The Old Republic Life

Zak rolled over. He didn't recall actually going to sleep, but his bed felt wonderful. The sheets were smooth and caressed his skin like fine silk rather than the cotton flannel they were. Something tugged on his ear. He absently pulled a piece of fabric out of the one of the piercings on his right ear. His hand paused. It felt the ridged tight band that hugged the rim of his lobe. His fingers brushed along two others as he ran down the length. The wisps of hair that tickled the back of his neck were gone. He could feel the pillow against the skin of his head.

He bolted upright in bed. His head was shave smooth. No, it was devoid of hair. He looked down at his hands and found his skin a deep crimson red. His heart thudded against his ribs. Zak got out of the bed, which was bigger than the one he was accustomed to, and stumbled around the room. He finally found a mirror. A familiar face stared back at him. One that he had seen almost as much as his own.

Zakesh, Sith warrior who specialized using a mixture of force abilities and two lightsabers. Three gold bands lined each ear with another one on the bridge of his nose. Horn-like growths ran along his jaw. Gold eyes with vertical slits stared back at him.

"Dreaming," he muttered.

It was almost his voice that came out. The sound mingled with the voice of his character making it deeper and adding a slight English accent. He turned a slow circle to take in his surroundings. This was his stronghold on Dromund Kaas. He had set one of the rooms on the second level as a living quarters. The large black bed sat in the center, off to the right was a series of pictures that documented his adventures, and along the left wall a desk sat next to a mail terminal.

This is one intense dream.

The doors whooshed open as he stepped closer. This room was mostly empty with only a carpet stretching from his door to the exit. He didn't need to look in the two doors beside his private quarters to know that one held a terminal for the galactic market and the other was a mock-up of an armory.

He could feel the fibers in the carpet as he walked to the other door. The floor was cold when he stepped into the next room. Three sparring droids rested on standby were spaced between crystal urns that lined the perimeter. Trophies frozen in carbonite were hung along the walls.

It was always raining at the stronghold on Dromund Kaas. The landing pad outside would actually have a sheen on it when he bumped the graphics to their highest setting. It wasn't raining now. There was a growing pit in his stomach. He looked out at the landing pad. It hadn't been unlocked for expansion yet. He was a few million credits short and preferred to spend his cartel coins on cosmetics for himself or stronghold. His breath caught in his throat. There was a ship on the landing pad. His ship. A Fury Class Imperial Interceptor. It was smaller than he had seen before, but it still took up the entirety of the landing pad.

Zak shuffled into the hallway toward the door that led outside. It opened with a hiss. The walkway was damp from recent rain. He stumbled back inside. His head swam, his vision blurred, and that was when he saw them. Shortcut bars arranged in the exact order he had setup on his screen. They hovered in the space in front of him. The blue holographic display shined brighter as he focused on it. He tapped his inventory and activated his primary gear.

Suddenly his head was encased in a helmet. He could feel fabric along his skin and boots on his feet. The helmet fit his head perfectly. It hissed as it supplied him as much air as his hyperventilating required. His vision wasn't obscured, the display still hovered in the air before him, and he still hadn't woken up. The gloves went up to his elbow, they were black and had buckles along his forearm. His boots mirrored the style. The pants he wore were some sort of leather. Originally they had been part of a costume set for one of the famous NPCs that dressed in shades of mauve. They came in a random pack he'd purchased on the cartel market. He had dyed them slate gray and loaded them with custom armor plates. His shirt hugged his torso in smoky gray vertical slates. The helmet that encased his head came with a full-face mask. He had made sure all the colors went together. Even the sharp triangle plates that marked his eyes mirrored his natural gold shade.

He stared at the ceiling. His breath slowed as he concentrated on counting the tiles above him. The lightsabers on his belt clinked when he stood. He turned to face the stairs that led down to the main floor. Holocrons, crystal clusters, and statues lined the way.

His hand wrapped around a hilt. He drew a single lightsaber, which the game mechanics shouldn't allow, and activated it. The familiar hum sent a shiver down his spine. He stared at the white blade of light. The crystals had set him back a chunk of credits, but they looked really cool and gave him a serious bump in stats. He strode to the closest statue, a scale recreation of a protocol droid, and drove the blade into the center. It sank easily through the material. He stared at it as the space around the blade turned red hot and began to slough from the main structure. The smell of hot copper filtered through his mask. He deactivated the lightsaber.

