need to overcome the EMP scrambler, with the Republic Fleet on its way?
But would she know that? Stars, how had she even known we'd crashed on this unknown planet?
Malak. Malak would have sensed it.
I clenched my teeth, forced the dark thoughts back, and walked on.
The vestibule was metres deep into the pyramid before it opened into a vast inner chamber. Around the edges of the curved wall were incomprehensible sigils written in-
Massassi? Some ancient dialect of Massassi? A quiet, artificial murmur from the back of my head. But no, Jen was wrong. Not Massassi, although there are similarities... I narrowed my eyes, fixating on one intricate glyph directly above my head that abruptly coalesced into meaning-
...
"Mastery," I translated, staring hard at the sigil. Flickers of nearby firelight danced over the walls, illuminating the carved inscriptions in a soft golden colour. "The next one states 'of life.' The Rakatan sure like to grandstand their own achievements."
"We didn't have to enter like this," Mal muttered behind me. "It was rash, Revvie. Unnecessary."
"You're wrong." I struggled to hold back a frown at his comment. This was why I'd sent him away before Kashyyyk. Malak had always championed my objectives, but something about the Rakatan technology unsettled him deeply. But I needed him with me on this mission – and I needed him at his best. "I did what I had to."
"You always do."
...
The voices fled, and the sigils dimmed to the blue-black of my Force-sight. My breath stuck in my throat. I can't... I can't lose myself to the past. Not here. Swallowing, I unclipped Karon's lightsaber and held it tight, as if for reassurance, before stepping into the inner chamber.
It was a vast, circular room with four exits, including the one at my back. In the centre rose a massive sculpture of a stern Rakata, both eyestalks aimed in my direction, with limbs outstretched as if drawing on the power of the universe itself.
Shooting up from the long-fingered hands and into the ceiling beyond were two dense beams of pure, undiluted energy. In my Force-enhanced sight, they were thick braids of dark vermillion; coagulated blood, the life-force of the galaxy-
-glimpses of the truth-
I shuddered, and dragged my gaze away forcibly. That's the beacon. It's... it's coming from beneath the statue. Prickles of awareness rose to life all over my body, and my skin was suddenly, intensely, hyper-sensitive. The stagnant air felt like it was pressing in, like it had a beat all its own, vibrating with the residue of the beacon itself-
-your past could be revealed here-
My jaw clenched, hard enough to ache. I could feel myself glaring. My fists knotted at my sides, as I stared at the millennia-old Rakata and wondered fiercely what sort of technology they had dabbled in- and whether it led to their odd, unexplained extinction.
The effigy of the Rakata stared back as I struggled to overcome the all-familiar vertigo. His small, thin-lipped mouth was carved downwards in a disapproving sneer-
...
"This is what the Rakatan used to look like," I murmured, surveying the scowling statue that was bathed in the glow of amber firelight. Sconces were dotted haphazardly around the walls, all cinched tight around a burning torch apiece. It was an odd contrast of technology: treated wood held aflame in a crude poraclay holder, affixed against a sleek, unblemished wall made from a fine-grade metal even I didn't recognize.
The primitive mystics outside added the torches, no doubt. They have no true sight, no vision beyond the organic. They comprehend so little of their own past greatness.
The chiselled Rakata loomed over us, and soaring through his dead palms blasted the lifeblood of the universe itself. Surely, surely, this was a mirror of what the Star Forge would offer me.
"Keep your awareness held tightly inward," I said, repeating myself from earlier. "This is not the time to investigate the power of the kaiburr buried here."
"I know." His words were short. Sharp. Annoyed. "Ever wondered why the Rakatan died out, Revvie? Ever thought they might have played around with powers beyond their control?"
My gaze stayed fixed on the bust of the Rakata. He looked similar enough to be the same species as the ineffectual Elders who tried to control our entrance; but there were differences, too. "They were taller, more muscular than their Force-blind descendants," I mused, ignoring Malak's earlier words. "The Rakatan of old would surely shudder at how their species devolved."
"What, before or after you-"
"Do you want to leave?" I snapped, a sudden upsurge of anger firing through my gut. "Because honestly, Mal, I'm not in the sodding mood to argue. Either stay and help, or go wait by the shipwreck while I sort this out on my own."
"No. You've wrangled the both of us inside despite the wishes of the Elders. I'll not leave." A heavy sigh from behind had me relaxing; a little, anyway. He sighed a second time. "I- I'm sorry. I don't agree with your methods, but I have your back. I'll always have your back, Revan."
