《Star Wars: A Living Nightmare》
Chapter 1: A Disturbance in the Force
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 1: A Disturbance in the Force
"It is only through interaction, through decision and choice, through confrontation, physical or mental, that the Force can grow within you."
Date: 9 BBY
Location: Imperial Center-Imperial Palace
Emperor Palpatine rested on his throne, reveling in the dark, the only light coming from the glowing buttons that adorned the arms of his sleek seat. His scarred face was obscured in the deep blackness of his hood, though it failed to hide his satisfied smile. Eyes closed he basked in the presence of the darkness, its form curling around him like a snake. And like a dangerous, untamed snake the darkness slowly began to tighten its hold on the old man.
But he knew better than to let the darkness take its hold of him without his knowledge. Spreading out his senses, the Sith Lord known as Darth Sidious gripped the slippery snake of the Dark Side and held on with an iron grip, bending, breaking it to his will. Having tamed the Dark Side many decades ago, it obeyed his whims, drenching the entire throne room in the suffocating darkness that was the very essence of Palpatine''s existence.
Taking measured breaths, the Emperor allowed his mind to focus on that which strengthened his connection with the dark side of the force. It was the stronger, darker emotions that fueled his power. Spreading his mind to the planet far below his towering palace, he brushed the minds of those who made up his powerful Galactic Empire. He could feel the anger, the hate, the malice, and the fear. Oh..the fear! It was rampant, like a virus that spread with but a whisper. In the streets, his storm-troopers kept order through fear. Nobody dared speak out against his iron rule, not after the destruction of those who attempted to overthrow him. Surely, there had been small pockets of rebellion that would crop up on occasion. He allowed them to exist for a small measure of time, then he would stomp them out with overwhelming force.
His smile widened a fraction of a centimeter when his mind recalled the time he and his apprentice decimated the Twi''lek rebellion on Ryloth a few years ago. The sheer raw physical power of Darth Vader coupled with his mastery of the Dark Side led to the utter obliteration of the repulsive aliens. His disgust with the Twi''lek race added more fuel to the fire of his anger, allowing more control of the darkness to be given to him. Grabbing hold of the darkness, he peered into the minds of his advisers and slithered into their minds like a worm trying to find its way to the core of a fruit. He scoured their minds on a daily basis, browsing through the minds of his ''trusted'' advisers to find those who held any thoughts of disloyalty.
While filtering through the minds of his own people, he thought back to one of his early teachings under his own master, a teaching he once revealed to a young Jedi Knight by the name of Anakin Skywalker: All those who gain power fear to lose it. He did fear to lose his power, he did not shy away from that fact. That is why he took care with every move he made, every plan he enacted was calculated to the minute detail. That fear is what gave him his power both in the Force and the Empire.
His power was wholly rooted in fear, and it was through fear that he gained his apprentice. By preying upon Skywalker''s fears, and using his weakness against him, Palpatine gained the most powerful Force Sensitive in history as his apprentice. Yet . . . the Force seemed to love to throw a hydrospanner in his plans. What was once a mobile and agile whirlwind of raw power and blazing light had burned and crumbled into a stalwart wall of pure darkness, using pure strength to destroy all that opposed him, all who opposed the rage-filled durasteel wall known as Darth Vader.
The Dark Lord of the Sith and Emperor of the known galaxy opened his eyes, a look of surprise in the sickly yellow irises. And he was hardly surprised. A ripple in the Force occurred, its presence sending out waves of power. Only once had he felt such a disturbance before, two decades ago. Immediately, he searched with the Force to find the source of the disturbance, the echoes in its wake easy to follow.
Traces of both light and darkness could be felt at the source of the disturbance, both sides of the Force swirling in constant war with one another. Sadly, he could not pinpoint precisely where the disturbance occurred but thankfully, he recognized the presence of Darth Vader, lingering close to the disturbance.
The thought crossed his mind that Vader was the cause of the disturbance but he quickly pushed away such a notion, for the light held a grip on the disturbance and Lord Vader had not a trace of light inside him. He was nothing but pure hate and anger, bringing about fear with a glance. Letting out a sigh in dismay, he continued his meditation. Whatever caused the disturbance, he thought, Lord Vader shall deal with it promptly. Little did he know, another powerful Force user felt the disturbance as well. A short and old green Jedi whose mastery of the Force was on par with the Emperor.
Location: The Swamps of Dagobah
Ex-Grandmaster Yoda sat on a large stone in the middle of an expansive lake that stretched on for miles. Mist from the bog swirled around him as he meditated, clearing his mind of all emotion. He was the epitome of peace as his wrinkled green face slackened as his breathing slowed. He too reached out with the Force and began to perceive the sentients around him. Wild animals such as lizards and snakes along with larger animals lived on the swamps of Dagobah. But it was not these lesser life forms that caused him to come to Dagobah, rather it was the planet''s natural connection to the Force.
The Jedi had once called such a planet, a Force Nexus. A place where the Force could be felt stronger than in other areas of the galaxy. The now destroyed Jedi Temple was one such place. His ears drooped just a tad at remembering the sight of the old home of the Jedi. The last time he saw it, it was in flames with smoke rolling off it like a smokestack in the industrial sector on Coruscant. Shaking his head to clear away such antiquated memories, the small being began to draw on the Force, or rather what the Jedi called the Light Side. Instantly, he felt peace wash over him, the chorus of guttural noise the many animals of the swamp bellowed into the air vanished as his mind became one with the Force.
Through meditation, Yoda learned of ways to commune with those long dead, or rather a certain Jedi who retained his sense of self after becoming one with the Force: Qui-Gon Jinn. His body still on Dagobah, Yoda''s spirit came into a realm of endless space. It was here that the realm of the dead and the realm of the living converged, creating a space for the two to converse and meet without Qui-Gon having to visit Yoda in person. Yoda stood patiently, his gimmer stick placed in front of him. Thankfully, he did not have to wait long as he soon saw Qui-Gon shimmer into existence, the faint blue glow that usually surrounded him in the living world around him was absent in this realm.
Yoda bowed his head in respect to the powerful being before him. "A while it has been, Master Jinn," he said in his odd backward speech.
The bearded Jedi smiled warmly. "That it has, my old friend. I was thinking of visiting you earlier but I was preoccupied with my former apprentice."
A look of understanding washed over Yoda''s aged face as he said the name of Qui-Gons'' old apprentice."Obi-Wan . . . Well he is?" asked Yoda.
Qui-gon nodded in confirmation. "Yes, and from what he told me, young Skywalker is as reckless as his father was at his age. Nearly wrecked one of his uncles'' speeders the other day in a race," he said with a knowing smile. Being a part of the Force, Qui-Gon had seen the event for himself and he thought it was quite humorous seeing Owen Lars chew out Luke for such a reckless act. It reminded him of Obi-Wan and Anakin a little bit.
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Yoda gave a small chuckle, for he had a similar thought. "Skywalkers, always reckless they are," he said, a pained look in his eye. ''Too reckless, perhaps'', he thought.
Qui-gon cleared his throat, bringing Yoda''s thoughtful gaze back to him. "I visited Obi-Wan not too long ago," he stated as he put his hands behind his back. "And he is very close to achieving our goal. I fear though, that his grief will be the roadblock that will stop him from gaining immortality through death."
"Guilt you say? A troubled mind Obi-Wan must not have, if to keep watch over Luke he is," said Yoda, his lips pursed together in a frown.
Qui-Gon opened his mouth to say something else but a warm yet cool gust of wind blew through the endless space. All color drained from Qui-Gon''s face as it passed through his body with the whispers of the light and dark riding on the currents. Yoda too felt the odd sensation as it passed through him, a look of surprise rather than dread adorned his face.
Yoda looked to Qui-Gon for answers as to what just happened, his stare said everything.
"There has been a disturbance in the Force," Jinn informed him, a serious look on his face. "Not of death, but of rebirth. One that I knew would come but . . . now of all the times? I still fail to understand the Force''s reasons. Even in death, I still learn its mysteries only to find more questions than answers."
"Hmmm...trust in the Force, we must." was Yoda''s grave reply.
Qui-gon nodded and looked off in the distance. "This . . . disturbance is not unlike the one at the start of the Clone War . . . Surely you recall what happened?"
The shorter of the two rubbed the top of his gimmer stick with one of his three fingers, its smooth wood grain helped him focus. Just like how some beings rubbed their chin or folded their arms to think, Yoda had his walking stick.
Slowly, his memories were illuminated with realization. It seemed like ages ago the Clone War began yet there was one event that stuck out in particular. One he kept secret from everyone he knew.
"It has begun. The cycle has started." said Qui-Gon, walking away into the space between realms. "I will go to Obi-Wan immediately. I am certain he felt the disturbance as well."
Once Qui-gon dissipated into the white expanse, Yoda began to fade as well. His spirit was being recalled back into his physical body. Before he dissipated entirely, Yoda thought for a moment.
Every time the name Obi-Wan was mentioned, another name came up hiding in its shadow: Darth Vader. Fear made of the coldest snow from Hoth entered his veins, sending a shiver through his aging body. To think, if Vader was anywhere near the disturbance . . . It would be disastrous. Unbeknownst to him, Darth Vader had felt the disturbance more strongly than anyone else. It originated on his own vessel after all.
Location: Outer Rim- The Maverick, Imperator class Star Destroyer
Yet another body fell onto the dull metal gray floor of the bridge, the heavy thud catching the attention of all the techs who sat at their monitors in the comm pits. Lord Vader stood not but thirty feet away from the cooling body of what was once the Admiral of the Maverick. He turned his attention to the officer standing a few inches away from the corpse, fear covered his features as the skull-like mask of his superior stared at him for a brief moment.
"Commander Veritts, you are now in command of this vessel," he said, his voice booming in the silence. "Find the source of the temporary systems failure and send a detachment to the area it emanated from. I have reason to believe a rebel saboteur attempted to cripple this vessel. Find them and detain them.."
The newly promoted Admiral Verrits swallowed hard, his sandy blonde bangs underneath his gray hat stuck to his forehead due to the sweat that seeped from his pores.
"Y-yes my Lord! It will be done," he said, saluting the Dark Lord. But the seven foot monstrosity of flesh and cybernetics was already stomping past him over the body of his predecessor.
Darth Vader could faintly hear the new Admiral bark out orders to the techs that sat in their areas, ordering them to do the bidding of their superior.
Truth be told, Vader knew the source of the systems failure that sent the ship adrift in space. It was offline for a few minutes until the ship roared back to life. He could sense the waves that were sent out from the disturbance in the Force taken physical form as electrical pulses. He remembered feeling the Force wash over him before the pulses hit him. Thankfully, the electrical charge was minor, only shortening his life giving respirator for but a minute until his suit booted it back up.
In the winding halls of the Maverick, the Sith Lord moved past lines of stormtroopers, their white armor polished to reflect the overhead white lights. The ship was a hive of activity, all the men were on edge after the sudden power outage. Whispers already started to fill the groups of maintenance crews and troopers with gossip of a rebel attempt to kill Darth Vader himself. There was also talk of a failed attempt of a coup, leading to the death of the former admiral.
''Let them think what they will, it matters not. A little lie to keep them from knowing what really happened will hurt nobody''.
The reason why he killed the old admiral was due to the miscalculated jump to hyperspace, landing them in the system of Tatoo. Far too close to Tatooine for his taste. The miscalculation could have been attributed to the disturbance itself Vader realized. It may not have been the Admiral''s fault for the error, but someone had to pay for the failure either way. Going down one corridor, Vader noticed some of the lights overhead were flickering, one even throwing sparks onto the gray floor. Despite the ship recovering quickly, minor systems still had yet to come back online, along with some physical systems being short circuited.
Stalking the hallways, Vader made his way to his quarters, taking the many twists and turns to come up to the large blast door of the entrance to his quarters. Two stormtroopers stood guard on either side of the blast door standing straighter and more alert when they saw the Sith round the corner.
"Lord Vader." they said in unison as the door opened for him. Entering his quarters, Vader passed by the workbench at his left and made way to the hyperbaric medical chamber in the center of the large room. The chamber reminded himself of the jaws of a metal beast, the top and bottom clamps that latched together were like square metal teeth. Sitting in the chair, the chamber automatically registered his presence and proceeded to close slowly. The clamps were close to being completely shut when the comlink on his belt chimed.
Pressing a button on his chair, the hyperbolic chamber reversed its actions as Vader''s gloved hand brought the commlink up to his face. Pressing the side of the disk shaped holoprojector, the commlink synced with the projector and brought up a blue miniature of Admiral Veritts.
"Admiral, pray for your sake that you are not wasting my time," Vader growled. If the Admiral was frightened, he did a good job at hiding it.
"My Lord, we found the source of the system failure. We traced the point of origin for the pulse to engineering, in the cooling room for the ion engines. The scanners also picked up a heat signature, one that does not belong. The rebel is still inside. . . I am about to send a squad from the bridge down there to investigate."
Vader gave a small nod in acceptance. The plan was good but the amount of time it would take for a squad to arrive at the engine cooling room would allow the rebel time to escape, if he hadn''t already.
"Well done Verrits. However, send the two guards who are posted closest to the room. The ones by the turbolift connecting all the levels of engineering."
"Very well. I will see to it immediately," said the Admiral, breaking eye contact with Darth Vader for a second to look out of the projection''s field of view. "Ensign, call up engineering and find out who those guards are."
Looking back at the helmeted face of Vader, the blonde man nodded and bowed slightly before canceling the call.
Lord Vader sat in silence for a moment. His helmet allowing no emotion to show through.
Inside, he was a calm yet simmering volcano of anger. He touched the fire that was his anger and embraced it into his hand, directing it to obey him. With the fire that was the Dark Side, Vader let himself go. He had always hated to meditate as a Jedi, but now his thoughts did not have to be cleared, rather they had to be focused onto singular things and using his emotions to fuel the Force. Reaching out to the disturbance''s point of origin, all he could sense was swirling waves of both the light and the darkness of the Force. All aspects of the Force, surrounding a person. Someone who held the Force inside of them, a conduit of power not unlike the now dead Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker.
Yet it was untrained, and unfocused hence the waves rolling off the life form. The Force particularly favored this person, the Dark Lord realized as he moved his mind to intrude upon the thoughts of the ''disturbance''. This realization came to light when he attempted to worm his way into the lifeforms mind, the Force itself bloomed outwards and ripped free from the Sith''s grasp. For the first time in eleven years, the Dark Side failed to obey its self-proclaimed master. Anger began to surround Vader, anger at the Force for having a will of its own and at this person. This person that had caused such a large disturbance both on his ship and the Force, who was an unknown variable in the grand scheme of things.
One that, Vader hoped, would help bring further order to the Empire.
Chapter 2: Fuck Mondays
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 2: Fuck Mondays
"You fear what you cannot control. Master Jedi, lifeforms are all the same. Greed, fear, all of it is a universal truth that your kind denies."
Location: The Maverick- Engine Cooling Room Entrance
The Imperial Stormtrooper designated TK-421 had his armored back against the wall, his E-11 blaster held up in both hands as he looked to his fellow stormtrooper across from him. They both had gotten commed from the Admiral that they had located the origin point of the electric pulse. He had informed them that the techs up on the bridge ran a heat scan on the room and due to the cold temperatures in the room, a single heat signature was found. Which meant the rebel scum was still inside, probably lying in wait to ambush whoever came to find him. Oddly enough, Verrits ordered them to set their blasters for stun.
When TK-421 objected, the Admiral gave him a cold glare and said: "I am acting on Lord Vader''s orders. Would you like to voice your opinion, trooper? I am certain he would not bat an eyelash killing you for disobedience. Now, do it."
Now, they were ready to breach the room that held the rebel scum inside. His fellow guard nodded quickly before turning even quicker into the room, its sliding door already opening by the time the muzzle of his blaster came to point at the room. The room itself was bathed in an eerie green glow as green coolant flowed in clear tubes along the walls and ceiling. There were a few crates in the room, each one holding a means of repair in case of a leak. TK-421 was glad his suit had its own air conditioning system, otherwise he was certain he would turn into a shivering icicle the moment he stepped a foot in the room. Looking around, he spotted a body on the floor, the torso leaning against one of the blue crates. His buddy was kneeling down on one knee, getting a closer look at the rebel, his hand pressed against the side of his helmet as he placed his blaster down.
"Admiral, this is DY-1138 reporting in from the cooling room..." said TK-421s fellow guard, his conversation getting blocked out as TK switched his internal comm off.
Now bathed in the green light, the stormtrooper took a good hard look at the rebel. ''Boy more like'' he corrected, observing his features. The boy, no older than twenty, had brown hair or black from what he could tell with the light tinting everything. The hair being buzzed and cut short did not help the deduction to be sure. His attire was a black mesh jacket made to ward off the rain yet stylish in its look. Underneath the jacket was a blue shirt that had no sort of markings, just a simple shirt. He wore rugged pants that were baggy, its color blending into the light of the coolant.
His shoes had no laces, they were just black form fitting footwear. The kid''s face was just like his attire, nothing really noteworthy. His skin was a light tan, his cheekbones were quite prominent and his jawline seemed to have been drawn at a forty five degree angle. Observation over, he saw his friend pick up the rebel, throwing his unconscious form over his shoulder.
Turning his internal com back on, he asked: "Well, what did the Admiral say?"
"He said to put him in the brig. I ran a med test on him and sent the data back to ''im. The rebels'' blind, probably from the pulse bomb he used." replied DY-1138, shifting the so-called rebel that was slung over his shoulder. TK walked out of the room in silence, followed by his comrade.
There was an important tidbit of information he left out, there was no bomb to be found in the room. The scanners in his helmet couldn''t find any trace evidence of such a device. Which left the question in DY-1138s'' mind, what happened in that room? But he was expected to be a voiceless grunt of a trooper who did not question authority. Following orders was his job, so he planned to do it. Stopping at the lift, the door opened and the two men went into the lift. TK punched the button inside the turbolift to head up to the detention center, where the Admiral was waiting to question the brown haired rebel.
Location: Unknown
I felt nothing. I saw nothing. I smelt nothing. My senses were void, my thoughts were blank. I felt like I did not exist yet I retained a small amount of consciousness. In truth, I shouldn''t exist. Not anymore, after what happened. But what exactly did happen? I could not tell you, even if I knew I probably would not wish to talk about it or think about it. Is that why I could not recall what had transpired to leave me in this state of limbo? Perhaps this feeling of being nothing is a way of punishment, for some unspeakable sin I had committed.
Yet I know something had occurred, something important. So, my entire existence is whittled down to nothing, end of story right? Fate seemed to have other plans. One moment I''m in complete bliss, the next all of my senses explode.
My lungs gasped for air while my body felt its chilly sting. I breathed in and out rapidly as I shot up from whatever I was laying on. My hands latched onto the side of what I realized was a metal bench that I had substituted for a bed, the material felt slick under my touch. After a few moments, my body returned to its normal breathing pattern along with my heart, who had felt the need to try to thump over a million times a minute.
Silence followed my awakening for only a few minutes, I was lost in my thoughts. I was unsure as to where I was. I could not see, the room was as black as could be, there was not a speck of light to be seen. Perhaps I had been kidnapped? No, I was of no importance although there were those who would say otherwise. Most of those being my family. I thought about them for a second.
I knew in a way that I had a family, and I loved them. I knew I had aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins but...I knew nothing else about them. It was like there was something preventing me from recalling anything about my past. At least anything specific about my past. It is the past that defines who you are in the present after all, but without a past I have no sense of self. In a way, I am the same way I was before awakening in this dark place: an empty husk. I inhaled and exhaled out of my lungs, the cool air almost choking me where I sat. I needed answers, but more importantly I had to find a way out of here. I knew I was in a room due to the fact the bench-bed was welded to the wall but other than that I could not tell how big it was or where the exit was due to the darkness.
I blinked a few times to keep my eyes from drying out in the cold room, the air drying out the edges of the eyeballs. I brought my hand up to my eye and closed it, rubbing my eye to try to help get whatever was in it out. In the silent darkness I stopped what I was doing, I could swear the was someone watching me. I could just...feel it. I could not explain it but I could somehow tell there was someone out of this room, waiting to act. A shiver ran down my spine and my palms got sweaty. I could tell whoever was outside of these walls had a small vendetta against me, their anger was kept in control under strict discipline. The logical side of my brain reeled back in surprise, what I just learned should be impossible.
Being able to tell others emotions without even knowing they are in the room with you, let alone without seeing them and getting the vibe from the posture and language of the subject. But the other side of me was simply in awe, almost in childlike wonder. The impossible just became possible within the span of a few seconds.
I let out a short breath and tried to concentrate on the person outside the walls of my little room but my mind hardly took a step in that direction when an odd sound filled the room. It sounded mechanical, like metal clamping down onto another piece of metal but with a cushion of air so that there was not too loud of bang. I simply figured a door had opened. Puzzling enough, I did not see any light that would come from an opening nor see the person that I felt enter the room.
Is this entire place built for people that can see in the dark? Or maybe they are blind so that they can see through hearing I thought to myself.
My ears picked up the sound of boots hitting the metal floor, each pace measured to keep in rhythm with the next. It was at that moment that I realized, when the person stopped right in front of me, that I had every single one of my senses back.
They were all back except one. Now I knew why everything was so dark, why I did not see the light streaming out from the opening and closing door and why I did not see the being standing before me now. I couldn''t. I just couldn''t see.
I...I''m blind. I realized, too afraid to speak the words out loud lest they reinforce this new reality. I felt my heart begin to race as an amalgamation of emotion poured through me. Fear was chief among them, followed by a mix of anger and sadness along with a tiny pinch of disbelief to add flavor. But before I could allow the most basic of emotions to rule me, I stowed them away and compartmentalized. That was one aspect from my past that I had kept, I was focused. I knew what had to be done to achieve a goal. Did I always do it? No, of course not. But the times I did, was when I shined the brightest. Or, I''d like to think sp. And now was one of those times. Looking up to what I hoped was the face of the person in front of me, I opened my mouth to speak but I was cut off before even a vibration left my vocal chords.
"Young man, it is good to see you have finally awoken.", came the voice from the abysmal darkness.
Instantly I evaluated the voice''s accent and tone. The speaker was male, his heavy accent had given him a well mannered air about him.
Most likely in charge of wherever I am, I figured. The man was disciplined, from the way he spoke each of his words in a calculated way to the way he kept his own anger at me under control. The man continued to speak while I had thought up my assessment.
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"Now that you are able to be coherent, could you inform me as to how you arrived here?" he asked, his tone calm and even.
I smirked and gave a small chuckle, thinking of the irony of what he just asked me.
"Is something funny child?" he questioned, most likely quirking up an eyebrow.
I could tell he was slightly flustered with my deflection of his question, so I answered him plainly.
"Well, yeah. I mean, I would tell you how I got here if I knew exactly where I was!" I said, a little bit of bite added to the end of my sentence to add credibility that I truthfully did not know where I was. Because, well, I had no damn clue.
The man stayed silent for a second, pondering what I said and how to reply correctly. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he answered.
"Very well. I should have figured there would be further complications aside from the blindness. We are currently aboard the Maverick, an Imperator class Star Destroyer, in cell-block 7156." he informed me, "And you, are the rebel saboteur who attempted to cripple my vessel."
"I don''t remember doing such a thing." I said, ignoring his comments about my lack of sight.
"Admiral." I added it as an afterthought. I may as well give the guy the respect he deserves, it might just help my standing since I am labeled a freaking terrorist for all intents and purposes.
The unnamed, faceless admiral let out a heavy sigh.
"That is likely due to the...electromagnetic ion pulse you used to scramble the Mavericks electronics. The ion radiation emitted from the device you used may be the cause for your lack of memory, given that you were in the small room you set it off in. There have been accounts of such things before. The high electrical currents can do quite a number as you can see..or not in your case." he said, a bit too smugly. I could practically feel the little smile on his over confident face. I returned one of my own, with a little flame of agitation in my voice I asked yet another question.
"Do you have any evidence to support your claims, Admiral?"
I was curious to be honest, that was why I let my mouth widen a little in shock when the high ranking naval officer gave the clipped reply that started with a n and ended with an o.
I opened my mouth to say some smart remark but the man beat me to the punch, just like when this conversation started.
"We found you in the same room the pulse originated from. You were unconscious with no identification, no markings, no chain is hardly a solid foundation to label you a rebel terrorist. I understand that perfectly, so in a way we have no hard evidence against you. However, you are here without proper authorization or clearance, therefore you will remain a prisoner until we can determine your identity."
With that he spun on his boots heel and made the walk back to the metal door, talking as the thuds bounced off the walls.
"Oh, do not believe yourself victorious. My..superior has means of prying information from even the strongest minds. He will unlock your befuddled memory and will learn the truth about you." he said, stopping once the door opened but did not walk out into the rest of the brig. Rather, he turned his neck to look at me over his shoulder, I had no idea I knew, I just...could tell.
"And you, rebel scum, shall beg for death by the end."
With that, the Admiral of the Maverick left me in the darkness of my cell.
I shuddered at the thought of who his superior was, I could practically smell the fear pouring off of him when he mentioned the person who was over him. I shoved those thoughts away, I''d rather not think about my obviously upcoming interrogation. I knew it would not be a simple Q like what had just happened between me and the nameless Admiral. I was afraid of what would come next but at the same time, I knew it could not be the worst thing I would endure in my life.
I had nothing to do, no memories to think about since I had no way to access them. Just facts without feeling. I was on a ship, labeled a terrorist and a stowaway. The commanding officer was a man to be feared and his subordinate Admiral has a bone to pick with me since I supposedly damaged his beloved Star Destroyer. For some odd reason, every time I thought those two words, I had a feeling I should know what it is but my mind was unable to recall just why it seemed familiar.
Soon enough though, my brief memory block would be crushed when I felt a dark presence embrace the room I was in. I could feel the unrelenting rage and anger kept under a cool and unfeeling demeanor. This presence was cold and calculating, easy to anger but hard to please.
When the door slid open, the noise that met my ears told me everything I needed to know. The deep, rasping breaths of a built in respirator. The measured breaths spelt death for hundreds and thousands of life forms. My mind''s eye brought an image to the front, the embodiment of death itself. The black cape that absorbed all light that hit it, the skull like helmet that sent fear with but a glance. The black suit and control box was just as iconic, with those who saw this being left with the question if he was a man, or a machine. I knew who had just entered the room, the lock on my memories was shaken, letting loose a small droplet before the dam finally gushed forth in a torrential tidal wave. All it took was the whisper of a single word to return them, the whisper that came out of my mouth.
"Vader." I whispered. The dam broke in that instance, the block on my mind crumbling under the flood of memories. A great fear welled up inside of me, my body running cold as images flashed by.
Images of my childhood at home, with my siblings in the yard, plastic swords of green, blue and red in our hands as we pretended to be in one of our most favorite movies of all time: Star Wars.
Realization hit me like a flying car with jet engines on its hood, those toys were not swords but toy lightsabers. Another image flashed by as I remembered all the scenes in the movies, shows and video games based on Star Wars that I imprinted into my memory. Obi-Wan blocked a flurry of strikes from Darth Maul''s saber staff, rage fueling his defense. Yaddle confronting a young Count Dooku after the death of his beloved Padawan. Anakin and his master facing Dooku on the Invisible Hand, the yet to be Emperor smiling with satisfaction. Ahsoka standing amongst the ashes of the Clone Wars. Starkiller getting stabbed from behind and betrayed by Darth Vader. Kanan Jarrus facing down the Grand Inquisitor, a blue bladed saber in each hand. Luke Skywalker railing blow after blow on a weakened Vader, anger apparent in his face. Finishing it off, a red cross guarded saber and a legendary blue one intersecting in a snowy forest.
I remembered watching these scenes at my home, some times with my friends at their house. I always wondered what it would be like to live in a galaxy far far away and experience it for myself. It would be a dream come true. Yet, now that I am here. It''s more like a nightmare now, considering what era I''m in. An era of darkness and fear where good is stamped out and burned away. My hands clench up as I try to steady my breathing, noting the cold sticky sweat that is coalescing in my palms.
The automatic door shut behind the Sith Lord as he walked into the cell I occupied. His seven foot asthmatic body had to duck his cranium into my cell, considering he had to do the same to enter Leia''s cell on the Death Star. My eyes widened slightly when I realized a very important fact. I had all this information to use to either help or harm this universe. I knew what happened here in this room could change the course of the entire galaxy. It could be for the better or worse, and I did not want to take that chance..
Vader cannot find out what I know. He just can''t. I thought, and instantly I clamped my mind shut. Gathering all the flooded memories and throwing them back into the dam that was the block to those memories. I could still access them but I had to make sure to keep from doing so. Already I could feel Vader trying to poke around in my mind, skimming my surface thoughts. Another thought hit me.
How can I even tell that he is in my mind? I just could not explain it. It was the same way how I could sense the Admiral outside of my room and his hidden feelings. I could just...feel it, it was hard to explain.
I gulped when the Dark Lord''s presence encompassed the entire room, the temperature dropping even further. Goosebumps riddled my skin the moment his booming voice rang out into the room.
"It is the Force." he stated, answering my unsaid question. His unforgettable voice reverberated through the room with a light echo, the modulation adding the hint of a synthetic mask to it. He took a step toward my sitting form, the Dark Lord''s presence resembling a controlled hurricane of raging emotions.
"I sense fear. Fear of me. And yet you told Admiral Verrits that you have no memory. Why did you lie to the Admiral?" he demanded, his voice getting dangerously low like a rumbling of rocks down a mountain side. A near inaudible click was heard, followed by the iconic snap-hiss of a lightsaber. The blade hummed.
"Answer truthfully, and you will be left with your life."
A sudden burst of confidence filled me as I stood up from my bench, looking straight up at where I guessed his helmeted mug was.
"Make me." I said, narrowing my blinded eyes with a tone that said I was not up for this bantha shit.
Yeah, big mistake.
The next thing I knew, I was slammed into the wall by an unseen force, the pressure around my body felt like it was trying to indent me into the wall. The pressure was intense, I swore I could feel my bones begin to crack.
The now furious Sith held his arm forward, his prosthetic gloved hand now forming a fist. My eyes widened when I felt the air begin to leave my lungs followed by my windpipe forcefully start to close.
My vision began to fill with green, blue and yellow spots, a near welcomed change from the constant darkness. Too bad it was due to the asphyxiation I was in the process of experiencing.
"Give me the answers I seek!" he demanded, loosening his grip on my throat.
I swallowed as the air returned to my lungs, my breathing slightly faster than it should be.
I let out a sigh before answering.
"I did not lie, Vader." I said, my previous attempt at defiance instilling a slight sense of fear. This man will kill me, and I sure as hell don''t want to die. "I had no memory until you got here! You sort of...unlocked them somehow?...I dunno anything else other than my name." Yet again I lied. I held memories but I did not think about them, in fear of him searching my mind and finding them, altering the course of history.
Vader said nothing for a second or two, his blade humming at his side.
"I swear, I know nothing else." I said, feeling a chill run down my spine as I felt him enter my mind yet again.
He was like a predator, looking for prey in a dead snowy forest in the midst of winter. And like a wolf he let out a growl of rage and brought his blade up and stabbed it into my kneecap. The pain was blinding as it stayed in my leg, burning the bone and flesh, searing it together with the energy of the laser. I let out a cry of pain, hissing as the burn seemed to affect my entire leg. I could feel the pain throughout my entire body. It hurt, bad. Imagine putting hot coals into a bullet wound then add some salt and pepper. I''m sure to a cannibal the thought would be tasty but it fucking hurt like nobody''s business.
"I will learn the truth that you continue to hide in the recesses of your mind. I already know what you are. You are no rebel. In fact, you do not even belong in this galaxy. I peered into your mind after you caused a disturbance in the Force. The disturbance that crippled this ship briefly, and the disturbance swirls around you even now. The Force itself protects you, shielding you from my attempts to enter your mind. I was able to glean one lone fact about just who you are..." he told me, much to my surprise. Hell, today was just full of surprises!
Oh, and here is another one: he began to choke me yet again. Yeah...not much of a surprise but honestly, the pain from the laser sword in my knee made me want to focus on rambling and anything but the pain...yeah not much luck there. My vision began to get invaded by blobs of various colors, My senses started to dim, Darth Vader''s breathing began to get quieter as my body slowly lost all feeling. Before I lost all connection to the waking world, Vader finished his revelation.
"You are Alonzo Revanche, and now a servant of the Empire." he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, wrenching his blade free of my knee and allowing my body to fall straight onto the floor. I could feel the floor rushing up to meet my head and my last thought before I smacked into it was: I fucking hate Mondays.
Chapter 3: First Painful Steps
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 3: First Painful Steps
"Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny."
Location: The Maverick, Medical Wing 1A-2
Darth Vader looked down at the text filling the screen of the data pad he had received, his glossy armor illuminated with a light blue glow, the information on it were simple receipts about the testing that had been done on the young man. Countless tests, from hundreds of different worlds diseases, viruses, rare transmittable ones and common infections. The droid had performed all of them before Alonzo was placed inside of the healing waters of the bacta tank, and now with the results Vader cared not about the tests except one: the midichlorian he was getting slightly annoyed, having to scroll past one negative after another negative, after another, and more negatives to get down to what he needed.
The dark lord of the Sith could have very well asked the droid itself, knowing that more than likely it was within its memory banks. He enjoyed the peace and quiet for the moment. He knew what would be coming next. Finally finding the information he transferred it over to a small data strip that he kept on his person and handed the data pad back to the medical droid.
Vader felt a small jolt not perceivable by most beings and gave a ghost of a smile from underneath his helmet. The Maverick had arrived at its destination, the hyperspace jump was complete. With that realization in tow, he turned his attention to the Droid designated M6-DC2,
"Remove the patient within an hour. Inform the Admiral when you have.", he commanded, turning toward the medical bay''s entry door. The droid''s legs shuffled in place to turn as Vader moved.
"My Lord, I must protest. The rebel needs at least 4 hours for his wounds to fully recover.", M6''s voice modulator sounding gruff and mechanical with a tinge of a hollow echo. The droid was following its'' programming. All members aboard the Maverick were to receive full treatment of wounds, trauma and replacement appendages if applicable.
His weighted steps did not falter. Many physical tests awaited the living quandary that floated peacefully in the liquid filled cylinder behind him. Fighting through the pain, an injury was the start. A swipe of his hand, and the door opened.
"Do as you are commanded droid," Vader stated, having halted at the exit that led into a long corridor that spread across the ship. "You are easily replaceable."
And with those parting words, Darth Vader made his way to the bridge, pulling out his commlink.
He had a call to make.
Location: The Maverick, Mess Hall 3C
TK-421 was not in the best shape. He was famished, his feet were tired and sore, and he was pretty sure there was a blister on the back of his ankle where the armor rubbed in a bad way. The climate control in his suit was malfunctioning and he hardly slept last night. Rumors had made their rounds: the Rebel was interrogated by Darth Vader and lived! 421 could hardly believe it, he refused to. He had seen the smallest of mistakes cost the lives of several officers above his pay grade. He knew what kind of man? Machine? That Darth Vader was. Sleep evaded his grasp when he tried to find it, his mind racing of the possibilities. Perhaps the rebel had cut a deal? Maybe it was just a ruse, a drill in disguise. No, Imperial personnel were informed afterwards. Such thoughts raced through his mind, and they did in the moment, until he was brought out of his stupor by a loud screech.
"Next!", the old bat screeched out from behind the counter. She was human, ancient by TK''s standards given the creases and folds in the woman''s face. He hoped the standard fare of some form of food would help his mood. It certainly wasn''t great, but it was better than nothing. TK-421 brought his tray along the line, grabbed a bowl of something that looked okay and had steam coming off it. Then, as with every meal, he grabbed a meiloorun fruit from the bowls at the end of the food line.
"Thanks Maqiora.", he mumbled as he took a small bite from the fruit. It was drier than usual, but had some good flavor. A little twangy with a hint of citrus to counter a mildly bitter aftertaste. He preferred the juice, but he preferred a lot of things right now.
''At least there''s something that is real here'', the young trooper thought to himself as he turned and looked at the cafeteria. It was mostly empty, given the ''time'' of day. A few scant troopers here or there at the edges, one officer with his hat on the table, boots up while drinking some caffe. He spied a chair nearby at the edge of a table, close enough to the line to grab another fruit if he was feeling extra adventurous.
Plopping himself into the metal chair, with said material scraping against the plasteel armor panels, the man removed his helmet and placed it in the chair next to him. Black hair spilled onto his back, and his blue eyes adjusted to the light. His field of vision definitely improved, but the lighting severely worsened his mood as he groaned in annoyance. "Why is it always Atunda''s?" he said out loud, bringing the spoon to his lips.
"What the hell is an Atunda?", questioned a voice nearby. The trooper looked to his side, his left, and his right. There was nobody there. The voice was young, maybe younger than him. Blue eyes darted around, but the area was empty for at least a hundred yards. TK knew the effects of limited sleep, he had experienced them before when he used to stay up all night watching holo-vids but this was¡unusual. The voice was everywhere and also in his own head. He rubbed his left eye with his free hand, let out a sigh and tallied it up to sleep deprivation. He hoped his next assignment would allow for a better rotation schedule. And with one reluctant hand, he began to eat whatever passed for food among the Imperial ranks.
Location: Tatooine, The Dune Sea
"Obi-Wan."
That was his name, though it was missing the ''Kenobi'' to the end of it. The Force called out to him, as it had many times before. It took the shape of his old master, manifesting itself in voice and visage. It, no he- was a comforting sight.
"You are late master.". Ben spoke in a matter of fact tone. Ben. The name he gave himself when he failed and fled the rising Empire. It was the name of a ghost, a resolute protector and to his long dead master: a friend.
The apparition of Qui-Gon Jinn gave a little laugh. Of course his new perspective on things made time irrelevant, distances became meaningless, and his understanding of the Force even deeper than before. And the lines etched in the forehead of his former pupils were far deeper than he remembered, and the hair on his head was fully white. Yet far removed from the worldly tethers, Qui-Gon sees past the linear degradation that time burdened Obi-Wan with. The man had been a general, a student, a master and a son, to him but Qui-Gon never had the chance to truly say it. Even with the words he could use, he felt it best to wait for Obi-Wan to join him, where the crude manner of communication was null and void, and their wills diffused within the Force. Such a time was not far off, he hoped. However, he was here for another matter entirely.
"You felt it.", Qui-Gon stated, avoiding the other man''s dry humor. There was no use asking if Kenobi felt the disturbance, yet a line of communication and a starting point for discussion was needed.
Blue eyes flickered up from a small machine in Ben''s hands. The world around the apparition began to clear, as his form centered itself more clearly in the physical realm. They were inside Ben''s home, the man sitting on a pillow in the center, surrounded by parts of a machine and a toolbox next to him.
"I did."
An old hand twisted two wires together as the other brought a plasma torch to it, igniting and fusing the copper ends within the soft rubber tubing.
"And you are not curious as to where it was given shape?"
"I have a duty to watch over Luke, and if I don''t fix this blasted moisture evaporator soon¡then I will not be alive long enough to be curious of any lifeform.", Obi-Wan said as one of the parts he inserted into another gave a shocking spark of feedback.
"You have no inclination as to know what your former apprentice is doing?"
"Anakin is dead, Darth Vader told me years ago." replied the younger of the two.
What he said was true, from a certain point of view. Even speaking that statement brought so many memories and feelings. That broken, distorted voice of his brother mixed with that of a monster, confirming his worst fears and yet it was a comforting thing. He had at the time believed he failed the entire Jedi Order, his student and the promise he made to Qui-Gon.
''Anakin is gone.'', whispered the monster. Ben felt his bones freeze, his finger letting go of the trigger connected to the plasma torch. ''I am what remains.''
The monster whispers again.
''I am not your failure Obi-Wan. You didn''t kill Anakin Skywalker. I did.'' It smiles from within the blackened shell that was Darth Vader, the monster that was Anakin Skywalker. His face was burned horrifically, the red glow of the saber gave him a vile presence.
The memory still haunts him, even after he felt he made piece. It was a struggle, some days were easier than others. And today was difficult. He was never the best with machines, he had contemplated packing the parts up and taking them to Lars, or junk it to Jawa''s for a half working replacement. He sighed and closed his eyes, centering his mind on the present, his hovel and the Force being that his old master now was.
"I meant, your other apprentice."
Location: Unknown
I could feel it. I could sense it. Everywhere, all at once. I remembered things. I knew I was somewhere on a ship. I knew I was alive, unconscious. Everything was dark, but that seemed to be my constant predicament. It was a strange thing, knowing that there was something beyond what I could feel, touch and smell. Now, with all of those sensations gone I felt it, earnestly for the first time. As if all the boundaries were ripped away, and an overwhelming flood rushed down to drown me. It surrounded me. And I reached out to it.
The Force. It had been described in so many different ways, interpreted by so many Jedi, Sith and everything in between. If I were to describe it I would simply be mixing all their interpretations into one to fit what I would say. Yet to me, I only had one word and it was beautiful. A soothing rhythm of life, echoing from every being I could feel on this ship. The heart of the Force melded with the lives around it, influencing itself and within them as though it were an ever expansive echochamber. From some, it was rebounding louder, allowing me to see small portions of the ship we were inside. It was all touched by the Force, even if it wasn''t a structure made of organic tissue, it still had a whisper of it on the surface. To me, it looked to be rays of golden light reverberating all around, mixed with blues, reds and shades of a white-ish gray. I could sense the emotions, actually see their dispositions change in tune with the vibrancy of color.
It took a moment to realize what was going on. I was seeing everything through the Force. It wasn''t perfect vision, but it was different. And I decided to push this sight a little further. I took my first tentative step into this place while I could. I would wake up sooner or later, best to explore while I had the time.
I was like a specter, a ghost drifting through the walls of the starship, able to spectate the coming and goings of those aboard but never able to interact with them directly. Or, at least I dared not try to. The mental images conjured by the idea of Imperials thinking one of their ships being haunted was certainly amusing, given the body count Darth Vader wracks up on a weekly basis. That man would undoubtedly be hounded by restless ghosts if they were a thing in this universe.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Vader¡the name elicits a small droplet of fear in me. Truthfully, I should not be afraid of him. Weary, cautious at best, but I''m not dead after that first encounter. That has to count for something, as long as I am of use to him and the Empire, I shouldn''t be absolutely terrified of him. If anything I would pity him, but he made his own disastrous choices long ago, and he''ll make one in the future that will at least redeem his soul. And then, another thought came to me.
But with me here, would I change any of that? Or am I just a nameless nobody meant to die in the backdrop? Such questions wracked my mind as I ''walked'' the halls of the ship, taking note of the way the Force permeated in the forms of organics. Some of the echoes brought glimpses of color, and shape to the armor many in my current surroundings wore. That was when I noticed something amiss.
A current of energy. Not unlike the Force and its pathways through the beings in this ship, this energy was consolidated to a central section and siphoned into the rest of the machine. It moved, it calculated, it worked. It was a droid, I came to realize. A machine that was dead to the Force, but I could still feel and sense the power source that gave it ''life'' so to speak. I watched it for quite some time, amazed at this. In that moment, everything began to catch up to me, in this ethereal space of quiet solitude. No longer in that cell, no longer bantering words with an officer or whatever he was, no longer trying to keep Darth Vader from ripping memories out of my head. It was just me.
I was alone. I am alone. Alone in a world that is familiar to me, at the surface level. The granular details of the universe I was in, I do not know. All I have is the Force, and my own knowledge of what will happen. But here I was, staring at the energy sparking through a droid in a fit of wonder. The energy was stark white at the core, where I assumed its battery was located. But in transferring to the limbs or its central processor, it changed in color. My own personal little light show, it slightly reminded me of squids when they change their color rapidly.
I should be using the Force to find my way around yet I guess I''m still a kid that likes watching odd things at heart.
A few more seconds passed by and I finally looked away from the droid, and wandered the halls again. I tried to focus more, to see if I could actively hear or maybe even read the thoughts of those I was near. I used to wonder what it would be like to have such a power, the Force that is. How would it feel to use it? How difficult would it be to lift a rock, a bag or even a car? What are its limits? Now I could finally get those answers, if I survived long enough. Being put onto the Empire''s payroll is the least ideal situation to be in, but I have to admit that it beats waking up on Nar Shadda or another shady planet. It''s almost a bit too coincidental that I happened to be on Vader''s ship. Yet the same could be argued that R2 and C-3P0 coincidentally landed in the hands of Owen. I would chalk it up to more Force nonsense and call it a day.
I stopped my ''Force Walk'' as I had decided to call it, in an area that had roughly fifteen or twenty life forms around. Some were sitting, a few were standing shoulder to shoulder in a line. And I began to focus in earnest, sensing the Force within these people, and the power that shifted around me. I deduced that if I could see vaguely through this method, I wanted to try to listen as well. The biggest hurdle was how? I was untrained, inexperienced and bumbling my way through this.
I only had snippets of lessons on using the Force that I could pull from my memory. Yoda, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Luke, Plo Koon and others came to mind as I tried to understand where to start. Feel, don''t think, concentrate and be open to the Force to allow it to guide your actions. Luke was able to deflect a few blaster bolts when blinded by a blast shield, I could say this is similar enough. I just had to try.
First came the creaking and groaning of metal, followed by the hum of the ships engines decks away. If I had ears, they would be bleeding. The engines were fine but the ship definitely needs a tune up. I instinctively recoiled and stopped my attempt. My senses were farther stretched than I had expected, and I adjusted as needed. Concentrate, I told myself, narrowing my senses as best I could. I had no accurate way of knowing how far I had pushed them previously. The din of metal melted away as the murmurs of conversations grew louder, the tapping and scrapping of eating utensils against teeth, I could hear one person eating loudly while trying to have a conversation. I concentrated on listening, attempting to pick up any conversations that were interesting. I was excited at this newfound ability, I just didn''t want to let this opportunity go to waste, nor let my emotions ruin the concentration I held.
"Did you hear that the T-46''s are getting recalled?"
Nope, boring.
"So there I was, two Correllian whiskeys in and this Twilek slides up next to me right-"
Nah, I do not want to hear about some Imps night time escapades.
"Oh really? I''m glad that Ozzik got promoted! Good for him, I knew his wookie hunting would pay off."
That''s¡.morally reprehensible and I''ll try not to get stationed on Kashyyyk any time soon., I thought to myself. I recognized the name, and it made me wonder what version of the Star Wars universe I was in.
Screeeeeeee! That grating, irritating, high pitched twisting of the ship''s metal underbelly hammered itself into my periphery yet again. I got distracted for just a fraction of a second and my focus was shifting already.
I decided to go with one person for my next trick, to see how far I can push myself and these new abilities. I''m sure with proper training I could do some cool shit, but I don''t want to push too hard and cause anything bad to happen.
I selected my target, a lone trooper at the end of the line. The Force flickered within the trooper, shifting between a deep blue and white. What that meant, I had no idea but given that most of the colors are red and blues, I''d assume it has to relate to how they''re feeling? Maybe? I heard the woman behind the counter yell for the trooper to step up, and to my surprise he spoke her name and thanked her. He turned and sat down at the nearest table, and he stayed still for a few seconds.
I took that as an opportunity to try and focus further at him, try to connect with The Force and get into his head. I saw the swirling blue and white murky form of his person stretch and a strand of it snaked towards me as I tried. It was an interesting visualization of The Force to be sure, and one I was bewildered by. Nonetheless I connected with it, and this trooper in an attempt to sift through his surface thoughts.
Nothing. It was blank, void of any commentary. I could sense him remove his helmet, hear the plastic gently tap the metal chair next to him. The man let out a slight sigh, and complained, "Why is it always Atunda''s?"
What the hell is an Atunda?, I wondered to myself. I didn''t manage to philosophize any further when I noticed I heard that echo in my own head. And it dawned on me as the trooper sat a bit straighter, looking to his left and right.
I panicked, and disconnected immediately. Fuck. I didn''t enter his mind, I linked it with mine.
What the fuck? How did I-? Further pondering would have to occur later as I felt myself being pulled away, back to where I was in the physical space. It was time to wake up. I got a glimpse of a droid and another person next to it before I re-merged with my body that was floating in a tank. I guess it was time I stopped messing around and figured out what''s next.
Location: The Maverick, Medical Wing 1A-2
It had been almost half an hour before I was finally ready to exit the med-bay. One thing, one odd and strange unexpected thing stemmed from being within the bacta tank. That was the awful smell staining the durasteel walls. Imagine bleach, mixed with a small hint of wet dog and there you have it. Strong and pungent and the worst of it: it lingered in your nose. The smell was burned into my nostrils. It was nauseating to the point of barely being able to pay attention to what instructions the medical droid was giving me.
"One stim injection every three hours for the next five standard rotations will ease the pain," said the medical droid. "Lord Vader gave specific instructions and I intend to follow them to the letter. You will be outfitted with a standard brace to set any complications with the kneecap shifting due to improper bacta saturation."
Vader wanted me out and about within the hour after arriving at wherever we were. That also meant my wounded knee wasn''t healed all the way, and it assuredly hurt like it was half-way fixed up. Even sitting on the side of a medbay bed, it was aching and tender at the slightest sensation. I''d dare not think of how it would feel without some form of painkillers or stims similar to the ones being prescribed to me.
