Star Wars: Vergence IV, Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

 Black Hole Cantina, Fhost

“Gotta say, never thought I’d see you around here again,” Khedryn Faal said as he slammed his mug of ebla beer down onto the table. “Thought we’d seen the last of you after that time-traveling Jedi business.”

Jaden Korr smirked as he took a sip from his own drink. Two years ago, he had met the junk traders Khedryn Faal and Marr Idi-Shael when he had first visited Fhost to investigate the dreams and visions he had been having. Along with Toah Jarsan, they had explored an abandoned Imperial base on a frozen moon, ran into some mad Force-sensitive clones, and encountered a Jedi Knight who hailed from the distant past. After that, they had all gone their separate ways, with Khedryn and Marr returning to Fhost. 

Back then, Jaden had considered offering to help them find work with the Alliance, not only to help them pay off their debts but also to perhaps give Marr the chance to train at the Jedi Temple on Ossus; both he and Toah had sensed that the Cerean had potential in the Force. However, he had ultimately decided against it… which might had been for the best, given the current state the Alliance was in. In any case, given the jovial mood Khedryn seemed to be in, Jaden had to assume things were going well for him and Marr. Unless it was just the ebla beer talking.

“So,” Khedryn said, “what brings you all the way back here?”

“Same thing as before,” Jaden replied, setting down his drink. “Visions.”

“Uh-huh.” While Khedryn’s lazy eye did not move, his good one flickered briefly to Marr, who did not seem to catch the glance. “What kind of, uh, visions? They’re like dreams, right?”

“Of a sort,” Jaden said carefully, picking up on the tension that had suddenly entered the conversation. “They’re hard to put into words.”

Khedryn nudged Marr with his elbow and the Cerean let out a sigh before affixing his eyes on Jaden. “Do your visions involve someone with white eyes?”

Jaden felt a chill run down his spine, even though it felt pretty warm in the cantina itself. “How did you…?”

“Because I’ve been having them, too, ever since we returned to Fhost. It wasn’t that frequent at first—usually only happening once every other week. But lately they’ve become an almost daily occurrence. I don’t know what any of it means….”

“Neither do I.” Jaden grimaced as he leaned back in his seat, running a hand over the stubble forming at his chin. “I feel that it might be connected to that moon we went to. The one you had the coordinates for.”

“That frozen hellhole?” Khedryn groaned. “Don’t tell me you want to go back there.”

“I think I do, if only to get the answers I had gone there for in the first place. Those clones prevented me from getting any further than I did.”

“You don’t think they’ll still be there?” Marr asked.

“No,” Jaden said, only to think twice after he had spoken the word. He had not seen any of the clones since he had gone to Abeloth’s world two years ago, when Abeloth herself had taken over the body of the clone known as Seer. While Seer had vanished, the other clones had been left behind on Bastion, and Jaden had watched the clone of his former master Kyle Katarn get cut down by Imperial Knights. While he assumed the others had shared a similar fate, it was nothing more than that: an assumption.

Still, he did not say as much to the two scavengers, although he suspected Khedryn did not fully believe him anyway. Marr, of course, did not indicate his feelings one way or the other and Jaden did not try to scan his mind with the Force, knowing the Cerean would likely sense it.

Blowing out his breath, Khedryn leaned back in his seat and looked between Jaden and Marr. “So you’ve both been having these visions.” He did not phrase it as a question nor did he wait for any kind of response. “Look, as much as I don’t want to involve myself with your crazy Jedi stuff….” He tapped his fingers on the table, chewing his bottom lip. “If you think that going back to that moon will help you rest easier… and maybe help Marr as well… then who am I to deny you assistance?”

Jaden raised an eyebrow. “Actually, I was planning on buying the coordinates from you. I wasn’t expecting you to join me.”

“And let you go there all by yourself?” Khedryn snorted. “You would’ve died back there if it hadn’t been for Marr.”

“True,” Jaden admitted. “But like I said, I don’t think those clones will still be there.”

“But who knows what else might be there?” Khedryn leaned across the table and extended a hand. “Look, you can turn down my offer if you want. But I don’t think I could live with myself if I let you get yourself killed when I could’ve stopped it. So what do you say?”

Jaden only took a moment to consider the offer before reaching out and shaking Khedryn’s hand. “I say you’ve got a deal.” 

*  *  *

As soon as the Errant Venture had rendezvoused with the Wild Karrde in the Natalon system, Talon Karrde’s top slicer Zakarisz Ghent had gotten to work on deciphering the message Drakmos the Despised had transmitted to them, with Booster Terrik and Karrde himself hovering over him rock-vultures stalking their prey. To the surprise of all three men, the message had not carried any malicious data and most of the information it contained appeared to be genuine, based on what Karrde and his people had been able to corroborate.

“It says here that Gaar Tandoon has had transactions with the Countess of Canto Bight,” Ghent said as he scrolled through the data. “We’ve had some suspicions that these guys have been operating in the Corporate Sector.”

“That’s a connection anyone could make,” Booster Terrik grunted. “What else is there?”

“This Mikus fellow has had recent dealings with the Pyke Syndicate—that tracks with what we have on the Pykes’ recent movement in Bothan Space. There’s even stuff here on the Zygerrian Slavers Guild and something called the Society. No idea if we have anything on that….”

“Assuming it’s legit, it’s more than we’ve ever gotten so far,” said Talon Karrde. “Does it have anything on their operations in the Core Worlds?”

Ghent frowned in concentration. “Not much, I’m afraid. Nothing new to us, in any case. There’s mention of what happened on Corellia, of course, but other than that… wait.” The blue-haired Barolian suddenly leaned forward. “There’s an entry on Coruscant.”

Booster stormed over to stand at the slicer’s shoulder. “Well? Bring it up, boy! Don’t leave us in suspense.”

“It’s pretty bare bones,” Ghent admitted. “But there is mention of someone named Vixen.”

“We’ve got record of her,” said Karrde. “That Wallen fellow tried to track her down on Coruscant, before he started working with us, but didn’t get anywhere.”

Ghent smirked. “Did he get her number?”

Booster gripped his shoulder. “What?”

“We can give her a call right now and request her services. Pretty considerate of them to give that for us.”

