Author has written 7 stories for Star Wars, Dragon Age, and Mass Effect.
UPDATES: If you haven't seen em in a while chapters 1-5 have undergone some fairly significant edits, including some new scenes and cameos. Not necessary to re-read, but there may be some added momentum.
I am hard at work (and have been for what seems like months... because it has been months) on the next update. Getting near the end there's a lot of plotlines to tie up, and a lot of, "oh, I'm gonna do this thing and it will be awesome..." and then it does not seem as awesome until I rewrite it a few times. So bear with me. I may try and get the next three or four chapters drafted before publishing, because I think that will be, roughly, the end. It has to be, because I wrote the epilogue!
Here's a preview of the next:
Chapter 67 / Killers in High Places Xxx Dessa had the children escort Jana Novasun to the small officer’s mess off of the interior bridge. It held tables and chairs--unlike the dar’jett holding cells. And it was private, which might put the old woman at ease. “You may go,” she told the young warriors, for none of them were Rialis. Being well-mannered as their mothers had taught, they obeyed without question. The blind old woman’s shoulders were frail under her hands as Dessa guided Jana Novasun into a seat and removed the helm covering her face, revealing the same features she had seen long ago in her mother’s tent--now aged beyond the years that had passed. It was, Dessa thought, as if the woman had spent a few years baking her skin next to a yellow sun without a blast visor. “What is your name?” Jana Novasun asked, as Dessa poured the Elder of Lin a glass of honey wine. The woman’s eyes narrowed at it, but she did not drink. Seeing that, Dessa did not bother to pour a glass for herself, even in pretense. “Dessa, of Clan Rialis. My father was from Clan Kozk.” “Kozk, the underclan of Lin.” Novasun nodded slowly. “I remember when both Kozk and Rialis came to my fire. You must have been one of the children, playing at our feet.” “I was not that young,” Dessa smiled, wondering what else the old woman could see. “I sat behind my mother and Headwoman Catrinex, and listened for your lies.” “Ah.” Novasun’s mouth twitched. “They were not lies. The clans had their glory.” “From what our Manda’lor has told us, your hand set Revan on her path to victory against us.” “In the abstract that is true.” Jana Novasun blinked. “More or less.” Something in her expression flickered, like a low flame set to burn. “Is that why you wear your swords on this day, Dessa of Clan Rialis? You would use them against an old woman?” “Of course not!” Dessa drew her left ur’beskad, and set it on the table. “You are not defenseless, Mother of Lin.” She got up slowly, letting her right hand rest on the hilt of the other blade. “Ah.” The woman’s white-blind eyes must have been able to see something, because they grasped the wooden hilt before Dessa led her to it. “Do you expect us to duel? With me blind and doddering and you hearty and whole?” “I am ungainly with child and you are old.” Dessa took a step backward. “Were we to fight, the battle would hold balance.” “But we are not going to duel?” The woman seemed to regain some strength as her spine straightened. “Not outside a circle. I have been ordered to ask you questions. However, if you would prefer battle instead, I can force you to take this….” Dessa pulled out the vial of truth serum from her pocket and placed it on the table. “Did Revan send you to perform this interrogation?” A slow smile crossed that lined face, as Novasun glanced at the chronometer on the wall. “A strange time for it, second shift. Most of the ship’s crew must be sleeping.” “I have been directed to ask you questions for Revan,” Dessa countered. “Will I need to force you to give me true speech, or will you accord me the respect of my underclan, and vow for only truth between us?” “And where is Revan?” the woman demanded, folding her hands over the wooden blade before her. “With her First Husband,” Dessa shrugged. “It has been some time since they have seen each other, and...” “And trust often begins with the smallest of steps.” Jana Novasun picked up the hypo and attached it to her arm with no further coercion. She did not flinch as the electro-spray needled her skin. “There. I’ve taken your truth serum. Go ahead, daughter of Rialis.” Dessa watched. The registers blinked green as the serum released. “I expected more resistance from you.” “There is no more time for lies,” the woman murmured. Then, there was a long pause as the drug began to do its work. The old woman’s lined face paled, and her breaths grew shallow before she spoke again. “Perhaps, the reason you expected objection is because you are dim a star of Rialis as your father was for