My thumb brushed up and down, moving against the smooth metallic casing of the med kit on my lap. All of the vital stim doses were inside of the case. It would have to be something I had to either carry by hand or find a bag to put it in. There was no way I was lugging it around everywhere I went, too much of an inconvenience. But I would have to deal with it, because well- being blind was more of the current issue.
I still felt and sensed the world around me through the Force, but with all of the distractions of being in the waking world, it all ''looked'' a little fuzzy, buzzing with static of golden hues and shifting colored auras. All noise drowned out for a few brief seconds as one of these auras far away crept into my senses. It was somewhere past the ship itself. Far beyond the motion of the planet below, beyond the billions of beings living their lives resided the singular leech that drowned out their collective light.
I did not fear Vader, which I admit was something that I realized was against my better judgment¡but that thing below, that monster¡It''s mere proximity had me recoiling back, away from even attempting to reach out any closer to that snake. The Emperor, there was no way I would be meeting him so soon. Vader can''t bring me to him. I drew further inwards, returning my ''sight'' to my current surroundings and the synthetic voice finished filling me in.
"-may return in time. You will now be released from my medical care, and will be escorted to the bridge. Have a pleasant day." A swift turn of the neck was followed by a question coming from my mouth.
"My what may return in time?", I asked, following up with, "Sorry, but I just uh, was spacing out. Not used to stims I guess." An excuse with a light coat of the truth painted and bolted onto it. I had never done any drugs in this universe before. That was the truth.
"Full functionality of your leg may return in time. Reconstructive surgery may be required if it does not heal correctly. That is all.", the droid spoke in as clipped a tone as it could get. I got the message easily enough: get the fuck out ignorant meatbag.
There was a nod of understanding, a little mix of a slide and a hop off the bed and my boots impacted onto the durasteel floors with a satisfying thump. The knee-high boots and current stuffy attire was just a spare Imperial uniform given to me when I first woke up, which is a little itchy and the arms feel a little too short. Though, truthfully I have no right to complain.
In my right hand was the case holding my medical supplies, and my eyes turned towards the other being in the room. A singular stormtrooper.
"Take me to Lord Vader." I commanded, putting on my best performance. Chin high, with the back straight as can be drawn to my top height. I knew with the extra height from the boots it helped with increasing my stature, that''s why I would almost always try to buy some kind of footwear with extra inches to them: I was short dammit. Being five feet and five inches tall was not fun when you had to train or have co-workers taller than you. At least now, I could choke someone when they didn''t listen rather than have to kindly reiterate what was previously requested.
"This way.", crackled the trooper''s voice from within the cheap armored helmet. He tapped a few buttons on the side panel next to the doors. They opened with such a satisfying sound I could never get tired of it, a mix between a heavy metal clamp and the high pitched release of hydraulic steam.
I made my way to the bridge, passing by dozens of troopers, officers and a smattering of noisy droids. All the while, following this lone trooper. It was awkward, and we came up to the doors of an elevator. He pressed the button, and the doors opened. He gestured for me to enter first, and he followed suite, blaster still in both hands, finger off the trigger. I could tell he was confused, but dutiful in sticking to orders.
My stomach pulled upwards, as my legs felt weightless for a second. The elevator began moving. It was quiet. Too quiet.
"What''s your name?", I had asked the other occupant of the metal tube we were inside of.
He did not miss a beat, barking back with a sharp, "Not your concern".
I wasn''t so easily dissuaded with such a poultry attempt of shutting me down.
"Oh come on, what''s your operating number? You can at least tell me that." I pushed.
"This blaster has a stun."
I heard a faint click of a tactile button getting pressed. Smart move. I can give him that.
A little chuckle echoed against the elevator walls. Hands raised, I feigned surrender. "Fine, fine. You wouldn''t want to bring me to Vader all knocked out would you?"
As if on que, or just my dumb luck, the elevator door opened. I felt cold again. I heard that all too familiar breathing. Reality hit me, there and then.
I have a meeting with Vader.
Chapter 4: Unorthodox Trials
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 4: Unorthodox Trials
"Anger, fear, aggression; the dark side of the Force are they. Easily they flow, quick to join you in a fight."
Location: Coruscant Airspace - Shuttle Intinum
The Lambda class shuttle cut through Coruscant''s skyline like a silver bullet. Night or day was irrelevant as I sat in the midsection of the ship, strapped in and awaiting landing. I wasn''t alone in there, as I was accompanied happily by a small squad of plastic armored goons that Darth Vader decided would be buddying up with us. Some troopers stood, others sat in one of the eight passenger seats and all of them were curious as to what in the world was going on. There were six in total, all quiet. Though, I could hear Vader''s breathing from the cockpit, making it not too quiet. The door that segregated the pilot and any potential passengers was left open. We had a pilot, I knew that much. I knew I was going down somewhere, to be ''tested'' as Vader had put it. The potential horrors of whatever test it was that Vader would send me through sent tingles down my spine. I was not ready.
I gently closed my fist around the handle of the small case of med packs I''d been given, hoping that they would help. I would need it soon, since I felt a twinge of sharp pain from my knee on the long walk to the hangar before boarding the shuttle. Nothing else had been provided for this test, no weapons, no information. I had tried to feel further out as I had on the ship, I hoped to get a read on where I would be going. Instead, I was muffled, engulfed by the sheer darkness that Vader put forth. So I sat, in silence and in the dark, as the start of a gentle rain pattered against the hull of the gray ship. Awaiting my fate. Several minutes passed, until one of the Imperial''s perked up the courage to break the relative quiet.
"You think this one''s going to be a public execution?", asked one of the troopers near the rear of the shuttle. Helmet still on, the speaker in the helmet distorting their voice a smidge. Distinctly feminine. An awkward pause followed, lasting only a few seconds.
"If it''s anything like Herrji VI", the one sitting next to me spoke up, shifting in his seat.
"Well, uh, hopefully it''ll be quick." A hint of sadness and regret there.
"Lord Vader removed his binders. I don''t think there will be an execution. I don''t like any of this." interjected a third trooper from closer to the cockpit. Him I recognized, the one who brought to Vader while we were aboard the Star Destroyer. He had been dismissed to wait outside as me and Vader had a brief discussion.
I felt their anxiety and uncertainty, the hostility of some and the curiosity of the others. The silence settled in, as they knew idle chit chat with their superior in ear shot was a recipe for a trip to the morgue. Public execution, or as that being the possible reasoning for my being brought planetside or the woman''s question made me, well, question what their purpose was. If I was to be tested, why bring the troopers? Two of them at the very least were accustomed to blindly following kill orders. Though I guess the one next to me just had reservations that he did not dare voice. Would it be me doing the executing? Now there was a thought.
I never killed before. I''d like to think I could, or would if it came down to it. Yet I always imagined if I had to, the deed would be done in self defense or someone I knew¡not like this. Plus that''s even if my conjecture was correct. The entire situation made me feel uneasy the more I thought about it. I shook my head a little, trying to clear my head and focus. I just had to survive. My old life is gone, and I''ll have to change.
A different noise from the cockpit perked my ears, a shrill beep from the control console. The pilot spoke into the comms, now connected to someone else on the other side.
"This is shuttle Intinium, requesting access to Imperial Palace airspace."
My heart stopped. The world grew cold.
"Shuttle Intinium, this is Palace control. Transmit clearance code."
''Why the Palace? Why so close to the Emperor?''
"Transmitting clearance code now."
Vader assured me I would not meet the Emperor so soon.
''What reason would he have to lie? To put me off guard? Or is this just something else?''
"Code received. Proceed to platform A83."
My breaths increased, ears started to ring like bells. That attempt at being calm, definitely failed.
"Acknowledged." the pilot stated.
The ship began to descend, and as it did the rain slammed harder against the metal hull.
Location: Coruscant
Imperial Palace
The shuttle''s exit ramp lowered itself slowly onto the platform, the sounds of air speeder traffic funneling into the confined space. The troopers had stood up from their seats, those that were sitting at the very least. Lord Vader stood behind all of them as the pilot simply said that he would be waiting for Vader''s return. Meanwhile I stood next to Vader as the Troopers exited, and I could already feel the temperature change in the air, it was a wet, cold and rainy day. I wasn''t sure if Coruscant still had atmospheric manipulating machines, I remember reading they had somewhere, but I sure would wish if they still did, they would make the weather pleasant. My body never was one for the cold, and especially being wet on top of it. No coat, nothing to block it.
Great. Just great.
It''s going to be a miserable walk if it''s one of those long platforms that go into the temple itself, or what used to be the Jedi Temple.
A rush of cold air sped into the shuttle, garnering a slight shiver from myself. The squad of troopers started their march into the rain, followed closely by Vader.
"Two of you will watch the ship and await my return. The rest will follow.", Darth Vader commanded, pointing at one of the troopers.
"421, 893. Stay here.", half shouted, half commanded the woman in the less than stellar Imperial gear and who now I see, was probably their squad leader.
The named troopers nodded and headed back into the shuttle, whose ramp was still open, and misting particles of stray rain were drifting inside thanks to the growing winds. I braced myself as the misting droplets that wet my skin broke into a deluge of cold rain, soaking myself and the new uniform. The metal case in my hands was quickly growing even colder to the touch and I tightened my grip to keep it in my hand.
I made my way to place myself behind Vader but distanced enough to at least appear as some form of attache. Oh, and of course the Sith had to be walking at a leisurely pace. I bet he even enjoyed my suffering, as I felt my hands go slightly numb. Who would have thought a high enough elevation would make everything that much colder!
I kept my pace up as best I could with the mild limp I had, but the pain was growing, mutating from a dot of discomfort on the ride here, to a sliver of burning tension. I figured it would be best to nip the bud early, and swapped hands that were holding the medpacks, so I could open and access the items inside.
Except, my hands were half numb. The case was slick thanks to the freezing rain, and thus slipped and slid onto the ground, past one of the troopers and hitting the small rounded edge of the platform so as to not fall off entirely.
"Shit. Sorry!" I called out instinctively as I heard one of the troopers stop and stoop to pick my belongings up. "I can get it."
I began to walk up to the trooper but Vader spoke up, stopping me.
"Dispose of that."
Another order. At my detriment. The rain continued to fall, and another shiver ran through my body. This one involuntarily as I twisted to face the Dark Lord of the Sith.
"I need them to recover properly." I argued, and added, "I need to be at my best for whatever it is you''re planning."
I had to play it smart, who knows what I would be dealing with. Truthfully, I felt I shouldn''t even be up and walking with the amount of pressure my knee was feeling at that moment.
A miniscule tug and twist of the Force, and the case sped across the pathway and was floating above Vader''s gloved hand.
"You are mistaken in believing your recovery is of importance."
Metal and plastics twisted inwards, the medical fluids inside and glass crushed. A warped wreck fell to the metal walkway with a hollowed thud, splashing into the water collecting in puddles that split off and trickled along the sides of the walkway''s few inch high barrier where open vents let the cold liquid flow into internal piping.
"Pain, anger, hatred. Your suffering. Use it.", and with one raised hand, I felt hostile intent from the troopers. Their blasters were raised, their barrels trained right on me, the telltale clicks of safeties being switched off. I could even sense the over eager intentions of one, their finger itching to pull the trigger.
"Or you will die, where you stand."
Now, if I were more skilled in the Force, more sure of myself, I would take this as an opportunity to flee. Push one trooper, dodge the bolts coming my way, try not to get struck down by Vader, grab a blaster to protect myself with and then jump to the city below and hope to land onto a speeding vehicle.
That would be an enjoyable and far more active start to all this mess, but¡I was not at the skill level of a Jedi Master, let alone an initiate. I just had an innate sense through the Force. The energies that wrapped around the galaxy and the creatures in it, could be mine to manipulate and command. Of course I wouldn''t die here. And I sure as hell was tired of standing in this damn rain.
Rather than give an audible answer, I turned and kept walking. Each step, came a little bit of discomfort. I pushed on, hearing the clicks of the safeties locking back into place, the fast plashes of Vader''s heavy boots hitting the rising water pools. I slowed down to let them catch up, so I could at least not get lost, or worse. I dared not try to further my senses more than a few yards ahead, not even wanting to risk brushing against Palpatine''s sickening presence.
The rain disappeared, we arrived inside a busier hangar, flight crews prepping ships, tinkering with repair work. The noise was abundant, mixing with the rainfall outside. I could feel a headache starting to come on as we passed through, the workers keeping their distance.
"Lord Vader! I was not aware of your arrival, shall I inform the Emperor you are here?"yelled an Imperial Officer as we grew closer to the end of the hangar, trying his best to be heard over the shrill scraping of a buzzsaw some idiot thought to start using.
"No. I will not be here long.", Vader spoke, walking past the man and entering a hallway. We all shuffled in, walking some distance before making a left to a set of elevators. The air inside the Imperial Palace was pleasant, not cold like I would expect it to be. Lush carpet dampened the sounds of our collective boots, absorbing the water that collected and dripped from the armor the others wore.
The warmth at least helped to ease my misery, as the shivering began to be constant.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"Stand guard. I will return shortly." ordered Vader, as we came to a stop. The slip of a door opened, and he entered. I followed, realizing it was an elevator only when I hit the edge of the back wall with the tip of my boot.
The door closed and the Sith Lord pressed a single button with a wave of his hand. No music, just the noise his respirator generated. Not one for awkward elevator rides, I deemed it a good time to bring up a question that has been eating at me since our meeting on the Star Destroyer bridge. It was a quick briefing, Vader telling me we were at a destination to test me and ordered me to follow. I couldn''t even get a word in, sensing anything to cause delay wouldn''t just end up with me with an injured knee.
"Where are we going, exactly?", I asked, shifting my weight onto my good leg as the elevator took us to our destination. It has been roughly thirty seconds since the hydraulic doors closed, and I knew elevators on Coruscant had to be quite fast with how tall the buildings could get. Well, more like assumed and hoped that was the case.
Darth Vader remained silent for a few moments before cryptically saying, "Below the Temple."
I knew what he meant. I knew to an extent what was supposed to be down here.
A Sith Shrine, maybe an ancient Sith temple of sorts. A concept that existed in Legends which was the old Jedi Temple being built atop a wellspring of Dark Side energies. In the Clone Wars show, it was an idea for something for Ahsoka to deal with after her leaving the Order. Sidious would try to gain access to it, and she would stop him or something along those lines. One way or another, it was not somewhere I would ever want to be. I know what the Dark Side is capable of. What it can do to people, and what happens to those who can''t control themselves. I always compared it to a drug, fine in small doses, addicting either way. Yoda was right in that manner, once you start on that path, you can never go back. At least, most of the time.
I looked over to where Darth Vader stood. Fear and pity slithered into my heart, mixed with hope. Hope that my being here doesn''t change anything too much, I don''t want it to change too much. Fear that I will change too much, and cause greater pain and break the ''canon'' of events. Though, I guess I''d just need to play it safe, be the pawn, be whichever tool I needed to be and take on whatever role I''d have to play. The butterfly effect was something I wanted to avoid, flap a wing at one end of the ocean, the miniscule gust warps into a hurricane. No hurricanes from me please, I just wanted to make a slight breeze at worst.
The trip was nearly three minutes, and the moment the elevator doors slid open, I wrinkled my nose in disgust. It smelled like rot and sulfur, burning my nostrils. I had to cover them. Not caring in the slightest, Vader strode past me and made his way into the cavernous expanse that sat underneath the Imperial Palace, knowing which way led to the old shrine. I simply followed, watching my step and trying not to trip on the jutting rocks and stalagmites that dotted the whole area. Drops of water fell into stagnant pools, winged creatures fluttered and screeched elsewhere in the cave. It was a hive of activity, and surprising that things actually lived down here and survived so close to a concentration of corruptive energies.
"I have to wonder, why go through all this trouble?" I asked aloud, my voice echoing several times. "Why not just kill me and be done with this?" I needed an answer.
"Your connection to the Force is unique. It would be wasted with your death."
The honesty was surprising, I expected something cryptic and vague, or just to be ignored.
"How do you even know it''s unique? How can you even tell?", I pressed. There was something else. I could feel it.
"We have arrived." stated the armored cyborg, standing in front of something.
I closed my eyelids and pressed my senses out, feeling the hard edges of the rocks, the smooth surface of the molded stone and crafted metals that were the walls of the shrine''s entrance. No door, open for any to enter. Further in, I felt it. That pure swarming, folding, writhing mass of energies collecting into itself and spreading out to seep into everything around it. That was the Dark Side, probably the after effects of some ancient ritual or mass sacrifice gone wrong. My skin lost its warmth as a cold chill flickered through my bones, and I took a step back.
"You will go in alone, I will return in three days."
Before I could muster a single word in response or question, I felt a dark power wrap itself around my body and hurl me through the open doorway, slamming me forcefully onto the stone flooring. Vader just threw me around like a dog with a chew toy, and damn it hurt. I coughed, the air having been knocked out from me, and now my face hurt as well, ribs tingling on top of all that. I coughed more as I pushed myself up, and then instinctively rushed myself further inside as that same power pulled at the old stones above, and with a sharp yank, the entrance collapsed. Dust flying everywhere with a big orange poof, or maybe black, where I was thrown.
I was trapped in here, all thanks to Vader.
"So much for not planning to kill me, asshole!" I yelled at the rocks, hoping he heard me. "Seriously, man." I mumbled, pushing myself up and swiping at my uniform, trying my best to get the dust off.
"Nowhere to go but forward then." I state, closing my eyelids again, reaching my hand out to direct my senses better. I had no real need to close my eyes, but I felt like it helped, even if it didn''t. Stone, metal, rock, all tainted with the dark side. Nothing living here, nobody but me.
I walked, eyes closed and senses spread out. And I walked. And I walked some more. It was a unnecessarily long hallway that seemed to never end, with the methodical pace I set. But when it did, I opened my eyes, my hand still raised.
I saw. Green grass, the sky a brilliant blue without a speck of billowed clouds. Homes across the street, shingled roofs, red brick, some painted with an off white or mixed with blues. Flower beds with flowers or green bushes, trees here and there. An idyllic suburb tucked away in a wooded area of a small country town.
I was home. I looked down at my clothes. Jeans, shirt, jacket, nothing out of the ordinary.
I blinked, shaking my head. I wasn''t dreaming, was I? I came to terms with where I was. But now I''m back home?
"This is a trick. Come on, I''m not some gullible brainlette." I call out, looking around the empty street.
A car door slams close behind me. A Toyota Camry, and my mother stood there. A little shorter than myself, black hair, tanned skin having worked at different campsites near yearly. She was in a red tank top and lengthy gray shorts, her half bag, half purse draped on her right shoulder.
"Who are you talking to Alonzo?"she asked, eyebrows quirked, arms folded.
This wasn''t my mother. I sighed and tried to connect with the Force. That all familiar cold rushed to greet me. It was a vision, brought on by the dark side in this shrine.
And it dared, to use my memories, use that of my old neighborhood, and my mother.
"Whatever the hell you are." I growled, reaching out with the Force to my mother, raising this visage, this fake, off the ground. I didn''t even have to try, I just did it. The Force was like an extension of myself in a way, and I was not happy.
"My mom is gone.", my voice sharpening as my grip tightens. Cold rage, anger, tempered into a weapon. I harness the Force, utilizing those emotions, and the life of the fake dwindles as the air is choked from its lungs.
"She died. My brothers died. I am the only one left, so don''t you dare try to manipulate me. I will do what I have to do. I have made peace with that fact.", I continue, as my ''mother'' struggles against the unseen hand clamped to her throat. Her hand reaches out, pleading. I can see the pain on her face. I feel tears well up in my eyes. It''s a fake, it''s not her. I know that, but that does not mean it doesn''t affect me. It looks like my mother for fucks sake, of course I feel something aside from the anger at it. But I can''t do anything, I have to move forward. Step by step, body by body if I have to. Is that evil? Certainly, but sacrifices need to be made, starting with myself.
Crack.
The neck breaks, the body falls. I felt empty, the rage subsiding. Those tears that were welling up fell down my cheeks, stinging my eyes a little. I looked away. I had seen the corpse in a casket once before, no need to retread old memories, and shifted my gaze to the old home I spent so much of my life in. I knew in my heart, I''d never see it again.
"I''m sorry. I know you raised me to be better than this. But, there''s nothing I can do. Not yet."
The vision fades, along with my sight, though not before showing me what and where I was standing. A square room, a circular platform, four corners occupied by kneeling statues on one knee, backs bent and heads down. Their arms were raised to the ceiling, the rocks molded into it to give the appearance of the statues holding it up. It was ancient architecture, hundreds of years old, maybe more. A long dead body laid in one corner, tattered robes decayed with time, webs covering the skeleton head to toe.
At the center of the circular platform, in front of me, was a holocron. Red, laced with gold lines, and a black strip of metal on each of its angled sides. It was a pyramid, a Sith Holocron. Who''s, I did not know. But I definitely wanted to find out.
I walked up to it, my eye sight now gone. All around me, there was this suffocating aura, a pressure I could feel in my head. It was like being in the depths of the ocean, able to breathe but in fear that your body would break at any moment.
And it stemmed from that holocron. I placed a hand on it, and as I have been learning to do: focused on the Force. Remembering the vision, the pain that came from it, the misery of the injuries I have sustained, the loss of home, the loss of my sight, everything thus far came crashing down to a boiling pot of emotions. And I let it fuel me, energizing the Holocron and willing it to open.
"You who would be Sith. What is your name?", questioned the device. The voice was male, though distorted through a synthesizer like that of a Mandalorians helmet or Vader''s own mask.
"Alonzo Revanche." I state, feeling the energies flow from within the Holocron. This was unexpected. Didn''t know I would have to go through an interview to be able to use this.
"And what do you know of being a Sith?", the Holocron hissed.
"Servants of the Dark Side, enemies of the Jedi. They are not afraid to use their passions to drive them and their ambitions." I pause for a moment, "To them, peace is a lie. Life is a struggle. The struggles and the passions that drive them grant greater strengths, as individuals. Thus their victories are well won and fought with power gained, and have meaning to them."
"And through victory, your chains are broken. The Force shall set you free.", finished the holocron. "For a fledgling, you understand the Code quite well."
I gave a satisfied smile. I had a lot of reading done as a kid, a lot to think about. The Darth Bane books really helped me understand the Sith, and thus, where I derived my answer. The Sith Code itself can be interpreted as a self serving doctrine, which it often is. But it is also freeing, for those who are weak, helpless, it is a source of encouragement. The denial of basic struggles as with the Jedi code always, always put me off of the Jedi. The way I see it, both sides have their points and it gets people killed. Now here I am, on one side of this conflict. Against my own will.
"I had good teachers," was my smug answer.
Snap-hiss
A lightsaber ignited down the hallway, the heavy steps of boots sounding ever closer.
"Then let us see if these teachers versed you well in combat, as well as they did in philosophy.", laughed the Holocron, shutting itself down.
The pressing aura shifted, a portion lifting and allowing my senses to push outwards.
Someone was coming, they were calm, collected, at peace. It would be a few moments before they reached the chamber I was in, and then I felt it. There was something else in here, something with a sliver of energy, connected to the Force itself. I reached out with my hand, and it came.
Cold metal, covered in dust, and half of it rusted on the back portion. Easy to hold with no control boxes in the way, a small flare at the top to keep the hands from slipping into the energy beam. It was light, having some weight but nowhere near as heavy as the classic Skywalker family metal replica I had at home. Now that was a beast that weighed more than I had expected it to.
A big grin filled my face as I pressed the button near the top of the hilt. I was excited, anticipating this very moment, despite the situation I found myself in.
Shreet-spheew
The energy from the weapon sprang to life, a brilliant deep blue. I could feel the energy pouring out of this thing, it was weighty for sure. And, it wasn''t mine. It would be difficult to wield, and even more so without any training. I had to be careful.
I was not alone anymore, as the being stopped at the entrance. I could see him through the Force, looking around at the room, lingering on the holocron before pressing his full attention on me. The green blade he carried matched the swirling energies around him, though they were diminished being in a place such as this. Perhaps that would give me a slight advantage.
"Who are you?" I asked, keeping the saber to my side, hoping to appear not threatening. I would shut it off, but I had nowhere to stow it.
"An archeologist with a lightsaber.", the man joked with a little laugh. He sounded young enough, but definitely older than me. The way he carried himself, the way he was calm, he wasn''t scared of me, had no reason to be. I was half tempted to give him a good reason to, but I held my hand. I had to play this smart.
"If you''re an archeologist, then I''m the resurrected Mark Ragnos." I replied back, giving a little polite smile. "But I''m guessing you''re here for that." I pointed with the blue blade of my saber at the holocron, which was situated between the two of us.
"I am. And, if you wouldn''t mind, I would like to take it without bloodshed.", he gestured with an open palm, ready to take it.
The idea crossed my mind, letting the man take the holocron. But we''d both end up dead if we were to take that course of action.
"Lightsabers don''t draw blood. I can give a demonstration if you wouldn''t mind losing that hand." I respond, two handing my weapon to get better control.
I let out a small breath to calm myself. My knee was killing me, I shifted to my dominant leg, spaced my legs out as best I knew how to.
The man said nothing, put his hand down and rushed forward with an aim to kill.
He stabbed towards my left shoulder, I swatted it away, pushing his blade up into the air with more force than I meant to.
The hilt in my hands almost slipped free of my grasp but I tightened my grip and brought down a vertical slash that aimed for his right shoulder but he blocked it easily enough. Our two sabers locked a moment before the claimed archeologist brought a knee up to my stomach, being a few inches taller he could easily reach it. He had reach, skill, and height on his side. I had nothing, severely outclassed.
I backed off, stumbling and clutching my stomach, my back now against the literal wall.
"Shit, ya didn''t have to bruise my guts before you spill them." I commented, ducking under a horizontal swing to my head, then following up with a low sweep for his legs which he knocked to the side with ease.
"Far too messy when I can just remove your head!", he responded, knocking me back with a close range force push against the wall.
I was dazed for a brief second but that was all he needed to try again for my head, and succeeded as I failed to bring my saber up in time.
All I saw was green and a flash of light.
I was still standing, right hand on the Holocron, and in my left hand was the hilt of the discarded lightsaber. It was another vision, that one blending in rather well. Sneaky, I should have noticed. I suppose I was too occupied in the present.
The Holocron chimed to life, verbalizing again, "It appears your skills are less than adequate. Yet, that is why you are here. To learn from me, the lessons your masters will not teach you."
"I have three days." I say, picking up the holocron with both hands, having let the lightsaber fall to the floor with a tink of metal meeting stone.
"Teach me.", I requested, as I found a place to sit and put the holocron on the cold ground.
Chapter 5: Sacrifice
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 5: Sacrifice
"The Jedi... The Sith... You don''t get it, do you? To the Galaxy, they''re the same thing: Men and women with too much power, squabbling over religion, while the rest of us burn!"
Location: Coruscant - The Sith Shrine
The three days that I had been trapped in that damned shrine passed by in the blink of an eye. During that time, much transpired. I took to asking the Sith Holocron, or rather the personality imprint of a Sith, quite a few questions. Things like who created it, how many years ago, how long had it been in this shrine, questions of that nature to sate my curiosity during down time between sessions. It said that due to the age and degradation of its parts, its functions were failing rapidly. The surge of energy after being activated caused a few wires to be fried and it did not recall much aside from the teachings that were banked away.
Thus, we expedited the basics of the training, foregoing the aptitude tests with the Force, and focused solely on grander subjects. Survival, techniques to empower your body with the Force, poison resistances, breathe control and similar subjects to at least get me started on the right track.
Where my body failed, the Force could shore up the difference. I had yet to sleep, choosing to meditate in short bursts as instructed. There had been times where I felt myself dozing off, fragments of dreams appearing as I closed my eyes but the Holocron was there to startle me awake the first attempts at meditation.
Oddly enough, it worked.
Unlike the Jedi who strived to keep themselves at peace, the Sith focused inwards, plucking at their emotions like strings on an instrument to weave together a song of intense emotions. My hunger, the pain from the still healing saber wound, my frustration with the vague assistance of the Sith Holocron kept me going. Anger came quickly to me, always had but I knew better than to let it rule my actions, but now with the Force I could channel it into something, well definitely not something good. Just something.
My eyes were closed, the saber hilt floating in front of me as I carefully deconstructed it piece by agonizing piece.
The crystal within it felt alive, full of energies that were barely contained. It was part of my final instruction to pry that Jedi''s crystal from the casing and break it. To bleed that crystal into the weapon of a Sith, though I don''t think Emperor Palpatine or Darth Vader would enjoy that idea.
The Sith spoke, clear and with a patience unexpected of a Sith. "The parts of a lightsaber are easily removed, it is the crystal that will refuse you. It was not yours, it belonged to someone long dead. It remembers the one it chose, and thus you must bend it to your will. Break the bond, use the Dark Side and it will be yours."
I unwove the lightsaber delicately, stripping bolts, screws and the few clasps that kept it together. It was a simple design and as a whole was well put together and not too, too difficult to separate. My mind''s eye held the metal pieces floating in the air as I twisted and pulled at the final part, splitting it in two. The crystal chamber revealed the prize I sought, and reached for it, Force pulling the small crystal into my hand.
"I understand that bleeding a crystal can be volatile, and dangerous to the surroundings. Will the holocron be safe, do you think?", I asked the Nameless Sith Lord.
When Darth Vader bled the crystal he put in his lightsaber, the thing nearly killed him. But, when Daggan Gera bled his yellow crystal, it happened quickly, with minimal energy output. I was hoping my attempt would be more like Daggan''s than Vader''s. Then again, comics and games are a far cry from what I was dealing with.
"Focus on your goal, I am well protected.", barked the Sith. "No distractions, no questions. Break its chains to that Jedi, and set that kyber crystal free."
I held my tongue. I was focusing just fine, no need for it to be so commanding. Thus, with a clenched hand over the crystal, I emptied myself. I would be a vessel for the Dark Side, and channel all of its fury into it. I slowed my breathing, sensing the world around me, the taint of chilling wrath that stained the walls of this ancient shrine. All to give me focus, to harness it into a strength and power I could never have had before.
The purge began. Visually, I could see the soothing energies of the Jedi still swirling inside the crystal, yet it recoiled as I introduced it to something far worse. Like a cancer, the dark side made it''s way into the crystal, corrupting the natural construct bit by bit, molecule by molecule. To me, it was like watching a disease be stripped away, and it was fascinating. I poured more of the Force into the crystal, dust swirling around the room, lightning of blue and red sparking from my hand.
I would have my crystal, and I willed it so. I have a reason for being here, for being in that place. I have a destiny to discover, and I wasn''t going to let some measly dead Jedi and his crystal stand in the way of that.
A final push, and a surge of power bursting from the crystal as the last light within it died, as if a last defiant scream in protest and agony. The whirlwind stopped, the lightsaber parts fell to the floor, as I collapsed to the ground, not realizing I had been levitating just a few inches above the stone floor.
In my right hand was a bled crystal, my very own. A satisfied smile crept onto my face as I eagerly looked at the Sith Holocron, and that smile fell.
I could not sense anything from it. I pulled it to me with the Force, the cold glass and metal sending a sting of chill when it came into my hand and confirmed that it was dead. Using the dark side to open it, or trying to simply did not work at all. Whatever powered it had shut down.
"Of course it lied.", I said, putting the broken machine on the ground and placing the crystal next to it. "I suppose for a speedrun, it did its job. Now, let''s see if I can put this thing back together."
I looked down at all the saber parts with a frown. The Sith at least helped me get started on taking it apart, and now here I was without it, about to attempt to put it together.
Hope this thing doesn''t explode. I think, lifting the crystal up.
Location: Coruscant - Imperial Palace Landing Platform
Tap.
Tap tap tap tap.
Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.
Wet droplets pouring onto the viewport window always mesmerized Fanistra, watching them splatter, some slide and collide with others as they fell, combining into larger, heavier droplets as they went down thanks to good ol'' gravity. It was a past time she settled into when bored, waiting for people to come back from wherever they went. Sometimes, they never return. She remembered years ago, watching the rains, waiting for her mother to come home. Imagine her surprise when her oh so angelic mother was found in an alleyway on the lower levels, butchered by some alien scum. It wasn''t until years later that her Aunt Dranola would tell her why.
Fanistra looked past the droplets and at the reflection staring back at her. Black hair, pale skin, brown eyes she got from her father, the nose from her mother and the rest of her features were inherited from her as well. It was like walking with a ghost haunting your every move, a constant reminder of what was lost that night. Over spice. Over a damned drug, and now here she was, making momma proud. Waiting. That was the worst part of all her assignments. The anticipation, not knowing what came next.
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She had served in the CSF after finishing her education, and tried her best but it didn''t fit. It was too dull, even though she loved it. That was why she decided to enlist, to try something different. The basic training was easy, and through exemplary service she got where she was today. It all shared the same underlying reason: she wanted to stop being that pensive, impatient little girl that idolized her druggy mother. First it was through law enforcement, now it was as a member of the 501st.
An esteemed member who sat in the co-pilot seat, waiting for her boss to get back. Rick Dorin, the pilot next to her, was peacefully asleep. He took his little officer hat off and put it over his face to hide the sun. They had been waiting for three days, ordered to stay here, on the shuttle. Darth Vader had gone into the Palace and had not returned, yet. She knew he would come back, but she was curious if that younger man that was with him would return as well. A flash of lightning broke through the clouds, striking a nearby skyscraper''s lightning catcher.
He had piqued her interest when she first laid eyes on him, standing there next to Vader in the Star Destroyers shuttle bay. The red case of med pacs was the first thing to catch her attention, then the hastily tailored officer''s uniform, minus the code cylinders and proper identifications. It was his eyes that truly captured her attention, she had never seen ones so blue before, they almost glowed. As they went through the debriefing, the standard rigmarole she realized he never once tried to look around, or when he looked towards someone, his eyes never shifted. It was haunting, but telling, he was blind yet his eyes looked functional.
No tell-tale milky film or anything of the sort. It was clear to her that he was someone of interest to Vader, she was hesitant to say importance after that debacle on the walkway days ago.
Poor guy couldn''t even see and then he had blasters in his face. She thought, huffing out a sight that fogged up the viewport. She felt a little pity for him, he looked cold, scared even when trying to argue with Vader, now that took some courage for sure. She wouldn''t dare, but her relationship with her superior was far different.
She took her orders without question and succeeded every time. She was quite proud of that fact, thinking back to the medal she received after the mess on Herrji VI. She got promoted to Commander, was given charge of her own squad and kept chugging along for two years, going from post to post until arriving here.
Figuring there was no better way to pass the time, Fanistra closed her eyes and let the sounds of the downpour lull her to a restless sleep, taking a page out of Rick Dorin''s book.
Tap tap tap.
BEEP BEEP BEEP!
Both Imperial Military members woke up with a jolt, Rick tossing his hat against the viewport in confusion, while Fanistra stood up and reached for her holster. They both looked at each other and then to the ship''s console. A blue light was flickering on and off, timed together with the ever annoying beeps.
Rick pressed a button on the console and a hologram sprung to life. Another stormtrooper, whose hologram, seemed far more static-filled than they usually are but she realized it was just the rain being caught in the scanner''s view.
"They''re back," he said.
It was TS-893, his distinctive accent cutting through the voice modulation well enough. He was one of the troopers she kept at the ship to guard it, as Lord Vader commanded, and she ended up joining him after Vader returned from the elevator to the lower levels. All the troopers that escorted the pair were sent back to wait for Darth Vader.
A wave of relief washed over her after hearing that. No more waiting, and she could finally have some proper food when they got back to the ISD.
"Thank you. I''ll be out in a moment.", was her genuine response, clicking the hologram off and then swiveling the co-pilot chair.
She grabbed her discarded white helmet from the passenger seat and proceeded to exit the shuttle, giving a silent wave goodbye to Rick as he scrambled to get his hat, and start warming up the ship.
The ramp was lowered already, and the air was colder than it had been, the rain pelting her armor and soaking her body suit underneath. Even with the temperature regulators, it was going to be a few minutes before she felt any warmth. Imperial engineering at its finest.
The rest of her squad had already gathered, and past them, still a few dozen yards away she could make out the black form of Darth Vader leisurely walking to the ship. Next to him, limping a little was the man she joked about executing.
"Come on men, step up, parade line up, I''ll greet them.", she ordered, shoving 893 with a playful amount of force. "I''m already sick of rations as it is."
Commander Fanistra, designated ZU-157, made her way through the heavy winds and rain to intercept the two passengers. "Lord Vader, I hope everything went well for your visit." she yelled, raising her voice above the howling winds. "We can depart as soon as you wish."
The caped commander nodded in acknowledgement as she stepped beside him, flanking his left side. She wasn''t sure if it would be proper to address the other man, so she made up her mind to just ignore him for now.
It was a few moments before they arrived at the loading ramp, steam and exhaust spurting out from the hydraulics.
The troopers saluted their Commander and her superior. Fanistra continued walking up the ramp, hoping to remove herself from the cold as quickly as possible, and in her post nap, still foggy brain she didn''t notice the heavy bootsteps stop.
Yet, a cold burst of fear permeated her being when she heard the last two words of her life.
"Kill them.". Deadpanned Darth Vader. It was an order, with no room for discussion.
An order she had been given many times, a few from Darth Vader. She turned in confusion, that itself turned into realization. That man had not returned empty handed, due to the heavy rain and the poor helmet visibility she had failed to notice the cylinder in his right hand.
Snap-hiss
The crimson blade lit up their white armor, bathing them in a hellish glow. 893 didn''t even have a chance to pull his weapon, he was cut down instantly. His shoulder was cleaved into, the blade cutting at angle, following through to his heart and all the way through. Horror crept into the rest of the troopers, realizing too late what was going on.
Though seemingly blind, the man moved to his next target''s location quickly, his limp now gone. Fanistra undid the clasp on her holster, and yanked her E-11 rifle out, not caring to undo the collapsible stock. In those few seconds, three of her men were killed, 893 was cut in half, 346 was missing his head, and 062''s armor had blaster marks still glowing orange and bubbling the plastics. The remaining three had begun to retreat in order to make some space and keep out of the range of his blade, two of them making their way up the ramp to join their commander, while one maneuvered to get behind the attacker.
She raised her blaster and pulled the trigger as the man with the lightsaber was swinging towards the trooper furthest away. The bolt was stopped with a quick block, stalling the death of one of her men. Several shots were sent from the two now next to her, using the slightly elevated ramp to get better shots.
It didn''t matter. Three reflected bolts went into the ship''s bulkhead before a fourth found the head of the one to her left. He fell instantly like a puppet without strings. She gripped her blaster and fired more, aiming for the chest.
Behind her target, the trooper she saved stood frozen still, the rain rolling down his armor, the blaster in his hand now slack as he collapsed to his knees.
The shots she fired did nothing, a blur of red swatting them away like yot-flies, and he simply kept walking to her and the other one on the ramp. Shot after shot, until one stray bolt finally deflected into the stormtrooper to her right.
She was alone. Again. And instead of waiting, fruitlessly firing until she died, she ran. Barrel burning hot, she grabbed it like a club and sprinted into the rain. She screamed, all of her life, everything she had done, all her accomplishments, just to die here? To be tossed away and killed.
No. ZU-157 would die on her terms.
Except, this wasn''t her world. She had no power to dictate such things. She realized that as her sprint fumbled, and the velocity that she was moving with increased. The man reached out a hand and pulled her towards his waiting blade, readied to strike.
Her lower body slid across the durasteel catwalk, the pooling water making little waves as it did. The top half flopped to its side, giving her a final glimpse at the world.
Darth Vader continued into the ship as the man with the blade turned to the last remaining trooper.
Fanistra prayed in her final seconds of life, numb to the pain as the water fell onto her helmet, that her final squadmate would not have to wait for death.
Chapter 6: Show of Force
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 6: Show of Force
"This is the weapon of a Jedi Knight. Not as clumsy or random as a blaster; an elegant weapon for a more civilized age."
Location: Fortress Inquisitorius - Training Hall
"Again."
That flat, accented tone passed through sharp teeth, the alien''s glowing yellow eyes looking down at me with cold disregard. The tip of the Utapau native''s red blade edged closer to my throat, steady and unwavering despite the two hours we had spent training. The Grand Inquisitor was a machine, precise, quick and deadly.
He pulled his weapon away and backed up a few paces to allow me to collect myself off the durasteel floor. I reached for my lightsaber, calling it to my hand with a fragment of willful puppetry of the Force. The lithe former Jedi had flung it across the room with a single maneuver, swept my legs out from under me and would have removed me from this second life if he didn''t have restraint. Or at the very least injure me severely.
I knew for a fact the others wouldn''t have held back, still remembering the bruises, burns and broken bones I had gained over these past few weeks, months maybe? Time blurred with my new method of perception, and with the training regimen they had been putting me through, it left very little time to myself, other than returning to my bunk room for the time to rest. Constantly going from basic education, tactics, politics, and several forms of ''Jedi'' training, whether it be with the lightsaber or the Force, I just felt exhausted.
Granted, I knew I had nothing else to do, no other responsibilities or duties, just betterment of my own body, mind and aptitude. I excelled well enough, but something about wielding a lightsaber, without sight, strictly with the Force after years of having sight¡
I felt frustrated. I was tired, drained, and done with all of it. I sensed the calm, prideful Inquisitor no more than ten feet away, waiting for me to get up off the cold floor. Watching me with curiosity as he had, expecting something of interest to manifest. The ease with which he had defeated me every few days, for hours and hours. Barely speaking a few words, but his flippant attitude spoke volumes.
It pissed me off.
The cold rage that situated itself in my center, that coiling mass of emotions flowed into my limbs, granting me a sudden burst of speed, boosting the adrenaline I already had swimming in my veins.
Snap-hiss
I was ready to go for round eleven.
The gray skinned alien held his blade to his right side, left hand and forearm behind the back, making clear his stance was a utilization of Makashi. Made infamous by Count Dooku before and especially during the Clone Wars, it was a lightsaber form developed thousands of years ago to combat against other lightsaber wielders. A combat form born from a schism and now the perfect method for a Jedi hunter like the Grand Inquisitor. It was a form I wanted to learn, to adapt, and eventually exploit.
But for the moment, I only knew the basics of Shii-Cho, and applied it easily enough to what I remembered of swordplay and close combat from my old memories. They weren''t much, but it helped nonetheless. Basic attack and defense zones, what to extend and what not to.
Funnily enough I didn''t care. All I wanted was to do something, other than fail. Scant useful memories and Lightsaber Forms be damned.
I brought my left hand from my side, placing it above my right hand that held the metallic saber hilt. Two hands allowed for better control, more forceful attacks. Perfect to apply pressure against someone using a fencing style like the Grand Inquisitor. I didn''t know a lick of the Djem So form, but I wanted to try to apply something out of the box, to focus that anger into strength.
Red light stabbed forwards, poised to strike right between the smug Pau''an''s piss yellow eyes. The attack never reached, swatted aside by his sabers blade, the casual redirection having far more force than I expected and ended up pulling my momentum far more to my left than planned. A mistake exploited with haste when I sensed, then ''saw'' a build up of dark side energies while the Inquisitor used his unoccupied left hand to Force Push my stupid ass. The dark side energies appeared as vibrant reddish purple vines creeping from without the empty void. Those slivers of power were channeling into his body and coalescing in his hand which then snapped out to me, palm open and slim fingers wide.
Out of reflex, I flinched, anticipating an impact. The energy launched was enough to cause me to stumble, and with my right side further exposed, I could feel those piss yellow eyes narrow, his blade coming for my neck. I ducked further to the left, using the redirected momentum and the lightsaber blade hummed over my head. I pushed my chances and swung again, aiming to slam into his right flank, but the Grand Inquisitor twisted around to block at speeds far faster than I had seen him move in all our previous sparring sessions.
I knew he had been holding back a bit, but this was something else. I could sense the fluctuations of energy with every move he made, drawing on the Force to empower his strikes, swift footwork, all of it. It was subtle but there nonetheless. I could see the energy as it was being manipulated, sense where it flowed and foresee, if only barely, where it would be used. A more visually stimulating form of the Jedi''s fabled precognition that allowed them to defend against blaster bolts, sense imminent danger and Force enhanced assailants. It was clear which of us knew what they were doing.
Despite that, I still was gonna try. I was enjoying this level of challenge, this gulf in skill and fundamentals. I wasn''t going to improve without something to push towards. I had to study his movements and adapt my own style to his.
I took a few steps back, trying best to keep my distance but I would have had much better luck pulling teeth from a rancor. The taller humanoid moved with practiced grace, stabbing the blade towards my legs with a lunge. I hopped over the attack, one leg out of the way, using the other to shove a boot to his gut. He staggered and I moved in, not wanting to waste a moment. Both hands gripping the saber hilt, blade tilted down and to the right, I sped to my target. Calling on the crucible of pent up rage, I empowered my strike, pushing the Grand Inquisitor''s attempt to block the attack out of the way. If he didn''t have a lightsaber, he would have been cleaved from his left hip to right shoulder, sadly since he did, he just backed up as I bat away his blocks.
It was a crude method, little finesse and the only thing going for me was sensing the Force in his motions, tiny pricks of energy that funneled into a movement of the hands, legs or outwards to sense my own intentions. Even with enhancing my strength with the dark side, it wasn''t enough. I lacked the speed to keep his guard broken for long. His blade moved to intercept, his body slithered to avoid where his blade could not.
The lightsaber blade was the obvious problem, and my intentions, my attacks were too obvious. I realized that as I felt my body slowing down after the intensity of calling on the Force for longer than I had done before. Only for brief moments had I done it, but to actively call on it like this was something else entirely. I had to finish this up, call it a day. I lunged, going for another stab. He made a motion to toss the blade to the side. Panic set in when he saw the blade begin to retract, my hand reaching for the wrist of his sword arm. Rather than use the Force to empower my strength, I directed it to my lightsaber, willing the blade to retract quicker by manipulating the connection between myself and the crystal. The bond persisted after what occurred in the underground shrine, strengthening my connection to the dark side and allowed for little tricks like this one. I pressed the lightsaber emitter to the Grand Inquisitor''s stomach, his wrist shackled by my free hand. I pushed myself just a fraction more, pulling from my reserves and willing the dark side to pressure the other humanoid''s wrist.
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He dropped his lightsaber, the metal clanking to the durasteel floor. It was clear that the fight was over. I still didn''t move, breathing heavily from exerting myself as much as I did. We both knew I could kill him right then and there, that temptation lingered. If he died, someone else would take his place, and I would end up punished severely or dead. There wasn''t a way for me to see so far into the future, not yet at least. So I focused on the present, and let myself calm down my breathing with slow breathing.
I loosened my grip on his wrist, and pulled the inactive hilt away from the Grand Inquisitor''s abdomen. "Well done." he grinned, reaching down to pick up the lightsaber he had been using. "Now, I believe that will be the end of our training for the evening."
I nodded, too tired to say anything, and placed my own saber onto the belt clip when a door opened at the far end of the training room, two pairs of boots filling the hall with echoes. I focused on these intruders, brushing my senses against their luminous energies, to see if they were a fellow brother or sister Inquisitor. They were neither. Both of their shapes were humanoid, but when trying to sense their thoughts, those were definitely not human. Aliens are difficult to read, and Force Sensitive ones doubly so. I could see the Force envelop them in a comforting warmth, though it paled in comparison to the chilled static cloud that hung around the Pau''an that maneuvered around the two. Thankfully even if their minds were hard to grasp, their movements still reverberated through the Force itself.
"Only one of you will leave this room alive.", informed the alien, walking to the door the other two had entered from. Two clunks of metal hitting durasteel punctuated his words, the older man having released the shackles on the two prisoners with the Force. They rubbed their wrists and looked at each other. The door shut, leaving the three of us alone. I could sense above, the many eyes from the one way viewing box that doubled as the security room.
Air filled my nose and exited through my mouth in an extra frustrated sigh. I get a miracle of a win, with a one time use trick, and what do I get? A goddamn death match. Not what I wanted, not what I needed. Food, a shower and some sleep was needed. I wanted to rush these two down and end them quickly, not play with them like I had that squad of ''stormies'' on Coruscant. And if this was a final test of sorts to join the Inquisitors, I would be bummed at the lack of effort to make it interesting. Then again I would be pissed if this wasn''t the final shitshow. There were only so many times I could be tested before a demand had to be made, and answers given. I just wanted to be done with the whole thing. I lacked the patience. I lacked strength.
Another option bloomed in my mind, and I decided to try a different approach. I put on a warm smile, and put my hand out, making my way to the alien that reminded me of a gentle summer tide.
"Hi, I''m Alonzo!", I chirped as best I could in my sorry state. "What''s your name?"
"M-my name is Itokai." he politely greeted, taking my hand. Rodian, long fingers, rubbery hand. A timid creature, I could feel his fear, his anxiety. Good. I''d need that.
I gently shook his shoulder. "Never met a Rodian before." I kept that smile plastered on as I turned to the other life form in the room.
"Who might you be then?" I asked, releasing Itokai''s hand and turning my back to him. "What species are you?"
