KOTOR 2 - The Harbinger


WARNING: The following contains mild spoilers about KOTOR 1 and KOTOR 2. Reading this will not reveal major plot points of either game, but you will learn some bits. If you want a pure experience, play the games before reading this.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: the events that occur just before the start of KOTOR II are messy, confusing, and contradictory. This is likely because the game was rushed to release, so the writers and developers never had a chance for final cleanup, and TSLRCM could only do so much. Add to this the way KOTOR II reveals these events - a disjoint series of conversations and log recordings that happen throughout the game - and it can be very difficult for the player to understand. At least, it was for me. This fanfic attempts to assemble every in-game detail that I could find into what I hope is a consistent narrative. I am vague about what happened before the Exile boarded the Harbinger, because the game simply doesn't give much info. (I do write about some of that in various other fanfics, but those veer pretty far into wild speculation.) My narrative is not the only possible way these events could have occured without contradicting the game, and some KOTOR II fans may vigoriously disagree with my treatment of them. That's okay. My goal was to see if I could create a story that was logical, entertaining, and considered all facts from the game, not to pretend that I have any special insight or authority. I hope you enjoy it.

For this fanfic, I used a female Exile named Meetra Surik, per the Revan book. Neither the gender nor the name really matters. But I needed pronouns and a name, because writing around them for the entire fanfic would have been awkward.

Oh, and I put my outline at the end, in case you just want to see the order of events I used without reading the whole thing.

CONTEXT: Years before the events of KOTOR I, the Exile, a former Jedi and Republic General who commanded the final, terrible battle of the Mandalorian Wars, left the Core Worlds for Wild Space and has been there for almost a decade. But she has recently decided to return to Republic Space. She had hoped to return in secrecy, but many powerful forces are aware of her approach, some friendly and some hostile.


"Have they been informed?" the robed woman asked. Her face was younger than her silver hair would suggest, but carried lines of concern. Her naturally pale skin tones carried a hint of unhealthy pallor, perhaps from insufficient sunlight. Or perhaps from a deeper, darker cause.

"They have, Mistress Atris," said the kneeling young woman in front of her. Her hair and skin were of similar natural tone, but her lean muscles spoke of peak health and intense physical conditioning.

"And they will not suspect the origin of this information?" the robed woman asked.

"They will not," the kneeling woman said. "We followed your instructions precisely."

"And you are certain that she is still returning on schedule?" She spoke the pronoun distastefully, as if unwilling to refer to its subject even indirectly.

"Yes mistress. She is progressing as planned."

"Very well," the robed woman said. "You may continue with your training." She turned crisply and walked back to her meditation chamber without a backward glance. But under her breath, she muttered to herself, "She will be as a beacon to my enemies. This will be no Katarr. This time, they will be fully revealed. And I'll tie up a loose end as well."


"Are you sure this is accurate?" Carth Onasi said, looking up from the datapad his assistant had just handed him. One problem with being an Admiral, Carth reflected, was that by the time information made it to him, it had been through so many people that he couldn't be certain if it had even been relayed correctly.

"It is impossible to be certain," the assistant said, "but this source has been reliable before."

"This is our new top priority," Carth said. "Do whatever is necessary to verify this, and inform me immediately about anything you learn. We need to be prepared to act as soon as she reaches the Outer Rim."

"I'll blanket the area with spies," the assistant said. "She won't get past without us knowing."

"No," said Carth, "she's far too clever for that. We don't want to tip our hand too early, and numbers of that sort will alert her. We need our best people. Pull them out of whatever they're doing. I don't care how deep their cover is, or what missions we're compromising. It is no exaggeration to say that the fate of the galaxy depends on this."

"Yes sir," the assistant said, and left the room with purposeful steps.

Carth turned and looked out at the stars through the massive viewport that dominated his office. "Why now, Meetra?" he said to the pinpricks of light, as if they could somehow hear. "Why now, after all this time, and just as we're about to take our last breath? Will you be friend, or foe?"


"I am making an adjustment to our arrangement," said the hologrammatic man. He was projected by a large, black, spherical droid floating several feet above the floor, and was addressing a trio of tall, silver droids standing before him.

"Dubious reply: the restrictions you have already placed on us limit the application of our superior abilities," said one of the silver droids. "If you wish this quarry captured, you should allows us to use the full extent of our protocols to facilitate communications and terminate hostilities."

"Your concern is misplaced," the hologrammatic man said. "I am going to provide you an advantage over the other bounty hunters. You are, of course, prohibited from disclosing this to anyone."