Karrde leaned over Ghent’s shoulder to get a better look at the information himself. “We should make sure it’s legit,” he muttered.

“You’re not seriously thinking about calling it, are you?” Booster asked, shooting him a look.

Karrde gave him a lopsided grin in return. “Hey, I’m a lonely man. I could use the company.”

“Shada not good enough for you?”

Ghent shook his head. “You guys are weird. Old and weird.”

Booster clapped his shoulder. “Just give it a few more decades, son. You’ll be right here with us soon enough.”

“I’ll try to contain my excitement.”

*  *  *

While the rest of the Renegades passed the time indulging themselves with the leisures the Errant Venture had to offer, Valrisa found Typha in the room they shared aboard the Renegade. The Pantoran woman laid on the bunk, her golden eyes glued to the ceiling, her blue face a blank slate. Valrisa leaned in the doorway, arms folded over her chest, and stared at her partner, hoping to catch her eye. After what felt like forever, Typha’s eyes briefly flickered to meet Valrisa’s before returning their focus to the ceiling, which was apparently much more interesting.

Sighing, Valrisa said, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Typha said in the most unconvincing manner imaginable.

“I can tell when something is bothering you. And I don’t need the Force for that.”

The Pantoran chewed on her lip and continued to avoid eye contact. She did not move even as Valrisa walked into the room and sat down on the bunk next to her. Finally, Typha closed her eyes and blew out her breath.

“Do you know how I started working for the Cabal?”

Valrisa shook her head. The question had crossed her mind before but she had never given it enough thought to ask. “I don’t believe it’s ever come up.”

Typha slowly drew herself up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I lived on Pantora for most of my life until I was nineteen, right when the Glorian War broke out. My father was a high-ranking official in the Pantoran Assembly and was on the path of becoming Chairman. When it came down between him and his rival in the polls, he tried to bribe his way into office by marrying me off to the Speaker. I refused and ended up fleeing on a transport that had just dropped off refugees from Alzoc. I stowed away on ships for a time before making my way to Trigalis. That was where I met a man named Trask Moran.”

For some reason, that name sounded familiar to Valrisa, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “And he was with the Cabal?” she asked.

“No, but he worked for someone who did. Or would. I’m not sure if the Cabal was even a thing at that point yet, what with Black Sun still being around.” Typha’s shoulders heaved as she let out a shaky sigh. Then, in a quiet voice, she said, “Have you ever heard of the Society?”

“No?”

“Then you don’t know how the Cabal really works or where it stems from. Every alliance, every union, has its core, and the Society is the Cabal’s core.”

Valrisa blinked in surprise at this. After all these years, she thought she had a pretty good grasp on the Cabal and its machinations. It had never crossed her mind that her partner, who had already been with the Cabal when she joined, would know more about it than she did.

Before she could ask her partner to elaborate on this further, Typha finally turned her head to look at Valrisa, and the other woman felt her heart sink as she saw the haunting look in her partner’s golden eyes.

“I’ve seen things I should never have seen,” the Pantoran said with a croak. “I’ve done things I should never have done. If Booster or Karrde or even Kyla find out about the things I did from what Drakmos has sent them… you might as well consider me space debris now, because there’s no chance in nine Corellian hells that they’re going to let me walk on any of their ships alive. If I could turn back the clock and change time….”

Valrisa swallowed hard as she wrapped an arm around Typha’s shoulder and pulled her close. “But then you wouldn’t have met me.”

This brought a small smile to Typha’s lips. “True. I suppose it wasn’t all bad….”

With her other hand, Valrisa ran her fingers through the Pantoran’s pink hair. “I don’t suppose you want to talk about those things you did with this ‘Society?’”

“No.” Typha buried her face in Valrisa’s shoulder. “I just want you to hold me.”

Valrisa saw no reason to argue with that.

Ord Talavos

“I trust that you know what you are doing.”

Drakmos the Despised huffed as he stormed up to his throne, his Tiss’shar guards and Chistori assassin following close behind him. “I always do.”

“If they act on the information you have given them, Malvis is going to notice that there has been a data breach,” the Chistori went on, sharpening her knife. “Eventually, he is going to suspect you.”

“That is the idea, Greshna,” Drakmos snarled, lowering himself onto the stone seat. “I want Malvis to notice. I want him to see that I am challenging him.”

“Why not do so outright?”

“And where would the fun be in that?” The Despised One gave his assassin a toothy grin. “Besides, Malvis and his ilk are about deceit. The best way to beat him—the most satisfying way—is at his own game.”

If Greshna had any other reservations, she did not voice such doubts and kept them from her reptilian face. Moments later, the doors to the throne room once more and a squat, bow-legged Xamster came waddling into the room, his splayed, four-toed feet puttering on the stone floor.

“Despised One!” the small creature squawked. “While you were away, someone came here and asked for your presence!”

Drakmos narrowed his eyes at the Xamster. “Who were they?”

“I didn’t get their name, but they said they were on Malvis’s behalf!” The Xamster paused to catch his breath, panting heavily. “They said… they said that Malvis wants to host another gathering… here in Vostal… to celebrate our victory.”

“Victory?”

“Yes. Senator Valrisa… he is set to win the election in the coming days. The Galactic Alliance… will be under the Cabal’s control.”

As he processed this information, Drakmos leaned back in his throne, his expression contemplative as he steepled his clawed fingers. Greshna watched him carefully, a questioning look in her narrowed eyes.

Finally, after a long moment, Drakmos peeled back his lips to reveal his fangs… and he let out a hearty laugh.

“Yes.” His voice thundered against the walls of the chamber, his wings expanding to span the entire width of the throne room. “Victory.”

Star Wars: Vergence IV, Chapter Five

 CHAPTER FIVE

Resistance Base, D’Qar

As soon as Toah and Rey had arrived at the Resistance Base on D’Qar, Finn was already waiting for them at one of the base’s exposed landing areas, having been alerted to their arrival ahead of time. Judging by the cagey way the young man was acting, in subtle ways that only Force-sensitives such as himself and Rey would notice, Toah could tell that Finn had not yet told anyone else about the droid. Even the words he greeted them with made it clear that he was trying to keep things secret.

“I’m glad you guys could make it,” Finn had said to them. “Come on; I’ve got the parts in one of the storage rooms.”

