Knights of the Old Republic: Dark Forces, Chapter Seven, Part One

KNIGHTS OF THE OLD REPUBLIC

DARK FORCES CHAPTER SEVEN

PART ONE

FIVE YEARS EARLIER...

"We'll be coming out of hyperspace in about a minute," Revan said, bringing the ship's secondary engines online. "You'll get a glimpse of Malachor soon."

"It's never been something I wanted to see," Dustil Onasi murmured from his position in the co-pilots chair. "I remember when father came back from the Mandalorian Wars. The stories he told mother of Malachor... they were terrible."

"I know it," Revan said quietly, "I can't remember but... I know it. There had always been this... feeling. I lived with it for my entire life and never knew what it was. But I know now; it's guilt."

"How much can you remember?" Dustil asked quietly. Rarely did his Master tell him anything about his past life. He had always respected his silence but things were different; the pair had gone rogue. They were companions now, as opposed to student and teacher.

"It used to only be flashes," he whispered, his eyes staring off into space, "parts of my life where things overlap. I have my own memories and then I have... his," he pulled his eyes of the shimmering blue of the hyperspace route. "But... things changed after the Star Forge. Everything seems to be triggering memories. Courasant was the worst... the Jedi Temple; I thought I was going to remember it all."

"I have to know, Master, why are we coming here? What could we possibly find?"

"I don't know," Revan admitted, "there's something I need to know, something about my past life. I can't remember it, it's just beyond reach. But it's important. And I have dreamt of Malachor almost every night. Perhaps it will trigger something in my memory."

"Alright," Dustil said, getting out of his chair, "I think I'll mediate for a while, try and centre myself."

"Good idea," Revan said, turning his attention back to space, "and Dustil,"

"Yes?"

"Stop calling me master, we're well past that now."

"Yes Revan."

As Dustil left the cockpit, Revan brought his thoughts back to the present as the slight jarring of the ship told him they were leaving the hyperspace route. He quickly took the ship off autopilot and manually typed in the coordinates, hoping to make the transition smoother. In a brilliant flash of white light, the ship came out of hyperspace, and was immediately followed by the darkness of space. Yet Malachor gleamed from the darkness, floating ominously before Revan. He could feel the pull of past memories, the vague feeling of remembrance. It floated just beyond his grasp, details that he could not quite reach.

Who are you?

The harsh voice drifted through his mind, suddenly appearing from the depths of his memory. He flinched slightly before reaching deeper into his mind, using the voice to pull him in.

What are you doing here?

The words were harsh and cruel, yet there was fear in it. It had been discovered. Revan clenched his teeth, trying to go further...

You shall know pain.

A sharp burning erupted in Revan's chest. With a cry his eyes snapped open, the voice fading, the pain along with it. He collapsed into the pilot's chair, breathing heavily, trying again to reach into his mind. But the voice was gone and with it the line that would lead him back. He wearily turned on the scanner, allowing the ship to feed him information about the planet.

"Unstable atmosphere, dangerous terrain composed of mainly cliffs and wasteland." He swivelled around in his chair and called out, "HK, I need your assistance!"

Within a few minutes, the rusted assassin droid stalked wearily into the cockpit, rifle held firmly.

"Query: Is there something you need killed master?"

"Not killed, no, but I need you to incapacitate Dustil... with as little violence as possible."

HK-47's photoreceptors flashed with disappointment. "Are you entirely sure master? Would you not like me to maim him just a little?"

"No, HK, I really wouldn't," Revan said sternly, "just knock him out cold; with as little pain as possible."

"Statement: I shall do as you request master but with reluctance," HK said, glaring at Revan.

"Your reluctance is noted. Now do it."

Revan turned back to the console and waited for HK-47 to depart; the eventual fading of his clinking metal footsteps told him that he had gone.

Revan gazed ahead, "Sorry Dustil."

