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Legends of Darkover	By : SWOTBWOT Category: Star Wars (All) > Crossovers Views: 3427 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, Star Trek, or Darkover. I am not making any money off this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Legends of Darkover
- 2-Chapter 2
- 3-Chapter 3
- 4-Chapter 4
- 5-Chapter 5
- 6-Chapter 6
- 7-Chapter 7
- 8-Chapter 8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29 & The End
- 19
- 20
- 21
Chapter 20
-oOo-
Qui-gon exchanged a look with his padawan. “What's wrong?”
“I can't feel him anywhere. I should be able to, with him so close. We found each other in outer space,” said Regis miserably. He glanced at the crystal in his hand. “Maybe I can find him with—”
-Do not try. I'll search for him,- Catriona sent.
“Padawan? Take Regis back to the planetary shield. Lend him your blaster so he is not left unarmed. I'm heading for the Temple.”
“Master Jinn, I'm going to accompany you,” said Regis firmly.
“That piece of equipment is the only thing protecting your cities from destruction,” Qui-gon replied sternly. “Your duty is to your world. Guard it, and you guard Darkover. The Sith must know about the shield by now, and they will be hunting for it. They are perilously close to finding it. Unfortunately, I chose this location for its placement, thinking the Forbidden City safe from outside curiosity. Your duty comes before your personal feelings, Dom Hastur. I will find Danilo.”
Regis lowered his head in defeat. “Lead on,” he said sharply to Obi-wan, his anger plain.
Catriona interrupted. -The enemy ship has landed near you, and its pilot is waiting for a command from his Sith master. The pilot saw Inculcare go down into a squat, underground building. He was followed a few minutes later by Danilo, a machine, a pair of troopers, and Tyranus. Let me show you the location.- A mental picture flashed into their minds, of the Tulak Hord sitting beside what Qui-gon remembered as the Temple of Zandru.
“I need to leave immediately,” said Qui-gon. “Go,” he commanded his apprentice. Obi-wan started back for the shield with the reluctant Regis.
-One moment, Master Jinn.-
-Domna?-
-If that place is indeed the Temple of Zandru, you need to be warned that an ancient trap matrix is still active there. The keepers of Hali never had the means to destroy it, not being able to venture into the city. Domna Ysabet did not think it a worry, since no one could approach it close enough to fall under its spell, but you cannot walk into its influence and be unaffected. My circle will try to shield you from it as long as possible. However, we have never tried our strength against this matrix before, and I do not know if our laran will even work once inside its domain, nor if we can hold it off for long. If we fail, you must use your own laran to resist it. It will tug at your will, make you listless and weak, and muddled in thought as it tries to enslave you.-
-I understand.- Qui-gon began to glide towards the Temple with his most soft-footed jog, avoiding broken bricks and shattered roof tiles as he kept an eye out for the pilot. As he scouted around, he noticed a few items that he'd missed during his night visit, such as broken crockery and fragments of skulls and teeth. The city looked different in the daylight, more torn, more chaotic, more pitiful.
-Shall we deal with the pilot?-
On Darkover, revenge was not an emotion to be ashamed of, it seemed. Catriona certainly thought nothing wrong with it. However, in this case revenge and practicality coincided. He gave a mental nod.
Catriona set the Aillard gift to work, and Norbaoth jerked and fell face-first into his instrument panel, crushing his mouth against his head-mic.
-oOo-
Inculcare traveled some distance in the dim light, finally reaching a large chamber. The room brightened with a sudden flaring of light chips. The walls were squared, and covered with a giant pair of damp, mineral-stained mosaics on opposite walls.
-The work in front of you shows Zandru, the Lord of Hells.-
The God was a handsome man with long silver hair, robed in plain black. He was holding a sword parallel to the ground, the blade in one hand, the grip in the other. Behind him was the old city of Hali as it had been before the great destruction, with the Tower of Hells prominent in the foreground, surrounded by a circle of workshops. A huge crowd was gathered around the giant figure of Zandru, naked and weeping, kneeling in front of and imploring the God. A circle of black-robed men were busy assailing the mass of humanity, beating, mutilating, whipping, raping, and sodomizing the wretched.
The silver irises of the God were flat and lifeless. They looked at nothing, and seemed indifferent to the suffering around him. Maybe the artist was unskilled at portraying eyes. They were more like those of an animal than a human being.