This isn't a dream.

Zakesh stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He tried to think of how exactly he had decorated the stronghold. All of his companions, hologram or otherwise, were set up in the big room to the right of the foyer. He had placed them to look something like a social gathering. His pace quickened as he realized that he had Imperial agents, republic soldiers, as well as Jedi and Sith in the same room. The door hissed closed behind him. He skidded to a stop as he found himself in an empty room. The furniture was still there, but all of the people were gone. Zak scanned the room.

No blaster marks, lightsaber burns, or body parts.

He turned to face the hallway. The hallway had two rooms to his immediate left and right, a thick blast-door straight ahead that led to a much larger area suitable for a hangar, and a set of doors leading to the stairs that flanked that hallway. He turned to the right suddenly remembering how he had set it setup. A meditating padawan knelt facing the window. She was human, twenty at the oldest, and her light brown hair was held back in a single ponytail. The décor around her was basic furniture that had originally come with the stronghold: a slab bed and two metal chairs. There was a piece of furniture he didn't remember purchasing that looked a lot like toilet stall.

She looked at him over her shoulder. The padawan squinted as she studied him.

"Well," he shrugged. "You're alive now."

His voice came out deeper and had a metallic edge to it.

"Yes," she stood. "You," she looked him over. "You're different."

"Tell me about it," he chuckled. "Stay here, please."

She blinked. A long pause stretched between them. She gave a slow nod and sat on the bed.

"We need to talk, but I need to make sure it's safe," he shifted his stance to get a view of the door behind him.

She didn't speak. The padawan leaned against the wall. Zak left her in the room. She had a training saber, but it was hardly a weapon. There wasn't anywhere for her to go if she did try to escape. This was the seat of the Empire. Any force-user would easily sense her. This place wasn't friendly to Jedi, or anyone.

The NPCs are alive. He tried to wrap his head around that. Not now. Focus. Keep moving.

Zak pushed the thought from his head as he stepped into the foyer. Three potted plants lined the wall to his right. His speeder rested to his left. A shelf of tools split the room into two sections. A personal and shared equipment locker sat immediately to his left. He strode to the elevator on the other side of the room. It was locked. Knowing the Empire there were ways to around it.

"Time to see if this works," he mumbled.

Use the force.

"Shut up, Ben," he chuckled.

He took a deep breath and focused. The shelf shook but didn't move. He pictured a cloud of smoke extending from his hand and wrapping around the shelf. The shaking stopped. He guided the smoke in front of the door and the shelf came with it.

"That was awesome," he smiled.

Zak headed back into the hallway now that the door was blocked. He turned to the left toward the large room. The door opened with a whoosh. A raised platform took up a quarter of the room. It had a set of stairs that led to a larger area fit to be a ship hangar. Three Jawa had market stalls set up in the middle of the platform. Racks of blasters, a mining cart, and a few banners were scattered in the space below. He had used this as a storage space more than anything. The Jawa hurried to their respective market stalls and stood straight as he approached.

"Can you understand me?" He asked.

The Jawa in the middle nodded.

"Do you have a translation program for me to understand you?"

The one in the middle looked at the other two. It nodded slowly.

"Can you build two?"

The Jawa nodded again.

"How much would it cost?"

The trio conversed in their native language. It grew more animated as it progressed.

"Listen," Zak held up a hand. "Do you want to stay here?"

They went silent.

"Not like that," he sighed. "Do you want to stay, go home, or somewhere else?"

Three pairs of eyes studied him.

"Do you want to stay here?"

The one in the center shook their head.

"I'm leaving," Zakesh said. "I've got a ship out on the landing pad. I'm almost certain that it has a tracking device on it. I need you three to find it and disable it. Removing it and setting it on something else would be even better. Once that's done, and we're out of range, I'll take you where you want to go."

The one in the middle tapped one of the squares on the belt that crossed its chest.

"How do we know you will honor your deal?" A mechanic voice translated.

"I'm getting out of here," Zakesh repeated. "There's a Jedi padawan in the other room. I'm going to take her with me. If it makes you feel better, I can bring her in."

"This is a trap," the Jawa said.

