A/N: Thanks for waiting kids! It's done, all twelve of you who waited. A very special thanks to Martienne for betaing this! Seriously, she is awesome! Go read her stories...like now!
There it was. His goal was in sight. The massive academy's entrance, carved from precious marble and obsidian and infused with all that was evil in the galaxy, loomed over him like a tomb over a grave. Bao-Dur was no fool; he knew what the risks were. He knew the likelihood of his safe return would be little, if at all. No, he knew he was walking into his own tomb. Yet, he was at peace with himself. The reasons for doing this would, hopefully, help the one he sought to realize her error.
As he strode, ever confident toward the door, several cloaked assassins revealed themselves. He moved into a defensive position, hand on his saber, waiting for the attack. None came. Instead, they bowed. Stunned, he cautiously moved through the twin columns of blacked souls kneeling before him. As he neared the door, it opened with a silent rush of cold, stagnant air assaulting his face. He entered, slowly growing uneasy of his decision. As he moved through the foyer, he saw no one. Not a soul could be found, either with his physical senses or his Force-given ones.
A glint of something dark and mysterious caught his eye. At the end of the hall was a pyramid. A simple pyramid at first glance, but if one were to take a longer look, they would notice disturbing details etched into its surface. Carved into the strange object were multiple symbols unreadable to the Iridonian. These symbols, though incomprehensible, still emanated a powerful sense of anger and hate. More lines and engravings could be seen all around the other-worldly artifact, none of them comforting. Yet still, it called for him. A slight whisper could be heard, like a light prodding. An almost silent goading to reach out and touch the increasingly enticing relic. Bao-Dur was no stranger to temptation. He had surrendered himself to it during the Mandalorian Wars, and vowed never to let it reign victorious over him again. Yet now, with the pressures of the Sith academy and the mysterious pull this artifact had over him, against his better judgment, he reached out and touched.
The feeling was unparalleled. Never before had he felt this much malice and resentment course through his veins. He felt as though he wanted to destroy the entire galaxy, crush all life. But soon, the feeling subsided. He began to feel lightheaded, woozy. This was more than just a relic of the old Sith...it was a holocron, able to comprehend his intentions and twist him into its own bidding. It fueled his forgotten rage and broke him down through it, leaving him defenseless. He was weak, and in that weakness, he faltered. His grip on reality was slipping fast as the holocron continued to suck his life from him. His knees shook, his mind fading, his body giving up. He failed. He failed her. He could only hope that she would find a way to prevail. He fell to his knees, and collapsed.
He gave his final breath to her, "I'm sorry, General. I failed you."
His bones cracking as he walked, he stopped and stood over the alien beneath him. Gazing at the pile of weakness before him, Lord Sion gave a disgruntled growl before reaching down and tossing the unconscious tech over his shoulder. He turned from the evil artifact and moved toward the door.
"Why you were spared, I do not know. Yet you will soon face a far more devious threat, alien," the dark lord muttered as he began his descent into the planet's core.
He awoke to the smell of a gas. The same gas that had befouled him on the planet's surface. Slowly opening his eyes, he picked himself up off the floor. Feeling relatively intact, aside from the dull ache in the back of his head, he concluded that he was not meant to die from the holocron. Instead, he must have been knocked out for easier transportation to...wherever he was. The shaft he was in was amazingly huge. It went on for miles, both upward and downward. The massive platform he was on, covered in red mosaic and carved from marble seemed to hold itself up with its single pillar underneath. What caught his attention, however, was the old woman sitting in the middle of the platform. Clothed in a black garb demanding the respect of a Sith lord, was Kreia...Dark Lord of the Sith.
"It is impolite to stare, alien," she said, showing but an ounce of her strength to detect the Iridonian.
Bao-Dur took an uneasy step closer, if only to hear her better. "Why did you let me live?"
"Because you are special? Because you dared to venture to this shattered world on your own? Or perhaps it's simply that I wish to speak with you," still sitting in her meditation stance, the Sith waited for his retort.
"What could you wish to speak to me about? You betrayed us, led the Sith to Telos!" He moved closer to the Sith, forgoing his early caution.
"Did I truly betray you? Did I give myself to you as a teacher? Did I surrender my very life to you? No, I did not. I betrayed the Exile." Removing her hood, Lord Traya stood from her position on the floor.
"You lied to her! You tricked her into giving her trust to you, and you nearly ended her!" Enraged at the old woman's defiance, Bao-Dur got within striking distance of the old witch.
Barely suppressing her now rising rage at the disrespectful alien before her, Darth Traya did her best to veil her malice before replying. "Yes, I did nearly kill her. Yet now she is stronger for it. When I led her into the enclave, I did it to wipe out what remained of a corrupt and distasteful order of self proclaimed, 'do-gooders'. Their hypocrisy was their downfall; I merely accomplished what they began. She was a pawn, yes, but even so, she saved many more lives as a pawn than she would have as a leader." Pausing to gain control of the steadily increasing hate of the kind before her, she chose a much more passive route. "Tell me, how many died above this world when she ordered that horrid weapon to fire? Hm? How many dead soldiers, Mandalorian and Republic alike, orbit this graveyard? Answer me that!"
