Star Wars and all information pertaining to it is the property of Lucasarts Ltd. Knights of the Old Republic is the joint property of BioWare Co. and of Obsidian Entertainment. The short story both preceding and following this disclaimer is an unauthorized piece, spawned from my own imagination. As such, the plot and any original characters are the property of the author. Any money made from this story is against the consent of the author, who is not receiving one thin dime.
Chapter 7
The band of Jedi was making its way towards a large black dome. Even more Sith were fighting for their lives to defend the temple, even hanging off the doorways of standing stones hurling rocks. Every one of them perished, and the small army entered the fortress unobstructed.
The room was dark, spherical, large. Statues lined the wall in every direction. Some were recognizable, like the Sith Lords of old, but most had no easily identifiable likeness. Many figures stood in the room, besides Revan and the Jedi. Maleficus knelt in the center, facing away from them. Taral stood to his side, slightly behind. Surrounding the Sith duo, facing the motionless Jedi, were large numbers of both Massassi warriors and Kissai priests; approximately one of each for every Jedi. The Council, Revan, and Norkos adopted battle stances; not a single one of the Sith moved.
"Greetings Revan." The voice was harsh and cruel, but it came from no breathing creature within the temple. The statue directly across from the entrance, of Marka Ragnos, glowed briefly with a reddish light; the spirit of the ancient Sith lord flew from it. Similar glows emanated from the other statues, releasing the spirits of Tulak Hord, Naga Sadow, Ludo Kressh, Freedon Nadd, and others.
Revan looked among the figures worriedly. They reminded him of the spirit of Ajunta Pall he had once encountered, but there was something terribly dark about them. "You cannot win Revan." Maleficus' voice drifted up from the Sith Lord's position on the floor. "I am commanded by the Great Sith Lords; their combined might is unstoppable."
"The defeat of your Jedi is inevitable." Another ancient Lord said; he was a Rakata. "We will feast on the flesh of your greatest warriors, dine on the brains of your greatest thinkers, and the Sith will take their rightful place as masters of all Creation." The Rakata brandished his sword in a sign of triumph.
Revan rolled his eyes. "Talk about your clichés." He muttered to his team. They chuckled.
The spirit of Freedon Nadd fired a barrage of shots from his bronze-surfaced blaster towards the Jedi. Many of them instinctually parried them with their lightsabers, but the shots passed right through them without causing any harm. "SILENCE!" The ghost roared, his anger doubled by the lack of effect caused by his blaster. "Maleficus, destroy them!" Immediately, many things happened. The spirits returned to their statues, except for Naga Sadow. The remaining apparition began chanting lowly in the ancient Sith language. The Massassi began to grow, becoming behemoths compared to their former size. And the corporeal Sith turned on the Jedi.
"Watch the Kissai, the robed ones." He told his team. "Their Sith magic could very well overwhelm you if you aren't careful." Each other member of the Jedi strike team was focused on a pair of Sith, one Massassi and one Kissai; The fights were hardly even, but the Jedi managed well enough. Revan, on the other hand, had his eyes on a bigger prize: Taral.
The two swordsmen circled each other slowly, wary to attack. A Kissai flew past, impaling itself on the outstretched sword of a Verpine Sith's statue, and the calm broke. Both sentients flew at each other, sabers and staff clashing in a battle of supremacy. Revan stabbed, Taral parried; Taral swiped, Revan ducked; Revan slashed, Taral dodged. The cycle continued. Although Revan had considerably greater finesse them the clumsy reptilian, he was outmatched in sheer strength. Taral's strong downward slashes weakened his arms ever more with each impact, until he was all but overwhelmed. He could feel his guard dropping, leaving an opening for a well-placed thrust to finish him off, but an image swam before his eyes.
Far in the distance, so far he could barely make it out, he could see the memory of his duel on board Maleficus' Corsair. He could plainly see Bastila writhing away from the wounds caused, however indirectly, by him. He could see every drop of blood fall to the ground in agonizingly slow motion, and it made him mad. Where before the light was guiding his actions, the dark took over. His limbs found new strength, his joints more speed, and the tide began to turn. His face, as blank as the mask he had worn when still he went by 'Darth,' looked onto the Hysalrian apprentice as his arms renewed their furious vigour. He could feel the dark taint begin to stain his flesh, but the light within him gave fresh colour to his skin. And, when he had finally subdued his enemy, it was the light that determined he was too dangerous to remain alive. A quick slice, and Taral's four-eyed head rolled away from its body.
Oblivious to the sounds of battle around him, Revan turned to the Dark Lord. Maleficus had not moved during the entire fight, but he moved now. He rose slowly and steadily, his many feet easily topping Revan's. Two long, slender handles found their way into the scaled hands; four crimson blades erupted, and they fought. It was more than just a battle of good over evil. Both of these combatants had, at one point in their lives, been the greatest Sith Lords of their time. All other battles ceased, and Jedi and Sith alike looked in awe at the furious clash of their greatest warriors.