* * *

Revan carefully felt his way through the darkness, letting his hand run along the smooth stone wall of the corridor. The sith academy was completely dark but for the faint gleam of red light that was his only beckon. Though his eyes could see nothing of the place, he knew it well; he had seen himself, robbed and masked, walk through these corridors. If Revan trusted his own memories he felt he could have walked blind through the Sith Academy. The thought did not make him feel any more comfortable, it only added to his fear, and fear was a dangerous emotion to have in this place. He could feel waves of the darkside pulling at his fear, forcing up with it a barrage of other emotions; lust, anger, greed and rage all pulled at him. He forced it down bitterly and pushed on through the darkness. He was glad Dustil wasn't with him.

The light was growing now, a gapping red mouth in the darkness. Revan could see dark shadows, like teeth, standing out against the red light.

"This place will serve us well," an old woman's voice issued from the opening before him,"the force runs strong through these hallowed halls."

"I feel its power course within me," another voice, cracked and harsh, announced, "through my flesh, binding every molecule of my being. I feel as if it power binds my very skin."

"Take care in what you wish for, Lord Sion," the first voice commented dryly. "Much I have to teach you. We shall see if you have the strength of will to learn it."

"Yes master," Sion growled, "and what of the other one? The wraith? What do you intend to teach him?"

"He is a creature of Malachor, as are we, yet he is tied to it unlike we. His very existence depends on it. This will have to be rectified if he is to be of any use to us."

"What possible use can he be? There is no mind behind that mask; only hunger."

"His power is... unfocused, it is true," the woman responded thoughtfully, "but that can be corrected. In time he shall serve as a useful ally. And he stems from something far greater than Malachor; something that will benefit us all."

"And what is that?"

"It is not your place to know." The woman replied sharply. "You need only concern yourself with my teachings and the training of the assassins."

Revan realized he had been holding his breath for the entire exchange. He slowly exhaled and then sucked in a breath of the musty air, thinking all the while. What was going on? He had expected to find people in this place and certainly not darkside force users. Revan pushed himself forward a few steps, his hand still running along the wall. He felt a small indent in the wall and vaguely ran his fingers into; and in a flash, a memory returned.

* * *

Revan felt a small indent in the wall and ran his fingers into it before pushing along the dark corridor. The only thing he could see was the faint red light issuing from the opening before him. He pulled his torn and scorched cloak closer to him, trying to avoid making any noise as he softly reached the gapping entrance way. Sprawled out in front of him was an open platform, a red glow issuing from the rounded floor. Great curved pillars, like talons, reached up into the night, creating an obscene combination of architecture and evil. But it was the figure kneeled in the middle of the room that emitted the most evil. He cautiously gripped the lightsaber clipped to his belt.

"The Mandalorian Crusade is drawing to an end, master." The figure hissed to the darkness. Revan crept closer still, trying to see who else was in the room; it was empty but for the black robed figure. But a voice issued in response, a voice that echoed in his mind.

"As we knew it must," the voice, harsh and cold, responded, "but never did we foresee they would be so successful in their war. The Republic is weak indeed."

"As they ever have been,"

"You have done well in your task, my young apprentice. The part you have played in instigating this conflict will be rewarded."

"When will we reveal ourselves to the Jedi?" The apprentice asked eagerly. "When will we have our revenge?"

"Soon, apprentice, though not as soon as we had hoped. This Jedi, this Revan," Revan strained to listen harder at the mention of his name, "he is a threat to us. The hierarchs have foreseen he has a great part to play, for good or for ill, before this war is over."

"His is only one man," the apprentice objected

"One man can change the course of our fortunes. We have waited for millennia, and always have we cautioned patience. If we need wait for a few more years, we wait."

"Yes master."

"Remain at the Trayus Academy, and continue to relay your progress. Study this Revan; ascertain his motivation, study his methods, find a weakness. Do not fail in this task."

"Yes master."