Kozl.” Inwardly, Dessa smiled, for that proved the serum was working. No elder woman of the clans would ever insult a younger from a different clan--not when blades were drawn. “Why were you allied with Clan Weis?” Dessa began. “I was not allied with them.” The woman chuckled. “I led them, just as easily as I led all of your people years ago.” And that is why you are in chains now? Because you led us? But Dessa merely smiled, proud at herself for not taking the old woman's bait, and continued her interrogation. Xxx Breathe in, breathe out, Polla reminded herself, trying to ignore the way the air their cell suddenly seemed stifling, the way her skin itched from that fracking ysalamiri blood that Revan had sworn wouldn’t leave a rash, but had. “Anything?” she whispered, but Miz High and Mighty didn’t bother with a response. Not even a shoulder twitch to indicate she’d heard Polla. Polla shifted on her feet. The brick she held half-behind her back seemed a half-assed weapon to confront Tenny-Bro’s guards with, but it was all she had. Was more than Miz High and Mighty had, still dressed in just her skivs. Why hadn't Revan taken a brick too? What if their killing the ysalamiri hadn't worked? Tenny-Bro had promised them there'd be executions today-- It’s my neck on the line, here. Not hers. He likes her. All that work I did, trying to get the fracking revolution started on this godsdamned sithspawned planet-- It can't end like this! And then, just when Polla had practically given up, the lock clicked open. The flickering blue haze surrounding their cell shorted out. “Thank the gods,” she whispered. “Gods?” Revan’s red-fuzzed head turned back toward her, raising a thin eyebrow. “Thank the Force instead of your primitive deities. Beya once tried to explain the vagaries of your planet’s religious culture, but I--” “Thank you,” Polla snapped back. “It’s just an expression. Thank you and your fracking Force. Okay? Is that better?” “Of course.” The red-fuzzed head turned back toward her, frowning. “It took some time to synchronize the Force energies, but of course, I had no doubt, once we destroyed enough ysa, that their null field would collapse--” She froze suddenly, one hand motioning Polla back. The gesture was accompanied by a faint press of air, like a warning wasn’t enough for Polla Organa not to stay out of the fightlines between her and the approaching footsteps-- How many feet? Polla didn’t know. And they were there before she had a chance to figure it out. Two guardsmen, both masked. Only two. There had been three left, before. “Oh ho,” chuckled one with Tenny-bro’s echoing voice. “Starfire. What have you done?” “Restored the Force, Vitiate,” the woman said calmly. Both hands hung at her sides now, but the right one was slightly curled. “Hah! At least in this chamber.” The other guard’s voice was deeper but it had that same metallic echo. “Planning to leave, so soon? Why escape at all, my little copy--when I have arrived to escort you to the position of honor for today’s executions?” “I don't require your escort,” the woman purred back, with a lot of guts for someone unarmed in their skivs. Polla’s fingers shifted on her brick. “Perhaps she thought I would kill her,” the other guard said. “Do you know it took centuries to breed so many ysalamiri? They’re quite particular, you know.” “I do know.” Revan seemed perfectly relaxed. A smile crossed her lips. “The Senate families on Coruscant used them as well… I used to wonder if that was part of your design--or if your agents procured samples from them--” “Oh, my Starfire.” The guard shook his head, chuckling. “Honestly, I cannot recall.” He drew out a raised disc from his robe’s pockets and held it up. I have something more… ah, recent to show you.” Instead, Revan took a step back, still smiling. “No.” “She’s not wearing the gown I selected,” sighed the other guard. “It is perfection incarnate. I had hoped she’d bathe as well--” The smile on Revan’s face grew wider. “I didn’t want to soil the the gown,” she murmured. And then she launched forward at them, legs cutting out in a high kick, so fast that her movements blurred-- Now, Polla! There had supposed to have been some signal, some warning, but Revan moved so fast. So did the guards, faster than any body had a right to be moving--but all their attention was focused on the red-headed woman in her skivs and not Polla-- Now’d be the time to cut and run, she thought randomly. Instead, Polla Organa moved in closer with her brick. Xxx Valkorian adjusted the collar of his robes, the mirrors behind him mimicking their movements with a dozen different hands, all red-robed, and all prepared for sacrifice. The Zabrak body named Zepth that he was possessing here tapped the comm-link at his wrist, sending the picture he had taken on Deralia and transmitting