Dark Redemption - Chapter Two: The Sith Lord

DISCLAIMER: Most or all of the characters depicted in this writing belong to LucasArts and the respective developers of the Knights of the Old Republic Series. I acknowledge their rights and ownership of these properties and admit that I don't own nothin.'

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The sun of Coruscant's system shone brightly, a radiant midday painted by artists that towered into the sky. Places of pleasure and business stretching down further than the Force would allow anyone to feel, and towering like hollow metallic giants, mirroring a warmth and buzz of life, and yet, reflecting a cold artificial existence. It was far from the perfect home for him. The gentle hush of the great fountains of the Jedi Academy, recently re-opened, calmed him as he turned away from the window and strolled down the massive chamber.

Bao-Dur thought of Telos. The lush, vast expanses of the Restoration Zones poured through his mind as he closed his eyes, the sound of the fountains radiating a euphoric hum one could lose himself in. The great green fields, mountains and hills strewn across the backdrop, the sun piercing through thin clouds and the cool breeze passing through every fiber of his being; that was home.

But this is now, he thought, clearing it from his mind.

Republic Soldiers, attendants, Historians and Scientists moved busily through the corridors of the Academy, transporting Jedi artifacts, materials and other more menial items into the Academy. The Republic's best slicers were at work unsealing the Academy's lower levels where the Jedi Masters Archives and the Order's most precious treasures had been locked away when the Jedi went into hiding. Atton insisted on taking charge of course, and who was to argue the skills of a Jedi? Apparently, everyone on the slicer team, after a few days of his 'help.'

Having finally accepted his fate, Bao-Dur now sported traditional brown Jedi robes draped over standard white clothing, but still felt awkward when anyone else acknowledged the fact. He became a little more irritated every time a Republic official, wandering the corridor like a busy maid, asked him, 'Where should this go Master Jedi? What am I to now Master Jedi? Hey! You can read minds, right? Tell him I don't cheat at Pazaak!'

Wait, that last one was Atton too.

The Five Disciples of the Last of the Jedi, Bao-Dur, Atton Rand, Visas Marr, Brianna Kae and Mira (who firmly refused to be anything but just Mira) had all settled down at last. Oddly enough, Atton Rand, the Scoundrel who couldn't stop running, was the first one to settle. Only months after the final death of their leader at Malachor, he had come to Coruscant to try to persuade the Senate into re-opening the Academy.

After a year and a half, and the eventual arrival of all of the few Jedi but Mira, the Senate conceded to the Wisdom of these new Jedi, and ordered the Academy re-opened. Mira had only come weeks ago, no doubt most affected by Malachor among the group, though sometimes he wondered about the other women. They were the types who would suffer in silence if only to avoid a fuss.

But it gave Bao-Dur great hope to hear of Telos, how the dying world was recovering, and how others were benefiting from its success. It was the only world the Exile had not deemed expendable, and had showed this by helping the Ithorians. No, then he was not the Exile, then he was Salo Kurn. Bao-Dur, unlike the others, knew Salo Kurn, if only a little. The Exile was someone completely different, and even now he lay dead at the heart of Malachor, an even darker figure in his place.

At least it remains there.

Done with his isolation and musings, he moved to the great walkway overlooking the Academy's large, taupe-colored social Chamber. The great pillars were humbling to see, and even more so was his friend Atton, who was, as always, arguing with some Republic official.

'I'm not sure I understand Master Jedi,' the blonde haired young man said sheepishly.

'Oh you don't do you? I saw that tin can wheeling in and out of those Archives, I swear it. Someone let him in! It's either that, or you can admit to me that some trash compactor on wheels is a better slicer than anyone in the Republic!'

'Beet de deet!'

'Really? Well, I could fetch a hydrospanner, we could tear that little head of yours off and find out maybe?'

'Dwooo! Deet bet deep!'

'I am not having this debate again, I will call it a 'head' as much as I like, and you'll live with it.'

Any moment Bao-Dur expected it turn into a cheesy Holovid comedy show, with HK-47 chiming in on the many ways to dismember the little astromech droid and Brianna over-literalizing; scolding Atton for being so barbaric. This made him smile, and he wondered what Mira would add to it when she arrived. She had been around for about a few weeks, yes, but had not yet visited the Academy.