The two Jedi followed him into the Resistance’s underground base and bypassed the command center by heading a deserted hallway. As soon as they were outside earshot of anyone else, whether they be droid or living being, Finn turned around to give Toah and Rey a slightly annoyed look.

“I was wondering when you two would finally get here,” he said in a hushed tone. “People have been giving me strange looks for constantly coming back here to check on it.”

“Do they know about the droid?” Toah asked.

“General Organa does. I told her that the Naboo security captain let me have it to use for parts. She seemed to accept that story.”

“Seemed to,” Toah said dryly. “You do know she has Jedi training, right?”

Finn shook his head. “I’m not going to even pretend I understand that Force thing you guys use.”

“You seem to have a connection to it yourself when you summoned Master Maren’s lightsaber to you back on Lothal.”

“I don’t know what happened back on Lothal,” Finn snapped, looking at Toah with a fiery look in his eyes. “I don’t even want to think about it. Right now, I just want to focus on the here and now.”

With that, he turned back around and continued to walk down the corridor, this time taking swift strides to create some distance between him and the Jedi.

Looking over to Toah, Rey said, “Those stormtroopers we faced back on Lothal were some of his friends. He grew up with them. They were like family.”

“I see,” Toah murmured. “Still, it’s undeniable that he has a connection to the Force. Perhaps he could use some training.”

“We’re here,” Finn’s voice came from up ahead. Once Toah and Rey had joined him, he opened the door to a storage closet, revealing a small room full of droid parts. The only complete droid was the one they had encountered on Naboo, its multiple appendages tangled together as it sat there in a heap on the floor. Stepping over to it, Finn flipped a switch on the back of the droid’s head and 11-4D’s photoreceptors glowed back to life.

“Where am I?” the droid asked.

“That’s not important right now,” Finn said. He gestured to Rey, who stepped into the droid’s line of sight. “You said you know where her parents are. We’re listening.”

“I never said I knew where her parents are,” 11-4D replied. “I said I know where to find them.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Not in the strictest sense of term, if you want to be semantic.” Focusing its optical sensors on Rey, the droid said, “Do you know what your parents did?”

“I… no,” Rey said, shaking her head. “It’s been too long. I only have vague memories of them.”

“They were junk traders by the names of Dathan and Miramir. I worked as a navigator and medical droid aboard their ship.”

“That’s strange,” Rey murmured. “I don’t remember a droid….”

“But I remember you,” 11-4D said. “I was there for your birth, assisting your mother as she gave birth to you. I was there for every moment of your life… until your parents sold me.”

“Sold you?”

“Yes, they were in dire financial straits and needed the credits. They found a junk dealer named Jonkar Ludd on Ronyards and sold me to him for over a hundred thousand credits. He kept me in his possession for several years before selling me to a Naboo nobleman.”

Rey frowned. “So you don’t know what happened to me or them after that?”

“No. But Jonkar Ludd might, if he still lives.”

“How long ago were you sold to him?” asked Finn.

“Approximately twenty-one years ago, if my memory banks serve me.”

Toah rubbed his chin. “Ronyards… I’ve heard that’s a planet inhabited mainly by droids. I wouldn’t think any living beings lived there, let alone be allowed to run a droid-selling market by its ‘people.’”

“I must confess that I have little data on Ronyards itself in my databanks,” 11-4D said. “I know very little of the planet outside of what I have already told you.”

“Where even is Ronyards?” Finn asked.

“It is located in the Inner Rim Territories, along the Hydian Way.”

“What are we waiting for then?” Rey said, stepping away from the droid and turning to head out. “Let’s go to Ronyards—”

“Hang on.” Toah raised a hand to stop her. “We should get General Organa’s approval for this mission.”

“And if she says no?”

“Then that will be that, and the search for your parents will have to wait.”

Defiance blazed in Rey’s hazel eyes as she folded her arms over her chest. “Why did we come all the way here then?”

“Because I knew we would be needed here again soon. And because I thought the droid would actually give you closure,” Toah added with a pointed look at 11-4D.

Rey opened her mouth to speak, but before she could deliver any objection, the three of them heard footsteps coming from down the hallway, followed by a female voice.

“Is someone down here?”

Finn quickly switched 11-4D off and shoved the droid into the corner of the storage closet. He and the Jedi then stepped out and closed the door just as a woman with short black hair came from around the corner. 

Regarding the three with skeptical brown eyes, the woman said, “What are you guys doing down here?”

“Ah, we were just getting a hydromop,” Finn said before either of the Jedi could speak. “There was some spilled water over here so we cleaned it up. Wouldn’t want any of the generals slipping on it.”

“Oh,” the woman said, eyebrows knitting in confusion as she seemed to look for wherever the water may have been.

“But we took care of it,” Finn went on. “It’s all good now. We’re fine. How are you? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I’m… doing fine,” the woman said tentatively. “My name’s Rose. Rose Tico. Head of Engineering. And you would be?”

“Finn. I’m new around here.”

“Yeah, I could… I could tell.” Rose then looked over to Toah and Rey, eying their Jedi apparel. “I take it you two are Jedi?”

“Yes, I am Jedi Knight Toah Jarsan, and this is my apprentice Rey. We were with General Organa on Naboo not so long ago.”

Rose’s face lit up at this. “Oh! That’s right. She’s actually been waiting for your return.”

Toah raised an eyebrow. “Is she expecting us?”

“Yes. She’s at the command center. I can take you to her.”

Toah nodded and motioned for Rose to lead the way. As they started to follow her, he glanced over at Rey. She met his eyes with an expression that still carried a hint of defiance. He sent a message to her through the Force, imploring for her patience, before looking away.

*  *  *

“Our agent was sent to Coruscant right after the First Order had taken control of the Ojoster sector,” General Leia Organa was saying, standing before a holographic display of the planet in question with her gathered generals and advisors. “They were supposed to gather intelligence on what the Alliance is doing there and give us an idea as to how much influence, if any, that the First Order or the Malvis Cabal currently has over the Senate. They were supposed to report back a few days ago but we haven’t anything from them. Given the current situation—especially after what happened back on Naboo—we are more than a bit worried about them.”

Toah Jarsan nodded, taking everything in with a stoic expression. “This is a rescue mission then, I take it?”