The silence following these last words was deafening. Revan quietly clipped the saber off his belt. The figure in the middle of the room was still bowed on the floor. He stepped out onto the platform, moving as silently as his heavy combat boots would allow him. When he was within ten metres of the crouched figure, he activated the saber. Reacting instantly to the hum of the lightsaber, the figure jumped to his feet and swung around. He seemed human enough, though his skin was pale and his eyes bloody. Revan could see a blackened saber hilt hanging from his belt.

"Who are you?" The man demanded

"Who the hell are you?" Revan shot back, warily circling the stranger.

"Something you couldn't conceive," the man replied harshly. His eyes narrowed as he stared at Revan, "You have the smell of power about you."

"Or it could be my deodorant," Revan replied in a lightly, though he continued to circle the Sith.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for a holiday home..."

The pale face contorted with fury at his words. His ripped his lightsaber from his belt, and activated it with a jerk. The red blade buzzed across the empty platform, meeting the hum of Revan's own blue saber. The blades crashed into each other as the man lunged forward. Revan smoothly knocked the stroke away, driving forward his own blade at his opponent's chest. The sith apprentice dodged the attack and swung at Revan's unprotected side. Without thinking Revan called on the force and jumped backwards away from the blow. He landed lightly a few meters away from apprentice and let out a laugh; in all the battles he had fought, he had never encountered a sabre wielding opponent.

Before him, the apprentice shuddered with anger, "You think this a game?" he said angrily "You shall know pain!"

"You know, that threat gets less and less terrifying every time I hear it."

Their blades clashed again, the apprentices with more fury this time. Revan battered away his flurry of blows before delivering a powerful overhead strike. The apprentice dodged away and aimed a feinting kick at Revan's head while plunging his sword forward. Revan pulled in the force and let it shield him from the attack before pushing it out, propelling the apprentice backwards across the ground.

"I don't know about you," Revan commented, "but I'm having a hell of a time."

Screaming like a wounded kath hound, the apprentice climbed to his feet and charged at Revan, lightsaber held above his head. Revan watched carefully as the apprentice charged at him, refusing to move or even lift his saber. He fought muscle memory as the apprentice neared him. He was only a few meters away, three, two, one...

Revan stepped smartly to the side and brought his lightsaber hilt sharply down on the back of passing apprentices head; he collapsed in mid-run, his lightsaber clattering to the ground and shutting off. Revan took in a deep breath and shut off his own saber.

"They can never handle the taunting," Revan murmured

He dropped to his knees and carefully touched the man's neck. The pulse was steady; he'd be awake soon enough.

"Good," Revan said coldly "you'll be able to answer some of my questions..."

* * *

Revan let out as gasp as the memory abruptly stopped.

"No, no!" He whispered desperately as the image of the academy faded from his memory. He clenched his eyes closed, trying to follow the memory, trying to find more, but it was too late. He had no recollection of what happened after this sudden memory.

"Damn!" He murmured in anger, slamming his fist against the wall. He peered into the Trayus Core; the two Sith were still there, the woman meditating, while Sion paced restlessly about her. He had not been discovered. All he had to do was ease back to the Hawk, fast and silent and he could figure out his next move. He couldn't be caught.

He turned away from core, back toward the long corridor. A shimmering disturbance in his vision stood not two meters from him; a second later six, black clad Sith assassins materialized in front of him, having finally turned off their stealth field generators. Revan started at them for a moment.

"Damn," was all he managed to say before they overwhelmed him.

* * *

"Tell me who you are," Revan said quietly to the crumpled figure, "And what you were doing here."

"I am apart of the infinite darkness," the bleeding apprentice said weakly, "a darkness that you could not even conceive, a darkness with infinite power and vengeance."

"This infinite darkness isn't doing you to well however," Revan growled, dropping down onto his knees and pressing the point of a small viroknife into one of the bloody wound on the man's thigh. The apprentice clenched his teeth in pain.

"Statement: The violence you have imparted on this meatbags has made my behaviour core glow, master."