'Master Jedi,' the Republic official (a Historian from the looks of his uniform) cut in, 'I understand your frustrations with the...droid...however; I can assure you that either slicer teams or guards have been at or around the sealed Archives at all times. We would be quite aware of any breach of security.'

'Yeah?' said Atton with his usual snappy tone, 'well I know who he used to wheel around for, and I wouldn't be surprised if she had the Codes put somewhere in there. Why don't we just find out...yeaow!' T3-M4 had jumped forward and hit Atton with a stun arm right in the leg. The Scoundrel and Jedi collapsed to the floor, leg twitching.

'Beet de dweet dee!' T3-M4 chimed happily, rolling away, leaving his victim shouting obscenities after him. The droid, who had finally let on to Atton's strong dislike for him some time ago, made a note of 'assisting' the grouchy Scoundrel wherever he was needed. The only thing that kept him from Atton fashioning a new suit of armor out of him was Brianna's strong affection for the little droid. She treated him like a pet or a small child, albeit a very mechanical and handy one. Though they would joke about it, everyone was quite sure that that innocent relationship was the only thing keeping her from falling off the edge of depressed madness. So T3 would stay. As for HK, he was kept around, as he was a very handy doorman and guard for the Academy. Though it was unsatisfying for the assassin droid, he managed to entertain himself by intimidating every Republic official he could find, more often than not, at Atton's request. As a result, the Scoundrel grew to be HK's favorite 'meatbag,' and was the only person he would take orders from. This had made for many interesting conflicts between HK and T3.

The only event of note concerning the Hunter Killer droid was the capture of an HK-50, whom the sadistic 47 took great pleasure in torturing and interrogating. Though he could never find the location of the HK-50's construction, he did manage to download some programming upgrades to his system. Bao-Dur still remembered when HK had come to him demanding upgrades as a result of this.

'Irritated Statement: Oh, and you see nothing wrong with my disgusting red pigmentation, marred with corrosion, and my salvage-quality, substandard frame, you walking, sloshing, horned bloodsack?!'

Bao-Dur agreed to upgrade him, but not without threatening to install the gentlest Pacifist package he could find into him if he ever threatened him like that again, or commenting on his use of insults other than "meatbag." Though he refused to call himself an HK-50, HK-47 looked exactly like one; smooth grey exterior and glowing blue eyes, not to mention quicker reflexes and stronger physical and sensory capabilities. A few times he had even heard him call Republic guards 'organics.' However, pointing out such a fact was dangerous, so he let the droid be. Goto, they had simply destroyed before leaving Malachor, and the Remote still waited there, emulating Bao-Dur's hope that the General would return. Clearing nostalgic thoughts from his head, he approached Atton and offered him a hand up.

'Don't worry,' Bao-Dur said with a laugh, 'I'm sure you and the walking death machine can install some more non-folding kickstands on him later. You'll get even.'

'Master Jedi,' the Republic Historian said to Bao-Dur, 'there is something I would speak to you about if you would allow it.' Bao-Dur nodded.

'It is about you and your Jedi companions. I know what the Senate has decided, but I cannot help but wonder....you said you've had limited training, and from a Master who is now passed on to the Force. How can an Academy be established without properly trained Masters?'

'Well, kid, we certainly couldn't do it without Jedi in the first place could we?' Atton snapped. Bao thought on this, and replied.

'It can't, really. I believe it will be years before we will take on students. First we have to get the Archives open and complete our own training. In the mean time, we have to set up a training infrastructure and long-term planning for future students. It's a gamble, all of it, but it is one we must take.'

'Ah, I see...thank you...' the Historian said with disappointed resignation.

'Is there something more?'

'It is just...I care for the Order, you see. I wish to see them succeed, but, after so many mistakes made by wiser Masters, I can't help but wonder if History will simply repeat itself in a very short interval.'

'It is a risk we take, yes, and there is always the danger of the Dark Side. But I cannot honestly stand by from the sidelines and believe that the Galaxy would be safer without a new Jedi Order. And so, we must try.'

The Historian nodded and turned to leave.