"I'll be right back," he sighed. "Wait here. There's a rack of blasters over there. I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to shoot me when I come back."

He turned around without another word. The padawan was still on the bed.

"Thank you for waiting," he waved her into the hallway.

She stood.

"I know, this is a trap, why should I trust you, and all that," he took a step back into the hall. "I don't need you. I'm going to leave. You need me to get out of here."

He released the latches on the side of his helmet and took it off. A voice in the back of his head reminded him that he shouldn't have been able to do that.

"My name is Zakesh Skoth," he said as he plucked a lightsaber from his belt.

She tensed.

He tossed it to her. It landed on the bed. He took the other and tossed it next to the first.

"Come with me," he held out a hand. "I'll get you off this planet and then we can go on our own way."

"You are different," she picked up one of the lightsabers.

"Careful," he said quickly. "Point the open end away from you."

"I know how a lightsaber works," she shot him a look.

She scanned the hilt and activated the blade. Her eyes searched for a flaw or hint of subterfuge. She sliced the chair at her side. The blade easily zipped through the cheap metal. She looked back at him. The blade receded into the hilt. She tossed it back to him.

"My name is Aeron Telasey," she gave a nod. "I'll keep this one."

"I have others," Zakesh waved to her to follow. "There are two storage lockers in this room. I'll unlock them."

He felt her eyes on his back as he walked away. The force laid her thoughts bare to him. She could strike him down right now. The lightsaber was real. He had to have a ship. Take the mask, take his clothes, and pass as a Sith. Get back to Coruscant.

"There are three Jawa in the room at the end of the hall," he tucked his helmet under an arm. "Take them with you."

She flinched.

Zak opened his personal storage unit. A holographic display of the contents appeared before him. He had collected gear along his journey and held purchases from the cartel market for later use or other characters. Rare gear had a time limit before they could be sold or traded. Plus, he had a full set of red Mandalorian armor because it looked cool. The Old Republic style with its rounded seamless head was kind of silly, but there was another helmet he found that looked closer to Boba Fett. He tapped on the set to add it to his inventory.

Where does it go?

He grabbed the healing kits and two speeder keys that he hoped still worked. Aeron watched him from the doorway.

"Take what you need," he shifted to his shared storage unit.

It opened another display. This was the inventory that went with his Imperial characters. He had to use the mail system to give something to his Republic characters. The thought made him blink.

The mail system.

"This one is unlocked too," he jogged out of the room and back to his private quarters.

The display for the mail system popped up as he got closer.

This is getting weird.

Zak sensed Aeron before he heard her. A mix of fear, hope, and anger swirled around her. She came to a stop in the middle of the big living room and was dressed in a smuggler's outfit had purchased at the Galactic Market. It was modeled after a rock-a-billy look with a red leather jacket, black boots, and black pants. She held a lightsaber in her hand. It was one he had saved when he was at a lower level because it had a cool looking hilt. She activated the saber. A bright blue blade stretched out with a hum.

"Where did you get this?" She pointed the blade at him.

"I made it," he held his hands up. "A year ago, I think."

"This is a Jedi saber," she took a step closer.

"It's a lightsaber with a blue crystal," he replied. "I didn't kill anyone for it. I built it. The crystal was the most powerful I could find at the time. No one wanted it because it was blue."

"Sith don't have blue sabers," she held the lightsaber firmly.

"Exactly," he nodded. "It was less than a thousand credits when red ones of the same sort were over three."

Aeron looked down at the blade. Her jaw relaxed just a touch.

"Could you come with me to talk to the Jawa?" He put down his hands. "I was going to ask them to check my ship for a tracking device."

"Fine," her shoulders slumped as she deactivated the saber. "You are not what I expected in a Sith."

"Thank you," he walked back down to the large room.

The three Jawa were conversing quietly over a pile of weapon parts. They had pulled a few of the blasters apart and were in the process of making something from the pieces. Small hands scrambled over the parts as the door opened.

"Easy," Zakesh held out a hand. "This is Aeron, she is a Jedi padawan. She can show you where the storage lockers are. Anything you need, or want, from this place is yours. There is a small armory upstairs. A few sparring droids too. They are in sleep-mode, but I'd still be careful."

The trio stared at him.