"Relieved agreement: we are glad you recognize that we excel over our organic competitors. What advantage, specifically, are you referring to?"

"Organics unfailingly underestimate and disregard droids," said the hologrammatic man. "I have therefore arranged for HK-50s to be placed as protocol droids on Republic ships throughout the Outer Rim area. This will position you in your target's path. I reiterate my previous condition that you are to bring the quarry to me alive with no permanent damage."

"Confused inquiry: if our quarry seeks to avoid detection, will she not avoid Republic ships?"

"Most organics also follow extremely predictable patterns of behavior based on previous imprinting," the hologrammatic man said. "This quarry is predisposed to consider a Republic ship as both safe and familiar, and will therefore be inclined to board one. Additional information I possess strongly suggests that the Republic will take exceptional measures to ensure she makes contact with one of their ships. But you must move quickly, as there is little time."

"Urgent farewell: we will make the necessary preparations immediately, GO-TO." The silver droids turned as one and marched away, metallic feet clanking on the deck.


The cantina was unremarkable. Uncountable versions of it appeared on thousands of Wild Space planets. Aliens of dozens of species jostled for space at the bar, or retreated to quiet corner tables to discuss various unsavory plans. Most of the clientele appeared at ease in this environment, or at least as close to that as they ever were, with one eye always watching for either a mark or an enemy. Meetra's attention, however, was on the two humans currently being harrassed by a trio of Gartuthians.

The Gartuthians were tall and broad, solidly built, with the thick, bark-like skin common to their species. Had they been standing motionless in a forest, they might have been mistaken for large tree stumps. These, however, were not motionless, as they encroached closer on the two terrified humans, croaking ever-louder in their native language, which the humans obviously did not understand. The humans looked desperately around the bar for a security officer, a bouncer, any friendly face. There was none. Then, just as it seemed inevitable that aggression would proceed to violence, Meetra acted.

Crossing the bar swiftly, she inserted herself into the almost-nonexistant space between the humans and the Gartuthians. Meetra had spent only a few days on their homeworld, years prior, but her natural talent with languages was considerable, and she began speaking forcefully to them in their own language, her human vocal chords straining to accurately reproduce its sounds. They responded in kind, the humans watching wide-eyed at the indecipherable heated exchange. Suddenly the center Gartuthian threw a punch at Meetra with a massive fist. She smoothly dodged and threw a return punch of her own, a right cross to the alien's temple. Using her momentum, she spun and followed the punch with a sharp kick to its jaw. The Gartuthian stumbled backward, exchanged glances with its companions, said something unfriendly-sounding, and retreated to the far corner of the bar.

"Like you'll get to," Meetra muttered. "I'll be back in Republic space before you get a chance."

"What?" said one of the humans, still trying to regain his composure.

"Just a threat to break both my legs the next time it sees me," Meetra said. "It doesn't matter. What does matter is that you're way too far from the spaceport and you have vulnerable traveler written all over you. You need to go back and wait for your transport to wherever it is you're going.

"No," said the human, "what did you say about Republic space?"

"Oh, that," Meetra said. "I've been in Wild Space for the last decade, and I'm tired of dealing with the lawlessness and the thugs. I'm making my way back home to the Core."

"We didn't thank you for saving us," said the other human. "I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't stepped in." He shot a quick, meaningful glance at his companion, who nodded. "Would you be willing to travel with us? We're business people, not fighters. We'll compensate you, of course, and cover all your expenses."

Meetra considered a moment, then nodded. "I might as well. We're going the same way anyway."

As she left the bar with her new employers, Meetra dropped a step behind and quietly tossed a coin purse across the room to the Gartuthians. She'd only hired them to scare the business people, not to be struck, and they deserved a bonus. Not that Meetra could possibly have harmed them - it would have taken a pulse rifle to penetrate their hide. Or a lightsaber. But their impromptu offer during the verbal 'argument' to fake a fight was appreciated, and the Gartuthian had done a beautiful job of rolling with the blows, saving Meetra from breaking her hand or foot.

Meetra smiled to herself as she stepped in front and led the business people toward the spaceport. This trip just got a lot more comfortable. In her satisfaction, she failed to notice the shadowy figure in an alley, speaking into its Republic-issue wrist communicator.


Carth getting word from the spy and calling the Harbinger.

Note: I should put the actual dialog from the various Harbinger log entries in at the appropriate places. I can show the people recording them.


