Dark Redemption - Chapter Three: The Grunt and the Huntress

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 (cept what i made up).

---

Strolling into the hangar with the air of a cocky adolescent, The Sith Lord quickly analyzed the scenario. TSF and various other security forces from around the Station were scurrying about frantically. They had no doubt searched the ship and found the uncrackable navicomputer. This made him grin. Many were moving about with some form of worried purpose, making calls, preparing for combat or doing something with the ship. From what he could tell, everything was still in working order. The intrusion upon the hangar had only occurred a third of a standard hour ago, so the panicked forces would not yet be fully aware of the situation. Though he didn't doubt that a large force was already receiving information from the Admiral, having arrived almost immediately after their confrontation, The Sith Lord knew escape was still possible.

Realizing stealth was a better way to get aboard the ship than slaughter; he sulkingly left his advanced stealth field active. Walking briskly and unnoticed through the teams of officers, he arrived on the still opened ship to discover two of the TSF still snooping around. Like a cat, he prowled closer to one, until he was in whispering distance. Gently waving his hand, he spoke.

'They probably need you outside, you two should go.'

'Hey, uh, Dav, they probably need us outside, we should go.' Lightly bickering on their way out, they jumped as the exit ramp slammed shut behind them, and the entire hangar burst into frenzied panic as the ship began taking off. The Sith Lord had the ship drop a group of concussion grenades, and fired a single blast from the sub-cockpit cannon directly into the viewing platform.

'So much for stealth,' he declared with sadistic glee. But at least this way they wouldn't know the identity of the attacker. Firing another shot into the center of the hangar on its way out, the small, rectangular freighter exited the station. He knew that if he was to avoid a deadly fighter onslaught, he would have to make the early and dangerous jump to hyperspace. Strapping in, he engaged the hyperdrive, re-checked the astrogation charts, and made the jump. In less than two minutes, The Sith Lord Salo Kurn had escaped out from under the nose of the most well guarded spaceport in the Republic.

---

Mira twitched. It was a regular occurrence for her. Though neither she nor her Jedi friends could accurately tell what happened to her or how it had happened, they had all agreed that she had some type of Force Bond with their old leader. How such a strong bond could have been formed years after Malachor and so deeply affect her was a mystery.

'Something troubles you now?' asked Visas. Mira focused her eyesight and looked over to the Miraluka, sitting next to her in the back of the transport. It was a small shuttle, piloted by Bao-Dur, with Atton stubbornly refusing to be anything less then the Co-Pilot. He glanced back upon hearing the question.

'No, just...it's just taking some getting used to.' Atton turned his attention back to the astrogation charts. They had left for Citadel Station immediately after receiving calls from both the TSF and Carth Onasi one after another. The TSF had reported some kind of disturbance, but the Admiral had clarified it. No Force sensitivity was needed to feel the fear and dread apparent in all of the Jedi aboard the shuttle. All of them felt it, all except the calm, reserved, Visas Marr; ex-apprentice of Darth Nihilus.

'But you have been motioning in that manner since we left. If this is a bond as we believe it is, it may be indicating something.' Bao-Dur, hearing this, announced,

'I'll call ahead to the station.' Visas continued.

'But there is more. You must have something to say about how this affects you. It cannot be easy. We all remember what happened when we left Malachor...you were affected most. Please, you only hurt yourself by burying feelings.' Mira felt a bit intruded on, but realized that she was right.

'It's...not easy. That's all. After all this time...I mean, what am I supposed to say? That this shocks me, hurts me? We all know that. For a room full of Jedi who can feel my every exposed outpouring, you sure ask a lot of questions,' she said, followed by a sigh. 'They say he's back and he's worse. I don't know what you're looking for here girl, but all I can tell you is that....some pains stay on for a long time, but there's a place where they have to rest. Now, it refuses to rest. That's how I feel about, and I won't say any more.'

'But, this must mean something more. You....'

'I will not!' she bellowed, pausing to read the startled reactions of her friends. '..say anymore.' The shuttle fell quiet.

'Perhaps,' Visas site bitingly, 'We will speak more when you realize that you are not the only one who cares.' Bao-Dur announced their arrival.

