A/N: As I'm sure you are aware, Bioware is going to be releasing a massive MMO called Star Wars: The Old Republic. The game will effectively destroy all chances of there ever being a KOTOR3, although KOTOR2 probably had as much to do with that. The point is, come early next year, the game will be released and this story will become sadly obsolete. This is a heads-up from me, I was planning originally of making this a 3-part series, but that isn't going to happen now. I haven't the time to complete another episode before this game comes out. However, I will be finishing the story of 'Jenesis', I owe it to both my readers and myself.
A note on Contortis; in the expanded universe is supposed to kill whoever it touches. However, there is no substantial reasoning for this given, nor do they say how much is required to be present to create enough energy to kill by touching. Since there is not nearly enough of an explanation given, I am omitting that ability.
Star Wars: The Dark Empire
Episode 2 - Jenesis
Part 8 - The Dark Lords Assassin
Telos, Polar Reaches, Jedi Academy
Never was physically drained. It was hardly surprising considering that he had climbed vertically for over a kilometre, but it boded ill for his chances should he get into a serious fight. He ran through the passages, deserted except for the dead, Hugas close behind him. Scents of burning, ash, ozone, blood and open bowels invaded his nostrils; strong enough to make him gag. As he ran, he used a Force-technique to help his body recover its energy faster than it would be able to normally. Far away, he could hear sounds of fighting.
They came to a group of wounded commandoes, who were lined up in a passage as a medic saw to them. "Master Marka," said the Medic, "I thought you were up with the main assault."
Never knew that Marka had suffered for a while being mistaken for him, but today was the first time he had been mistaken for Marka. It showed who had become the more well-known in the Republic. His hood covered his tell-tale unmarked left cheek.
"I'm just going there now," he said, not bothering to explain the situation. "What's the quickest way down?"
"The main passage has collapsed further ahead, take the second right and follow it down, don't take any turn offs. You can't go wrong."
"Thanks."
He led Hugas where they had been directed. It was warmer deeper in the academy, and when the air threw his hood back he didn't bother to push it back up. Minutes later, they came into the mid-levels of the academy, where most the fighting was happening. The enemy had dug in, being assaulted from both sides, and were giving up ground very grudgingly. The losses on both sides were horrendous.
"Master Marka," cried a ranking commando officer, running up to him, "I'm glad you're back. We're having problems extracting the enemy from…wait," His eyes travelled to Never's unmarked left cheek, and narrowed. He swivelled his rifle around, pointing it directly at Never's chest. "Who the hell are you?"
Never realised he had made a mistake dropping his hood, it was now apparent that he wasn't actually Marka. He was tempted to use the Force to alter the mans thought patterns and prevent him having to explain, but he couldn't risk the possibility that he'd been trained to resist such interference. He could not make enemies out of his own side.
"My name is Never Oneiro, you know me as Revan."
He had feared that the commando would immediately open fire, there were many who still blamed him for the Jedi Civil War. Then he would be forced to defend himself, and possibly kill the man. Fortunately the commando lowered his weapon.
"Master Marka warned us that you may be arriving," he said, "But he never said anything about you looking like him."
"Where is he?" said Never, relief washing over him.
"He was with the group that got attacked by some sort of invisible Sith. He stayed behind to deal with it."
"Where?"
After receiving directions, Never and Hugas set off at a sprint. Hugas was complaining loudly about stomach cramp, but Never ignored him. If Marka was facing who Never thought he was facing, every second was vital. As they got closer, Never could feel Marka's Force signature and cold focus. He remembered vaguely that Marka always fought cold from his days training with him. There was no doubt in his mind that it was Korgul he was facing, the 'invisible Sith' description fitted him too perfectly.
"Hugas," he ordered his apprentice as they ran, "This is beyond you, go and help the commandoes."
Predictably, Hugas was not happy. But he obeyed his masters instructions without comment. When they reached another turnoff, Hugas took the main path while Never headed down to the right.
Soon he came into a large open cavern, he supposed it must have once been a storage area but would have been used more recently as a training area for Jedi. Just off the centre, Marka and a smaller man he supposed was Korgul were clashing their blades at breathtaking speed. Marka was moving in the Yoshi Ma form - he was in dire straits if he was using it against a single-blade wielder. Never could hardly believe his eyes, Korgul was matching Marka's double white-purple blades with a single silver one, a nearly impossible feat even if the single-blade wielder used the ultimate form as well. Not only was Korgul holding his own, he was doing so without suffering any of the physical strain Marka was obviously undergoing. This coming from a man who couldn't possibly fortify his physical abilities with the Force, impossible.
In an instant they locked blades, and Marka was sent flying backwards towards the wall by a well timed kick to the middle, so fast that Never couldn't see it; neither apparently had Marka. Korgul rushed at him, obviously intending to end him as soon as he struck the wall. Never started running towards the two combatants, knowing that he couldn't possibly get there in time, even with the Force powering his legs. He was shocked, Marka was one of the strongest men he had ever known, and this assassin had sent him flying like a rag doll. Korgul was half a head shorter than him, and skinny as a cantina dancer. Everything about this enemy seemed impossible, including the fact that he could run almost fast enough to catch the flying man before he even struck. Only the Force could save Marka now.