'Say, don't I recognize you from somewhere?' Atton asked genuinely.

'Perhaps, I expect you meet many in your travels though.'

'No, I know you...yeah! You're that Jedi fanboy from Dantooine aren't you! M..Mason..Maddy..Michael...Mical! Yeah that was it. What are you doing here anyway? I mean after what happened to...' Atton trailed off, realizing the mistake of bringing up the subject.

So that's where the uncertainty stems from Bao-Dur thought.

The Exile had handed Dantooine to the Mercenaries on a platter, and the entire planet was now as much a haven for smugglers and criminals as Nar Shaddaa. Mical left in a quiet huff, trying to avoid all eye contact. Bao-Dur dismissed Atton and walked after him. The Historian gruffly took notice of him and turned back to face him.

'Look, I know...I know you know who we are. Things happened. Do you ....do you remember the one we traveled with?' Mical nodded.

'He...he fell to the Dark Side. I suppose we were too proud to notice we had done the same. You must understand, the reason why he was so interested in Force Bonds, is because he makes them so naturally. When he fought, we did so too, when he killed, we killed alongside him. It was like a trance.'

The Historian looked less angry, and showed puzzled interest. Bao-Dur continued.

'There's no way I can apologize for what I have done, but the real reason I came back here, the real cause behind all of this, is the fact that I need to do something to make up for it. I still have penance to perform for what I did in the War, and then that happened to me. I have much to atone for, and I promised myself I'd do what I could to when the last shreds of my former leader left us at the heart of Malachor. You have to understand, we were entranced like beasts. There's no way you can understand, but I beg you to nonetheless.'

Mical nodded, looking worried.

'So the Exile...this leader of yours, he is dead then?'

'Yes.'

'Curious. And you mentioned Malachor? That is where he died?'

'Y-yes...why?'

Mical wore a worried expression. Hidden and subtle, but still apparent to one such as Bao-Dur who had seen too many worried days for anyone.

'But you had said he left you. You never mentioned his passing.'

His eyes widened. Perhaps the young man was Force Sensitive; Bao-Dur felt naked and exposed. A small jabbing inside his mind made him twitch. It had to be the Force.

'Just this morning, I overheard a group of Republic Infantry CO's who were passing through talk about a report that had come from a freighter on the Outer Rim. Now apparently it was passing through the region just beyond the old site of Peragus II. The unstable gravitational forces in the region make for a very perilous trip, and the freighter passed by Malachor V's system, hoping to dodge the anomaly of old Peragus.'

From down the walkway, Atton had overheard, his interest caught.

'According to the reports, Malachor was acting strangely. Plumes of green gasses were seen emitting from a select spot on the planet. I did a little research for myself, and I found out that the spot described was the location where a large number of ships had been dragged down into when the Mass Shadow Generator was used; a place where they could be retrieved.'

Bao-Dur's stomach churned. He doubted any return of The General, and became horrified at the prospect of the one who took his place returning. The one he had traveled with, or someone even worse.

'The records said it was called a Gravity Well.'

* * * * * *

The Citadel Station hung over Telos; a massive blanket of composite alloys harboring spaceports, trading arenas and residential cities floating above the planet. Though re-colonization of the planet was well under way, many from off-world who had become comfortable there in the post-war years had put pressure on the Telosian Councils to establish permanent civilian centers on the Station. Already there was word that the citizens of the Station were going to organize in favor of gaining their own seat in the Senate separate of Telos. The TSF, with help of the Republic, had become the most organized, well-trained and well-equipped security force bestowed upon any single planet in the Republic. As a result, Smuggling and Illegal Operations were minimal and very hard to access on Citadel Station, making it safe and appealing to live on.

In fact, many former criminals found legitimate business opportunities as a result of the loose trade laws imposed on Telos. These laws were in the interest of sympathy, as Telos had virtually no economy after the Jedi Civil War. Now, it was one of the most well off planets in the Galaxy, especially so on the Station, with a standard of living paralleled only on planets such as Coruscant and Alderaan. The ability to trade Spices had made many rich and produced many jobs, and the fact that so much barren land was left sitting unused meant that heavy industry had a great deal of room to establish itself (though technology had to be developed to shield factories from the corrosive atmosphere over the barren areas). Along with a rich crop of land used for farming juma leaf, the planet and its Station became a very wealthy place. The only disadvantage was that the Telosian people and their foreign counterparts who had settled on or around the world were jumpy as hell.