'Dropping out of hyperspace now.'

The red-maned huntress glanced at the floor and quivered.

---

With the ship well on its way through Hyperspace, The Sith Lord removed the safety devices from his pilot's chair, and stood to stretch. Removing his Arkanian Blinders for the first time since his departure from Malachor the previous night, he felt weary. It was welcoming that he felt some sign of physical existence, having been confined to madness and sharp pains in his mind for so long. He threw back his hood and moved towards the ship's narrow midsection, where he set down his Lightsaber on a Workbench and prepared to finish upgrading it.

Quickly motioning, he picked it up and unsheathed it as a vibroblade came swinging down at him. There was no time to think, only fight. The figure, dressed in the uniform of a TSF grunt and wearing a full helmet moved quickly and with furious purpose. The attacker, though requiring little physical strain to fight on The Sith Lord's part, was bold and decisive, and even managed to anticipate some of his attacks.

The battle was furious, and The Sith Lord restrained his powers in order to test the limits of this opponent.

'You're holding back,' came the voice from under the helmet, before laying down a Power Attack, missing by inches.

'And you're over-estimating.'

The Sith Lord laid into the attacker with a vicious Flurry, searing the orange and white armor in several spots across the chest and stomach, before kicking its wearer to the ground with a strong blow to the chin. Tired of the charade, he summoned the Vibroblade to him with the Force, sheathed his Lightsaber and replaced it in his belt.

'If you will destroy me then do it slowly you twisted fool! I will not beg for any mercy or quick death!'

He could feel the rage swelling within his opponent.

'I would not insult your abilities or your resolve by asking you to. You must be very confident in your abilities to attempt such a stunt,' he hissed with his deep voice. Reaching out with the Force, he tried to feel the attacker's...the young attacker's mind. Gently probing, he closed his eyes and felt every fiber of the young one's mind, searching. Finding only trivial pieces of information, he moved to dig deeper. Suddenly, a flash, and his eyes opened. He had been repelled.

Chuckling darkly, he extended a hand and helped the grunt up. He handed over the vibroblade, drew his saber, and motioned for them to continue. The grunt seemed confused, but intrigued, and accepted the invitation. The battle was as furious as their first, but seemed more organized. With the frantic hysteria of bewilderment and the automatic survival reactions seceding, the battle became a motion of art; attack, counter-attack, action and reaction. It flowed like a mildly viscous liquid, pouring down elegantly, but taking its time, increasing the anticipation of the result and the consequence.

As the battle took place, The Sith Lord took the opportunity to attempt to probe the mind of his opponent further, while defenses would be easier to penetrate. He knew that the being was Force Sensitive for a fact now, though he could find no traces of formal training. Though his attacker was now calmer and more concise, he could still feel hatred simmering through ever fiber of its being. Directed at him? Yes...but...no. Something else lay buried beneath the surface. He moved to see deeper...and then, a flash of light. The Sith Lord was once again repelled, and the attacker gained its chance from his distracted state, knocking him to the floor with a swift blow directed at his head with the blunt end of the vibroblade. Clasping him by the neck, choking him on the floor, the cold lifeless reflection of the helmet stared back at him. Slowly ending him. Regaining his strength, he clasped the attacker's arm, and fed visions into its head. Images of War, Death and inconceivable horror transmitted across their minds. The young grunt saw Malachor, saw the slave crew of the Ravager, and saw....vividly....the blazing eyes of The Sith Lord, engrained upon the mind like searing coals.

Recovered, he threw the grunt away from him, taking the Vibroblade once again. Angry, yet more intrigued by this figure still, admiring its tenacity and surprising ability, he spoke.

'I thought you would overestimate,' he chided.

The figure, visibly weakened by the visions, pulled off its helmet. A young, pale, peach-colored face emerged. Beginning with a narrow forehead, thin nose and mouth, and ending in flowing, purple strands of hair, she looked up at him with bulging, innocent eyes, yet tainted with fury.

'I thought you would hold back.'