Inculcare turned and inspected the opposite wall. Zandru was standing in triumph over three defeated figures. A headless male corpse lay on the ground, the severed head serving as a footstool for the God of Hell. Under Zandru's other foot was the throat of a gutted man, torn open from neck to crotch like a deer. This second dead figure was clutching a broken sword. Off to one side was a naked woman on her knees, weeping. Her eyes, face, and torso were marred by bruises, and the insides of her thighs were stained with blood. A pair of smaller, black-robed figures were holding her arms behind her, and a third had hauled her head back by her hair. A fourth figure was disrobing, baring an erection he obviously intended to use.
The chamber's entrance was an archway, carved into the wall where the severed head's mouth ought to be. The ancient artist must have possessed a macabre sense of humor.
In this portrait, the artist had used the trick of making Zandru's eyes follow the viewer around the room—a little tricky in mosaic--and the God's gaze was focused and aware. Inculcare nodded, understanding the subtle psychology behind it.
The walls were lined with wooden chests, and though Inculcare wished to investigate them, the Voice differed. -Continue on,- it commanded.
The exit was under a scene of a man tied between two chervines, with two black-robed figures whipping the animals so that they gradually tore him apart. It was blocked by a door of hammered iron, which opened itself on a hinge for him. The next passage led to another chamber with more mosaic-work. In the center of the room was a large pit about twenty feet across.
-This is the room of my contributions, where my followers are created and sealed to me.-
Inculcare inspected the pit. A projecting lip of stone led to an abrupt drop. Beside the pit stood a chalice-shaped piece of carved stonework, reaching the height of the High Inquisitor's chest. In the chalice's wide lip was set a ring of matrices, but these bore no resemblance to the stones he'd seen on Catriona and Danilo. These were completely black, giving off a strange no-light that reeked of the Dark Side. Inculcare reached out with his cyborg hand.
-No. Not even you can touch this without preparation. This is a trap matrix series, one of my cleverest inventions. A normal matrix placed in the center becomes its slave, putting its user under my control. Look about you. This is how it was.-
The sluggish air of the chamber suddenly came alive, the light-chips in the walls blazing like hot diamonds. The room became a baroque efflorescence of decoration, mosaics lighting up with a palate of purple, blue, and black predominating. The ancient majesty of the room appeared once more. Slowly, Inculcare studied the panels. Most of them portrayed this very room, and appeared to tell a story.
A man was being guided into the room by two robed figures. He removed his clothes--or at least they were lying on the ground in the second panel—and he placed his own matrix in the center of the chalice, right into the trap matrix network. In the next panel, his hands were tied behind him, and he was blindfolded. Then he strode out onto the projecting lip over the pit, unguided, appearing to feel his way forward with his bare feet. In the next scene he was gone.
But at this point the story became confusing. The man appeared again, and he was standing in a lake, still tied and blindfolded, stepping towards shore. The same two robed figures were waiting for him. They untied him and held a robe out for him. In the last panel he was placing a matrix on a cord around his neck, but its color had changed from its original red to black.
Inculcare suspected the last three panels were metaphorical. -Does anyone actually survive being contributed?-
-Of course. I reward all my followers with immortality.-
-But do they survive in the physical sense?-
-Why would they need bodies?-
Inculcare made no reply. He doubted that anyone survived the pit, and that the capture of the donated matrices was the goal of these 'contributions.' Somehow, Alton appeared to have kept the stones still functioning and useful after their original owners' deaths. This was very skillful mind control, indeed. However, the High Inquisitor had not failed to notice a lack of 'thereness' in his host's mentality. The Voice was obviously unsophisticated, and showed no sign of having been taught a mental discipline comparable to Jedi or Sith training. Inculcare had already discovered he was able to hide certain thoughts from the Voice. Its feeble personality should be easy to overcome. He had no intention of taking second place in any arrangement of power, and he only wished he knew where the Voice's personal matrix was hidden. The High Inquisitor was not foolish enough to probe for its location yet, and risk alerting the Voice.
-The intruders must be contributed to me.-
-Who?- Inculcare asked.
A mental picture was presented to him of Tyranus, the troopers, and Danilo.
-I have not had contributions for so very long. The men of your kind will make me stronger, but I especially wish for the boy. I have not felt his kind of laran before, for the Comyn bred it after my time. I desire him very much.-
Though happy to contemplate Tyranus' demise, Inculcare could not acquiesce in Danilo's death quite so soon. This was one point where he would have to deceive his ally. -Wait. You said men of my kind. Plural?-
The Voice showed Inculcare a glimpse of Qui-gon reflected through one of the tiny light crystals in the wall. The Jedi Master was walking down the worn stone stairs into the Temple.