"It doesn''t matter if you''ll be dead soon."
Feminine voice spoke that was sharpened with anger. I laughed, putting my hand out for her to take. She avoided the question, but no matter. "Nonsense! No reason we shouldn''t know each other on a first name basis before we die."
I pushed just a little bit with that, hoping to break the ice. I felt a tug of the Force, seeing a little string of yellow energies attaching itself to the hilt of my lightsaber. She was going to try to grab it, and with it being the only weapon in the room, it was their only escape. Correction, her only escape. I let her think she had the upper hand, as I took the few steps I needed towards her.
"Come on girl, don''t let your death be meaningless. Give us your name, so one of us can remember you." I pleaded with her. I spoke with some clarity, some experience on that matter. After all, what remains of you when you die and those who you interacted with die? Those memories can no longer be visited, all that is left is the name, and the impact you put forth from your actions. Okay, maybe not something so dramatic. I was in a different universe after my own death, or that is what I assumed. So who can really say what lingers on, after everything is gone? Philosophical questions and ponderings that were of little interest to the nameless woman.
That string the alien made was wound tight around the hilt and was yanked.
Itokai acted first, sensing a shift in the Force. These two aliens weren''t just some civilians to test against my resolve. They were too young to have been Padawans during the Clone Wars. They were former younglings.
"No! Wai-", Itokai called out but his voice stuck in his throat. One little dark thread had slithered its way around his throat. Those rubbery fingers clawed at that dark thread, panic setting in as he slowly choked to death. He was unbalanced, not noticing the subtle probes I made to his barriers. Why use a lightsaber, when you have the Force? Palpatine himself had one, only to mock them, ridicule them, like the sassy bitch he was. Words and subterfuge can work wonders if used right, or blow up spectacularly. We had yet to decide which way this was going, seeing another strand tugging my saber back to where it belonged on my belt.
I couldn''t split my attention between the Rodian behind me, and the bitch trying to steal my lightsaber, so I made a decision. I let go. My saber sped into her hand with a loud smack, bruising her at the very least and allowing for a momentary distraction as the saber had bounced off her hand and onto the floor where it slid a few dozen feet.
She turned to the weapon and pulled again, looking away for a few seconds. The dark thread around Itokai''s neck grew to surround his arms, legs and just about his whole body. His consciousness was nearly fading, so I let loose. One Rodian loaded and ready to fire. I couldn''t help but feel a little excited, tossing another being around like a baseball.
The former female Jedi hopeful turned just in time, the saber in her hand. That jolt of fear seeing a body loosened from the ground and rocketing towards her, that was a wonderful spike of energy I needed. Itokai slammed into the nameless woman, knocking her down while the rodian slipped past and slid on the floor a few feet more. The speed wasn''t enough to outright kill them both, but to incapacitate, break or strain something.
Mrs. Thieving Hands had the wind knocked out of her, allowing me the opportunity to scoop my lightsaber up from the floor with a satisfied smile. I ignited it, and strode to her prone form quickly, not wanting to give her the chance to recoup.
"You dumbass. I gave you the chance, I told you. Now I will only know you as the dumbass that got Itokai killed." I spoke aloud with every step, dragging the tip of the saber blade on the ground, at eye level where the laid. She blinked, some blood leaking from somewhere on her head. Her eyes registered before her ears did, her arms attempting to push herself up off the durasteel.
I didn''t let her, putting a hand out to direct the swirling Force energies, weighing her down with her own negative emotions. I understood why the dark side was powerful, why it was such an intoxicating power. It gave me a mild sense of respect for the Jedi who were truly good.
I didn''t allow her to get a word, removing her head without a swipe of my wrist, just guiding the blade across the floor to her neck. I switched it off afterwards, reaching out to where Itsokai laid. His breathing was ragged, blood pooled out from his mouth. I could pull from his suffering and rejuvenate myself in a way, if only mildly. I just wasn''t going to push myself further than I already had. The whirling twine thinned and looped around his neck, readying itself to crush his life. And it cinched, breaking the neck and windpipe in an instant, destroying nerves and vertebrae.
I was the only one left, and I looked up at the gathered Inquisitorius from their little watch room.
"Well? Are you not entertained?" I called out, arms open wide to gesture at the mess. At least this time there weren''t any large amounts of body parts everywhere.
"Entertained, no. Satisfied, yes."
The loudspeaker echoed the voice through four different speakers mounted in the walls, corresponding to each cardinal direction. The Fifth Brother spoke for the others in a low, rumbling whisper.
"Quite right on that front." stated the Grand Inquisitor. "Return to your quarters for the day, Brother. We will reconvene in the morning."
"Brother", my mind echoed. I really am doing this.
I shut down the lightsaber, and let out a breath. I calmed myself, thumbing the ignition switch on the lightsaber absentmindedly. I was to hunt down Jedi, and whatever other ruffians deemed worthy of the eyes of the Inquisitorius. I needed to be careful in that part, I didn''t want to screw things over for the rebellion in the long run, or accidentally reveal the identities of Jedi hiding amongst the galaxy. Though, I was tempted to seek out Obi-Wan Kenobi in secret if possible, to learn where Reva had fled. Even if it had been four years, and nearly fourteen since the rise of the Galactic Empire, I had a suspicion he could provide a vital clue in the other Inquisitors investigations. Something to curry favor with them at least, and save my neck or pull a favor.
I let a little laugh out, making my way to the exit of the room. Not even officially inducted, and there I went, thinking of ways to weasel my way around this group of insane ex-Jedi. All that nonsense was a problem for the future, as I had a wholly different path ahead of me: a somewhat comfy bed with my name written all over it.
Chapter 7: The New Brother
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 7: The New Brother
"As a hunter would train hounds, so too does our Emperor use us to sniff out the rot plaguing this great Empire."
8 BBY
Location: Nar Shaddaa - Vexcron City
My senses were overwhelmed the moment I stepped off the Imperial shuttle and onto the landing platform. The wind hit first¡ªcold and biting¡ªwhipping through the air like an invisible blade that cut into my bones. It carried with it the overpowering scents of a thousand worlds, each one fighting for dominance with the distinct sharp, acrid smell of uncleared trash heaps so intense it seemed to sting the back of my throat. Beneath that, the scent of exotic spices wafted up from the vendors on the levels below, blending into a chaotic harmony. Every gust brought something new, shifting and unpredictable, an ever-changing tapestry of sensations.
The Smugglers Moon was a storm of shifting stimuli, overwhelming and constant. The symphonic chaos was palpable, vibrating in the air around me like the hum of a distant engine. Through the Force, I felt it even more strongly¡ªflickers of tension, moments of instability, like static electricity crackling around me. For four months, the chaos had grown, sparked by what seemed like random violence: attacks on Imperial refueling stations, bars frequented by local officers, even a failed bombing of the regional administration. At first, the Imperial Security Bureau dismissed the incidents as mere criminal disruptions.
But it wasn''t so simple. Working closely with Grakkus the Hutt and his network of informants, the ISB uncovered the truth. No known criminal syndicates had a hand in these attacks. It wasn''t the usual smuggler or bounty hunter scum trying to antagonize the local Imperials. This was something else entirely¡ªsomething intense, more deliberate. It had slipped under the radar for months, but now the pieces were coming together, and the true scope of the threat was starting to reveal itself.
The bombing attempt was where the insurgents had finally slipped up. Their meticulous planning had shielded them for months, but in their arrogance, they overlooked a critical detail. A section of the targeted building¡ªan unremarkable area they must have thought was unsecured¡ªhad hidden cameras, their presence unknown even to the insurgents'' slicers. Despite their skill in disabling the broader security grid, they had missed this blind spot.
The surveillance footage captured everything. As the saboteurs planted their explosives, the cameras recorded everything about them. The local network silently flagged the activity, pinging Imperial security forces. Within minutes, their identities were confirmed, and a swift operation was launched. There was no time for them to scatter or retreat into the underworld of Nar Shaddaa. The response was decisive and efficient, with stormtroopers surrounding the saboteurs'' hideout. They were rounded up quickly, their resistance minimal¡ªsurprising for a group that had evaded capture for so long.
Two members of the captured group were executed on the spot once arriving at the local ISB divisions base of operations, their deaths orchestrated to instill fear in the last remaining insurgent, a sleazy weequay named Dodrias Benzik. The others had given him up without hesitation, each being separated into different speeders on different routes on the way to the destination. Dodrias remained quiet on his trip while the others spilled everything they knew.
Dodrias Benzik, now left alone, was revealed to be the ringleader, the key to unraveling the deeper layers of this conspiracy. All of this information had been laid out for us on the shuttle ride down to Nar Shaddaa, while some broader local information was learned during the studies I had in the Fortress under the tutelage of several excellent and not boring droid instructors.
Despite his reputation as a coward and a backstabber, Dodrias proved to be surprisingly resilient during questioning. The ISB agents administered their most potent drugs and methods but the weequay held his ground, gritting his teeth through every wave of agony. The interrogation devices they had on hand were inadequate. Agent Farrkus, leading the investigation, admitted with frustration that their arsenal of methods was limited by the political sensitivity of their presence in this sector. Hutt Space wasn''t really Imperial territory, and every action here was scrutinized by higher-ups, wary of upsetting the delicate balance of power. The budget too was scrutinized and diminished, the funds going to more important and larger issues.
Farrkus was determined, though. He knew that Mr. Benzik had valuable information, and that breaking him was the key to understanding who or what was truly behind these attacks. But with each failed attempt, the tension grew. Something was protecting Dodrias¡ªeither a deeper loyalty or something far more sinister than they''d anticipated.
Hence why I stood in the stench of Nar Shaddaa, listening to the relentless roar of traffic, starships and speeders whizzing by the landing pad, filling the air with a steady hum. The sounds were as overwhelming as the smells.
Sensing my discomfort at the pungent odors surrounding us, the 7th Sister called out from across the platform. "There''s a reason why I have this on." she called out, pointing to her helmet, voice modulated but still purring like a cat. "Can''t stand the smell of this place."
The lime green Mirillian stood off to the side of the platform, rubbing the top of one of her probe droid''s metal dome while the other two scanned the area.
"You sure it''s the smell, and not just the men?" I ask, reaching to the shuttle and using the Force to bring my own helmet to my hand, and placing it onto my head. From the way it was described to me, it fit with the rest of the Inquisitorial wardrobe. Form fitting, mostly black with a bit of gray and a red line down the middle that glowed. With no way to traditionally see, there was no need for a HUD display, or a horizontal vizor. As always, the bad guys got the cool looking gear. It attached to the rest of the armor, hissing and whining as the hematic seal locked in place.
"The men you''d find here, end up dead in a week." she scoffed. "The women on the other hand¡" she trailed off. Her flirtatious nature wasn''t something that was born from her turn to the Dark Side, her becoming an Imperial Inquisitor.
Even as a Jedi, she''d been known for her sharp wit and her abilities as a slicer and mechanical genius¡ªif slightly unhinged. What access I had to the old Jedi Archives, I used to discover what I could of the Inquisitors I would be working with and for. Some of the information was restricted, or severely redacted due to the level of clearance I had, but it still was better than nothing.
"Dead in an hour?" I teased, my own voice now modulated, deeper and more sinister than before. It was designed to inspire fear, but carefully crafted to ensure it didn''t mimic or infringe on Lord Vader''s distinct aura.
She chuckled softly. "Depends on how lucky they get." A smile and shake of the head was all she received in response.
The chatter died down as we moved away from the platform, our boots clanking against the cold, metallic ground. Ahead, the crossway split into three distinct paths, each leading to a different section of the city we had landed in. Vexcron City, sometimes just called Vexcron had been a staple of Nar Shaddaa for thousands of years, shifting and changing structures and layouts to fit the ever moody Hutt''s whims. If I remember right, it was even lifted up and changed to a different side of the planet entirely several centuries ago when an illegal coaxium shipment blew up entire levels of Nar Shadda''s towering buildings. Instead of repairing the damage normally, engineers devised a scheme to just move the city and put it on top of where the accident had occurred. It wasn''t so simple, but it was managed to be done in less than a decade.
The first path led to Zalrio Plaza, Vexcron''s heart, a bustling district filled with merchants, street vendors, and the more "respectable" side of the local underworld. Here, traders from across the galaxy set up shop, hawking everything from exotic spices to almost illegal weaponry. The noise there was relentless¡ªhaggling, shouting, and the low murmur of deals being made in shadowed corners.
To the left was Varel District, the industrial sector. Its towering structures were grimy and run-down, housing the factories and warehouses that kept the city functioning. The heavy scent of smog and fuel lingered in the air, a byproduct of its ceaseless production. Varel was dangerous, its narrow streets home to gangs that controlled the flow of spice and other illicit goods.
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Finally, Iddo''s Reach laid to the right, a far more dystopian area, littered with desolate, crumbling buildings and abandoned spaces. Once a prosperous neighborhood, it had fallen into disrepair, now occupied by scavengers and the desperate. It was a place where secrets were buried¡ªand bodies disappeared.
As much as I wanted to explore Zalrio Plaza¡ªto try the myriad of exotic foods, chat with the different vendors, and maybe even pick up a set of Pazaak cards that I could never use. I allowed the 7th Sister to lead the way, her strides filled with impatient purpose. There was a certain intensity to her that demanded attention, and it was clear she was eager to reach our destination. We had a meeting in Iddo''s Reach. Agent Farrkus had deemed it unnecessary to meet us in person when we landed, choosing instead to wait at the hidden outpost where Dodrias Benzik was being held.
She navigated the flow of foot traffic with ease, reading the signs and following the holomap projected in her visor, while I relied solely on my overstimulated senses. Thankfully, the sealed helmet dulled the chaos I had experienced earlier. The rancid smells that once assaulted my nostrils were now filtered out, and the cacophony of voices and machinery was muted, allowing me to tune in more clearly to the currents of the Force around us.
Even with my helmet''s enhancements, the feeling of unease was clogging the air. I could sense the tension, a shifting undercurrent of danger that lurked beneath the surface. As we ventured deeper into Iddo''s Reach, I steeled myself for whatever awaited us. The Force was alive here, filled with whispers of past actions, and dark deeds. I knew with certainty that some of the future echoes here would be from my own hand, with the company I kept. A stabbing here, an attempted theft down the street. I could feel them, the emotions, the feelings, the rush of a blade, and if I were to focus, see it through cloudy silhouettes. A strange ability, but it was why I had been sent here to investigate along with the 7th Sister. It was a useful tool, that once we had learned I could do it, the Inquisitors began to train its uses. It wasn''t exactly Force Psychometry, nor was it the Force Sight that I used every waking moment. I decided to call it Temporal Sensing. Psychometry dealt with an object, and the emotions tied to it. A little different, but just enough to make me interested in just how this Force ability worked. I was tempted to stray off the path that the Sister was taking, to explore and see the echoes for myself, but her abrupt stop pulled me away from such musings.
We soon arrived at the building, which was nondescript and seamlessly blended into the surrounding disorder of crumbling structures and mountains of debris. Its faded fa?ade offered little to distinguish it from the dilapidated surroundings, and I sensed it had been carefully chosen for that very reason. A few disguised Imperials loitered around the area, their postures relaxed yet alert, keeping an eye on the building from afar. The low hum of their conversations mixed with the distant sounds of the city, but I felt their immediate interest upon seeing both me and the 7th Sister roll up on their little base of operations.
Their eyes narrowed as they assessed us, tension rippling through the air like a charged current. I could almost taste their curiosity and unease. The 7th Sister exuded an air of authority, her stance unwavering as she scanned our surroundings, seeking out any potential threats. I followed her lead, drawing on the Force to heighten my awareness of the atmosphere, feeling the subtle vibrations of energy around us.
As we approached, the disguised Imperials exchanged furtive glances, clearly debating whether to engage us or remain watchful. I sensed their hesitation, a mix of respect and uncertainty. Despite their attempts at nonchalance, I knew they were on edge.
The 7th Sister strode inside, ignoring the several pairs of eyes watching us enter. The hydraulic doors screeched with age as they slid aside, and I couldn''t help but wonder why the ISB hadn''t maintained them better for the ease of entry for their operatives. But this was an outpost, not a fully equipped base. Whenever we did go to the base eventually, it would be best to arrive discreetly. And not like we had just done, striding through a public area and a run down district teeming with thieves, mercenaries and killers.
Durasteel panels were uneven underfoot, each step causing a hollow echo in the dimly lit corridor. Exposed wires dangled precariously from the waterlogged ceiling, puddles formed in the corners, remnants of broken pipes that dripped incessantly, creating a rhythmic yet unsettling sound. The air was stale, not from decay, but from purifiers. Camera''s watched our every move as we continued down the corridor, passing by flooded rooms or half broken open blast doors.. If we didn''t know better, this building could easily be a trap. A well-placed detonite charge could bring the whole structure down, potentially causing an explosive reaction if the gas utilities were still active in this section of the hideout.
We reached the door at the end of the corridor, a solid durasteel slab with no visible handle or panel. I instinctively reached out with the Force, feeling for any hidden threats or mechanisms, but before I could focus further, a small scanner extended from the wall, whirring as it swept across us. It paused briefly, its light flickering over the 7th Sister and me, then retracted with a soft beep.
A synthetic voice crackled through an unseen speaker. "Lifeforms identified. Welcome."
The door slid open with a smooth hiss, revealing a pristine interior that came as a jarring contrast to the disrepair of the previous corridors. The walls here were spotless, gleaming in the sterile white light, and the air was noticeably fresher, filtered and purified than what was in the rundown section. We stepped into a lobby with a few simple furnishings, but its clean design hinted at the efficiency of the operation. Nearby, several offices were visible, Imperial officers, data analysts, and security personnel working diligently. Imperial insignias hung on the walls, a few scan green plants added in corners to liven up the d¨¦cor.
Before we could take in much more, a pair of stormtroopers approached, their blasters held in parade rest. Alongside them was a woman in an Imperial officer''s uniform, her blonde hair tied neatly into a tight bun. She was in her late forties, her face weathered by years of service, but there was a sharpness in her gaze that suggested she missed nothing.
"Officer Halli Navos," she introduced herself with a curt nod. "I''ll be escorting you to the interrogation room. Agent Farrkus is waiting for you."
We followed her through the polished hallways, the sound of our footsteps muffled by the smooth floor beneath us. I glanced at the 7th Sister with a flicker of my perceptions, whose attention was focused forward, her mind already churning through what lay ahead. As we neared the interrogation room, the hum of the building''s life support systems seemed to grow louder, like a distant heartbeat echoing through the walls.
Navos keyed a panel at the door, and it slid open to reveal Agent Farrkus standing near the center of the room. He was in his thirties but looked older. His dark hair streaked with gray, and his eyes hollow from long nights of interrogation and sleepless vigilance. The weequay, Dodrias Benzik, hung suspended by chains from the ceiling in the middle of the room, his arms stretched above him, his head slumped forward. Blood and bruises marked his leathery skin, though he was conscious, eyes flicking weakly toward us as we entered.
Farrkus straightened, his expression a mix of relief and formality. "Inquisitors," he greeted, stepping forward. "It''s a pleasure to meet you in person. I appreciate your assistance in this matter. We''ve had¡ limited success in extracting information from our guest."
The 7th Sister wasted no time. "What have you learned so far?" she asked, her tone clipped as she approached Benzik, her gaze fixed on him with calculated intensity.
"Not much," Farrkus admitted, gesturing toward the weequay. "He''s been resistant to all of our usual methods, even the more extreme ones. He''s proven to be more stubborn than we anticipated."
The 7th Sister circled the prisoner like a predator stalking her prey, asking Farrkus more questions about the interrogation process. Her voice was smooth, but I could feel the undercurrent of impatience behind it. Meanwhile, I remained silent, focusing my attention on the weequay. His battered form radiated pain and fear, but beneath that, I sensed something else¡ªan unexpected resilience.
Without a word, I reached out with the Force, probing his mind. It was not difficult to breach the surface thoughts¡ªhis mind was a garbled mess, swirling with disjointed images and emotions. Flashes of sabaac card games, lustful fantasies involving famous dancers, and vivid memories of brutal killings flooded into my consciousness, all of it chaotic and unfocused. But beneath that was something else, something deeper that hid itself.
As I pressed further, the 7th Sister glanced over at me, her sharp senses catching on to what I was doing. Her conversation with Farrkus faltered for just a moment, and I felt her amusement flicker through the Force. She could sense what I was doing, and I noticed her slip into Dodrias'' mind for a moment to see what I was, still giving half attention to the Agent Farrkus.
The more I dug, the more I realized there was something unusual about the weequay''s resistance. He wasn''t just stubborn; he had been trained. I pulled back slightly, letting the surface thoughts swirl again, before stepping forward to address the others.
"He''s not just physically resilient," I said, my voice low and firm. "He''s been trained to resist mental probing. There''s something more going on here."
Farrkus frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Trained?"
I let the silence linger for a moment, because I felt obligated to bring some dramatics. "A Jedi. There''s a Jedi involved."
Chapter 8: Inquisitive Inquisitors
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 8: Inquisitive Inquisitors
"Who is more foolish? The fool or the fool who follows him?"
Location: Nar Shaddaa- Iddo¡¯s Reach
As Katari Naju walked into the dimly lit interrogation room, her eyes were immediately drawn to the prisoner¡ªthe weequay, Dodrias Benzik. His leathery skin bore the marks of Farrkus''s methods: bruises, cuts, and blood¡ªthe result of the agent¡¯s crude attempts at extracting information. Benzik hung suspended by chains, his head drooped forward as if in resignation, but she knew better. The spark in his eyes, barely visible beneath heavy eyelids, gave him away. He wasn''t broken. Not yet.
Farrkus straightened, his expression a mix of relief and formality. "Inquisitors," he greeted, stepping forward. "It''s a pleasure to meet you in person. I appreciate your assistance in this matter. We''ve had¡ limited success in extracting information from our guest."
A quick sideways glance at the 14th Brother, Agent Farrkus¡¯s other guest, deepened her sense of disdain. Katari, the 7th Sister, was used to the unsettling presence of her fellow Inquisitors, but there was something about the half breed Miralukan that unnerved her. His movements were too mechanical¡ªlike a droid mimicking a human¡ªyet his touch of the Force was eerily effortless. Miralukans, a rare and endangered species, were born without physical eyes but saw through the Force itself, giving them a heightened, almost supernatural connection to its flow. It wasn''t just sight¡ªit was an intimate understanding of their surroundings that went beyond what most species could comprehend. His Force sight, devoid of normal eyes, allowed him to see in a way she never could. She envied that connection, the constant awareness that was just out of reach for her.
He was already using it. She could feel it¡ªhis consciousness slithering out, probing the weequay''s mind while she and the agent spoke. His mechanical efficiency grated against her patience. There was an elegance, a brutality, in breaking someone slowly, breaking down their defenses piece by piece, but the 14th Brother seemed to rush¡ªseeking shortcuts, lacking her appreciation for the process. It made her irritation simmer beneath her composed exterior.
"What have you learned so far?" Katari asked curtly, her tone clipped as she circled Benzik. She studied him¡ªhis body, his demeanor¡ªlike a predator assessing its prey before the kill.
"Not much," Farrkus admitted, gesturing weakly toward the weequay. "He''s been resistant to all of our usual methods¡ªeven the more extreme ones. He¡¯s proven to be more stubborn than anticipated."
Katari''s patience thinned as she clasped her hands behind her back, her irritation simmering beneath the surface. Agent Farrkus''s own frustration hung in the air¡ªthe incompetence of these Imperials was infuriating. She paused in front of Benzik, tilting her head slightly, considering her next move. The prisoner looked up at her, his eyes unfocused, but she could feel something more. Resilience. A flicker of defiance.
She found herself growing increasingly annoyed as the Imperial Agent droned on, elaborating more on the interrogation specifics than necessary. It was something she could view herself with holo recordings, but she allowed the man to prattle on¡ªit kept him busy while she assessed the situation herself.
The 14th Brother was silent, still at her side, his presence a heavy reminder of their uneasy partnership. Katari turned her head to find him standing motionless, the eyeless gaze of his helmet fixed on Benzik. She knew what he was doing without needing to see it¡ªhis consciousness, touching, feeling, prying. His attempts were brutish, unsubtle, but they were working. She could feel the struggle, the push and pull in the Force.
Her one sided conversation with Farrkus faltered, her focus slipping as she sensed the 14th Brother¡¯s progress. There was something almost grotesque in the ease with which he slipped into Benzik''s mind¡ªlike a blade sliding between ribs, finding the weak point. The 14th Brother operated with an unnerving level of calm, tapping into Benzik''s thoughts with a precision that made her uncomfortable. She couldn¡¯t help but feel a twinge of envy at how natural it seemed for him. Like he had done it before.
She allowed herself a moment of amusement, her lips curling beneath her mask. The 14th Brother''s methods might be crude, but they were effective. He was sifting through the jumble of memories, digging deeper, and she could feel the ripples¡ªthe surface thoughts bubbling to the front, disjointed and chaotic.
Flashes of card games, violence, indulgence. Useless distractions. Katari watched the weequay''s face, the slack expression as he succumbed to the mental pressure, the way his body tensed as the 14th Brother pushed deeper. She sensed something¡ªa hesitation in the weequay¡¯s thoughts, a place where his mind refused to let the 14th Brother through. She frowned beneath her mask.
The 14th Brother stepped forward, his voice low and calm. "He''s not just physically resilient," he said, his voice firm. "He''s been trained to resist mental probing. There''s something more going on here."
Farrkus frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Trained?"
Katari let the silence linger for a moment. Farrkus¡¯s eyes flicked between the two Inquisitors, confusion evident. The agent wasn¡¯t used to the Force, to the subtleties of mental invasion and resistance. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now.
The 7th Sister took a deliberate step forward, leaning in close to the prisoner, her presence palpable. She wanted him to feel the weight of her patience¡ªthe knowledge that she had time, but he didn¡¯t.
The weequay¡¯s eyes flicked, and Katari could feel his mind resisting¡ªwalls built not by strength of will alone, but by knowledge of what they were capable of. He feared her, yes, but there was something more.
The 14th Brother''s voice cut through the tension. ¡°A Jedi,¡± he said, his words hanging in the air, rich with implication. Farrkus''s eyes widened, and Katari could feel the shock ripple through him. "There''s a Jedi involved."
The 14th Brother''s expressionless helmet turned towards her, his presence in the Force curious. She straightened, crossing her arms. There was something exhilarating about those words, the promise of a worthy hunt, something beyond this grimy room, beyond this sorry excuse of a planet.
¡°We¡¯ll need to proceed carefully,¡± she said, her tone a little lighter, betraying a hint of eagerness. Finally, something interesting.
Location: Nar Shadda- Zalrio Plaza
¡°They really don¡¯t even have a Viper droid to spare?¡± I muttered, half in disbelief.
I weaved through the crowd, slipping between the shoulders of two passersby. The market thrummed with life, the vibrant energy of Zalrio Plaza resonating through the Force in pulses of sound and shifting color. Most of the time, Imperials were given a wide berth; people preferred to avoid unnecessary entanglements with the Empire. But Zalrio Plaza was unlike anywhere else. It was the beating heart of Vexcron¡ªa sensory explosion of light, color, and sound, each element woven into a chaotic symphony that reverberated through the Force. Traders bustled, their presence glowing like distinct flames in the hazy, overlapping waves of noise and activity. Traders from all corners of the galaxy flocked here, their stalls overflowing with exotic goods¡ªrare spices, gleaming trinkets, and even contraband that teetered on the edge of legality. The relentless noise formed a symphony of commerce: vibrations that rang through the Force as if a thousand bells were being struck in unison, resonant and alive. The haggling, the bark of traders, and the whispered deals took on hues of deep crimson and golden yellows, the colors flaring with the emotions behind them. In this bustling hub, the Imperials were just another curiosity, something to be mocked, not feared. To the locals, we were simply visitors, something to be stared at and mocked behind our backs. And honestly, with the pathetically small budget the ISB and local Imperials had, I could understand their jokes.
Even though I was part of their military structure, I was an outsider being brought in for specific tasks, and the cracks in the local operation were glaring. The fact that a branch of an Imperial intelligence agency lacked the resources for a simple probe droid baffled me. A Viper droid wasn''t just a surveillance tool¡ªit was practically indispensable for any mission of significant risk. The very idea that we didn¡¯t have one made our presence feel more ridiculous than formidable.
¡°The branch did have one, until it was stolen,¡± the 7th Sister clarified, sauntering ahead and pushing through the throngs just as effortlessly as I did. Her voice crackled faintly in my ear, transmitted through the commlinks in our helmets¡ªa necessary precaution to avoid the ever-attentive ears of Zalrio Plaza.
I wasn¡¯t even surprised. This planet was crawling with thieves and opportunists, and the level of negligence within the Empire never ceased to amaze me. My curiosity, though, was piqued. Who could possibly have a fifty-million-credit droid floating around, doing who knows what? The Viper droid was sophisticated beyond belief¡ªsensors, appendages, processing power that could rival some planetary surveillance networks. I didn¡¯t know whether to be impressed by the thief¡¯s skill or disappointed by the incompetence on our side that let this happen. Probably both.
¡°So, the last time you were here...¡± I began, changing the subject. There was no point in dwelling on failures that weren¡¯t mine to fix. ¡°Uh, find any good food spots?¡±
All the scents wafting through the air were getting to me. Even through the helmet''s filters, I could pick out the smells of grilling meat, tangy spices, and something sweet that made my empty stomach twist with hunger. I needed something¡ªsomething spicy, something that could light up my senses. But we were on the hunt, and detours were frowned upon by¡ well, by everyone above me, which was practically everyone.
¡°I know of a few,¡± she said, dodging a large droid hauling a magnetic cart behind it. ¡°Just not on this part of the planet.¡± She paused for a moment, considering. ¡°There may be a place nearby where we could get some Dilinari noodles.¡±
I fought to keep my irritation in check. Dilinari¡ªsentient beings from the planet Vorgesh, way out in the Outer Rim. Tall, clear-skinned, their veins bioluminescent and visible beneath the surface. Hunted for their skin, their blood¡ªit was a practice that made my stomach churn. The 7th Sister, though, she was a fan. The first time we had partnered up, she¡¯d tried to get me to sample what she called ¡°Dili delicacies¡±¡ªher tone teasing, almost daring me to confront her about it.
¡°Pass,¡± I said curtly. ¡°Anything that¡¯s not an endangered species?¡±
¡°Endangered depends on one¡¯s perspective,¡± she shot back, a grin evident in her voice. She had a way of making you picture her smirk, even when her face was hidden. ¡°But fine. I suppose you¡¯re in luck¡ªthere¡¯s a stall up ahead that sells Zeltron wraps.¡±
I perked up slightly at that. Zeltron food was decent¡ªflavorful, spicy, with just the right kick of sweetness. It wasn¡¯t exactly field rations, and that alone was a victory worth savoring.
We moved through the crowd in Zalrio Plaza, the din of the district rising and falling in waves that shimmered in the Force¡ªshouts of vendors, humming repulsorlift engines, and the clatter of goods merged together in a prismatic dance of sound and sensation. A blur of overlapping colors surrounded us¡ªbright streaks of emotion and intention that flowed through the Force, each individual radiating with their own light. The stalls, the neon signs, the people¡ªall melded together in a dynamic tapestry, the colors shifting as their moods ebbed and flowed. I caught sight of a Rodian haggling with a vendor over some glittering trinkets, a group of humans gathered around a Sabaac table, the sharp, synthetic laughter of a protocol droid echoing from somewhere to my left.
The 7th Sister moved with purpose, her stride confident, cutting through the masses without hesitation. I followed, doing my best to match her pace, but also to take in everything around me. This place was a maze¡ªone wrong turn and we¡¯d be lost in a warren of back alleys and dead ends. But that was also part of its charm¡ªa place like this, you could disappear if you needed to. You could be anyone, or no one at all.
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¡°There,¡± she said, pointing ahead. A stall with a faded red awning, steam rising from a wide metal griddle, the vendor¡ªa tall, lanky Twi¡¯lek¡ªflipping something that looked promising.
We approached, and the vendor eyed us warily, his gaze lingering on our armor for a beat too long before he forced a smile. ¡°Imperials,¡± he greeted, his voice smooth, practiced. ¡°What can I get for you today?¡±
¡°Two wraps,¡± the 7th Sister said, her tone curt. ¡°Extra spice.¡±
The Twi¡¯lek nodded, moving quickly to prepare our order. I watched as he worked, my stomach growling in anticipation.
The 7th Sister turned her gaze toward me, her curiosity palpable. "You''ve always got that calm, detached thing going on. What exactly are you doing with the Force right now?"
I paused for a moment, caught off guard by her sudden probing. "Just keeping an eye out," I replied vaguely. I reached out through the Force, trying to sense any danger lurking in the chaotic energy of Zalrio Plaza. The movement and flow of the crowd made it difficult¡ªemotions clashed, interwove, and shifted constantly, their intensity sometimes overwhelming. The ebb and flow of light and sound was like trying to see through a storm, each flicker of unease or spike of tension almost instantly drowned out by the relentless tide of activity.
She frowned beneath her mask, clearly not satisfied. "Keeping aware? What''s it like to be Miralukan? To see like you do?"
Her question genuinely surprised me, and I hesitated. I had never really thought about being something other than a human. I had bought into the Admiral''s story about the supposed bomb, too preoccupied with just staying alive to question it. But now, with everything calming down, I could finally piece it together. The way I sensed things others couldn''t¡ªthe impressions, the flow of emotions, the unseen dangers¡ªit all started to click into place. "I had no idea," I admitted, my voice quieter than usual. "But it makes sense now. The way I see the Force¡ it''s like an endless ocean of light, sound, and color. Everything has a rhythm, a glow, and I see it all. The Force is alive, weaving through everything around us."
The 7th Sister tilted her head slightly, a mocking edge creeping into her voice. "You sound like Yoda."
I gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "A wise man once said, to defeat your enemy you must know them."
She scoffed, turning her attention back to the vendor as he worked on making our wraps.
"We have to find our enemy first." She gestured subtly to her right. "We''ve had tails since we entered the plaza. See those two? The Aqualish by the droid parts stall."
I shifted my gaze slightly, letting my senses reach out. Two individuals stood a few stalls over, their presence buzzing with nervous energy. They were looking through droid parts, but their attention kept flicking towards us. Their emotions were a mix of fear and determination, not unlike our weequay friend back at the base.
"Let them watch. I''m kriffing starving." A small smile tugged at my lips beneath the mask. It felt oddly satisfying to use those curse words and have them actually make sense to the people around me.
For a moment, just a moment, I allowed myself to forget where I was¡ªforget the mission, the stolen droid, the weight of Imperial bureaucracy. For now, there was just the smell of cooking food, the warmth of the griddle, the promise of something that might, if only briefly, make everything else fade into the background. It reminded me of home, going to a local market with my brother. Chatting up a barkeep, drinking something and eating something better, all while the sights, sounds, and emotions of the market melded together in a comforting blur, a respite from everything else.
It didn''t take much longer for the vendor to finish making the wraps. I took off my helmet, placing it on the bar. It crossed my mind to ask the Twi''lek if that was okay, but I figured he valued his business¡ªand his life¡ªmore than arguing about where I put it.
I took a bite of the Zeltron wrap, the spice hitting me almost instantly¡ªa combination of heat and flavor that had my senses lighting up. The wrap itself was chewy, the bread almost gummy in texture, clinging to the juices of the meat. It was a type of meat I couldn''t quite identify¡ªalien, gamey, perhaps kath hound if I had to guess. It was savory, with just enough spice to make it interesting, a satisfying contrast to the sweetness of the sauce that lingered on my tongue.
"How do you want to proceed?" I asked, glancing at the 7th Sister as I finished my last bite. She had her probe droids hovering above, and I knew she had a plan forming.
"We let them follow us," she replied, her eyes narrowing. "The droids are watching them. We''ll lead them away from the crowd."
We stood up, leaving our empty wrappers on the stall. I could feel the presence of the two Aqualish intensify as they trailed us from a distance. Their nervousness hummed through the Force, a jittery tension that suggested they were unsure of their next move. I caught the animalistic calls they exchanged between themselves, the guttural language sounding wary and excited all at once.
The 7th Sister led us through the plaza, her movements smooth and deliberate, as though she were simply wandering without a purpose. The crowd began to thin as we moved towards a quieter section of the district, the noise fading until we slipped into a dim alleyway. The two Aqualish hesitated, but they followed.
"They have blasters," the 7th Sister said, her voice calm over the commlink in my helmet. I could feel her confidence, her anticipation. I nodded, unclipping my lightsaber from its back holster and turning to face the two aliens.
"Okay, what do you two meatbags want?" I asked, igniting my lightsaber. The crimson blade hummed to life, casting flickering red light against the walls of the narrow alley.
One of the Aqualish raised his hands, his words prompting the auto translator in my helmet to kick in. "We come with bargain! Yes, a bargain. Information, for friend?" The voice was soothing, synthetic and a little too loud for my tastes.
The 7th Sister tilted her head, her gaze sharp. "A bargain? You want your friend back, what for?" Her hands rested on her hips, and one of her probe droids landed on her shoulder. Another perched on one of the Aqualish''s shoulders, a silent warning.
The alien stammered, his voice nervous. "We know bad friends of friend!"
I narrowed my eyes, extinguishing my lightsaber but keeping it in hand. "You know where these insurgents are? Why not just tell Grakkus? He''s assisting the investigation as it is."
The two exchanged glances, and I resisted the urge to sigh. They shared one brain cell, it seemed.
"These guys are idiots. Wanna just waste them?" I muttered over the comm. I did feel a little hankering for violence, but I knew better than to just burn up a lead. There was something else I was missing, I could feel it.
"No," the 7th Sister replied, her voice holding a hint of amusement. "They have markings on them, the same markings that Dodrias had tattooed." She reminded me why she was here to be my physical eyes¡ªdetails like that were things I simply could not see.
"Oh. Huh. Well, why not just make a copy and slip in?" I suggested. The silence lingered for a beat as she considered the idea, her probe droids shifting restlessly on the Aqualish''s shoulders.
"That... may work," she finally said, her tone holding a note of approval. A smile formed beneath her mask. She turned her attention to the aliens, her voice commanding. "You two. We will give you your friend, and you will get another friend to take with you. In return, you will be well compensated for your help."
The Aqualish exchanged glances, clearly unsure, but too afraid to refuse.
I clipped my saber back into the harness on my back. Sure, I could play the bad guy, but going undercover on my first mission? Kriffing hell.
Some days later
The Aqualish led the way through the narrow alleys of Nar Shaddaa, their pace quick, heads constantly swiveling as they kept watch for any prying eyes. I followed closely, my mind drifting between what was about to happen and how I''d ended up here¡ªgoing undercover as a member of a gang called the Kutters. It wasn''t exactly what I expected from my first mission with the 7th Sister, but I had to admit, it held a certain allure. An opportunity to test myself.
Dodrias walked beside me, his eyes vacant, the recent mind wipe having erased everything related to his interrogation and our encounter. It was unnerving to see him like this¡ªhollow, lacking the fire he once had. He stumbled occasionally, and I nudged him forward, pretending to be a fellow gang member rather than his captor. The two Aqualish ahead were talking to each other in their guttural language, but I didn''t need the auto translator to know they were nervous. The tension bled off them, rippling through the Force like a jittery, unpredictable wave.
We reached an old, rusted warehouse near the outskirts of Zalrio Plaza. Its exterior bore the scars of years of neglect, the metal plating peeling and pocked with rust. It was perfect for a gang hideout¡ªsecluded, hidden in plain sight. One of the Aqualish, the taller of the two, rapped a specific pattern on the side door. A small viewport slid open, revealing the eyes of a guard. There was a momentary exchange in Huttese and Aqualish, and I kept my expression neutral, using the Force to subtly glean the guard''s mood¡ªcautious but not alarmed. After a tense beat, the door slid open with a metallic groan.
The interior was dim, the air thick with the scent of engine oil and something acrid, like burnt plastic. My senses were bombarded with an overwhelming amount of noise¡ªconversations overlapping, machines buzzing, footsteps echoing against the metal floor. It all painted a vivid picture through the Force¡ªan impression of organized chaos. I allowed my presence to blend into the environment, not hiding, but not standing out either. The Aqualish gestured for me to follow as we were led deeper into the hideout.
A gathering of Kutters lounged in a spacious area filled with crates, some sitting on them, others leaning against the walls. The gang was a rough-looking group¡ªvarious species, from humans to Rodians to a Wookie. Most wore mismatched armor and weapons strapped to their belts, their collective gaze locking onto me and Dodrias as we entered. The murmurs began almost immediately, suspicion and curiosity mixing in equal measure. I felt the scrutiny¡ªa hundred different emotions pricking at my awareness. But I kept my demeanor composed, confident.
"Who¡¯s this?" a human male demanded, stepping forward. His eyes narrowed, taking me in. He was tall, heavily scarred, his head shaved clean. The leader, or at least someone important¡ªhis confidence was palpable, his presence demanding attention.
The taller Aqualish stepped up, bowing his head slightly. "This is... new recruit. He comes with information. Friend Dodrias¡ªhe knows much, but he was taken." He glanced back at Dodrias, whose vacant stare drew a few chuckles from the gathered gang members. "We got him back. We bring new friend too."
I took a step forward, locking eyes with the human. "Name''s Han. Dodrias here, he got picked up by some Imps same as me. I helped get him out. Figured the Kutters might appreciate the favor." My voice was calm, steady, carrying a subtle hint of authority. The contacts ISB gave me were supposed to help color my eyes, dim them to a silvery blue.
The leader eyed me for a long moment, his gaze hard. I could feel him assessing me, trying to decide whether I was worth the trouble. I kept my expression neutral, letting him see what I wanted him to see¡ªdetermination, a hint of arrogance, but not too much. Just enough to suggest I was confident, but not stupid.
"One sec. Just need to get word from the boss."
The man left, going out from my perceptions. The room tensed further, the quiet maddening. I wanted so badly to push my senses to where the man went, that Jedi was there, or someone higher up the chain.
After what felt like an eternity of silence, the man gave a nod as he walked back into the room. "Alright, Han. You¡¯re in. But you screw up, and we¡¯ll make sure you regret it." He jerked his head toward a cluster of crates. "Take Benzik over there. We¡¯ve got some questions for him."
I nodded, nudging the weequay forward as we moved to the side. The tension in the room relaxed slightly, the gathered gang members going back to their conversations. But I could feel the attention lingering¡ªeyes watching, waiting for me to slip up.
We settled Dodrias on a crate, and I leaned against the wall, letting my senses expand. I had to be careful¡ªone wrong move and this would all come crashing down. I felt the ebb and flow of the emotions around me¡ªwary, distrustful, some curious. The key was to stay just involved enough to blend in without drawing too much attention. The 7th Sister had taught me that¡ªobserve, learn, and act when the time is right.
A few minutes later, the leader returned, his expression grim. He gestured to Dodrias. "We need to know what he knows. You said you helped him get away from the Imps. What were they asking about?"
I pretended to consider the question, glancing at Dodrias. His mind was a blank slate¡ªthe 7th Sister had seen to that. I looked back at the leader. "They wanted information on a shipment. Weapons, maybe tech¡ªsomething valuable. Tough bastard wouldn¡¯t talk, so they roughed him up pretty good."
The leader grunted, his gaze shifting to Dodrias, a mixture of disdain and grudging respect in his eyes. "Tough bastard is kriffin right. Alright, Han. You stick around. We might have work for you soon."
I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. "Got it."
As he walked away, I allowed myself a small breath of relief. I was in¡ªfor now. But I knew better than to think the hard part was over. This was only the beginning. I needed to find out what the Kutters knew¡ªabout the Jedi, about their operations. I had to play the long game, gain their trust, and feed information back to the 7th Sister. And all the while, I had to keep Dodrias safe enough that he didn''t become a liability.
The warehouse bustled with activity¡ªa mix of conversations, deals being struck, equipment being repaired. I observed from my position by the wall, my senses drifting through the symphony of energy, picking up snippets of conversation, hints of what lay beneath the surface. The Force was alive here¡ªa web of intentions and actions, a constantly shifting tide of energy. And I was in the midst of it, trying to find the thread that would lead me to what I needed.
"Han," one of the Aqualish called out, gesturing me over to a group huddled by the far wall. I pushed off the wall, making my way over, keeping my posture relaxed, my demeanor calm. This was the game now¡ªplay my role, learn what I could, and wait for the right moment to act. And, above all else, not let on that I was anything other than what I claimed to be.
Undercover in a gang of criminals, with nothing but my wits, the Force, and a mind-wiped ally. Kriffing hell, indeed.
Chapter 9: A Choice
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 9: A Choice
¡°Feel the pull of the Dark Side. Embrace it, cast aside the failing Order my friends.¡±
Location: Nar Shaddaa- Iddo¡¯s Reach
This was bad, really kriffing bad. Agent Farrkus ground his teeth, fighting the intense urge to unholster his blaster and unload a few rounds into the terminal both he and the 7th Sister were watching. One of the screens had shown a direct feed from one of her micro Viper droids, now completely cut off. Keeping his rage in check, the aging human looked to the technician at the terminal¡ªher eyes wide with panic as she typed frantically.
"Is there anything?" he barked, one clenched hand gripping the back of the chair as he leaned in urgently to see the full array of screens. "Did that kid send anything usable?" He shot a quick, sidelong glance at the 7th Sister, hoping Katari would let his blatant disrespect slide during this moment of crisis. The entire operation had just been blown to space dust because of the young Inquisitor''s bravado.
The technician¡ªCorin-Jo, if he remembered correctly¡ªwas silent for a few moments, her hands moving rapidly as she scanned the computer system for the data being transmitted. It was nearly complete before everything went to hell. Agent Farrkus could only hope the 14th Brother had pulled through.
"I found it. There¡¯s a lot here, but it will take some time for me to¡ª"
"Move," growled the 7th Sister, stepping forward briskly, shoving Farrkus aside and pulling the chair out from under Corin-Jo. "I will find their target. Use your connections, Agent, and find a way to contact Number Fourteen."
Corin-Jo looked at her superior in shock, bewilderment clear on her bronzed features. Farrkus sighed and nodded. "Come on, Corin. Let her do as she wishes." He turned to the door, allowing Corin-Jo to pass through, leaving the two alone. "I doubt he¡¯s alive if there¡¯s a Jedi involved. To think I trusted the hunch of a¡ª" His frustrations slipped through the composed facade he wore. Farrkus knew better than to let it happen, but something about this mission, about these two Inquisitors, felt wrong. It put him on edge.
A second interruption, again from the black-clad Inquisitor. His voice caught in his throat, the air around him thickened. "I would not dare finish that sentence, Farrkus." Her right arm was raised towards him, the binding grip of the Force holding Agent Farrkus in place and twisting threateningly around his larynx. "Be a good boy and do what I tell you," she intoned, purring with a saccharine tone as the invisible claw released him, allowing his lungs to be refreshed by the stagnant, recycled air of the ISB facility. Farrkus gave a small cough, but said nothing, and left Katari Naju to her task. She had to succeed, to make up for her partner''s blunder. As she searched the scrambled data, breaking through encryptions, she drew upon the dark side, seeking his presence.
Location: Nar Shaddaa- Kutter Hideout
Five minutes earlier
I was fucking pumped. Two months. Two months of doing trivial bullshit¡ªhelping around the base, moving supplies, cargo, meeting with the guys who sell the cargo¡ªmaking sure no one got ripped off during transactions and everyone kept their heads. The whole works. Just another guy in a moderately sized group of instigators. Little gigs here and there to gain their trust, doing my best to pretend I could see. Some had their doubts, but I made friends easily enough with Jorn and Vorn around to vouch for me. They were the two Aqualish who had tailed us in the plaza. Idiots, but likable. And great at cards.
I kept tabs on what I could, meeting with the 7th Sister and Agent Farrkus whenever possible. Two days ago, we devised a plan to use her probe droids to slice into the base''s main computer. I had guard duty tonight with Jorn, Vorn, and Dodrias¡ªwho had his head back on straight and didn''t remember anything after his capture. He was the wild card, but Jorn and Vorn were easy enough to get in on the plan.
It was Agent Farrkus who smelled the trap a mile away, and I agreed. It was a trap, plain and simple. Anyone managing a group this large knows better than to leave an entire "friend" group alone unless they expect them to screw up.
I crept through the dimly lit corridors of the Kutter hideout, my senses on high alert, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I moved silently, my breath steady as I listened for any sign of approaching footsteps. Jorn, Vorn, and Dodrias were covering for me, keeping an eye out. I felt a pang of guilt¡ªthey didn¡¯t know what I was really up to. Not until I slipped into their minds, bending their will, convincing them to follow my orders without question. It wasn¡¯t easy. Dodrias, in particular, had been difficult. He¡¯d clutched his head in confusion as I pushed into his fractured mind¡ªbroken and pieced back together, it was like trying to bend an old, dried-out branch without snapping it.
Invading someone''s mind was a strange, unsettling experience. It felt almost intimate, like touching the deepest parts of their being. Their thoughts, their emotions, their fears¡ªall of it became malleable under my influence. I twisted it until they believed they wanted to help me, protect me. Power like that was intoxicating, raw, and left me feeling dirty. But it was necessary. I needed them to trust me, even if that newly twisted trust was nothing more than a fabrication.
