STAR WARS: KOTOR III: THE PULSE
A Tale of the Old Republic by MsFicwriter, ©2014
(DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fanfiction. I do not own STAR WARS or any of its canon characters, which are property of ©LucasArts, BioWare, EA, and Obsidian Entertainment.)
(NOTE ON “ALTERNATE UNIVERSE”: This is also considered an “alternate-universe” work because it does not follow the canonical KOTOR and KOTOR II storylines. In my own personal opinion, “canon” in terms of Revan and the Jedi Exile means the choices each individual game player made for them. My Revan is female and my Exile is male, although the novels say otherwise.)
CHAPTER ONE: PAIN IN MY BRAIN
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…
Ten years after the Jedi Exile defeated Darth Traya upon the planet of Malachor V, the galaxy has entered a brief period of stability. The Republic has begun to thrive, and not only survive, since its war against Darth Malak and the Sith. Not only that, but the Jedi Order has been recruiting and training new members at its rebuilt Enclave on Dantooine.
All would seem to be well, yet underneath the thin veneer of galactic peace, tensions are seething. Not even the Jedi can eradicate greed, financial exploitation, and job insecurity for the people they protect. YEIRA KARITTA, an entry-level employee of Czerka Corporation, has just awakened with a headache…
LOCATION: MODULE 18C IN THE CZERKA CORPORATION APARTMENT COMPLEX, DANTOOINE
0457 hours. Almost time to get up, but if the pulsing in my head doesn’t quit, I’m not going to.
It feels like a nerve that’s close to my brain is throbbing. Maybe it is, but I wouldn’t know. I’m not a doctor. I’m a fresh eighteen-year-old drone for Czerka Corporation, so I shouldn’t have any nerves at all. My head should be full of microchips and connecting circuits, not neurons and - what are they called? Dendrites? I seem to remember that word from science class back in school, vaguely.
My graduation from Dantooine Vocational Institute (DVI) was just two months ago, so how could I have forgotten so much so quickly? “A technical education for a brighter future,” our academy’s slogan went, and I, like a fool, believed it. I had hoped to become a cyber-security technician for the Dantooine government, at their Khoonda headquarters. However, Czerka’s slick public-relations people got to me and several of my classmates first. They promised us jobs, while all that Governor Adare’s staff said was, “We’ll check and see if we have any openings.” What do you think we did? We took Czerka’s offer and rushed to our cubicles and workstations. If you don’t want to be a farmer here on Dantooine, career options are fewer than you might think. I got hired as a data-entry clerk. Data entry? I know how to hack.
Speaking of which, I wish I could hack my skull open and rip out whatever’s causing this headache.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! I slap the palm of my hand down hard on my chrono’s snooze button. It shuts up.
“S4-M1?” I call out weakly, and then “Sami”? ‘She’ is my companion droid and only luxury. “Could you come here for a second?” After a few dweedles and beeps, she rolls toward me. To celebrate my new job, I immediately splurged and bought her at a TENO, otherwise known as a technological novelty shop. “I need some medicine for a bad headache. Would you go in the bathroom and get some, please?” The tinkling notes of her electronic voice reply in the affirmative, and then she scoots away. I’m so lucky. The pain has practically immobilized me beneath the covers, and it’s all I can do to squint my eyes shut. S4-M1 returns with not only three life-saving pills, but a glass of water. “Thank you!” I gulp them all down.
Lying here in the darkness, I try to pretend I don’t see the sun peeking through the cracks in my blinds. If I remain hidden, buried underneath these sheets, no one except Sami will notice me and I can stay home. She’ll take care of me as the pain passes, this pulse that’s making me more sure by the second that a vein will pop right out of my forehead. I’ve never had migraines before, so why am I having one now? Is it the job? Of course it is, I tell myself, but I didn’t think the stress would be this bad so soon after starting.
Oh, kriff! I grit my teeth against a sudden onslaught of agony, and a memory. I’ve got an MTM today. Our Czerka branch holds Mandatory Team Meetings on the first of every month, and guess what day today is? If I don’t make it, I might be demoted and transferred to the Customer Experience Department. What a joke! The only “experience” customers have with Czerka is one of two: mild satisfaction or outright rage. More often, it’s the latter. In my mind I call it the Customer Processing Department, because that’s what it really is. I’ll do anything to avoid going there. At least now I’m working with consoles instead of people - consoles and utility droids. They understand me, and I understand them and their electronic complexity.
Most of my co-workers think I shouldn’t spend so much time thinking. Maybe they’re right.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! The chrono gives me one more reminder of my duty, so I finally turn it off.
“Am I a quitter, Sami?” Negative beeps from my companion droid. “Right. No matter how much torture my head is giving me right now, I can’t miss our Mandatory Team Meeting. Besides, the pills are starting to help. Breakfast shouldn’t be too hard, just some toast and a Caffeine Colloid, okay?” S4-M1 heads to the tiny space for cooking that we call a kitchen, and I manage to stumble my way toward the refresher. Please let the hot water get rid of my headache, I pray to no one in particular. I don’t have time for this.
As soapy, steaming jet sprays soak me from head to toe, I let out a sigh of relief. Overall, Czerka may be a massive conglomeration of cheapskates, but you can’t say they’re not up-to-date when it comes to the technology in their corporate apartments. That’s one of the perks that their PR personnel mentioned when they visited the DVI for our Graduates’ Career Fair. “You’ll live like royalty in our luxurious complexes,” they said, “no matter whether you’re a Sanitation Engineer or one of our Chief Executive Officers!” I was highly skeptical at first, but then I saw the pictures: immaculate cleanliness, no vermin of any kind, and lots of tall windows to let in as much light as possible. Every inch of the sample dwelling was free of flaws.