Marka proved though that he was perfectly capable of saving himself, and instead of crashing landed feet first on the metal wall, sinking his claws in so he remained parallel to the floor. Even from where Never was running in from, Korgul's surprise was apparent. The assassin looked even more surprised when Marka bent his knees, and leapt from his strange perch. He dived low as Marka sailed over him, twisting to face him and moving his blade with viper quickness to stop the incoming blows from the hungry double blades. Although he was desperately off-balance, he still managed to block every cut as they passed each other in mid-air. Marka rolled as he landed, and twisted around as he rose with his double-bladed lightsaber in one hand. Never ran to his side, swiftly shedding his thick overcloak.
"I guess I chose the right moment to arrive," Never said, spinning his white-blue double blades; leaving gouges in the floor. He enjoyed the other mans presence, even under such extreme circumstances.
Marka did not say anything in reply; his gaze was focused on Korgul, who was also holding himself in a combat-ready stance. It was then that Never noticed that Marka was bathed in sweat and breathing heavily. He had probably been using Yoshi Ma for a while, he seemed close to exhaustion. As powerful as the ultimate lightsaber form was, it sapped its users swiftly, making it perilous for protracted combat. Never feared that he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer.
"And now there's two of them." said Korgul scornfully, "Haven't you realised by now that no number of Jedi can stand against me?" Never's arrival was clearly no cause of concern for him.
Marka said nothing, just breathed deeply, fixing his gaze on his enemy. Never focused the Force-energy in his body as he stared at his opponent. Korgul was noticeably shorter than either of them, with almost a waif-like build. While his face was angular and unremarkable, his eyes were scary. Red as blood, and burning with an intensity that trumped everyone Never had ever known; Sith and Jedi alike. His shimmering full-body suit seemed to fade into the surroundings on its own, it didn't have any natural colour of its own, its front was covered in white splashes and spots that Never recognised as residue foam. Behind his head was a sword hilt. Besides the strange suit, he looked exactly the type of man one would expect as the defendant in a mass-murder trial.
"Has anyone mentioned that you look almost exactly alike?" Korgul asked them when he received no response.
Only everyone who had ever seen both of them.
"I know why," he boasted, "I was told that you might look similar, but this is too perfect. Surely you must have figured it out by now?"
"Tell us," Never growled, no longer able to bite his tongue. The mystery as to why they were so alike had plagued his consciousness for nearly a year, he was sure Marka was just as eager to find out. They had both done a bit of investigating into it, but so far had come up with nothing.
"No," replied the assassin, "If you have not worked it out for yourselves, then it is not my place to tell you. Both of you being here at the same time though does make holding to my orders difficult."
What he meant by that, Never had no idea. By his earlier statement, he plainly wasn't afraid to face them both at once, which made him wonder what exactly Korgul's orders were. He noticed that Marka was using the Force to track air currents, obviously that would help his sight when it came to knowing exactly what his opponent was doing. Unable to pre-empt Korgul's attacks or skim his thoughts off his mind since he was Force-dead, it was the next best thing, and Never copied him.
"Ready to die, little Jedi," Korgul mocked.
Never spared a glance for Marka, who had used the time to catch his breath and looked better for it. His short loss of concentration nearly cost him his life as Korgul rushed in with impossible speed. His sense of the air-currents warned him, and he was able to block quickly. The force of his opponents blow nearly bowled him over.
Marka took the opportunity to slash at him, but Korgul ducked low and drew his sword in one liquid movement, blocking the blade; which flickered and deactivated. Marka used his other blade to block Korgul's following up stab, it deactivated as well. Meanwhile Never managed to send a vicious cut that Korgul was unable to block, he had to manoeuvre away to avoid it. The entire movement had taken less than three seconds. Again there was a stand-off.
Marka then spoke for the first time, "Pure contortis," he said, reigniting both blades, "but reinforced for strength. I see now why you don't simply carry another lightsaber."
Never stared at the sword, most of it was made of contoris-woven metal, but the edge was different. It looked like it was attached separately in pieces, and could be taken out at any time. The metal there was a different colour, and seemed to be giving off a faint glow. Never could see two small notches where Marka's blades had struck it.
"I see," he muttered, "I've never seen it in its pure form, I thought it was too brittle."
"That's why it's only on the edge," Marka replied, "Keep your 'saber on normal intensity and length, or it could be irreparably damaged by the recoil of losing its power."
While contortis-alloy metals would resist lightsaber damage to a point, pure contortis would make any lightsaber touching it short out. For a poorly made lightsaber that could sometimes last for minutes, the better ones though should be able to reactivate immediately. The contortis would still be damaged by its contact with the lightsaber, and was so brittle that it was easily broken. That combined with the extreme difficulty of refining a pure metal meant that few pure contortis weapons had ever been made, and none lasted.