The door to the main computer room loomed ahead. I glanced back to ensure no one was following. The coast was clear. I pulled out the key spoofer Dodrias had made, attaching it to the door''s access panel. The device buzzed softly, lights flickering before the lock released with a soft chime.
"Pure pazaak." I whispered to myself, my nerves calming only a little. I wasn''t sure if the spoofer would work or not, but it did.
The door slid open, and I slipped inside, closing it behind me.
The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the computer terminals along the far wall. I took a deep breath, moving to the shuttered window. The 7th Sister¡¯s mini Viper probe droid was waiting outside. I used the Force to carefully lift the metal slats, just enough for the droid to slip inside. It hovered in front of me, its mechanical eye fixed on me before extending a tiny arm holding an earpiece.
I took it and placed it in my ear, the comm crackling to life. ¡°Inquisitor,¡± Agent Farrkus''s voice came through, tense and clipped. ¡°Report.¡±
¡°I¡¯m in,¡± I replied, keeping my voice low as I moved toward the computer terminal. The probe droid hovered beside me.
The 7th Sister¡¯s voice followed, cold and impatient. ¡°Make it quick. We don¡¯t have time for mistakes.¡±
Farrkus cut in, his frustration evident. ¡°I still think we should call this off. It¡¯s too risky. If they know we¡¯re here¡ª¡±
¡°It¡¯s too late for that,¡± I interrupted, sensing the droid move to the computer. ¡°We¡¯re six feet deep in this shit already. Pulling out now isn¡¯t an option.¡±
I glanced at the droid as it began interfacing with the computer, data streams flashing across the screen. ¡°Besides,¡± I continued, ¡°something¡¯s off about Dodrias. I don¡¯t know what, but I don¡¯t like it.¡±
A tense silence settled over the comms before Farrkus spoke again. ¡°I don¡¯t care. If you feel compromised, you need to get out.¡±
I was about to respond when the faint sound of speeders caught my attention. My pulse quickened as the unmistakable hum of repulsorlifts drew closer. They were landing outside, and my gut twisted in response.
¡°A few speeders just landed outside,¡± I whispered, my anxiety spiking. ¡°I think we¡¯ve got company.¡±
The 7th Sister¡¯s voice remained steady. ¡°The droid is almost done. Hold your position.¡±
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, using the fear of discovery as fuel. Closing my eyes, I let my senses expand, pouring my awareness into the hideout, feeling the movement of those within. The energy of the place was calm. the subdued minds of my new friends didn''t seem to hear the ships. Then, something bright in the Force¡ªa presence so loud in the Force it made me recoil. I gasped, stumbling back from the terminal. The Jedi was here. I repeated the information into the commpiece.
¡°Kriff, get out of there!¡± Farrkus¡¯s voice came through urgently, almost lost amidst the noise in my mind.
¡°No,¡± the 7th Sister countered, her tone hard. ¡°Hold your position.¡±
I clenched my jaw, crouching behind the computer desk, pulling out my Westar-22 blaster pistol. My heart pounded as I tried to focus, to figure out my next move. No lightsaber, no more of the Han alibi anymore. The Jedi felt me touch his presence, he knew I was here. I was fucked.
Muffled voices came from just outside the door. Dodrias was talking to someone, his tone tense. Suddenly, Jorn and Vorn started shouting, their guttural voices filled with panic. The sound of blaster fire erupted, echoing through the corridor.
The door burst open, and I moved to rise, to fire, but a warning shot through me¡ªa flash in the Force. The grenade detonated before I could react. The sonic blast ripped through the room, sending me crashing to my knees. Pain exploded in my head, my ears ringing, my hands wet with blood as I pressed them to my ears, trying to block out the overwhelming noise. I screamed, the agony pulling every thought, every sense, into a singular point of suffering.
¡°An effective tactic against Force users,¡± I thought bitterly, my vision blurring as I struggled to stay conscious.
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¡°Fourteen, are you alive?¡± Farrkus¡¯s voice cut through the comm, distant, almost drowned out by the ringing in my ears. I couldn¡¯t answer, my body curled up on the floor, every muscle tensed against the pain. I had been careless, stupid. I should have been faster, should have anticipated the attack.
The door opened again. The Viper droid let out a series of frantic bleeps before it was blasted to pieces, the sound muffled through my damaged hearing. Weakly, I reached for the earpiece, focusing all I had left on crushing it with the Force before anyone could take it from me. The last thing I heard from the commlink was Farrkus¡¯s voice, panicked. ¡°Did he get anything?¡±
Footsteps approached, heavy boots thudding against the metal floor. Dozens of them¡ªfar more than I had ever seen in the warehouse. I could barely sense them, my awareness dulled by the pain, but there was no mistaking it. The Jedi was here, their presence a blinding beacon in the Force.
I tried to move, to fight, but my body wouldn¡¯t respond. A sharp sting hit my side, and everything went dark. Stun shot. Low setting. As the darkness swallowed me, I heard fragments of a conversation¡ªvoices that seemed to drift in and out.
¡°What did he send them, General?¡± one voice asked, unfamiliar.
Another voice, urgent, interrupted. ¡°General, he sent everything. We must move, now.¡±
Location: Nar Shaddaa - Skylanes
I woke up to the hum of a shuttle, my body swaying slightly with the movement. My head pounded, the lingering effects of the stun making it hard to focus. My hands were bound, my body slumped against the cold metal wall of the shuttle. I blinked, trying to clear my head, to get a sense of where I was and what was happening.
The memories came back in flashes¡ªthe computer room, the grenade, the Jedi. My heart sank as I realized just how badly things had gone. I had failed. Whatever information I¡¯d managed to send, it had cost me everything.
I shifted slightly, my wrists aching against the restraints. The shuttle¡¯s interior was dim, a few figures seated across from me, their faces obscured by the shadows. I could feel their eyes on me, watching, waiting. My chest tightened, fear mixing with anger. I had no clue where I was, what they would do to me. I was a villain in their eyes, some creature sent to kill them. I kept quiet, breathing in some air until my lung decided it was time to make some noise. Harsh coughs erupted from my lungs, cutting the silence and gentle hum of the ship. Footfalls of heavy boots approached where I was sitting.
¡°To think, months of attacking Imperial targets, and Vader sends one of his kath hounds?¡± disappointment rang out with the deep and commanding voice of the aged soldier, not a soft Jedi fledgling the 7th Sister suspected. A voice I had heard many times before, in a previous life.
¡°Kota.¡± I murmured under my breath, just loud enough for the Jedi General Rahm Kota to hear. A tall man, rugged features with deep scarring, broad shoulders armored by two metal shoulder pads and chest armor not too dissimilar from the Mandalorians. A brown cloak flowed from those shoulder pads, and wore a lightsaber that hung diagonally across his shoulder blades in an unorthodox sheath.
I should have known the moment we were sent to Nar Shaddaa. The attacks, hit and run, sabotage. It wasn¡¯t outright brazen attacks as he had done in the ¡®past¡¯, there was no Tie Fighter construction facility in orbit just yet. He was building up his little army, his loyal militia men. Teaching them how to fight against the Empire, and to resist us Inquisitors. He was smart, tactical with what resources he could spare.
¡°Han,¡± he said, crouching to meet my broken eyes. ¡°That¡¯s the name you gave us, right?¡±
His hand moved to the hilt of his lightsaber, and I felt the cool metal of the flanged emitter tip press beneath my chin. Anger flared from the man, a thirst for vengeance and justice urged him to activate his weapon. It was there, beneath the surface like a shark hunting an injured prey. Sooner or later, that hunter would devour its prey. Just not today.
¡°I could kill you right now. What you did to Jorn and Vorn was despicable.¡± He let out a weary sigh, the threat of death delayed for a little while longer. I could feel the exhaustion in Kota, the anxiety emanating from his men as the shuttle sped through the Nar Shaddaa skylanes. ¡°But I have a better use for you.¡±
A grim smile tugged at his lips. ¡°Your Imperial friends have likely discovered the target by now, but you can help us get inside faster. Before reinforcements arrive.¡± ¡®Before the other Inquisitor arrive¡¯, he left unspoken yet clear enough for me to sense just barely on the surface of his mind.
¡°General, I¡¯ve barely been in this sector long enough to help you get past any se¡ª¡± I began, attempting to argue, willing to play along. This man was far more dangerous to me right now than he had any right to be. I just needed to live long enough to get those reinforcements here, delay him enough.
¡°Security codes, schematics¡ªall of it, we have. What we need is extra muscle,¡± he explained.
That caught me off guard. I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle, which quickly grew into a fit of laughter. It was genuine, painful, reverberating through the metal cabin. A few tears slid down my face, and I brought my shoulder up to wipe them away.
¡°Come now, General. You¡¯re willing to take that risk? I could kill you, and all your men if I wished.¡± I looked up at him, sensing his echo in the Force¡ªa vortex of energy, a whirlpool lazily circling a spout. Tense yet calm, ready to spring into action at any moment.
¡°You haven¡¯t,¡± Kota replied, standing upright. ¡°So, I offer you a choice. Die alongside your fellow Imperials, with the facility burning around you,¡± he said, his voice cold, ¡°or strike back against the Empire with us.¡±
I scoffed. ¡°That isn¡¯t much of a choice, Kota. This is the biggest gamble of your life. Why would you even risk it?¡± I prodded again. Truthfully, I had enjoyed my time within the Kutters, or whatever Kota¡¯s merry band of misfits called themselves. I¡¯d expressed my distaste for the Imperial hierarchy to blend in. I could only guess that through word of mouth or direct sensing, Kota had picked up on it.
Kota sighed heavily. ¡°I can sense your future, boy. And Vader won¡¯t always be your master.¡±
Another bark of laughter escaped me. ¡°Is it crazy if I told you, I¡¯ve heard that before?¡±
¡°General, ETA 60 seconds!¡± the pilot shouted from the front. His voice rippled with fear and uncertainty¡ªperfect fuel for the fight ahead.
Rahm Kota nodded in acknowledgment and looked back at me, waving his hand. The restraints fell to the floor with a metallic clink. One hand extended toward me, the other holding his lightsaber, the emitter once again pointed at my chin.
¡°What will it be, Han?¡±
Location: Nar Shaddaa - Low Orbit Traffic Controller Station 73826-S
"Clearance code is 17C-SK007," a young man¡¯s voice informed Captain Wiiks. A bead of nervous sweat rolled down his neck. An Inquisitor was coming to the station for an impromptu visit! When he asked for the reason, Captain Wiiks realized how foolish it was to question the purpose of such an important Imperial visitor. The code was valid, showing the Fourteenth Brother''s security clearance. Records noted him as investigating regional issues with another Inquisitor, which the Captain confirmed with a quick glance at the datapad in hand.
¡°You are cleared for landing,¡± stated one of the facility¡¯s many droids, stationed at the communication terminal. The command center was full of them; they were far more efficient than lifeforms that required rest. Only minimal sentient staff were aboard, most of them Imperial security forces and extra personnel. Droids handled even repairs and maintenance, funded through a joint effort of Imperial credits and Nar Shadaa''s ruling Hutt, Grakkus.
"I shall meet the Inquisitor personally. Inform the troops to convene at Hangar A2," Wiiks ordered, turning and quickly trotting out of the command post, illuminated by the glow of red-lit screens. The doors opened to a long hallway leading to a turbolift. After punching in the floor level, the lift descended to the lower levels. The view was breathtaking: quadruple-reinforced plasteel mesh glass shielded the cold, turbulent low atmosphere, creating a panoramic tube to gaze down at the planet from. It was his favorite part of the assignment, the only part he truly enjoyed, though the view lasted only a few seconds before he was met with black, sterile corridors once again. He hurried from the barracks and repair rooms located on one side of the facility toward the hangar bay on the opposite side.
Stopping outside the hangar doors, Captain Wiiks imagined the troopers already inside, twenty of them in parade formation, waiting. Adjusting his code cylinders, he stepped into the hangar. Inside, the Imperial Stormtroopers stood at attention, and the shuttle was already parked. It was a type-B class shuttle, often favored by the Confederacy of Independent Systems during the Clone Wars¡ªa Sheathipede model with a bulbous front and extended cabin. Unlike the class-E, this shuttle could transport a substantial amount of cargo rather than just a few dignitaries.
From his position, Wiiks noticed the pilot wasn¡¯t visible. He walked forward, his boot heels echoing on the waxed hangar floor, pride swelling as he observed the troopers'' polished armor. He had high standards for gear maintenance; out here in the Outer Rim, the brig served as a reminder for anyone who neglected those standards. Now standing at the end of the column of troopers, Wiiks watched as the shuttle¡¯s ramp lowered, giving him time to steady his nerves. Stories of the Inquisitors were as daunting as those about Darth Vader. Clad in black armor and gray garments, they were formidable and fearsome. With a hiss of escaping gas, the ramp extended fully.
¡°My Lord Inquisitor, it is my honor to welcome you,¡± Captain Wiiks greeted, bowing deeply.
¡°Thank you, Captain,¡± echoed the voice he had heard earlier. It was young, reminding him of an aristocratic senator he once met during a cargo inspection. This encounter, however, was unlikely to be as congenial as that with the courteous Senator Oppo. Raising his head, Wiiks took in the Inquisitor¡¯s entourage: twenty-five men, all armed and wearing makeshift armor. The one who spoke wasn¡¯t dressed in an Inquisitor''s garb but that of a second-rate mercenary.
Instinctively, Wiiks reached for his sidearm. ¡°My Lord, what is the meaning of this?¡± he demanded, hand moving to release the strap but stopping short of drawing his weapon. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±
The Fourteenth Brother cast a wary glance over the troopers behind Wiiks, then leaned to whisper to the gray-haired man beside him. ¡°Your call, Kota. Diplomacy or not?¡±
The General deliberated, extending his senses through the Force to gauge the flow of events. He was aware the shuttle¡¯s clearance would be flagged immediately upon entry¡ªan oversight in his rush to complete this mission. In a swift motion, his green lightsaber ignited. This time, there was no battle cry. The Imperial soldiers behind Wiiks scrambled in alarm, some taking cover and others kneeling to fire quick shots as Kota¡¯s militia fired back, taking cover behind the shuttle ramp. Kota deflected the blaster fire, adopting a defensive stance to protect his men.
Captain Wiiks tried to move but found himself paralyzed, his eyes widening as he saw the Inquisitor holding him in place with the Dark Side. None of the troopers had attempted to retaliate against the traitor yet; their attention was entirely on the Jedi and his militia.
¡°Please, my Lord, why¡ª¡± His plea was cut short as a blue saber ignited, the beam whizzing through the air and severing his head.
¡°I hate it when they beg,¡± Alonzo muttered, noticing several E-11 blaster rifles now pointed in his direction. A confident grin spread across his face. He was finally free to unleash his fury¡ªa perfect excuse to butcher Imperials before killing off General Rahm Kota.
Chapter 10: Shatterpoint
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 10: Shatterpoint
¡°It is such a quiet thing, to fall. But far more terrible is to admit it.¡±
Location: Nar Shadda Low Orbit
Intoxicating. Rapturous. I felt alive, like I had been sleeping for so long and only just awakened with renewed vigor. That is what it meant to be engulfed in the Dark Side. Cruelty and malice were foreign to my mind. Precision and speed were my goals, efficiency my path forwards. And these stupid ¡®stormies¡¯ stood in my path. The facility had one hundred of them for security, and I estimated about twenty five had been slain by the combination of myself, Kota and his shock troopers. The hangar was filled with their broken corpses and that of the captain. During our entrance and landing into the hangar, one of the men had managed to slice into the station''s communication array to locally block their comms. The facility''s droids were hard at work trying to undo it, giving us roughly ten minutes to break their lines, with minimal casualties and take control of the station before reinforcements arrived.
¡®Yeah, easier said than done.¡¯ I thought, deflecting a barrage of blaster bolts firing from not only the brave stormtroopers, but defensive automatic turrets that were installed into the walls and ceilings of the station. After knocking a blaster bolt into the chest of one of the troopers, sending him reeling back in a crumpled heap of plastic encased flesh, I jumped back into cover with the rest of the Kota¡¯s Kutters. The hallways were hexagonal in shape, with portions that jutted out at corners and crossroads. We had sealed the door behind us, with our only option being the fortified hallway to our right.
I looked to the rest of them, sensing their excitement through the Force, tinged with a sliver of fear¡ªa quiet tension that pulsed beneath their readiness. Kota¡¯s men were different from the thugs I loitered around with. The whole operation for the Kutters was likely bigger than we had discovered. I shut down my borrowed lightsaber and turned my senses to Kota, gently stepping into the boundaries of his own Force attuned senses. I let him know my displeasure.
¡°If I had my rotary saber, this would be a cakewalk,¡± I muttered, glancing sidelong at Kota.
He slipped a grumpy humph, crossing his arms. ¡°If you knew how to wield a lightsaber, it would be easy.¡±
¡°So why aren¡¯t you helping?¡± I snapped back, irritation flashing through me. ¡°You don¡¯t have time to sit around!¡±
Kota raised an eyebrow, studying me with a mixture of amusement and scrutiny. ¡°I¡To see if my fears were misplaced,¡± he said thoughtfully, slowly, his gaze steady. ¡°And they are.¡± He punctuated his words by jabbing a finger into my chest, firm but almost reassuring.
Turning to the others, he raised his voice with authority. ¡°Men, Han and I will push forward. Keep to cover and take out those turrets first!¡±
The troops responded with wordless nods and murmured, "Yes, General," tensing up and preparing to rush forward with the two of us leading the charge.
I felt a fierce surge of energy as Kota reached for his lightsaber and bolted around the corner to confront the entrenched turrets and armored troopers. I ignited my own blue blade, positioning myself to shore up the defense on the left flank. More troopers poured in from behind, using us as a steadfast shield while they bolstered our line. Their concentrated fire quickly turned the closest turrets into smoking, twisted barrels of slag, filling the corridor with the acrid scent of scorched metal.
The hallway reverberated with the sounds of blaster fire and the hum of lightsabers. Kota moved like a force of nature, every motion swift and deliberate, each slash of his saber cutting through enemy ranks with an elegance that was unexpected. I stayed close, deflecting bolts aimed at us, my blue blade a blur as I redirected the shots toward the advancing stormtroopers. He was right in a way, the rotary saber made it all too easy. A crutch.
We were making headway. The stormtroopers were struggling to hold their ground, their formations collapsing under our relentless advance. The glossy obsidian walls mirrored the chaos¡ªa dance of light and shadow, punctuated by explosions and the flash of energy. Behind us, the Kutters shock troopers moved with precision, taking cover and targeting the remaining automated turrets until they, too, fell silent.
¡°Push forward!¡± Kota¡¯s voice cut through the noise, his command resonating with authority. The troopers surged again, flanking us as we pressed toward the next corridor. I felt a tightening of anticipation, the dark energy of the conflict twisting around us, amplifying the tension. I gritted my teeth, channeling the aggression burning within me¡ªevery ounce of irritation, every ounce of focus¡ªinto a damn that would break soon enough. I wanted Kota to know better than to underestimate me.
Suddenly, blaster fire intensified from the next turn, a series of red bolts streaking toward us in rapid succession. I stepped forward, raising my lightsaber in a high guard, drawing on the Force to enhance my awareness. The bolts flew at us, but I deflected them one by one, angling each shot back toward its source. Minimal movement, quick retaliation was the goal.
Kota glanced over at me, a small smirk playing at the edge of his lips. ¡°Not bad, Han. Maybe I should just let you take the lead.¡±
I shot him a glare, using my irritation as fuel, feeling the Dark Side simmer beneath the surface. ¡°Just keep moving, old man,¡± I muttered, slashing through the last remaining trooper blocking our path.
Kota laughed, an almost joyful sound amidst the carnage. ¡°How much time left Plazzo?¡±
I looked at the slicer, sensed his mind as he shifted his attention from his blaster and to the chrono on his wrist. ¡°Eight minutes.¡± I said for him, earning a confused pulse of emotions from the rebel fighter.
Eight minutes to take the command center and secure the station. It wasn¡¯t enough time, but it would have to be. I felt that pressure bearing down on me, like a weight that threatened to crush my focus. I couldn¡¯t afford to let up, not even for a second.
As we rounded another corner, a squad of stormtroopers stood in our path, their blasters raised. They fired, red bolts streaking through the dark corridor. I stepped forward, letting the aggression fuel me, my blue lightsaber a blur as I deflected the shots. One bolt ricocheted back, striking a trooper in the chest, sending him sprawling backward in a heap. Kota rushed past me, his own lightsaber cutting through the air with practiced precision, slicing through armor and flesh as if it were paper. I had to deflect the shots as accurately as possible, not wanting to play pinball with Kota in the line of fire.
The stormtroopers began to falter, their formation breaking apart as they struggled against our relentless advance. I could feel their fear, a palpable wave that rippled through the Force, and I seized on it, letting it bolster my own power. I lunged forward, my lightsaber flashing as I severed a trooper¡¯s arm, his scream echoing through the corridor. He fell to his knees, clutching the stump where his arm had been, and I lazily removed his head with a casual flick of the wrist. I didn¡¯t have time to play around. I wanted to see this through, I wanted to see just what I could do. I sensed another trooper''s fear right around the corner, the last of his squad. He should have ran further up the corridor, where I sensed more of the Imperials.
¡°The blast door ahead is shut. General. Give me a moment to get it open.¡±, Plazzo spoke up, feeding me information and giving me an idea.
I wrapped the Dark side around the last remaining stormtrooper''s armor and pulled, earning a scream as he was now five feet away, suspended in the air. He now had several scavenged blasters trained on him, and I could sense the intent to train the barrels on me as well.
¡°P-please!¡±, he started, and I just rolled my eyes. I pulled him closer, the lightsaber still ignited. ¡°Plazzo, how long will it take?¡±
¡°Uh, one minute or so.¡± he responded, warily removing an access panel on one of the walls.
Hands were cleaved through, and I reached out with the Force, focusing intently on the echoes of the battle. One trooper had wished to use the grenade all of them were equipped with, but never got the chance when a stray bolt domed him right in the head. That desperation linked me to that same Baradium core thermal detonator. All of them to be precise, tuning my senses to detect the unique signature of the Baradium in a few moments.
All around us, a handful of thermal detonators now floated freely and I smiled. I activated them, and the hapless, hopeless stormtrooper once again tried to beg for his life. He had two seconds of that remaining life wasted, as he was hurled across the corridor with several of his dead squadmates'' grenades against the blast door.
The sound of the explosion was deafening, metal groaning and creaking and alarms began to blare louder. Confusion was rippling alongside the soundwaves of the energy''s impact, several enemy troopers were dead from the shrapnel.
Kota didn¡¯t say a word as he reignited his saber and charged ahead, but I could sense his disapproval, a flicker of unease at my ruthlessness. It only served to irritate me further, to push me deeper into the aggression that fueled my every intent. It was a necessity. I also understood why none of his troopers had grenades on hand.
Another group of stormtroopers rushed in to fortify the breach, their blasters firing in a desperate attempt to hold us back. The Kutters pushed past me with the General as I extended my hand, reaching out with the Force, and I felt their minds¡ªpanicked, disoriented, desperate. I focused on one of them near the back of the impromptu cover they hid behind. I was pushing into his thoughts, twisting his fear into something darker.
¡°Your allies are traitors. Kill them.¡± I whispered, my voice barely audible over the chaos.
The trooper hesitated for a moment, his blaster trembling in his hands. Then, as if in a trance, he turned, firing on the troopers beside him. They shouted in confusion, their armor sparking as the bolts struck, and I felt a dark satisfaction as they fell, one by one. The trooper who had fired the shots stood there, his blaster still smoking, his breathing ragged. I could feel his horror, his disbelief at what he had done.
¡°Now end your own suffering,¡± I commanded, my voice cold and unwavering.
Without a word, the trooper raised his blaster to his own head and pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot echoed through the corridor, and he crumpled to the ground, lifeless. I felt a surge of power, a dark thrill that coursed through me, and I couldn¡¯t help but relish it. This was what it meant to wield the Dark Side¡ªto have absolute control, to bend others to your will.
Kota moved ahead, his lightsaber cutting through the remaining troopers, his focus unwavering. I could sense his determination, his drive to complete the mission, but there was something else there too¡ªa wariness, a concern that lingered at the edge of his thoughts. A lingering, sliver of a doubt. I wanted him to be afraid.
¡°Keep moving!¡± Kota shouted, his voice cutting through my lingering thoughts. ¡°We¡¯re running out of time!¡±
I nodded, pushing forward to join them further down another twisting corridor, my lightsaber slicing through another trooper who dared to stand in our way. The corridor ahead opened up into a larger chamber, the entrance to the command center. I somewhat sense the fortified doors at the far end, and the number of swirling energies from traffic droids and the few security guards within the command center. I knew that was our target. But between us and those doors stood a full platoon of stormtroopers, their blasters trained on us, ready to make their last stand.
Kota didn¡¯t hesitate. He raised his hand, and a powerful wave of Force energy erupted from him, slamming into the front line of troopers, sending them crashing into the walls. I followed his lead, jumping overhead and over the turret placements, my swing a blur of blue light as I cut through the enemy stationed at one of the E-Webbs. The troopers fired, but their shots were wild, panicked, and I deflected them with ease, each movement fueled by the aggression that burned within me.
The shock troopers moved in behind us, their blasters firing in controlled bursts, taking down the remaining turrets that lined the walls. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and burnt metal, the sounds of battle echoing off the obsidian walls. We were close now¡ªso close to our goal¡ªbut the clock was ticking, and I could feel the pressure mounting with every passing second.
Kota gestured toward the command center doors. ¡°Han, get those doors open! We¡¯ll cover you!¡±
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I nodded, moving toward the control panel beside the doors. I could feel the droids working to break through our technician¡¯s block, their electronic presence a constant pressure at the edge of my senses. We didn¡¯t have much time. I reached out with the Force, feeling the mechanisms within the door, the complex web of circuits and locks that held it shut. With a deep breath, I focused, pulling on the Dark Side, letting it guide me as I manipulated the controls.
Behind me, Kota and the shock troopers held the line, their blasters and his lightsaber cutting down any stormtrooper who dared to approach from the other sides of the facility. I could hear the shouts of the enemy, the cries of pain as they fell, but I shut it all out, focusing only on the task at hand. The Dark Side flowed through me, a cold, relentless power that pushed me to move faster, to be more precise.
The door controls sparked, and I felt the lock give way. The heavy doors began to slide open, revealing the command center beyond. It was a large room, filled with consoles and screens, the walls lined with windows that looked out into the vastness of space. I could see the technicians inside, their faces pale as they realized what was happening.
¡°Go!¡± Kota shouted, and I moved, charging into the command center, my lightsaber ready. The technicians scattered, some trying to flee, others attempting to reach for blasters that were mounted on the walls. I didn¡¯t give them the chance. I moved through the room like a storm, my blade cutting through consoles and personnel alike, leaving nothing but destruction in my wake.
Kota followed, his own lightsaber cutting down those who tried to resist. The shock troopers moved in behind us, securing the room, taking control of the consoles that were still operational. I could feel the power of the command center, the control it offered, and I knew that we had succeeded. The station was now theirs.
I heard the sound of a lightsaber disengaging, and a feeling of relief washed over the surviving crew.
¡°Well done, men, and with time to spare,¡± Kota said, his voice filled with a rare note of approval. I could imagine his smile in my mind, changing his harsh features to something soft, grandfatherly almost.
I deactivated my lightsaber, the blue blade retracting with a sharp hiss, and turned to face him. He was already looking at me, his echoing Force signature unreadable. The heat of battle and divided focus made him easier to read earlier, but now he was that same stalwart wall of confidence and ego.
¡°Like I said on the ride here, boy.¡± he began, ¡°you have a choice.¡±
¡°You gave me the illusion of choice, and you are doing it again, Jedi.¡± I spat out, igniting my saber. ¡°I won¡¯t let you take this station completely.¡±
Confidently, or stupidly, Kota continued, hands behind his back as several of his men aimed their rifles at me. ¡°Falon Grey. My Padawan, that was the lightsaber he held before he was murdered by one of your kind. I hoped it would serve another Jedi, if you would return to our ways.¡±
¡°Return?¡± I laughed. ¡°I¡¯ve been an Inquisitor ever since¡well, it doesn¡¯t matter.¡± I shrugged, my position unwavering. ¡°I doubt I could ever be a Jedi after all of this.¡± I wanted to keep him talking, stalling. There was something out there, I could feel it on the edge. Something familiar.
"General, we have incoming bombers on the scopes!" one of the troopers called out. Sister, I thought with surprise and a tinge of fear. They had found the target in time and now planned to destroy it entirely.
"Dank farrik," Kota muttered under his breath. "Those shields better be up right now, and Plazzo, how are we looking?"
"Fulcrum¡¯s codes worked, General." A flicker of fear pulsed from Kota as he looked at me. That was something I was not supposed to be privy to. I knew too much; I was antagonistic. The ball was now in my court.
"So, we have a name now. Fulcrum," I smiled, shutting my saber off. "You aren¡¯t working alone like 7th thought." I had a suspicion he would be working with Bail Organa like in the Legends timeline, but to be working directly with Ahsoka¡ªthat piqued my interest.
The blasters were still aimed, and the bombers continued their trajectory towards the facility. Kota¡¯s hand was tentatively on the hilt of his saber, ready for conflict.
"Plazzo, patch me into those bombers. Override TRZP-117496," I called out, raising my hands above my head.
"Sir?" Plazzo called out for permission.
"Do it," Kota barked, his grip now firm on the leather wrap of his lightsaber.
"Patching you through."
"This is Imperial Officer TK-1138, authorization code 56P0045. Stand down, I repeat, stand down. The situation is under control. And tell the 7th Sister hi for me," I said evenly, making sure my voice could be heard.
"Roger that, sir, returning to base," came the crackle of the TIE pilot''s muffled helmet voice over the intercom.
"Now, we can continue this without the looming threat of a bombing run on our heads, as fun as that would be," I said, lowering my hands, trying to play it cool. I was going to pay dearly for that, but it would be worth it in the long run.
Kota nodded, and turned to the troopers, ordering them around. His senses were tuned to me at all times, even as he discussed the plan with his men and Plazzo. As he talked, I focused inwards, peaking at the dark side energy roiling inside, ready to burst at any moment. It was a miracle General Kota didn¡¯t sense it yet, the fuel of the battle made me wish to tap into that powerful reserve many a time to wipe his men out. But I was patient, playing my games and his to wait for the right moment. A bombing strike would have helped, using the impact of the blasts and stumbling foot soldiers to my advantage.
Sadly, I¡¯m just stubborn and like doing things the hard way. My senses lifted into the waking worlds as Plazzo finished up his tasks.
¡°Grav drives off, safeties unlocked, and¡¡± my stomach drifted up into my throat. Now, it was time.
¡°You¡¯re dead.¡±, I interrupted, igniting my saber and letting the Dark Side envelop me again. I let it escape, thrusting my hands out in both directions.
A dark burst of energy snaked out from all directions, shattering glass, sending troopers flying, bones breaking, necks snapping. A display of furious power, even Kota was sent flying back, cushioning his impact with a split second cushion of a Force Barrier.
Force Repulse was devastating in close quarters like the command center we occupied. That was attached to a low orbit traffic control facility. Which happened to be plummeting to Nar Shadda below. I had to do this quickly, and get to the hangar in time.
¡°I¡¯m going to kill you Kota. Do please make it as fun as I remember.¡± I requested, igniting the lightsaber that belonged to his Padawan. Force Barriers, lightsaber throws, and telekinetic balls of slag. Heating glass as an environmental hazard. It wouldn¡¯t be the same like in the old games, I just hope I had the skills to actually kill the old man.
Kota¡¯s face was set with grim determination as he moved toward me, his steps cautious but unwavering. Around us, the command center was a ruin of shattered glass and fallen troopers, smoke curling from broken consoles and sparking droids strewn across the floor. His saber burned bright green, a sharp contrast against the chaotic flickering lights. My grip tightened on my own hilt, savoring the thrum of energy coursing through it.
¡°Is this your plan?¡± he taunted, circling. ¡°I expected better.¡± My smirk held no humor. ¡°Those were the exact words the Grand Inquisitor said to Grey before he was executed.¡±
With a shout, Kota surged forward, and our blades collided in a blaze of light. I let the dark side fill me, pouring my aggression into each block and parry, each strike intended to wear him down. He was relentless, a blur of green light as he forced me back step by step, his strikes filled with the weight of his conviction. But I matched him, deflecting his blows, twisting around him with calculated steps.
We broke apart for a brief moment, each gauging the other. Without hesitation, I reached out with the Force, lifting the limp form of a fallen droid and hurtling it toward him. Kota reacted instantly, slicing it in half midair, sending sparks and broken metal raining down around us. I used the distraction to dart in, bringing my saber up in a powerful arc aimed at his blind side.
But he was fast, too fast, his saber meeting mine in a searing clash that filled the air with sparks. Our blades locked, crackling with fierce energy, our faces inches apart. I pushed against him, feeding my strength with raw emotion, feeling the strain in his grip as he struggled to hold his ground.
¡°Getting old and slow now, General?¡± I sneered, digging in, watching his face contort with the effort.
His answer was a sudden push that threw me back. I staggered, barely managing to deflect his next strike as he followed up, his saber a whirlwind of green light. I sidestepped and seized another broken droid with the Force, swinging it into his path. Kota snarled, batting it aside, but I lifted another and another, creating a barrage of droid fragments that hammered down on him from all sides.
I could see the strain in his stance, his movements slowing as he fought off each piece of debris. He knew this game, knew I was testing his endurance, and he was determined not to show weakness. But the opening I needed was there. I lunged forward, breaking through his defenses in a quick, fluid motion, our blades locking again.
This time, I didn¡¯t relent. I bore down with everything I had, pouring my strength into the saber lock, bringing us closer. I tilted my saber slightly, letting the edge of my blade inch toward his face. His resistance faltered just enough. The brilliant blue light of my saber flared against his eyes, the heat searing his face as I pressed forward.
Kota cried out, wrenching himself back, one hand clutching his face. Blood trickled from the edge of his brow where my blade had burned him. He stumbled, half-blind, his stance faltering.
¡°Hurts, doesn¡¯t it?¡± I mocked, circling him now, watching him struggle to orient himself, his senses scrambling to make up for his lost vision. I lifted a broken console with the Force and launched it at him. He managed to dodge, but his movements were slower, unsteady.
¡°Falon would be ashamed to see his saber wielded by someone like you,¡± Kota spat, still clutching at his injured face.
¡°Then let it witness your end,¡± I retorted, using his momentary pause to pull a massive chunk of debris from the ceiling and hurl it toward him. Kota weakly raised his saber, slicing through it, but the impact staggered him, forcing him to one knee.
I extended my hand, letting dark energy coil through my fingers. His hand moved to his throat as I tightened my grip through the Force, lifting him slowly off his feet. He clawed at his neck, his saber slipping from his hand as his face contorted in pain.
¡°You should live,¡± I whispered, savoring the sight of him struggling, helpless. ¡°But I don¡¯t care.¡±
With one final twist of my wrist, I tightened my hold, and his body went limp, crumpling to the floor in silence. I stood over him, victorious, savoring the satisfaction as the sounds of the plummeting station filled the command center.
Sister, come get me. I thought, reaching my senses to the planet below, linking together with her thoughts as she had been attempting to find me this whole time. Her senses were strained, pushing out this far but I was¡touched that she tried.
Find a comm.
I blinked. Then grimaced, feeling the heat start to grow. Fucking bitch. Scooping up the lightsaber from the cooling corpse of the fallen Jedi, I made my way to one of the few working comm stations. I used the Force, coupling it with my Force Sight to activate a comm channel, and use a voice command to help me navigate. In a few moments, 7th Sister¡¯s voice came from the other side.
¡°Fourteen, do you read me? Are you there?¡±
I let out a cough, breathing in some of the smoke was getting to me. ¡°I read you loud and clear, what do you need? Mission Accomplished, Jedi eliminated. Get me the kriff outta here.¡±
Agent Farrkus¡¯ voice filtered through the dodgy audio from the device. ¡°Well done and congratulations, however, the station is still falling.¡±
I groaned in frustration and slammed my fist on the console. ¡°No fucking shit Farrkus, why don¡¯t you slice into the place and send it back up?!¡±
¡°Calm down brother.¡± admonished 7th Sister, ¡°We need access from your side. Codes can be given and you just need to input them. However, there is another solution¡¡±
¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I ask, my voice getting hoarse with the inhalation of electrical smoke.
¡°You can direct it to Zalrio Plaza. This would let the Empire use this attack as an excuse for a heavier presnece on Nar Shadda! Think of what we could do with-¡±
¡°Are you crazy?¡± I cut in. I was numb, cold. That was the stupidest thing I had heard today. There was no way the Empire, whose facility was attacked, and used as a weapon, would be able to negotiate with the Hutts to push and put more of their people onto this moon.
¡°Then you can die up there brother.¡± stated the tech savvy Mirilian.
I chuckled, shaking my head. ¡°Sister, I¡¯ve done worse.¡±
I let out a sigh, ¡°Now, the codes.¡±
At least I wasn¡¯t bombing a planet, I thought to myself, hearing the ISB Agent rattle off the access codes I needed.
Chapter 11: Brief Debrief
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 11: Debrief
¡°The Dark Side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities, some consider to be unnatural.¡±
Location: Fortress Inquisitorious
The darkness enveloped me. My quarters were small, letting the dozens of holo stations reporting on the attack fill the room as I listened in.
¡°Fifteen thousand confirmed dead in a terror attack on Zalrio Plaza.¡±
¡°Authorities have yet to clear the wreckage.¡±
¡°An Imperial-owned traffic controller was dropped from low orbit that night.¡±
¡°Rogue Jedi Rham Kota boarded and commandeered the station with the help of his own militia¡ª¡±
The reporting was surprisingly accurate, given that Agent Farrkus had spun the tale that Kota and his Kutters were responsible for the chaos on Vexcron City. Defense turrets were sliced, letting the massive structure descend in a slow yet deadly drop. Seventh Sister played her part, bringing the thrusters back online just enough to avoid a total annihilation of the city. But I knew Vader wouldn¡¯t hesitate to sacrifice Imperial lives if it suited him; it was a ruthlessness he had no reason to hide.
I dismissed the news with a wave of my hand, and the projectors flickered off. The local reports were sufficiently twisted to align with what the ISB wanted. I¡¯d finished my own report hours ago, keeping the mention of ¡°Fulcrum¡± out for now¡ªsomething I felt best left to a direct conversation. Satisfied, I leaned back into the darkness, reaching out with my senses.
Even beyond the walls of my chamber, the fortress was alive. Flickers of light in the Force¡ªeach Imperial a small, radiant point in the darkness, each emotion twisting the color and strength of their aura. I lingered on fear here, resentment there, an anxiety clouding a technician who was likely nearing a promotion or worse. All fed into the dark well within me. Observation had always been my means of meditation, sharpening my senses and deepening my immersion in the Dark Side. It was different for each Inquisitor, and as I would imagine for each Jedi if they were allowed the freedom.
The metallic wrap of a knock echoed in the room, breaking my focus, but I already sensed the familiar presence on the other side.
¡°Enter,¡± I said, sitting up as the door hissed open.
The door slid aside to reveal TK-421, now a captain without a squad. He stepped forward, his movements sharp but edged with something I could taste¡ªa familiar, simmering fear he tried to bury.
¡°Captain,¡± I greeted, allowing the word to hang between us, a reminder of our last encounter. His life had once hung by a thread, and only Vader¡¯s command had spared him. Now, he served as my aide and pilot¡ªa calculated positioning on Vader''s part, one that allowed him to keep an eye on us both.
¡°Sir,¡± TK-421 began, his filtered voice steady, masking the tension beneath. ¡°The Grand Inquisitor has summoned you.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
I nodded, pushing myself off the seat and brushing past him. As we walked down the winding corridors, fellow officers and technicians paused, giving us a wide berth. A few murmured voices filtered through, discussing some door repairs and debris left from a recent "tantrum." Disagreements happened often enough between us Inquisitors, and it comes to blows on the rare occasion. TK-421 kept close behind, his footsteps echoing against the fortress¡¯s metallic floor.
Breaking the silence, I glanced over my shoulder. ¡°So, Captain, have you taken a swim yet?¡±
His hesitation was almost amusing. ¡°No, sir,¡± he replied finally, looking straight ahead. ¡°I never learned how to swim.¡±
¡°Shame. A clone would have found that embarrassing.¡± I smirked, and he only gave a stiff nod. His expression remained hidden under his helmet, but I sensed his faint irritation, mingling with the fear he tried to ignore. Letting that awareness wash over me, I smiled and turned my focus forward as we approached the meeting room.
The Grand Inquisitor was already waiting inside, his posture rigid as we entered. TK-421 offered a sharp salute, which the Inquisitor acknowledged with a quick nod before directing his cold yellowed eye gaze at me.
¡°Leave us,¡± he ordered. The Captain glanced at me briefly, then stepped back, taking his time to get to the door.
¡°I am surprised you managed to pull off such a feat, Brother,¡± the Grand Inquisitor remarked, his tone assessing.
I raised a hand, earning a slight lift of his brow. ¡°The Captain will stay. He¡¯ll be joining me on my next assignment.¡±
The Inquisitor¡¯s confusion was evident, though he quickly concealed it. ¡°I was unaware of any new assignments,¡± he replied, his tone hardening as realization dawned. ¡°Lord Vader went over my head again, didn¡¯t he?¡±
I offered only a thin smile, confirming his suspicions without words.
The debrief began. I recounted my arrival on Nar Shaddaa with Seventh Sister, the infiltration of Kota¡¯s gang, my use of mind tricks to earn a foothold, the moment I was exposed, and the ensuing chaos as Kota¡¯s forces took the station. I left nothing out, though I refrained from mentioning any second thoughts I might have had in the heat of it all.
The Grand Inquisitor¡¯s gaze was unyielding. ¡°And killing fellow Imperials?¡± he asked, as if assessing my commitment.
I gestured at TK-421. ¡°I¡¯ve killed his squad,¡± I replied with a smirk, ¡°no different there, just a bit better at it. Even used one as a detonator.¡± The memory sparked a dark chuckle.
The Inquisitor leaned forward, his tone almost curious. ¡°Your assessment of the Jedi¡¯s skills?¡±
¡°Formidable,¡± I answered honestly. ¡°Had he not been worn from the battle and properly distracted, I doubt I¡¯d have succeeded. I kept my skills hidden, played the fool. He doubted me¡ªand that doubt was his undoing.¡±
¡°Very good,¡± the Inquisitor¡¯s thin smile was approving, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. ¡°You are learning.¡± His gaze sharpened. ¡°But I sense there is something else you wish to report.¡±
¡°Does the name ¡®Fulcrum¡¯ mean anything to you?¡± I asked, folding my arms and shifting my weight.
He raised a brow, intrigued. ¡°No. Why?¡±
I let the question hang a moment. ¡°Kota¡¯s men slipped up, mentioning the name during the attack. Apparently, they acquired the codes they needed from this ¡®Fulcrum.¡¯ There¡¯s a spy somewhere in our ranks.¡±
The Grand Inquisitor¡¯s eyes narrowed, then he nodded. ¡°I will assign Seventh Sister to investigate. For now, it appears Lord Vader has other plans for you.¡±
I inclined my head and gestured to TK-421. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Captain.¡±
As we left, I could feel the Grand Inquisitor¡¯s calculating gaze on my back. No doubt he would be watching closely for any sign of further deviation. But for now, I had another mission.
¡°Prep the ship, Captain,¡± I ordered as we walked away. ¡°We¡¯re going to Bellassa.¡±
Chapter 12: A Day in the Life
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 12: A Day in the Life
"He was the most gifted apprentice, second only to Anakin. With so many gifts, he is a formidable opponent to the Empire."
Location: Ballassa- Ussa City
The first rays of dawn bathed Ussa City in a soft golden glow, the sun rising over its seven interconnected lakes like a guardian waking from slumber. The shimmering water stretched across the city¡¯s heart, reflecting the vibrant hues of the morning sky. Bridges, both ancient and modern, arched over the waterways, their designs a testament to Ussa¡¯s rich history. The oldest districts nestled along the lakeshores with cobblestone streets and weathered buildings, while the newer sectors climbed the hills, filled with sleek, glass-fronted structures that glistened like jewels.
Ferus Olin stood by the window of his modest apartment, sipping from a steaming cup of caffe. He winced as the heat scorched his tongue, muttering a curse under his breath. Setting the mug on the windowsill, he let his gaze wander to the bustling streets below. Vendors were beginning to set up their stalls along the lakeside promenade, their movements quick and purposeful. A few speeders zipped by, their engines humming softly in the early quiet.
As his eyes scanned the scene, they landed on a young blind man sitting against a wall across the street from his shop. The man held a tin cup tilted toward passersby, his unseeing eyes staring straight ahead. His clothes were tattered, his face unkempt and filthy. A pang of pity struck Ferus, but he hesitated. Helping openly in a city so heavily monitored by the Empire could invite unwanted scrutiny.
Just as Ferus debated heading downstairs, the blind man turned his face toward him, as though sensing his gaze. For a brief, unsettling moment, their eyes seemed to meet. Ferus stepped back from the window, his heart racing. ¡°You¡¯re imagining things,¡± he muttered, shaking his head. When he looked again, pedestrians were walking past, oblivious to the blind man¡¯s presence.
The repair shop Ferus ran with his partner, Roan Land, was nestled in a quieter district near one of Ussa¡¯s smaller lakes. The building was unassuming, its exterior a mix of weathered stone and durasteel reinforcements. The sign above the entrance bore the simple name "Olin & Land Repairs" in bold Aurebesh letters. Inside, the shop was a blend of functionality and chaos. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with spare parts, tools, and containers of lubricant. A small counter near the entrance doubled as a workspace, its surface perpetually cluttered with datapads and broken components.
The heart of the shop was the main repair bay, where workbenches stood amidst a tangle of half-repaired droids, speeder bike engines, and diagnostic tools. The air carried a faint metallic tang, mixed with the scent of machine oil and the ozone bite of recently soldered circuits. Light streamed through a series of high windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
Roan was already at one of the workbenches when Ferus arrived, hunched over a battered delivery droid. His red hair was a messy halo, and his green eyes were narrowed in concentration as he tightened a connector inside the droid¡¯s casing.
¡°Morning,¡± Roan said without looking up.
Ferus dropped his jacket on a nearby chair and sighed. ¡°Morning. You¡¯re early.¡±
¡°You¡¯re late,¡± Roan replied, smirking as he grabbed a hydrospanner. ¡°This thing¡¯s been glitching all morning. Apparently, it tried to deliver a crate of fruit to the wrong lake district. Almost dunked the cargo into the water.¡±
Ferus crouched beside the droid, inspecting its navigation module. ¡°Water damage?¡±
¡°Looks like it,¡± Roan said. ¡°Must¡¯ve taken a dip before someone pulled it out. Navigation module¡¯s fried, but we might be able to salvage the rest.¡±
They worked in companionable silence for a while, the rhythmic hum of their tools blending with the occasional murmur of passing speeders. The shop¡¯s first customer of the day arrived shortly after¡ªa portly Rodian with green, leathery skin and a raspy voice. He carried a cracked repulsorlift generator, its casing scarred from years of use.
¡°This is from my food cart,¡± the Rodian said, placing the generator on the counter. ¡°Keeps shorting out when I try to move between the market districts.¡±
Ferus nodded, taking the generator and examining its internals. ¡°Looks like the power couplings are corroded. We¡¯ll replace those and recalibrate the energy flow. Shouldn¡¯t take more than a couple of hours.¡±
The Rodian grunted his thanks and shuffled out, leaving a faint smell of spice in his wake. Next came an Ithorian couple, their dual mouths producing the deep, resonant tones of their species as they explained the issue with their malfunctioning vaporator.
¡°It keeps cycling too fast,¡± one of them said. ¡°We¡¯ve had to ration water for the past week.¡±
¡°We¡¯ll take care of it,¡± Roan assured them, his easygoing demeanor putting them at ease. ¡°Come back this afternoon, and it¡¯ll be good as new.¡±
The steady stream of customers continued throughout the morning. A young human woman arrived with a broken astromech head, her face flushed with embarrassment as she explained how it had fallen off her balcony. A Duros pilot stopped by with a cracked speeder bike chassis, muttering about an Imperial checkpoint damaging it during a search.
The door slammed open with a metallic clang, startling everyone in the shop. A wiry man with a scar running down his face stomped inside, carrying a small repulsorlift module. His eyes darted around the room, wild and unfocused.
¡°This thing¡¯s a piece of junk!¡± he snarled, slamming the module onto the counter. ¡°You fixed it last week, and now it¡¯s worse than before.¡±
Roan looked up from his workbench, unfazed. ¡°Let¡¯s take a look,¡± he said calmly, stepping toward the counter.