"I need you to check the ship," he took a knee to get down on their level. "No tricks. No traps. Take what you want as payment. We'll be waiting on the ship. Please, you're my only hope."

"He's telling the truth," the padawan shook her head.

"Allies share names," a high rasp of a voice said.

"Zakesh Skoth," he inclined his head.

"Oshii of the Eastern Dune," the Jawa replied. "These are my companions. Riaja," the one on the right. "And Kan," the one on the left. "I speak common, they do not."

"Do they have the translator?" Zakesh asked.

"Yes," Riaja said in a mechanical voice.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," he stood. "There are higher quality weapons in the storage units. Take what you will. I'm going to load the ship with supplies."

~~

Zakesh watched the trio of Jawa dig through the holographic display in the center of the main room. They had scanned the ship faster than he had expected and zeroed in on the console. The Jawa had also disassembled the protocol droid without pause. Riaja had plucked a small cylinder from the pile of parts and set it aside. The other remains were placed along the floor in the shape of the droid.

Aeron stood on the opposite side of the room. She would pace around the ship and then return to study him. He had opened the cargo locker for them to search through. The padawan added a blaster and holster to her outfit. She had stashed her lightsaber on the inside of her jacket for easy access. Her arms were crossed with her right hand next to the hilt.

Zakesh rubbed his stomach. The game didn't have food as loot and cooking wasn't an available skill. In fact, he wasn't even sure there was a kitchen on the ship. He crossed the main room to the far passage. The cargo area and engine were on either side of him. A quick look confirmed that neither had anything resembling a kitchen. He walked through the main area again. The med-bay was on his left across from his private room. Beyond that was the conference room and crew quarters. He scanned the med-bay, but he didn't think health packs and bacta would help quench his hunger.

"What are you doing?" Aeron asked from the hallway.

"Looking for food," he sighed.

"You don't know where the food is on your ship?" She studied him for a long moment.

"No. I don't."

The crew quarters did have its own storage area but lacked kitchen stuff.

"Finally," he said when he stepped into the conference room.

A table made of sharp angles sat in the middle of the room. There was a wall-wide display on the far wall. To his right there was a console that showed general data of the planet. Farther along that wall was the object of his desire. Even in a galaxy far, far away a kitchen looked like a kitchen. A series of latched cabinets were set about head-height above a counter and sink.

He opened the cabinets one by one. There were sealed sticks of various colors, what looked like freeze-dried applesauce, and a plastic container of some sort of green balls the size of a dime.

"Aeron," he called.

"Yes?" She answered from the doorway.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes," she said slowly.

"Can you walk me through this?" He turned to face her. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Shocking," she walked to stand beside him. "There is something you aren't telling me."

He nodded.

"It does not encourage trust," she closed all but one of the cabinets.

"It sounds crazy," he shook his head. "It's happening to me, and I'm can hardly believe it."

"What is happening to you?" She asked without looking at him.

Zak looked down at his hands. His focus relaxed enough for his menu to come to life.

"This isn't my body," he said. "This isn't my life. I'm not a Sith. I can't use the force."

"Clearly that isn't true," she crossed her arms as she studied him. "You aren't lying."

"I woke up in here," he tapped his chest. "This isn't who I am, but I can't remember much from before. I do know that we need to get away from here. This planet is nothing but trouble."

"How is this possible?"

"I don't know," he laughed. "I don't know what to eat, where the toilet is, or how my body is different from a human. I think Sith and humans can breed so it should be similar."

Aeron blushed.

"Sorry," he studied the contents of the cabinet before him. "I can't read this."

She cleared her throat.

"These are pretty decent quality," she looked over the packages. "You take one of them. Set them on this," she tapped the raised plate by the sink. "Put a portion of liquid in, and let it cook."

"Is this how all the food is?"

"No," she shook her head. "This type is normal for ships and voyages. Military frigates would dream of this selection."

"You don't seem bothered that I just told you that I'm trapped in a body that isn't mine," he plucked a blue tube from the cabinet.

"There is something different about you," she took the packet, opened it, and set the contents on the raised plate. "I don't feel evil in you. The force around you is alive, vibrant, and clean."

"Thank you," Zakesh said with a nod.

"Now," she closed the cabinet in front of them and opened another. "Let me show you how to cook."

~~~
AN:
The idea wouldn't leave me alone after the one-shot.