Revan managed to hold his own for a long time, longer than any other had survived against the Dark Lord, but not even the Dark side of the Force can sustain a being in such levels of physical exertion forever. Revan's actions began to slow, his form became sloppy over the passing hours, while Maleficus' well-rested muscles kept him tough and limber. The smaller battles had recommenced, but neither leaders heard them. The two of them were encased in their own world apart from everything else, where the only things that existed were each other. Finally, it became all too much for Revan. One misaligned slash left his lower defences open, and Maleficus claimed first blood in the form of Revan's right leg. The former Sith Lord fell to the ground, unable to support himself, and a crimson blade found its place over his heart. Blue eyes met yellow, and Revan knew he was going to die. The only thing he regretted was not being able to spend his last moments with Bastila. It was corny, but true nonetheless.
But on this day, fortune smiled on him. A narrow shaft of yellow light slowly, carefully, penetrated the Falleen's chest a few inches below his sternum; a fatal wound. For the first time, Revan saw the Sith's face lose its calm appearances. His mouth was gaping, tongue flailing, and low gravelly tones were being emitted by his throat. In barely a moment, he was dead. The tall corpse collapsed under its own weight, revealing the pale and shivering form of Bastila Shan. She extended a quivering hand to him, and he used it to pull himself up. While his amputation was certainly painful, and provided the otherwise unnecessary dependency on another person for support, he could at least be pleased that he was not bleeding; the intense heat of Maleficus' lightsaber hat cauterized the wound a fraction of a second after inflicting it. "I thought I told you to stay out of this." He murmured into her ear, still too exhausted to form fully audible words.
She smiled slightly as she helped him limp over to where the Jedi, victorious against the Sith with no fatalities, were sitting. "Yea, yea. I don't hear you complaining." They shared another chuckle. She moved to set him down, but he stopped her with a motion of his hand.
"So? Where do we stand?" he asked the assembled Jedi. Every one of them was nursing some sort of injury, but there were no other amputations and everyone was conscious.
Mira pulled a datapad out of her ridiculously low-cut robe and scanned it. "We're looking at about eight feet of pure obsidian, possibly an obsidian hybrid of some sort. Unless you have some military grade plasma mines, this temple isn't coming down." She told him. It was not good news, until Atton of all people was hit with a stroke of brilliance.
"What about the Hawk?" He asked the group at large. None of them had an answer, so he turned to Mira. "Would the Hawk's lateral laser cannons have enough power to take out the rock?" The ex-hunter did some calculations on her datapad, them nodded solemnly. On some unseen cue, the sound of very powerful sublight engines could be heard steadily approaching. The unmistakeable noise of laser weapons firing was heard, and the ceiling of the temple was decimated. Immediately following that, a very large earthquake shook the planet's surface.
"Not that these sorts of things are my speciality, but I don't think that was good." The Quermian spoke up, unhelpfully.
Katia looked around; she had always been the most in-tune to the Force of the Council. "It feels like the temple is tied directly to the planetary core; with the stability of one threatened, the core seems to be melting." Every single person present knew what that meant. Without a core, the planet would collapse upon its own weight. The lives of the entire Jedi council, hundreds of Mandalorians, and thousands of Sith in other areas would be extinguished. Someone asked if there was any possibility of slowing the decay, at least until they could escape. Katia shook her head. "The only chance would be if one of us stayed behind. With enough concentration, they may be able to halt the process long enough for the rest of us to get away." They all looked at one another, decisions like that were never easy.
They were silent for what seemed like an eternity, though it couldn't have been more than half a minute. Each Jedi was painfully aware that the longer they put off the inevitable, the closer the planet came to complete destruction. Finally, Mira stood up with a look of determination on her face. "You guys get lost, I'll stay." They all simultaneously tried to convince the former bounty hunter not to do it, to no avail. "Come on, we all know I'm the most useless person here. Atton can fly, Katia is the best Force-user we have, Bastila has the most experience, the Quermian has the most knowledge, Mical is the only one who can heal, Revan and Norkos can fight, and Visas knows all the history." They kept it up, each receiving similar degrees of success, until she pointed out that they would be buried if they didn't leave soon. And she wasn't coming with them, whatever they said.
The eight of them reluctantly left the shaking temple, Revan supported by Bastila on one side and Atton on the other. Mira went to the centre of what was formerly a dome and sat in a meditative pose. The rumbling all but stopped. Revan was helped on board his ship, and into the Medbay bunk. Lanzhou apologized for his lack of forethought, was told it didn't matter much, and the small freighter took off. They were the last ship to leave; the Mandalorian fleet was already in orbit.
The floor of the temple began to fracture, the portion Mira sat on raising like a pedestal. She looked up at the winking lights that signified Mandalorian starships entering hyperspace, and smiled slightly to herself. In the back of her mind she heard Kreia, manipulative old witch, making a prediction. "She will live…but only for a time. Her death will occur in many years time, on a forgotten planet, saving the lives of others. But it will be her choice, and she will have no regrets." As the great pillars of stone surrounding the temple began to fall, and Mira knew the end was approaching, only one thought entered her head: "And I don't." She spoke it aloud, her soft voice reverberating as though she had shouted to the hills, before the planet's core finally melted, and every living creature on its surface ceased to exist.