"Smart, boys," said Korgul, giving a toothy grin, "Now, you want to know what it tastes like?"
Korgul attacked again, starting slower than before, but speeding up again almost immediately. Never rolled to the right, and came at Korgul from a right-angle to Marka. He tried initially to use his favourite Juyo form, but nearly died twice when Korgul's blade came far too close for comfort, once grazing his forehead. Never felt the dull burn of pain, and switched to the way of the whirlwind, which Marka was already using. He had practised it a lot over the last half-year, and was now nearly as good as his ally, even though he'd only ever received a handful of lessons on it.
Even facing two masters of the ultimate form bearing double-bladed lightsabers, Korgul was still holding his own. He was obviously very experienced at facing more than one opponent. He moved backwards and forwards, from side to side, making it nearly impossible for them to coordinate their attacks on him; coming at them one at a time. By the way he flowed to block their blows, he could obviously sense them coming, meaning that somehow he could use a form of premonition. By contrast, Marka and Never were constantly pulling desperate manoeuvres to block and evade. Both were reactivating their blades when they shorted out on contact with the sword, and a couple of times had to evade even after they'd blocked, the blade carrying on after it had shorted out the lightsaber.
Stab, block, three-point counter slash, desperate block, overhead cut, evade. In less than five seconds he had exchanged twenty blows with Korgul, Marka about the same. It was incredibly kinetic combat, the energy being expended by each of them would kill the ordinary Jedi or Sith.
Then disaster struck, Marka stopped using Yoshi Ma and switched to Sokan. He must have got to the point where the only way he could continue to fight was to do that, spent as he was. Korgul wasted no time in capitalising on his weakness, and moved to engage him while cutting Never off. In three moves Marka was in dire straights, in a further two his body position had been forcibly contorted into a indefensible angle. Seeing his plight, Never tried to step up his attack to distract the other, too late. Korgul kicked Marka's knee in. Never's heart skipped a beat as he heard the audible crack of splintering bone and shattering cartilage. Marka's face drained of colour as he fell with a gasp of pain. Another kick disarmed him and sent him flying and then skidding to the other side of the room.
With Marka sufficiently incapacitated, Korgul turned his entire attention -and both blades- to Never. Never tried to defend with all his might, reactivating his blades as they were snuffed out by the sword, his strength failing fast. Korgul had definitely worked up a bit of a sweat and seemed somewhat slower than when he had started, but without Marka's help Never was horribly outmatched. At the rate he was burning his energy, in another minute he would be unable to continue, if he even lasted that long.
Korgul had the huge advantage of premonition, besides being stronger and faster than Never. Never was desperately trying to think of a way to survive and protect his injured comrade; forget winning. A crazy theory formed in his mind, so ridiculous that had he not been beyond desperate he never would have acted on it. He focused the Force on cutting off his own premonition sense, it wasn't helping him anyway since his opponent was Force-dead. The effect was immediately noticeable, Korgul's reaction time to his attacks slowed, his movements flowed less. He had been right!
Never's theory had been that Korgul was, despite being Force-dead, able to tap into the active abilities of the Force users around him. With Never's premonition sense cut off, Korgul would still be able to draw it from crippled Marka, but it wasn't as much as he had been getting before. Which meant that he was probably also benefiting from their air-current sense as well, and possibly from their reinforcing of their bodies with the Force. It would explain his slowing, Marka was out of the fight and no longer powering himself up, so Korgul's strength and speed had diminished. It was a valuable clue.
Even still, Korgul had the natural strength and agility more than equal to that of a Yoshi Ma user, any residue power he drew only added onto that. Never was still stumped as to the source of his natural abilities, even in the unlikely event that he could power himself up with the Force, he wasn't tiring as a Yoshi Ma user would.
Korgul broke off his attack for an instant, and Never pulled back. For an eternal moment they stared into each others eyes, burning blue met molten magma. Then Never felt it, many Force-sensitive's approaching, they could only be allies. He smiled with pure relief. Korgul scowled a moment later, he had obviously sensed them as well, leeching as he was off Marka and Never's abilities.
"You're lucky," he snarled, "but I will find you. Treasure the moments you have left. And you," he turned to Marka, "I could kill you right now, but I need your mind. When I have you, there will be nothing left to save the Republic. We'll be seeing each other again -very, very soon."
With that, he turned and ran with impossible speed up the way Never had come from, towards the surface. He pulled on his head covering as he ran, fading from sight except for the residue foam attached to his front, which soon seemed oddly to be flying through the air. Never considered following him, then thought better of it. Korgul could easily turn and finish him off, he was nearly exhausted. Besides which, there was no way he could possibly outrun a man with that turn of speed. But since he was running, it meant that he had been lying when he said that he could take on any amount of Jedi, another clue.
Then the Jedi ran into the room, scores of them, led by a pale woman with short white hair; likely a Echani. They were followed by a collection of guards and younger apprentices, who seemed to be armed with an assortment of weapons, many of them probably scavenged. Shocked faces in the front ranks took in the sight before them, Marka on the floor nursing a shattered knee, his face grey with pain; and Never standing with his white-blue double-bladed lightsaber still ignited.