---

'And that's...pretty well everything that happened,' said an exasperated Carth Onasi. Bao-Dur and Atton sat across from him, with the other three standing in various places in the room. Mira was the farthest, kneeling on a select spot of floor, brushing it wit her hand. Carth knew what she had found.

'Find something?' asked Bao-Dur.

'Something happened here. Something left a strong imprint,' Mira said weakly. The other four turned to Carth. Looking resigned, he explained.

'Like I said, he came after me and I managed to stop him with the Inhibitor. That's where he fell. He became...angry. Furious....he called it an insult. Seemed particularly moody about the whole thing.'

'Well, taking the Force from a Jedi is the cruel equivalent of castration,' chided Atton. Carth snorted.

'He's no Jedi. But it did rattle him quite a bit.'

'Of course it would,' said Visas' misty voice. 'For too long he has felt only the Force. Take it away and what do you have? Only an empty shell, devoid of feeling. I can only imagine the suffering one must encounter when they can only draw on the life of others, when they have nothing of themselves. But even one such as he does not deserve to have it all taken away. Not anyone....not like that.' The room fell silent, save for Mira still stroking the floor.

'Can you feel anything?' Bao-Dur asked. Mira looked down at it, and fell into a hypnotic state. She saw visions and flashes....dark robes... a saber drawing....a black figure crashing to the floor.

'Know that not even madness will save you...' she heard in her head. It was his voice. Her hand found the source of the anger imprinted into the room and she followed it, entranced. '...when you feel as empty as I do...', she continued reaching, '...when I take your life and make it mine..' she was moving frantically now, following it away from the table, '...when your are nothing but a shell so devoid of the Force of Life itself that echoes will cast out.' Mira opened her eyes and found herself staring at a spot of floor near the west wall of the chamber.

'This is where the strongest imprint was left. This,' she said decisively, tapping the spot on the floor, 'is where the big thing happened.' They all turned back to Carth again, and he shrugged.

'I told you everything that went on, what more do you want?'

'A better ship? Ow!' Brianna slapped Atton over the head.

'You don't have the Hawk anymore?' Carth asked with concern.

'Oh we still have it,' said Bao-Dur, as if responding to a parent concerning a child, 'we just don't use it much anymore...at all. It's probably for the best, especially now.'

Mira was still over by the wall. Brianna left the others and sat next to her.

'Do you feel anything else?' she asked, sounding as worried as Mira felt.

'It's not even him anymore you know. It's not even the Exile. Bao-Dur was always saying we left someone even worse than that person at Malachor, and that's whose back now. I can feel it. Can't you? The mark is so strong...' she trailed off, sounding misty.

Brianna reached down to feel, and her hand snapped away as if she had been shocked. Suddenly feeling cold, she wrapped the grey Jedi robes of Arren Kae, her mother, tightly around herself, and reached again. She saw everything that happened, from The Sith Lord ascending from the floor to his leaving; fully and vividly. Mira looked surprised when Brianna withdrew her hand.

'What? What did you see?' The former Handmaiden looked fearful, eyes wide.

'E-everything.'

After a few more minutes of conversation they prepared to leave. Once at their shuttle in a very secure (thanks to the security breach) hangar, Carth summoned Bao-Dur once more, leaving the rest to get on board.

'Look, I know this is your friend and your business, but I have a stake in this too.' Behind them, Brianna exited out of the shuttle again, curious.

'What do you mean?' the puzzled Bao-Dur asked.

'This Exile..this...Sith Lord...he's bad news. He's going after people, innocent people. Somehow he believes I am relevant to it. I can't exactly explain it but...I have to help somehow. Look, there are a couple of things left to take care of around here, but then I'm coming to Coruscant and we're finding him.'

'That's awfully demanding of you, Admiral,' snapped Bao-Dur, rather offended. 'I don't know what makes you think you have the legal or moral authority to supercede Jedi business -- personal Jedi business at that -- but this is our case, our trouble.'

'Look, you don't understand...' Carth sounded strained.

'No, you don't understand! This is more painful for us than you can imagine. You can't begin to fathom what it's like to see that monster running around, our good friend trapped inside. It hurts like a full sized speeder pierced through your gut, and then some. I'm not even sure if we're ready to go looking for him. So there will be no demands, there will be no threats and you will not bother us again!' Brianna walked over to the two.