“If it needs to be,” said General Joma Helricks. “We don’t know what predicament our agent is currently in; they could be dead, for all we know. What we want you to do is to find out what happened to them and to extract them from Coruscant if necessary.”

“And you need a Jedi specifically?”

“Yes,” Leia said. “Because our agent is a Jedi. If something has happened to them, then it is most likely something that most of our operatives aren’t trained to deal with. However, I have faith in you and your apprentice, Toah.”

A scowl started to form on General Helricks’s face. “I personally think our agents are more than capable of handling things that Jedi cannot….”

“I am aware of your feelings on the matter, General,” Leia replied to her. “But I’ve known Toah for some time now. I would trust him with my life.”

“Because he’s your brother’s student,” Helricks stated.

Leia ignored the comment as she returned her attention to Toah. “I trust you and your Padawan can handle this?”

“Of course,” Toah said. “Do you have any information on this agent? Their name, their appearance?”

Helricks handed him a datapad. “Everything you need will be on this encrypted device. It will decode itself within the time it will take you to reach Coruscant, if you leave as soon as possible, and it will wipe itself clean as soon as you’ve read it.”

“Is their information that sensitive?”

“Everything is considering who we’re dealing with,” Helricks said darkly.

“Right,” Toah said. “In that case, we shall take our leave right now. Rey, go ahead and prepare the—”

He looked over to where he thought Rey had been standing, at his side, but saw nothing. Nor was Finn there, for that matter. He looked around the room, seeing only a perplexed Rose and other Resistance members milling about their business in the command center, before finally looking back at Leia and the other generals.

“Did anyone see them leave?” he asked.

Before anyone could answer him, he heard the distinct sound of a ship’s engines starting up and taking off.

“It would appear,” Leia said, “that she’s doing what you were going to ask of her.”

*  *  *

“Are we seriously doing this?”

“Yes,” Rey said as she sat in the pilot’s seat of the transport she and Toah had taken to D’Qar. “Do you know how to fly a ship?”

“No!” Finn replied.

“Okay, that’s fine.” She flipped a few switches. “I used to test fly ships for Unkar Plutt back on Jakku. This shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Shouldn’t be too—” Finn ran a hand over his face. “Did you have a plan for this that went beyond ‘sneak out without your Jedi Master knowing and do the opposite of what he told you?’”

“Look, I know how to fly out of a planet’s atmosphere, plot a course through hyperspace, and land on a planet. That’s all we need to do to get to Ronyards.”

“Oh yeah? Do you know how to even get there?”

“The droid said it was on the Hydian Way, right? Check the navigational computer. It should be on the map.”

Finn shook his head. “This is crazy. I don’t know why I let you drag me into this. People here are already wary of me as it is, being an ex-stormtrooper and all.”

“I won’t stop you if you want to get off,” Rey said.

Finn was silent for a long moment as he studied the navigational computer. Finally, he said, “All right. Found it. Ronyards, grid N-Thirteen.”

“There. See? What did I tell you?”

The transport shuddered as it began to lift up from the platform.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Finn muttered.

“Are you always this morose?” Rey asked.

“Only when people give me a reason to be.”

Within moments, the transport was taking off and heading up into D’Qar’s sky. Rey had half the mind to glance out the viewport, to see if Toah had sensed or noticed their departure and come out to stop them. But she decided against it and focused her mind on piloting the ship through the planet’s atmosphere, watching the blue sky fade into black space. As the transport already had a transmitting clearance code, none of the ships in orbit stopped them as they passed the security perimeter. Once Finn had set in the coordinates, she pulled the hyperdrive lever and the stars stretched out as they jumped to lightspeed.

Star Wars: Valorum (Rewrite)

    A major rewrite of a short story I wrote for Destiny all the way back in 2012-2013.

VALORUM

Coruscant, c. 21 BBY

Supreme Chancellor Palpatine sipped from his cup of karlini tea as he stared out the wide expansive window of his office. Night had fallen in Galactic City, illuminated by the lights of skyscrapers and passing airspeeders. It was a sight he had always enjoyed since he had first come to Coruscant, and the view that the Chancellor’s Suite provided him was one he had prided himself in for the last decade.

Today had produced many results. Not only had the Senate succeeded in passing the Enhanced Security and Enforcement Act, giving him power that far extended those historically held by the office of Supreme Chancellor, but the nuisance that had been his predecessor Finis Valorum had been eliminated, one of the many casualties of the Separatists’ terrorist attack on the Star of Iskin. At least, that was how the Senate and the rest of the public saw the attack, but that was the only way they needed to see it. Regardless, it had been enough to convince even those who had been ambivalent on the bill to vote in its favor. Yes, there were outliers such as Senators Organa and Mothma, but they were never going to be swayed. So long as they remained few in number, they posed little threat to him.

As he swiveled around in his chair to set his cup down on his desk, the doors to his office opened to allow Vice Chair Mas Amedda in. The Chagrian’s blue face was as stoic as always and the long twin horns extending from his cranium gave him an imperious look. It was a useful appearance for directing the Senate in heated debates but hardly enough to rule over the Republic itself, as much as Amedda may have wanted it. It had been many years since the galaxy had seen a non-human Chancellor and Palpatine knew that there would not be one anytime soon. 

Still, he could not help but pity his Vice Chancellor’s pitiful and ironic existence. There had been a time, as recent as a few years ago, that Mas Amedda would have considered Finis Valorum to be a friend. Despite having been appointed to his position by the Rim Faction for the sole purpose of bogging Valorum down with pointless squabbles and weakening his grip over the Senate, Amedda had come to respect the beleaguered Chancellor for his headstrong attitude and genuine desire to restore the Republic to the glory it had enjoyed under the leadership of his ancestors. The Chagrian had even gone as far as to foil an assassination attempt against Valorum during his short tenure as the Chancellor’s Vice Chair.

And today, at the behest of the man he now served under, Mas Amedda had played a role in killing the man he had once protected all those years ago.

If it bothered Amedda, the Chagrian did not show it. Had he been asked to do it six years ago, he would have possibly balked at the request and perhaps even report it to the Senate. But ever since Palpatine had revealed his true nature and plans for the Republic to him, Amedda had devoted himself to bringing about the New Order that Palpatine envisioned and was more than willing to forgo everything he had once stood for as well as his friendships, including the one he once had with Valorum.