"What have you done to him, doppelganger," the white haired woman hissed, igniting her white double blades. The snap-hiss of lightsabers igniting filled the air as the rest of the Jedi followed her lead.
Never blinked, realising what it must look like to them. He raised an eyebrow at Marka, waiting for him to sort out the mess. This misunderstanding wasn't his only problem, he hadn't shielded his face, everyone had seen him. Those that knew that him and Marka looked remarkably similar would talk, and soon the rumour would be out that Revan had been on Telos. Jezebel would then be hot on his trail, the one person more dangerous than Korgul.
Never Oneiro was not having a good day.
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Telos orbit
"Lydale, *what* do you think you are doing?" Cora's voice crackled over his headpiece.
"A whole lot more than you, darl," he replied, smiling as he heard the sound of her fist striking something. He knew how frustrated she was that she couldn't do anything in the battle.
"Get back here NOW, or I'll make sure that Marka has your head," she commanded.
Both padawans had been ordered to stay put aboard the 'Indaba' by their Master, so he was disobeying his orders. Lydale had found a damaged E-wing fighter-bomber in one of the hangers, and with the help of some of the flight engineers had got it working; and armed. Now he was with the rest of the fighters forming up at the back of the fleet, ready to be unleashed on the incoming enemy fleet.
"Nothing doing," he replied cockily, "I'm not gonna stay safe while others are out there, fighting and dying."
"But you freeze up when you're under stress," she reasoned.
"Not when I'm in the moment," he told her, "I never froze up on the swoop track once, in all my years of racing."
"Please come back," she said, trying a different tack, "The other pilots, they're trained professionals, you're just a… well…"
"Swoop-Jock," the half-Miraluka finished, clenching his jaw.
"I didn't mean it like that, I…"
"Padawan Lydale Halcyon, this is Admiral Lorn," said a male voice, cutting Cora off. "I am obliged to warn you that disobeying your Master is a very serious offence. However, that is on your head, and between you and your Master. There is a place in Orange squadron, should you want it."
Lydale chuckled, hearing an outraged female voice in the background. There could be no doubt as to its identity.
"Thank you, sir," he said, and adjusted his frequency to that of Orange squadron. At last, the talents that had made him a Swoop-racing champion would be put to a worthy test.
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Telos, Polar Reaches, Jedi Academy (upper levels)
Korgul ran swiftly, moving at over twenty meters a second, far faster than any ordinary man could ever be able to run. He could run even faster if he wanted, but there was no need, it would only tire him. He ran past enemies and allies alike, cloaked in invisibility. All they would have seen was the air seem to move like liquid in front of them, and felt a rush of wind.
Soon he reached his destination, the 'Intangible', his ship. It was waiting for him in the hangar, while his remaining phantom's secured the perimeter. Korgul hoped the rest were inside the ship, there seemed too few of them.
"Master, it's good you came," said Alpha, running up to him, "The second fleet is engaging the Republic's as we speak, things are not looking good for them. In a few minutes they will be beaten, and we will be stuck here. We can't fly with the enemy fleets guns trained on anything that moves."
"And the army?" said Korgul.
"They were winning, but news got to them that the fleet was about to lose. The smarter ones realised that they would be besieged then, even if they won, and bolted towards their escape craft. Some tried to hold on, but more and more ran, until it was a riot. The battle there is lost as well, Master."
"How bad are our losses?" Alpha began to list estimates of how many men and ships they had lost. "I don't care about them you fool; they are only a means to an end," snapped Korgul, "How many of our own did we lose."
Alpha gulped. "Eleven, Master."
Eleven. Nearly half their number for only seventy-odd Jedi. The majority of those they had killed were initiates, and would not be missed. The trap had been sprung, it was a disaster of the first magnitude, all because the first Hutt fleet had been crushed by the Republic fleet before the second could arrive.
Korgul growled, he would have vengeance. The Republic would learn to fear his wrath even more than the Sith Empire did.
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Telos, Polar Reaches, Jedi Academy (mid-levels)
Marka sat against the wall, trying to ignore the pain of his knee resetting with a combination of kolto and Force energy. Since its healing was so rapid, he should suffer no problems with it later. Never knelt over him, pouring power into his leg.
Master Brianna and the rest of the Jedi and apprentices had left a short while ago to hunt down the remaining intruders, after Marka had first assured them that Never wasn't an enemy. He was quite safe in his hands; he didn't need any help from them; and no there was nothing sinister about the fact that they looked like twin brothers. Never had remained not so much to heal him as to talk to him, it would likely be the last time they met face to face for a long time with the way speed of current events was escalating. Besides, he was too tired to continue fighting.
"What reason would Korgul have to take you captive?" Never asked him, after they had finished discussing their theories about the assassins abilities.
Marka thought about it, then replied, "He seeks to destroy the Jedi order. You hunt hoppers by smoking out their dens." Hoppers were small, furry marsupials that lived in burrows on Alderaan. "He needs to find all the new Jedi academies in a galaxy filled with thousands of inhabited systems, and kill all the students and trainers there. That way we'll be defenceless when the Sith arrive. But there's only three who know where all of them are located, I'm one of them."
