Star Wars: First Order of Business, Part 7

7: CHATEÂU VADER

 Vjun, 8005 C.R.C.

“Thank you for flying the Calrissian Express. Please make sure you have all of your belongings with you as you leave. And, if your name is Jaina Solo, be sure to blow a kiss to your handsome pilot.”

Anakin did not need to look at his sister to know that she was rolling her eyes. They were the first to leave the ship, followed closely by Chance and Jacen, as they stepped out onto the planet of Vjun.

The abandoned castle of Darth Vader loomed over them, its archaic exterior as ghastly and foreboding as Anakin remembered it. The skies were gloomy yet fortunately clear of any clouds, meaning that they wouldn’t have to worry about the acidic rainfalls that plagued the planet. Below the landing pad they were on, the surface of the planet was barren and desolate, a result of such hostile weather. Native foxes scrounged the land, sniffing for food, while pirate gulls squawked and chirped somewhere in the distance.

As Anakin took it all in, he felt Jaina come up to stand beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you going to be all right?” she asked softly.

Anakin closed his eyes and sighed. “I’ll be fine.”

Jacen and Chance had already walked past them and the two followed them as they entered the castle. Anakin shivered from the chill he immediately felt as the dark side washed over him. Pain and regret seemed to choke the air as he felt the anger and woes of his grandfather from years past through the Force. He glanced at Jaina and saw her own face twist with consternation, and although Jacen had his back to them, Anakin could feel his older brother’s own discomfort.

If Chance felt anything, he didn’t show it as he observed the details of the castle’s inner design. The structure had a mixture of ancient and modern technology. From what Anakin had learned from Master Tionne based on her research, the castle had been built long before the reign of the Empire and had been gifted to Darth Vader by House Bast. After Vader’s death, Bast Castle had been intermittently occupied by resurgent Imperials and splinter factions, the last known being the Emperor’s Mage Orloc whom Anakin, Tahiri, and Masters Tionne and Ikrit had encountered during their visit to Vjun six years ago. Since then, no one was known to have taken occupation in the dark side castle, and from the looks of it nobody had.

As Anakin dwelt more on his memories, he realized something was off. He recalled him and the others having to deal with the castle’s automated defenses and traps. However, this far in they had yet to encounter any of those things. Someone had to have deactivated them or else it would have been a struggle to so much as step inside.

Anakin was about to say something when Jacen suddenly brought the four of them to a stop. Chance nearly tripped over a loose stone as he did.

“What’s up?” the young Calrissian asked.

“Quiet,” Jacen whispered. “I hear something.”

Anakin closed his eyes and focused. Next to him, Jaina said, “I hear it, too. It sounds like… voices.”

“No,” Jacen said. “Just one voice. Like a monologue. Almost like… a lecture?”

“Great,” Chance muttered. “We’ve stumbled upon the Sith School for Evil People. Where do I enroll?”

Anakin opened his eyes. He remembered now where exactly in the castle they were. They were approaching a section of the castle where he and Tahiri had come across a fallen statue made from obsidian; a statue that had been sculpted in the likeness of Darth Vader. The voice, from what he could tell, was coming from that direction.

An image flashed in his mind. He saw a number of people, all cloaked in black, bowing in reverence to the reconstructed statue of Vader. Another stood in front of it, espousing lectures of the dark side and the Sith, twisting their minds to accept such teachings as gospel. The very thought filled Anakin’s heart with dread.

“I think we’ve found our cult,” he said.

*  *  *

“We stand here today in the halls of Château Vader, although it was not always known by that name.”

Ingo Wavlud paused to regard his gathered students, all dressed in black robes with hoods pulled up over their faces. Some were looking at him, listening to his lecture, but most were staring intently at the obsidian statue that loomed behind him. The statue of Darth Vader casted a dark shadow over the chamber, a shadow which they were all giddy to be in.

“During the Manderon Period,” Wavlud continued, “it was known as Château Vassago, named for its creator. Count Vassago and his kin ruled over Vjun for millennia until they passed on into the obscurities of time. That was when the property was purchased by the wealthy House Bast of Dura-Kahn.”