If only everyone could be as malleable as Mas Amedda. Perhaps then, Palpatine would already be Emperor by now.

As Amedda approached the Chancellor’s desk, a datapad in his hand, Palpatine smiled warmly at his pawn. “What news do you have to bring me at this late hour, my friend?”

“A letter just arrived from Senator Organa’s office,” Amedda replied, tone clipped and formal as always. “He proposes that a statue for the late Finis Valorum should be installed at the Chancellery Walkway in the Jrade District.”

Palpatine raised an eyebrow. “Is that all? I was expecting something in regards to the Security Act. Although I shouldn’t be too surprised; after all, Valorum and Organa had been exchanging words before his… tragic passing.”

Amedda nodded once, his stony face a blank slate. Palpatine studied him for a brief moment, using the Force to peer into his mind and scour for the slightest hint of remorse. A cursory scan produced nothing, which was satisfactory enough for him.

After feigning contemplation for a moment, Palpatine finally said, “I suppose there is no harm in such a memorial, although I’m not sure others in the Senate have such a high opinion of Valorum as Organa does. Historically, the Walkway has been reserved for influential Chancellors, such as Eddicus, Soh, Mezzileen, even Valorum’s own ancestor Tarsus. I’m not sure dear Finis can be held in such a regard.”

“How would you like to respond, then?”

“Tell Senator Organa that I would be more than happy to install a monument memorializing my predecessor. But it can wait until morning; right now, I believe we have earned a night’s rest.”

As Palpatine rose from his seat, the doors opened again and an older man in elegant maroon robes came striding into the room. Mas Amedda barely hid a scowl of distaste from his face; the one-sided rivalry between him and Sate Pestage was not at all lost on Palpatine. As Pestage was one of Palpatine’s most trusted advisers and designated spokesperson, the Chagrian no doubt saw him as a threat to his position as Vice Chancellor. While Palpatine had no plans on replacing Amedda any time soon, he had elected to not provide the Vice Chair with any words of reassurance; it was far more amusing to watch the two of them clash for his approval.

Naturally, Palpatine saw this as an opportune time to add fuel to the fire. “Pestage, my old friend,” he greeted the other man enthusiastically. “I must commend you for your performance today. Thanks to your actions, the Security Act passed successfully and the Republic is now safer and stronger than—”

“Valorum is still alive,” Pestage interjected.

All mirth, fabricated or otherwise, faded from Palpatine’s face and he stared at Pestage with his mouth still agape. “What?” he uttered in a deadly whisper.

“My spies spotted him in the lower levels of Uscru District hours after the incident,” Pestage went on. “Apparently he was not on the freighter when it exploded.”

Palpatine’s eyes narrowed into slits, his lips forming a thin line. “Yet they said they saw him boarding the Star of Iskin….”

“Yes, Chancellor. Right now, we can only speculate what happened. Either Valorum got off at the last moment or he might have used a body double—”

“Wild speculation is of no use to me,” Palpatine snapped. “I want your agents to find Valorum and eliminate him before he tries to get off planet again. Once they’ve done that, I want them to hold onto his body until I can see it for myself.”

“As you wish,” Pestage replied. “Where shall I have them keep his body?”

“The LiMerge Building will do.”

“Then by your will, it shall be done.”

With that, Pestage swiftly departed from the Chancellor’s office. Mas Amedda followed suit not long after, realizing that he no longer had any role in this operation. Left alone once more, Palpatine turned to face the window again and stare out into the Coruscanti night.

Clearly, the day was far from over. 

*  *  *

As soon as Pestage had reported that Valorum had been found and “dealt with,” Palpatine had excused himself from his office and took his private shuttle to the Works, Coruscant’s immense industrial sector. It was there that his secret hideout at the LiMerge Building was located, where he—as the Dark Lord of the Sith Darth Sidious—conspired with his minions and moved the pieces necessary towards fulfilling the Sith’s Grand Plan. The route the shuttle took was a long and winding one, designed to throw off any potential pursuers. It also gave Darth Sidious the opportunity to contemplate and reflect, which Valorum’s unexpected survival had certainly given him cause to do so.

He considered if he had perhaps underestimated his predecessor. While the Valorums had once been a respected Republic dynasty, their power had wilted in the past few centuries and indeed had not been seen since the chancellorship of Eixes Valorum. Finis, on the other hand, had constantly lived in the shadows of his others, whether it be his ancestors or allied families such as the Kalpanas or the Tarkins. Indeed, had it not been for his name and the powerful connections that came with it, Finis would have been laughed off by the members of the Senate and would not have come within an arm’s reach of the chancellorship.

But perhaps there was more to Valorum than Sidious had previously considered. After all, he had won a second term against all odds, in spite of his declining popularity. Yes, it was likely he had tugged at the same strings that he had pulled in order to get himself elected in the first place… but Sidious could not help if there had been more to it than just that. Both he and his master Darth Plagueis had simply seen Valorum as a useful tool, and his reelection had done little more than to serve their plans. But what if they had not been studying Valorum as closely as they should have?

Sidious recalled a tale Plagueis had once told him, some twenty years prior. It was said that during the Republic’s Dark Age a millennium ago, a family of Force-users had arisen to brief prominence. Known as the Valor family, their members consisted of mostly Jedi save for one; a man named Espaa Valor, who joined the Sith Order of Darth Mortilus and dubbed himself Valorum, Knight of the Sith. What fate befell this Valorum, and whether or not he had actually existed, was lost as a result of Darth Mortilus’s Great Purge. When a man named Tarsus Valorum rose to prominence a century later, no one had been able to feasibly connect him to the fabled Sith Knight—not even the Sith themselves.

When Plagueis had told this story to Sidious, in response to Finis Valorum’s recent prominence thanks to his involvement in the Stark Hyperspace War, the Muun Sith Master had merely presented it as a curious tale rather than to indicate that the young Senator Valorum was a descendant of a Sith. Indeed, Sidious had dismissed the story and had since then viewed Valorum as nothing more than a tool. But now that his predecessor had somehow found a way to foil his plan to assassinate him, he could not help but wonder if there was more substance to the story than either he or Plagueis had suspected.

