Master

Flashes of red and white were the first thing she remembered. Shrieks of the dying echoed in her ears. An astonished look on the faces of her companions. The cold metallic laugh as she slumped to the bulkhead.

As the fog about her head slowly lifted, she became aware of the unforgiving stone slab that she lay on. Her arms and feet were bound. Her muscles screamed for relief that was nowhere to be found. As she slowly regained consciousness she caught the damp, dank smell of moisture trapped underground. The stagnant air gagged her.

The young woman tried to recall what had happened. Her memory mostly conjured up pain. Images of trees and sand and water filtered through. Grassy knolls and the howls of Kath hounds hungry for blood. Finally she saw a great glowing orb with sparkling waypoints, and her thoughts crystallized.

The Star Forge! They had been searching for it throughout the galaxy. They were on their way to Korriban when their ship had been intercepted by the Leviathan. Her body began to tremble as the recent events focused. The torture chamber, and currents of energy coursing through her body. The wicked battle on the bridge when chaos reigned and she wasn't sure if she'd cut down her own allies, she was so inundated with the enemy. The flight to the Ebon Hawk, with tension crawling up her skin as she sensed a malevolent presence drawing ever closer. The feeling of helplessness as Malak confronted Jairon with his true identity. The bewildered look in his eyes as they pleaded, "Why?" when he looked at her. Finally she remembered throwing herself at the Dark Lord before he could cut Jairon down. She gave everything she had to defeat Malak, but he was just toying with her. The last thing she saw was flashes of blue-white light enveloping her.

She struggled against her bonds for a moment, but her strength was lost. The darkness of the room was interrupted by a flickering lamp on the wall. There was no opening that she could see. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus her mind. She called on the Force, but she couldn't sense anything beyond her cell. The dark energies of wherever she was engulfed her feeble attempt at breaking through. Emotions began to creep up in her mind, but she forced them back down with the discipline of a Jedi: There is no emotion, there is peace...

The first time Malak came to check on his prize prisoner, she made a show of her defiance. She jutted her chin out to reinforce her stoicism. She was a Jedi. He would try to break her with pain and torture, and to tempt her with power. This was her true test -- how she would hold up against the Sith Lord himself.

Her body racked with pain from the lightning searing her. She tried to deny him the pleasure of even crying out, but it tore into her skin and muscles. Reflexively her voice wailed. When he stopped, she gasped for air and the burning stench of her own robes and flesh sickened her. Despite this, she steeled her eyes and glared at him.

"You are strong child, but I will break you."

"I will never fall to the dark side!"

More lightning. More pain, more fire. She wondered for a moment how long she could endure, but she held her mental stand. She knew that if Jairon had escaped, he would be on Korriban continuing their mission to find the Star Forge and put an end to this war. She just had to hold on until he could strike at Malak.

"You think torture will turn me Malak? You are a fool."

"Torture? No dear Bastila, you misunderstand. This is but a taste of the dark side to whet your appetite. When you finally swear loyalty to me, it will be willingly."

What? She would not... could not do that. It went against everything she had been drilled with over years of training. "Never!"

"Such resolve in your words, but I see the truth in your heart. The dark side calls to you Bastila. You hunger to taste it. Become my apprentice, and all its power can be yours." The energy rained down on her again, and she momentarily thought that she didn't care to feel anything again, if this would only end. She reached in for an anchor of some kind. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge...

Finally he stopped. Her body went limp, and it seemed all she could do just to breathe. Short gasps were all she could manage, as anything more recreated the awful pain. She was left alone; the drip of condensation was the only sound. It seemed like hours went by before her mind conjured up anything other than being shredded by energy.

Meditate. She tried to calm herself. There will be more of the same; that much is certain. She must be prepared.

Tranquility proved hard to come by. She tried to concentrate, her face scrunching up like a Kinrath pup at times. However, it seemed whenever she came close to centering herself, residual flashes of agony shattered her order. Fatigue sapped her will, and other muses floated through her consciousness.

She wondered where Revan... or Jairon, was at the moment. A slight smile and sigh escaped. Her discipline regarding her feelings for him had been strong since Kashyyyk. Bewilderment still hit her every time she considered that she was having a girlish infatuation with the former Dark Lord of the Sith. The resolve she held her feelings in check with relented under the stress. She thought back to the wind rustling through the wroshyr trees and the melodic sounds of the teeming life in the forest. For an instant it had been a dream when she dropped her guard and actually kissed him.

A thought crept into her subconscious. He hadn't know he was Revan when their feelings were entangled. He didn't realize she had been lying to him. There was no clue that he was being used by the Council...

The Council was giving him his chance at redemption! That's what they told her when she balked at carrying on this deception. That's what she shouted at Malak when he revealed Jairon's true identity on the Leviathan. But did she mean it?

He said that he believed she did the right thing. But his body language spoke of betrayal, that despite their bond and their growing attraction, she had lied to him. He fought bravely against Malak, especially considering the distraction and emotion of the situation. What would he think of her now?