He inclined his head to a member of the audience, a young woman in her early twenties. Lumina Bast was the daughter of Leradmin Bast, the twin brother (or alleged clone) of Chief Moradmin Bast who had served under Darth Vader following the destruction of the Death Star. After the collapse of the Empire, most members of House Bast had withdrawn themselves to Dura-Kahn, although Leradmin remained loyal to the Empire until the bitter end. Nowadays, the Basts stayed out of galactic affairs, but that did not mean they had lost their Imperial patriotism or devotion to the dark arts. Lumina, ironic as her name was, was no less devout than any of the other aspiring Children, following in the shadow of Darth Vader as her father and uncle had before her.

“House Bast eagerly gifted the castle to Lord Vader at his request and for that they have been held in the Dark Lord’s favor.” Wavlud spread out his hands to gesture at the rest of his audience. “But you too can earn his favor by pledging yourself to his shadow. The Dark Father will reward your fealty with mercy, and you will have nothing to fear from the darkness.

“Now then, who will be the first to pledge themselves to the shadow of the Dark Lord?”

To his amusement, Lumina Bast was the first one to step up, pulling back her hood to reveal long dark hair. “I pledge myself to His Shadow.”

Wavlud smiled and was about to commence the initiation ceremony when he caught movement at the far end of the chamber. His hand inches away from touching Lumina’s forehead, his eyes lingered on the corner of the room. “It would appear we have visitors,” he said softly. Keeping his tone even yet loud enough to be heard, he then said, “Please, show yourselves. No harm will come to you. The shadow is welcoming to all.”

*  *  *

“There goes the element of surprise,” Jacen muttered under his breath.

He, Anakin, and Jaina all kept a hand on their lightsabers as they stepped out into the wide chamber, which was dominated by the statue of Darth Vader. Chance also kept his hand near a holstered blaster pistol, keeping his cool in the face of these strange acolytes.

“Welcome,” the old man providing the lecture greeted them. “You are just in time for the initiation. Are you here to become Children of Vader?”

“We’re not really in the terrorism business, but thanks,” Jaina said dryly. Jacen waved for her to stand down as he stepped in front of the group. The old man’s expression did not seem to change at the allegation.

“Actually, we’re here to find out what happened to… an acquaintance of ours,” Jacen said. “Does the name Mill Arkham mean anything to you?”

“Ah, yes.” The old man smiled softly. “He was one of my more promising students. In fact, he was one of the first to become a Child of Vader. How did you come to know him?”

“There was… an attack on New Alderaan,” Jacen said, choosing his words carefully. “He was one of the casualties.”

“What a shame. He had such a bright future ahead of him.”

“All right, cut the crap,” Jaina said impatiently, ignoring Jacen’s warning glance as she stepped forward. “Who exactly are you and what is it you have going on here?”

“Your friend here is rather rude,” the old man said to Jacen. He then redirected his gaze to Jaina. “My name is Ingo Wavlud. I once taught at the University of New Alderaan, where I met young Mill.”

“That adds up,” Jacen said. “You were the professor who took his students on an unauthorized field trip to here on Vjun.”

“Ah, so that’s how you found out about me.” Wavlud smiled but there was no longer any warmth to it. “Something tells me that you did not know Mill that well. Otherwise, you probably would have followed him here to Vjun. Tell me, who exactly are you?”

“We’re the grandchildren of that guy you’re worshiping,” Jaina said, nodding to the statue of Vader. “And I hate to rain on your parade, but our grandfather died as a Jedi, not a Sith Lord.”

“Lies!” cried out one of the cloaked acolytes. “The Dark Father remains in the shadows!”

Wavlud motioned for his student to settle down before looking back to the Solo siblings. “I am aware that the Jedi have a… different view of what befell Lord Vader on that fateful day twenty-four years ago.”

“It’s not a different view,” Jaina snapped. “It’s the truth.”

Wavlud raised an eyebrow. “Is it? Tell me, my dear, were you there on that day? Did you see your grandfather return to the light as Master Skywalker has claimed?”

Jaina frowned as she reluctantly shook her head. “No. No, we weren’t.”