"Thank you, HK-22," Revan murmured, moving the knife down to the nerve cluster behind the man's knee. He turned the blade around and jammed the hilt into his knee. The apprentice groaned with pain, but still kept his mouth resolutely shut. Revan got to his feet and passed the viroblade to the droid. "It would seem, however, that my methods are not producing results. Would you like to exercise your torture protocols?"

"Statement: Oh master, that would be greatly appreciated! As you have altered the programming in my behaviour core, my goal in life is to impart violence and pain!!"

"Have your way with him then, but I want him alive," he cautioned the assassin droid, "no disintegration."

"As you wish master,"

Revan turned on his heel and left the small room. The HK-22 droid, though primitive was effective in its work. Revan had spent a few hours altering the standard Czerka Hunter-Killer droid into an effective torture device. He swept through the Trayus Academy Prison and out through doors. A pair of Republic soldiers straightened and saluted.

"I want the prisons sealed off," he said to them quietly, "no one, even General Malak, is permitted entry. If anyone tries to force entry, kill them on sight. If you allow anyone inside, I will have you both executed."

The two soldiers glanced at each other nervously before replying in unison, "Yes Sir!"

Revan continued down through the academy, weaving his way through the mass of Republic troops that were scurrying throughout the building. He moved into one of the larger rooms. A large table, covered in datapads and documents was in the centre of the room. A dozen Republic admirals and generals stood along its sides. Moving figures buzzed across a large computer display of Mandalorian space. At the head of the table a towering, shaven head man was in conversation with a Republic commander. Both looked up as he approached.

"Ahh, Revan," Malak said as soon as he approached, "it is good to see you."

"And you to my friend," Revan said, clapping Malak on the shoulder. "How goes it on the front?"

"I'm afraid I have bad news" Malak said gravely, "we engaged a Mandalorian fleet at Jaga's Cluster. Our fleet was destroyed in hours."

"What?!" Revan demanded. "We had a fleet of over two hundred ships stationed at the cluster!"

"And they had a fleet of four hundred to meet us." Malak replied defensively

"What of the Jedi!"

"There was nothing they could do."

"Of course there wasn't, there never is!" Revan hissed angrily, striding along the table. "Our forces are pathetic! We are throwing our best troops, ships and tactics at the Mandalorians and they are laughing!"

"The troops are exhausted Revan!" Malak shot back, "And they have lost every battle they have fought! They are scared beyond belief!"

"Then it is time they grew up!" Revan said harshly, "The troops and the Jedi! No longer will the two of us hold this army up by its hair!"

"What are you suggesting?"

"Make them fear us more than they fear the Mandalorians." Revan strode to the head of the table, the eyes of all the admirals and troops in the room on him. "From this day forth, the Republic will no longer tolerate failure! I do not care how tired you all are! I do not care how scared, or hungry, or wounded you are! I do not care how much your troops complain! They will fight until they can fight no more or believe me they will regret this Republic wrath! This begins today, with you," he said, glaring at the assembled admirals and generals. "And if we do not see an immediate change in our fortunes, I will hold you all personally responsible. Now get the hell out of my sight while I make plans to whip this army into shape."

The assembled men and women saluted smartly and filed out of the room. The fear on their faces was evident.

"That was a little forceful Revan." Malak cautioned lightly once the room was empty

"No," Revan disagreed, "I think it was just enough force. Too long have we paid lip service to the Republic and its rules! Too long have we scrapped and bowed to their commanders! This war would have been lost long ago if not for our intervention! It is time we took full command."

"What are you suggesting?"

"It is time we started removing these spineless incompetents," Revan said quietly, "search the fleets, the troops, the Jedi, all who have skill and all who are loyal to our reforms are about to be promoted."

"What of the admirals? And the Republic?"

"The Republic will do as I tell them!" Revan shouted.

"Very well," Malak said quietly, turning away from the table and moving toward the door.

"Have this done Malak," Revan called to him, "and have it done well."

