Star Wars: The Old Republic: Revan (8 page)

Scourge turned his attention to the next two patrol drones. He dispatched the first by hurling his lightsaber at it, knocking it from the air with a single well-placed throw before it even got close enough to use its internally mounted blaster.

The second took evasive action, dropping down behind the conveyor belt and a line of assembly droids. It skimmed along the ground, closing the gap until it popped up from behind its cover so it could fire at point-blank range. Scourge made sure it never got the chance.

Reaching out to grab the drone with the invisible hand of the Force, he slammed it back down to the ground. Its legs snapped off and went flying; its exterior hull cracked in multiple places; several of the welded plates tore loose. All the lights on its body went dim.

The alarm sirens were still howling; it wouldn’t be long before security droids stationed in other sections of the plant showed up. If the droids kept arriving in small groups of two or even three, Scourge knew he could hold off several more waves at least. If they arrived in greater numbers, he was going to have a problem.

He was breathing heavily, the sweat so thick on his red skin he felt as if he had been swimming in the ocean. The Force had sustained him so far: protecting him from the worst of the heat and allowing him to move faster than his enemies could react. But he could draw on it for only so long before exhaustion set in. Already he could feel himself tiring. Sechel had to locate the information soon, or they’d have to retreat empty-handed.

He saw three patrol drones enter from one of the passages at the north end of the manufacturing plant. Two more were moving in from the east. Grimacing, Scourge tightened his grip on his lightsaber and prepared to do battle yet again. Instead of closing in on him, however, the droids kept their distance.

The reason for their puzzling behavior became clear a moment later when a massive assault droid lumbered into view. Like the patrol drones, it had the gray-and-orange finish common to all UDM models. But that was where the similarities ended.

Three meters tall and covered in thick armor plating, the security droid walked on a pair of hinged-metal legs, each as thick around as Scourge’s waist. Its armless body was thick and wide, two meters on every side, topped by a pair of heavy blaster cannons instead of a head.

The droid broke into a run toward him, moving fast despite its bulk. At the same time, it opened fire with both cannons. Scourge leapt for cover behind the nearest conveyor belt, unwilling to trust his armor against such overwhelming firepower.

The security droid didn’t let up; the bolts ripped into the conveyor belt and the hapless assembly droids lined up along it.

Crouched low, Scourge ran back toward a nearby stairwell leading up to the narrow catwalks that ran above the manufacturing floor. A shower of twisted, scorched metal rained down on his back—bits and pieces of those assembly droids unfortunate enough to get in the way of the cannon fire.

From the corner of his eye he saw the patrol drones swooping in to join the fray. Because of the engines and sirens, he couldn’t hear the assault droid coming after him, but he could feel its heavy footsteps vibrating the floor.

Reaching the stairwell, he took the steps three at a time. The assault droid continued to fire, but it wasn’t designed to take out aerial targets. Its bulky armor plating limited its vertical range of motion, and from the floor it couldn’t get the proper angle for a clear shot toward the ceiling. Its bolts ricocheted off the reinforced metal of the catwalk’s safety rails and floor, but none even came close to its intended target.

Scourge’s elevated position on the catwalk didn’t help against the patrol drones, however. Their repulsors allowed them to rise up to the level of the catwalks with ease.

With the five hovering patrol drones closing in on him, Scourge raced toward the vats of molten metal in the center of the room. The catwalk he was on passed right beside the nearest vat. As he drew closer, the heat became almost unbearable. He felt his skin blistering, but he ignored the pain and continued onward.

The drones were rapidly closing in. Two of them swooped in from the side, trying to cut him off. Their path took them directly over the
vat, and Scourge seized the opportunity. Drawing on his rapidly dwindling reserves, he used the Force to knock one of the drones off-course, sending it careening sideways into its partner. The midair collision wasn’t hard enough to inflict any direct damage, but it caused both to spin out of control. Unable to right themselves in time, they tumbled down into the vat, where the bubbling molten metal closed over them.