...
I shuddered again, recoiling back to the darkened present. The reminiscence of gentle torchlight dissolved, and the room slowly faded back to the indigo of darkness. The statue, no longer resplendent with the flickers of amber fire, was once more a series of hollow blue-black etchings.
The only colour in the chamber now was the thick scarlet beams of tempting Force energy the Rakata clutched.
I have to get a sodding move on. The glances of the past were messing with my head. It was me I recalled, driven by need and purpose, but with a calculating edge that felt a trifle too sharp, a fraction too cold... a warning sign of things to come.
I hadn't fallen then- I had logical reasons for my objectives- yet, I wondered... had I already been touched by corruption? Hardened by the horrors of war? Scarred and jaded before I'd even grasped the reins of the Star Forge?
How much was I like that Revan who had walked these walls once?
Who had come here with the overriding desire to claim the Forge for her own?
Who I was doesn't matter, I thought with an inward snarl. My fingers curled tight around Karon's saber, tight enough that I could feel the indentations from the hilt press into my skin. This time I'll destroy the Forge. This time I won't follow the same path.
I've already lived that horror once- even if I don't remember it.
I averted my gaze from the cursed statue and instead examined the exits. The passageways beyond were etchings of indigo lines, enough to make out the detail: two led down, and one revealed steps climbing upwards before disappearing from sight.
I kept the Force cinched tight around me, closed in like a buffer from any outward influence, and strode towards the ascending stairwell.
xXx
The steps curved up in a circular fashion, winding through the temple, circumnavigating the very centre of it. On the inner wall, I could feel the thrumming of the beacon through no more than a few metres of metal. It didn't stop calling me, and the past didn't stop reminding me-
...
"Uza, pleen, tota, daden," he muttered behind me. Malak had taken to counting the never-ending steps, after complaining about a lack of stars-forsaken elevators. Having exhausted his knowledge of Mando'a, he'd promptly switched to Ryl.
"We'll run out of stairs before you run out of numbers," I murmured, mildly amused. Ryl was one of the few languages we'd known before the Jedi found us. Jonohl had taught us his home-tongue, back when we were kids struggling to survive in the slums of Altizir. He was long gone now, as was every ember of our poverty-stricken childhood.
"Bo, dopa, duba, fwanna," Malak retorted, switching to Huttese.
...
Maybe, in a sense, the flashes of the past helped distract me, helped keep the temptation of the beacon at bay. But I was dizzy and lightheaded, and I leaned hard against the railing as I trudged ever onwards. Beneath my fingertips, the smooth surface of the alien metal was a familiar sensation in itself. Fragments of memory reared in response, like jagged pieces of a puzzle I had no hope of ever completing-
...
"The glyphs tell stories of their conquests," I commented. Mal didn't know Rakatan. Mal didn't know about the supercomputer on Kashyyyk, and everything I had learned from it. For some reason, I hadn't been willing, yet, to share what I had found next to the Star Map. "See, this one's about Tatooine."
"Does it talk about their retreat from a bunch of gaffi-wielding primitives?"
It did, actually, but not quite in those words-
...
I gasped, stumbling up a step, as my gaze caught on the section of glyphs that detailed the terraforming disaster of Tatooine. The part of my mind I identified as Jen struggled and failed to translate it, before a deeper part picked up the reins and-
...
"An atmospheric calamity, they write," I said, amused. "The Rakatan believed the world itself no longer useful, and appear to have no idea they'd been, essentially, driven out by the Tusken Raiders."
...
The Sand People...
The chieftain had recognized me. HK had mentioned that-
First time... first time around, I'd dealt with the Sand People peacefully. The realization turned my stomach, and with a sick jolt, I saw once more the bodies HK and I had scythed through, the slaughter we had exhilarated in, the dark contrast to the calculating me of the past who'd instead stopped and collaborated with the natives rather than descending into darkness-
The dead air rasped against my throat as I sucked it in.
Second time around, I went in and slaughtered the lot-
Okay. Okay, maybe that's so. My jaw was clenched tight as I accepted the unnecessary mess I'd wallowed in on that desert planet. Tatooine was a bad time for me. I've grown from then. I know what the frell is going on, now.
Well, mostly. Regardless, I was steadfast- and I would not allow the past, recent or otherwise, to influence my actions from this step forward.
With a wrench, I pulled my gaze away from the revelations of the Rakatan glyphs, and concentrated instead on leading one foot in front of the other.