"How would he know that?"
"He shouldn't, only those on the Jedi council would."
"Then you have a leak. There is a traitor in your midst's."
"I know," said Marka, "Bastila and Mical are hunting a Sith, more than one possibly. They have three suspects currently. One of them is in Jedi council."
"Who?"
"Astin Lamar, do you know him?"
"Only by reputation," said Never, shifting his hands to grip Marka's knee, massaging his bruised muscels as they healed. Marka stifled a sigh of pleasure, the sensation was exquisite. "I knew his older brother Vrook, never really got along with him. By all accounts, Astin is a clone-copy personality wise. Both Lamar brothers were trained by Master Vandar, one after the other. Astin was a young padawan around the time of the Sith war. It is possible that he was turned to the dark side then, and simply hid it after the defeat of Exar Kun."
"Very possible," Marka agreed, then filled him in on all that he knew about the case. "It all seems to be pointing in Astin's direction," he concluded, "But there is still no evidence to support."
"It almost seems too obvious," said Never softly, and for a moment the two of them were silent, lost in thought.
"I've been wondering," said Marka, changing the subject entirely, "Why are you called 'Never'? It seems rather a strange name to give someone."
"It's my name," said the other defensively, his whole stance stiffening.
"Tell me why."
Never eyes had glazed, far off look as he began to talk, "I was found on the doorstep of an orphanage on Deleria at midnight, with nothing except a blanket wrapped around me; no note; nothing. I was less than six month old. The lady in charge of the orphanage was asked by one of her subordinates if she was going to name me, she was tired and didn't want to. The subordinate persisted, again and again. Finally; the last time he asked if she was ever going to give me a name, and she cried out 'NEVER', and the name stuck. At least, that is the story I was told, growing up."
"That's a rough start to life," said Marka, "So when did 'Revan' come in?"
"Well, like most other Jedi, I was brought into the order at a young age. Reven, or Revan depending on how you pronounce it, is just my name backwards. It was my secret name, one I only shared with the closest of my friends. Childish, I know, but then I was a child then. That's how it started anyway, by the time I reached my knighthood at seventeen, I insisted on being called Revan exclusively. Later that year, I left for the Mandalorian wars.
"You already know that story, I won't bore you with what happened in the Mandalorian and Jedi Civil wars. I can't even remember most of it anyways, there are still chunks of my memory missing. Towards the end of the wars, I was captured, my reign as Dark Lord ended; and the Jedi reprogrammed me with a new identity - Jake Oneiro. After I defeated my old friend Alek, Malak, my memories started returning. I could no longer hide behind the name Jake Oneiro, equally I couldn't return to the name Revan; it invoked too much bad feeling to whoever heard it. So I chose instead to call myself Never Oneiro, my original name with the surname of my reprogrammed identity."
"Never…Revan…Jake Oneiro…Never Oneiro. Three name changes," said Marka, his eyes widening, "Thrice…three, You're the prodigal!"
"Vandar called me that once," said Never, "The prodigal knight, he called me. Why, is it important?"
Marka explained to him what he knew about the Grey's prophecy, the Hearts of the Force. By the time he had finished, Never looked scared.
"Exactly how long ago were these prophecies made?" he asked.
"Shortly before Darth Messiah's rise to power," said Marka "Nearly a thousand years ago."
"Who made them?"
"I have no idea, I'll ask Laman the next time I see him. But I don't think he knows either."
Never was silent for a moment, obviously thinking hard. "I think its probably genuine," he said finally, "There's just too many parts that could be related to what's happening now. But if it is, we'll need to study it further to glean what we can from its secrets."
"What about that Lullaby," said Marka, quoting, "'Brothers, Sisters, stand'. Assuming that I'm the swordsman and you're the prodigal, does that mean we're brothers?"
"It could just be artistic license describing a close relationship," said Never, "But with our rather obvious physical similarities, it would be worth checking it out."
He took the empty kolto syringe that had been given to Marka, pulled up his sleeve, and stuck the needle in the large vein. After he had half filled the small syringe with maroon blood, he withdrew it and healed the small hole in his arm. He gave the syringe to Marka.
"Here," he said, "That should be more than enough DNA for you to match against your own."
Marka nodded, "If this brother-sister thing is true, I know who the other two Hearts are. Bastila and Kaya. Bastila is without doubt a battle-winner, and Kaya had a lot of visions last year; she saved my life twice through them. They're half-sisters, and they fit the bill for Protector and Prophet perfectly. 'Love to bind you together' could be referring to our Force-bonds with our wives."
"You could be onto something. Time will tell," said Never.
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Coruscant, Underground safe-house
"Are you sure?" said Lignance softly.
"Our intruder was very clever," Feasance replied, "He left almost no evidence that he'd been into my office. However, he made one fatal mistake; he touched the Pres'ion crystal." He pulled the multicoloured spherical crystal out of his robes, holding it up for the other to see.