-The Light does not blend with our Dark,- Inculcare replied. -He must be killed without assimilation.-
-Possibly. I have absorbed many who thought they were of the light. However, this man is protected by the witches of the tower. His mind is hidden from me. Their leronis walks beside him.-
Inculcare's eyes narrowed. -Literally?- He had seen no one else with the Jedi Master.
-No. But hermind has entered my domain, and that is her mistake. Not even a witch of her power can fight me for long.- He gave the High Inquisitor a mental picture of Catriona.
-Indeed?- Using both Danilo and Catriona had been Inculcare's original plan to control Alton's matrices. Was it still possible to achieve that goal? Quickly, he began to think.
-Step beyond, Inculcare.-
The mosaic with the man walking into Lake Hali began to move. It swung open, showing a hidden passageway. Inculcare entered, and it shut behind him.
-oOo-
Danilo inched along the hallway. “There's some dark presence surrounding us on both sides, but I can't concentrate on it.” He was struggling to keep his balance, wincing from the pain in his shoulder.
“How is it that our mysterious Voice knows your surname?” said Tyranus. “It seems barely sane or sentient.” Like Danilo, he'd noticed a constant pull on his mind, a pull that he'd resisted so far. But he'd noticed the stumbling walk of the boy, and the odd weariness of his troopers. Something was trying to control them, and the boy had little resistance to it.
“I don't know,” Danilo mumbled. “We've reached a room.”
Tyranus couldn't feel the dark presence as strongly now as he had earlier. It seemed to be—preoccupied. He turned his attention back to the new room. “I'm surprised. I hadn't thought you abos were capable of creating works of art,” he commented. The troopers and the Sith lord were swivelling beams of light all around the chamber. “What is the significance of the iconography? Speak, boy. I'm not a man averse to culture, as long as it doesn't last longer than two minutes.”
“That is Zandru in the middle,” said Danilo in a faltering tone. “I'm a cristoforo, so I know little about the symbolism.” He turned away, his expression appalled.
One of the troopers laughed. “It's plain to me,” he said.
“Too Hieronymus Bosch-like in the bodily proportions, but not bad for mosaic work,” said Tyranus.
Behind them was another giant mosaic. “Your God is fond of himself, isn't he?” Tyranus sneered. “Who are the other figures?”
“This is--” Danilo's voice shook, “blasphemous, by Darkovan standards. This scene never happened. The dead man with the sword is Aldones, the Lord of Light. The headless man is his son Hastur, and the woman is Hastur's love, the blessed Cassilda. The followers of Zandru have created a false mythology.”
Tyranus was pacing the room, his eyes darting everywhere. He inspected the chests, then his eyes went back to the mosaics. With no warning, Danilo fell to his knees and collapsed on the floor.
Tyranus pulled the boy into a sitting position and injected two hypos from his battle medikit. One was a mild painkiller (Tyranus wanted him cringing, but not so much he couldn't use his laran) and the other was a stimulant. Under their influence, Danilo's color returned, and his eyes opened fully. “Concentrate, you idiotic boy. Someone is trying to take over your mind. Where is its matrix hidden?”
“I can't--”
“Imbecile. Where is the darkness at its strongest?”
“Behind the wall with the crowd scene.”
Tyranus jerked the boy to his feet.
“Before we leave--” The Sith lord gave a signal.
The troopers and the droideka opened fire on the wooden chests. Clasps were shot off and lids exploded, wooden shards flying everywhere as the men crudely assailed the room. Fragments of wood began to burn, and Danilo cringed at the noise.
Quickly, Tyranus circled the chests, lifting aside layers of half-rotten cloth. It took him some minutes to paw through their contents. “Clothing,” he muttered to himself. “More clothing. Yet more clothing. Nothing. But. Clothing,” he said as he finished the room. “Not a weapon or a matrix anywhere! For someone robed in austere black, your God has a most pronounced paraphilia for clothes. I wonder if he likes to wear chopines with his corsets.”
Everyone felt the pulse of dark anger this time. -Who are you to insult the God?-
“Who are YOU?” Tyranus retorted.
A figure appeared in front of them. It wore a black robe over its pale skin, and was very lean, its hair foaming white. Its grey eyes and odd tilted features alerted Tyranus that he was facing something not exactly human.
-I am the priest of this Temple. You have insulted the mighty Zandru.-
“The mighty Zandru, if he really is a god, can look after himself—and his ego,” Tyranus replied contemptuously. “He doesn't need a priest. And your name, you stupid fool, is Sicul Alton.”