The small shuttle gracefully cleared atmosphere, the last wisps of the exosphere falling behind as the shuttle continued to climb into blackness. It was a nondescript craft, similiar in design to vessels of like function on countless worlds. Although its passenger compartment was capable of carrying a dozen comfortably, and twice that if necessary, for this flight it carried only three, all human. Two of them, well-dressed in elegant attire that spoke more of fashion than function, were busy congratulating each other on their importance and good fortune. The third, Meetra Surik, sat in silence, looking without interest through the nearest viewport at the unfamiliar stars beyond.

"...diverted a cruiser just for us," Meetra heard one of the expensively clothed humans say to the other.

"Republic leadership must have heard of the trade prospects we've discovered," said the other. "I wouldn't be suprised if they escort us directly to..."

Meetra stopped listening, her thoughts drifting back to her personal situation. She'd hoped to enter Republic space quietly. When she'd learned that her new employers were being granted passage on a Republic cruiser, she'd considered parting ways with them. After all, once under the watchful eye of the Republic military, they would no longer have need of a bodyguard. But she'd instead chosen to accompany them, in part because she couldn't resist the pull of the familiar. She'd just have to hope that no one recognized her. After all, it had been a decade. And most of those she had served closely with had died in battle. Battles that she had led.

Meetra's thoughts were interrupted as the shuttle turned and their destination became visible through the viewport. Her breath caught briefly in her throat and a wave a nostalgia overwhelmed her, turning to bitterness as it crashed over her. Surprised by the strength of her own reaction, she swallowed hard. At just over 300 meters long, the Hammerhead-class cruiser they were approaching was far from the largest ship in the Republic fleet. Meetra had commanded several like it. She could still recall every detail of its layout, from the engine room to the medical bay to the hanger. She wondered if she could still operate its controls with her eyes closed, as she once effectively had when, her pilot dead, she'd taken over his position, eyes too blurry from smoke to focus, throat burning as she continued to bark out orders to her weapons officer, sensing the enemy's positions through the Force. In those long-ago days when she could still feel the Force.

"...perhaps even a medal of commendation..."

The excited voice of one of Meetra's employers threated to break her reverie, but she continued to ignore them. Let them have their glory. She'd be content to quietly rub elbows with the crew for a few days until they reached a Republic planet, then she'd move on alone. The shuttle was again turning as it made its final approach. Even through the closed cockpit door, Meetra's keen ears could make out the shuttle pilot confirming landing arrangements with the cruiser.

"You're cleared for Hanger Bay Two," said a voice on the communicator. "Harbinger out."

Have a paragraph with Sion on the bridge of the Sith ship, fuming about how Kreia discarded him and Nihilus for the Exile, being happy to have found Revan's ship, which he recognizes from his time on Korriban during the Jedi Civil War, and deciding to use it to gain access to the Exile (Maybe kill her straight up, maybe capture her first then kill her in front of Kreia)

The Peragus HK-50 specifically mentions failures in communications, weapons, and engines aboard the Harbinger, calling it "cascade failures". Another HK-50 line: "Following the unusual set of circumstances that led to the cascade failure in the Harbinger's systems, we were boarded by a small freighter with unknown ID codes. It appeared that this freighter had been attacked, and the captain wanted to study it. This freighter appeared to be still spaceworthy. Your cargo compartment was breached, and you were taken on board the freighter shortly before the Harbinger's systems began to go critical. I, too, managed to board the freighter before the Harbinger's destruction. We were most fortunate to have survived, Master." Also, at least in that conversation, he uses the term "organics", not "meatbags".
"Bring her with us," Kreia said to the astromech. It whistled at her in confusion.

"Drag her," Kreia replied. Threesee responded with a dubious series of beeps.

"If she is that easily damaged, then she is unsuitable for the task I will require of her," Kreia said. "Drag her, and do not lag behind. I cannot both protect us from our adversaries and compensate for your inadequacies."


AUTHOR'S NOTES:

My poorly-organized notes on which this fanfic and the outline below are based are here, mixed in with various other notes about the game. These notes contain HEAVY spoilers about both KOTOR games.

Here is the outline on which this fanfic is based. Some of this is directly from in-game content, and some is me filling in the gaps. I considered building more dramatic tension by presenting things to reader in something other than chronological order. But this is all confusing enough, and the main purpose of this fanfic is to confirm that this order of events actually makes when put into a narrative. So I stuck very closely with the chronological ordering.