The man yanked the module back, his movements jerky. ¡°No! You¡¯re not touching it again. I want my credits back!¡±
Ferus set down his tools, his senses on high alert as he approached the scene. The other customers, sensing trouble, began to edge away, their expressions wary.
¡°Alright,¡± Roan said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. ¡°If you¡¯re not happy, we can discuss a refund, but¡ª¡±
¡°Talk?!¡± the man interrupted, his voice rising. ¡°I¡¯m done talking!¡±
To everyone¡¯s shock, he pulled a blaster from his belt, aiming it directly at Roan. Gasps echoed through the shop, and the tension became unbearable. Roan froze, his green eyes wide, but his voice remained steady.
¡°Hey,¡± Roan said carefully. ¡°There¡¯s no need for that. Let¡¯s keep things calm, alright?¡±
Ferus¡¯s mind raced. The man was unstable, his grip on the blaster unsteady. One wrong move could end in disaster.
¡°Lower the weapon,¡± Ferus said, stepping forward with deliberate calm. ¡°No one needs to get hurt.¡±
The man turned to him, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Stay back!¡±
¡°I¡¯m not moving,¡± Ferus said, holding up his hands. ¡°But think about this. If you pull that trigger, what happens next? You¡¯ll have to run. The authorities will find you. Is that the life you want?¡±
The man hesitated, his hand trembling. Ferus reached out with the Force, focusing his energy into his voice. He spoke again, layering his words with subtle influence. ¡°You don¡¯t want to do this. Lower the blaster. Turn yourself in. It¡¯s the right thing to do.¡±
The man¡¯s face twisted with confusion, his will battling against the suggestion. Then, slowly, his shoulders slumped. The blaster wavered before he set it down on the counter.
¡°You¡¯re right,¡± the man muttered. ¡°I don¡¯t want this.¡±
The other customers quickly ushered him out, murmuring about reporting the incident to the authorities. The tension in the room dissipated, but Ferus felt the weight of what had just happened settle heavily on his shoulders. He had made a mistake.
The shop was quiet as Ferus and Roan finished closing up for the night. The tools were neatly stored, the floors swept, and the shutters drawn over the windows. But the atmosphere between them was tense, an unspoken question hanging in the air.
Roan leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. ¡°Alright,¡± he said finally. ¡°What the hell was that?¡±
Ferus kept his focus on the tool cabinet, locking it with deliberate precision. ¡°What do you mean?¡±
¡°You know exactly what I mean,¡± Roan said, his voice sharp. ¡°That guy was ready to shoot me, and then you just¡ talked him down. It didn¡¯t feel normal, Ferus. It felt like you got inside his head.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Ferus turned, his expression carefully neutral. ¡°I just stayed calm. Said the right things.¡±
Roan shook his head. ¡°No. That wasn¡¯t natural. And it¡¯s not the first time. How about the one time with that speeder bike and Trever? Or the way you always seem to know when trouble¡¯s coming? You¡¯re hiding something.¡±
Before Ferus could respond, the distant hum of speeders grew louder. His instincts flared, and he moved to the window, peering through the gap in the shutters.
Stormtroopers. A dozen of them, their armor gleaming under the streetlights. And at their head, draped in crimson robes, was Acting Governor Malorum.
The doors burst open, and the stormtroopers filed in, blasters raised. Ferus and Roan froze as Malorum entered with deliberate steps, his heavy red robes swirling around him like liquid fire. His sharp eyes scanned the room, landing on Ferus.
¡°Ferus Olin,¡± Malorum said, his voice smooth and cold. ¡°You¡¯ve been quite difficult to find.¡±
Ferus¡¯s mind raced. He couldn¡¯t let Roan get dragged into this. ¡°You¡¯ve got the wrong guy,¡± he said evenly.
Malorum¡¯s lips curled into a faint smile. ¡°Do I? A man who stops speeders with a gesture? Who talks armed attackers into surrendering? You¡¯ve been careless, Olin.¡±
Roan turned to Ferus, his face pale with confusion. Ferus didn¡¯t break eye contact with Malorum. ¡°If you¡¯ve got proof, show it. Otherwise, I¡¯m just a mechanic.¡±
Malorum¡¯s smile faded. ¡°Proof is irrelevant. My word is law. And you, Jedi, are coming with me.¡±
The stormtroopers moved forward, but Ferus was already reaching for the hidden switch beneath the counter. A portion of the wall near them slid open with a hiss, and he shoved Roan toward it.
¡°Go!¡± Ferus shouted, pulling a scattergun from under the counter and blasting one of the troopers with it before rushing across those few meters to the hidden path.
Blaster fire erupted as they ran into the tunnels below. The air was cool and damp as they ran, the sound of boots echoing above. Reaching a junction, Ferus pulled out a detonator and set it against the wall.
¡°What are you doing?¡± Roan panted.
¡°Buying us time,¡± Ferus replied, activating the detonator.
The explosion rocked the tunnel, sealing the path behind them with a cascade of rushing water and debris. Ferus grabbed Roan¡¯s arm and kept running. They emerged near the edge of the sixth lake, the moonlight casting a silvery sheen on the water.
¡°What the hell is going on, Ferus?¡± Roan demanded, his voice shaking.
Ferus glanced back toward the city, knowing the Empire wouldn¡¯t stop until they found him. ¡°I¡¯ll explain later,¡± he said grimly. ¡°For now, we keep moving.¡±
¡°For now, we keep moving,¡± Ferus whispered to his companion. I could hear the exhaustion in his voice. They were below me, crawling through the mud and decay that reeked from the old waste tunnels. I stood above, on higher ground, following them without the need for sight.
I took in a deep breath, feeling the weight of the rotary saber in my hand. Its cold hilt was a reminder of my bloody purpose, but tonight it felt heavier¡ªalmost as though the weapon itself was reluctant. The world around me was an orchestra of nocturnal life. Reptiles croaked, bugs whined, and the air was dense with damp and the smell of earth. It made it difficult to concentrate, but I forced myself into focus.
Malorum had demanded my obedience, a leash I defiantly pulled against. He commanded me, threw me around like a servant. My lips curled at the thought of him. If circumstances were different, I¡¯d have gladly rid myself of that blight, dumped his body into one of these lakes and watched him sink. But I needed him, just for a little while longer.
The plan was simple. Malorum wanted Ferus to lead us to others, to expose any hidden networks, to draw out remnants of the old Jedi Order. I wanted Malorum dead, removed from the board entirely. I wanted to correct a mistake that should not be. So, I followed Ferus Olin, keeping an eye on him. I had my own plan now, even if this twisted timeline frightened me more than I cared to admit.
Ferus should have been gone, from this planet entirely by now. Malorum should have died on Naboo over a decade ago. And Roan? Roan should never have been here at all. This distorted, altered reality brought with it a great worry, a discomfort that ran deeper than my new training ever allowed me to feel. But there would be time to consider such things later¡ªnow, there was only the hunt.
They were getting away, thought not too far. What is distance compared to the ever present Force? I reached for the Force, extending my awareness toward Ferus¡¯ companion¡ªthe weak link. Roan. His presence flickered in the Force, a mere waning ember compared to the inferno of Ferus. It was easy. A wave of my hand, a quick pull, and Roan screamed, yanked up to where I stood. I ignited my saber, the crimson blade casting a pale, red glow over his terrified face.
¡°Good evening, Jedi,¡± I said, my voice cold but laced with polite amusement. ¡°As a businessman, I¡¯m sure you enjoy a good deal. And I have one you surely can¡¯t refuse.¡±
Ferus¡¯ head snapped up, his eyes locking onto me. His saber ignited with a blue flash, the hum filling the damp air between us. I could feel his anger rise, the struggle within him to control it. He took a cautious step forward, and his voice came out tight. ¡°You let him go, or you¡¯ll regret it.¡± Years of letting go of the Jedi Code does that to a Jedi I imagine, quick to impulses they denied.
The familiar sensation of danger prickled along my senses, the edge of his defiance like a sharp blade in the dark.
¡°Regret?¡± I chuckled, drawing the blade closer to Roan¡¯s throat. ¡°Jedi, you misunderstand. This is not a negotiation. Surrender, and I¡¯ll let him go. Continue to fight, and you¡¯ll only bring more suffering.¡±
He charged, his anger fueling him. His attack was swift, a downward strike aimed at my right shoulder. I could sense it in the Force before it even began. I sidestepped, throwing Roan to the side while deflecting the attack and pushing him back. I used the Force to mess with his perception¡ªpushing against his precognitive sense, altering what he expected to feel in the next moment. It was difficult to try on a well trained mind, even after not having practiced for years. The innate ferocity remained, so I just slithered in where I could.
To him, the ground shifted, the air thickened, his balance seemed wrong. His strikes were clumsy, ill-timed. Each move he made, I countered with ease, my saber spinning in tight arcs, the crimson glow leaving streaks in the night air.
¡°You¡¯re faltering, Olin,¡± I said, my voice a rasp as our sabers clashed, the Force between us crackling. ¡°Your connection to the Force is waning. Are you truly so weak?¡± I wanted him to fumble, I wanted him to doubt. It was always a surefire tactic.
His teeth were gritted in frustration, his moves becoming more desperate, more reckless. I kept pushing¡ªnot physically, but mentally. I reached into his mind, twisting his sense of what would happen next, sending false visions, tricking his instincts.
Roan¡¯s body stirred, and I felt his fear spike in the Force. He tried to scramble for a blaster at his belt, aiming it toward me, his aim shaky. I flicked my wrist and sent him crashing into a nearby tree, his body slumping against the trunk. He wasn¡¯t dead¡ªnot yet¡ªbut he would be soon enough.
The clearing was filled with the hiss and crackle of clashing sabers, the lake¡¯s calm surface reflecting the red and blue glow. Ferus attacked again, but his strikes were wild, lacking the calm focus of a true Jedi. I met each one, our blades locking and pushing against each other, the Force between us a living, pulsing entity.
I reached further into him, deep into his fear, his uncertainty. ¡°You¡¯ve already lost, Olin. Just surrender. You know you can¡¯t win.¡±
His eyes flashed with anger, his strikes becoming even more furious. He had power¡ªraw, untamed power¡ªbut it was his anger that would be his undoing. He stepped forward, pushing me back with a heavy slash. He was no longer just drawing on the light¡ªsomething darker was coming to the surface.
A chill ran down my spine as I felt it¡ªthe unmistakable presence of the dark side. He was tapping into it, his fear and anger feeding his strength. And that was when I realized my mistake.
The duel was interrupted by a commanding voice that boomed across the clearing. I had focused far too much on Ferus to feel the caped snake make his way to us.
¡°Enough!¡±
Malorum stepped into view, his presence radiating in the Force like a dark, oppressive cloud. He moved with deliberate confidence, his crimson robes flowing behind him. In his hand, he held something gruesome¡ªa severed head. Roan¡¯s head.
He tossed it to the ground, and it landed with a dull thud, rolling until it came to rest in the dirt. The air rippled with Ferus¡¯ anguish, his presence exploding with pain and rage.
Malorum smiled, his tone dripping with venom. ¡°Come with us, Ferus, or end up like¡ª¡±
The words never finished. Ferus lifted his hand, his face contorted in anger. A bolt of raw, dark energy surged from his fingertips¡ªblue lightning that cracked through the air, directed at both me and Malorum. The power of the attack was unlike anything I¡¯d felt from him before¡ªit was dark, full of rage, and it caught me off guard.
The lightning struck me, searing through my nerves, driving me to my knees. I raised my saber, angling the blade to catch the worst of it, the energy crackling against the crimson plasma. Malorum wasn¡¯t as lucky. The lightning hit him full on, and his screams filled the night. I could feel his pain, his agony as his body convulsed, his robes smoldering, the acrid scent of burnt flesh filling my senses.
Through the haze of pain, I acted. I reached for Malorum¡¯s lightsaber with the Force, ripping it from his belt and igniting it midair. The crimson blade sprang to life, and with a precise flick of my wrist, I angled it upward¡ªfifteen degrees¡ªand drove it through Malorum¡¯s body, from his hip to his shoulder.
His screams turned to a wet, choking gasp, his aura in the Force dimming rapidly. I pulled the blade free, catching it in my other hand.
The clearing fell into silence, the only sound the crackling of burnt fabric and the distant lapping of the lake against the shore. I stood there, breathing heavily, my senses still buzzing from the lightning. I had been electrocuted before, several times back when. But that was...worse, much much worse.
Ferus was staring at me, his chest heaving, his eyes wide with shock and anger and something else¡ªsomething like disbelief. I could feel his presence in the Force, a swirling storm of emotion. He was powerful, far more powerful than I had anticipated, and in that moment, I understood that I couldn¡¯t fight him. Not like this.
Slowly, deliberately, I deactivated both lightsabers. The red blades vanished with a snap-hiss, and I tossed the hilts away, letting them clatter to the ground.
¡°Now that we¡¯re alone,¡± I said, raising my hands in a gesture of surrender, ¡°we need to talk.¡±
Ferus¡¯ face twisted in fury, his eyes blazing with hatred. He lifted his hand, and I felt the dark energy gather around him, felt the Force begin to constrict around me. My feet left the ground as he lifted me, his voice a roar of anguish.
¡°TALK?!¡± he screamed, the Force breaking through my defenses, shattering my barrier like glass. The pressure on my chest was immense, the dark side coiling around me, squeezing the air from my lungs. ¡°Roan is dead and NOW YOU WANT TO TALK?!¡±
The world around me blurred, my focus slipping. He was strong¡ªtoo strong. His emotions were fueling his power, amplifying his strength in the Force. I could feel his pain, his rage, his loss¡ªit was all pouring into the dark side, feeding his attack.
My mind raced, searching for an answer, a way to get through to him. I couldn¡¯t fight back, not against this. Not now. His power was overwhelming, and I knew that if I didn¡¯t find a way to calm him, he would kill me.
¡°Ferus¡¡± I gasped, struggling against the pressure. ¡°You¡¯re stronger¡ than this.¡±
Come on, please work cheesy lines! I thought. I believed it though, a Jedi should be able to rise above their emotions. They should be.
He hesitated, just for a moment, his grip faltering. I could feel his turmoil, the conflict within him. He was teetering on the edge.
¡°Think of¡ what Roan would want,¡± I choked out, the words barely audible. ¡°This¡ this isn¡¯t the way.¡±
His grip loosened, the pressure on my chest easing. I fell to the ground, gasping for breath, my body aching from the strain. I looked up at him, seeing the confusion, the pain in his expression.
¡°We need to talk,¡± I said again, my voice steadier this time. ¡°We can''t help each other if we''re dead.¡±
He stood there, his chest still heaving, his eyes locked on mine. I could feel the struggle within him. I knew he would make the right choice.
Chapter 13: Fallen Ferus
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 13: Fallen Ferus
"The Dark Side is not a leap but a stumble¡ªa misstep in moments of fear that echoes through a lifetime."
Location: Ballassa- Ussa City Outskirts
Two cooling corpses lay nearby, wounds cauterized by lightsaber blades. My own weapon and that of Malorum were strewn somewhere on the grassy hillside. Twin moons hung overhead, and the city''s lights off in the distance allowed Ferus enough light to see me fully. Shaking hands were spread out, palms raised in an attempt to pacify his anger. I still wore the beggar''s attire, the cold air causing me to shiver lightly¡ªmaking me dearly wish for my temperature-controlled uniform.
I could feel the conflict within the former Jedi turned mechanic. Boiling rage threatened to break free and kill me without mercy, tempered by what remained in his heart of the strict Jedi Code, and the love he held for the man whose head lay at his feet.
¡°Let me help you. I can keep your friends safe. This wasn¡¯t supposed to happen, Ferus,¡± I calmly stated, letting my honesty pour into the words as I spoke. I didn¡¯t dare try to lace them with a Force-fueled influence. ¡°Malorum¡ he should have died on Naboo years ago.¡±
The words broke free from my mouth before I could think of the repercussions. Yet, the words when spoken echoed back to me, not reaching Ferus¡¯ ears as intelligible speech. Whispers of power, words of the ancient Sith. A language long dead, and one I only recalled from the few appearances in the music of the films or games. A pain bloomed in my head, as if in warning not to dare speak of such things again.
The Force, it seemed, does not take kindly to disrupting events in such a way, but it was odd. Killing Kota did not bring such a response. Perhaps it was due to the importance of a person in the grand scheme that it willed to play? Whatever the situational trigger was, I didn¡¯t have time to ponder.
Vrrrrmm
The sound of a saber activating and being thrown simultaneously reached my ears as my senses picked up on the small Force connection that Ferus made with his saber the second before he threw it.
I dove out of the way, ducking and dodging the saber throw, reaching out with the Force to pull both of the weapons back to me as I came out of the roll.
The saber circled back around far faster than I anticipated, and I heard Ferus¡¯ footfalls rushing across the tall grass. Both sabers landed in my hands, and I dropped into the grass as the blue blade sliced the edges of the grass and where my torso had been.
Ferus leapt into the air, the saber reaching him midway as I ignited the red blades to intercept his oncoming strike.
The clashing of sabers sent sparks flying into the night, the hum and crackle of our weapons filling the air. Ferus¡¯ face was twisted in rage, and I could feel the pulse of his anger surging through the Force. I shifted my stance, blocking his strikes and attempting to find an opening. He was relentless, his strikes coming faster and harder, and I knew I had to stay on the defensive.
Suddenly, Ferus pulled back, his hand crackling with energy. A bolt of Force Lightning arced toward me, and I crossed my sabers in front of me, absorbing the attack. The energy surged through the blades, humming with intensity as I held my ground, my muscles straining.
Ferus pressed the attack, swinging his saber while bolts of lightning shot from his fingertips between strikes. I twisted and parried, using my sabers to absorb the lightning and deflect his strikes. He was relentless, his attacks fueled by a desperation that gave him strength. I could feel his emotions¡ªanger, grief, pain¡ªall coalescing into a single purpose: to destroy me.
Ferus was proving to be a quick study. He adapted to my movements, anticipating my parries and adjusting his strikes. He was reading my techniques, learning my patterns, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to predict his next move. I had to stay a step ahead, but he was making that nearly impossible.
I spun away from a powerful strike, only to feel a sudden ripple in the Force. My eyes darted to the corpse of Roan, and I saw a blaster rifle levitating into the air. Ferus reached out with the Force, and the blaster fired. The bolt grazed my leg, searing pain shooting up my thigh as I stumbled back, barely managing to keep my balance.
The pain was a distraction, and Ferus seized the opportunity. He lunged forward, his saber crashing against mine with a force that nearly knocked me off my feet. I could feel the weight of his strikes, his determination to end this. He was not holding back, and I could sense that he was willing to do whatever it took to see me fall.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
Our sabers locked, and I pushed back with all my strength, breaking the lock and stepping away. But Ferus was already moving, his eyes filled with fury as he swung his saber once more. I brought up Malorum''s saber to block, but his strike was too strong. The blade shattered in my hand, the crystal within splintering as the saber was destroyed. I was left with only my own weapon, the red blade humming ominously in the dark.
Ferus pressed his advantage, driving me back step by step. I could feel my strength waning, my muscles aching from the relentless onslaught. He was pushing me to my limits, and I knew I couldn''t keep this up much longer. I had to find a way to turn the tide, but Ferus was giving me no room to breathe.
With a roar of anger, Ferus unleashed another wave of Force Lightning. I brought my saber up, the blade absorbing the energy, but the force of the attack drove me to my knees. The lightning crackled around me, the power of it almost overwhelming. My arms shook as I struggled to hold my saber steady, the energy coursing through the blade and threatening to break my defenses.
I had one chance. With a deep breath, I reached out with the Force, feeling the connection to my weapon. The hilt of my lightsaber split in two, detaching into separate blades. With a sudden burst of movement, I swung one of the sabers, cutting through the lightning and slicing toward Ferus. The blade found its mark, severing his hand at the wrist, and the lightning ceased immediately.
Ferus cried out in pain, stumbling back as his severed hand fell to the ground. I rose to my feet, both sabers ignited, one at his throat and the other at the back of his neck. He was breathing heavily, his eyes filled with pain and anger, but also a glimmer of fear.
¡°Yield,¡± I commanded, my voice steady despite the exhaustion I felt. ¡°This fight is over.¡±
Ferus glared at me, his chest heaving as he struggled to contain his rage. For a moment, I thought he might refuse, that he would rather die than submit. But slowly, the fight left his eyes, and he slumped to his knees, his head bowed in defeat.
I deactivated one of my sabers, the other still held ready in case he tried anything. ¡°It didn¡¯t have to be this way, Ferus,¡± I said quietly. ¡°But you gave me no choice.¡±
He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of hatred and sorrow. ¡°You took everything from me,¡± he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. ¡°I will never forgive you.¡±
I nodded, the weight of his words heavy in the cold night air. ¡°As I told Kota,¡± I replied, ¡°I don¡¯t care. But you, Ferus Olin, are now a servant of the Empire.¡±
A blaster shot rang into the air, a stun blast hitting Ferus in the chest. I tossed Roan¡¯s blaster away and pulled the commlink from the one pouch on my belt.
¡°Captain, get a read on my location. Bring a med team and a body disposal bag. I have a dead civilian and Malorum¡¯s body to be disposed of.¡±
A moment passed. Whether due to his hesitation to reply over the shock, or to process what was spoken, his reply was simply, ¡°Yes, sir.¡±
I steadied myself as I focused on getting the commlink to punch in another set of digits. A cold chill ran through my body as the device beeped, and I spoke again to someone on the other side.
¡°Lord Vader, the target has been captured as per your orders. Malorum died in the course of our attempt.¡±
The respirator echoed as the Dark Lord¡¯s voice boomed into the still night air. ¡°Very good, Inquisitor. Bring him to Mustafar. I will deal with him personally.¡±
The call ended, and I let out the breath I had been holding. I always hated making phone calls to my bosses in my old life¡ªthis was just a more dangerous form, since at least they couldn''t kill you from light-years away.
The Force extended out from where I stood, granting me the location of where Ferus¡¯ saber had fallen, and with a small smile of satisfaction, I brought it to my hand. It was warm, slightly moist from the sweat, and a small dual ring of leather near the middle of the hilt and at the bottom. It was nice, simple and easy to hold. Good for dueling but nothing fancy from what I could feel. It reminded me of Qui-Gon Jinn¡¯s hilt if anything in terms of ergonomic design, without the deep grooves and single red button. The switch was small, no box or unnecessary nobs.
Another lightsaber for my collection. I thought, allowing my body and mind to calm down as I listened to the nighttime symphony that always played in the outdoors and along lakeside shores. I wished I could see like I used to, without relying on the Force and guesswork. It was these quiet moments that made me question everything I had done so far¡ªevery choice, every moment where I could have taken a different path. I could run. I could try to leave the Inquisitorius, the Empire, and flee into the Unknown Regions.
The worst part was that I wanted to stay. The order, the missions, the training¡ªit all gave me purpose. It gave me a life I couldn¡¯t have had anywhere else. It allowed me to feel free, even while being in a cage. I knew what I had done, and I knew it went against my better judgment. The truth was that I was afraid¡ªafraid of the uncertainty that came with running away, afraid of losing this second chance at life. Selfishly clinging to what sense of purpose I had, I sacrificed others'' freedoms for my own. A struggle of morality that I rationalized away as being part of a different world with different rules. I was stuck dealing with my own demons, and devils and here I was delivering an innocent man to one more vile than I.
Ferus¡¯ breathing had calmed, still being knocked cold. Pity was there, sorrow for his friend being murdered. Yet I still stood, waiting for the ship to arrive. I heard the engines as they flew to where I was, the tell tale sound of an LAAT/le patrol ship thundering over the noisy wildlife,
With a weary sigh, I clipped the saber to my belt and ignited the rotary lightsaber I had, to let them see me better in the dark. Just another day in paradoxical paradise.
Story Progress Update
Story Update
Due to it being the holiday time, and both of my jobs requiring more of my time I have decided to put the story on hiatus till January.
I know I should have probably posted something like this sooner, but things have been crazy both personally and with my places of employment.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
However, that doesn''t mean I will not writing at all. Taking a short break will allow me to better flesh out the path ahead and where I want to ultimately take the story, and whether or not to keep the current formulaic chapters in fear of it becoming stale without proper difference in structure. Any who, I should go.
See you in 2025!
Chapter 14: Group Projects
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 14: Group Projects
"Take the greatest Jedi Knight, strip away the Force, and what remains? They rely on it, depend on it, more than they know. Watch as one tries to hold a blaster, as they try to hold a lightsaber, and you will see nothing more than a woman ¨C or a man. A child."
7 BBY
Location: Fortress Inquisitorious - Training Hall 5
Enemies surrounded me on all sides. One behind, two to my flank, and the fourth ahead of me had just lost its head. Sparks flew as the droid''s head hit the floor with a heavy thud, its body collapsing right after. The remaining droids rushed at me¡ªa stab aimed for my back, while two vibroblades targeted my right leg and the left side of my neck.
I stepped back, moving my leg out of the way and simultaneously avoiding the blade aimed at my head with a slight duck. The droid behind me stopped, frozen in place mid-stab. The Force enveloped it, halting its movement entirely.
With another quick swipe of my lightsaber, I brought one droid down at the knees, keeping my momentum as I swung the blade to block the strike from the droid on my right. Deciding against a quick finish with a deflection into a decisive strike, I instead moved aside with a burst of speed and released the droid I had held with the Force. Its stab, originally intended for me, now drove through its ally, impaling it from shoulder to shoulder.
Why do all the work myself when I can manipulate my enemies into doing my job for me?
With only one droid remaining, I pulled back, switching off the saber and seeking clarity through the Force. The sparks of energy flowing in their circuits allowed me to sense their movements with some difficulty, but it was that very energy I wanted to study, to understand, and make my own. For weeks I had been confined to the Fortress, training and doing what I could with my limited access to the Archive records. Reading about Force techniques and applying them in practice were two very different things. Especially when it came to Force Lightning.
The short battle with Ferus Olin had shaken me¡ªmade me angry, envious. A failed Jedi who left before the Order collapsed, who hadn¡¯t delved into the Force for years, just so happens to display the most powerful ability the dark side can manifest? I knew he was talented, rivaling even Anakin when they were Padawans, but witnessing it firsthand was an eye-opener. I should have been more cautious when I received the mission to assist Malorum. Truth be told, it was a miracle I didn¡¯t lose a limb or worse back then. We lost a foolish man and gained a powerful agent¡ªone I desperately wanted to contact and ask some pointed questions.
Ferus'' position in the Empire, or even his current status, was unknown once he fell into Darth Vader¡¯s hands. I wagered he would be planted as a double agent or something similar to what he once was in the old days, but that didn¡¯t concern me. I told myself I didn¡¯t care. His life was none of my concern.
¡°You took everything from me.¡± His last malicious words to me echoed in my mind. Idiot. Misplaced anger directed at me for simply doing my job. It made me angry in turn. He should have known what fate awaited him. He should have realized where the path he chose would eventually lead. Regardless of caution or planning, the Force has a way of bringing about the destiny it desires. If that leaves you broken, hateful, and enslaved¡ªso be it. There are worse fates Ferus could have faced, and I showed him mercy.
I clenched my teeth, letting my frustrations grow, letting my hatred fuel me. A whirling vortex of dark energy built within me. I was a hypocrite, contradictory. I was angry at myself. Justifications only go so far, and the vortex within finally broke through.
The Force manifested out from my hands¡ªa wave of raw, physical energy that blasted the droid apart as if it had been hit by a podracer at full speed.
Fuck. No lightning. Just a nicely powered push.
I let out a snarl, igniting my lightsaber and instinctively lashing out at the life form who had conveniently entered the room right after the destruction of the last training droid. I already sensed his intentions, having finally recovered from his wounds during our last outing. The Fifth Brother brought his blade up to block the spinning lightsaber aimed at him, deflecting it easily.
"Such rage! Surely these droids did not give you any trouble Fourteen?", he mocked, his own anger bubbling beneath his calm tones.
The spinning saber returned to my hand. "Kriff off." I spat out, turning the weapon off and started making my way to one of the other exits. I was hungry. I was done and wanted to head to the mess hall. My footfalls the only sound aside from the still ignited blade of the other Inquisitor. I passed by more destroyed droids that littered the training hall, blasters and vibroblades sitting discarded amongst sparking circuitry.
"Halt your steps. I have not come here for nothing." called out the grey skinned alien. I sensed a flicker in the Force and felt one of the discarded weapons push against my throat. "We have orders."
"We?" I asked, reaching up to the floating blade and pushing it down with my hand. "I didn''t think we''d be on another mission so soon."
A deep laugh rung out. "Eighth Brother will be there, to supervise you."
"And to make sure you don''t kill me." I added. The smell and screams of Fifth Brother cursing me as he burned alive was another memory I would rather not repeat. A short mission that should have been routine had spiraled into chaos, all thanks to the remnants of Kota¡¯s militia.
The so-called ¡°Kota¡¯s Kutters¡± were a ragtag group of idealists, clinging to the hope that their leader was still alive. They had taken over an asteroid mining facility, threatening to blow it sky-high unless the Empire released their imprisoned comrades.
Negotiation was pointless¡ªidealists rarely listened to reason. But we had been sent anyway, tasked with resolving the situation as quickly and cleanly as possible. Too dangerous for senators and yet important enough to send us it seemed.
Things fell apart almost immediately. The Kutters opened fire the moment we set foot in the facility, their desperation fueling their recklessness. The firefight was chaotic, a blur of blaster bolts and shouted orders.
I remembered the explosion vividly. A stray deflection from my own blade had struck a barrel of fuel, setting off a chain reaction that ripped through the facility. The Fifth Brother had been caught in the blast, his armor scorched and his face scarred.
We eliminated the Kutters, of course. But at a cost. Half the facility was destroyed, and the Fifth Brother¡¯s injuries had left him seething with resentment while floating in the bacta tanks.
"That too, though I suppose..." he trailed off, walking forwards with dangerous intent. The Dark Side gathered around him, fueling his speed.
"Why wait?" I desperately wanted to roll my eyes at him, but he wouldn''t be able to see it through the helmet I wore. Always predictable, these Inquisitors. I floated a few pieces of broken droids up from the ground. At least I get to test his strength.
Location: Malastare Airspace
The shuttle trembled as it cut through the dense atmosphere of Malastare, leaving a faint vibration beneath my boots. The air inside was stifling, and the tension felt even heavier. Somewhere beyond the metal hull, I caught the faint roar of podracing engines in the distance. The sound tugged at something deep inside me¡ªa memory buried under layers of who I had become.
I shifted in my seat, trying to focus. Nostalgia was a distraction I couldn¡¯t afford. Not here.
Fifth Brother unbuckled his harness with a grunt, the metallic clink echoing through the cramped cabin. He stood, towering over both of us. Even without seeing his face, I could feel his perpetual irritation radiating through the Force.
¡°Another miserable rock,¡± he muttered. ¡°Let¡¯s hope this one doesn¡¯t waste our time.¡±
I adjusted my gauntlet, my fingers flexing as the leather creaked. ¡°It won¡¯t. We¡¯ll handle it quickly.¡±
Eighth Brother remained leaning against the bulkhead, arms crossed, helmet tilted slightly as if he were examining me through the visor. He was always unnervingly still when we traveled¡ªa predator waiting for the right moment to strike. His voice finally crackled through the comms in his helmet.
¡°Quick? I doubt it.¡± His tone was dry. ¡°Word is the kid¡¯s slippery. Force-sensitive and reckless. Sounds like fun.¡±
I shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the Force-sensitive thief. The boy reminded me too much of stories I¡¯d heard back in the days of the Republic. Too much of someone else entirely.
¡°Sounds like an Ezra wannabe,¡± I mumbled under my breath, barely loud enough to register.
The reaction was immediate. Eighth Brother tilted his head sharply, his helmet locking on me. ¡°What was that?¡±
I waved it off. ¡°Nothing. Just thinking out loud.¡±
The cabin filled with silence again, broken only by the hum of the shuttle¡¯s engines. Fifth Brother adjusted his belt, casting a sidelong glance at both of us. His deep voice rumbled with amusement.
¡°The report said the kid¡¯s been causing problems. More trouble than he¡¯s worth.¡± He stepped toward the ramp, preparing for landing. ¡°Let¡¯s not drag this out.¡±
Eighth Brother¡¯s voice crackled again. ¡°Podracing qualifiers are today. We could wrap up the job fast, catch a race or two.¡±
I hesitated. The thought stirred something inside me, even though I knew better. I could still feel the echoes of those arcade games¡ªthe laughter, the joy of losing myself in something that felt real. I shook my head, trying to bury it.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
Fifth Brother snorted as the shuttle¡¯s ramp hissed open, releasing a blast of hot, acrid air. ¡°We could go catch a race after the mission. Assuming this job doesn¡¯t drag out.¡±
"You''re just parroting each other now. Come on, we can''t do that." I chastised, irritation building.
Eighth Brother turned his helmeted gaze back to me. I could feel his amusement without seeing his face.
¡°We could get you in a pod, Fourteen. Now that would be a sight.¡±
I almost laughed. Almost. I don''t like it when people push the same ideas again and again. I just wanted the job to be done and over with.
Instead, I settled for a wry smile that no one could see behind my own helmet. ¡°I¡¯d¡ well, I wouldn¡¯t mind trying.¡±
Eighth Brother tilted his head, intrigued. ¡°Really? Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d go for it.¡±
I shrugged, keeping my tone casual. ¡°I had friends who raced. Wouldn¡¯t be the first time behind a pod.¡±
It was a half-truth. An arcade machine wasn¡¯t the same as the real deal, but they didn¡¯t need to know that.
Eighth Brother chuckled, a low, distorted sound through his comms. ¡°Friends, huh? Funny, I don¡¯t picture you with friends.¡±
I ignored the jab, stepping off the ramp and onto the landing pad. The smells of Malastare hit me all at once¡ªburnt fuel, scorched metal, the tang of dust and oil hanging in the air. But beneath it all, I could still hear the distant roar of engines, pulling at that old ache.
Fifth Brother¡¯s heavy boots thudded on the permacrete as he joined me. He glanced around the bustling spaceport, his hand resting on the hilt of his lightsaber.
¡°Enough chatter. We have a target.¡±
Eighth Brother followed, his presence looming behind me like a shadow. His tone was still laced with amusement. ¡°Still, it would be something to see you behind a podracer, Fourteen. Maybe you¡¯d win us some extra credits.¡±
¡°I¡¯m not here to race,¡± I replied, shaking off the lingering memory. ¡°Let¡¯s focus.¡±
We crossed the landing pad and made our way toward the city gates, where a small detachment of local security waited for us. Their captain, a middle-aged human with a weathered face and tired eyes, stepped forward to greet us. His uniform was spotless, but his posture betrayed the nervous energy beneath his stoic expression.
¡°Inquisitors,¡± he began with a formal bow. ¡°Captain Loraas of Hindrazo Security.¡±
Fifth Brother loomed over the man, his presence alone enough to make the captain visibly uneasy. ¡°You have a problem. We¡¯re here to fix it. Brief us.¡±
¡°Yes, sir.¡± Loraas cleared his throat. ¡°There have been several incidents over the past few weeks. A young boy, Force-sensitive, has been stealing from vendors and supply depots across the city. He¡¯s quick, clever, and¡ elusive.¡±
¡°How elusive?¡± Eighth Brother asked, tilting his helmeted head. ¡°We¡¯re not chasing ghosts here.¡±
Loraas gestured toward a nearby speeder. ¡°I¡¯ve mapped out the crime scenes. If you¡¯ll follow me, I can take you to the most recent one.¡±
We piled into the speeder, with Loraas at the controls. The vehicle hummed to life, gliding through the bustling streets of Hindrazo. I leaned back, letting my senses extend outward. The city was a chaotic mess of life and movement, but beneath the noise, I could feel the faint echo of something familiar¡ªfear and excitement, mixed together like paint on a canvas.
The first stop was an electronics shop near the market district. Its front window was shattered, and shelves had been overturned, their contents scattered across the floor.
¡°This is where he hit last night,¡± Loraas explained, stepping out of the speeder. ¡°He took credits and equipment. Left no trace.¡±
I knelt by the broken glass, running my fingers over the shards. The Force whispered to me, fragments of the past lingering in the air like echoes. Shapes and flickers of light began to form in my mind¡ªa boy, small and nervous, darting between the shelves. His hands trembled as he grabbed whatever he could, but with each theft, his fear faded, replaced by a growing sense of confidence.
¡°He was afraid at first,¡± I murmured, rising to my feet. ¡°He was trembling. Then he got confident, and hopefully he''ll get cocky and slip up.¡±
¡°Idiots like him always do,¡± Fifth Brother muttered.
Eighth Brother crouched beside me, watching intently. ¡°What else do you see?¡±
I pressed my senses to the overturned shelves and scattered equipment. Something didn¡¯t sit right with me. I stepped toward one of the shattered display cases, picking up a broken datapad. "What kind of electronics does this shop sell?"
Loraas, standing a few paces behind, cleared his throat. "Mostly low-end comms and datapads, sir. Things that local vendors and mechanics would use."
"And what was stolen?" I pressed, my voice measured.
The captain shifted uncomfortably. "Credits, mostly. A few high-quality comm units. The thief seems to know what¡¯s valuable."
I turned the datapad over in my hands, running my thumb along the cracked screen. The Force buzzed faintly through it¡ªa lingering trace of the boy¡¯s frantic energy. "High-end comm units, you said. He¡¯s not just grabbing at random. He¡¯s picking items with purpose."
Eighth Brother straightened. "Maybe he¡¯s working for someone. A black market dealer, perhaps."
I shook my head. "No, this is personal. He¡¯s choosing things that keep him mobile. Portable tech, comms, credits. He¡¯s on the move, staying ahead of us."
Fifth Brother grunted, clearly growing impatient. "Enough guessing. The trail¡¯s still fresh. Let¡¯s follow it before it goes cold."
I closed my eyes, letting the Force guide me further. The boy¡¯s presence lingered like a trail of ink, leading from the shattered window down the street.
I pointed down the street. "He went this way."
Captain Loraas frowned, glancing between me and the direction I indicated. "How do you know?"
I turned to face him, tilting my head slightly. "I can feel it. The Force leaves impressions¡ªechoes of what¡¯s happened. The boy¡¯s presence lingers, like a rank stench floating around." I let my words hang in the air for a moment, watching his unease grow before adding, "We should check the other spots he hit first. I want a better idea of what he¡¯s trying to do."
Loraas nodded hesitantly, gesturing toward the speeder. "Very well, Inquisitor. We¡¯ll follow your lead."
We followed the trail through Hindrazo, visiting several more crime scenes along the way. The boy¡¯s movements were erratic at first, leading us to an odd assortment of shops: a bakery, an electronics store, a toy vendor, and even a small food stall on the corner of a bustling street. As we pieced together the timeline, a clearer picture began to emerge¡ªthis wasn''t the work of a hardened criminal, but something more chaotic, almost playful.
At the electronics store, security footage showed the boy slipping inside unnoticed before the break-in alarm was triggered. He moved quickly through the aisles, grabbing comm units and datapads before making his escape. But at the toy vendor, the theft had a strange twist. The shopkeeper showed us a hologram of the boy holding a small, brightly colored droid.
¡°He just took it,¡± the Rodian vendor muttered. ¡°Didn¡¯t even break anything. Used some trick to make me hand it over willingly. I barely even remember it.¡±
I frowned. ¡°A mind trick?¡±
The vendor nodded slowly. ¡°It must have been. All I remember is him saying, ¡®You don¡¯t need this sale.¡¯ And I agreed.¡±
Eighth Brother chuckled. ¡°A Force-sensitive kid using mind tricks to steal toys. That¡¯s a first.¡±
¡°It¡¯s reckless,¡± I said quietly, focusing on the hologram. The boy¡¯s face was partially obscured, but his expression was one of fascination as he examined the droid in his hands. There was no malice, just a child¡¯s curiosity.
The bakery was next. By the time we reached it, the trail was practically glowing in my mind. The elderly Twi¡¯lek shopkeeper wrung her hands nervously as she recounted the robbery.
¡°He¡ he came out of nowhere,¡± she stammered. ¡°I was closing up, and suddenly he was there. He grabbed the credits and some bread and vanished before I could even react.¡±
I placed a hand on the counter, feeling the vibrations of the past. The boy¡¯s fear was gone, replaced by a thrill of power, but there was also something else¡ªhunger. Desperation.
¡°He¡¯s not just taking valuables,¡± I murmured. ¡°He¡¯s taking what he needs to survive. Food. Toys. Comms to stay mobile.¡±
Fifth Brother straightened, his hand resting on his hip. ¡°Then let¡¯s end this.¡±
Location: Malastare - Jodis District
The trail led us to a run-down apartment complex near the spaceport. The building loomed over the street, its exterior worn and covered in grime, with rust streaking down the walls like scars. The faint scent of burning oil mixed with the distant hum of starship engines, creating an oppressive atmosphere. I could feel the boy¡¯s presence inside¡ªa nervous, jittery energy radiating from one of the upper floors. The place was old, decayed, and the peeling paint on the walls made it clear that no one here cared to keep up appearances.
¡°Fifth Brother, take the front entrance,¡± I ordered. ¡°Eighth Brother, with me. We¡¯ll go in from the side.¡±
Fifth Brother grunted in acknowledgment, stomping his way to the main door with a lumbering, deliberate gait. His hostility wasn¡¯t new¡ªhe never missed an opportunity to assert dominance. I could feel his irritation simmering in the Force, aimed squarely at me. The way he carried himself, the way he lingered on his threats, it was always the same message: you don¡¯t belong here.
Eighth Brother and I made our way around the back, scaling the rusted fence with ease. Security cameras dotted the perimeter, their lenses cracked or coated in grime. Not that it mattered. We didn¡¯t care if we were seen. Our affiliation with the Empire granted us immunity from such concerns. The weak didn¡¯t question the strong.
The complex¡¯s central pathway was eerily quiet. Overgrown grass pushed through the cracks in the permacrete, swaying gently in the breeze. The air was thick with dust and the faint scent of mildew, clinging to the walls like a stubborn stain. A flickering light overhead cast dim shadows, making the building feel even more abandoned than it already was.
I pushed my senses to their limit, feeling every pulse of life, every whisper of movement. The world became a canvas of light and shadow, shapes forming from the Force¡¯s touch. The boy¡¯s footsteps were like ink spots on the canvas, leading us upward.
¡°When we get to the target, no killing or maiming, got it?¡± I glanced at Eighth Brother, who rolled his eyes beneath his helmet.
¡°That just ruins the fun.¡±
His hostility was more subtle than Fifth Brother¡¯s, but it was there. Always there. I ignored him, focusing on the task at hand. As we reached the third floor, a noise behind me made me pause.
Fifth Brother had followed us after all, his heavy footsteps echoing in the stairwell. He loomed at the edge of my vision, his hand resting on his lightsaber hilt.
¡°You weren¡¯t supposed to follow,¡± I said flatly.
¡°I don¡¯t take orders from you.¡±
Eighth Brother stepped between us, his tone sharp. ¡°Enough. Fifth, you take the front. Now.¡±
Fifth Brother scowled but didn¡¯t argue. With a sneer, he turned and stomped back down the stairs. His presence lingered in the Force, like a storm cloud waiting to break.
¡°Let¡¯s get this done,¡± Eighth Brother muttered.
We approached Building N681. I removed my helmet and passed it to Eighth Brother. The cool air brushed against my skin, a stark contrast to the heated tension between us. Best to approach the boy civilly, without the mechanical modulation distorting my voice.
I gently tapped on the apartment door. Inside, I felt the boy freeze, his fear spiking like a lightning bolt through the Force. He wasn¡¯t expecting visitors. His emotions were erratic¡ªfear, anger, and defiance all swirling together.
Without warning, blaster bolts tore through the door, the first shot grazing my arm. I ducked, the rest of the shots narrowly missing my head. The Force warned me just in time, my reflexes saving me from a fatal hit.
¡°Blast it!¡± Eighth Brother growled, igniting his saber. The crimson glow illuminated the hallway, casting long, twisted shadows.
I reached out with the Force, blasting the door off its hinges. The boy inside scrambled backward, his blaster shaking in his hands. His wide eyes darted between us, his grip tightening in desperation.
He fired at the window, shattering the glass before leaping through.
¡°Idiot,¡± I muttered, extending my hand. The boy froze midair, suspended by the Force. He twisted and writhed, firing wild shots at us as he dangled above the alleyway.
¡°Let me go!¡± he screamed, panic rising in his voice.
The blaster fire was frantic and wild, but one shot skimmed Eighth Brother¡¯s shoulder, sending a shower of sparks flying.
Eighth Brother snarled. ¡°Enough of this!¡± He raised his lightsaber, ready to finish the boy.
¡°No.¡± I dropped to the ground below, slowing my descent with a controlled burst of the Force. Landing smoothly, I stepped toward the boy. His blaster fell from his grasp, clattering to the ground.
I yanked the weapon into my hand with the Force and switched it to stun. One precise shot, and the boy crumpled to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.
Eighth Brother joined me a moment later, rubbing his shoulder where the shot had hit.
¡°You always make things so dramatic,¡± he said, his tone laced with irritation.
I ignored him, kneeling beside the unconscious boy. ¡°Tell the big guy we¡¯ve got a new recruit. Vader will be pleased.¡±
Chapter 15: Short Negotiations
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 15: Short Negotiations
"How does one find peace when walking among the broken, burning bodies? Can you stifle the emotions when the air chokes children to death? How long will you allow the Council to keep you ignorant of the truth?"
Location: Bar Naval ¨C Junvar Spire
For thousands of years, the Galactic Republic stood tall, resolute against galactic chaos. An alliance of systems meant to better the whole galaxy and its suffering citizens, it weathered war, famine, and unforeseen disasters. A beacon of life, and of living. Or so it was said within the halls of the Senate on Coruscant. Little did those who walked those halls know that the Republic¡¯s foundation was slowly crumbling. Their freedoms and rights were being systematically stripped away by an infection at the core. Now, the Republic was something else entirely¡ªan Empire that ruled through brute force and coercion rather than cooperation and negotiation. In just over a decade since its formation, the Empire¡¯s ruthless tactics had become all too familiar to the Bar Naval Planetary Council. There was no line the Empire would not cross, especially when they decided a line no longer existed.
Norwa Opi, a member of that very council, believed this was the reality behind their latest ¡°visit.¡± Darkness had descended upon the planet when the Empire¡¯s new envoy arrived. Norwa and his colleagues¡ªsix of them in total¡ªwere awaiting the representative in a private hangar set aside for such official landings. All wore their ceremonial garb of high-collared black robes hemmed with gold. Short-notice visits were rare; they usually had days to prepare for Moff Granzek or whoever might come in his stead. That they had only hours to gather tonight was highly unusual. The group exchanged nervous whispers, but Norwa kept silent, mindful of the Empire¡¯s watchful eyes and ears.
¡°This is highly irregular!¡± bemoaned Gelden Moz, an aging human who should have retired a decade ago but whose experience was deemed indispensable. ¡°We¡¯ve kept within Granzek¡¯s demands.¡±
¡°If they ask for another two percent of our profits¡ª¡± began Jippa, a scientist with a brilliant mind but a shrill, impatient voice.
She was abruptly interrupted by a deeper rumble:
¡°¡ªthen they get it. And I can go back to sleep,¡± growled Drax Corgal, Head of Industries. He looked especially uncomfortable in his ceremonial robes, his broad shoulders straining against the fabric. The man was built from years of hard labor in the mines deep below the spire¡¯s surface. He had only just finished his forty-eight-cycle annual inspection shift.
Jippa glared at him but did not argue. She had learned her lesson the last time she¡¯d crossed him, losing precious funding for her medical research. Folding her arms, she simply settled for pouting in frustration.
Norwa let out a quiet sigh. Gelden was right¡ªthis was irregular. They had met all quotas, paid every extra fee demanded by the Empire, and yet this summons had come in the dead of night. Something was off. The shuttle descending from the cloudy atmosphere only deepened his unease.
An unfamiliar craft emerged from the gloom: a sleek, menacing vessel shaped like a two pronged fork, its black hull reflecting the harsh floodlights of the hangar. It set down with a heavy hiss of pressurized air. Norwa glanced around at the other council members; they all looked equally unnerved. This was not the standard Imperial shuttle they were used to seeing.
When the ramp lowered, two figures stepped out. The first was clad in the polished white armor of a stormtrooper, though with an officer¡¯s pauldron marking his rank. The trooper surveyed the hangar before stepping aside to let a slightly taller, far more intimidating presence descend.
This second figure was garbed in glossy black armor with a dark grey under-robe. The helmet, featureless except for a single glowing red visor-like line, emitted a faint, eerie hum. Norwa¡¯s heart hammered in his chest, and he saw similar dread mirrored in the eyes of his council peers. He had heard rumors of these agents¡ªImperial Inquisitors¡ªthough never had he imagined facing one in person.
The Inquisitor stopped at the base of the ramp, the red visor sweeping slowly across the six individuals.