it to the guard’s comm-link in the green cells below Zepth’s feet. The image was the holo-print of the boy, Malachor. “Perfection, incarnate,” he echoed in this body, echoing the words of the guard below. Perfection, indeed. Now, Valkorian was-- --eating a pie on Coruscant. --walking out onto a balcony to address his subjects on Thule. --smiling at the copy who had managed to shatter her chains in the Green Cells. She would attack him in a moment, but he was two, and all she had were her clumsy fists, her weakened body, her cowering companion-- --the weak Starfire was contained, for the nonce. “I have something more… ah, recent to show you,” he chuckled, waving the comm-link. And-- “Oh! That reminds me!” Zepth’s mouth exclaimed. And then, Valkorian was-- --reaching into his satchel and pulling out the antidote to a poison on-- Yes, there. --Deralia. At Bendowen and Ooka Organa’s farm. “There,” he made Gaten’s voice say brightly, as he rubbed the sleep from the man’s old eyes and picked up the poison’s antidote. “Can't wait any longer! Tut Tut!” “Perhaps I should take more holopictures,” his Zabrak body murmured to its attendants back on Kaas. Nearly all of them were also him, so they chuckled in unison. “When the boy wakes. Before the antidote? Or after?” “Before,” said a Human’s mouth standing behind Zepth. The man had a tickle in the back of his throat and it itched abominably-- --in the ruin of his finest Green Cell, the copy’s green eyes narrowed, and all of her thin muscles tensed and then she sprang forward-- “Used isaflexin, am I right?” “What?” Valkorian was rudely jolted back to Gaten’s body on Deralia. Interrupted by an utter stranger. Who? Not me--his old body froze. “Who’s there?” he tinkled querulously. “Young Master Kore? Is that you?” The voice was older, through. Not Deralian. “Put the contact poison on the masks? Noticed you made sure they all wore ‘em when you sprayed the fields.” The voice chuckled. “Nice bit of work, that one. Breaks down so fast, no evidence… very clean.” Valkorian cursed himself for choosing a null body to come to this derelict planet. But the old scavenger Gaten had been the closest contact. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he said indignantly, as he turned around to see-- --on Kaas, his first body blocked Revan's first strike, while the other moved in to flank her. The smuggler gave a startled ‘eeep’ noise, and stumbled back toward the fresher, as if that would save her. So amusing, how that little null clung to life--his first arm closed down on the copy’s arm, but she ducked under him, leg sweeping out fast enough to blur-- --he was setting up the stands, peering down at the prisoners in the cage below. Which one should be first to die? Which one? --the pie on Coruscant was exquisite. "Another," his Selkath’s voice told the vendor. “Please.” --he sketched the lesson plan on the board in front of the eager young Bothans on Bothawui Five. “Did everyone do their astro-mechanics homework?” his Duros voice inquired. “We’re having a pop quiz!” --which one of the Kaas prisoners? The youngest daughter of Blais stared back at him from a cluster of frightened peasants. Had she truly eliminated her own mother, despite the woman’s Force-controls? Remarkable tenacity. Dangerous? --Revan’s hand lashed out with a weak pulse of Force that nearly had his guard’s body overcompensating forward, expecting more resistance. “Only two bodies?” she taunted him. “You should have brought more, Vitiate.” Vitiate. She knows how I hate that name. “Aww, don't be like that, man. Don't be scared.” A chuckle from Gaten’s intruder, back on Deralia. “You’re shaking! Maybe I just want in on your scam.” “Scam?” This body had already turned to face his new opponent, was already stammering denial. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, young sir!” The man in front of Gaten on Deralia was nondescript, but handsome. Dark-haired and all Human, by the look. He had a leathery look to his skin that spoke of competence and-- --a blur to the side and then something slammed into Valkorian's current head like stars. Something hard. His guard’s body fell backwards and he felt the Force compress as his shields dropped and then his neck snapped-- “Die,” the copy of Revan hissed from above. Next to her the smuggler was blinking, still holding the brick she’d hit him with. His other body staggered as the first winked faded, gasping the words-- --“holopicture,” he made the dying lips mumble. “On… comm-link. Eee’s such a fine… fine…boy--” --a snap hiss and a blaze of red disrupted the second guard’s attempt to deliver the message about Malachor. --Revan! The clever manka had stolen his own saber! --his Selkath’s body put the pie down. “Not sure I have time for another,” he told Deeka Jin. --in the dim light, the