BASTILA [Quoom]
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This story was born while I played the computer game “Knights of The Old Republic”, where the player’s favourite henchman, the Jedi Bastila, was in trouble several times. In some (of course too short scenes 🙂 ), she has to face some torture, that gave me the idea for this story, where I will study the conversion from Jedi to Dark Jedi in more details than shown in the game :-))
And even more: at the moment I figure out how to write a MOD to this game. I’m not sure yet, if it is possible to do, what I have in mind – so don’t run to the store and buy it at once only because of this first announce; I’m of good hope, that some day I will have written a MOD, where the player can take the part of the torturer himself, but if it is possible with this engine, I will learn in the coming days and weeks.
The end of this project is far away in the future, and the only reason that I mention it already, is that I may need some help with such an ambitious project.
Maybe some of you have a bit experience with MODding – the KOTOR-engine is almost the same like the one of NWN. For the MOD that I have in mind, I could need some help – people with some experience with the Conversation-Editor, with the gmax (or even 3d-studio) for animations and model-changes, and texture makers. If you feel able from time and knowledge to contribute, you are more than welcome.
Furthermore I could need some voices later – certainly no problem to find the male ones ;-), but if there are scream-queens who want to give their voice, please contact me.
Of course this will NOT become a business-project (I’m quite sure, that G.Lucas would never give his ‘okay’ to such a story in his world, that is protected by legions of copyrights and bloodthirsty lawyers); it is for fun only, so you may not expect any payment.
QUOOM.
“You are strong, Bastila… for a Jedi, that is. But strong is not enough.” Darth Malaks voice didn’t show any sign of effort, while Bastila had to use the short rest he gave her to inhale fresh air into her burning lungs. She knew he was right. She was no match for him, but she had known this on forehand. Her only goal had been to stop him long enough to grant her friends the opportunity to escape from the Leviathan. And so this rest was twice welcome: she gained a few seconds more, while the Sith Lord wasted his time mocking her. Again he charged, his light sword swirling with such speed she couldn’t avoid being hit. The glowing blade left a finger-long wound on her arm, burning the flesh almost to the bone. Blinded by the wave of pain she waited for his final blow. In spite of the burning wound, she felt at peace, She had not fallen short to master Vrook: as a true Jedi she had given her life willingly, to save her friends and true them the Republic.
Suddenly, among her reverie, she realized the mercy blow was not coming. She raised her head, and saw Malak immobile, staring at her, his blade lowered. Uncertain about what was going on, Bastila used what little energy she had left to heal her wound as best as possible through the Force. Then the dreaded Sith Lord spoke.
“Time to end this now, little Jedi, before you are damaged seriously”. He raised his left hand, and violet flashes hit her, lifting her up in the air like a feather in a storm, filling her nerves with the painful und disgusting power of the dark side, making her scream and yell until it finally stopped and her body fell down to the ground like a dead corpse.
“Just a little foretaste of what you will experience in the next future.” He laughed out loudly, and watched her trying to get back on her feet, just to send her down again with a second powerful Force storm, that left her with trembling, powerless limbs, small ripples of blood running out of her nose and ears. She didn’t really notice the Seth’s troopers entering the room, taking her still convulsing body away. Bastila had been prepared to die in this fight, but with the last thoughts, before she sunk away in an endless black, she begun to realize that in fact the price she would have to pay for the escape of her friends could be much higher…
“A sharp pain starting at her elbow-pits and running upwards along her veins woke her up with a short scream. Bastila opened her eyes, and found herself in kind of capsule that stood in a chamber filled with devices whose general purpose was not difficult to guess at all – albeit she did not dare to conjecture about their specific functions. “Lord Malak’s torture chamber” she thought with a shudder running down her spine. Without any hope to succeed Bastila pulled tentatively at her bounds, the heavy shackles at ankles and wrists, neck and waist, that chained her standing upright und almost immovable at the inner walls of the capsule.
Her eyes dropped to the source of the pain, her armpits, where needles pricked deeply into her flesh. The needles came from probes which were hanging from wires. Medicine, drugs, torturing substances – whatever Malak wanted – could certainly be flushed through those wires and probes into her body. She noticed that even her head was almost completely fixed, by claw-like, razor-sharp edges, digging into her ears. When she tried to twist or bend her head, and from her eye wrinkles she could only see parts of probes or other devices that pointed from the sidewalls towards the sides of her head.