¡°TK-421,¡± he said, his voice distorted by a vocoder. ¡°Confirm their species.¡±
TK-421 made a swift scan with a handheld device. ¡°All human, sir.¡±
The Inquisitor gave the barest incline of his helmet, then advanced. Without warning, a sickening wave of dread rippled through Norwa¡¯s mind. A sudden, suffocating pressure stole the air from Norwa¡¯s lungs, and before he realized it, his surroundings wavered, almost imperceptibly, as if time had skipped a beat. Then¡ªcrimson light, blood, and screams.
Gelden Moz reeled back, eyes bulging. Jippa shrieked and tore a tiny holdout blaster from her sleeve, firing wildly at a looming figure with a red blade. Drax let out a furious roar, hauling out his own hidden weapon as if his life depended on it. The rest of the council scrambled in terror, trying desperately to fight back against the unstoppable assailant who cut them down, one by one, in flashes of molten red light.
Norwa found himself screaming, but the sound was swallowed by the chaos. Each strike felt brutally final, leaving a council member in a broken heap, blood pooling around them. Every shot fired at the black-armored figure went wide or was effortlessly deflected. They had no chance.
And then, as quickly as the massacre began, it ended.
Norwa¡¯s voice died in his throat¡ªonly to be replaced by real screams echoing around him. At first, he thought they were his own, but his lungs were empty. He was no longer screaming; the ones shrieking in horror were his colleagues, for they, too, had lived the same vision.
They were all still physically standing in the hangar¡ªno bodies lay dead, no real blood had been spilled. Yet the traumatic echo of that shared vision had shaken them all to the core. Gelden Moz crouched on the floor, rocking back and forth, hands clamped over his ears.Jippa was scratching at her arms, as if trying to claw the sight of death from her mind. Another council member mumbled gibberish, eyes darting from corner to corner, as though the phantom attacker were still lurking.Drax tried to steady himself, patting at his sleeve where his blaster had been. Finding nothing, he let out a shaky half-growl, half-sob.
Norwa stood trembling, a ringing in his ears. His own breath rasped painfully. The Inquisitor stepped forward, the menacing red line of his visor leveled at Norwa with predatory calm.
¡°Stay with me, Mr. Opi,¡± the Inquisitor said, unmoved by the anguish around him. ¡°I have not come for them¡yet.¡±
Norwa swallowed, his throat so tight it felt like he might choke. The mad chorus of his colleagues¡¯ screams made his insides twist with dread. ¡°What¡what did you do to us?¡± he managed, voice shaking. ¡°What did you do to them?¡±
¡°I showed them what could happen,¡± the Inquisitor replied flatly, as though he were discussing the weather. ¡°And what will happen if you do not cooperate.¡±
He gestured toward the writhing councilors. ¡°I will kill them¡ªall of them¡ªif you do not take me to your son.¡±
Norwa¡¯s mind spun. The entire operation here would collapse, the Empire¡¯s stake in it would have been for nothing. Throwing it all away, for his son? But despite his own terror, he sensed something deeper in the Inquisitor¡¯s unwavering stance¡ªa certainty that no plea, no negotiation, could change his course.
¡°W-what are you?¡± he whispered, barely able to voice the question.
¡°I am what the Jedi fear,¡± the Inquisitor answered. ¡°Now take me to him.¡±
Location: Bar Naval ¨C Junvar Spire - Residential Module 55
Within the hour, Norwa found himself leading the Inquisitor and TK-421 through the upper levels of Junvar Spire. They passed manicured walkways of exotic flora¡ªsmall parks maintained to remind the populace of life beyond endless mining operations. The city¡¯s brilliant overhead lights glowed in the artificial night, illuminating their path.
Though terrified, Norwa tried to maintain some semblance of diplomacy. ¡°As you can see,¡± he said, gesturing to the greenery, ¡°the council invests in agricultural research to ensure ecological balance¡ª¡±
¡°A nice distraction from the mines,¡± the Inquisitor interrupted. He paused by a tall, purple-leafed plant. His black-gloved hand brushed lightly against one of its curling leaves, as though trying to discern its texture. ¡°Captain, what color is this?¡±
¡°Purple, sir,¡± TK-421 answered promptly.
Norwa couldn¡¯t hide his surprise. ¡°You¡ªyou can¡¯t see it yourself?¡±
¡°Not in the way you do,¡± the Inquisitor replied. If anything, his voice sounded almost¡detached. ¡°I am Miralukan. We see through the Force, not the visible spectrum.¡±
He lingered a moment longer, as if absorbing the plant¡¯s presence through some unseen sense. Then he straightened, his gaze¡ªor what passed for it¡ªlanding on Norwa.
¡°Do you enjoy your work, Norwa Opi?¡±
The question caught Norwa off-guard. ¡°I¡ªI serve the council and the people of Bar Naval. It is my duty.¡±
A soft scoff escaped through the vocoder. ¡°Duty. A word that often disguises reluctance.¡± He tilted his helmeted head, and Norwa felt as if all his carefully constructed composure had been stripped away. ¡°I am not fond of my own duties, either. Inquisitor¡executioner¡enforcer¡these titles do little to inspire joy. But we do what we must to survive such times.¡±
He let the thought hang, then turned back to Norwa. ¡°If possible, I¡¯d like to secure your offspring without violence. If you cooperate, I won¡¯t have to honor my promise to kill anyone tonight.¡±
The silence settled in as the Inquisitor walked along the path.
Eventually, they arrived at a small, unassuming housing unit built into the spire¡¯s mid-tier level. Despite its modest size, there were touches of comfort: warm lighting, polished metal trim, and a neat row of potted flora similar to those in the public garden. The door slid open at Norwa¡¯s keycode, revealing a living area where his wife waited, dressed in a simple but elegant gown that flattered her lithe frame. She looked up sharply at the sight of the armored Inquisitor and the stormtrooper behind him.
¡°Linna,¡± Norwa said gently, mustering a reassuring smile he didn¡¯t feel. ¡°This is¡an Imperial Inspector.¡±
Her eyes flicked over the black armor, then to the stormtrooper¡¯s blaster rifle, and finally back to Norwa. Though fear shone in her gaze, she managed to keep her voice steady when she answered the question she feared most.
¡°Where is the boy?¡± the Inquisitor asked.
¡°Out on the patio,¡± Linna replied in a guarded tone. ¡°He likes to look at the stars.¡±
The Inquisitor carefully removed his helmet. He was younger than Norwa had expected¡ªshort, neatly trimmed hair and smooth, pale skin. But his eyes were unsettling: they glowed with a faint, dull blue light, as if they belonged to something not entirely human. He placed the helmet on a nearby chair.
¡°TK-421, wait outside,¡± he ordered, and the stormtrooper stepped back, sealing the door behind him. The Inquisitor gave Linna a practiced, almost gentle nod. ¡°I¡¯d rather not frighten your son.¡±
Norwa led him through the living area to a modest patio out back, where a strip of synthetic grass separated the permacrete floor from a small heating unit. Four-year-old Galen was perched by the railing, wide-eyed at the dim skyline. He turned at the sound of approaching footsteps and stared openly at the stranger.
¡°Galen,¡± Norwa began, his throat dry. ¡°This man is¡an Imperial inspector. He¡¯s here for a short visit.¡±
The Inquisitor knelt, extending a gloved hand. ¡°Hello, Galen.¡±
Galen looked from his father to the Inquisitor¡¯s outstretched hand, then reached with his own tiny fingers for a cautious shake. The boy showed no fear¡ªonly curiosity.
Norwa and Linna hovered anxiously, unable to hide their trembling. The Inquisitor¡¯s attention remained focused on the child. Something in the air felt tense, charged, like the calm before a storm. And though Galen seemed perfectly at ease, Norwa¡¯s heart threatened to hammer its way out of his chest.
Galen examined the stranger¡¯s gauntleted hand, then timidly reached out, his small fingers wrapping around the Inquisitor¡¯s grip. There was a fleeting moment of pure silence, as though the night itself held its breath.
¡°Are you an alien?¡± Galen asked, peering curiously at the faint blue glow in the Inquisitor¡¯s eyes. ¡°They look so cool.¡±
For an instant, Norwa¡¯s stomach dropped. He expected outrage¡ªmaybe anger¡ªbut to his surprise, the Inquisitor tipped his head back and let out a genuine, low laugh, a sound incongruous with the cold, mechanical edge of his vocoder he was used to hearing.
¡°You might call me that,¡± the Inquisitor replied. ¡°I¡¯ve traveled from very far away.¡±
Galen nodded thoughtfully, then pointed inside the house. ¡°I have some toys in my room. Do you¡wanna play?¡±
Still kneeling, the Inquisitor glanced at Norwa and Linna. Neither parent could hide their shock, but they remained rooted in place, uncertain how to intervene. Slowly, the Inquisitor rose to his full height with an amused grin.
¡°Show me,¡± he said simply.
Galen turned and trotted back toward the living area. The Inquisitor followed, each step echoing ominously against the polished floor. Norwa moved to intercept them, but Linna gently touched his arm, a silent plea for calm. They exchanged a worried glance before trailing behind.
Inside, Galen dashed over to a corner where a small chest was stuffed with plush creatures, simple holo-puzzles, and a variety of plastic action figures. He rummaged around, presenting each item to the Inquisitor as if showing off priceless treasures.
¡°This one¡¯s a starfighter pilot,¡± Galen announced, holding up a scuffed figure with a removable helmet. ¡°My dad got it for me.¡± ¡°And this,¡± he said, retrieving a rubber ball from the box, ¡°bounces really high if you throw it hard.¡± He looked expectantly at the Inquisitor, who regarded the toy in his gloved hand. The contrast between the childlike innocence of the bright red ball and the dark armor was stark. After a moment, the Inquisitor tossed it lightly in the air. Galen giggled and caught it on the way down.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
¡°Perhaps you¡¯d like to see,¡± the Inquisitor said, voice lowering.
¡°See what?¡± Galen asked, tilting his head.
¡°How high it can truly go.¡± Before the boy could respond, Linna interjected, her voice trembling only slightly. ¡°Shall I¡prepare something to eat? It¡¯s late, but we could find something for you, Inspector.¡±
The Inquisitor straightened, turning toward her. ¡°Yes. Thank you.¡± Although polite, his tone carried the weight of expectation.
With a quick nod, Linna slipped past them into the kitchen area. Norwa followed, but he kept glancing over his shoulder, unable to shake the dread creeping into his veins. The Inquisitor stepped onto the patio, and Galen scampered after him, ball in hand.
In the small kitchen, Linna opened a small cooler unit and retrieved a cut of cold meat alongside some fresh fruit. She added a few slices of plain bread from a basket on the counter, grimacing at its slightly stale texture. She had been meaning to replace it, but the day¡¯s events¡ªand Norwa¡¯s delayed return¡ªhad thrown off her plans.
¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she murmured, more to herself than to Norwa. ¡°I haven¡¯t been to the shops. I thought you¡¯d bring home supplies tonight.¡±
Norwa frowned, guilt mixing with his anxiety. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect all this,¡± he said quietly, nodding his head toward the patio. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. My mind wasn¡¯t on errands.¡±
Linna quickly wiped her eyes and inhaled, as though summoning some measure of composure. She began arranging slices of fruit¡ªsome tangy and citrus-like, others soft and sweet¡ªalongside the meat, then set out the bread. It wasn¡¯t the most impressive spread, but it was the best she could do at a moment¡¯s notice.
¡°We¡¯ll make do,¡± she whispered, avoiding Norwa¡¯s gaze. ¡°He just needs¡food.¡±
They both turned at the sound of Galen¡¯s laughter drifting in from outside.
On the small patch of synthetic grass, the Inquisitor and Galen had begun floating the red rubber ball between them using the Force. The Inquisitor¡¯s hand was raised, palm outstretched, while Galen, looking increasingly delighted, mirrored his movements.
¡°Focus,¡± the Inquisitor instructed quietly, an unexpected gentleness in his voice. ¡°Reach out with your feelings.¡±
Galen scrunched up his face, brows knitted in fierce concentration. Slowly, the ball wobbled, then drifted a little closer to the boy. He let out a gasp of awe.
¡°I did it!¡± he exclaimed, voice full of joy. ¡°Did you see?!¡±
¡°I did,¡± the Inquisitor replied, a faint hint of approval. ¡°Again.¡±
Linna¡¯s eyes clamped shut as a lump caught in her throat, tears threatening to spill. She had tried so hard to keep Galen¡¯s abilities hidden, yet here he was, openly using them under the guidance of an Imperial Inquisitor. It was her worst fear realized.
¡°What do we do?¡± she whispered to Norwa, gripping his arm.
¡°I¡ª¡± Norwa began, but he never finished.
At that moment, the ball¡ªcaught in an overzealous push from Galen¡ªshot sideways through the open patio door. It streaked across the living area and ricocheted into the kitchen, striking one of the overhead cabinets with a dull thwack.
Linna yelped, nearly dropping the plate of food, and Norwa lurched backward to avoid the rebounding projectile. A second later, Galen skidded into the kitchen, breathless and red-faced.
¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± he cried, eyes darting worriedly between his parents. ¡° I didn¡¯t mean to¡¡±
He snatched up the still-bouncing ball, hugging it against his chest.
Norwa forced a strained smile for his son¡¯s sake. ¡°It¡¯s all right, Galen,¡± he said softly, resting a hand on the boy¡¯s shoulder. ¡°No harm done.¡±
Linna nodded, trying her best to keep her voice calm. ¡°We¡just got startled.¡± She glanced toward the patio door to see the Inquisitor¡¯s silhouette in the doorway, the faint glow of his eyes visible even in the shadows.
The Inquisitor stepped inside, looming over the modest kitchen. Norwa¡¯s stomach lurched at the casual way this dark emissary from the Empire now filled their personal space.
¡°I apologize,¡± the Inquisitor said with calm politeness. ¡°I did not anticipate how strong young Galen would be.¡±
¡°He¡¯s¡¡± Linna hesitated, carefully placing the tray of meat, fruit, and bread on the small table. ¡°He¡¯s just excited.¡±
Galen beamed at the praise, though he quickly fell silent under the Inquisitor¡¯s unnerving stare. After a moment, Linna cleared her throat. ¡°I¡¯m afraid this is all we have to offer, Inspector. I didn¡¯t get to the shops today, and I¡ I was expecting Norwa to bring home something.¡±
She cast her husband a pointed look, and Norwa dropped his gaze, unsure what to say. The Inquisitor, to their surprise, offered a slight bow of his head.
¡°No apologies needed,¡± he said, removing a glove before picking up a slice of bread. ¡°I recall days when my own father would return home late¡always with fresh chic-poultry and locally baked rolls. My mother coated them in a mild honey.¡± A faint wistfulness touched his tone, and his unsettling eyes seemed momentarily distant. ¡°I can still remember the smell...¡±
Linna blinked, caught off-guard by this glimpse of humanity. For a moment, the ominous figure of the Inquisitor softened¡ªless of a nightmare in black armor, more of a flesh-and-blood man with memories of simpler times.
¡°Well,¡± she managed, quietly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry we don¡¯t have anything like that. We¡ª¡±
¡°Truly, it is fine,¡± the Inquisitor cut in, though not unkindly. He took a tentative bite of bread and chewed with measured calm. It was better than he expected it to be.
Galen, who had been watching with bright, curious eyes, piped up, ¡°Do you like it? I know it¡¯s just plain bread.¡± He glanced over at the meager slices of fruit and cold meat. ¡°Mom makes better dinners on normal days.¡±
¡°I can taste the care put into it,¡± the Inquisitor said. ¡°And that is enough.¡±
He reached next for a piece of fruit, carefully turning it over in his hand. Norwa noticed the man¡¯s demeanor had shifted¡ªsomehow less intense, if only by a fraction. Yet tension still crackled in the air; the threat to their family, and to the planet, remained all too real.
Norwa stood rigidly at the edge of the kitchen, one arm protectively around Galen¡¯s shoulders. He exchanged a furtive glance with Linna, both of them painfully aware that her worst fear¡ªthe discovery of Galen¡¯s gift¡ªwas now reality.
For now, though, they had something akin to a reprieve¡ªno immediate violence, just a makeshift meal in a cramped kitchen. And if the Inquisitor¡¯s distant gaze truly held any trace of fond memory, it was a reminder that even monsters sometimes recall being human.
Unfortunately, fond memories can only hold the peaceful lie back for so long.
A subtle chill passed through the cramped kitchen as the Inquisitor finished his bread and fruit. He dabbed at his mouth with a cloth napkin¡ªan almost gentlemanly gesture¡ªand turned his unnerving gaze back to Linna and Norwa. Galen lingered at the threshold, drawn by curiosity and the novelty of having a dark-clad stranger in his home. Yet the tension coiling in the air kept him close to his parents.
The Inquisitor picked up the last slice of meat¡ªsomewhere between ham and turkey in flavor¡ªand chewed with deliberate slowness. ¡°Thank you for the meal,¡± he offered cordially. Then he regarded Linna with mild interest. ¡°Tell me, Mrs. Opi, do you work outside the home?¡±
Linna stiffened, forcing a polite nod. ¡°I¡¯m a pediatrician,¡± she said softly, ¡°at the pre-school where Galen attends.¡±
The Inquisitor tilted his head. ¡°A droid could handle routine health checks and procedures. Why entrust something so critical to an organic caretaker?¡±
Linna¡¯s jaw clenched a little. She could feel Norwa shift beside her, tense with concern. ¡°Children,¡± she said, ¡°need more than just someone to scan vitals and apply vaccines. They need warmth, reassurance¡a mother¡¯s touch.¡± She paused. ¡°That¡¯s not in any droid¡¯s programming.¡±
For a long beat, the Inquisitor said nothing. Then a faint chuckle escaped him. ¡°Yes, I suppose younglings benefit from gentle guidance. We forget how important that can be.¡±
He beckoned to Galen, who took a few tentative steps forward. ¡°Do you enjoy school, Galen?¡±
The boy¡¯s face lit up with the same enthusiasm he¡¯d shown moments earlier on the patio. ¡°Yes! We learn lots of stuff, and I get to play with my friends. Mom¡ªuh, Dr. Linna¡ªsometimes visits my class if I fall down or get sick. She¡¯s the best.¡±
The Inquisitor¡¯s lips curved in something akin to a smile. He placed a hand lightly on Galen¡¯s shoulder, the gauntlet reflecting the overhead light. ¡°What if,¡± he said in an almost coaxing tone, ¡°you could go to an academy with children just like you? Children who share your¡special talent.¡±
Instantly, Linna¡¯s stomach dropped, and Norwa¡¯s breath caught in his throat. The Inquisitor¡¯s next words sealed their dread:
¡°One rather like the one your mother attended.¡±
He directed a cold smile at Linna, and every hair on her neck stood up. I am what Jedi fear, he had once told Norwa. That truth pressed down like a crushing weight, and through the strange bond Norwa always felt with Linna, he sensed her terror. Her face went ashen.
¡°Galen,¡± she blurted, voice shaky, ¡°go to your room. Now.¡±
Galen blinked, suddenly uneasy. ¡°B-But¡ª¡±
Norwa quickly stepped in. ¡°Listen to your mother.¡± He scooped the boy around the shoulders and gently guided him away. Galen cast a worried glance back, confused by his parents¡¯ sudden change in demeanor. But Norwa kept them moving, down the hall and out of earshot.
In the kitchen, the Inquisitor finished off the last bite of meat. The savory taste lingered in his mouth, reminding him oddly of home¡ªof simpler times that he insisted to himself were long buried. A certain satisfaction glimmered in his unsettling eyes as he regarded Linna, who stood rooted in place.
She swallowed hard, trying to think of what to say, how to stall. But the Inquisitor wore a smug, knowing smile, as though relishing the fear that rolled off her in waves.
Finally, she spoke one word. A name that trembled with grief and regret.
¡°Kento?¡±
The Inquisitor arched an eyebrow. ¡°By now,¡± he said with almost clinical detachment, ¡°most likely dead¡ªif one of my Brothers disobeyed orders.¡±
Linna¡¯s heart twisted. Kento Marek. The man who had been her fellow Jedi, her first love¡ªher husband before she¡¯d ever laid eyes on Norwa. They had left the Order together when the Council condemned their relationship. In the chaos that followed, they drifted into the galaxy at large, vowing secrecy. But old friends had reached out to Kento. He left for Kashyyyk, and she never saw him again.
¡°I simply want the boy to be reunited with his father,¡± the Inquisitor continued, sliding his empty plate aside and folding his hands. ¡°No bloodshed, no tiresome fights. Negotiation and extortion is all I wish for tonight.¡±
Linna¡¯s pulse hammered in her ears. She found herself unable to look away from his chilling gaze. Kento¡still alive? Surely she would have felt him? It was too much, too soon. Her mind spun.
Just then, Norwa returned, shutting the door behind him. ¡°He¡¯s not happy about it,¡± he said curtly, ¡°but Galen¡¯s in his room.¡±
The Inquisitor shifted his attention to the man. ¡°Did you know about Kento, Linna¡¯s previous husband?¡±
Norwa let out a humorless laugh. ¡°Of course. She told me they¡¯d been¡involved.¡± His eyes flicked accusingly to Linna. ¡°We all worked together for years¡ªKento, Linna, and me¡ªon and off. But I never knew she was a kriffing Jedi. That part was conveniently left out.¡±
He stepped closer to Linna, anger smoldering beneath his fear. ¡°You let me marry you without telling me this? That you were¡ªwhat, a traitor? A Jedi who didn¡¯t stand with the rest of them when they betrayed the Republic?¡±
Linna¡¯s face crumpled. ¡°I left the Order long before any of this happened,¡± she protested, voice cracking. ¡°They disapproved of us¡ªKento and me. We had no choice. And after we parted, after he left me and after I married you¡ª¡± She struggled for words. ¡°I just wanted a normal life.¡±
Norwa¡¯s fists balled at his sides. ¡°Normal? You lied to me.¡± He pressed an accusatory finger in her face and pointed to the hallway door. ¡°And Galen¡he¡¯s not my son at all, is he?¡± He turned to the Inquisitor, voice thick with bitterness. ¡°Take him. If he¡¯s Kento¡¯s child, then he isn¡¯t mine.¡±
The Inquisitor¡¯s expression remained dispassionate, though something flickered behind those glowing eyes¡ªan echo of a memory he tried to keep buried. Still, he said nothing, content to let this drama play out.
Linna¡¯s eyes darted between her husband and the Inquisitor, horror dawning on her. Norwa¡¯s rejection stung more than any lightsaber wound ever could. He¡¯s giving Galen away¡ She felt her heart drop like a stone into her stomach. My son¡lost to me.
Grief and terror coalesced into a desperate resolve. Linna would not let her child disappear into the Empire¡¯s clutches¡ªnor would she allow Kento¡¯s potential survival to be twisted into some bargaining chip.
With an abrupt motion of her hand, she called on the Force. The small kitchen table jolted forward, smashing into the Inquisitor and sending him sprawling across the floor. Plates and cutlery clattered onto the tiles; the vase on the corner table shattered as it toppled, shards scattering like glittering confetti.
Norwa gasped, stumbling back in alarm. The Inquisitor let out a guttural curse, more surprised than hurt, as he struggled to regain his footing.
But Linna wasn¡¯t finished. She flung out her other hand, summoning a cylindrical hilt from where it had been hidden beneath a loose floorboard near the wall. The hilt soared into her grasp, and with a snap-hiss, a green blade ignited, bathing the cramped kitchen in emerald light.
Tears streaked her cheeks, and she placed herself squarely in front of Galen¡¯s room, weapon held protectively. Her gaze flicked to Norwa¡ªwho stood stunned by the sink¡ªand then back to the Inquisitor, who was already scrambling to his feet.
¡°You will not take him from me!¡± she cried, voice cracking with heartbreak. The trembling tip of her lightsaber pointed, for the briefest moment, at Norwa rather than the Inquisitor. Her husband froze, shock and betrayal etched into his features.
Still on the floor, the Inquisitor¡¯s hands were pressed against his stomach as he rose, rattled but unbroken. Linna¡¯s sudden display of power had caught him off guard, but the glint in his eyes said he would recover quickly.
A heavy silence settled over the kitchen. Shattered glass and scattered scraps of food littered the floor. Linna¡¯s shoulders heaved, tears dropping onto the laminate. In her mind, there was no turning back now¡ªno chance for a peaceful solution.
Linna stood trembling, green lightsaber buzzing with lethal intensity, its glow illuminating the pale fear on her face.
Norwa¡¯s heart pounded like a war drum. He kept his hands raised in a gesture of placation. ¡°Linna¡ªlisten¡ªthis is madness. He¡¯ll kill you just like the rest. I saw what he can do!¡±
She scoffed, eyes blazing with fury. ¡°But my son¡ªour son¡ªis not his plaything. I¡¯m done with this fa?ade.¡±
Norwa swallowed hard, stepping closer despite his terror. ¡°We can work something out, run¡anything. I love you. I always have.¡±
Linna¡¯s lip curled bitterly. ¡°Love?¡± she spat, taking a step toward him, lightsaber humming. ¡°Where was that love when you offered Galen up to that monster?¡±
¡°Please¡¡± He reached out, voice quavering. ¡°Don¡¯t do this. Think of Galen¡ª¡±
A guttural cry tore from her throat as she lunged forward, green blade slicing toward Norwa¡¯s midsection with speed that took him utterly by surprise. He barely had time to flinch, expecting to feel the burn of plasma shearing him in half.
But the blow never came.
Norwa opened his eyes to find Linna standing rigid, fingers clawing at her throat, lightsaber wavering in her grip. She gasped for air, her eyes rolling in fear and agony. The saber hissed as it dropped to the floor, extinguishing with a sputtering spark.
At first, Norwa could only stand there, blinking in confusion. Then he glanced down the corridor. The Inquisitor was standing at the far end, helmet cradled under his arm, right hand clenched into a fist. It took no imagination to guess what he was doing¡ªhe was choking Linna with the Force, slowly, cruelly.
¡°Stop!¡± Norwa yelled, stumbling forward. ¡°Stop, please! I¡¯ll¡ªI¡¯ll give you anything you want! Credits, Galen¡ªjust¡ªdon¡¯t kill her!¡±
He fell to his hands and knees, chest heaving with desperation. ¡°Please,¡± he begged. ¡°She¡ªshe doesn¡¯t know what she¡¯s doing¡ªshe¡¯s frightened¡ª¡±
The Inquisitor¡¯s icy gaze fixed on Linna as she sank to her knees, face mottled from lack of oxygen. His voice, devoid of warmth, resonated through the cramped hallway.
¡°You remind me too much of her,¡± he said, each word dripping with frost. ¡°And your husband has no spine. You sicken me, both of you.¡±
Linna¡¯s choking intensified for a final heartbeat; then, with a flick of the Inquisitor¡¯s wrist, he released her. She slumped to the floor, gasping and clutching at her raw throat. Weakly, she reached for her lightsaber. Her fingers scrabbled against the tile until¡ª
A sudden yank of the Force tore the hilt away, but not into the Inquisitor¡¯s hand.
A brilliant snap-hiss lit the hallway in emerald green. Galen stood in the doorframe, both hands clutched around the saber¡¯s grip, eyes wide with terror. The boy had crept out upon hearing the commotion, and now he held the humming blade aloft, a trembling imitation of what he must have seen his mother do.
¡°Mom? Dad?¡± he croaked, voice trembling with confusion and horror.
Linna tried to speak, but could only cough and sputter, one hand outstretched toward her son. Norwa remained on the floor, sweat beading his forehead, unsure whether to rush to Linna¡¯s side or try to calm Galen.
The Inquisitor calmly set his helmet atop his head, sealing it with a faint hiss of pressurization. The vocoder¡¯s synthesized voice echoed ominously off the walls.
¡°Galen,¡± he intoned, stepping past Norwa. ¡°Would you like to meet your father¡ªyour real one?¡±
Silence fell, broken only by Linna¡¯s labored wheezing. The green glow of the saber bathed all their faces in sickly, flickering light. The Inquisitor¡¯s visor focused on the boy, reveling in the manipulative power he held. He was enjoying every second of their torment.
And with that question hanging in the air¡ªlike a knife poised to drop¡ªthe bizarre nightmare refused to end for Alonzo.
Chapter 16: A Small Kindness
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 16: A Small Kindness
¡°Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those around you who transform into the Force. Mourn them do not. Miss them do not.¡±- Jedi Master Yoda
6 BBY
Location: Hyperspace - The Scythe¡¯s Cockpit
I feel the gentle thrum of the Scythe¡¯s engines resonate through my bones, a tactile echo in the Force. Even without real eyes, I can sense the ship¡¯s contours¡ªthe press of the cockpit walls, the subtle tension in TK-421¡¯s posture, and the soft, uneven heartbeat of young Galen Marek behind us. He¡¯s still asleep, strapped into a fold-out emergency chair.
I shift my gauntleted hand and let my fingers graze the hilt hanging from my belt. Linna Marek¡¯s lightsaber. The thing hums quietly with the residue of her presence¡ªshe was strong, once. That she¡¯s still breathing is a complication I¡¯ll have to explain. Executing a rogue Jedi is routine for Inquisitors. Letting one live? That is something else altogether.
TK-421 clears his throat. I sense the swirl of his emotions¡ªa swirl of loyalty and perpetual caution. ¡°Everything¡okay, sir?¡± he asks softly, mindful not to wake the boy.
I exhale, the sound carrying more weariness than I intended. ¡°If by ¡®okay¡¯ you mean have I sorted out how to justify this mission to my superiors, then no. Linna Marek is alive. I left her behind, wounded, but breathing. The report won¡¯t be straightforward.¡±
TK-421¡¯s hands tighten on the yoke. ¡°Why not just kill her? Or say you did?¡±
I let my head tilt forward, as though studying the darkness beyond the viewport. In truth, I¡¯m seeing it in my own way¡ªthrough the threads of the Force, the luminous swirl of hyperspace. ¡°Because¡Galen came willingly,¡± I say at last. ¡°Her death would have served no purpose. And we needed to leave in a hurry.¡±
A lie, partially. Part of me suspects I simply didn¡¯t have the stomach for it. Another part wonders if the boy would have resisted if he watched me strike his mother down in cold blood. That bond between mother and child¡
¡°So, how are you going to explain it?¡± TK-421 presses.
I rub my thumb over the lightsaber¡¯s brushed metal. ¡°I¡¯ll say she was¡critically wounded. That we had a narrow window to escape the father¡¯s¡ªNorwa¡¯s¡ªsupporters before they rallied. Any number of excuses. The truth is, in the end, we got what we wanted.¡± My gaze¡ªor the closest thing I have to one¡ªshifts toward Galen. He murmurs softly, lost in some dream.
TK-421 follows my line of thought. ¡°What happens to the kid now?¡±
I don¡¯t answer right away. Instead, I extend a cautious brush of the Force toward Galen, sensing his raw potential. The boy¡¯s power tastes like bright, untamed electricity. ¡°Lord Vader may want him,¡± I finally said, voice hushed. ¡°Could see him as an¡apprentice of sorts. Or he¡¯ll be processed, like all the other children we find. Indoc¡conditioning, re-education¡ªwhatever they¡¯re calling it these days.¡±
I can practically hear TK¡¯s unease, though he tries to tamp it down. ¡°You don¡¯t sound thrilled about it.¡±
A humorless smile tugs at my lips. ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I admit. ¡°There¡¯s a part of me that wants to¡take him. To run. Train him properly¡ªif I even knew what that entailed.¡± My laugh comes out dry, hollow. ¡°I¡¯ve been an Inquisitor for so long, I don¡¯t know how to meditate without drawing on anger or fear.¡±
The cockpit goes quiet except for the steady hum of hyperspace. I flick through possible futures in my head: me, Galen, and TK-421 fleeing into the outer rim, forging a new life. But I know it¡¯s a fantasy. The Empire¡¯s reach is too vast. And what would I even teach him? I don¡¯t know the first thing about being a Jedi.
¡°We both know that¡¯s suicide,¡± TK-421 says gently. Not a challenge, more a resigned acceptance. ¡°They¡¯d hunt you across every sector.¡±
¡°They¡¯d succeed,¡± I confirm. ¡°Lord Vader, the Emperor¡they¡¯d never let us vanish.¡± I shake off the thought, letting my focus return to the present. ¡°You¡¯re not the only one who wonders about how it all ends, trooper. Believe me, our fates are bound to this Empire in blood.¡±
He doesn¡¯t respond, but I sense his agreement in the faint slump of his shoulders.
After a moment, I sigh. ¡°This mission¡¯s going into the books with a dozen half-truths. Another twisted success story for the Inquisitorius, no doubt.¡±
¡°Better than a failure,¡± TK-421 offers.
I let my fingers drift again to the lightsaber hilt. ¡°Better?¡± I echo. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s debatable.¡± A flicker of memory¡ªKota on Nar Shaddaa, a minor legend who died at my hands. Another name erased, another point of conscience chipped away. And yet, I left Linna alive. Why?
Galen stirs, and we both pause. The boy lets out a small moan, but remains asleep. The cockpit returns to its hush. The swirl of the Force around him is intense¡ªuntrained brilliance waiting to be shaped. I wonder if Vader will mold him into a monster or if the boy might retain some spark of innocence. The Force only knows.
¡°Sir?¡± TK-421 prompts, as if expecting another reflection.
I grip the co-pilot¡¯s seat, forcing my thoughts to still. ¡°Set a course for Mustafar, once we exit hyperspace¡± I say quietly, deciding on the next best step for an official handoff. ¡°I¡¯d rather get it all done and over with. Vader can do what he wants with me.¡± He nods, and the ship¡¯s engines pulse as we adjust our heading. I allow myself one last fleeting fantasy: taking Galen and disappearing into the cosmos. But the moment passes, replaced by the suffocating reality of the Empire¡¯s shadow.
My useless eyes burn with something akin to regret. We are what these monsters have made us.
Location: Mustafar Orbit
We broke from hyperspace above Mustafar, the Scythe¡¯s hull shuddering at the abrupt transition. Even before the planet came into visual range, I felt him¡ªDarth Vader¡ªlike a vortex of pain and suffering spiraling outward into the Force. Mustafar¡¯s dark side presence only heightened my unease, stirring old pity I once held for the machine man. A pity I no longer dared admit.
TK-421 handled the controls up front, guiding us into the planet¡¯s atmosphere. I stood behind him in the cockpit, letting my Miralukan senses unfurl across the volcanic surface below. Through the Force, I detected the fortress¡ªan obsidian spire rising from molten fields of lava. And beyond that, barely registering as a flickering beacon, was Kento Marek, the Jedi prisoner we were here to see. The older man¡¯s mind brushed against mine, reaching out in desperation for a presence he recognized: his son.
Galen Marek dozed fitfully in that same fold-out seat he had been in the entire trip, arms and legs dangling in the harness. Already, I felt Kento trying to connect with him, even from this distance. But I would not allow it. Reaching into the darkest corners of my power, I summoned the Force to create a barrier between father and son. If they were to meet, it would be face to face, free of Force hijinks or whispered telepathic goodbyes. Perhaps I¡¯m giving them a courtesy I never had.
A sharp pang of memory flared in my mind: a different life, a different time¡ªwhen I had never met my own father, and never would. I clenched my jaw, pushing the thoughts behind a mental wall. Mustafar was steeped in the dark side, and I drew on that oppressive energy to bury my regret, to keep my composure. I couldn¡¯t risk letting Vader sense any weakness.
¡°Sir,¡± TK-421 said, ¡°we¡¯re settling into the final approach.¡±
I nodded, sensing the Scythe slice through Mustafar¡¯s thick clouds of soot and ash. The cockpit glowed with sullen orange from the molten rivers below. As we neared Vader¡¯s fortress, my mind flicked to another piece of my past: a VR simulation from another life, where I had prowled these same corridors, fought stormtroopers, even downed a TIE fighter. Eventually, I faced Vader in that digital hellscape. My gut twisted at the thought of crossing sabers with him here, in brutal reality. I prayed it would never come to that.
The Scythe touched down on a platform inside the castle¡¯s main hangar, the ramp hissing open to belch a wave of oppressive heat into the cabin. Galen stirred, rubbing his eyes.
¡°Are we here?¡± he mumbled, blinking at the glowing haze. ¡°It¡¯s so¡hot.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
¡°We are,¡± I said quietly. ¡°Follow me.¡±
TK-421 cast me a questioning glance from under his helmet. I answered with a brief nod. ¡°Stay with the ship,¡± I instructed. ¡°Keep the engines primed, just in case.¡±
Galen unbuckled and hopped off the emergency chair, marveling at the spectacle of lava flows visible through the shielded hangar barrier. ¡°This place is awesome!¡± he said, wide-eyed.
Awesome, yes¡ªif one appreciated the twisted grandeur of a world shaped by endless destruction. I couldn¡¯t deny part of me found it striking. A real fortress, I thought, recalling how ironically similar it was to that VR version I¡¯d once ¡°played¡± through. Only now, the stakes were lethal.
At the foot of the ramp, Admiral Gable Karius awaited us, flanked by two stormtroopers. The sight of him made Galen recoil for a second¡ªno surprise, given the man¡¯s heavily augmented frame. Karius was mostly metal, with only the right side of his face still fleshy. His left arm ended in a skeletal prosthetic, each servo whirring in precise increments. Even I found it eerie, and I was used to the Emperor¡¯s bizarre menagerie of half-droids.
¡°Inquisitor,¡± Karius greeted, voice resonating from a metallic voicebox grafted near his throat. ¡°Lord Vader sends his regards. I trust your mission was a success?¡±
He glanced pointedly at Galen, his single organic eye flickering with curiosity.
¡°Something like that,¡± I said. I felt Kento¡¯s Force signature pulse again¡ªan attempt to reach Galen. Once more, I blocked it with a silent surge of energy, slamming shut the boy¡¯s mind like a vault.
Karius invited us to follow. Behind him, the gloom of Vader¡¯s fortress loomed, halls lit with dull red glow panels that reminded me of ancient crypts. Galen padded close, shielding his face from a passing gust of superheated air.
¡°Admiral,¡± I ventured, ¡°you¡¯re here on Lord Vader¡¯s orders?¡±
Karius gave a curt nod, mechanical arm twitching. ¡°Indeed. My Lord instructs you to see the prisoner before reporting to him. The situation is¡delicate.¡±
I swallowed. Delicate¡ code for something complicated¡ªVader rarely used that word. Or any word to denote caution. ¡°Lead the way.¡±
We crossed a wide corridor, the fortress¡¯s interior brimming with the dark side. It fueled my mental resolve, letting me drown out the tender recollections that threatened to surface. I never knew my father, never had that chance. But I¡¯d make sure Galen at least saw Kento in the flesh, for better or worse.
Galen coughed lightly at the pervasive smell of brimstone, but kept pace. He craned his neck, dazzled by the high arched ceilings. ¡°Is this my father¡¯s house?¡± he asked, half in awe.
¡°You could say it belongs to¡someone else,¡± I replied, carefully vague. ¡°But yes, your father¡¯s waiting for you here.¡±
That earned me a beaming smile, and a pang of guilt twisted in my chest. If only he knew. I hardened my expression to keep from showing weakness, forging on into the gloom. The Force thrummed with foreboding¡ªVader¡¯s presence a black hole, devouring all emotion in its path.
I still remembered that old VR game and the duel. In hindsight, it was restrictive and wildly inaccurate in how one used the Force or a lightsaber. Yet I remember Vader being an absolute monster to fight. The real Vader would be no kinder if I crossed him. All I can do is comply. For now, I had Galen in tow. The future would unfold soon enough, once father and son reunited in the halls of the Empire¡¯s darkest domain.
And behind every step, Kento¡¯s failing heartbeat resonated in the Force, straining to reach the son he¡¯d never properly met¡ªuntil I slammed that door shut again. Let them meet in person. Let them speak, or scream, or cry as living beings, not disembodied echoes in the Force. I never had that option. But perhaps they still did.
We took an elevator down to the detention center¡ªmyself, Admiral Gable Karius, and little Galen Marek. The admiral led the way, his mechanical limbs whirring in the stale air. Galen clung to me, steps hesitant.When the elevator doors slid open, we stepped into the security hub. Several officers saluted Admiral Karius. In my attuned perception through the Force, I noted three stormtroopers, two security guards, and a Purge Trooper lurking near a bank of monitors. Something about that Purge Trooper¡¯s presence stood out like a void¡ªresistant to my surface scans. That was their nature. Well-trained, well-augmented. Deadly, if they needed to be.
¡°Prisoner number 96008,¡± Karius said, striding to the main console. ¡°Authorized visitation for the Inquisitor and¡¡± He glanced at Galen. ¡°¡the child.¡±
A security officer punched in the code, then gestured us forward. Karius nodded at the cell door across the hall. ¡°Take as much time as needed. I¡¯ll wait out here.¡±
I turned toward the locked entrance, feeling a pulse of dread in my gut. Now I understood what Lord Vader meant by ¡®delicate.¡¯ The prisoner beyond that door was the father of the boy at my side, battered nearly to death. I felt him in the Force, dim and flickering like a dying star. Yet, even in his weakened state, he was trying to reach out¡ªto sense Galen. I kept an iron hold on the dark side, blocking that telepathic link so father and son could meet face-to-face.
With a wave of my hand, I opened the door, stepping into a dimly lit chamber reeking of antiseptics and old blood. Kento floated in a containment field, swaying slightly¡ªrobes torn and bloody, one leg missing. Needles protruded from his arms, likely administering the Imperial interrogation drugs that had left his mind addled. The soft hum of the field thrummed against my senses.
I locked the door behind me with the Force, letting the gloom of countless tortures fill my spirit. This place had seen so many Jedi break. It fueled the negativity I clung to for power. And it kept me from flinching at the ¡®sight¡¯ of a broken man.
¡°Father?¡± Galen gasped, stumbling forward. ¡°Father!¡±
The boy¡¯s eyes were wide with horror. He reached the edge of the containment field and glanced back at me, pleading. ¡°Help him!¡±
I folded my arms, leaning against the door¡¯s control panel. In the suffocating hush, I remembered my own interrogation under Vader¡ªlosing my freedom, but never a limb. Kento wasn¡¯t so lucky.
Sensing our presence, Kento¡¯s eyes fluttered open. I felt his shock, anger, and surprise spike in the Force. And something else¡. My jaw clenched. Thank the void I wore a helmet, where no one could see my expression.
¡°My son,¡± Kento rasped, voice trembling. ¡°Galen¡ What are you¡ª¡± He dragged his gaze to me, blinking furiously. ¡°Why did you bring him here?¡±
He coughed, struggling for air. I pushed off the wall, arms still folded over my chest. ¡°Your wife is safe. Your home is safe. And for now, your son is safe.¡± I could feel Kento¡¯s eyes flick to the lightsaber hanging from my belt and I felt him try to probe my mind. This time, I let him, offering him a glimpse of truth: Linna living, Bar Nava¡¯s leadership intact. A small kindness, I told myself.
Kento¡¯s shoulders shook with relief, though it only deepened his heartbreak. ¡°I¡¯m¡so sorry, Galen,¡± he whispered, turning back to his boy. ¡°I never wanted to leave you. I¡ª¡±
Galen pressed close to the field¡¯s edge, tears spilling down his cheeks. ¡°Dad, I have your pilot figure,¡± he said, fumbling in his pocket for a small toy. ¡°See? I took it with me.¡±
Kento stared at the scuffed starfighter pilot figurine, eyes brimming with tears. For a moment, the containment field hummed faintly between them, but the father still smiled. It was the smile of a man who realized he might never see his child again. Then he choked on a sob.
¡°I never wanted this for you,¡± he managed, tears dripping onto his tattered robe. ¡°I never wanted any of this¡¡± His breathing grew shallow. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, son.¡±
At that moment, Kento turned those half-lidded eyes to me¡ªdesperate, pleading. ¡°Keep him safe,¡± he begged hoarsely. ¡°Keep him¡away from Vader¡¡±
I said nothing. My heart thundered. All I could do was feel the cold press of the dark side in my veins, forcing me to remain silent. The door behind me slid open. A deep hiss of mechanized breathing filled the chamber. Galen gasped, spinning around.
Darth Vader stood there, towering in black. Kento was too far gone to sense him until that very instant. At Vader¡¯s presence, the Force seemed to constrict, thick with finality.
¡°This boy is far stronger than expected, Inquisitor,¡± Vader intoned, his voice a baritone rasp echoing in the sealed cell. He turned his skull-like mask toward me. ¡°You have done well today.¡±
Some subtle gesture of Vader¡¯s left hand deactivated the containment field. Kento dropped onto the cold floor with a ragged cry, missing leg twisting awkwardly. Galen rushed to him, arms outstretched.
¡°Dad!¡± the boy sobbed.
But Kento barely had time to register his son¡¯s touch before he jerked upright, choking. I sensed Vader¡¯s ruthless will tightening like a vise on the old Jedi¡¯s throat. Kento¡¯s face contorted, eyes bulging. A moment later, there was a sharp crack. His neck snapped under the invisible pressure. Vader let the body fall, lifeless, in front of his horrified child.
Galen staggered backward, trembling, tears pouring down his cheeks. Shock, grief, fury all warred in the Force around him. Every emotion flared like molten lava.
A four-year-old child, full of such potential with the Force. All those emotions were directed at one, single man. And he unleashed it all.
For a heartbeat, the air itself seemed to thicken, charged with energy that crackled across my senses like tiny arcs of lightning. Then, all at once, it erupted.
A fierce Force push thundered through the cell, jolting me backward. It slammed into Darth Vader as well, the dim lights flickering wildly. I saw sparks dance along the metal walls, an electric discharge that hummed with the boy¡¯s anguish.
Instinct took over before my mind caught up. I felt the dark side surge within me¡ªmy usual source of power in dire moments¡ªyet there was something else, too, something more primal guiding my hands. Like a puppet on invisible strings, I threw my arms up and formed a hasty barrier around myself, letting the roiling Force wash around me in a swirl of negative energy. The blow was intense, far stronger than I¡¯d have expected from a four-year-old.
Vader, for his part, simply wrapped himself in the folds of the dark side, forging a protective shell against Galen¡¯s explosion of power. He bore the brunt of it without flinching, though I sensed the Force snap and crackle around him, jolting like stray lightning. Beneath that mask, he must have felt the impact as surely as I did.
For a second, the lights stuttered¡ªon, off, on¡ªthrowing the cell into a dance of shadows. Even the outer hallway¡¯s power fluxed in response to Galen¡¯s unleashed fury. Then, as abruptly as it began, the wave receded, leaving the boy panting, tears streaming down his face. He inhaled, readying another strike.
Vader moved faster than I could track¡ªone harsh gesture, a concentrated injection of dark side energy directed at Galen. The boy¡¯s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, unconscious, onto the cold floor.
A somber silence settled over the room, broken only by my own ragged breathing. Vader turned away from the boy without a hint of concern, the edges of his imposing silhouette still crackling with residual sparks of Force powered lightning.
¡°Your report, Inquisitor,¡± he ordered, voice resonating through the vocoder like an executioner¡¯s sentence.
His address snapped me out of the shock of what transpired and I felt my hand instinctually reach for the green bladed lightsaber clipped to my belt.
Chapter 17: Training Interrupted
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 17: Training Interrupted
¡°Let me give you a little nugget of truth, my acolytes, The Force doesn¡¯t dictate a path; it only illuminates what already lies inside your heart. And a righteous anger burns in all of you.¡±
6BBY - Six Months Later
Location: Fortress Inquisitorius - Sublevel 2
Sublevel 2 was a labyrinth of cold durasteel corridors illuminated by harsh, flickering overhead lights. The walls were paneled in a charcoal-black metal, each section stamped with numeric designations that hinted at the sprawling complexity of Fortress Inquisitorius. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and stale recirculated oxygen, giving everything a faint chemical tang. Droid sentinels hovered at key intersections, quietly observing traffic, while a smattering of stormtroopers stood at attention, their polished helmets reflecting the relentless glow.
This level served as a training ground for Force-sensitive children¡ªsome recruited through deals, others taken against their parents¡¯ will. Droid instructors handled most lessons, their mechanical voices unyielding in their insistence on discipline and precision. Here, Galen, now five years old, struggled to keep up with coursework more suited to advanced teenagers. He filed into a makeshift classroom¡ªlittle more than a bare, open space with a holo-projector in the center¡ªflanked by six other initiates. Some were human, others alien, each carrying their own scars and secrets.
A protocol droid in the front hummed to life, projecting a three-dimensional star map onto the floor.
¡°Today¡¯s primary subject: gravitational well mechanics and Phase 4 hyperlane disruptions,¡± it droned, monotone and emotionless.
Galen¡¯s head spun. He might have been bright for his age, but the Empire demanded too much too soon.