The three remaining patrol drones altered their course to steer clear of the vats, confirming Scourge’s fear that the trick would only work once. They opened fire, but their target suddenly reversed his direction to race back along the catwalk toward the assault droid on the floor below. One of the bolts struck Scourge squarely between the shoulder blades, but luckily it didn’t penetrate his armor.

The assault droid continued to fire ineffectually at Scourge from below as he charged at it. He closed the gap until he was directly above it, then grabbed the catwalk’s safety rail and vaulted over the side. He landed directly on the square, flat top of the assault droid and chopped down with his lightsaber.

The blade bit deep into the droid’s armor plating but failed to reach any of the internal circuitry. The droid shook angrily from side to side, and Scourge was thrown off. Rolling to absorb the landing, he scrambled to his feet and circled behind the droid. He knew his only chance was to stay on its blind side, so it wouldn’t be able to bring its blaster cannons to bear.

He slashed at the armor-plated body twice more. The first blow left a scorched furrow. The second—delivered in precisely the same location—went all the way through. The assault droid reacted with a shudder, momentarily listing to one side. But before Scourge could follow up with another attack, it kicked out with one of its massive legs, catching him in the chest and sending him crashing to the ground.

A sharp pain shot up from his side, and he knew at least one of his ribs had been cracked. The assault droid was slowly, jerkily, turning to face him. The three remaining patrol drones were once again bearing down on him, close enough to open fire.

Scourge scrambled forward on his hands and knees. The assault droid was tall enough for him to crawl under its legs and take shelter
beneath its body. The blaster bolts from the patrol drones ricocheted ineffectually off the larger droid’s armor plating. The assault droid returned fire, its programming instinctively identifying anyone firing at it as a hostile threat. Its blaster cannons tore through the patrol drones, reducing all three to scrap.

At the same time, Scourge drove his lightsaber up into the assault droid from below. To save costs and improve mobility, the underside of the droid wasn’t equipped with the heavy armor plating that protected the rest of its exterior, and the blade went deep. Scourge stabbed the vulnerable underbelly twice more before rolling clear and springing back to his feet.

Staggering, the droid tried to turn to face him. It was leaking thick, black lubricant from where Scourge had sliced it open, the liquid forming a rapidly spreading pool beneath its feet. A muffled explosion came from somewhere inside the droid, and a wisp of smoke curled out. Its legs sagged, and it slowly toppled forward, then lay still.

Scourge didn’t have time to savor his victory. A swarm of patrol drones poured into the room, emerging alone or in pairs from passages on both the north and south walls. At the same time two more assault droids marched into view, and the Sith Lord’s spirits sank.

There was no shame in fleeing a battle that couldn’t be won; only a fool continued to fight against impossible odds. Yet even if he were willing to risk Nyriss’s wrath by abandoning Sechel, Scourge doubted escape would be possible. There were too many droids, and he was nearing the point of total exhaustion.

With a grim smile he raised his lightsaber, prepared to inflict as much damage as possible before he died. And then suddenly everything went dark.

Scourge fumbled for his night goggles, knowing the illumination from his lightsaber wouldn’t be enough to fight by. He yanked them from his belt and slid them into place, then stood stock-still, stunned by what he was seeing. None of the droids had taken the opportunity to advance on him. The assault droids hadn’t moved; the patrol drones had all fallen to the ground.

Only then did he register the fact that it wasn’t just dark—it was silent. The deafening engines had ground to a halt. The conveyor belts were quiet, and even the assembly droids seemed to be frozen in place.

He punched the comlink on his wrist. “Sechel? Are you there?”

“You’re still alive?” Sechel asked. He sounded surprised, but before Scourge could ponder that, he swiftly added, “Good. I was afraid you wouldn’t make it.”

“What just happened?”

“I copied the files I needed from the records office. Then I sliced into the power grid and used the emergency override to shut everything down. Figured you could use the help.”

“I could have handled it if it wasn’t for the assault droids,” Scourge said, making no effort to hide the accusation.