She also realized that, aside of her shackles, she now was completely nude. For a moment she imagined how some Sith or even Malak himself had removed her clothes, watched and touched and fondled her sleeping body; her face reddened in shame and anger. But this was certainly not her major problem now.
Just some hours ago she had been in a similar situation – on board of the Leviathan, where Saul Karath had tortured her to break Revan’s will, forcing him to watch the ordeal of his lover inside the torture field. With a shudder she remembered the pain, pain so unbearable that she had not been far from the point to beseech Revan to surrender all the required info, damning the Republic and maybe the universe… But even if she still could almost feel the pain when she thought about it, and couldn’t imagine anything worse, the young Jedi knew that this time it would be worse. Much worse.
On board of the Leviathan she had not been alone, the presence of Revan and her other friends – Carth, Jolee, Mission, Zaalbar, Canderous, …all prisoners just like herself – had given her strength and confidence. Even more so because she knew about Juhani‘s plan to break free. She had known then that she only had to endure this torture for some limited time.
But now there was no hope at all. Most likely she had been brought to the Starforge itself – the centre of Malak’s power, where no Juhani, no Revan, none of her friends could come to rescue her. She was totally delivered to the sadistic wishes of Lord Malak and his Sith, who could do with her whatever came in their sick, perverted minds, as long as they wished to do it – or until she would be broken under the torture.
The only good aspect was the fact, that there was not much that she could betray. Hopefully her sacrifice had succeeded, allowing her friends to escape from the Leviathan. But she had no idea what they wanted to do from there on. They had planned to look for the last star map on Korrigan, but this was nothing new to Malak. The Leviathan had ambushed them on their way. And there was no big plan that she could betray, so probably she would be tortured until she could convince Malak that it was a waste of time. Or maybe he would continue even then, just to satisfy his pervert lust?
Before she could slide further in the nightmares of her mind the door of the capsule closed with a sound that remembered Bastila of a predator stilling his hunger with the dead meat of a prey.
The young Jedi stiffened. It would begin now! Bastila wiped away all feelings, all fear and terror and concentrated on the code of the Jedi, who was her only protection – the only thing that even Malak could not take away from her.
“There is no feeling – there is peace.”
Her body screamed, yelled, twitched since… since when? How much time had she spent quivering and sobbing, trembling and begging in utter pain? Hours? Days? Weeks? Time had no meaning anymore for her tortured soul, floating in the flickering flashes that filled the inner of the capsule.
“There is no…”
Again her own meditation was stopped and deafened by the voice that seemed to be located in the middle of her brain.
“Peace is a lie. There is nothing but – PASSION
With PASSION I get – STRENGTH
With STRENGTH I get – POWER
With POWER I get – the VICTORY
With the VICTORY – I break my chains.”
Again and again the code of the Sith filled her brain in an endless litany, seemed to fill each single cell of her agonizing body… Each word of the endless litany was accompanied by pain – burning energy which enflamed her nerves, since an endless-seeming time now. Bastila screamed and screamed, her body convulsed, her palms were wet from the blood, because her nails had dug deep into her flesh. Also her mouth was filled with the taste of blood from her bitten tongue and lips. Infinite, futile trials to bash her head to pieces against the capsule had shown her why her neck had been so thoroughly restrained. She didn’t know how long this torture was going on, how often meanwhile she had lost her consciousness. Sometime she could gather enough strength to look down to her armpits, where a number of red and blue dots told her, that she had got many injections meanwhile. Maybe medicine to wake her up, maybe something that kept her alive, or simply raised the pain level required to pass out, or maybe acid, burning in her veins to increase the torture even more. It didn’t matter at all. There was no way out from this hell, and only her Jedi-techniques had allowed her to separate her mind from the convulsing something that once had been her body, preventing her from losing her mind completely under this agonizing, endless torture…
And still she was alone, no Sith, no Malak had entered the chamber since the start of her torture. Not a second rest from the pain had been granted her to listen to a question, not even the chance to give them an answer to stop the pain that meanwhile had almost become a part of her. Blood run down from her lobes, torn in pieces by those claws that fixed her head at the speakers; Bastila remembered that many times she had tried to kill herself – it was in those moments she realized that Malak wanted more from her than only information – much more. Then she had to realize that he wanted herself, her powers, her force; that he wanted to convert her to a sick parody a Jedi – a Dark Jedi, a Sith, to something she always had only despised.