In the skies above Coruscant, long before the Jedi and the Mandalorians landed on the surface of the nameless world, another battle was being fought. The Republic Naval forces were waging war against the much larger Sith fleet. The Republic was more skilled, but eventually number would consume them. Admiral Carth Onasi stood on the bridge of the Sojourn, staring listlessly at the tactical screen. The Sith was demolishing them left and right, and only a few key victories kept them from being wiped out. " Blue, red, and green squadrons, attack pattern upsilon. Red and green flanking. Engage fighters in 7-3-9. Blue, red, green commands: concentrate on the battleship in 7-4-0." He commanded his armada.
In that battle they ended up taking down an entire Sith battalion, but it cost them large casualties in the fighter squadrons and one of the command ships. No, the battle was not going well at all. If only they could destroy the Corsair. Suddenly, one of the ship's proximity sensors went off. Carth scanned the tactical display. Incredible numbers of heavily armed, and heavily modified, transport ships were coming in. "Unidentified transports: this is Republic Capital ship Sojourn. You are ordered to deactivate your weapons and await inspection." One of the soldiers at the bridge computers instructed the fleet. She was a new recruit; Carth didn't even know her name yet.
A very familiar voice coming from the speaker made the Admiral's head turn. "Sorry Sojourn, love to help you but I think those uglies on your other side are going to tear you to pieces if we don't lend a hand." Carth walked over to the console and waved the soldier away. She saluted smartly, still a greenhorn private.
"Mission? Is that you kid?" He asked the ship that had responded. In the background he could hear the unmistakeable sound of laughing Wookiees.
The girl's voice was chuckling just as hard, and Carth couldn't help joining in. "Carth! How're you doing old man?" Mission returned. He told her the situation, and her voice grew solemn. "Don't worry about anything anymore; the Hidden Beks are behind you all the way!" There was a brief scuffling on the other end, and another old friend said hello. Zaalbar's roars declared that the services of Rwookrrorro were also at the service of the Republic fleet. Much as he would have loved to catch up with old friends, they all had more important matters to attend to. He returned to the tactical screen, doing his best to keep as many ships in one piece as he could, while Missions fleet of Wookiees and gang members docked at the giant Corsair in the middle.
Time passed at an agonizing rate. The Republic managed to stave off total annihilation, but it was a close thing. Hours later, with the fleet down to approximately thirty percent, he received another transmission from the Twi'lek and her fleet. "Pull your guys back Carth, that baby's gonna blow!" The Admiral immediately called for a full tactical retreat. The fighters docked in their command ships, which in turn docked in the capital ships, which turned one hundred and eighty degrees around and made a micro-jump just to the edge of the system. A long algorithmic string of an unrecognizable Wookie dialect was broadcast from the head of the Taris fleet, towards the Corsair.
For a long moment, maybe only the duration from heartbeat to heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, a blinding flare lit up the sky for miles. It was compounded by the glow that symbolized strain being placed on Coruscant's planetary shield. The shield soon shimmered and died, but only moments after the flash dissipated. When the crew of the Sojourn had blinked the spots from there eyes, the Sith invasion fleet was no more. The sounds of jubilant celebration filled the ship, both from her crew and over the comm channels from other ships.
Carth transferred the feed from Mission's transport to his personal line. "Well kid," He chuckled into the microphone, "I never though I'd say this to you, but you did good." They shared a laugh. She countered him by calling him old-timer, and that he knew loved her. The laughter died down. "Thanks." He told her, seriously.
He could sense her nodding. "Anytime. Consider it payback for saving my hide from the Taris bombing." They talked a bit more, and Carth brought up Revan's return. "You're kidding me? He's back? Geez, I hope Bastila gave him hell." He assured her that yes, she did, but they seemed to be getting along much better the last time he had seen them. And not in the way she would no doubt perceive it as. "Spoilsport." She huffed at him. "I'm sure they're getting much better acquainted as we speak." He had to concede the point.
As it happens, Mission and Carth were very much wrong. Revan was finding himself on the bunk in his own Medbay, being examined by Mical while Bastila looked on. After a reasonably long stretch of time, the Jedi healer pronounced his diagnosis. "I'm afraid I can't re-grow the limb through the Force, not even with the combined willpower of every Jedi on this ship. You'll have to wait until we get to Coruscant to have a cybernetic limb fitted." He told them, packing away the instruments he had used to analyse the cut before leaving to assist other wounded Jedi.
Revan sidled over on the bunk, and patted the newly-created space with a grin. Bastila obligingly came over and lay down beside him, careful not to disturb the stump that had formerly been his leg. They just lay there, holding each other, each basking in the warmth of the other's presence. It was comforting, after all that had happened, to lie with one another and be at peace. They lay still and silent for many hours, finally drifting off into peaceable slumber.
And there you have it, the end of the action. One more chapter is guaranteed, and we'll see about any others then.
R&R, even so near the end