He could not retort. There was no justifiable defense to her words. To claim what he had done was in self defense would be a lie. To claim it was an act of hatred and malice would admit his own defeat, something he would never do. He instead chose the only correct path, the one that may not gain him victory, but would allow his conscience to rest at ease.
"I created the ultimate weapon here. I used the single most devastating device ever crafted by mortal hands. I admit I killed hundreds of thousands of people here, I ADMIT it! But still, I sought forgiveness for my transgressions." He paused, gathering himself before continuing his final stand. "I ended one war and began another that day. That guilt will forever stay with me. However, instead of letting the guilt and anger consume me, I fought it with restoring the worlds that were ravaged by our hands!"
She eyed him, noticing his resolve hardening. "You speak the truth, Iridonian. You have helped the planet Telos greatly. Even the one I sent there will not undo the work you and Habat's herd have done. You are indeed like her. Always seeking ways to mend and cure that which is broken." Her neutral face turned to one of disgust. "It truly sickens me!"
"Do not talk of her like that! You have no right!" Taking his saber in his hand, he tried to rush her. Though it was short lived as a blast of Force energy hit him, sending him flying into the arch behind him.
Taking time in her approach, Lord Traya settled to taunt the poor man. "You came here, seeking answers for that which you already know. Why? Did you think yourself so high that you could best me in a battle of the minds? If so, then you are a fool." She grasped him with an invisible hand, lifting him into the air. "Do you not think I know why you are here, murderer? You came for her sake, like you always do. But you cannot save her, for she has been lost. You know this, yet you still dare to face me knowing what I am. Why?"
Grasping at his neck in a futile attempt to breathe, he thrashed as he replied. "Because you are her weakness. She cares for you, even after all that you've done to her. To us." His voice became weaker as his lungs began to slow. "If I can make you see her like I do, then perhaps she may be saved."
Sneering at the alien, she increased the pressure. "Fool! I am Sith! You seek to convince me to spare her because I care for her?"
Nearly dead now, his thrashing ceased as he resigned himself to his fate. "I came here...to save her...I believe...I've done just that." With that, his eyes closed, his heart stopped, and his life ceased.
With a malice-filled glare, Lord Traya flung the corpse of the dead man's body over the platform and into the abyss below. As she calmed herself, she realized the alien was right. She did care for the Exile. Traya's heart would be her downfall, as was the Iridonian's. Calming herself further, she returned to her meditation, hoping to gain some control back from her sudden revelation. But it would be fruitless and she knew it. All she had now was the hope of the exile showing mercy to an old woman whose mind was more filled with treachery, than it was with compassion.
She parried another blow from the Dark Lord. With a wave of her hand, the Exile let loose a flood of energy, hoping to drain the Sith of his depleting power. It was in vain, as Lord Nihlus rose and blasted her two companions down the long and decrepit bridge. Though not very strong in a duel, Lord Nihlus made up for it with Force-enhanced speed. Taking a swing at the former general, he succeeded in forcing her to the ground. Landing very ungracefully on her back, the Exile stared up at the crimson saber pointed at her head. Then she felt it. A snap. The snap of a person, a living being. It took only a matter of seconds for her to realize who it was. The missing mechanic was lost. Her friend, Bao-Dur, was dead. Her mind told her to stay focused, but her heart felt heavy with remorse for her fallen friend.
Her mind, not capable of following her actions, was in utter awe of what she had done. Feeling the remorse lasted only seconds, the anger that broke through her trained heart lasted much longer. Kicking the Dark Lord in his knees, she rolled from his reach and grabbed Mandalore's long blade. As Nihlus recovered, he moved his saber to a more defensive position to help deflect the enraged woman swinging her sword in chaotic and powerful manner. As he retreated backwards, he was soon at the edge of the destroyed bridge's hull. Taking the fraction of a second to recognize this fact, the Exile swung and removed the Sith's arm. As the piece of robe that held what remained of his meta-physical body fell to the floor, the Exile let loose even more slashes across his body. Tearing the garment to shreds, she discarded the sword and blasted the Sith with arc after arc of lightning. This went on for several minutes before she threw the corpse of the Sith across the bridge and onto the floor. Her friends, now recovered, stood in awe and slight trepidation of their leader.
Visas stared at the body of her former master, now fearful of her new one. "By the Force."
Mandalore stood in a quiet reserve of his fellow warrior, proud that she was finally starting to follow Revan's example. "That'll show the bastard."
Meanwhile, the Exile stood at the bridge, staring out at the ongoing battle. It was similar to when she ordered him to fire the Mass Shadow Generator, only he was not at her side anymore. He never would be. She knew who did it, and she was intent on seeing the old woman's body being torn to bits, just like the former Lord Nihlus. Her rage persisted, before she felt an unnatural calm come over her. She did not know what it was, or why it happened, only that it felt familiar. Replacing her fallen mental and emotional shields, she turned to face her friends...her family. She didn't know how she would deal with his loss, but one thing was clear. She would not end Kreia out of hate or vengeance, but because she must. For the sake of the Force. She walked back to her friends, turning when she thought she heard something, only to dismiss it as her imagination.
The ghost of Bao-Dur stood, watching his friend, his general, leave the dead ship. As she boarded her shuttle he spoke once more before departing to whatever awaited for him. "I died for you, General. I hope it will be worth it."