After the Sith bombardment during the Jedi Civil War and the devastating Sith attack on the Station about two years ago from Darth Nihilus' scavenger fleet, the Telosians and Citadelians (as they came to be known) weren't taking any chances. Any and all cargo was inspected thoroughly, there were severe restrictions for those with major criminal offences (even some minor), and punishments for infractions of most laws were hefty, ranging from massive fines to lengthy jail terms.

So it was shocking to the honorable, well-respected and sometimes arrogant TSF that a ship landed cloaked in an empty hangar without coming up on any instruments, without reporting its purpose and destination or sending proper docking codes.

'Lieutenant! LIEUTENANT!' bellowed an officer. A man in a uniform different than that of all the other officers in the room dashed down the ramp leading up to the hangar's viewing platform.

'Where the hell did this come from?!' barked the Lieutenant.

The rectangular ship had the look of a transport freighter; two engine thrusters attached to the back of both sides of the ship.

'What's on there?!'

'Scans are indicating no life forms, Lieutenant.'

'Alright, search the ship. If this is someone's idea of a prank, we need to get that navigational computer cracked and find out where this thing was launched. Officer First Class Tamar, get all your men in full environment and combat gear.'

'Yes sir!'

Scurrying about as gizka panicking around a shiny object, the officers busily went about preparing for any possible threat or attack.

'This ship looks like it just flew through a battle,' the Lieutenant noted.

No one could deny their skill, but there was a good reason why they were known as the best. A full platoon of TSF officers were ready in full combat gear in less than two minutes, armored enough to fight a ground campaign. Wary and nervous, the officers moved into position at the back of the ship.

'Set the charge!'

An officer moved to lay an electromagnetic detonator, but the exit ramp lowered on its own, in suspicious anticipation of the platoon. The troops cleared and waited, taking their cue to move in upon the setting of the ramp on the hangar's cold metal surface. Worried, but prepared to face the risk, the TSF officers converged on the ships as quietly and professionally as a full team of high-rank assassins. Quickly filling the narrow corridor, the Lieutenant at the head of the group spotted the ship's pilot. A humanoid form, cloaked in full black robes, on both knees, was facing the front of the ship. No threat or announcement of the law would accomplish any objective, instead, the Lieutenant slowly reached for his belt.

Crimson Fire crackled and spat over the intruder's head as the Neural Shock line the Lieutenant tossed was broken in two by a Lightsaber, glowing redder than a laigrek's eye. The figure rose and dashed forward with startling speed, motioning with its hand. Suddenly, the entire platoon was pushed back by an invisible Force. The Lieutenant bolted up, only to see crackling, shocking bolts of light flying towards him. Everything went Black.

* * * * * *

Admiral Carth Onasi was home. Well, almost. The Station had been the only place he had ever had the time to visit during his few off days, but in the more recent years, the time he had available had increased substantially. The Republic had calmed itself well enough to let its military finally have some rest; the Sith attack on the Station had startled it greatly, and even with mountains of evidence, the paranoid citizens of the Republic, still feeling the shocks of war, refused to believe the Sith attack was an isolated incident. The soldiers of the Jedi Civil War had been rewarded greatly, and at long last were feeling the benefits. The Admiral's new office and quarters, at his disposal anytime he wanted, resembled a Coruscant penthouse in size. The Ithorians, no longer held back by Czerka (thanks to the intervention of the Citadelian Council), had re-located their entire effort to the planet's surface.

Then-Lieutenant Dol Grenn offered the Admiral their old compound as a home away from the fleet, for whenever he needed a break. Grenn, thanks to his efforts during the attack two years ago, had moved on to become Overseer of a training Academy for special ops Republic ground forces, specializing in guerilla warfare and counter-warfare. It was a title he always deserved; he only needed notoriety to grasp it. And so the past two years had been quiet for the frontier pilot-at-heart, which is why the summons from the Doorman came as a surprise this evening.