When his shuttle finally arrived at the LiMerge Building, swooping into the hangar bay and slowly touching down on the rusted durasteel floor, Sidious could see through the viewport that two hooded individuals were already waiting for him with what could only be the body of Finis Valorum. The former chancellor’s body was limp and unmoving, his head hanging low, leading Sidious to infer that his assassins had at least succeeded in finally killing their target.

As he stepped down the lowered ramp of his shuttle, Sidious got a better look at one of the two hooded individuals. His dark, leathery skin identified him as a Weequay and Sidious knew this to be the former Jedi Master Sora Bulq, one of the Dark Acolytes in the service of Sidious and his apprentice Darth Tyranus. It had been Bulq who, through the middle-man Senator Viento, arranged for the attack on the Star of Iskin, which itself had been orchestrated from higher up by Sate Pestage and Mas Amedda. The entire plot had had a number of layers, making it even more perplexing to Sidious that it had not gone entirely as planned.

Bowing his head to the Dark Lord, Sora Bulq said, “The Anzat assassin tracked Valorum down to the lower levels and finished him off. I have already sent her off with her payment.”

“Is he dead?” Sidious asked, eying Valorum’s unmoving body.

Bulq nodded to the other hooded individual and they dropped Valorum’s body to the floor, rolling him onto his back. Sidious was met with lifeless blue eyes and a ghastly face frozen in fatal shock. Blood had dried up underneath his nose and formed a crimson layer of crust above his upper lip. The Dark Lord could only imagine that the former chancellor’s murderer had killed him via the Anzati’ preferred method of draining their victims of their “soup.”

“I suppose that settles it then,” Sidious said lightly. “Excellent work. I will leave it to you to dispose of his body.”

“My lord, if I may,” the other hooded individual spoke up.

Sidious turned to them and got his first good look of the mysterious figure. Their hood covered up most of their face, not unlike how Sidious’s hid his own, but the Dark Lord could still make out the pale, ashen face of a human male. It only took Sidious a moment to identify the man as Cronal, a member of the Prophets of the Dark Side. Not so long ago, Sidious had rediscovered the ancient dark side cult on Dromund Kaas and recruited them to his cause. Cronal in particular had attracted his interest and he had tasked the Prophet with creating dark side experiments, much like Plagueis himself had before his tragic demise. Sidious knew that Pestage had summoned Cronal here to Coruscant for matters related to the Prophet’s macabre creations; no doubt he had managed to weasel his way into becoming involved in the plot against Valorum. He would be someone to keep an eye on, Sidious knew that for sure.

Regarding Cronal carefully from beneath the rim of his hood, Sidious said, “What is it?”

“I was wondering if I could perhaps use this man’s body for my… experiments.”

Sidious raised an eyebrow, although it could not be seen by Cronal. “And what possible use could be found in a dead man’s body?”

“Many things, my lord,” Cronal humbly replied. “Things that have perhaps never before been dreamt of. The dark side is, as you say, a pathway to many unnatural things.”

Sidious could not help but smile. He knew there was a reason Cronal had intrigued him so; the two of them were alike in so many ways. Which also made Cronal a potential threat to his future rule, moreso than even the Supreme Prophet himself. He would need to be broken in order to ensure his dedicated loyalty, that much the Dark Lord was certain. Still, he sensed no ill-intent against him on Cronal’s part, and he did need to get Valorum’s off Coruscant somehow….

“Very well,” Sidious said after a moment. “You may take the body to Dromund Kaas. Do what you will with it, so long as it does not distract you from the work I have given you.”

Cronal grinned, genuine elation lighting up his ashen face. “Thank you, my lord. I will not disappoint you.”

“See to it that you don’t,” Sidious said darkly. “For your sake.” 

Dromund Kaas

Finis Valorum awoke with an agonized scream, his pained cries reverberating against the walls of the dark chamber he found himself within. His body lurched upward only to be pushed back down by a cold metal hand pressing down on his bare chest. His arms were pulled down and locked into restraints attached to the medical slab he was laying on, while a larger one was closed around his waist, securing him in place.

“Where am I?” he screamed into the darkness, unable to see who or what was surrounding him.

“Calm yourself,” a cold voice answered in response. A figure moved in the shadows and Valorum could barely make out what appeared to be an old man dressed in black robes. “You are safe here. There is no need for you to fret.”

Valorum gawked at the mysterious figure standing in front of him. “P-Palpatine?” he whispered. “Is that… is that you?”

A mirthless cackle greeted his ears. “No, but good guess. My name is Cronal. I am the reason you are alive.”

“What happened?” Valorum asked, confusion subsiding his initial fear and shock. “The woman… the Anzat… I thought I was dead.”

“You remember, then? You remember what happened to you, who you are?”

“Of course I do. I am Finis Valorum, Supreme—former Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. I remember… I remember getting off the Star of Iskin before it took off, before it exploded. I remember going into the lower levels and running into that Anzat woman….”

“What about before then? Your life prior to becoming Chancellor.”

Valorum racked his brain; such memories were admittedly foggy. He had been through so much, after all. “I… I was born on Coruscant fifty-six years before the Great ReSynchronization. I served as Senator of the Lytton sector and a member of Chancellor Kalpana’s administration. I remember the Stark Hyperspace War… my election to chancellorship… the Yinchorri Uprising… the Eriadu Trade Summit… the Invasion of Naboo… my removal from office….”

“Excellent,” said Cronal. He raised his head to look at someone else that Valorum could not see; no doubt the owner of the metal hand, if he were to presume. “It would appear the memory imprinting was a success.”

“It is too early to tell,” growled a voice that sent chills down Valorum’s spine. “The process is still a new one, untested. Previous subjects have been known to decline in mental stability, resulting in insanity.”

“I am aware,” Cronal replied. “Which is why I want to test the armor on him.”

“Your faith in that abhorrent creation of yours will be your undoing.”

Cronal chuckled. “You are one to talk, are you not, Zeta Magnus? There is a reason I designed it after yourself.”

“Your pithy tributes mean nothing to me,” Zeta Magnus snarled back. “It is fortunate that the Dark Lord sees you as a valuable asset. Otherwise, I would not hesitate in devouring you for your words alone.”