Another insinuation slipped in: how could he come back to a betrayer? He might just leave her to this fate...

NO! Her ferocity in this response surprised her. She must concentrate. It was like someone was putting thoughts in her head. Thinking about Jairon was not going to help her now. Her emotions were the last thing she needed.

Breathing came easier finally, and she settled into a rhythmic pattern to calm her nerves. There is no passion, there is serenity...

Pain! Fire! Her body racked with pain. The cold stone digging into her flesh did not even distract from the torment. He cackled mercilessly, almost a caricature of an evil overlord. The volley of energy stopped, but her body continued to seize as the current drained from her muscles. He stood watching her for a moment. She finally raised her head enough to catch his eyes. "I will never turn..."

Instead of another oratory on the power of the dark side, he simply strode behind her to the exit, pausing before he rounded the corner. "Poor Bastila. All alone. The Council has used you, and now you are here to rot. They said you were so important. Where are they now?"

Time had no meaning in the perpetual darkness here, but she felt it must have been about a week since she had been his prisoner. Her days, such as they were, consisted of lying on the cobbled slab with intermittent bouts of torture and humiliation from the Dark Lord. Occasionally a Sith trooper or two would come to loose her for a few minutes. She tried initially to resist, but she was too weak, and the guards had a little fun roughing up a "girl" Jedi. Water and food was minimal. Her own body reeked of blood and sweat, and nausea was her constant companion. If she was alone she would chant the Jedi code repeatedly to keep her mind in check. Still, she found that her concentration strayed more and more. Emotionally charged memories escaped her filter of control and confronted her repeatedly.

Images of a man and woman and little girl enjoying a rare family moment. Soon the adults began to fight, and the little girl cried for them to stop. When the woman made to discipline her, she hid behind the man's legs. More yelling, and the girl ran off to console herself behind an alien tree.

She shook her head, trying to clear the unpleasant recollection out of her way. She forced her thoughts on her Jedi training. Exercises and discipline ad nauseam. The sheer repetition of mental and physical training would keep her thoughts from wandering. Yet the instruction itself was laced with latent emotions that had been pushed deep down. She had always been a good student, and the masters desired outward adherence more than heart application more often than not. Resentment twisted in and out of her experiences as a youngling and padawan.

Faces of instructors and peers became a blur. She could recall names, but she didn't have any connection to any of them. Her skill in Battle Meditation had set her apart at a young age. Students alternated between looking up at her and feeling beneath her. Their lack of understanding made relationships difficult. The masters had fawned so much over her talent that she developed feelings of superiority that separated her from most around her.

Poor Bastila. All alone.

The words wormed their way into her. No, that was ridiculous. She had the Force. Of course the Council cared that she was a prisoner; the war made other issues more pressing. She would stand strong. She dug deep for more resolve, even as her facade developed the first signs of crumbling. There is no chaos, there is harmony...

The thoughts hurt worse than any torture now. All alone. The Council had thrust her into this suicide mission, sacrificing her for their own protection.

No, there is the greater good to think of...

Her family gave her over to strangers because she didn't fit into their plans. They couldn't give up their lifestyle in order to accommodate a little girl. They were better off without her.

No. They wanted a better life for me. It was for the best...

The former Lord of the Sith was only attracted by the Force bond between you. He was using you just like the Council was. He was only interested in himself and finding out what you knew. His words of affection were as lasting as the dunes of Tatooine.

NO. He said he cared. He said he loved me...

A Jedi is not allowed to love, or feel, or be. You are a slave. You can't even see it.

Nooo.

Her body began to shake again. Not from pain or energy, but with sobs. She was alone. She always had been. No one was there for her.

The last shreds of control fell within Bastila. She trembled with fear as the cold realization dawned on her. What would become of her? She was alone. The tears flowed, streams of regret and rejection draining her soul.

When her eyes would not surrender another drop, when the years of repression had burst forth and seared her insides more than Malak had done, a new feeling arose. Her body still quaked, but this time it was anger that moved her.

Fear leads to anger...

Footsteps. Sith troopers approached for her "care". She looked through slits, seething at these fools who dared draw near. They slipped her bonds loose to give her a moment of sanitation.

Anger leads to hate...

She slumped down, acting the part of a beaten, broken prisoner. However, her resolve surged back, fueled by dark emotions released by her fear. Something deep within tried to stand in the way. There is no emotion...

The soldiers raised her up and shoved her toward her destination. Raw power coursed through each sinew and nerve, and she twirled to face her astonished captors. The energy leapt from her fingers and stole the very essence of life from them. They shrieked louder than she ever had as their bodies contorted and fell down, dead.

Hate leads to suffering...

If she was alone, then she would rise up. If she had no one to turn to, then it was up to her to protect herself now. The dark side teased and beckoned. With that power, she would no longer be a pawn. She would not fear being alone.

A faint metallic laugh grew louder as the prisoner dashed her emotional shackles and marched off to meet her new master. Malak may be the embodiment, but fear was her ruler now. Peace is a lie! There is only passion...