I'd lost any real awareness of altitude. I'd been ascending for some time now, but it was hard to judge how far from the top I was. The staircase petered out into another room, much smaller than the chamber at the bottom. The Force energy was there, again, but instead of channelling through the medium of a forbidding Rakata, this time it shot up through the centre of the antechamber unencumbered.
I had the strongest desire to step forward and immerse myself in it.
-glimpses of-
The temptation was strong, but so was my self-awareness – I knew just how dangerous this sort of undiluted power could be. Stars, even the old me had remained focused on my end-goal, if the snippets of the past told me anything.
-you could see once more what you found in the Unknown Regions-
Oh... oh that was tantalizing beyond measure.
...which immediately raised my hackles of suspicion-
...
"Is there a danger in walking through this? This- the energy is bleeding through the entire chamber-"
"No," I mused. "It's benign... insofar as the temptation of the kaiburr could be called benign. It is merely concentrated residue. Residue of the kaiburr holding still in this room. You have to be Force-sensitive to pass through this antechamber... and yet controlled enough not to lose yourself to its lure."
Malak didn't respond, but he flanked me as I took a step forward.
"The remnants of the Rakatan are, to a one, blind to the Force," I added, skirting around the centre of the chamber. It was much smaller than the grandiose one at the bottom, and the kaiburr's power was deeply concentrated, here. "They cannot pass through this room. We shall not find any Rakatan beyond."
"Or anywhere else," he muttered.
...
The residue curled back from the conduit of power, intermingling with the air and swirling through the entire antechamber – right down to the individual molecules I could sense buzzing around me. I kept my gaze averted from the vermillion tideway that blasted through the middle of the room, but I couldn't ignore the seductive wisps of kaiburr that-
Kaiburr... I blinked. I'd remembered something about kaiburr-
In my grasp, Karon's lightsaber hummed. I hadn't noticed it, until now, too caught up in the tangled skeins of the past-
Is this... is this beacon coming from some sort of kaiburr crystal?
Crystals were an amplifier for the Force. Not a source, no; but Yudan had theorized the Star Forge might draw its power from the only sun in this sector. What if the pyramid drew on the life Force of this unknown planet, and then utilized some sort of massive kaiburr to strengthen it, before powering the scrambler?
If that was right... Destroy the crystal, destroy the strength of the signal. Maybe Carth is correct.
My lips thinned, and I took a resolved step forwards. And another. I kept to the edges of the room, looking only beyond to the one exit, focusing my mind on the objective. I reached the threshold, another curved archway of alien metal, and placed my palm against it-
...
"Revan." His voice was low and serious; serious enough that it had me turning at the threshold, one hand pressed against the cinereal alloy of the wall. "I must say it one more time. Once more, before there is no turning back."
It was hard, to push down the aggravation. This had been our joint quest on Tatooine and Korriban, but it'd all changed on Manaan. He'd begun to doubt, to fear, to disbelieve-
After Manaan, I'd sent him away, ostensibly to check in with the fleet but, in reality, to allow me to find the Star Map on Kashyyyk free of his nagging doubts and cautious concern. I'd wanted him at my side for this final endpoint, though, and he'd come as soon as I'd called.
He always would, no matter his reservations.
I owe him enough to listen, my conscience nagged me. But there was a small, insidious voice deep in the back of my mind that whispered maybe Malak wasn't strong enough for this-
I bit back a sigh, and turned to face him. The Force energy illuminated his handsome face in shadows of blood-red; beyond this room, I knew, everything would be pitch-black. The Rakatan could not pass here, so there would be no more markers of primitive firelight.
"Say your piece," I said, striving to keep my voice reasonable.
"We are already heroes, Revan. We have achieved the impossible. Victory. And you would risk this on-"
"Heroism comes with its own obligations, Malak." I stared deep into the whiskey-brown of his eyes, willing his faith in me to return. It would, I knew, but the battle for it was both annoying and emotionally exhausting.
Yet I did what I had to, whether it was to convince Malak or forge my own path. There was nothing more fundamentally important to me than the continued strength of the Republic, the governance for peace across the galaxy- but it was too weak. Too shaky to withstand-
"Do you really believe what we found is a big enough threat for what you are leading us to? Everyone has differing accounts of what they saw," he said. His eyes beseeched me to listen. "I fear for Talvon's state of mind. Nisotsa is shaken. Alaki-"
"Kreia understands. And she is not the only-"
"I have never trusted that old bat, Revan. She has too many shadows of her own past to remain objective-"
"Malak," I cut in, my voice cooling. "We all saw shades of the same thing. You believed in the danger at first. The Mandalorian threat is nothing to what may come to pass-"
"What may come to pass! And that is exactly it!" he erupted. "Can't you just... let sleeping demons lie? It is beyond known space." His voice held a wheedling tone, a plea for me to falter. A cold chunk of my heart lost respect for him at that very moment. "Your objectives are sound, but your reasoning for them is not."