“Truly, a man after my own heart,” Cronal said, a hint of irony in his voice. To a third unseen figure, he said, “Prepare the armor.”

Suddenly, Valorum felt the medical slab raise up as the restraints around his wrists and waist released him from their hold. He nearly fell to the floor only to be caught by Cronal, who then began to walk him over to a tall crimson figure. As they approached, the figure shifted as panels opened up and expanded, revealing a cavity that was large enough for an average human male to fit in.

Valorum opened his mouth to vocalize some form of protest but no words came out as a pair of metal appendages lowered from the ceiling and clamped over his shoulders. They hoisted him up, over the suit of armor, before slowly lowering him into it. Once he was in place, the mechanical arms retracted and the suit began to close up around him. A third appendage then lowered with a helmet between its clamps, situated to place it over the former chancellor’s head. Valorum’s eyes darted to Cronal, standing in front of him to admire his handiwork, and once more opened his mouth to say something. Any words he was about to speak died on his lips as the helmet covered his head and locked securely into place.

Within the dark confines of the helmet, Valorum heard a dark voice speak into his head. “Do you know who you are?” it whispered to him.

“I am Finis Valorum,” he answered, almost automatically.

“No,” it said to him. “You are Atha Prime.”

“No,” Valorum objected, albeit not as strongly as he had hoped it would sound. “I am Finis Valorum—”

“You are Atha Prime.” 

“I am Finis—”

“You are Atha Prime.”

“I am Finis—”

“We are Atha Prime.”

“I am—”

“We are—”

A pair of red lights lit up in the visor of the armor’s helmet. They found Cronal, who regarded his creation with a sense of paternal pride.

“I,” the metal monstrosity once known as Finis Valorum spoke for the first time, its deep voice reverberating against the walls of the dark chamber, “am Atha Prime.”

FINIS

Star Wars: Vergence IV, Chapter Four

 CHAPTER FOUR

Ord Talavos, eight years ago

“Hmm. Not exactly the most ideal location, but I suppose it will do.”

Drakmos watched as the spindly limbed Pa’lowick paced around in his chamber, tapping away on the device in his hands. It took everything within him to not grab the pathetic creature and hurl him out the balcony that was only a few feet away. Sal Tyrius observed the Pa’lowick from the other side of the room, his white eyes occasionally darting to Drakmos. Each glance carried a silent appeasement, suggesting to Drakmos that this was unfortunately normal and that there was not much either of them could do about it.

Running a hand along the stony wall, the Pa’lowick said, “The architecture of this facility is rather… archaic. Dare I say primitive. When was it constructed?”

“This fortress has stood for over a thousand years,” Drakmos snarled. “Even after the Jedi and the Sith destroyed the rest of Vostal in their war, it has continued to stand strong.”

“A simple number would have sufficed. I didn’t ask for a history lesson.” With a haughty sounding huff, the Pa’lowick spun around on his heel to face Tyrius. “As archaic and primitive as it may be, this building should be adequate for our operations. Once I get Malvis’s approval, I will begin reallocating resources to this planet.”

“Do so as quietly and covertly as you can, Orbego,” Tyrius warned him. “I may be Prince Xalren’s top lieutenant but even I can only do so much to keep this hidden from him.”

“Believe me, Xalren wouldn’t be able to notice us if he had a pair of macrobinoculars strapped to his face.”

With those words, the Pa’lowick marched out of the chamber. As soon as he was gone, Drakmos rose from his throne and stormed over to Tyrius.

“You should pray that I do not end up regretting my decision to agree to this,” the Despised One growled. “I only agreed to align with this Malvis individual to get myself out of Xalren’s thumb; I will not trade one overbearing guest for another!”

“Trust me, Malvis is generally hands-off when it comes to his associates,” Tyrius replied. “The process of joining his Cabal is only grueling because of the fact that he won’t let just anyone join. There are many criteria that need to be met.”

“I still fail to see why my domain needs to be assessed as part of that ‘process.’”

Tyrius shrugged. “Who knows why Malvis does what he does. This could also just be something Orbego is doing on his own accord. He likes to stick his proboscis in other people’s business.”

Drakmos bared his sharpened teeth. “I am only willing to put up with that for so long.”

“Well, if you’re serious about joining the Cabal, you will have to tolerate it for a little longer. Once your membership is finalized, I assure you that you will be left to your devices.”

“Let us hope,” Drakmos said darkly, “for both our sakes, that you are correct. Otherwise, Prince Xalren will have to pick up the pieces of his top lieutenant on every corner of the city.”

Tyrius smiled back at him with an equal lack of mirth. “Charming, to the last.”

The Errant Venture, now

“Have they done anything so far?” Booster Terrik asked as he and the rest of his entourage stepped onto the bridge of the Errant Venture. As soon as he had received Jast Kyjar’s alert about the Cabal ships’ arrival, he had recalled everyone back to the crimson Star Destroyer. Valrisa had no idea anyone his age could move so quickly, and even she and the other Renegades needed to quicken their pace to keep up with him as they followed him onto the bridge.

Standing at the helm of the ship when they had arrived, Jast Kyjar watched the stationary Cabal ships with a wary expression. “Nothing,” the Tarisian smuggler said. “They haven’t even made contact with us. We tried hailing them but no response.”

“They’re toying with us,” Booster grunted, folding his arms. “They know they’ve got us outnumbered and outgunned. I’ve seen this tactic plenty of times.”

“What do we do then?” asked Kyla Kishanti, standing nearby with the rest of the Renegades. Most of them in any case; Kadar and Vessin had elected to stay behind on Takodana, saying that they had found an alternative means of transportation. Valrisa currently wasn’t in much of a state of mind to ponder their absence.

“We wait,” Booster said to Kyla. “We wait for them to make the first move. If we act first, it would spell the end for us.”

“And… how long is that going to take…?” asked Bedo.

Before Booster could reply, a Togruta crew member called up from the comm station. “Captain, they’re hailing us.”

“Well, that was fast,” Booster grunted in amusement. “Put them on.”

A moment later, the viewscreen situated over the bridge turned on and everyone present was greeted with the sight of a dragon-like being. Upon seeing him, Valrisa shifted uncomfortably.

“That would be Drakmos the Despised,” she muttered.