'He should help,' she said, rather boldly.

'What? What makes you say that?'

'He says he has a stake in this...he is right. He deserves to help us. In that room, he didn't tell us everything he should have. The one he returned to hunt.' Bao-Dur turned to Carth with a stern expression still upon his face. Carth sighed and conceded.

'It's Revan, Master Jedi. He came back...to hunt Revan.'

---

'Arise, but do not attack me again.' The Sith Lord sheathed and belted his Lightsaber, as well as the girl's vibroblade, turning back to double-check the astrogation charts.

'Smart to leave your back turned?' The Sith Lord snorted.

'If my eyes were ripped from my head by a hungry cannok, I would still see farther and deeper than you ever will, my dear. I do not need to look upon your face to see you, nor feel you.'

The girl scoffed.

He sat down at the chair and worked at the pilot's console for several minutes. The girl became both increasingly curious and irritated.

'So what, I'm supposed to just wait her for your next stop so you can toss me off the exit ramp?'

'I have tolerated your presence for the moment, and for the moment it will remain as such. You may sit at one of the tables, have food or drink or keep yourself busy in any way you deem fit. But do not test me nor irritate me or you will see that brief flash of compassion ignite into a fury once again.' He turned to her.

'That is something you would not wish on yourself, I can assure you that.' He turned back to the console. Though she was now quite unsure of the man's motivations, she took it as a truce for the moment, and rose. Moving quietly to the back of the ship, she took off her armor, feeling more mobile in her casual TSF uniform. Still quite nervous, but eager to get the visions he had cast out into her mind out in any way possible, she took a portable food package and a Pazaak deck from the ships midsection and sat down.

The Sith Lord, as he monitored the ship's progress, still wary of having jumped into hyperspace so suddenly, heard her counting the totals to twenty in her head. He smiled and thought of Atton, before quickly snapping back to reality and scolding himself once again.

I have no needs of such thoughts.

My thoughts are to be to focus my goal only, he thought. Gazing off into hyperspace for the longest time, he would drift away into countless visions, and focus became the least of his concerns.

She had expressed concern first. Serious worry from where he had least expected it. Seeing the Ebon Hawk around him in shades of black and grey, the Sith Lord dreamed.

'When I'm with you, it's like I can't even restrain myself. Killing becomes a reflex. It's almost like...I like it. I've seen it happen with Atton, but that's because Atton is Atton. With me, it feels different. It's like Spice...you're high and unaware, and when you come down, the world crashes around you and you realize your sin. I feel sick every time it happens. I see it when I look at your face, at mine...at all of theirs. Somehow we're changing, and I don't think it's for the better. I don't like it. I don't like it a bit. It's that witch...I swear it is...'Mira, the ice-cold bounty hunter feared death from her own hands more than she did from others.

The others saw it in time, but her intuition served her well. As surely as she saw the blood on Atton's hands, she saw it on the Exile's, even through the ecstasy that was their bond. They moved together, ravaged together, and in those moments they were one. In other moments too, though they were left unsaid. He noticed it in her, felt it in himself, though he felt affection from the other women too, only hers was genuine. Visas held for him an idealistic, innocent and pure love, like love for a father, or a God. The Handmaiden, though seemingly genuine was too much a child, a pure virgin warrior who would throw herself at the first sign of kindness. Though the purity of her soul did not last long traveling with the Exile, as they ravaged across worlds, she remained a child.

But was there anything more? He had seen her wandering the corridors of the Ebon Hawk at night, sleepless, restless on the cold ship, away from her home. And yet, he had freed her, so perhaps it was more than gratitude he had felt. The Sith Lord, the once-Exile, in his visions and dreams, knew that he could love no one more than one who would dare to save him from himself too.

Waken by a beeping from the console on the east wall; the Sith Lord brought his focus back to the present. He had not slept, yet felt a dream-like state. The ship was telling him something.

The journey is complete, he thought with sinister anticipation.