And she knew that Malak must be seeing a realistic chance to succeed; she couldn’t imagine that this could ever happen, but he wouldn’t waste his time without a rather good chance. She would become a Dark Jedi – or she would die under the torment! As she had realized this in one of the few clear moments during the torture she had tried to kill herself with those claws, but for this they where not long enough, her attempt only brought her another kind of pain. And more desperation, as she realized, that such reaction was not at all surprising to Malak, since he had carefully taken care that she couldn’t end this before he allowed it.
Bastila screamed out in pain and anger, tried to overcome the speakers with her hoarse screams, but indeed there was no one who could listen to he, not even herself. The words of the speakers roared directly in her ears, in her brain, didn’t leave any space for anything else.
“Peace is a lie. There is nothing but – PASSION
With PASSION I get – STRENGTH
With STRENGTH I get – POWER
With POWER I get – the VICTORY
With the VICTORY – I break my chains.”
“Rot in hell, Malak!” She spat out, but quickly biting her lips to swallow down more curses. Her mind retreated deep inside, far away from the burning nerves of her body, a tiny island of peace in this hell.
“There is no feeling – there is peace.”
Lord Malak watched the convulsing body of the young Jedi carefully on his screen, and almost regretted that he had left this kind of passion far beyond. But he could notice her astonishing beauty, knowing that he could use it as another hook in her flesh, if it was necessary.
He zoomed to the pain distorted face, to the lips, that formed a word, not the Jedi code and no curse, maybe she called out for Revan? If he had been able to Malak would have laughed loudly. Revan – his former master and Sith Lord, and the only one who could become a danger for him. But he had seen the videos from the Leviathan. Revan’s reaction to Bastila’s torture there. Malak knew that he hadn’t to waste time searching Revan; he would come to him sooner or later. And this young Jedi here would then be the perfect weapon to defeat him utterly.
The Sith Lord appreciated the special irony that Revan himself was the one who had started to teach Bastila the first lessons in passion – another kind of passion than the one she had to learn now, but the one who started the process to break the chains of the Jedi code, a task that he would now complete. Malak put off the current, but Bastila’s body continued to spasm, even as he also put off the force fields of the shackles, and she slowly glided down along the walls of the capsule. She still twitched and convulsed in the aftermath when he opened the door of the capsule, and she fell down to the ground. Her screams had stopped now, and bloody foam run out of her half open mouth.
She didn’t need to open her eyes, his overwhelming dark presence fell over her like a dark shadow.
Bastila coughed, spittle mixed with blood. “Korriban… they’re going… to Korriban”.
Some long moments he kept silence, only her heartbeat and blood rushing in her ears fills the chamber, while she tried to regain control over her convulsing limbs.
“To Korriban? Really?” Malak replied finally without any emotion in his voice. He knelt down and clutched his hand around her throat, pulling her head up, their faces only inches away. “Already you are prone to sacrifice others to spare yourself from suffering? Do you really think I didn’t know their next goal? I know where this treasure hunt of yours is headed, and when Revan gets to the final spot – if he gets there – he will be utterly crushed. So on Korriban he will provide a nice test for Uthar, the local director of the Sith Academy. If Uthar is worthy, he’ll see through Revan’s masquerade, if not… it’s the law of the Sith.”
He let her go, and Bastila dropped to the floor, collapsing in a shambled mess. “But I am your teacher, Bastila, better don’t try to fool me. You know that I knew. So you were only trying to gain some time. Hoping I would jump to the occasion, pursue Revan, give you some respite. Pathetic.” Tears were filling Bastila’s eyes. “Know this, little Jedi: you have no info I wish to learn. Quite to the contrary, it’s you who are going to learn from me.”
“Prepare her for the next phase!” Malak ordered and waited some moments to watch the medics hurry into the chamber, before he stood up. The next torture he would do by himself; it was time that his student got a proper target for her raising passions.
“You are really strong, dear Bastila. Usually I don’t have to meddle myself with convincing a Jedi of the only true way. But all your resistance is vain, young Padawan. Surrender and join me, so this torment will end and you will taste the true power of the dark side. We both now how you hunger for it.”
Bastila left her eyes closed, enjoying those short moments without pain, the first such moments since an endless seeming time. That Malak himself was here now, could only mean, that he wanted to torture her by himself now, and even if she couldn’t imagine how, she knew that this meant it would become even worse now. The young Jedi felt bound, spread-eagled and stretched to the limits, her nude back, her buttocks, even her exposed vagina somehow tickled, as if close to the source of a strong electric field.