Sure, I thought back then, that’s the model, but not the standard employee apartment. I was wrong. This place is the best thing about working for Czerka, aside from being able to afford Sami. I otherwise don’t make much, and the way I’m treated at work is sometimes worse than how you would treat a utility droid.
Remembering this, my pounding brain gives one more thump, and I groan. “Telemetric communications on.” The refresher has a built-in panel, and it bursts into life. Right now it’s tuned to a commercial I loathe:
“Are you wondering where you’ll find technical staff with the highest skills and experience, while most of your applicants only know about livestock and herbicides? Czerka Corporation, with multiple branches across the galaxy, has already met your needs. Come see us at our recently-renovated office campus near Khoonda to discuss employee recruitment via our CzerkLink service. Czerka: Consider it done.”
This new slogan has spread like a virus throughout our entire office, and maybe that’s what’s making me sick. I’ve become ill because of it, and one of the symptoms is a splitting cranium! I could laugh at Czerka’s last motto - Wherever you go, there we are - because it was so ridiculously cheesy. This one isn’t. People have started saying “Consider it done” all over the place, especially to their bosses when they’ve been assigned a project. I want to rip the telemetric comm panel right out of the refresher wall, but that wouldn‘t do any good. My favorite song comes on as the jet sprays continue washing me and then finish.
“Sami? Is breakfast ready?” I hear lively chirping from the kitchen, so I know my droid has done her part. No matter how much pain I’m in, it’s time for me to do mine. I dress in my standard-issue Czerka uniform - orange and black, a good match for my tanned complexion - and head towards the aroma of toast. However, the first thing I do is gulp down about half of my Caffeine Colloid, cola-flavored, and lick my lips. Energy drinks have been taken to the level of the stratosphere with CaCol. It’s a slightly gooey suspension of pure caffeine and other stimulants such as taurine and a new synthetic one, galactine. Yum! This will keep me going all day long, especially if I have to work late. I hope it doesn’t make my headache worse.
“Holoscreen on - never mind. I don’t have time.” I eat my buttered toast as fast as possible and bolt for the door with my metal briefcase. “See you tonight,” I tell S4-M1, and she gives me a few electronic tinklings goodbye. Good old Sami. No matter how I do at work, she’s always there to cheer me up. Too bad she’s not human!
I almost can’t say the same for my fellow Czerka employees at our apartment complex shuttle station. Businesslike and efficient, they move and talk like normal people, but only to the communication devices implanted in their ears. I have one, but I only turn it on in emergencies. Who wants to walk around all day and have the rest of the people nearby believe that you’re talking to thin air? Apparently a lot of people here do, because their lips are moving even though they’re not talking to their neighbors in nearby seats.
That’s another reason why a lot of my co-workers at Czerka consider me strange: I’m not tethered to my devices, whether implanted or not. I contact my boss and tell him I’m calling in sick:
“Mr. Lorso? It’s Yeira Karitta, employee ID number 5429-1000.”
“Yes?”
“My head is absolutely killing me. I’m going to go over to CzerkHealth before checking in.”
“Good idea, but don’t miss our MTM. We’re going over everyone’s aggregate performance scores.”
“Right.” How long will it take the automated waiting room to check me in so I can get diagnosed and out of there? “I’ll try my best to make it, but I don’t know what kind of mood the clinical droids are in today.”
“Har, har.” Unlike me, he’s one who doesn’t believe droids have moods. I know better due to Sami.
“Seriously, I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
“85%.” He disconnects. That’s my aggregate performance score for the month: good, not great. I hope that my headache passes completely before 1030 hours. The pills are helping, but not too much. When the shuttle arrives, I try to think of how I’ll placate Mr. Lorso if I miss the meeting after all. The bad thing about an APG is it doesn’t just tell how accurately or quickly you enter data. It also measures Attitude, Office Participation, and the vague one I dread: Overall Efficiency. How does my boss even figure that?
“Now arriving at CzerkHealth,” the shuttle’s automated voice says. “Take your boarding passes with you.” I step onto the shuttle platform and make my way into the outpatient clinic like a wounded soldier. The throbbing in my vein, or whatever it is, has become stronger since I took the pain pills. How unusual. I hope it’s not a side effect of the CaCol, but it really shouldn’t be since I drink one every day and haven’t had a headache like this in…forever. The last time I can even remember one so bad was when I was little.
I’d had a nightmare about a pulsing planet that was saturated with evil energy. Did it even exist?
Shaking off the memory, I walk into the waiting room and manage to give my name to the automated check-in system. There are a few people here besides me, but not too many. I smile and take a seat, perusing a stack of old infotainment holopads: Nar Shaddaa News, Dantooine Daily, CzerkToday. Rolling my eyes, I realize I’m definitely not in the mood for this last one. I pick up DD and begin to read an article.
“Yeira Karitta, employee number 5429-1000?”
I wish they wouldn’t do that. Couldn’t I be just one more anonymous sick person here, instead of a defective Czerka machine? I sigh and stand up, taking the news holopad with me since I figure there’ll be more waiting to do in the diagnostic droids’ office. Surprisingly, though, one of them is available. After I tell N1-O1 about my symptoms, “he” scans my head, checks my eyes and ears, and makes a few notes on a datapad. I’m trying to figure out what he’s thinking and what my diagnosis might be, but he completely shocks me:
“Ma’am? As far as I can tell, there is absolutely nothing physically wrong with you.”
As I sufferer from migraines, I sincerely sympathize with Yeira. Although, from that ending, it may just be a little more than that. Interesting, indeed!
It's a good start, nothing really wrong from what I could see.
Looking forward to see where you go with it from here!