"So he left fingerprints?"
"No, he wiped those off. The Pres'ion crystal is different to any normal lightsaber crystal, and far more useful for my purposes. It remembers all who touch it for days, but Force-sensitives mark it for months . I know who the intruder was."
Lignance reached up and took the smooth orb. Immediately he felt a jolt as it touched his skin. Then he focused his power into the stone, drawing into its power. Feasance's presence filled his senses, but there was another fainter one, one he knew well from his council meetings.
"Mical," he hissed, "That meddling fool, he could ruin everything!"
"No he won't. If we use this properly, we could be Lords of the Republic by the time the Empire invades. We'd organise a quick surrender, we could probably hold onto at least a third of the systems. That could be the beginning of our own Empire."
Feasance continued explaining his plan, and before the end Lignance was smiling. They would have power after all, power that they would have to share with the Empire initially, but that would change.
Both of them knew though that they had to rely on each other if they were going to get anywhere. There could be no dissention between them, or they would get nothing. It was unspoken, but both knew it. Their fates were linked, they would rise or fall together. And with Feasance taking the initiative with that plan, Lignance was no longer the master, the other had taken the lead. For now.
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Telos Orbit, the Indaba
It was hours later when Marka rejoined the fleet. By which time Never was long gone. He was flying with his padawan deep into Hutt space, his mission: to force a quick end to the war; and hopefully evade Jezebel and Korgul simultaneously. Marka had been against the idea, but had been unable to think of any other vital tasks that were any less dangerous, Never had been determined to do something useful. Certainly he couldn't let Never go after Korgul on his own, not after he had just beaten both of them at the same time.
Marka was miserable as he boarded the command ship, using a damaged rifle as a crutch for his partially healed leg. For the first time in his life, he had lost in combat. He hadn't been physically weak at the time, he had not had the wrong equipment, he had not been at a disadvantage from the terrain. He had simply been outclassed and outfought, despite his enemy being outnumbered. Admittingly, he had felt drained before he had entered the academy, but that was no excuse, certainly it hadn't hampered him when he had fought Korgul later.
Thunderous applause greeted him as he hobbled into the main passage, all the crew of the 'Indaba' commanders from all the other ships were lined up on either side; clapping and cheering. They were treating him like a hero, Marka knew he didn't deserve it. He had been beaten, humiliated, and would most likely be a captive of the enemy now if it hadn't been for the actions of others.
Cora came running up, hugging him quickly. "Master, I was so worried," she breathed, and released him. Then she took his arm over her shoulder, and began walking him along the passageway lined with jubilant people.
He felt better for the hug, well enough that he could hold his head up as he staggered down the crowded passage, acknowledging the soldiers appreciation graciously. Amazing that something as simple as human contact could do that for him. As a Sith, Marka had been starved for human touch while he had grown up, what little he'd had had been typically accompanied by pain. Only since his marriage had he learned the therapeutic effects of touch. Somehow female contact affected him far more, which worried him; he was trying very hard not to even think of straying outside his marriage bounds.
Lydale was waiting for them further on, looking distinctly shamefaced. Cora immediately went off on a rant about how he had disobeyed Marka's orders, taking a craft and joined the battle.
"How many kills?" Marka asked when he had heard Cora out, and reached his other padawan.
"Four," said Lydale, "a fighter; a corvette and two bombers. Also I helped to destroy a frigate."
"I told him that he shouldn't," said Cora, "He refused to listen."
"I made a decision," said Lydale defiantly, "I fought, I killed. And I saved Republic lives in the process. I will accept the consequences."
Marka thought quickly, this needed to be addressed now. Cora was right in that he could not accept insubordination from his other padawan, even if he had achieved Marka could not allow that precedent to be established. At the same time, he was impressed by Lydale's attitude, and his ability.
"Lydale Halcyon," he said softly, "You are no longer my padawan."
Both Lydale and Cora blanched. "Then I will accept your decision, Master," said Lydale.
"Master, that is too harsh," said Cora.
"You will be taking the Jedi trials."
There was a long moment of silence.
"You mean…" said Lydale.
"Yes," said Marka, "You have proven beyond doubt that you are ready, your training is complete. You are ready to become a Jedi knight."
Lydale had certainly not been expecting that. "Master…I…"
"And you haven't stammered once. Perhaps it is gone for good."
"Perhaps it has…"
"Master," said Cora angrily, "He disobeyed you, and you're promoting him?"
Marka was about to answer her when he noticed Lorn striding towards him, his face grim, his aura worse. Marka excused himself, leaving a fuming Cora and a stunned Lydale, promising to talk more later. He hobbled towards Lorn, who led him away with few words to a small room just behind the bridge. He was kind enough to help him along.
Bastila was waiting for them, she cried out with relief when he entered, and rushed in to hug him with such force that she nearly bowled him over.
"When I heard that you were fighting that psychopath, I thought…" she breathed.
"That I would die," finished Marka, straitening with difficulty. "I nearly did, but fortunately an old friend came to save me."