Malak’s voice had come from somewhere near her open legs, and suddenly Bastila became aware of her nudity. Instinctively she tried to close her legs, fighting against the shackles, until she realized that in doing so she only revealed her weakness, and quickly she forced herself to calm down. But she couldn’t avoid the blood that reddened her cheeks.
“I see that you are awake… and that you don’t answer me. So you force me to go on.”
Suddenly the whole world vanished in an ocean of pure pain. A million needles seemed to dig into her back, tear away the skin, prick deeply into her flesh and send vibrations to each single nerve of her body, from wrists to ankles. Bastila cried out loud, she screamed and yelled, her body wincing, restrained into the shallow boundaries limits of her restraints, her muscles and tendons stretched, almost to the point of tearing under her own desperate efforts.
“You see, or better, you feel – peace is a lie, there is only…”
He let the sentence uncompleted, waiting for her to do it for him, but at this moment she couldn’t possibly have done so, even should she want it. The echoes of the vibrations still rushed through her nerves, weaker now, but still strong enough that she couldn’t stop her muscles trembling like the cords of an over-stimulated violin. But she looked up to him, and her eyes told him all he needed to know. Not yet, thus. He switched the hellish machine on once again, and once more Bastila dived into a sea of agony. But this time it didn’t come so unexpected, and she could gather enough force to keep away the pain from her innermost self, an island of peace where she tried to remember her own code of the Jedi to use it as shield against the dark powers Malak was trying to summon deep inside her suffering body, looking for ways to spoil each single atom of it.
She clutched at those parts of the Jedi code, used it as an anchor to avoid being driven away in a hurricane of pain. Was it really an anchor, or was she clutching at straws? No, there is only knowledge… no room for doubts, never… “There is no feeling, there is peace… there is no passion, there is Gelssenheit”.
“You are so wrong, Bastila, and you will learn it. Today, tomorrow, next week… that doesn’t matter at all.” tiredly she opened her tear-stained eyes, realizing that she had yelled out those words loudly.
“There is no one who can help you, no one but yourself can release your own power. Use it in the right way, and you can break those chains. Use the passion to find the right way to find your real strength, use this strength to find the true power, that is lying hidden behind the doors the Jedi masters on Corruscant have build in your mind to hold back your true strength and to turn you into their slave.”
“You are the one who is wrong, Malak, and you are wasting your time.” Bastila almost didn’t recognize her own voice, as she finally regained enough strength and breath to reply. Hoarse and weak, not at all as convincing and steady as she wanted it, but trembling and low. Almost like that of a little child who tried to defend a foolish point against her father. But nevertheless she continued, since as long as he argued he didn’t torture her, and she would do everything – no, wait, almost everything – to get some moments without pain. “Has the Lord of the Sith no more important things to attend than to torture his prisoners?”
The Sith Lord laughed lowly, his skeletal fingers cold like death itself touched her temple.
“You underestimate your own powers and your importance, Bastila? You, a powerful Jedi, so proud that even your masters fear your potential?” Sparks sprung from finger to finger and then found their way through her brain, making her convulse once more, as now the dark force filled her brain almost completely.
“No, Bastila, you have all the right in the galaxy to be proud about your powers. With your help, with your Battle Meditation, my troops will gain victory over the Republican forces quickly and easily.” He continued when she was able to understand his words again. “So I am not wasting my time with you at all. It is more important to guide you to your right place, at my side, than to care about the troops of the Republic, which are quite helpless at the moment without your support. And furthermore…” he giggled evilly… “furthermore, to torture you is the best entertainment I ever had in my life.”
“And nevertheless you are wasting your time, you sick bastard!” She spat it out in hate and anger, a sudden anger that had cut itself free out of her castle of self-control. ” I will never…”
Bastila bit her tongue as he laughed out loudly, recognizing her weakness, her defeat. She hadn’t lost her battle yet, but he enjoyed this small victory visibly.
“What a passion… I like you more and more! Only a short step to the next point to use this passion to get the strength.” He pointed to a device that now lowered from the ceiling, from which surged a great power that made the tiny hairs on her front, her torso, her breasts and her face tremble. And not only the electrical field made her tremble now in fear, various tentacles dangled down, ending in pincers, needles and other devices whose use she didn’t even dare to guess.
“You will need this strength now, Bastila. So gather your passion, so feed you hate and use it to resist another time!”