“Assault droids? Really? Must be a new prototype UDM is working on.”

“Where are you now?” Scourge asked.

“Still near the records office.”

“Stay there—I’ll come get you.”

“I don’t think we have time for that,” Sechel said.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know those big vats? They use trivium generators to melt the metal. Shutting down the power grid destabilized the reactor cores.”

“How long before they blow?”

“Not long enough to keep discussing it.”

Scourge took the hint. Forcing his weary legs into a run, he raced across the pitch-black manufacturing floor. His broken ribs made it almost impossible to catch his breath, and his thighs and calves were on fire. He caught up to Sechel halfway down the maintenance corridor they had used to enter the building.

He didn’t say anything as he ran, conserving what little breath he had for a final push to get clear of the blast radius. He burst through the maintenance door and into the cool night air, Sechel only a few steps behind him.

Jumping the security fence wasn’t an option in his current state, so he headed for the gate he’d unlocked for Sechel at the start of the mission. He was slowing down, the weight of his armor sapping the last of his strength; he drew on the Force to give himself a last burst of speed. Sechel caught up with him a few steps before the gate. The blast wave caught them an instant later.

Fortunately, most of the explosion was contained within the plant,
preventing them from being pulverized by the concussive force. As it was, they were swept off their feet and sent tumbling through the security gate by a wall of air, sound, and shards of glass. Scourge hit the ground, rolled onto his stomach, and instinctively covered the back of his head as debris rained down around them. He lay there for about thirty seconds, dazed, ears still ringing.

He forced himself to his feet, triggering a coughing fit. The broken ribs made it feel like his chest was being stabbed as he hacked up blood-flecked phlegm. The back of his head and neck were also bleeding: flying glass had cut him in at least a dozen places, though his armor had shielded most of his body.

Confident that none of his injuries was life threatening, he turned his attention to his companion. Sechel lay facedown on the ground beside him, not moving. He hadn’t been wearing any armor, and his back was a bloody mess. Though the glass shards had shredded his clothes and the flesh beneath, all of the wounds looked superficial.

Scourge prodded him with his foot until he finally responded with a groan.

“Get up,” Scourge wheezed. “I’m too weak to carry you.”

Sechel did as ordered, and the pair of them limped back through the forest toward their waiting shuttle. Behind them, the UDM plant burned.

REVAN RARELY VISITED
the Jedi Temple on Coruscant anymore. Though technically still a member of the Order, he couldn’t help but feel like an intruder as he mounted the steps and passed between the twin rows of statues that stood guard at the entrance.

Many Jedi, particularly the Padawans and younger Jedi Knights, considered him a hero, a living legend. But the more conservative Masters held a very different view. Some resented him for leading thousands of Jedi to their deaths in the war against the Mandalorians. Others could not forgive him for the millions of Republic soldiers and citizens killed when he and Malak returned from the Unknown Regions as conquerors. Officially, he had been redeemed and returned to the light, but there were those who still felt he bore the indelible corruption of the dark side.

To be fair, Revan had done little to try to convince them otherwise.

At the top of the stairs he passed through the Temple entrance, crossing the long, marble floor as he made his way to the interior courtyard.

The Council had offered to find a suitable Master to retrain him in the proper ways of the Jedi—an offer he had flatly refused. Revan had learned too much about the Force, both the light side and the dark, to
take instruction like some common Padawan. His contrariness might have been overlooked had Bastila not chosen a similar path. At one time she had been the Order’s bright young star. But Malak had temporarily turned her to the dark side, and the Council believed that she also needed to be retrained. When she refused, some of them saw a familiar pattern: Revan leading a promising young Jedi away from the accepted teachings of the Order.

Their marriage further exacerbated the situation. The Jedi Order opposed emotional attachments, believing they were a stepping-stone to destruction. They taught that love begat jealousy, which led to the dark side. But Revan had seen its redemptive powers firsthand. It was his love that had brought Bastila back to the light; their emotional bond had wrought salvation for both of them.