No one liked to disturb the weary Admiral.

'Someone is here to see you Admiral Onasi, he is safe to see. I will send him in.' reported the doorman. Carth took a seat at a table and waited for the figure to enter, noting that the doorman had not asked him whether or not to send the visitor in, but rather, seemed convinced of the visitors intentions. After nearly a full minute, a cloaked, hooded figure entered into the main chamber, seriously unnerving the old space dog. It sat with a cool air about it, as if it were little more than a specter, forcing itself into a position as to appear sitting; for appearances sake.

'Admiral Carth Onasi' came the deep voice.

'It's been too long. To what do I owe the pleasure?' he replied sincerely.

'It has been some time. I have been away. I returned from what I believed to be my final destination up until very recently, and I thought that after all you had done for me, I owed you an answer.'

'To what question?' The air became tense. Whether it was the figure's power, slowly protruding into his mind as to make it so, or whether his intuition was serving him was anyone's guess, but somehow, he knew what was coming. No force power was needed.

'Revan....the question of Revan.' The Admiral sat upright, more intrigued than intimidated.

'So it is you, Exile,' he sighed. 'What have you come to tell me?'

'I found nothing of Revan at Malachor, Admiral. This, I regret to inform you. I imagine it is hard to hear after all this time,' the once-Exile paused, and painfully continued 'but I assure you, I did....search.' Carth looked like he had just been wounded. Salo felt emulating from him exactly what he felt in his own heart the day he had heard those haunting words.

'You were -- afraid.'

'I..I thank you..for..telling me. I don't know if it's what I wanted to hear but,' Carth heaved, 'It's what needed to be said. And at least you're still around. After everything I heard I...'

'Forget everything you have heard Admiral,' Salo interrupted, 'Forget I came here. You did not see me, and I will depart now.' He rose and moved towards the door.

'That's it? No formal goodbye, not even a handshake? I'm disappointed in you.'

Salo turned to face the Admiral.

'How...'

'You think after all those years I'd have no protection against petty little parlor tricks like that? Pfft, you didn't even try to hide your hand waving. Give me more credit than that will you? You Jedi always look down on us non-Force types, but I've killed my share of Sith back in the day.'

'Sith? Now, Admiral, aren't we being a bit hasty?'

'Oh, no, Exile...I don't think we are,' Carth's voice turned cold as he rose slowly, 'Don't think it hadn't occurred to me that the destruction of Malachor would somehow be linked to your return. And don't think that I hadn't spoken to your companions at length about you. They say you're not even the Exile anymore. They say, you're something even Darker.'

In a flash, the Sith Lord, the once-Exile, lunged at Carth. But the old Admiral had learned a few tricks from traveling with Jedi, and the Force Inhibition Band he whipped forward wrapped itself around the attacker tight, bringing him to the floor. Salo suddenly felt deaf, the Force gone from his mind. He felt empty, hollow.... Exiled.

For that alone I will destroy the fool.

The feeling alone enraged him beyond all belief, another mockery compounded upon a life mired with tragedy and grief. For so long Salo, the Exile, the Sith Lord, had not been able to feel himself; only the Force, the siphon he was. Now he felt nothing. He would kill him a thousand times for this insult.

'And don't you dare think that I didn't find out about what happened in the hangar,' Carth snapped, reaching for his comlink. 'This is Admiral Carth Onasi confirming the sighting. Alert all discussed parties immediately and get three full platoons prepared for the highest-class military escort. We have him, here at my quarters'

Carth kneeled down to face him.

'I know who you have returned for, Exile. I know who you hunt. The question of Revan is one you intend to answer.... I can feel it in your voice. And know that nothing will save you if you try to answer it the way you intend to. Nothing will save you from me, Exile.'

'Know...say you? You speak as if you are wiser than you are, fool! You mock me with your very words. The words she once spoke. Know...KNOW! Know that for this insult I will kill you a thousand times! I may feel nothing, but you will feel worse than that when I am done with you, Admiral. Know that not even madness will save you when you feel as empty as I do, when I take your life and make it mine, when your are nothing but a shell so devoid of the Force of Life itself that echoes will cast out. Know this Onasi!' the tied and bound Sith Lord spat.