¡°Why do we have to learn this?¡± asked Tazza, a Togruta girl of twelve. Her striped lekku twitched with annoyance. ¡°We¡¯re not nav officers, we¡¯re¡¡± She hesitated, glancing around for a moment. ¡°We¡¯re just kids.¡±
¡°Yeah, kids with a special ¡®gift,¡¯¡± retorted Corvan, a Zabrak boy of about twelve, absently rubbing a horn on his forehead. ¡°You really think they¡¯re letting us off easy?¡±
A wiry Rodian named Kimmar, only eight years old, tapped the hilt of a training baton clipped to his belt. ¡°I heard they want us to understand how fleets move, so we can anticipate their positions,¡± he said in a reedy voice. ¡°Or something like that.¡±
Sresh, a nine-year-old Twi¡¯lek with pale blue skin, snorted. ¡°That¡¯s what they said about the last lesson, too. Memory implants, infiltration strategies¡ We¡¯re like, I don¡¯t know, mini-spies?¡±
¡°Nah,¡± interrupted Fevi, a Mirialan girl of thirteen who had dark geometric tattoos decorating her cheeks. ¡°Spies get to go outside. We¡¯re stuck here until we ¡®graduate¡¯¡ª¡± She made sarcastic air quotes with her fingers. ¡°¡ªor vanish like Bondio did.¡±
At that comment, a heavy silence fell across the group. The memory of Bondio¡¯s abrupt disappearance still stung. No one had received a straight answer about where he went¡ªor if he was even alive.
¡°So don¡¯t fail,¡± Fevi added quietly, glancing at Galen with a mixture of concern and disdain.
Norzok, the oldest at fifteen and a boisterous human with short-cropped dark hair, nudged Kimmar aside. ¡°Hey, move it, squeaker,¡± he said before turning to Galen. A contemptuous grin spread across his face. ¡°And look who¡¯s here¡ªLittle Brother. The special guest of the Inquisitor. Heard he¡¯s coming again today.¡±
Galen tried not to shrink under Norzok¡¯s gaze. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m not special,¡± he said, fists clenched at his sides. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for him to come.¡±
¡°You sure don¡¯t act like you hate it,¡± Norzok shot back, crossing his arms. ¡°Bet you get private lessons, fancy meals. Think you¡¯re so important?¡±
A flicker of anger tugged at Galen, but he forced it down, recalling his mother¡¯s words about being nice. ¡°He just checks on my progress,¡± he muttered. ¡°That¡¯s all.¡±
Tazza exhaled in frustration. ¡°Would you all shut up? I¡¯m trying to figure out what the droid is saying about singularity thresholds.¡± She grimaced. ¡°This is way beyond what I learned at home.¡±
Corvan sighed. ¡°At least you had a home. Some of us were snatched too young to remember anything else.¡±
¡°Lucky you,¡± Fevi grumbled. ¡°Memories are overrated anyway.¡±
Norzok kicked at the base of the holo-projector stand, then leaned toward Galen. ¡°You keep messing up, you¡¯ll end up just like Bondio. You even know where they took him? Heard it¡¯s some science lab on Eriadu. Or maybe they fed him to rancors. Could be anything.¡±
Galen¡¯s eyes widened in alarm. He opened his mouth to retort, but Tazza cut him off. ¡°Stop being such a jerk, Norzok. You don¡¯t know anything.¡± She threw Galen an apologetic glance, but said no more.
Kimmar piped up again, voice wavering. ¡°I really hope we don¡¯t fail. I kinda like some of this stuff. It¡¯s cool to learn about starships¡¡±
¡°Starships?¡± Sresh repeated, shaking his head. ¡°You do realize that¡¯s just the Empire training us to fight its wars, right?¡±
¡°It¡¯s always war with these guys,¡± Fevi muttered. ¡°Maybe we¡¯re the next wave of¡ what do they call them? Inquisitors?¡±
¡°We¡¯re not that special,¡± Tazza said softly, sounding almost wistful.
Corvan scoffed. ¡°Speak for yourself. I¡¯m plenty special.¡±
¡°And I¡¯m the king of Malastare,¡± Norzok mocked, though there was a wry glint in his eye. ¡°I¡¯m proud of my past. Learned a lot picking pockets and outrunning Enforcers. That¡¯s how you get strong.¡±
The tension built as the droid rambled on about hyperlane disruptions, oblivious to the children¡¯s whispered quarrels. Eventually, the lesson ended, signaled by a harsh tone blaring from a wall-mounted speaker. ¡°Mid-day break,¡± announced the droid. ¡°Reassembly in one standard hour.¡±
Everyone drifted apart¡ªsome to the mess hall, others to the cramped rooms they called home. Galen, clutching a small data pad in his hands, trudged toward his own dormitory, shoulders sagging. The entire morning had left him exhausted, more from the emotional strain than the advanced theories.
When he reached his door, a tall stormtrooper stood waiting, helmet tilted in his direction. The polished white armor caught the overhead lights in sharp reflections, but Galen recognized the trooper¡¯s stance immediately.
¡°Captain TK-421!¡± he exclaimed, voice cracking with the first genuine spark of excitement he¡¯d felt all day.
The stormtrooper relaxed slightly, lowering his weapon. ¡°Hey, kid. Been a while.¡±
Galen approached, remembering to keep his tone polite and controlled. ¡°How was your last month? Did you¡ªuh, do anything interesting?¡± He forced a hopeful smile, recalling how the staff insisted he show courtesy.
TK-421 gave a dry chuckle that echoed behind his helmet¡¯s modulator. ¡°Just training, drills, the usual. Some mind-numbing paperwork, too. Honestly, I¡¯d trade it to be in an academy like this. At least you get to learn something new every day.¡±
Galen¡¯s stomach twisted at the idea that anyone would voluntarily join this place. ¡°It¡¯s¡ tough,¡± he admitted, sparing a glance at the corridor behind them where a few troopers patrolled. ¡°And some of the kids are¡ not nice.¡±
¡°That¡¯s life, kid,¡± the captain answered. ¡°C¡¯mon. The Inquisitor¡¯s waiting on Sublevel 3.¡±
Galen nodded, following TK-421 toward a lift at the end of the hallway. The high ceilings, black walls, and constant hum of droid activity pressed in on him, fueling a familiar mix of dread and anger. Every month, the 14th Brother inspected him. Every month, Galen came away feeling more isolated than before. This time, though, a faint hope glimmered in his mind. Maybe the Inquisitor would have news of his mother¡ or at least answers as to why he had to suffer through these lessons day after day.
He stepped onto the lift, the stormtrooper close behind. As the doors slid shut, Galen stole one last glance at the sublevel he was leaving. Norzok and the others might have teased him, but at least they were fellow captives in this twisted labyrinth. On Sublevel 3, he would stand alone before the 14th Brother¡¯s scrutiny once again.
Location: Fortress Inquisitorius - Sublevel 3
I let my hand rest on the pommel of the recently collected lightsaber hilt, my gaze¡ªor what passed for it¡ªfixed on Galen. His small frame shivered slightly under the weight of the moment. I could sense the tension thrumming through him like plucked string wire. Curious to see how his last month had truly gone, I reached out with the Force, pressing gently but insistently into his mind.
Images and emotions poured through in a heated rush: cramped corridors, advanced lessons he barely understood, cruel whispers from children older than he, and the sharp reprimands of droids who cared nothing for a five-year-old¡¯s limits. A cluster of distinct faces crystallized¡ªthe boy named Norzok, who sneered and taunted at every opportunity; a Togruta girl, Tazza, who tried to help but stayed distant out of fear; that icy chill of failure overshadowing them all. I felt Galen¡¯s anger flare, mixed with profound loneliness. It twisted in my gut, renewing my own sense of fury.
For a split second, my thoughts flicked to Norzok. The name surfaced with a sting of recognition. He was the little thief I¡¯d apprehended on Malastare some time ago, brazenly boasting about his cunning. Back then, he had tried to shoot me before jumping out a window in hopes to run away, foolishly believing no one could corner him. Now he fancied himself the alpha among these recruits, bullying those weaker than him¡ªparticularly Galen. I almost laughed at the irony: he had no idea that the same Inquisitor who¡¯d hunted him on Malastare was the one standing here in the dark shell of a helmet. One day, I decided, Norzok would need a proper reality check.
I withdrew from Galen¡¯s mind, furious at more than just the children. The staff, too, had pushed the boy beyond reason¡ªadvanced coursework fit for adolescents, punishment for the smallest missteps, deliberate sabotage like cutting the power to his chronometer. It reeked of the Empire¡¯s typical disregard for anyone too young or powerless to fight back. And yet, none of that changed why we were here: to mold him, or break him, into something the Empire could use.
Galen trembled under my scrutiny, his eyes beginning to water. I brushed away my anger, burying it deep beneath the dark side¡¯s calm, and lifted my saber hilt just enough for him to notice. He steadied himself at the sight, lips pressed into a thin line.
¡°Don¡¯t worry about the others kiddo,¡± I said at last, voice distorted through my vocoder. ¡°Let them think what they want. You and I have work to do.¡±
I swapped my senses over Galen¡¯s shoulder to TK-421, who waited at the edge of the chamber with arms folded. His presence reminded me that, despite all my grievances, I wasn¡¯t entirely alone in this swirling storm of Imperial madness. Then I turned my attention fully back to Galen. The boy swallowed hard, bracing for the lesson ahead.
¡°Use this one,¡± I said, holding out the saber for him to take.
The boy took the saber from my hands, drawing it to himself with a brief flick of the Force. It was faster than he¡¯d managed in our last session, and I felt a ripple of satisfaction. I couldn¡¯t help the small smile that crossed my lips. He was improving steadily, no matter how severely the staff or the other initiates tried to push him down.
As Galen held the hilt, an echo of an old conversation rattled through my mind:
¡°The Project¡¯s overall plan is for the children to be thoroughly educated until they turn sixteen standard years old,¡± the Grand Inquisitor had said. ¡°Then, train them in the ways of the Dark Side until necessary.¡±
I recalled our meeting at the Resurgent Rancor¡ªa hole-in-the-wall bar in Coruscant¡¯s lower levels. Vader had ordered him to brief me on Project Harvester, a directive whose aims always struck me as unnerving. The Pau¡¯an leaned in over the neon-lit countertop, swirling a drink of Tryndichol and Jumma juice¡ªa potent mix that could kill a human, but merely intoxicated him.
¡°You disagree with that plan?¡± I had asked quietly, wary of eavesdroppers even in that dim, sticky-floored cantina.
¡°Who am I to contend with the words of our Emperor?¡± he retorted, his elongated features twisting into a mirthless smile. Then he sighed. ¡°Off the record, yes. It¡¯s not the same as Jedi training, and we Inquisitors aren¡¯t exactly Jedi. Plus¡ we both know why they need to be trained so late.¡±
He didn¡¯t have to elaborate. We both understood the Emperor feared anything he couldn¡¯t fully control. By delaying the age at which these children truly learned to wield the Force, he limited their ability to surpass his authority. A half-trained child might still become formidable, but only under tight oversight. As for us Inquisitors¡ªshould we ever grow too powerful, we would be no more than pawns in his game, easy enough to discard.
Back in the present, I watched Galen shift his stance, turning the saber hilt over in his hands. He studied the intricacies of its design, oblivious to the swirling machinations that had placed him here. Training him this early was in direct violation of Project Harvester¡¯s mission statement. We fed the entire fortress staff the lie that a child so strong in the Force required direct supervision. Having Darth Vader himself endorse it helped smooth things over, and we knew the Emperor¡¯s spies would inform him the moment we overstepped our bounds. So far, nothing had come of it, so we stayed the course.
Every month, I showed the boy what little I knew¡ªthough I was nowhere near as skilled as Vader or the rest. The blind leading the blind, in the truest sense. After all, how could I teach him anything when I barely survived half the battles I fought myself? The answer was surprisingly simple: physical preparation.
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¡°Feel the connection,¡± I said, resting a gloved hand on his shoulder. ¡°The crystal inside the saber¡ the energy swirling around us. It¡¯s all the same. The Force flows through every atom of this blade, through you, through me¡ªjust in different ways. I see differently than you,¡± I added, tapping the side of my helmet. ¡°But the principle remains. You sense the current, follow it, and shape it to your will.¡±
He nodded, pressing the activation switch. A brilliant blue blade ignited with a soft hum, sized for his somewhat lanky frame. He was tall for his age, all long arms and legs that didn¡¯t quite match his coordination yet.
¡°Excellent,¡± I murmured, stepping back. ¡°Now, copy what I do.¡±
I beckoned to Captain TK-421, who stood watch near the edge of the room. ¡°Captain, set your blaster for stun, if you please.¡±
TK-421 inclined his head and switched the weapon¡¯s settings. My grip on the hilt at my belt tightened slightly¡ªmemories of miscalculated training sessions flashed through my mind, but I pushed them aside. Galen needed to learn how to defend himself, even against something as small as a stun blast.
¡°Two shots at me,¡± I instructed, ¡°then two at him.¡±
Galen¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°You¡¯re going to shoot at me?¡± He glanced from the trooper to me, alarm clear in his expression. ¡°What if¡ª?¡±
He broke off when I turned, my helmet and armor coming into full view. I didn¡¯t move a muscle, but the imposing silhouette was enough to make him step back in fear. I felt a twinge of regret at intimidating him¡ªhe was just a child, after all. Letting out a quiet sigh, I reached up and twisted the seals on my helmet, lifting it free.
¡°I forget I have this thing on sometimes,¡± I said, offering him the most reassuring smile I could manage. ¡°Got so used to wearing it that I don¡¯t realize how unsettling it can be.¡±
TK-421 gave a short laugh. ¡°Trust me, sir, I feel the same. Bucket duty twenty-four-seven isn¡¯t exactly comforting.¡±
I turned my attention back to Galen, letting him see my uncovered face. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine,¡± I said softly. ¡°Trust me. I¡¯ll show you how to block or redirect the stun blasts¡ªjust follow my moves, all right?¡±
Galen swallowed, then nodded, knuckles whitening on the saber hilt. I could sense his resolve fluttering in the Force, a mix of fear and determination. It reminded me of the first time I¡¯d stood against an Imperial trooper, unsure if I¡¯d survive the encounter. I didn¡¯t just survive, I overwhelmed them. I played with them, toyed with them like they were nothing. At least the Captain has no hard feelings.
¡°Good,¡± I said. ¡°Now, let¡¯s see if you can follow my moves, okay Galen?¡±
I held the hilt of my own saber loosely and gestured for the captain to find a comfortable firing position. Galen¡¯s eyes darted between us, as though expecting the first stun blast any second.
¡°All right, kid,¡± I said softly. ¡°First rule: keep your blade angled in front of you. It¡¯s not just about blocking a bolt; it¡¯s about guiding it away. If you try to meet it head-on, you might get overpowered. Instead, you want to deflect.¡±
TK-421 raised his weapon, then paused. ¡°Should I give a countdown, sir?¡±
I rolled my shoulders, loosening tension across my back. ¡°If you like. But life rarely gives you a warning before it shoots. So, Galen¡¡± I stepped beside him and shifted his hands slightly on the hilt. ¡°Elbows relaxed, feet planted a little wider. Good. Don¡¯t lock your knees¡ªyou¡¯ll need to pivot.¡±
The boy nodded, attempting to mimic my stance. The blue blade crackled lightly in the still air. He swallowed, looking back to the captain. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m ready.¡±
TK-421 threw me a sidelong glance. ¡°You sure? I can still count it down.¡±
I smirked under my breath. ¡°Captain, have I ever told you that you¡¯re too chatty for an Imperial trooper?¡±
He chuckled. ¡°I figure I have to make up for a certain someone¡¯s stoic attitude.¡±
¡°Stoic?¡± I lifted an eyebrow. ¡°If I recall, your last training session involved you shouting expletives the entire time you fired at me.¡±
TK-421 let out a bark of laughter. ¡°That¡¯s because you dragged me out of bed at oh-four-hundred, sir!¡±
¡°Sorry I couldn¡¯t sleep and the training droids don¡¯t exactly make for great conversation.¡± I shook my head and turned my focus back to Galen. ¡°Ignore us, kid. Now, get ready. Captain, two stun bolts, aim for me first.¡±
The trooper shifted stance, leveled his blaster, and fired. I instinctively lifted my saber, nudging the bolts aside in quick, fluid arcs. They sparked against the chamber walls, fizzling out harmlessly. Galen gasped, wide-eyed, but I offered him a small nod of confidence.
¡°Your turn,¡± I said, stepping back. ¡°Remember: tilt the blade, don¡¯t meet it straight on.¡±
Galen tensed, tiny beads of sweat forming at his hairline. TK-421 obliged, aiming the blaster at the boy. Without warning, he fired two blasts in rapid succession. Galen lifted the saber a fraction too late for the first¡ªmanaging only a partial deflection that grazed his shoulder. He yelped, staggering from the sting but not truly harmed. The second bolt he knocked aside more cleanly, sending it sizzling into the ceiling.
¡°Nice recovery,¡± I said quickly, putting a hand on Galen¡¯s back to steady him. ¡°See? You learn fast. Now, let¡¯s correct your timing.¡± I moved his elbow a fraction higher. ¡°You have to anticipate the shot, feel the Captain¡¯s intent through the Force. React before he actually pulls the trigger.¡±
TK-421 lowered his weapon. ¡°You all right, kid?¡±
Galen blinked a few times, rubbing his shoulder. ¡°It¡ªit burned a little.¡±
¡°Stun¡¯s not fun,¡± the captain said with a rueful shrug. ¡°But hey, you did better than I expected.¡±
The boy looked down, obviously trying to hide an embarrassed flush. ¡°Thanks¡ I guess.¡±
I lifted my own saber hilt again. ¡°Let¡¯s go again. This time, I¡¯ll demonstrate the block side-by-side with you.¡± I offered a brief nod to TK-421. ¡°Captain, do me a favor and try to be a bit¡ unpredictable.¡±
He grinned behind his helmet, and I could almost picture the smug look on his face. ¡°You want unpredictable, sir? You got it.¡±
Turning back to Galen, I summoned an encouraging tone. ¡°Breathe. Focus on the tingle in the air¡ªthe disturbance just before a shot fires. Trust your instincts more than your eyes.¡±
Galen¡¯s grip tightened, and for a moment, I sensed the flicker of resolve in him.
I felt the tension building in the training chamber as we kept going. Galen was determined to prove he could handle more than just a few stray stun bolts. His stance wavered less each time; he was quickening, reacting more in tune with the Force. Through my heightened senses, I perceived the flickers of his presence growing sharper, like a blade being forged.
¡°Again,¡± I instructed the Captain. ¡°Try a different angle.¡±
TK-421 nodded, switching from a standard two-handed posture to a more off-center stance. I knew that meant he¡¯d angle the shots in a way Galen wouldn¡¯t fully anticipate. The boy tightened his grip, eyes darting between the trooper¡¯s movements and my own.
He managed to deflect the first shot with a slight upward tilt of the blade. The second, however, seared just past his hilt guard, leaving a burn mark on his training tunic. Galen cried out but held his ground, sweat trickling down his temple. I forced a thin smile of encouragement he couldn¡¯t see through my helmet, then realized I¡¯d already taken it off earlier; old habits die hard.
¡°Good,¡± I said. ¡°Focus. Don¡¯t let the sting break your concentration¡ªlet it sharpen you.¡±
The boy gritted his teeth, giving a shaky nod. TK-421, for all his joking earlier, appeared uneasy firing on a child, even with a stun setting. Still, he did as ordered. Another pair of blasts came in rapid succession. Galen blocked the first, knocked aside the second, and then¡
He crumpled. It was as though the strain of the past several volleys and his own adrenaline crash caught up with him at once. I sensed his aura flicker like a guttering flame in the Force. With a dull thud, he collapsed to the metal flooring, the saber tumbling from his grip.
¡°Kid!¡± the Captain exclaimed, rushing over. ¡°Are you¡ª?¡±
He checked for a pulse, carefully lifting Galen¡¯s wrist. I could see the relief ripple off him when he realized the boy was merely unconscious.
I sighed, forcing myself not to dwell on pity. ¡°His training could be much, much harsher,¡± I said, voice colder than I intended. My mind wandered to thoughts of an alternate timeline¡ªone where Galen had been raised in a cage, with droids trying to kill him at every turn. If Vader alone had found him, that might have been his everyday reality. The child didn¡¯t know how lucky he was that I hadn¡¯t stooped to that approach. Not yet, anyway.
TK-421 glanced at me, guilt written all over his stance. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir. I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡±
I waved him off. ¡°Don¡¯t apologize. If he wants to survive what¡¯s coming, he¡¯ll need to handle worse than a few stun bolts.¡± I looked down at Galen¡¯s limp form, sensing the slow rhythm of his breathing, the faint echo of peace that had eluded him for so long. This quiet moment might be a small mercy he desperately needed.
Beneath my calm exterior, my mind churned with the knowledge that we were upsetting the Emperor¡¯s carefully crafted plans. Training Galen at this age clashed with the entire premise of Project Harvester, but I needed him to be ready for the worst. He was my first real gamble in this twisted new fate. All I could do was keep going.
Suddenly, I felt the approach of another presence. My non-visual senses picked up on the tall, angular frame of a Pau¡¯an coming down the corridor¡ªa presence that commanded the same hush as a gathering storm. The doors to the chamber slid apart, and the Grand Inquisitor stepped inside, sparing only a dismissive glance at Galen¡¯s unconscious form.
¡°You have new orders,¡± he said brusquely. ¡°Come.¡±
His tone told me nothing, but the tension curling in the Force around him spoke volumes. Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel, clearly expecting obedience. I exhaled, gesturing to TK-421.
¡°Take Galen back to his dorm,¡± I said. ¡°Let the instructors know he has the rest of the day off.¡±
My mind flickered to the inevitable backlash this ¡°special treatment¡± would stir among the other initiates, but I couldn¡¯t help it now. The Captain bent down, scooping the boy¡¯s limp body over one armored shoulder and retrieving the lightsaber. With a curt nod, he set off for the elevator. I followed the Grand Inquisitor, the boy¡¯s labored breathing lingering in my awareness until the doors sealed behind us.
We rode a different turbolift this time, one that ascended far above Sublevel 3 toward the fortress¡¯s upper sectors. The Grand Inquisitor remained silent, but the roil of apprehension under his normally stoic aura intrigued me. Something was off.
I finally broke the silence, my voice subdued. ¡°So these orders¡ what¡¯s happening?¡±
He didn¡¯t turn, but I felt the flicker of unease he tried to suppress. ¡°I do not know,¡± he admitted in a low murmur.
That alone sent a prickle of alarm down my spine. The Grand Inquisitor was rarely kept out of the loop. The turbolift opened onto a bustling floor alive with comm chatter and the whir of droids. Through the Force, I perceived a tapestry of frantic activity: Imperial operators at their console pits, droids shuffling data logs, officers snapping to attention as we passed. We headed down a short corridor, walls lined with blinking control panels and muffled conversations.
At last, we came to a small, unassuming comm room¡ªseparate from the main cluster of consoles. The Grand Inquisitor opened the door and stepped aside, letting me enter first.
¡°I will be here, Brother,¡± he said, stopping at the threshold. His tone held something akin to sympathy, though I doubted he¡¯d ever admit it openly.
A railed walkway stretched ahead, leading to a raised central holoprojector. My heart thudded a little harder, and not from physical exertion. I approached slowly, the device humming to life at my proximity. My Force senses recoiled as I felt the presence at the other end of the transmission¡ªlike a great shadow blotting out the light.
¡°Fourteenth Brother,¡± a low, rasping voice intoned. The Emperor. Immediately, I dropped to one knee, bowing my head in a display of submission that made my stomach twist. If he sensed my true contempt, I was finished, so I buried it deep.
¡°I do not abide failure,¡± he continued, a barely perceptible sneer in his tone. ¡°One of your kin has faltered in her mission to locate an enemy of ours.¡±
Confusion flashed through me. So this wasn¡¯t about Galen. ¡°What is¡ what is thy bidding, my Master?¡± I said, forcing the words out. The question tasted bitter. I¡¯d convinced myself I was about to be judged for training the boy too early. Instead, the Emperor had other business.
A faint, malevolent joy seeped through the hologram, warping the ancient features. ¡°The Seventh Sister will provide you with her findings. Use your power and find this elusive rebel for me, my faithful servant.¡±
Rebel? I tried to keep my voice steady. ¡°Do we have a name, my Lord?¡±
A cold sensation rippled through me at the Emperor¡¯s final word:
¡°Only one: Fulcrum.¡±
The name reverberated in my mind, raising a whirlwind of memories I had no right to possess in this reality. Ahsoka Tano¡ªAnakin Skywalker¡¯s Padawan, a plucky, fiercely determined young Jedi who had grown into something far stronger than the Order ever expected. Now, under the codename Fulcrum, she was a thorn in the Empire¡¯s side. And here I stood, condemned to hunt her down.
I couldn¡¯t hide the jolt of recognition that tore through me, but I could bury it behind the cool mask of subservience. The Emperor looked pleased¡ªfar too pleased. In the Force, I sensed that smug undercurrent. He wanted me out of the way, sent off on a mission with a high likelihood of failure or death. That, in turn, would free Galen from my influence¡ªletting the Empire mold the boy into whatever monstrous tool it needed.
I forced myself to bow low, voice wavering despite my efforts. ¡°Yes, my Master. I will not fail.¡±
The disfigured visage twisted into a mockery of a grin. Then the holo-image winked out, and the room seemed emptier for it. The Grand Inquisitor lingered at the threshold behind me, silent but keenly observing. He must have felt the tremor of my fear. Yet he said nothing.
The knowledge that the Emperor practically expected me to die on this mission roiled in my gut. If I were gone, no more monthly check-ins with Galen¡ªno awkward father-figure role I¡¯d inadvertently taken on. Vader or the Emperor themselves would claim him. He¡¯d become the ultimate weapon, his raw power carefully molded and twisted. Maybe that was Palpatine¡¯s plan all along: rid the board of me, sever the child¡¯s only tie to some form of humanity, and shape Galen into something unstoppable.
As I stepped away from the holoprojector, my mind wrestled with the weight of what lay ahead. Ahsoka Tano. I knew her story intimately¡ªan impossible advantage from a life I barely understood anymore. She¡¯d faced down Inquisitors before, fought and nearly killed Maul, and survived all these years. If I pursued her, I might be the one cornered instead. The Emperor counted on that. He wanted me on the hunt, suspecting I could be outmatched.
I turned to go out the door, the sting of betrayal gnawing at the back of my throat. Galen¡¯s unconscious form flashed across my thoughts¡ªthe half-trained child lying helpless in a fortress of enemies. If I left him now, who would protect him from the staff¡¯s cruelty, from the older initiates¡¯ bullying, from Vader¡¯s manipulations?
The corridor outside bustled with comm officers, protocol droids, and coded transmissions echoing in my Force perception. I struggled to maintain composure. This was a trap. I was sure of it. Yet I had no choice but to play along, or risk drawing Palpatine¡¯s wrath on Galen immediately.
As we neared the turbolift, the Grand Inquisitor paused, his tall frame casting a long shadow. For a moment, I thought he might say something¡ªperhaps offer a sliver of insight. But then he merely gestured for me to step inside.
We rode the lift in silence, tension thick in the air. My senses traced the labyrinth of corridors behind us, searching futilely for a glimpse of the boy. But I could only feel distant echoes of his presence, faint and fragile.
I will do my duty, I told myself, heart pounding. But Fulcrum is no ordinary foe. And Palpatine feels it. Every shred of my being wanted to warn her somehow, to take Galen, to run and never look back. But that would be treason, and the Emperor would sense even the slightest slip.
The doors hissed open, revealing the bustle of a higher-level communications nexus. Somewhere out there, Seventh Sister had tried to find Fulcrum¡ªand failed. Now it fell to me to either complete the mission or perish. Meanwhile, Galen would be left at the mercy of this fortress and Vader¡¯s schemes.
As we moved on toward whatever briefing awaited, I swallowed back my dread and steeled myself, letting the cold, muted anger of the dark side steady my nerves. One thing was clear: I was on borrowed time. And if I wanted any chance of returning to watch over Galen, I¡¯d have to succeed where others had failed¡ªno matter the cost.
Yet even as I thought it, my old memories of Ahsoka¡ªof who she¡¯d become¡ªflickered in my mind. Run fast, Tano, I pleaded silently. Run and hide. Because, for better or worse, I was coming. And everything in me said that only one of us would walk away from this confrontation unscathed. I just had to hunt her down first.
Chapter 18: Starting the Hunt
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 18: Starting the Hunt
¡°Destiny is merely the conduit of our will.¡±
Date: 6BBY
Location: Fortress Inquisitorious - Comm Hub 1C
The turbolift hummed with oppressive silence as I stood beside the Grand Inquisitor, my mind still reeling from the Emperor¡¯s summons. I wanted to ask a thousand questions, but the words choked in my throat, pressed down by the sheer suffocating tension in the air. Finally, the Pau¡¯an broke the silence.
¡°Seventh Sister is in the medical bay,¡± he said, voice betraying no hint of concern. ¡°Her injuries are extensive.¡±
¡°What happened?¡± I asked, my question tight with apprehension. Then I allowed my irritation to bubble up. Without thinking, I reached out through the Force and stopped the lift mid-descent, the floor jolting us both. ¡°Why the kriff didn¡¯t you warn me that I was about to get orders from the Emperor directly? Face to sorta face?¡±
He offered no apology, just a level stare. ¡°I don¡¯t need to explain myself to you. And if you¡¯re truly worthy of this investigation, you should require no forewarning.¡±
My anger simmered, but I didn¡¯t ignite the next retort I felt forming. Instead, I took a calming breath, letting the darkness of my frustration swirl inside me like a storm I refused to unleash. The Grand Inquisitor continued, unperturbed.
¡°I hope this mission of yours proves fruitful,¡± he said. ¡°Originally, I was assigned the task, but I proposed that you take it instead.¡±
Surprise, then immediate suspicion. I narrowed my eyes. ¡°Why?¡±
¡°A better use of your unique talents than wasting them on some backwater brat. The Jedi are dwindling, and we can only do so much training. Our tasks are shifting. The Empire¡¯s real threat is these wretched rebels multiplying by the day.¡±
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. ¡°I wonder why.¡±
He fixed me with a long, chilly stare. ¡°I will ignore your treasonous words only in the hopes that you succeed where Katari failed.¡± Before I could respond, he eased the turbolift back into motion with a controlled flick of his long fingers. The turbolift¡¯s ambient hum resumed, carrying us downward once more.
We soon arrived at a lower level adjacent to the medical facilities. The doors hissed open, and I stepped out into the corridor. I reached out with my senses and felt the faint flicker of life that once was Katari Naju. The Seventh Sisters presence was weak, flickering like a candle in a storm. I followed the Grand Inquisitor¡¯s lead toward the med bay.
A medical droid hovered near her bed, injecting something into her arm as a cluster of monitors beeped softly. Through my heightened perception, I could sense the severity of her injuries¡ªburns, broken bones, a concussion. It would be weeks before she recovered enough to hold her sabers without trembling.
I wasted no time, stepping forward with arms folded. ¡°Where¡¯s the intel, Sister? I¡¯ve got a job to do.¡±
She feigned a wounded expression. ¡°You don¡¯t even ask how I¡¯m feeling, you savage?¡± Her voice dripped with mock hurt.
I gave her a flat look, saying nothing. In truth, if it were me lying there, she¡¯d offer no courtesies either. After a moment of pregnant silence, she sighed and gestured to one of her miniature probe droids perched at the foot of the bed. The small sleek droid floated over to me, carrying a data cylinder in a magnetic clamp.
¡°Data cylinder, ZT4,¡± she said. ¡°Encrypted transfer. No transmissions to trace.¡±
I removed an empty, matching cylinder from my belt, swapped it with the droid, and locked the new one in place. The entire exchange was as sterile and unfeeling as the medical bay¡¯s bright overhead lights.
¡°Thanks,¡± I said, keeping my tone clipped. Then I allowed curiosity to edge into my voice. ¡°So¡ what happened to land you here?¡±
Her face darkened. ¡°Black market dealer tried to double-cross me. Didn¡¯t realize who they were dealing with.¡±
¡°Sloppy,¡± I muttered, unable to resist the jab.
¡°It was the only tangible lead I had,¡± she shot back. ¡°And now it¡¯s gone.¡±
I arched an eyebrow. ¡°Gone?¡±
¡°They¡¯re dead. Suicide for their precious ¡®cause.¡¯¡± She spat the last word.
¡°Oh,¡± I said quietly, absorbing the implications. Then I shrugged, aware of how callous it must seem. ¡°Well¡ I¡¯ll be on my way.¡±
She eased herself up in bed, wincing. ¡°Next time, you¡¯ll be even quieter. Probably dead too.¡±
I didn¡¯t offer a comeback; the door sealed behind me, and I made my way back to the turbolift. My first instinct was to head for Sublevel 2 and see Galen one last time, but the intel in my hand could be time-sensitive. Any delay might forfeit the only lead we had on Fulcrum. Ahsoka Tano¡ That name still pricked at my mind, conjuring half-remembered images of Anakin¡¯s student in another lifetime.
I inhaled sharply, guilt gnawing at me. Leaving the boy behind felt like a betrayal, but I had no choice. The Emperor, the big bad Sith Lord, had mandated this hunt. I¡¯ll have to trust Galen to take care of himself, I told myself.
Stepping into the turbolift, I keyed the control panel for the upper hangars. As the lift began its ascent, I cast one last glance at the corridor behind me, the place where I¡¯d parted ways with the Grand Inquisitor just moments ago. I felt a tightness in my chest, an ache that wasn¡¯t purely physical. No matter how well I performed, the Emperor already expected me to fail, leaving Galen free to be molded by Vader¡¯s iron hand. The notion stirred my fury.
I squeezed the data cylinder in my hand, letting my anger fuel my resolve. If I have to chase Fulcrum, I¡¯ll do it on my terms¡ªwin or lose. And if that means returning to the Fortress alive, I damn well will.
At last, the turbolift shuddered to a stop at the designated floor. The doors slid open, revealing a corridor bustling with flight crews and security droids. My hunt was about to begin, and all I could do was hope that the boy I¡¯d left behind would still be there when I returned.
Location: The Scythe - Nur Orbit
We skimmed the upper atmosphere of Nur, engines thrumming as the Scythe broke free from the moon¡¯s gravity. Gray storm clouds and distant fortress spires shrank behind us, swallowed by the blackness of space. Captain TK-421 sat at the ship¡¯s controls, guiding us away from the security perimeter while I remained in the co-pilot¡¯s seat, arms folded. The entire craft vibrated with pent-up energy, ready for a jump to hyperspace once we cleared the system.
¡°Sir,¡± TK began, glancing at the holo-projector between us. A faint glow reflected off his armor. ¡°Allow me read you the details on the Sister¡¯s leads.¡±
I couldn¡¯t read the text, of course, but I could still perceive the flicker of the device through the Force¡ªa blur of radiating energy that told me something was there, if not its contents. ¡°Go on,¡± I said curtly.
He tapped a console. ¡°First up, there¡¯s a rumor of an active rebel cell on a planet in the Mid Rim. Place called Omereth. Supposedly, they¡¯ve been hoarding arms and refurbished starfighters¡ªenough that local Imperial patrols have noticed missing shipments. The Sister believed they might be receiving direction from Fulcrum.¡±
I listened, letting the name Omereth etch itself into my memory. Mid Rim, not too far from a major hyperlane. Easy way to move the product around, and get reinforcements. ¡°How reliable is that intel?¡± I asked.
¡°Sparse,¡± TK admitted, ¡°but the Sister¡¯s logs mention multiple confiscations of black-market proton related weaponry on Omereth. If Fulcrum¡¯s helping them, she might have left traces.¡±
He slid a finger across the panel, no doubt pulling up the next lead. ¡°Then there¡¯s a pirate gang operating near the outer edges of the Taspar Sector. They¡¯ve been buying large quantities of starship hull plating, shield generators, and engine components¡ªstuff you¡¯d expect from someone building or refitting a small fleet. The Sister suspected these pirates might be working for some rebel groups indirectly.¡±
My lips tightened. ¡°Or they just want more destructive power for themselves. Pirates rarely have higher ideals.¡±
¡°Exactly,¡± TK said, exhaling. ¡°Still, if Fulcrum¡¯s funneling parts to them, they could be a stepping stone. The Sister¡¯s droids turned up a few shady transactions in that region.¡±
He paused before the final piece. I felt his hesitation like a ripple in the Force. ¡°And the last lead is¡ well, more of a set of partial references to a remote moon out in the Outer Rim. The name never shows up in the standard Imperial databases, which suggests it¡¯s uncharted or has been intentionally scrubbed. The Sister saw the term ¡®Fulcrum¡¯ pop up in a short-range comm exchange, but no specifics. Could be an enclave. Could be a hideout.¡±
I let the thought settle, trying to envision these three options in my mind. Omereth and its rumored rebel cell. Pirate scum in the Taspar Sector. And a nameless moon far off in the Outer Rim. Three distinct possibilities, each one a potential waste of time or a goldmine of information on Fulcrum.
¡°Pirates might be a diversion,¡± I mused. ¡°The rebel cell is at least an organized threat, but that also means we¡¯ll face stronger opposition.¡± My fingers drummed against the armrest. ¡°And the third¡ well, if something¡¯s been wiped from the records, it¡¯s probably significant.¡±
TK grunted in agreement, pressing a sequence of buttons. ¡°Right. So we¡¯ve gotta pick one. The Sister mentioned all three as potential leads.¡±
I sensed the swirl of frustration in him. We were chasing phantoms, trying to find a shadow codenamed Fulcrum in a galaxy full of shadows. ¡°Look,¡± I said, ¡°I suggest we ignore the pirates for now, or at least push them down the list. If they¡¯re just hunting credits, they won¡¯t be the biggest piece in this puzzle. And Omereth¡ that might be a fortress in disguise.¡±
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
TK paused as if studying me. ¡°Then that leaves the moon with hardly any data. That¡¯s your plan?¡±
I shrugged. ¡°Might be the best chance at discovering something unexpected. If there¡¯s too little info for Sister¡¯s droids, it means it might be hidden on purpose.¡±
¡°Alright,¡± he said, turning back to the console. ¡°We¡¯ll make for that unknown moon. Sending a quick notice to any nearby Imperial outposts, letting them know we¡¯ll be operating in that sector. They probably won¡¯t help much, but it¡¯s procedure.¡±
A faint beep indicated we were clear of Nur¡¯s gravity. The starlit void outside our cockpit stretched into the distance, giving us an open corridor to jump.
¡°It¡¯ll take a bit of time to get there,¡± TK remarked, double-checking the coordinates. ¡°We¡¯ll need to swing around a few gravitational obstacles. Probably a couple hours, maybe more.¡±
With a soft sigh, he eased off the steering yolk. Autopilot would take over until we spooled for hyperspace. ¡°Anything you want to handle in the meantime, sir?¡±
I hesitated, then let the question that had been rattling around in my mind come forth. ¡°What¡ an unofficial opinion on Galen. You¡¯ve been there every time I visited him. Think he has what it takes?¡±
TK¡¯s posture shifted; a heavy silence stretched for a beat or two. ¡°Just take the boy and run, Alonzo,¡± he said, voice edged with regret. ¡°We¡¯ve joked about it. I see how you care about him.¡±
Those words hit me harder than I¡¯d expected. I tried to brush it off. ¡°There¡¯s a bond, sure, but it¡¯s not like that. I don¡¯t care about Galen¡ª¡± My throat tightened. The truth felt more complicated. ¡°Not the way you might think. I¡¯m forced to keep him safe because no one else will.¡±
TK nodded. ¡°You don¡¯t want him to end up like you.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t want him to end up dead. The poor boy could be so much more.¡± The instant those words escaped my mouth, Shaak Ti¡¯s final plea to Galen rang in my head. That memory belonged to another life¡ªanother universe, even¡ªbut it still stung. And in a flash, I recalled Felucia, an isolated jungle world of wild Force energies. If we needed it¡ we could use Felucia.
TK cocked his head, eyebrows knitting in concern. ¡°You just stopped mid-sentence. Something up?¡±
I forced a casual shrug, rubbing the back of my neck. ¡°Nah, just a thought.¡±
¡°Dangerous, those are,¡± he teased, the corners of his mouth curling in a faint grin.
I smirked, letting a flicker of amusement lighten my features. ¡°Alright, Yoda.¡±
¡°What the hell is a Yoda?¡± he shot back, the confusion in his tone drawing a sudden laugh from me. The unexpected levity eased some of the tension in the cockpit, if only for a moment.
In the quiet that followed, I let my Force senses drift, feeling the swirl of possibility around us. Fulcrum was out there. She might have connections to that nameless moon, or the rebels, or the pirates, or all three. Meanwhile, Galen remained behind on Nur, alone in a place that sought to twist him into a weapon. And the Emperor¡ the Emperor wanted me out of the picture, I was sure of it.
TK started the countdown to hyperspace. I braced myself, letting out a slow breath. ¡°Alright,¡± I said quietly. ¡°Let¡¯s get it.¡±
The stars in front of us stretched into brilliant lines. The Scythe rumbled, and we leapt forward into the unknown.
Location: Ydran System - J23R
We broke through a thin cloud layer, descending toward the nameless moon¡¯s surface. I couldn¡¯t see the rolling vistas with my nonexistent eyes, but I felt it all the same through the Force: a sprawl of rusted metal shapes, a huddle of mismatched life signs. Captain TK-421 tapped the scanners, verifying my suspicions.
¡°Looks like we¡¯ve got an entire settlement down there, built around a large CIS bunker,¡± he said, guiding the Scythe over a ridge. ¡°There¡¯s what remains of an airfield, too, probably scrapped for parts. And I¡¯m picking up multiple energy signatures¡ªdroids and people. Probably expect the worst.¡±
¡°Always do,¡± I muttered, bracing myself as we set the ship down on a patchwork landing platform. The place felt like it had been hammered together from corroded hull panels¡ªan improvised airfield that might have once serviced Confederate gunships.
The moment we touched down, the Force bristled with tension. Outside, I sensed a small crowd gathering. The ramp hissed open, and the acrid stench of old oil and desert-like dust hit me. I descended first, feeling TK keep pace behind me.
A handful of B1 battle droids stood in a half-circle, rifles aimed our way. Two battered B2 super battle droids flanked them, hulking masses of durasteel with mismatched plating. One of the B1s let out a tinny chuckle as I approached.
¡°Look what we¡¯ve got here,¡± it droned, voice crackling. ¡°A Jedi, maybe. Didn¡¯t expect it to be so easy to capture.¡±
Its companion chimed in, ¡°Yeah, roger-roger. No fancy sabers¡ªhe¡¯s not even fighting back.¡±
I bit down a growl of annoyance, but TK gave me a subtle warning touch on the arm. It was true: no sense provoking them¡ªyet. Behind the droids stood a group of armed sentries, mostly humans and near-humans dressed in ragged clothes. Their eyes glimmered with a mix of anger and fear.
A tall Nemoidian stepped forward, the folds of his tattered cloak swaying in the stale breeze. ¡°Granuuk Bitoor,¡± he proclaimed. ¡°Governor of this refuge, such as it is.¡± Without warning, he yanked a vibro-knife from his belt and pressed it against my neck. The hum of the blade¡¯s ultrasonic edge buzzed dangerously near my skin.
¡°Give me one good reason,¡± he growled, ¡°I shouldn¡¯t slit your throat for trespassing here.¡±
TK tensed, hand inching toward his blaster. A few of the onlookers raised their weapons. The B2s whined, powering up their cannons.
I felt a flare of anger rise within me, yet I kept my tone calm. ¡°Because I¡¯m here on behalf of the Emperor himself,¡± I said. ¡°Tasked with rooting out a rebel threat that may have paid you a visit. You kill me, the Empire learns of this place, and they¡¯ll send a thousand more in my stead.¡±
Bitoor¡¯s blade didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Your word means nothing. Imperial types have threatened us before. We are done bending to your kind.¡±
He slid the tip of the vibro-knife a fraction closer, enough for me to feel the heat of its vibration. Behind him, one of the B1 droids cackled, ¡°Oh, sir, sir! Can I kill the Jedi?!¡±
I exhaled and slowly lifted my hands, letting the Force brush through the crowd to sense their collective unease. ¡°We have no reason to kill you,¡± I repeated quietly. ¡°Unless you make one. But as you can see,¡±¡ªI carefully reached for the lightsaber on my back¡ª¡°I¡¯m willing to negotiate.¡± I tossed it to the ground at his feet, along with the backup on my belt.
TK followed suit, carefully removing his blaster and setting it aside. The Nemoidian studied us both, knife still poised at my throat. After a tense moment, he relented, stepping back. I felt the blade draw away from my skin.
¡°Fine,¡± he spat. ¡°You¡¯ll speak with me inside.¡± He snapped his fingers at the B2s. ¡°Confiscate their weapons.¡±
A pair of ragged human sentries hurried forward, snatching up our gear. I clenched my fists, annoyed but mindful this was better than having them open fire.
Bitoor beckoned us through a gate fashioned from old Separatist armor plating. Inside the walls, I sensed the sprawl of a makeshift town: salvaged ship engines used as generator pods, tattered tents clustered along cracked duracrete, and a labyrinth of bunkers repurposed into homes. The remnants of the airfield stretched in the distance, runways littered with the rusted shells of fighters long cannibalized for parts.
Families skulked around corners, eyeing us warily. Many were alien species once loyal to the Confederacy¡ªNeimoidians, Muuns, and even a few Humans. I heard whispers of fear, caught glimpses of children clinging to their parents. The entire settlement reeked of desperation and quiet hostility.
We were led into a central command building that had likely been the base¡¯s nerve center. Cracked CIS insignias still adorned the walls, painted over with defaced Imperial symbols. Bitoor shoved the door open, guiding us into a dimly lit chamber filled with half-functioning consoles and flickering screens.
He tossed the vibro-knife onto a metal table with a clatter, then faced me. ¡°Now. Tell me why you¡¯re here. And do it quick.¡± The anger radiating off him was palpable, but beneath it, I sensed fear. Perfect for me to exploit.
¡°I¡¯m tracking someone called ¡®Fulcrum,¡¯¡± I said. ¡°Word is, you might have had dealings with them.¡±
Bitoor laughed bitterly. ¡°You call it dealing. I call it survival. We trade leftover technology from this¡ª¡± He waved a hand around at the bunker. ¡°¡ªwith those who pay well. And yes, one of them uses that name. What¡¯s it to you?¡±
Captain 421 squared his shoulders, carefully stepping forward. ¡°Fulcrum is a known Rebel agent. We have reason to believe they¡¯re supporting insurgent cells. My friend here is assigned to locate them. Permanently.¡±
Bitoor glared. ¡°We have no interest in your Imperial squabbles. The rest of the galaxy might as well be a thousand parsecs away.¡±
I let out a slow breath. ¡°Nonetheless, you¡¯re caught in it now.¡± My voice dropped to a low, dangerous register. ¡°If I don¡¯t find Fulcrum, the Emperor will wonder why. He¡¯ll send an entire fleet here, raze you to the ground, and take what he needs.¡±
¡°Give me a reason to trust you,¡± Bitoor hissed.
I offered him a cold smile. ¡°Because I¡¯m giving you a chance to cooperate. That¡¯s better than the next Inquisitor who¡¯d come knocking.¡± I let my words hover, the implied threat crystal clear. ¡°So¡ what can you tell me?¡±
He wavered, then snarled. ¡°We¡¯ve sent shipments of old experimental weapon parts at Fulcrum¡¯s request. They give us credits or supplies. That¡¯s how we keep this place alive.¡±
¡°How frequently?¡± I pressed, sensing he was already lying or minimizing the truth.
¡°Every few months,¡± he said, trying to sound nonchalant. I felt his fear subside, replaced by forced composure. He hoped I believed him.
TK glanced at me, then spoke gently, ¡°Look, we just want to find this informant. Not kill them. That¡¯s not our job, right?¡±
I gave him a curt nod. ¡°Right. We just need a way to track them. Any clue helps, and we can make it worth your while.¡±
Bitoor hesitated, then sighed. ¡°Fine. Come.¡± He gestured for us to follow him through a side door leading into a reinforced bunker tunnel. Guards and droids shadowed our every move, making sure we didn¡¯t try anything.
We ended up at a rickety turbolift that descended into the moon¡¯s crust. Old warning signs in the CIS language lined the shaft. The place smelled of rust and stale air. As the lift descended, I felt a flicker of unease in the Force¡ªsomething about the Governor¡¯s quiet smugness put me on edge.
Sure enough, when we reached the bottom, a heavy corridor stretched ahead, walls dripping with condensation. Flickering lights cast uneven shadows on broken paneling. Bitoor moved forward, beckoning us deeper.
Suddenly, the Force screamed a warning. ¡°TK!¡± I shouted, but a fraction too late. A ray shield crackled to life around me, forming a shimmering column that pinned me in place. TK stumbled aside, narrowly missing being trapped himself. I whirled to see Bitoor racing back to the turbolift, a triumphant grin on his gaunt face.
I lashed out through the Force, gripping his throat from across the corridor, but paused when I sensed something else clanking on the far side of the hallway. Droidekas. At least two, rolling up to positions and unfurling with lethal grace. Their shields snapped on, presenting glowing blue domes of energy.
