Five Years

The articulate weavings and bending of metals that had been super heated through explosions and blaster fire and left to cool adrift in space was not easy, it was daunting. Michael knew nothing of the inner workings of the systems of the Forge; remembering only the briefest of glimpses and lore when he was aboard it in KOTOR.

To resolve this issue in the timeliest of manners Michael had been **** to travel to the Temple of the Ancients to gleam what he could from the ancient terminals and constructs within. This had been impossible upon his first visit. As the Star Forge had provided power to the temple and with its destruction, everything within its ancient walls lay dark and silent.

**** to write another rule Michael climbed to the apex of the temple and scribed his Word into the very walls. The twenty meter tall structure shook as power poured out from the stonework, awaking the dormant systems of the temple.

This spectacular event drew the attention of the natives; the surviving Rakatans most notably the Elder Rakatans –a faction Revan had sided with in his quest to destroy the Star Forge– noted the great **** field once again barred entry to the temple.

With the front door literally locked to all outsiders, Michael took his time studying the computers. But without Revan’s subtitle power the game provided he could make little sense of the bizarre, alien language that scampered across the screen.

Hesitant to alter the galaxy any further with the creation of yet another rule Michael took a page from Revan’s book. From which; upon exiting the temple he had intended to pluck the language from the first native he came across. But he was too forceful, rather than leave the poor amphibian with a mild headache; the godling had left it brain dead, motionless on the ground and easy prey for the world’s carnivorous predators.

Michael fought; struggled even as a chorus of words poured into his being. He struggled to remain conscious, but he must have faltered, because he didn’t remember returning to the Temple of the Ancients. But there he was, reading and understanding every syllable, phrase, and sentence. Despite his head feeling like it had been placed in a blender and set on puree he was ecstatic.

“Ll’awu would be so happy…” he heard himself say. His muscled tensed, who was Ll’awu? An image of a young Rakatan fertile female bubbled to the surface of his consciousness. The god didn’t just know her name and appearance, he knew of her as if he had intimate dealings with the alien.

Words; both tender and harsh crawled out of his lips as experiences equally robust and cruel replayed themselves across his eyes; open or closed. While emotions far stronger than any Human alive could experience tugged at his heart.

Michael was afraid, truly and deeply afraid. Had he stolen the Rakatan’s soul? The godling looked inward, he could see shapes that were not there previously but nothing that looked even remotely like a soul.

Prayer was difficult for Michael, who would he pray to? Of course there was God; the Almighty who had blessed him with his own divinity. But he felt hesitant to bother Him. Instead Michael silently hoped the knowledge he had stolen and the life he had tarnished would forgive him.

He returned to the coldness of space later that day accompanied with what he needed to continue.

Progress was slow and tedious for Michael. For the first three years he meticulously recreated the ‘guts’ of the Star Forge from the graveyard of ships on the surface of Lehon. After the third and final year he had gathered what he needed to begin forming the husk of the Forge.

Two more years came and went all the while Michael was on autopilot. But at last, he was finished. The Star Forge was restored to its former pristine glory. Michael stared in amazement, the size and scale of such a technological marvel boggled the mind.

Seeing it from the perspective of Revan was one thing, but to experience the grandeur in person was entirely different. The Star Forge was alive; not in the sense that droids mimicked organic behavior and mannerisms to imitate life. It –this station– was alive in the ****! And it was aware, of how much Michael still wasn’t sure.

Lights blinked and flicked through viewports; something akin to the Station blinking its eyes the god perceived. That was when he felt the rush of power. The lingering corrupting influence that was the dark side emanate from the very core of the Star Forge.

A dark malevolence had been restored alongside the Station and it was hungry. The blinking of the lights ceased, becoming a steady stream of illumination; showcasing the empty decks and corridors as the thrusters proactively fired to position the Star Forge at the best optimal range to begin feasting on the massive ball of hydrogen that spun beneath it.

Michael probed the consciousness of the Star Forge and found it old, ancient being the best term to describe it. It had ravaged the star unendingly when it was occupied by Darth Malak; which had pleased the mechanical malevolence and in turn pumped out countless star ships in exchange to not have its meal disturbed.

Michael would have no such relationship. He would not be viewed like some petty inconvenience in this thing’s mind. His whims catered to by something other than subservience or devotion was inexcusable.

As the first strands of sustenance reached the receptors of the Star Forge Michael exerted his Will upon the construct. The lights flickered and dimmed throughout the Forge, any control the station exerted over the sun in its attempt to feast failed. A wail of deranged confusion and frustration echoed through the hallways of the space station.

Michael did not give it time to format a counter-measure. His thoughts resonated within the foundry. “You shall eat when I say so, not before.” A distant angry hiss was all that followed back within his mind.