Carth was taken aback by the ferocity and strength of the threat. He felt almost afraid.

'They were right. You're not even the Exile anymore. You're something...worse.' Carth felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him, leaning against the wall.

'I have only recognized who I am, Admiral,' the Sith Lord said, much calmer. 'I am no longer in denial about who I am or my purpose. Everyone denies, everyone faces their anger, and then, at last, we all come to terms with what we are. I have accepted it, and I accept my final task. Then, and only then, will I rest.'

'If, then, you have accepted who you are, what you are, and responsibility for it, why do you still hunt those who you cast blame upon?' The question should've enraged the Sith Lord, but instead, hit him like a hammer. His breathing slowed as he gradually became calmer.

'Because... Carth,' he said, sounding human for the first time since he arrived, 'that is who I am, and nothing will change it. I have accepted it.' The Sith Lord rose from the floor, and to Carth's horror, snapped off the Inhibitor Band, and coolly approached the Admiral.

'Do you feel that Carth? The emptiness, the cold? That is what I am, that is who I have become, and I no longer fight or deny it. I am a wound in the Force, I am that in which all life dies.' Carth stared, horrified, into the dark slit across the Arkanian Blinders the Sith Lord wore.

'A Force Inhibitor Band relies on negatively charged Midichlorians, but even those can be absorbed by a powerful siphon. You are now, no doubt, feeling the effect of this wound. Though, i regret that I cannot end you now. Your call was well timed, and so I must depart.' He turned towards the door and then turned to Carth again, replacing the hood above his head.

'Though, I must thank you. I had already acknowledged who I was before my departure, but now, because of you, I believe I truly feel it. What my friends, my -- former allies -- told you; they were right. I am something Darker. I am a Sith Lord, Carth Onasi, and now I finally realize it. It has been two years since I cast away the title of Exile, and since then I have been a once-Exile, sitting upon a red heart, listening to echoes, visions and madness. At long last I take my new title. Though title may not dictate our actions, our actions can bestow upon us our titles, surely one...such...as you...knows this, Admiral.' The Sith Lord gazed at him, as if trying to pierce his very soul with it, then turned to the door and left. The Admiral felt the gaze succeed. He slumped to the floor, cold and afraid.

* * * * * *

On Coruscant, in the dead of the night, Mira woke again. A cold sweat beating down her face, she had had enough. This dream was too real. The time for denial was over. It was him; he was back. She quickly dressed herself in a full Jedi outfit -- without stopping to comment on it for the first time -- and left for the Academy. No speeder could go quick enough for her, and the journey to the new Academy felt like a journey of years.

It was him, she thought. That was that Republic Admiral. That was his ship. That was Telos. He's back. He's back...he's back... she repeated in her head. It was the only constant in her thoughts now, and kept her from losing focus. At last she docked in the Academy's visitor hangar, which was currently packed full of light Republic vehicles.

Bolting through the Academy's luminous corridors like an escaped mental patient, she frantically cast her mind out, looking for any of her old friends.

There you are. Finding a Force sensitive, she took a left and headed for the Great Walkway, spotting, at last, Bao-Dur and Brianna (accompanied by T3-M4) chatting casually. They turned to her with surprised smiles, but they quickly faded when she reached them. Panting, she tried to speak.

'I...I...had...a...vision...'

Brianna Kae, the former Handmaiden, helped her to the ground where Mira sat, recuperating from her frantic dash.

'It warms my heart to see you, but what is this you speak of? Your mind is troubled.' Bao-Dur knelt down next to them.

'It's...him,' Mira panted. Their eyes widened. They know who she spoke of.

'He's...back...I saw him on...'

'Hey! There's trouble! Listen up!' Atton yelled as he dashed onto the walkway. The three rose to face him, Mira latching onto Brianna's arm.

'I just got a message from the TSF, they reported a disturbance there that someone wanted us to know about. And then, that Admiral called, the one that was there during the attack. Admiral Onasi called in person.' Atton's vision panned across the three Jedi. 'He told me that the Exile is dead. He told me...The Sith Lord has arrived.'