And this, I thought with frustration, is why I had been elected Supreme Commander ahead of him. Malak had been raised by his enigmatic brother Devari, whereas I'd been fed on Freeflight's stories: fleet strategies of battles long past, political manoeuvrings of dissenting factions, and what I now understood to be passive Force techniques. Oh, Malak had learned something of strategy at Freeflight's knee, but half the time he'd scoffed at the old man's stories.
He'd never resented my promotion ahead of him. Malak knew I made the better leader – even as he was both a brilliant commander and charismatic front-man to the masses. But he lacked the ruthlessness required to oversee the entire game-board.
Malak would do anything for me – even now, I knew, he would follow despite his deep objections – and that was the true difference between us.
He would always follow me, no matter what he had to sacrifice in order to do so. No matter if he believed I was wrong.
The same cold chunk of my heart withered at the realization.
"We go forward, Malak," I said, turning my back on him to face the smaller stairway. "The Mandalorians were only the start of this war. We go forward to save the Republic."
...
I was leaning against the exit, shivering with dizzying breaths of air as my awareness returned. Behind me, the channel of Force called, a seducing siren-song of power that battled with the nauseating crumbs of the past.
-you could see once more what you found in the Unknown Regions-
What if... what if Malak had been right? It sounded like he'd believed whatever we'd found... we could have just left it alone.
For nothing... nothing had ever emerged from the Unknown Regions. Nothing had threatened the galaxy, the Republic... except me.
And now, Malak.
The shudder that coursed through me was borne of deep, icy horror. I'd fallen- and what if I'd fallen for a reason that didn't even exist?
It doesn't matter. The thought was sad and hollow, and it echoed like the gong of an ancient tabernacle. It doesn't matter. That binding truth sank deep into my soul. If I fell due to madness, or a lust for power, or because of a non-existent threat- it truly doesn't matter.
What matters is cleaning up my mess.
Maybe, all the past did now was confuse the issue. Maybe, I didn't need any of my past to move forward.
-you could see-
And that meant the damn Force beacon had as much power over me as the fragments of my broken history: only what I allowed it.
And I would allow it nothing.
xXx
The next set of stairs was steep, curving in tighter to the centre of the pyramid. Force-power pushed at my heels as I clambered forever upwards, feeling the urgent drive to ascend as quickly as possible to Bastila.
To the top of the temple.
The stairwell straightened, abruptly. The width of the pyramid could not be large, now, yet the stairs were ascending in one direction only; moving off-centre from what had been my path so far. The beacon was behind me as I followed the corridor, which flattened out before making an abrupt turn-
And there was another archway, leading into an even smaller chamber. No Force energy here, though; the room was off-set from the centre, but even so, the beacon wasn't far away.
I took a cautious step forward, ducking into the entranceway-
"Stop," I commanded, at the threshold-
I paused, staring into the pitch room beyond. On the far side-
"What?"
Nothing but-
Two short staircases, both leading to a door apiece. The Rakata Elders had said either door would lead to the roof, to the controlling console of the kaiburr, but through the walls and floor in this antechamber I could feel the faint oscillations of a different mechanism-
There was nothing beneath my feet now but cold, dead metal.
My eyes narrowed, tracing the patterns of faint electricity to the staircase. Hidden panels, triggering a mechanism that would- that would-
"It's a trap," I stated, staring hard at the doors beyond.
There were no doors. Just a vast hole- most of the far wall ripped out in chunks, allowing starlight from outside to seep in-
"Two people, walking through each door simultaneously, would counter-balance it," I said, frowning. "But enter with only one and something... something would activate-"
I was alone this time. But I couldn't sense anything except the tantalising, overwhelming promise of the kaiburr. Nothing in this room.
"You need two people to cross this room," Malak surmised. "That's why the Elders insisted on only one."
"Because they never planned for me to actually reach the Star Forge," I finished. "They've been protecting this relic for generations, yet they are Force-blind. They must know about this room; this trap or test that their ancestors created. And so, the Elders use it as the only means they have to stop Force-users – by deception. By convincing them they must go in alone."