He was certainly getting an uncommonly large number of hugs, he wondered if this was customary after a battle. Bastila let go of him, and immediately he missed the feeling of her firm breasts against his chest. Silently he chastised himself for his uncontrolled and perverse thoughts.
"Who?" It was Lorn who asked.
Marka paused. He had agreed with Never that they would keep his being in the Republic from Bastila until he chose to reveal himself. But there would undoubtedly be rumours circulating in the aftermath of the battle, despite Marka's orders that those who had seen Never should keep their lips sealed. Sooner or later Bastila would find out, and put two and two together. Better she heard it from him.
"Your husband, Never," he said, turning towards Bastila.
Bastila's eyes widened, and she gasped. "How did he know to come? Even if he had found out by the early reports, he would only be arriving now had he been in the nearest sector."
"I told him," Marka admitted, "I've been in contact with him for some time."
The sudden crack was like a controlled explosion, certainly it felt like one to Marka cheek. He only just managed to stay upright, eyes watering from the pain of not only the slap; but the sudden extra weight on his injured knee. With his premonition sense, he could have stopped it, he chose not to.
"How dare you keep that from me," she exclaimed, "Do you know how long I've been waiting for word on him? For five years, nothing. Then, out of the blue, a message comes from him to go to some unknown sector to rescue rebellious Sith. I do it without any hesitation, and still no sign of him." Bastila seemed on the verge of tears. "And then I see you!
"You, who have the face of the one who fills my dreams; the love of my life; the father of my child. To add further irony, you're married to my half-sister!" she gave a slightly demented laugh, "I suppose it proves that we have similar taste in men. But you'd met with my beloved, you'd even trained with him. And you had no idea where he was. All that I got from that misadventure was a near copy of my husband, and the dubious pleasure of watching him happy with another woman.
"I don't think you'll ever fully comprehend it's been for me, watching you with her. While I'm struggling to deal with my misery day by day, you're happy. In my heart, I know you're not him, but my eyes keep playing tricks on me. The number of times that I saw you, and for a split-second I was convinced he had come back to me," she stopped, then added spitefully, "Those ugly scars did make it easier, as did the knowledge that he was friendlier, kinder, smarter, warmer, and a true servant of the light."
"And now I find that you've been in contact with him the entire time, and keeping it from me. I don't doubt for a moment that it was his idea, he was always stupidly noble like this. There's no way you'd have done anything like this to protect me, you're not like that. I'm amazed that you were even able to pull off the simple deception, I didn't know you were that intelligent. You are a disgrace to the Jedi, a traitor to your own people. We need you now for your skills, but I guarantee you, as soon as this war is over…"
"Bastila, that's enough!" said Lorn sharply.
Marka meanwhile stood silently enduring her tirade of abuse.
"You're one to talk," Bastila snarled, turning on Lorn, "ex-Imperial, traitorous captain. Another who will be discarded as soon as the we win."
"We could be," Lorn admitted, "That was the chance we took when we chose to betray our people. I understand that you are angry right now, but I urge you to seriously consider your words at the moment. I have something to tell both of you that will likely make you regret what you just said for the rest of your life, don't compound it."
"Why, what's happened?" said Marka. For some reason a sense of anxiety filled him, he was certain what he was about to hear was terrible news.
Lorn sighed, "I will tell, but first we must go over the battle. I fear you will not be in a mood to discuss it after." The sadness in the older man's grey eyes was intense, Marka and Bastila exchanged a worried glance.
According to Lorn, they had destroyed in the region of 6500 enemy ships, for the loss of just 873 of their own, although another thousand needed major repairs and most of the remaining fleet needed at least some. The ground forces hadn't fared so well, especially since Marka had left. They had left around 15000 enemy dead and taken 11000 captive for the loss of 6915 and another 12000 wounded. It had been a close call there, just over 4000 Republic soldiers had been left that were fighting fit. They would most likely had lost the battle had the enemy not realised that, with the space battle being lost above them, they were in danger of being stranded; and ran.
With Marka's kills taken into account, they had accounted for nine of the enemy phantoms. There might have been more, those were just the confirmed kills. Out of the Jedi Marka had sent into battle, two were dead and three in a critical condition, including Kaah Ohtok. The twi-lek Jedi master had been given a fifty-fifty chance of living. The Telos academy had lost 17 of its experienced Jedi, 89 of its guards and 51 initiates and padawans. The commandoes who had come to save them had lost more than half their number, dead or wounded, but had taken down far more than their number of enemies.
"It could have been better," Lorn concluded, "But all in all, a resounding victory."
Marka had to agree. Now that he had at least partially recovered from his humiliating defeat by Korgul, he could appreciate their overall victory. He himself had slaughtered 51 enemy soldiers, destroyed four mechs; killing five men in the process; and slain four phantoms. Sixty lives had been extinguished by his hand in a few hours of fighting, tens of thousands more by the soldiers under his command. He took no pleasure from it, but felt no remorse either. It had been necessary, and should it ever be necessary again he would no more shirk from his responsibility to defend the Republic than he had shirked today. Still, the loss of twenty experienced Jedi was a serious blow, they only had about 500 of them; three quarters being ex-Sith that had followed him out of the Empire.