Leaving the Star Forge to recognize its new place as servant, Michael turned back to Desten. Now would be a good time to feel earth beneath his feet and see how his little colony was doing. As Michael **** Walked to the planet he saw the last glimpses of the cosmic storm ravaging the hyperlanes of the system begin to dissipate back into the depths of space it had arise from.

Michael arrived with a splash; sinking beneath the lime colored waters of a lake he had _walked _into. It was an astonishing experience, something he would have considered the first real pleasure he had allowed himself since beginning the Forge’s reconstruction. But he felt nothing, no bracing surge of aqua or the biting cold that should have accompanied it. The only reason he knew he was submerged was due to his perspective being shifted to a watered down jade and the air bubbles slowly escaping his cracked lips.

The air still in his lungs carried him back to the surface where he rested upon the shifting waters like a buoy. He might have floated their longer had he not heard timid lapping of water at the lake’s edge.

Righting himself and seeking the sound out brought a level of warmth to Michael he had not known was missing. It was one of his earliest creations. Having a loathing of bees back in his universe Michael had decided to flaunt his new powers and try his hand at crafting a new species.

He had begun with a quadruped shape and selected a mixture of plant and fungi to serve as its base. With this animal needing to fill in for the pollinating insects he added small stamen hairs across its neck and back. Michael had taken into account yearly periods where the creature’s body would produce excess pollen in which it would shed during its travels.

Apart from its shedding seasons Michael elongated its head into a smooth cylinder shell which would house its primary trait of spreading pollen. Gifted with what Michael had dubbed a “Kiss tongue” that could extend to the upper limits of seven feet. Long enough it could use its tongue to gather up any pollen it had generated and share it with the environment.

Now that Michael was looking at it, it looked like a leafy horse though he had simply called them Rada and by its faded foliage it was in the later days of its life span. Refreshed Michael swam to the Rada; who perhaps through years of assessing the differences between friend and predator or by some unspoken bond between creator and created it didn't flee and dropped its head as Michael reached the shore.

Guiding his hand up its elongated face allowed Michael to feel every muscle the creature possessed relax simultaneously. The texture of its hide appeared sponge like as its skin absorbed the excise moisture from the godling’s hand. A final up and down and the Rada raised its head, staring intently at its maker.

I really should have given this poor fellow some eyes. This is really uncomfortable.

The Rada waited there patiently as Michael closed his own eyes in an attempt to locate the settlement in his mind’s eye. He found nothing, he felt nothing. His stomach bottomed out at the thought of the local wildlife overtaking the settlers within days of their arrival.

But no predatory creature he created should have posed such a challenge for equally trained soldiers and experienced Jedi Knights. Again he tried but again nothing sprang into his mind, which brought a scowl across his lips.

The Rada sensing the growing concern batted its face against Michael’s thigh in its own attempt to sooth his worries. Michael smiled seeing the animal’s concern mirroring his own and gently brushed the fungi beast away as he turned himself back towards the lake; watching the reflective waters mirror the sky above. Out of the corner of his eye he witnessed his new companion slowly lie down; its front appendages resting lazily in the waters.

What he also noticed was how his skin was moving. Dropping to his knees, his face inches from the water he watched as the blaster mark that had so long ago marred his face began to slowly fade; the hole knitting itself closed.

A once over confirmed that his body was slowly healing itself. His bones were realigning, the swelling over his eye had completely vanished as had most of the bruising around his neck. He still looked like a body that had been left to dry in the deserts of Tatooine though.

So my somatosensory system has shut down in order to repair my body. I guess that’s a good thing, I doubt I would have been able to complete the reconstruction efforts if I was in mind shattering pain. But why wasn’t the recovery process done sooner? …The extensive and prolonged use of my divine abilities might have postponed the process up until now and now I don’t have access to either the **** or my godly might…

Michael patted his companion as both of them got to their feet. “I don’t suppose you know which way the nearest settlement is?” Knowing the area for all of its life it nodded frantically as he began galloping away, halting between strides to ensure Michael was keeping up.

The trek was long and arduous but not without its own merit; seeing the life flourishing around him kept a smile on the god's face. But the dark thought of his body inhibiting his ability to command his powers in order to restore his health was infuriating him. He was more or less a mortal man once again, an immortal one, he hoped.

The settlement was something out of a medieval fantasy; with splashes of new age technology scattered about. Lumber made up the majority of dwellings with what appeared to be only a single large temple being made of concrete. Tools both mundane and advanced were strewn about in the hands of anyone who could use them as they ineffectively tended to hastily planted crops and hastily dug wells. The aura about the place was one of oppression, no divine or ****-based ability was necessary to discern that, the amount of burns and scars clarified that perfectly.

Many distrustful glares were directed at him as he stumbled into the center of the community; his Rada companion becoming more and more fidgety as a few approached him their faces a welcome sight.

Michael didn't mean to shout but the words just came out that way. "What the bloody hell happened?!"