Something had happened. Something had changed this room. For, now, it felt safe to cross, safe to clamber over the metallic rubble that hadn't been there in the past; and scale the far wall before crawling through the hole to outside-
"You suspected a trap, before we entered? Is that why you killed them all?"
"I knew there was subterfuge of some sort," I murmured absently, drawing the Force in deep. The kaiburr beneath us resonated in response, threading into the energy I harnessed, promising more the more I took-
I stepped forward, hands outstretched, almost expecting the room to collapse or explode or fill with lethal electrocution- and yet knowing it wouldn't, all at the same time.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, sensing the Force coalesce beneath my grasp. "There's two of us. You said we could clear this room safely-"
"Stay behind me," I warned, still poised at the entrance, unwilling to step forward until I was satisfied. "I refuse to leave this mechanism intact to catch the next Force-user unaware. It is millennia old. What if it triggers spontaneously? What if it activates on the two of us regardless? Who knows if one of us should ever have to return, alone, for some reason?"
The power grew, and I was ready to unleash it-
I gasped, the memory of a Force backlash shuddering in my mind. The sight of metal warping and shredding, the staircases melting, violent purple electricity lashing through the room as I held it at bay from the threshold and destroyed the mechanisms inbuilt into the walls and flooring-
I stumbled forward, landing hard on my palms, looking up to the jagged hole of starlight-
"Done," I said, dropping my hands. The skin on my palms burned, but it was a meaningless injury, easy to ignore.
"You drew on the kaiburr, there." Malak's voice held a touch of awe. "That- that- was immense."
"Yes," I agreed. It was hard to push the lure of the kaiburr back, but I would. Self-control was key; I understood that well enough. Stepping through the room, I noticed with satisfaction that it had transformed into a ruin of rubble and cooling metal. An acrid smell filled the air with a sharp, caustic edge. Opposite us, the stairs and doors were gone; in their place a torn chunk of the wall gaped open to the elements, bathing the far side of the antechamber in the golden rays of sunshine.
My vision was eclipsed again, as sunlight morphed into starlight, and the smell of burnt metal vanished. I pushed against my palms, heaving back to my feet with effort, and strode to the far wall.
Bastila might be here. Enough of the past. It's time to focus on the present.
The bottom of the hole was at least two metres high; with a quick twist of Force energy, I jumped, caught my hands on the edges, and swung one leg over into the space beyond.
I stood in a courtyard, walled in partially by the sloping sides of the pyramid, but it was larger than I expected. From the ground the pyramid had appeared to close directly into a point at its apex; but I saw now this wasn't the case at all. Above me, there was a fair clearance of open air, allowing an unencumbered view of the stars above.
In the middle of the courtyard the raw energy of the kaiburr shot straight into the heavens. Somehow, from there, the signal spread out to encompass the entire sector. Maybe the planet's atmosphere diffuses the signal as it passes through... spreads the power out far and wide. The signal went a long way... I sensed that much when we'd been landing. The EMP scrambler covered more distance than anyone would realistically expect.
Mere metres in front of the fount of kaiburr power rested an innocuous console. My gaze fixed on it. Maybe that's how I can disable the scrambler. But there was no way Malak would have left it unguarded, surely-
Not unless Bastila did something.
Frowning, I looked around. The console was bathed in the vermillion radiance of the beacon, but the corners of the courtyard were darker. On the far side, behind the blast of Force, were a set of misshapen shadows-
I stepped forward and around, the beacon to my side before the blue-black outlines translated into any sort of sense-
A snubfighter. The realization was confusing, almost bewildering. A sleek, foreign snubfighter, big enough for one or two sents. Jerking my gaze up, I frowned at the clearance above – it would be possible to launch the ship from here without touching the Force beacon, but it would require finesse.
What the frell is a snubfighter doing here? On the darkened ground in front of the fighter was an oval holo-stand I barely noticed. Is it Bastila's?
Was she in the snubfighter? I was here, and it was time to find out what was going on. I kept my gaze fixed on the angular cockpit of the small fighter, expecting it to hiss open and my bond-sister to jump out at any moment – even though I couldn't think how she'd have escaped from Malak's clutches.
Behind me, in the depths of the pyramid, the Force flickered.
With a conscious effort of will, I dropped all shields within the bond, and reached out.
The Force flickered again. And then a third time.
Bastila? I called out, clear and loud through our mind-link. I'm here.
xXx
Author's note:
Coming up next: Bastila's plan differs from Malak's.
Many thanks to kosiah for the beta and suggestions.