With no warning Tyranus flipped up the muzzle of the laser rifle and fired. The bolt passed through the figure, and it disappeared.
A mental laugh sounded.
“Was that you?” Tyranus asked Danilo sharply.
“No.”
The Sith lord scanned the room. “Force Illusion. His power must be anchored to a matrix somewhere. Let us find it.”
The exit lay under a man being rent by chervines. The passage was blocked by an iron door. It refused to open, so Tyranus directed blaster fire at it, heating the door until it began to collapse heavily under its own melting weight.
Another passage lay beyond. Tyranus shoved Danilo forwards, forcing the boy to leap over the pool of red-hot metal. The rest followed him. At the other end they discovered a chamber with a pit. Beside the pit was a stonework chalice.
-Contribute him. Give the boy to me, and I will forgive you, Darth Tyranus.-
From nowhere stepped a semicircle of figures, all robed in black.
“I have my own plans for the boy. I intend to conquer a galaxy, you petulant whining vapor.” Tyranus' eyes were on the chalice, on the ring of black crystals set there. They were radiating the Dark Side.
-Give him to me, or you will die. Place his matrix in my chalice.-
“Thank you for explaining it to me. As your chalice appears to work only on Darkovans with a matrix, I will have to see the rest of your wares before I make my purchase.”
-Illusion? You think I am an illusion? Can illusions do this?-
Hard hands seized the Sith lord from behind and lifted him off the ground. His rifle and lightsaber were jerked away. The troopers were also disarmed as they became airborne, thrashing, floating towards the center pit. The white-haired figure appeared again and took hold of Danilo. The boy rose up into the air with a howl of agony as his wounded shoulder took his weight.
Quickly, the Sith lord thought. It was not insignificant that the robed figures thought it important they be disarmed. The black-robed figures had also ignored the droideka. Maybe they didn't know what it was. “Droideka, attack with multiple fire. Emergency mode Two!” Straining, he turned his head in time to witness his troopers as they were dropped into the pit, yelling.
The droideka's curved head swivelled, calculating with its sensors. Its dual blasters sprayed the room, picking off the illusions with computer-accurate shots. Tyranus felt his arms released as his captors disappeared, and as he fell, he retrieved his lightsaber and blaster with the Force and started firing. With each shot, the robed figures disappeared, but rematerialized a few seconds later.
Tyranus' eyes searched the room. There was no way out except for their entrance route, and he had no intention of going back. “Fire at the walls!” he roared at the droideka.
Shattered pieces of mosaic rained everywhere as chunks of rock were blown out of walls. Blaster fire lit up the room with flashes. The mosaics were being pulverized. Then Tyranus saw it. A section of mosaic flew off, revealing a hollow space behind. “Concentrate fire over there!”
The hole widened under the punches of energy, showing a hidden passage.
A cry of pain reached Tyranus' ears. Danilo had been floated out onto the lip of stone over the pit. Tyranus fired at the illusion. It disappeared and Danilo fell, landing off-balance with a frightened, inarticulate noise. Both boy and Sith lord realized together what was about to happen.
“By all the Gods of the Sith,” Tyranus groaned.
Danilo half-rolled despite himself, trying to fight his momentum, and as Tyranus watched, he stopped right at the edge of the pit. But one uncontrolled wobble too many rocked him right over the side.
In midair the boy halted, his breath slammed out of him by a jerk around his waist. He turned his head. Tyranus was dangling off the lip by one hand, the other being hooked into Danilo's belt. “I can't believe I've just saved your life,” Tyranus complained, fighting to lift them both upwards with the Force. “This is unworthy of a Sith lord.”
“I can't believe it either,” replied Danilo through gritted teeth.
“The irony is painful to contemplate. Why don't you have--a Force talent--you can apply--in these situations--you--worth--less--boy?” Tyranus panted as he hauled them back up on the lip.
“I'd like one, believe me.”
Tyranus dragged his captive over to the newfound passageway. “Cover the retreat and keep firing,” he called to the droideka.
They entered another corridor with the illusions following. “Hit the ceiling and walls,” Tyranus ordered. The droideka pounded away. Debris began to rain down, then a rockfall came. Tyranus shoved Danilo hard into the next chamber, and the droideka clambered after. Behind the droideka, the way was completely blocked.
The illusions did not reappear.
-oOo-
- 19
- 20
- 21
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Legends of Darkover