“And neither was I. All we have to go off of is the word of the one man who survived the destruction of the second Death Star. For all we know, he could have struck down Lord Vader in combat himself. In that case, both of our views are equally valid in that they are equally impossible to be proved right or wrong.”

Anakin knew that Wavlud was wrong. He believed his uncle when he had told him and his siblings that their grandfather had turned back to the light in order to save him from the Emperor. Even so, Wavlud’s words stung because he also knew that none of them could prove what had actually happened on that day. The three of them as well as Chance hadn’t even been born yet.

Anakin believed the words of his uncle. But there was no way they could get the entire galaxy to believe them.

Taking the steering yoke of the conversation again, Jacen said, “Look, regardless of our views and beliefs, we still have a situation. Mill did die on New Alderaan, because he was a perpetrator of the attack on New Aldera. He and his accomplices were calling themselves the Children of Vader, which is what you have referred to yourselves as.”

Wavlud frowned. “Is that so? Then I am afraid poor Mill was misguided by my teachings. We do not seek violence against the galaxy. We simple desire solace from the shadow of the Dark Father.”

“Okay, that term is really getting on my nerves,” Jaina muttered.

Wavlud continued, “Those who are fully initiated and graduate from my courses are free to walk their own path, practicing the Way of Vader however they so choose. The fact that Mill and potentially others chose to practice it in a way that brought harm to others as well as themselves is unfortunately, but, ultimately, out of my control.”

“I don’t buy that for a second.” Jaina turned to her brothers. “We need to bring these guys in. They’re clearly dangerous.”

“How so?” Wavlud asked. “We are harmlessly practicing our beliefs. The actions of rogue elements do not represent the greater whole. Or should we vilify the entire Jedi Order for the actions of those who fell to the dark side? Should you be brought to justice for the acts of Ulic Qel-Droma, or Revan, or perhaps, dare I say, Anakin Skywalker?”

“Ignore him,” Jaina hissed. “Let’s just get back to the ship and get in contact with Mom, or anyone who can deal with these guys.”

Anakin looked between his elder siblings. Jacen appeared to be conflicted; perhaps Wavlud’s words had had an effect on him? Out of the three of them, he had always been one to question Jedi teachings the most, if only for the sake of questioning them and starting a discussion with his teachers. But discussing with teachers was one thing. The rhetoric of a cult leader was another.

After a moment, Jacen finally nodded. “Fine. Let’s get back to the ship.” He turned back to Wavlud. “Feel free to continue doing… whatever it is you’re doing, so long as it stays within these walls. But don’t be surprised when the New Republic comes knocking.”

Wavlud smiled back at him. “I look forward to it.”

With one last wary look, Jacen turned to leave and the others followed him, Chance more than eager to walk alongside him if it meant getting to the ship quicker.

Anakin fully expected some of the acolytes to pursue them, or for them to activate the automated defenses. But no such threat came. As quickly as they had arrived, they were back on Chance’s ship and departing from Vjun.

While Chance worked on plotting a course out of the system (he was still paranoid about being followed), Jacen worked on contacting their mother.

“Hopefully they got off New Alderaan safely,” he murmured, more to himself than anything.

“Hopefully they won’t kill us for going to a dangerous planet without supervision,” Anakin said jokingly.

“Hopefully Threepio remembered to send off my love letter to Zekk,” Jaina said.

Chance looked up at her with a pained look. “What?”

She smiled at him. “Gotcha.”

His scowl lasted only for a few seconds before melting into a grin as he relaxed. “That you did, princess. That you did.”

A few minutes later, Jacen said, “Finally. Mom, it’s Jacen. Can you hear me?”

The response that came was not their mother’s voice. Nor was it the voice of any human at all. Instead, it was the chirpy tone of an astromech droid.

Jacen’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Artoo? What are you doing answering the call? Is our mother there? Can you put her on?”

The next response was not from R2-D2, but rather his protocol droid counterpart. “I’m terribly sorry, Master Jacen, but your mother is rather busy at the moment,” C-3PO said. “We have safely departed from New Alderaan, if that is what you are concerned about.”

“That’s great to hear, but we have something urgent to tell her. Can you at least relay it to her?”