Malak stared at him and nodded before leaving Revan alone. Revan snatched up a nearby datapad and threw it at the wall.

"Damn it!"

* * *

Revan woke suddenly. The memory had him confused and for a few moments he forgot where he was. But as the dull pain came flooding back into his body he remembered; chained in a cell. The room was pitch black, he could barely make out his manacled hands in front of his face. He could feel his own blood beginning to crust in numerous places on his body. But soon his captors would return and open up the wounds; or make new ones. He raised his head slightly to stare out of his cell window; even the stars were obscured from him. He sighed deeply and lowered himself back onto the ground. He closed his eyes and gently pushed his mind against the wall he had formed to block his bond with Bastila. For a fleeting moment he wanted to break the wall down, reach out to her and touch her mind. He longed for the comfort she could give him.

"No," he whispered, clenching his fists, "I cannot risk her. She is too important."

The door to his cell flew open. Revan immediately dropped to the ground and laid still, his eyelids lifted a fraction. The Sith Lord, Sion, marched into the room, flanked by three black robed apprentices. They took a cautious step toward him. He did not move, did not even acknowledge their presence. They moved forward again. Revan closed his eyes.

Two of them finally moved to him and hoisted him up by the arms. In one swift movement, Revan wrenched his arms free, driving his elbow into the face of the sith to his right. He screamed as blood spurted from his nose. Revan turned and grabbed the head of the man to his right. Summoning all his strength he wrenched the man's head, feeling his spinal cord snap against the pressure.

A sudden blasting sound issued through the small cell and a burst of force lightning brought his assault to a sudden stop. He collapsed onto his knees, just as a dozen more soldiers entered the room. His vision began to blur as the electricity continued to rage through his body and as the boots of the soldiers began to make contact with his face.

* * *

Revan sat casually on the large wooden table, tapping a stimulant lightly on his hand. Directly in front of him the Sith apprentice sat chained to his chair, his bloody and beaten head hanging limply to the side. His face was expressionless, his eyes vacant and almost peaceful.

"The confirmation you have given me on the Star Forge will prove valuable if you have not lied to me." Revan said as he waved the stimulant in the air, "But that last shot will not last forever. I can make the pain go away. Tell me what I really want to know... tell me who you are."

The apprentice stared at the stimulant in Revan's hands before tearing his eyes away and shaking his head weakly.

Revan sighed. "I can make the pain go away," he raised his hand in the air and brought the force to bear on the man's throat, "and as you know I can make it come back again."

The apprentice let out a garbled cough. Revan held the force against him for a few more moments before easing the pressure.

"Tell me."

The assassin shook his head weakly. Revan sighed again and turned to the black clad men clustered behind him. "I shall leave him to you. I do not expect you to make him talk, but make his living an agony."

Revan left the chamber just as the screaming began. He stalked through the Trayus Academy, carefully observing the faces of the troops around him. They immediately straightened and saluted as he passed, their eyes filled with fear. Row after row of weapons and equipment were stacked neatly against the walls, while the troops practiced sharply. In just three weeks the faces of the Republic soldiers had lost the despair and melancholy that had plagued them. Now they showed fear; fear of their officers, commanders and leaders. Though some of the new methods had been harsh, cruel and vengeful, they had had an immediate effect. The soldiers of the Republic fleet now conducted themselves with peak efficiency, for fear of immediate retribution at the hands of their commanders.

Revan entered his private quarters. Lying on a nearby table was a full suit of modified Mandalorian armor; light yet strong, the traditional blue of the Mandalorian scout armor had been embossed with black and maroon. Revan gently picked up the helmet that would enclose his entire face and stared at it. Straight, cold and emotionless the mask stared up at him. If his armies were to change, he would have to change also. It was time to stop playing the role of general and start being one. Jedi Knight Revan would no longer serve him. Slowly, he lowered the mask onto his face...