'We're dropping out of hyperspace, prepare yourself!' he bellowed back at the girl. Not bothering to check if she had prepared herself, he began to pull the small, war-torn freighter from the grips of their inconceivably fast travel. Revan would not be easy to find, but he had to start somewhere. As far as The Sith Lord figured, the best chance lay with her former pet.

---

Mira took a deep breath and opened her eyes, and for the first time since she could remember, she smiled. The other women took odd notice of this (the men were in the cockpit, wanting to avoid the situation altogether). On their way back to Coruscant to prepare for their journey and plot their next move, they were now on a medium freighter with separate rooms. After the Admiral's admission he offered them better transport as an apology and at the request of Atton of course.

'What is it?' Visas asked.

'He's...happy...' Mira replied, sounding dreamy.

'I don't under...'

'He dreamt. Visions, I don't know. I saw it too, some of it at least. It was strange, but something about it made him happy. A piece of him broke through somehow...it was brief. But, it wasn't sinister or evil, he felt pure warmth. There's something left of him.'

'The Dark Side cannot completely change anyone,' Visas added, sounding decidedly warmer. 'None are beyond redemption. He taught me that, and I...we...will remind him.' Brianna, sitting across from them, looked resigned and confused.

'What troubles you?'

'I...I felt him so strongly there, in the office. Why could I not feel this?' Mira's expression turned to bleakness, and then concern. Brianna looked over at her, eyes nearly watering. Saying nothing, she got up gently and left.

---

The planet came into sight perfectly. It was as he had remembered it. Many visions had come to him in his time as the once-Exile, and this place was no different. The Sith Lord Salo Kurn tried to think of a plan, some kind of strategy. His target no doubt would, he was possibly even expected by his target.

And so the cycle begins again. A select few stood in his way of Revan, and this was one of them. Or, with luck, they would stand with him. Or, they would break at his heels. All in the name of a good cause. Ridding the Galaxy of the last piece of the puzzle that was the Exile.

All a good cause. He replaced his Arkanian Blinders and double-checked all his personal equipment.

'We're on approach girl. There are less...specific...uniforms and combat suits in the midsection across from the workbench. Bring a blaster or two as well.'

'Who said I was coming with you?' she snapped back.

'You are not staying with my ship, but for your sake, where we're going, you'll need to be armed.' She moved up to the front of the ship and peered at their destination, quickly approaching.

'What's here that's so dangerous?' she inquired.

'You'll see,' he said with a dry laugh. Few knew about the more interesting activites occurring on this moon. The Sith Lord Salo Kurn felt the hatred swell within him, felt the anger and the pain, felt the Exile, felt the General, felt everything he was. All of the rage and the torture would be needed now, his target was a worthy opponent, and would not break or surrender readily. He stood from the chair and set the ship on autopilot. It would be several minutes before the descent. He prepared his Lightsaber and handed the girl her vibroblade. She sheathed it and continued preparing, dressed in a Bonadan suit, purple hair tied up in a bun.

'So, do you have a name?' she asked.

'What?'

'A name. I know what you are, you aren't hiding anything. All your kind have titles, you love your little pet names for yourself. What's yours...my Lord?' she finished with a laugh. He had not thought on this at all. Simply being a Sith Lord was enough. Or was it?

Our actions can bestow upon us our titles, as can our thoughts and feelings. The Sith Lord searched his feelings. He felt spite, betrayal, hatred, lust, vengeance, rage and anger. Anger at himself, anger at the Jedi, anger at every fool who just had to step in his way so he could put more blood upon his hands, more to carry on into the years of regret and decline that would end his life, or to carry on with him to the battle that would be his end, so on his deathbed he could proclaim his massive sorrow.

Anger was the only constant in it all; anger, rage and Virulence. Virulence he felt in his heart, and Virulence in what he could only slightly call emotions. He looked down at the lush, green moon that lay before him, remembering his last visit. Dxun would be even more fortified by now, and he would have to carry that Virulence with him.

'You tell me yours first,' he said with a dry rasp. Taken aback, she replied surprisingly sincerely.

'Rena. Rena Panaan. And...you?' The Sith Lord turned back to her.

'I... am Darth Virion.'