“Errant Venture,” the draconian figure growled. “You are in the presence of the Despised One himself, Drakmos the Second, ruler of Ord Talavos.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Despised One,” Booster said dryly. “What are you doing here at Takodana?”

“Do not bother acting coy with me, smuggler,” Drakmos snarled. “I know of everything that happens in this sector. I am fully aware of the fact that you and your ‘Smugglers’ Alliance’ have been making attempts to track me down. Rather than have you come to my doorstep, I decided to save you the trouble of having to find me. So here I am, Booster Terrik. What do you want of me?”

Booster narrowed his eyes at Drakmos. “You’re with the Malvis Cabal, are you not? You’ve been causing a fair share of trouble for us.”

“Have I? Because I don’t believe we’ve ever met before. I fail to see how my actions could possibly have affected you personally.”

“Now who’s acting coy?” Booster snapped. “You guys haven’t exactly been keeping a low profile recently. Need I remind you of what happened at Corellia?”

“I had no involvement in that,” Drakmos objected. “Believe it or not, not every member of the Cabal is in the know on everything it does… or even necessarily approves of everything it does.”

“Whatever. Point is, your Cabal has been causing us headaches and we’ve just about had enough of it.”

“I’m sure you have.” Drakmos paused for a moment, his golden eyes regarding Booster evenly. Valrisa made sure that she stayed as far out of the viewscreen’s visual range as she could, hoping that the Despised One would not see her.

Drakmos then leaned back in his seat, a gleam in his eyes. “Perhaps there is a way for us to make amends,” he said, forming a steeple with his clawed hands.

Booster arched an eyebrow. “Amends?”

“While I may not be involved in everything the Cabal does, my rank within the hierarchy provides me access to all the details. I can give you anything you want to know about the Cabal, in exchange for the promise that you will not disturb my planet.”

“And how do we know we can trust you?”

“You don’t,” Drakmos admitted. “You can take or leave any information I give you. But know that I am being sincere when I say that I will do anything to defend my homeworld should you intrude on it.”

“Don’t worry, I believe you on that.” Booster stroked his beard in contemplation for a moment. “All right. What can you give us?”

“I am transmitting an encrypted message from my ship to yours,” Drakmos replied. “I trust that the smugglers on your crew will be able to slice and decipher it. It will contain everything that I am able to give you.”

“Do I have your word that it isn’t a virus that will cripple my ship’s systems?”

“I doubt that my word will mean anything to you. But if it will make you feel safer, you may wait until after my ships have departed before giving it a look. Or you can send it to someone you trust. It matters not to me.”

Valrisa watched as Booster exchanged silent glances with Kyla and the rest of his advising team. She figured experienced smugglers like them operated on their own separate wavelength, as she had no idea what they were communicating to each other through their glances but it was clear that they had all understood what they were each thinking.

“Very well,” Booster finally said to Drakmos. “We’re ready to receive your transmission.”

Drakmos grinned. “An excellent choice.”

A few minutes later, the Togruta comm officer confirmed that the encrypted message had been received. Once Booster had relayed this to Drakmos, the dragon-like being bowed his head.

“Then we have nothing further to discuss. I wish you luck in your travels, Captain Terrik. Hopefully, for your sake, our paths never cross again.”

With that, his image vanished from the viewscreen. At the same time, the Cabal ships in front of the Errant Venture began to slowly turn around and jump to lightspeed, one by one. Only after the last ship—the largest one, most likely Drakmos’s—had zipped away did Valrisa and the others allow themselves to relax.

“See if you can transmit whatever Drakmos sent us to the Wild Karrde,” Booster ordered the Togruta officer. “I’m sure Ghent will be able to crack it.” 

“Do you think it might be bunk?” asked Kyla.

“It very well could be. Either way, I don’t know what this Drakmos fellow is playing at or what his game even is.” Booster paused before looking over at Valrisa, his one red cybernetic eye glowing slightly brighter than usual. “You’re our Cabal girl, aren’t you? Don’t suppose you could shed some light.”

Valrisa shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve only done a couple of jobs for him. He was always cordial enough—compared to the others, at least—and I never got much of an impression on him as a person. He does operate on Ord Talavos, but I never knew that was his homeworld or anything like that.”

“What about the other crime lords? Do you know anything about where they operate?”

“Mikus currently runs the Void Station,” Valrisa replied. “Gaar Tandoon likes to move around a lot, most likely out of paranoia, but he generally keeps to the Western Reaches. As for the others, I don’t know enough about them to really say. I don’t even know how many crime lords there are.”

“Sounds like we’re still in their neighborhood then,” Booster said. “Let’s rendezvous with the Wild Karrde first and get whatever Drakmos sent us cracked before we proceed any further.”

Valrisa and the other Renegades took this as their cue to leave as Booster and the rest of his command crew began to confer among themselves. Only Kyla remained behind, albeit reluctantly, as her status as captain of the Renegades dictated that she be present for any meetings Booster and his team had over matters such as this. Valrisa couldn’t help but give the Mirialan a sympathetic glance as she stepped onto the turbolift.

As soon as the doors closed and the lift started moving, Ace Ral’kre said, “We should probably tell Kadar and Vessin that we’ll be leaving the system soon.”

“Assuming they haven’t already left themselves,” muttered Wiskin.

“Must you be so pessimistic?” Ace chided him. “You’re sometimes worse than Bedo.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” piped up the Ortolan in question.

Valrisa tuned out their conversation, as was often the case whenever she was within hearing range of one of their spouts. She would have been lying to herself if she had said that she wasn’t starting to grow tired of it. Perhaps once they met up with Talon Karrde’s crew, she, Typha, and Zarin could take the opportunity to undertake a mission of their own, without the distracting presence of Kyla’s crew.

She absent-mindedly glanced at her Pantoran partner, expecting to see an annoyed expression that matched her own, but instead was met with a forlorn look. She reached out and brushed Typha’s hand with her own, prompting her partner to finally look over to her, gold eyes meeting dark ones.

Not wanting to speak lest the others overheard, Valrisa merely raised a single eyebrow in question. Typha responded with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

That was all Valrisa needed to know that something was wrong and needed fixing. And given her own track record, she was not at all sure that she would be able to fix it….