TK scrambled to his feet, cursing under his breath. ¡°Looking for a control panel¡ªhang tight.¡±
¡°I knew we should¡¯ve come in blasting,¡± I muttered darkly, scanning for any break in the shield¡¯s perimeter. ¡°Fuck this place.¡±
¡°Sir, these doors are sealed, and I¡¯m not seeing any controls!¡± TK hollered back, pressing frantically at a dead console. The droidekas spun their twin blasters forward, the whine of power building ominously.
Then they fired, unleashing a barrage of stun bolts. TK yelped as the rings slammed into him, sending him sprawling hard against the wall. He crumpled without so much as a gasp. My jaw clenched in fury, the swirling energy of the dark side straining inside me, but the ray shield¡¯s hum kept me pinned like an insect.
Outside, the clang of the turbolift door sealed with a final echo, leaving me trapped with a pair of not-so killer droids and an unconscious trooper. I felt my anger ignite, resonating in the enclosed space. Bitoor was going to regret this betrayal¡ªif I found a way out alive.
The chances of that grew slimmer when a voice all too familiar rung out from the comm speakers of the underground facility.
¡°Mocking Greeting: Welcome to my humble domicile, meatbag. I sincerely hope you provide a brief spark of amusement before your inevitable demise.¡±
HK, I grimly smile to myself. I should have fucking known.
Chapter 19: The Hunted
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 19: The Hunted
"Definition: ''Love'' is making a shot to the knees of a target 120 kilometres away using an Aratech sniper rifle with a tri-light scope.¡±
Location: J23R - Experimental Weapons Bunker L45V
The moment the ray shield collapsed, the two droidekas attacked, weapons blazing¡ªand I had no lightsaber to speak of.
Blaster bolts whipped past, forcing me to hurl myself behind a portion of the wall paneling that had buckled loose. ¡°Goddamned droids!¡± I muttered, dragging up a sheet of twisted metal as makeshift cover. It barely absorbed a barrage of searing bolts, each impact rattling my teeth.
HK-47¡¯s metallic snicker slithered across the corridor¡¯s loudspeakers.
¡°Mocking Encouragement: Do stand still, meatbag. My dear droidekas detest chasing vermin about the floor.¡±
I spared a glare at the overhead sensor node, certain the murderous droid was watching. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ll have our chat soon enough.¡±
¡°Smug Inquiry: A personal visit? How deliciously optimistic!¡±
A flurry of red blasts chewed at my panel, leaving it half-melted. I shoved my anger down, letting the dark side fill the edges of my senses. The nearest droideka advanced, shield shimmering. With a snarl, I yanked a chunk of plating from behind me, pitching it forward¡ªbut the droideka¡¯s shield flared, deflecting it aside. Stronger shields than I anticipated, I realized. No matter. I¡¯d need another tactic.
One droideka flanked to my left, weapons thundering. I dived, letting the Force guide me to a battered B1 chasis partially lodged against the wall. Its arm joint was free. Perfect. I stretched out a hand; the severed arm tore loose, streaking through the air as if flung by an invisible sling. It smashed against the droideka¡¯s shield with a crackle. I could sense the energy wavering. Stronger shields but limited, I noted.
¡°Agitated Query: Why would you fling an arm at my adopted children? You truly are unhinged, meatbag!¡±
I grinned through clenched teeth, dashing from cover to cover as more bolts scorched the walls. ¡°Just testing your defenses.¡± With a gesture, I ripped a second B1¡¯s limb free and hurled it at the droideka¡¯s generator node. The shield flickered but held¡ªenough of a momentary flicker for me to slip behind the droid. A swift telekinetic shove cracked its repulsor alignment, flipping it sideways in a shower of sparks. Its partner tried to swivel, but I was already lunging across the corridor, launching a battered wall panel at it with my free hand.
The second droideka¡¯s shield buckled for only a microsecond¡ªjust enough time for me to fling myself in range. I pumped raw Force energy into a concussive blast against its metallic body, bashing it into the floor. Shields died, cannons fizzled, and the droid collapsed into a smoking wreck.
Panting, I leaned against the corridor¡¯s battered frame. Behind me, TK-421 was still out cold, stunned earlier. The overhead intercom crackled again.
¡°Chiding Declaration: My glorious droidekas have failed to reduce you to red paste. You do surprise me.¡±
¡°Get used to it,¡± I snarled, stepping over the broken chassis and pressing deeper into the bunker¡¯s bowels. ¡°Next time, send droids that can hit a blind man.¡±
Barely two corridors later, I faced an automated blast door slamming open and shut in an erratic pattern. Sparks rained each time it groaned. I timed the shifting door wings, vaulting through in one breathless dash¡ªand came face-to-face with a pair of B2 super battle droids. Each wore a retrofitted jetpack, and missile tubes bristled from their arm plating.
¡°Exasperated Revelation: Ah, you¡¯ve discovered my aerial prototypes. Please, do not spare your screams.¡±
The B2 on the left kicked in its thrusters, hovering up to the ceiling, then launched a small rocket. I leapt aside, letting the projectile slam into a rusted console. Flame and debris exploded out, slicing a gash across my thigh. Hissing in pain, I forced my rage to guide me. A volley of blaster fire from the second B2 peppered my cover. I had to move.
I lunged forward, flipping behind a half-collapsed machine, then tore another panel from the floor. With a fierce telekinetic shove, I rammed it into the right droid¡¯s thruster. The jetpack sputtered, sending it spinning out of control. It slammed into the far wall with a crash, half its body crushed into the deprecated wall.
¡°Contemptuous Encouragement: Faster, Inquisitor! I am sure you can amuse me more if you truly apply yourself.¡±
Ignoring HK¡¯s snide commentary, I turned my attention to the second B2 still airborne, leveling a wrist rocket at me. I used the Force to yank a dangling light fixture overhead, ripping it free so that it crashed onto the B2¡¯s chest. Its rocket misfired, streaking upward to detonate in the ceiling. Shards of metal rained down, taking the B2 with them. I lunged in, channeling the dark side into a single palm strike that broke through its torso plating, crumpling its core.
¡°Disappointed Sigh: They barely lasted half a minute. I will make note of that.¡±
The next hallway was narrower, lights flickering ominously. A faint chorus of mechanical squeals drifted from below. Suddenly, a swarm of mouse droids scurried around the corner, each bristling with razor-sharp buzzsaws attached to their top hulls.
¡°Curious Addendum: Meet my squeaking minions. Mind the new modifications¡ªexcessive, but delightful.¡±
The mice whirred, zipping in figure-eights around me. I tried kicking one aside, only for another to nip at my shin, slicing a shallow gash. Letting out a string of curses, I hopped back and seized the Force. I yanked one unlucky droid up by its spinning saw, sending it hurling into two more. Sparks erupted as they collided, a swirl of shrieks cutting off mid-grind.
But more of them raced in. One managed to slash across my calf, drawing blood. Anger pulsed in my veins; I slammed out a Force wave, scattering half the swarm like leaves in the wind. Metal bits clanged off the walls as they slammed into each other, shorting out in the process.
¡°Approving Statement: Your use of telekinesis is marginally impressive, blind one.¡±
¡°You¡¯re gonna regret this,¡± I rasped, stepping over a partially dissected mouse droid. ¡°I promise you.¡±
¡°Smug Rejoinder: A meatbag¡¯s promise is worth less than rusted durasteel, but do try your best.¡±
Ahead, the corridor stretched into darkness. I felt the scuttling of metal limbs on the ceiling. The unusual whirring brought to mind old memories, that being the death of R4. I remembered with clarity, the droid getting cut apart by these particular breed of droid. Buzzdroids. The moment I stepped forward, a cluster of them dropped like lethal spiders, aiming to latch onto my arms and legs.
My instincts flared. I twisted sideways, letting two of them land just to my left. Another latched onto my shoulder, drilling its main pincer dangerously close to my neck. Gritting my teeth, I seized it with the Force, prying it off before it could carve flesh. I slammed it into the floor, crushing its carapace.
Two more latched onto my back, their whirling saws chewing through the section of armor and reinforced fabric. I gasped at the sudden sting, then flung myself against the corridor wall, scraping them off in a violent collision. Sparks leaped as I stomped on one. The other skittered free, but I whipped out a telekinetic lash that flung it into a new set of lasers protruding from the wall.
¡°Expletive-Filled Declaration: Force lasers, how I adore them,¡± HK cooed through the speakers.
Sure enough, thin red beams crisscrossed from recesses in the metal panels, forcing me to crouch low or leap high to avoid them. With a feral grin, I realized I could use them. When the final buzzdroid lunged at me, I sidestepped and gave a small Force push. It shot forward, directly into the beam. The laser cut it clean in half, limbs clattering away.
I exhaled, exhaustion tugging at my limbs. How many more insane contraptions did HK have waiting?
I pushed into a wide open lab that smelled of scorched metal and old chemicals. The walls bore deep slash marks, possibly from prior tests. Out of a side corridor emerged two commando droids, each brandishing slender vibro-swords. They moved with eerie grace, scanning me with glowing photoreceptors.
¡°Observant Statement: These commando units are a personal favorite of mine. Their swords are so elegantly crafted.¡±
If only I had one of those. I had no real weapon except the Force, but it¡¯s all I¡¯d need for now. The first droid lunged, blade whistling toward my ribs. I sidestepped, but its partner¡¯s slash caught my forearm. Pain seared through me, warm blood trickling down. Clenching my jaw, I seized a leftover chunk of scattered tools from the floor, flinging them at the second commando. It blocked with its sword, sparks dancing off the metal.
While it was distracted, I spun in close to the first one, hooking a foot around its ankle to topple it. My armored elbow slammed into its head module, but not enough to disable it. It rolled away, blade flashing in a counter. A stinging line cut my shoulder. Too fast, I realized, feeling blood soak my tattered sleeve.
I reeled, letting the dark side burst forth in an instinctive wave that shoved both droids back, clattering into a collapsed console. They rebounded with fluid efficiency. One slid behind me, slashing in a lethal arc. I kicked aside a half-lifted panel, tangling up its legs for half a heartbeat. The second droid came at me from the front, sword raised high. Desperation flared¡ªI ducked at the last second, forcing the droids to nearly collide with each other.
Seeing an opening, I jammed a telekinetic downward spike between them, sending them smashing together in a violent tangle of limbs. Before they could regroup, I grabbed one of their swords mid-fall, spun, and drove it through the second droid¡¯s chest. The first tried to twist free, so I yanked the sword back out and impaled it as well. Both collapsed, spitting sparks.
¡°Aggravated Observation: You do delight in destroying my favorites, Inquisitor.¡±
I just coughed, pressing a hand against the fresh wound in my arm. ¡°You should see how many favorite droids I can kill in one day. Perhaps we¡¯ll find out soon.¡±
I staggered out of that lab and into a narrower catwalk bridging two sections of the bunker. No sooner had I stepped onto the walkway than a chunk of the floor caved in, revealing an energy trap beneath. Twisting in mid-air, I grabbed the edge, my feet skimming the lethal glow. A flick of the Force propelled me up and over the collapsing section, barely safe. Another wave of mouse droids skittered out from a hatch, but I hurled them off the catwalk with a gesture, hearing them clank and sputter into the trap below.
I navigated another corridor, dispatching a small group of B2 droids lurking in an old cargo bay. Their rocket arms mostly misfired, leaving me room to bring down the overhead structure in a controlled collapse. My muscles screamed with each telekinetic push, fatigue gnawing at the corners of my mind. HK cackled overhead, enthralled by my struggle.
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Finally, I reached a maintenance sector. The floor was littered with dismembered B1 torsos and random welding rigs. In the center stood a single GNK droid rigged with a massive rocket launcher strapped to its top. Its monotone gonk seemed to greet me with comedic menace.
¡°Smug Declaration: Excellent! My warhead-charged GONK is a personal favorite. Do enjoy.¡±
The GNK droid let out a rather aggressive gonk, pivoting awkwardly to aim the launcher. I dove behind a stack of crates just as a rocket whooshed over my head. The explosion rocked the chamber, sending shards of metal into my back. Wheezing, I fought to remain upright. Another rocket fired, but I managed to deflect it mid-air with a hasty Force push, slamming it into the far wall. Debris rained in every direction.
Gritting my teeth, I mustered one last dash. I tackled the GNK from behind, knocking it off-balance. It beeped frantically, swinging the launcher around. I grabbed the rocket tube in a fierce telekinetic grip, yanking it free of the droid¡¯s mount. With a furious growl, I smashed the launcher down, caving in the GONK¡¯s top casing. Sparks flew, and the droid sputtered, letting out a final beep before collapsing with a sad hiss.
¡°Aggravated Annoyance: You reduce all my lovely contraptions to scrap! How inconsiderate.¡±
A blast door on the far side groaned open, revealing a large storeroom lined with battered crates and empty racks. My gut twisted¡ªsomething felt off. Then from behind the crates, they emerged: a small army of B1 droids, easily thirty or more, blasters primed. Half the group was perched on catwalks, the rest spread across the floor.
¡°Smug Explanation: I find quantity can be a quality all its own, meatbag. Enjoy being outnumbered.¡±
Fatigue weighed on every cell of my body. My wounds bled, each breath coming ragged. I can¡¯t fight them all one by one. But the dark side pounded in my skull, fueled by my fury and desperation. If I wanted to survive, I¡¯d have to unleash it.
Blaster fire erupted, crisscrossing the storeroom. I flung myself behind a crate, but it was too flimsy to last. Enough. Something snapped in my mind. I burst from cover, thrusting both arms forward.
¡°Enough!¡±
Like a tidal wave, the Force wrapped every B1 in the room in a choking telekinetic grip. I lifted them all, a few dozen squeals and metallic screeches filling the air. They flailed helplessly, metal limbs rattling. Then, with a guttural roar, I slammed them down, cracking the durasteel floor in a thunderous impact. A massive cloud of dust and shrapnel soared up, and when it cleared, nothing but twisted rubble and sparking droid parts remained.
I stood there, panting, hands trembling. The entire storeroom was silent. Even HK¡¯s voice didn¡¯t chime in for a moment, as if stunned by the display. He wasn¡¯t the only one as I took note of the destruction.
Then he let out a low, sardonic hum.
¡°Reluctant Admiration: That was¡ almost impressive, Inquisitor.¡±
Another corridor stretched beyond, flanked by flickering overhead lamps. At the end, a massive repurposed loader droid loomed¡ªtwo meters tall, thickly armored. On either side stood two MagnaGuards, their electrostaffs crackling with purple arcs.
¡°Mocking Commentary: Oh dear, you look so tired. Why not surrender? You¡¯ve nowhere left to run.¡±
The MagnaGuards stepped forward, electrostaffs humming. The loader droid remained stationary, but a bubble shield flickered around it, glimmering with an iridescent glow. Then the droid¡¯s arms split apart, revealing mini rocket pods.
I swallowed, battered and bleeding. The first rocket salvo launched¡ªfour small warheads streaked toward me. Instinct flared; I flung a wave of the Force to try and redirect them. They detonated uselessly against the loader droid¡¯s shield, which merely rippled, showing not a single scratch.
The MagnaGuards wasted no time, lunging. One rushed me from the left; the other skirted my right flank. I twisted sideways, narrowly avoiding a crackling staff that might have taken my head off. The loader droid opened up with a pair of scattergun blasts, pellets peppering the corridor. Shrapnel bit into my side, and pain shot up my legs.
¡°How aggravating,¡± I hissed, ignoring the fresh sting. My breath ragged, I latched onto the nearest MagnaGuard¡¯s arm in a Force grip, swinging it into the path of the next scattergun volley. It twitched as the blast shredded its torso, limbs flailing.
¡°Anguished Exclamation: My dear bodyguards, do not fail me now!¡± HK called, voice dripping with scorn.
Blood dripped down my brow. I forced the pain into anger, using it to lunge at the second MagnaGuard. It spun its staff in a flourish, carving sizzling arcs that nearly tore open my chest. I ducked, rolling behind it. Grabbing the first MagnaGuard¡¯s electrostaff from the floor, I ignited it and parried a vicious thrust. Our staffs crackled on contact, sparks erupting.
The loader droid paused, seemingly reloading rockets or pivoting to aim. I had seconds. Gritting my teeth, I hammered the MagnaGuard¡¯s staff aside and drove my electrostaff into its chest plating. Purple lightning cascaded over its metal body. It seized for a moment, then collapsed.
¡°Unfortunate Disappointment: I expected more from them.¡± HK¡¯s tone was chilly but tinged with mild surprise.
That left only the towering loader droid, shield shimmering. It stomped forward, retracting the shield with a flicker, arms shifting into shotgun mode. Then, with a metallic clang, it produced a short-bladed lightsaber, igniting a searing red blade.
¡°Fuck you, droid! Giving this one a saber¡ªbullshit,¡± I roared at the overhead speakers.
A smug hiss crackled in reply.
¡°Mocking Retort: Do not credit me for every invention of these pitiful meatbags. I merely put them to proper use.¡±
The loader droid charged, saber in one hand, scattergun arm readied in the other, peppering me with short-range blasts. I dove aside, but the corridor was tight. Pellets tore across my arm, gouging flesh. Too close. The droid swung the lightsaber, and I had to parry with my stolen electrostaff. Sparks spat in brilliant arcs as it hammered me back, blow after blow.
I recognized the forms¡ªit used Soresu sweeps, then a Shii-Cho overhead slash. ¡°Where¡¯d they get the programming for these moves?¡± I gasped, voice raw.
¡°Bemused Clarification: The droid¡¯s memory banks contain certain combat algorithms from Jedi¡ acquisitions.¡± HK paused, voice rattling with glee. ¡°I see you are enjoying them.¡± Or data given by Dooku, I suspected. But now wasn¡¯t the time for speculation. Focus. I steeled myself as the onslaught continued.
Each clash jarred my bones. The droid pressed an advantage, forcing me back until my staff angled wrong. In a swift cut, the lightsaber sliced my electrostaff in half. I cursed, reeling away to avoid a follow-up slash. Desperate, I reached out with the Force, trying to yank the saber from the droid¡¯s grip. Instead, the droid crushed the hilt in its durasteel fingers with a loud crunch, then bull-rushed forward.
The momentum from my Force pull only propelled it faster. I hardly had time to brace before the metal titan slammed me in the chest, knocking me down the corridor. My body struck the floor in a burst of agony, breath knocked clean out.
¡°Exasperated Delight: Oh, how I love the sound of your pained grunts, Inquisitor.¡±
I struggled to stand, but an energy spike overhead told me another ray shield was about to snap into place. I scrambled on hands and knees, rolling sideways just as the cylindrical barrier fizzled to life an inch from my leg. Still in motion, the loader droid stomped closer, shotgun arms cycling shells.
Multiple blasts peppered the corridor, each pellet whistling by. I hissed as a couple seared across my shoulder, fresh blood oozing. That was it¡ªpain, anger, frustration boiled over.
Raising my one good arm, I hissed, ¡°No more.¡±
Dark side power burst from my core, seizing the droid¡¯s arm cannons in a telekinetic vise. With a savage twist of my clenched fist, I crushed them. Metal shrieked in protest as the cannons split and warped, disabling its scattergun.
¡°Fu¡ª¡± I breathed, voice shaking with wrath. ¡°No more games!¡±
I summoned a burst of speed, slamming my fist into the loader droid¡¯s central chassis. My bones screamed as I felt something crack in my hand, but I poured all I had into the strike. Electricity danced over the droid¡¯s frame, shorting out circuits in a sizzling explosion. The center of its torso caved in, a smoking hole bursting outward. Staggering, the loader droid collapsed to its knees, then pitched forward, dead.
Stunned, I took a step back, cradling my injured hand. ¡°Fuck¡ I did it.¡± A thin, disbelieving smile tugged at my lips. Force lightning. I¡¯d managed to use it for the first time. If I wasn¡¯t in agony, I might¡¯ve felt pride¡ªor terror.
¡°Reluctant Praise: Congratulations, blind one. You have exceeded my more pessimistic estimates.¡±
I turned to the sealed door beyond, hearing the hiss of magnetic locks disengaging. A trinity of thick metal slab slid aside, revealing a final corridor leading to the command center.
A prickle of dark energy rippled through the floor, pulsing up my ankles like a vicious heartbeat. The meltdown, I realized. Whatever HK-47 had done, the entire bunker was collapsing into final catastrophe. I paused outside the command center¡¯s threshold, clenching my jaw.
No... There are families up there.
¡°HK,¡± I muttered under my breath, stepping through the doorway. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you actually¡ª¡±
A bolt of blaster fire whizzed past my ear, slamming into the wall. I jerked aside with a hiss, guided by the Force as I flicked a hand, ripping the small blaster from an astromech droid¡¯s claw. The weapon clattered across the floor, out of reach. I forced my breath steady, letting my senses paint a picture of my surroundings: flickering readouts, half-broken consoles, a tide of lethal energy slowly building beneath the floor¡ªa reactor meltdown just starting.
A rasping voice emanated from the astromech¡¯s vocoder. ¡°Irritated Declaration: You have a frustrating habit of surviving, meatbag.¡±
¡°So we go down together,¡± I snapped. ¡°Since you can¡¯t kill me?¡±
¡°Contemptuous Observation: One well-aimed bolt nearly did suffice. A pity you are so¡ agile.¡±
I snorted, turning my attention to the battered droid body. ¡°You¡¯d doom this entire bunker¡ªkill children, families¡ªjust for some informant? I promised them no bloodshed. Even if that Nemoidian scum Bitoor stabbed me in the back, I don¡¯t like breaking my word.¡±
¡°Proud Negation: Promises mean nothing, especially from Imperial filth.¡± The astromech¡¯s dome clicked, and a series of overhead monitors whirred to life, projecting images I couldn¡¯t truly see¡ªyet I could sense the horrors in the Force: Zalrio Plaza, cratered blocks, scorched bodies, newscasters reciting death tolls.
"Fifteen thousand confirmed dead in a terror attack on Zalrio Plaza..."
"Authorities have yet to clear the wreckage."
"An Imperial-owned traffic controller was dropped from low orbit that night..."
"Rogue Jedi Rahm Kota boarded and commandeered the station with the help of his own militia¡ª"
HK said nothing further, just letting the feeds echo. The cold wave of guilt twisted my insides. I was the one who dropped that station. I had told myself it was necessary in a way, that I had no choice. The voices of the newscasters rattled me far more than I cared to admit.
Finally, HK cut the feed. ¡°Derisive Command: Do not lecture me about innocents. Your own ledger is soaked with blood. How many fatherless brats on Nar Shaddaa?¡±
¡°I¡¡±, I started. I had no good answer. I clenched my fists, trembling with rage and remorse. ¡°Enough. I¡¯m not here to debate my sins versus yours. Let¡¯s get out of here,¡± I barked, keeping my voice low. ¡°You¡¯re coming with me.¡±
A staticky chuckle escaped the droid. ¡°Indignant Rebuttal: I will be turned to slag before allowing Imperial meatbags to dissect my memory core.¡±
¡°Who said anything about turning you in?¡± I retorted, stepping closer. ¡°You hold more value than just some ¡®transmission codes¡¯ or whatever Nemoidian secrets Bitoor had here.¡± That wasn¡¯t exactly true, but who knew what secrets the droid held.
¡°Surprised Query: You would risk harboring me from your Emperor¡¯s clutches?¡±
I grimaced, ignoring how every fiber in my body ached. ¡°I have my own priorities. This meltdown¡¯s unable to be stopped, right?¡±
A huff of mechanical frustration. ¡°Regretful Confirmation: Indeed. The meltdown ensures none of Fulcrum¡¯s data remain for Imperial rummaging. I merely miscalculated your resilience, Inquisitor.¡±
¡°So join me.¡± My breath hitched as the pain in my chest lashed out. ¡°Before this place buries us both.¡±
HK¡¯s dome swiveled, the single manipulator arm twitching in indecision. Then a resigned beep. ¡°Sullen Compliance: Very well. Better to persist in existence than be entombed here. Lead on, meatbag¡¡±
With a nod, I turned, half-limping out of the command center. The astromech¡¯s jump jets flared to life as it propelled from the raised dais to then start to roll behind me.
The dark side flared through my battered muscles just enough to keep me upright. Behind me, HK¡¯s astromech body whirred in short squeaks, one claw occasionally twitching as though it still wanted to blast me. Alarms pulsed in the Force¡ªthis bunker was on the brink of total meltdown, just a few more minutes now.
We reached the corridor where TK-421 lay slumped against the wall, still out cold. I nudged him with the toe of my boot, confirming he was breathing. Pain rippled through my side with each movement, but I forced myself to remain focused. I¡¯d come this far. Couldn¡¯t leave him here.
HK¡¯s artificial voice crackled, tinged with sarcasm. ¡°Exasperated question: Must we really collect this worthless stormtrooper, Master? Surely his contribution is negligible at best.¡±
I scowled at the droid¡¯s audacity. ¡°You calling me ¡®Master¡¯ now?¡±
He let out a derisive metallic chuckle. ¡°Sullen remark: You insisted I accompany you, thus sparing me from molten oblivion. I have no alternative. Hence, ¡®Master.¡¯ Though the title leaves a bitter note in my processors.¡±
Despite everything¡ªdespite the guilt of leaving the entire settlement to face the meltdown¡ªI allowed a short, humorless laugh to escape my lips. ¡°Great. I¡¯ll take what I can get. Now, help me with him.¡±
With a low mechanical grumble, HK extended his small manipulator arm in a gesture of reluctance. I hefted TK-421 onto my shoulder, gritting my teeth at the lance of pain in my ribs. ¡°Let¡¯s go, HK. You can move faster than me on those treads. We need to clear the atmosphere before it all comes down.¡±
¡°Mocking encouragement: By all means, Master¡ªdo try not to topple. I¡¯ve no desire to scrape your remains off this floor.¡±
Together, we fled down the corridor, the meltdown sirens pounding in my skull. Each step a fresh stab of agony, each echoing alarm a grim reminder of the thousands left behind. But there was no time for conscience or remorse. We had a single objective: survive.
HK led the way, occasionally uttering a shrill beep, and I couldn¡¯t help but feel the twisted absurdity of the moment¡ªan assassin droid calling me Master, a unconscious trooper draped over my shoulder, and a forgotten bunker about to swallow every soul above with the building explosion awaiting to burst from within its depths.
What a wonderful start to try and find you, Snips.
Chapter 20: Scorched Earth
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 20: Scorched Earth
"One man should be able to make a difference if he is powerful enough."
A Living Nightmare
Chapter 20: Revelatory Reprieve
"One man should be able to make a difference if he is powerful enough."
Location: The Scythe- Med Bay
¡°So the droid tried to kill us¡ªwell, you really¡ªand now it¡¯s flying the ship?¡± the Captain asked in disbelief as he peeled a medpack from my back. I could barely feel it, the adhesive clinging tightly to the healed wounds left by those damn Buzzdroids. Bacta-coated patches and strips covered the other lacerations and cuts I¡¯d sustained during that hellish bunker ordeal.
¡°Mhm. Crazier things have happened,¡± I replied with a chuckle. TK-421 had finally came to after we¡¯d left the bunker behind some parsecs ago. He looked around from where I stuffed him in the co-pilot seat, surprised to find an old, rusting astromech droid plugged into a scomp to fine-tune the engines. ¡°The Master is tending to his wounds, meatbag,¡± HK-47 had informed him.
The droid proved unexpectedly helpful, carefully applying bandages and medpacks after setting the ship¡¯s course for the nearest inhabited Imperial planet¡ªa proper medical facility, no less. Sure, HK-47¡¯s astromech chassis boasted only a single appendage, but having an extra hand when mine was nearly falling apart was a blessing. The numbness from the injections in my left hand eased the pain, though I knew I¡¯d eventually need a real medical droid or an organic doctor for a proper fix.
I rolled my shoulders and stretched my upper back, testing for any lingering pain. After an hour or so, everything seemed in order; I even managed a small smile, relieved that I was no longer bleeding on the ship¡¯s floors. The blood smears on the walls may have to get cleaned up, I thought.
¡°So, with that being a dud, pirates or rebels?¡± I asked TK as I carefully pulled a clean shirt over my scarred torso. ¡°The moon was a bit of a dud, so to speak.¡±
¡°We can figure that out after we get you to Toriz V. That hand is in bad shape, sir,¡± the Captain replied, as he began to stow away some of the medical supplies HK had left on the counter. ¡°And that armor is somewhat¡ªlet¡¯s say¡ªfucked up too.¡±
¡°Nope, nuh uh. No,¡± I interrupted with a modicum of mirth in my voice. ¡°You can¡¯t use that. Sounds weird coming from you. Stick to kriff and whatever else schutta¡¯s say nowadays.¡±
Begrudgingly, he acquiesced. ¡°Fine. But my point stands: you need your hand fixed, and your gear too, before we do anything else.¡±
¡°Murder machine also needs fixed,¡± I added. I didn¡¯t want him to remain stuck in that astromech frame if I was to keep him around. The utility was there, but if we were to transfer his memory core and programming into a KX-Series security droid¡ªthat would be a sight. The only hitch would be finding a trustworthy tech to handle the transfer.
¡°Fixed how, sir? Its vocabulary is archaic,¡± he grumbled.
¡°I want to put him into a new body, sweet and simple. A KX unit should work well,¡± I explained. I could feel the anxiety shift in TK-421; he saw the state I was in when he woke up¡ªblood and wounds everywhere. I was half-dead, and it was a miracle I was still conscious. I felt exhausted, but I couldn¡¯t stop. The dark side empowered me, and I was still riding that high.
Struggling to rise from the medical bed, I staggered slightly, almost losing my balance. I managed to catch myself, though a limp reminded me of every harsh blow I¡¯d taken. With a pained grunt, I got to my feet and lightly punched the stormtrooper on the pauldron covering his shoulder. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about it. He follows my orders now, and I want to find out whose orders he used to follow.¡±
My body protested every movement as my legs shakily moved me to the cockpit. The ship''s hum was a constant backdrop, a low vibration that settled into my bones. With a sigh, I slumped down onto the floor near the console, stretching my legs out before me. TK-421 rotated the co-pilot¡¯s seat around to face the astromech droid, arms crossed as he studied the rusting frame with suspicion.
HK sat motionless, the flickering lights on his chassis the only sign of activity. The droid had been quiet for a while, likely processing whatever twisted protocols filled his programming.
¡°How did you end up in that bunker to begin with?¡± I asked. The question had been gnawing at my mind since I first heard his familiar tone over the bunker''s intercom.
¡°Weary Explanation: Oooh, it¡¯s a long and boring story, Master. Filled with Jedi, galaxy-spanning war, dreadful politics, and the death of my former master. A true masterpiece of carnage, I assure you.¡±
So, he was active during the Clone Wars? ¡°Then, your old master, who was that?¡± My curiosity was piqued even further.
¡°Statement: My memory banks are locked, though they delighted in the strange form of expletives you use, Master. A truly refined trait in an organic.¡±
¡°So they were from Earth?¡± I asked, surprised.
TK furrowed his brow. ¡°Wait¡ªEarth?¡±
¡°My, uh, home planet. Sol 3, I guess, could be its official name,¡± I explained cautiously. Third planet in the Sol system. ¡°Sol 3¡± worked better than ¡®planet dirt.¡¯
¡°Clarification: I am unfamiliar with any Earth, other than the mounds of it that the corpses I leave are buried under.
I shook my head. ¡°So your master¡ wasn¡¯t native to this galaxy?¡±
I waited for the ripple of change, the shift in reality that would turn my words into unintelligible Sith gibberish. The Force did not intervene this time, unlike with Ferus.
¡°Affirmation: I have had masters who confided in me that they were not of this local galaxy, yes. It would seem you are among their number. I am beginning to think the universe is more infested than I originally suspected.¡±
¡°I¡¯m not alone then!?¡± I beamed. I wanted to cry. It felt like a relief, like a weight that was pressing down was lifted. There were others from home, here. But he said ¡®previous masters¡¯¡ªand the last one died.
¡°Wait, so if your last master died, is there anyone who remains?¡±
¡°Uncertain Confirmation: Not that I have stored in my memory banks, that I can access. But perhaps they, too, are plotting somewhere in the shadows, sharpening their knives. One can hope.¡±
TK finally spoke up. ¡°You¡¯re¡ not from here?¡± The gears in his head were spinning, his sense of uneasiness was palpable.
I shook my head. ¡°I am from..elsewhere. I woke up here, memories from another life intact.¡±
Realization dawned on TK-421. ¡°I knew it! There was no kriffing way a saboteur could sneak onto that Star Destroyer!¡± He let out a laugh, jumping up before slumping back down. ¡°Why hide it, then?¡±
My shoulders shrugged. ¡°No reason to. It never held any importance. My past is my past. I just want to change the future.¡±
¡°Observation: My previous master felt differently. He strove to keep the Republic from falling apart and ended up sacrificing his own life. A truly misguided effort.¡±
¡°I guess it makes sense then. Of course someone from my world would seek you out, or be guided by the Force to do so.¡± Like I seem to have. I thought to myself. It was worrying, feeling these strings being pulled as I tried to make my own decisions. ¡°Yet with the Force, there¡¯s no such thing as true coincidences.¡±
¡°Objection: Oh master, must you bring the Force into everything? The galaxy¡¯s greatest excuse for inexplicable nonsense.¡±
I sighed, shaking my head. "Alright, let''s focus. HK, you were in a CIS bunker, but somehow you ended up in an astromech droid? What happened to your original body?"
¡°Mocking Explanation: Ah yes, my glorious form, reduced to a glorified trash compactor. How humiliating. The memory still haunts my circuits.¡±
TK smirked, crossing his arms. "Gotta say, I prefer you in the tin can. Less chance of you strangling me in my sleep."
¡°Objection: If I wished to terminate you in your sleep, meatbag, you would never wake up to voice such concerns. I would be most efficient.¡±
I exhaled through my nose, suppressing a grin. "That¡¯s enough, what happened?.¡± I gestured to the droid to continue explaining.
¡°Exultant Statement: My memory core was salvaged from the explosion that killed my previous master. A most unfortunate loss¡ªthough I did take one hundred and seventy three battle droids with me before the end, thirty six of them were reduced to slag with my master''s lightsaber. A most entertaining but bloodless slaughter.¡±
I groaned, rubbing my forehead. The damn lightsaber! ¡°I left that loader lightsaber in the bunker!¡± Then I remembered its fate. ¡°Wait, never mind. Thing was crushed.¡±
HK stopped, unusually silent.
¡°Sorry, HK. I just, uh¡ªtrophies. I like collecting them.¡± I shrugged. I truly did. Each saber felt different, and the kyber crystal within resonated uniquely with each Jedi. Even the crystal in my saber had its own strange signature. Not truly my own, not yet. No pet rock for me, yet.
TK leaned back in the pilot¡¯s seat, looking at HK. ¡°So they put you in an astromech droid? For their experiments?¡±
¡°Answer: Yes. The brainless meatbags believed I was reduced to mere base programming. A dangerous mistake on their part.¡±
¡°So just the Peragus mining facility all over again, just fewer explosions and no HK-51s?¡± I asked, keeping a sliver of my Force sense on TK. Still no response or change with me blurting out my knowledge. It seemed that the far past never changed then, if it¡¯s technically historical events.
HK let out an irritated whir. ¡°Indignant Correction: I had forgotten about those inferior HK duplicates. I suddenly feel the need for a long oil bath after hearing their wretched designations again. But yes, far more elegantly done. It was a slow process. By the time I had seized control, the inferior droid''s shutdown signal was broadcasted. The war had ended, and the Jedi Order was dead yet again.¡±
¡°Again?¡± TK asked, clearly not clued in on his galactic history. Granted, it was 3000 years ago.
¡°The Jedi had been purged before, in a different manner. They destroyed each other, not like how the Emperor did,¡± I informed him. ¡°Back to back wars, thinned ranks by death and then switching sides. It took a toll on those knights of old.¡±.
¡°Admiration: Yes, Emperor Palpatine was quite brutal and efficient. An army with the sole purpose of slaughtering Jedi! As expected of a Sith Lord.¡±
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Panic and surprise bloomed in my chest hearing the droid mention the Sith Lord. I whispered, ¡°You know?¡± Very few even knew that fact. That HK¡¯s former master would entrust him with that information? What else did they do? What changed?
¡°Proud Affirmation: Yes, Master. Fulcrum had informed me after we met again. My previous master set up several failsafes in the event of his death. Important information such as that was revealed after the war. If I were told before, the Empire would have never existed and there would be a dreadful peace.¡±
¡°You hate peace,¡± I stated.
¡°Statement: Correct. But if my master were to direct my sights to such a target, I would follow his wishes. Such is my primary programming, Master.¡±
I nodded in understanding. I could see where this was going. ¡°Your previous master died, you took control of the bunker, Fulcrum had a way to contact you or you found Fulcrum. Then they struck a deal with the survivors and remnants of the CIS that still persisted on the planet. Is that right?¡±
¡°Confirmation: More or less, Master.¡± Head bobbing several times in understanding, I adjusted my sitting position on the cold floor.
¡°Excited Question: Now we hunt them and kill them? Oh, how I have waited for such a day! I do hope Fulcrum screams and begs in the end. The thrill of the chase is most invigorating.¡±
¡°But my current form is less than adequate for such a hunt,¡± he lamented.
I pointed at the droid and looked at TK-421. ¡°See! The droid agrees too, we gotta get him a new body.¡±
¡°Statement: Oh, I would like that very much. Perhaps something tall, ominous, and filled with many, many ways to decimate our foes with efficiency.¡±
Before either me or TK could respond, the ship lurched as the inertia dampeners kicked in.
We had arrived at Toriz V.
Location: Toriz V - Toriz City, Imperial Outpost
The descent into Toriz V¡¯s atmosphere was smooth, the dull hum of the ship¡¯s engines reverberating through my weary body. The planet below was blanketed in a haze of industrial smog, its sprawling cityscape a mix of towering smokestacks and rigid durasteel buildings. The Imperial outpost, nestled within the heart of a small industrial city, was our destination¡ªa secure and heavily monitored facility that promised the bare minimum of safety and efficiency.
As the ship touched down on the designated landing platform, I felt my exhaustion deepen. Every movement was an effort. The wounds, barely held together by bacta patches and crude field dressings, pulsed with a dull ache. I pushed through it, stepping onto the durasteel ramp with TK-421 flanking my side and HK-47¡¯s rusting astromech frame rolling behind us.
Two stormtroopers and a uniformed officer awaited us at the entrance, their postures rigid, their presence exuding the usual mix of discipline and barely concealed suspicion. The officer¡ªa stiff-jawed man with neatly combed black hair¡ªstepped forward, his sharp eyes flicking over me and then shifting to the battered droid behind us.
¡°Inquisitor,¡± he greeted me with a curt nod. ¡°Lieutenant Commander Vale. You weren¡¯t expected.¡±
¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting to be here either,¡± I rasped, voice hoarse from fatigue. ¡°I require immediate medical attention. I need to be placed in a bacta tank as soon as possible.¡±
Vale¡¯s gaze lingered on the visible bacta strips on my face and the mangled left hand. He gestured toward one of the stormtroopers, who quickly nodded and turned toward the facility.
I continued before he could ask further questions. ¡°Additionally, this droid requires routine maintenance. Cleaning, repairs¡ªnot a memory wipe.¡± I made sure to emphasize that last part. ¡°And I expect efficiency.¡±
¡°Of course, Inquisitor,¡± Vale said, his expression unreadable, though I could sense the unease radiating from him. ¡°Is there anything else?¡±
I turned my head slightly toward TK-421. ¡°Captain 421 will assist in whatever way he can. I want an immediate requisition request for either a replacement Inquisitor uniform or repairs on my current gear. Whatever is faster.¡±
Vale regarded TK-421 before giving a clipped nod. ¡°Understood. I¡¯ll have my quartermaster oversee it personally.¡±
I exhaled sharply and rolled my shoulders, pushing through the pain that threatened to buckle my legs. ¡°Then let¡¯s not waste time.¡±
Location: Toriz V - Toriz City, Imperial Outpost Medical Wing
The sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils as I was guided through the medical bay doors. The facility was dimly lit, the humming of machines blending with the faint beeping of diagnostic equipment. Medics worked efficiently, their expressions professional but edged with uncertainty as they carefully removed the bandages.
A medical droid whirred to life, its glowing photoreceptors scanning my injuries. ¡°Patient status: critical but stable. Extensive soft tissue damage detected. Full bacta submersion recommended.¡±
I said nothing as I stripped off the remaining change of clothes and stepped toward the cylindrical tank filled with the thick, translucent fluid. Two other medical droids helped attach the oxygen mask over my mouth and guided me into the liquid. The moment the gel-like substance enveloped me, the weightlessness took hold, dulling the pain as my body began its slow process of recovery.
As my consciousness drifted, I let go of the physical world and embraced the darkness. It had been a few years, and at least this time my knee wasn¡¯t stabbed.
Floating in the abyss of my own mind, I reached outward, stretching my senses beyond the confines of my body. The outpost was brimming with unease¡ªan undercurrent of tension that pulsed through every officer, every technician, every trooper stationed within its walls.
I fed on that unease, letting it guide me deeper into the dark side. Their fears, their suspicions, their quiet anxieties¡ªthey all became fuel. I plunged further, letting my consciousness detach from my battered form.
Drifting beyond the medical bay, I followed the ripples of disturbance through the halls. I saw the swirling distortions of energy that emanated from the facility¡¯s staff, each person leaving trails of emotion like ink bleeding through water.
I wasn¡¯t here to waste time with nameless mooks. I sought out HK-47.
I found him in one of the outpost¡¯s mechanical bays, his rusted astromech form surrounded by a small team of technicians. They worked with methodical precision, dismantling the dirt-caked plating, polishing away the grime that had settled into every groove. One tech adjusted the astromech¡¯s appendage, another pried open a panel to check the droid¡¯s internal circuits.
HK remained inactive, his systems offline while they worked. I observed him closely, letting my senses push deeper, searching for any trace of Fulcrum¡¯s influence. Any lingering trace to follow. Nothing.
No residual presence. No lingering imprint. Whatever I had hoped to find, whatever connection Fulcrum had left behind¡ªit wasn¡¯t there.
I pulled away from the scene, frustration curling at the edges of my thoughts. I wasn¡¯t done yet.
I reached further. Deeper. Beyond the boundaries of the outpost, beyond the atmosphere of Toriz V. I grasped at the remnants of memory, pulling from the past¡ªfragments of a life before all of this. Earth. The Clone Wars. Ahsoka Tano. A single spark ignited in the void. It expanded. My pulse surged. My breath hitched. Something was pulling back.
My body reacted violently. Alarms blared. My heart pounded in my chest, sending shockwaves of pain through me. The outpost¡¯s energy blurred, my consciousness ripped from the vastness of the Force and slammed back into my body.
A voice. Distant. Muffled. Mechanical.
¡°¡administer another dose.¡±
Then another, closer, firmer. Feminine.
¡°He¡¯s Miralukan, let¡¯s go with Jrindazol. Half a dose.¡±
Darkness swallowed me whole.
I woke in a bed, feeling much better. Instinctively, I reached for my injured hand. The damage was healed, though the movement was stiff. I spread my senses to the rest of the room, noting that TK-421 was sitting nearby, the swirling energies of a droid that wasn¡¯t HK, and the calm presence of the doctor I had heard before I fell away into oblivion.
¡°Ma¡¯am, the patient is awake,¡± the droid informed her, drawing her attention away from the terminal on her desk.
The woman turned, offering a polite smile. ¡°Kilanna Rilos, Lead Medical Officer.¡±
I saw her presence tremble in the Force, the subtle sound of fabric shifting as she extended a hand toward me. I returned her smile and clasped it firmly. ¡°A pleasure, ma¡¯am.¡±
¡°I am pleased to see that your wounds are healed, sir,¡± she continued, professional yet cautious. ¡°Though we did have a scare for a moment¡ªyour vitals spiked, and your body went into shock. We understand that can happen with Miralukans as a side effect of bacta. Though, I didn¡¯t expect such a reaction with someone like yourself.¡±
I frowned. ¡°What do you mean?¡± My voice carried a sharp edge, more defensive than I intended.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second. ¡°I¡ I apologize if I caused any offense, my Lord. It¡¯s just¡ªyou¡¯re half-Miralukan.¡±
Half? The thought rooted me in place. I always assumed¡
¡°What does that have to do with anything?¡± I pressed the growing knot in my stomach making my voice colder than before. ¡°Is there something wrong with me that I need to know, Doctor Rilos?¡±
She shook her head quickly. ¡°No! That¡¯s not it at all,¡± she assured me. ¡°It¡¯s just¡ you should be able to see naturally, at least with some difficulty or corrective surgery to adjust any irregularities. The procedure is typically done when very young, but¡ª¡±
¡°You want to fix my eyesight, is that it?¡± I bit out, cutting her off before she could finish. I just wanted to get out of here, not deal with all this. Who knew what nonsense an unsupervised HK-47 could get up to?
Her expression barely shifted, but I sensed her surprise, the small ripple of tension in her presence. ¡°Is there a reason why you haven¡¯t already?¡± she asked, then quickly added, ¡°Sir.¡±
A short laugh escaped me, bitter and quiet. ¡°I¡ I didn¡¯t know I could get them fixed.¡± The words left my lips before I could stop them. ¡°I assumed I was a pureblood.¡±
Maybe that¡¯s why I can see the way I do¡
¡°All your medical records are recent,¡± Rilos continued, clearly displeased by the lack of transparency. ¡°I would think the ones overseeing your physicals would have informed you.¡± There was an irritated edge to her voice, though not directed at me¡ªrather at whoever had intentionally kept this from me. ¡°But with how redacted much of it is, I was just curious.¡± She shrugged, as if to brush off the thought.
I exhaled a slow breath. ¡°You can fix them, then?¡± My finger pointed to one of my useless eyes, a small sliver of hope buried under skepticism.
Her response wasn¡¯t what I wanted to hear.
¡°Uh, well¡ not anymore.¡±
A burst of frustration lashed out before I could control it. ¡°Fuckin¡ª¡± Power rippled through the air, raw and unrestrained. The medical droid was pushed backward, its servos whining as it struggled to correct its balance. Papers fluttered off the nearby desk, a few loose objects clattering to the floor. My hands clenched into fists as I forced the anger back down, steadying my breathing. Controlled. Measured. ¡°So why ask me in the first place?!¡±
The tension in the room thickened. Rilos¡¯ presence shrank ever so slightly, her fear creeping at the edges of her otherwise calm demeanor. It was likely her first time seeing the Force used in such a way, and the realization that she was trapped in a small room with an irritated Inquisitor wasn¡¯t lost on her.
The droid finally spoke, its vocoder chirping as it recalibrated. ¡°A thin microbial membrane has covered your retinas and sclera. Plainly, your eyes are covered by a form of cataract that we are unsure of how to remove.¡±
Of course. Nothing was ever that simple.
I let out a controlled sigh, rubbing my temple before glancing back at the doctor. ¡°Anything else, Doc? I have a mission to get on with.¡±
Rilos shook her head. ¡°No, sir. Other than that, you are perfectly healthy.¡± She moved toward her terminal, inputting information with rapid keystrokes before stepping toward the exit. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you two alone. There are some fatigues that Captain Hal brought for you on the bed next to yours.¡±
The doors hissed open, and she half-sprinted out, leaving me and TK-421 alone in the quiet hum of the medical bay. The rhythmic beeping of monitoring equipment filled the space, the only noise between us.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet slapping lightly against the cold tile. As I pushed myself upright, My lips turned up into a knowing smile, sensing TK-421¡¯s lingering anxiety, his unspoken discomfort. ¡°Is she cute?¡± I asked, stretching out my stiff limbs.
The stormtrooper inhaled sharply through his nose, exhaling in that long, controlled way that told me I had successfully gotten under his skin. I chuckled, pulling the long shirt over my head. His embarrassment radiated off him like a beacon.
¡°Come on, man. Talk to me.¡± I tugged on the sleeves, making sure the fit was decent before turning toward him. ¡°You clearly talked to her, Captain Hal. Seriously, we¡¯ve worked together this long, and you never gave me your name.¡± I nudged him slightly with the Force for emphasis.
¡°You never asked,¡± he replied flatly.
That stung more than I expected. I had kept a deliberate distance from the guy the best I could for a reason. If I didn¡¯t know his name, just his rank and number, he was just another faceless soldier. Another body if he died. Another ghost in my mind. And yet, Hal had been there through enough of my missions that I should¡¯ve asked. I¡¯d gotten too comfortable with him, too friendly. He was an escape from the dreadful attitudes that surrounded my Brothers and Sisters.
¡°You got me there, Hal.¡± I gestured with my hand, pulling my boots toward me with the Force. The familiar tug of energy guided them to my hands, and I slid them on with practiced ease.
I stood and stretched, my muscles still stiff but no longer aching. With a quiet sigh, I glanced toward Hal, nodding toward the door. ¡°Lead the way. We need to get the murder machine.¡±
¡°Yes, sir,¡± he answered with his usual clipped efficiency. His armored boots stomped on the tile, and I followed behind, the doors sliding open with a smooth hiss.
Just before stepping through, I shot a little grin as I turned to look at the Captain. ¡°Did you at least get her frequency?¡±
Hal barely missed a step before muttering under his breath.
¡°Fuck you, Alonzo.¡±