copy’s green eyes were dark and full of shadows, as the second guard died too. “Goodbye, Lord Vitiate,” she sneered. “Again.” “What?” Valkorian repeated, but time had passed when he blinked and died half a galaxy away. Died twice--for in his shock he had never even attempted to fight back with the second guard after she killed thr first. “Her copy escaped! I did not anticipate that! Still, where can she g--” Something sharp stung his ribs. Here. On Deralia! “The reason I don't like iseflexin,” a male voice murmured in his ear. Arms wrapped around him, and the hum of a vibroknife jagged as it traveled up his chest, slicing through the old scavenger’s clothes. It stung. “Is that it’s fracking slow. But karkas oil?” A laugh.”You allergic? Most sents are.” Another hand ripped the goggles off and then Valkorian was falling forward, crumpling to the ground and trapped in this body while Gaten’s throat closed. Above him, the black-clad man laughed and kicked him hard in the ribs, knocking off the goggles Gaten’s body always wore, even while sleeping. “Red-Eye,” he said, almost conversationally. “Wondered about that.” A booted kick made Valkorian shriek with the involuntary pain, but the noise came out more like a gasp as all the muscles in his throat froze. “Not sure what you lot are, but we had special orders to always stay clear. Guess that don’t matter, now.” “Whooo--” Gaten’s body managed… and then that body died too. And now, Valkorian was-- --brushing pie crumbs off his belly on Coruscant, and striding away, back toward House Racharn, where he could at least send a message-- --returning a volley of tenistre across the court in a nearby excersium to Helena Shan-- “Good job, Cally!” she enthused. --coughing as he viewed the stands above his execution grounds on Kaas City, tickle in the throat abominable-- Wait. Coughing? That will not do! --drawing his saber to finish the infected one, even as he noticed for the first time that his escort had fallen silent, all of them wide-eyed and waiting, as if something was in the air-- Zepth’s body strode through the doorway to stands looking down at the motley prisoners-- This fourth death was a small one. Nothing, really, after the other three. XXX The man had been calling himself Atton lately. It wasn’t a bad name--didn’t mean anything rude in Huttese and that was always a plus. Atton was a brand of fishcakes back home, and sometimes the man now called Atton instead of Blade Three of Twelve missed fishcakes. “Good thing you didn’t break,” he told the vial of anti-toxin as he picked it up from where it had rolled on the floor. He pocketed it, and, reconsidering, bent down to check the old dead guy’s pulse. Didn’t have one. Reconsidering again, he cut the guy’s throat. Must have already been dead, because he didn’t bleed much--only the tips of his shoes got wet.
Never hurt to be sure.
A few (updated) notes on Memory, the behemoth that I began in 2004, on a whim, because my bad novel was bad, and I just discovered KoTOR and a love for Star Wars. (I came late to loving Star Wars, having never really recovered from my reaction to Darth Vadar being Luke's father, which I thought was a total retcon even at age
Little did I know then the allure of long-lost relatives, retconning, and plot contrivance... but, oh, would I learn.
Q: It's long. Why is so long?
A: The tale, as they say, grew in the telling. Approach it as a trilogy. There are a few arcs, a few progressions that lead to the next, but also have their stopping points.
Chapters 1-27 are the first part, let's call them, "Discovery," in which the mindwiped Dark Lord rediscovers her past
Chapters 28-45 could be called, 'Consequences,' in which the mindwiped Dark Lord sees the true fallout from her past
Chapters 46-? could be called 'Showdown,' in which the mindwiped Dark Lord faces down the Big Bad(s) from her past
I am STILL very committed to finishing this after my more-than-a-decade-long hiatus. I've written the epilogue (subject to change) and the penultimate scene before the conclusion (subject to revision). I'm having a lot of fun, even with the depressing bits. Hopefully you, dear readers, are too. My rough estimate at this time is it will be done around chapter 70...ish.
Q: What's Oblivion?
A: The prequel to Memory, based on the actual game Knights of the Old Republic. If you'd like to see my version of THOSE events, that's where I'd start. Working on it too, but there are some bits of Memory I need to sort out before I work on the next part. Oblivion came into being because the amazing ether-fanfic and I were speculating what could happen in a verse where everyone kept recognizing the amnesiac Revan...
Ether wrote an amazing one-shot, which I highly recommend, called "Face of a Sith Lord." Me, I started another... really long thing.