"Battle Meditation played a large role," said Bastila.
"It did," agreed Lorn, and when Marka asked he explained how she had used it to influence the army initially, and then moved it to the fleet. Even her padawans had helped.
Marka was fascinated, he had never heard of a Force-technique that could influence entire armies. It was a proven fact that Force-users leading troops would make them perform far better than they would have otherwise, but that was on a much smaller scale. Even in the Sith Empire they'd had nothing like it. It gave Marka hope, they had a powerful weapon that the Sith did not. And with Bastila training apprentices, every one of their larger battle-fleets could be covered by its influence by the time war broke out.
"There is one more thing," said Lorn, "Just before we engaged the first enemy fleet, a fighter hyperspaced in right in front of them, one of ours. I tried warn them, but it was too late. They were shot down, no survivors, and with all the wreckage after the battle it is highly unlikely that we will even be able to find any remains."
"Exactly how is this important," said Marka frowning, "Such misfortunes happen in battle. Are you that desperate to stall telling me whatever bad news you have?"
Lorn's next statement would shatter him. "Marka, the pilot, it was Kaya!"
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Telos, Fleet HQ
Carth Onasi opened his bleary eyes. The first thing that caught his eye was the empty bottle of Correlian whiskey, and the used glass lying on its side next to it. He had been sleeping across his desk, scrunching up important military documents that required his signature. His stomach heaved, Carth covered his mouth and rushed to the nearby restroom.
Afterwards, as he was rinsing the sour taste out his mouth, Carth caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked like death warmed up, his face haggard from months of stress and drinking; and pale from weeks without the sun. Deep bags were firmly entrenched under his bloodshot brown eyes. His dark hair was greasy and trussed about, his normally neat beard surrounded in stubble. Only his uniform looked respectable, if a little creased from being slept in.
"What was the reason this time?" he asked his reflection. Why had he gotten drunk while an important battle was being fought? He'd intoxicated himself on regular occasions since his promotion to Grand Admiral, but never before at a time when his presence might have been needed. He could remember vividly the pain of his meeting with Dustil, the anger at having to deal with Lorn again, and the frustration as him and Marka had taken charge of the entire operation. Not to mention the constant loneliness of his position. They seemed like poor excuses, even to him.
"You have a problem," he told his reflection, and splashed cold water on his face. Then he started to clean himself up.
Carth was combing his hair slowly when his soldiers instincts came to him, and he froze. Something was definitely wrong. Exiting the bathroom, he moved back to his desk and pulled out his utility belt. It was the same one that he had used during his missions with Jake Oneiro (Revan), and still had the two Mandalorian-styled blasters attached. He hadn't used it in years, but had always kept it handy as an extra personal security. Then he checked the security panel.
At first glance, nothing seemed to be wrong, there were no breaches in security; no alarms had been tripped. All of the guards were alive, and none had reported anything unusual. But on closer inspection, the two guards in his sector's heart rates were unnaturally slow, as though they had been drugged or knocked unconscious. Carth switched on the silent alarm - nothing happened. He tried the intercom, still nothing. Frantically he tried all of the security fail-safe's, not one worked. Carth's heart was hammering against his chest, there could be no doubt, somebody was trying to assassinate him.
It wasn't the first time it had happened, but it was the first time someone had managed to get past the extensive security system. Whoever it was, they were very good, the system had been designed to catch even the best bounty hunters and assassins. Carth quivered with nervous excitement, his hangover forgotten, it felt good to be in a life or death situation again. He had never really been cut out for office work.
He moved into the dark passage, both pistols in hand, senses tuned for the slightest hint of movement. Slowly he stepped, quietly he moved down the passage, the only noise the dull click of his boots against the metal floor. Realising that his approach could be heard, Carth pulled them off quickly, making sure that he did so silently and with one armed hand always ready. Then he carried on walking in his socks.
The corner of his eye caught the hint of movement, he swivelled, and everything happened at once. There was a snap-hiss, a flash of white light, and a burning sensation. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground. He had tried to cry out when he had gone down, but all that had come out was a gurgle. He couldn't breathe, staring down he saw why, there was a deep gash in his body slicing the lower ribs. He could not inhale, air was escaping from his lungs. Carth tried to raise his pistols, only to find that both arms had been severed, just above the elbow.
This cannot be happening, this must be a bad dream! Carth thought as he watched his attacker materialise out of thin air in front of him. Most of his body was shrouded in shadow, but for some reason his eyes were apparent. They were both terrifying and mesmerizing at once, red as blood. Carth's lungs burned as though they were on fire, he could not breathe, he could not speak.
His killer looked down on him pitilessly as he drew a sword from behind his head. Then Carth was flying through the air, he hit the wall and bounced off, striking the floor an instant later. The pain was gone, there was just a curious lightness. Was that his body lying over there?
Why was the dark passage getting even darker?
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