* * *

Revan felt his injured body spasm uncontrollably. His chest heaved as blood from his damaged internals forced its way up his throat. Slowly, as quietly as he was able, Revan called on the force to heal him. The crushing power of the darkside in the academy made it almost impossible to call on it to heal or protect; the academy only boosted the power to destroy.

He had no idea how many days or nights he'd spent in the academy; it felt like an eternity to him. The torture had triggered some of his darker memories to return to him and though he hated it, at least they allowed him to distract from the pain that had been inflicted on his body. He had responded to none of their methods, or any of their questions. Revan could read the fear in their faces everytime he saw them; fear of him and how much he knew and what his plans for them had been. But they had never been a part of Revan's plans; he knew they had nothing to do with the True Sith he had been searching for.

He vaguely heard the clinking of metal instruments above him; suddenly he remembered where he was. The rough bonds tying him to the table cut into his bare wrists as he tried to move his arms and legs. He could feel warm blood running down his naked body.

"Struggling will only increase the pain," Sion rasped, "but I find that your pain amuses me."

"You really are an idiot," Revan coughed, "Do you honestly think that you can force answers out of me?"

"Oh I do yes but unfortunately it will not come to that. You will fall to the darkside long before your will is broken."

"Been there, done that, don't much fancy going back."

"You will not have a choice, my deluded Jedi. This place is not just an academy; it is a tool of conversion. The power of the darkside runs through its floors and walls, through the stone, through the very air you breathe. You know nothing of its power."

"I know this place," Revan breathed, "and I am more connected to it than any of your pitiful band."

Sion laughed harshly and moved away. Revan tried to follow him with his eyes but found he was bound around the throat, holding his head firmly in place.

"And that, fool, is your mistake."

Revan could only stare at the stone ceiling. The clink of metal and the soft footsteps of his captors was all he could hear. The flickering light of flame played across the roof. The apprentices began to chant, a slow, guttural chant in hissing language that Revan was surprised to find he understood.

"Accept our humble offering," the assassins intoned, "to bring you to the flesh."

"Words and knowledge are of little value to me," Sion growled over the chanting, "But this academy holds many powers and many secrets bound in print and stone. Their teachings have brought me the knowledge to do what my master cannot."

"Accept our humble offering, partake upon his power."

Revan felt the already cool room plummet in temperature. His bare skin crawled against the sudden cold.

"Accept our humble offering; restore our master to the flesh."

"He has quite an appetite you see," Sion said quietly, "what exactly he is, I cannot say. But as I am the Lord of Pain, he is the Lord of Hunger; and these mere force adepts cannot sustain him; but you, ‘Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith'... I suspect you will be more than enough."

A single sith woman stepped forward, a small stone bowl clasped in her hand. She dipped his finger into the bowl and withdrew it. Her skin glinted with crimson. Revan instinctively flinched as the she traced her fingers along his bare chest, the smeared lines coming together to form a complicated symbol. She gave him a malicious smile and stepped out of his vision.

"Manifest him in this world, take your black power, raise him up from the ethereal."

"I want you to see this," Sion said. Revan felt the bindings on his head loosen and fall away. Desperately he wrenched his head to the side; what he saw made his stomach surge.

It floated toward him; neither solid nor transparent. The stench of death made Revan gag.

"Feast upon his power, feast upon his mind, feast upon his flesh..."

Its outline was blurred, ripped; pieces of it tore off and disappeared like shreds of smoke. Revan felt his heart beat in fear; he struggled against his other bonds.

"Take him whole..."

The thing reared up, revealing where its face should have been only a primitive, hacked out mask took its place. With a shudder, Revan realized it had been carved from a skull. He felt the vomit force its way up his throat; he didn't try to stop it as he heaved onto the table.

The white mask turned slightly, as if examining him curiously.

"Even through his dying breath..."

The spectre moved closer, within reach now. Revan could feel the darkness emanating from it; his heart pounded in fear.

"And be reborn..."

It stretched forward a ghostly hand.

I wish she was with me...