“Of course I can! Let me—” C-3PO paused and they could all hear R2-D2 chirp at him in the background. “Oh, yes, my apologies. Artoo just reminded me to tell you to not watch the HoloNet.”

Jacen’s confusion grew even further and he exchanged looks with the others. “Why not?”

“Yes, Artoo, why not?” R2-D2 beeped in the background again, sounding rather anxious. “Goodness gracious me!” C-3PO exclaimed. “Well, I don’t see how that could have possibly be put past the auto-censors!”

“Great, now we have to check the HoloNet,” Chance said. “Want me to put it on?”

Jacen looked to Anakin and Jaina. Both of them simply shrugged. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“Um, Master Jacen, did you not hear me correctly?” C-3PO said over the comm. “Artoo is saying to not—”

Before the protocol droid could even finish, Chance had brought up the HoloNet, casting its image over the front viewport. The four of them all stared in abject horror at what they saw before them.

“Oh, dear,” C-3PO bemoaned. “Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to me?”

Star Wars: Vergence V, Chapter Six

 CHAPTER SIX

Jedi Master Kyle Katarn was worried.

While he was used to his former apprentice Jaden Korr going on missions without telling anyone and wandering his way through the galaxy (there was a reason why his personal ship was called the Far Wanderer), this time was different. Since noticing his absence, Kyle had made several attempts to contact Jaden to no avail, receiving only static instead. Jaden wasn’t one to ignore calls, so the fact that he wasn’t answering meant that something was up. He had voiced his concerns to the other Jedi Masters and they had all agreed, Luke especially, that they would search for him as soon as the right opportunity came. As it stood though, they did not have any leads on where Jaden could have gone.

Then, one day, his modified Z-95 Headhunter appeared in the skies of Tython, landing outside the Jedi Temple. His astromech droid R6 was present in its socket, but there was no sign of Jaden. Any attempts to question the droid were futile as its memory had apparently been wiped, with the latest and only log entry in its databank being a command to travel to Tython. From the ship’s navigation systems, they had been able to discern that the Far Wanderer had come from a planet named Fhost, located on the edge of Wild Space. Kyle had immediately volunteered to travel there only for Luke to stop him.

“This is obviously some sort of trap,” the revived Grand Master had said. “Someone must have manually wiped the Arsix’s memory and set it on a course back here. Whoever did this is likely the reason for Jaden’s disappearance. If we follow the trail they’ve left us, then we may very well share the same fate.”

“All the more reason to follow it then,” said Kyp Durron. “If someone out there is able to defeat Jaden of all Jedi, then they are a danger to not only all Jedi but potentially to the Resistance as well. Hell, they might even be associated with the First Order.”

“I don’t doubt that, Kyp, but we can’t go into this blind. We need a plan.” Luke’s expression then became grim. “Besides, I’ve lost contact with Leia. Something must be going on in the Ileenium system. We might have more pressing concerns on our hands.”

As much as Kyle did not want to admit it, he knew that Luke was right. Over the past month, the First Order had been growing stronger, and the Galactic Alliance had recently fallen under the control of a suspected sympathizer. Jaden would have to wait until they had gotten everything else sorted.

“Once we’ve reestablished contact with the Resistance, I will send a team of Jedi Knights to provide aid,” Luke went on. “We still need to keep a low profile to avoid a repeat of what happened on Ossus. The First Order knows that we are a threat to them and will stop at nothing to wipe us all out. The more we stay hidden and restrained, the less damage they can do.”

Something in Luke’s tone suggested to Kyle that he did not fully agree with this current method, one that the Jedi Order had been going by under Jacen Solo’s leadership before Luke’s return on Lothal. Kyle wondered if he was uncertain on what to do due to having missed out on sixteen years of events, while also not wanting the Jedi to be wiped out by the First Order as they had been by the Empire. It could very well have been a mixture of a number of factors, all which Kyle could sympathize with.

At the very least, Kyle could take solace in the fact that Jaden was still alive, wherever he was. If he was dead, he would have felt it in the Force.

He only hoped that it would stay that way.

*  *  *

The time it took to travel from Crait to Darkknell was brief, as the latter system was located just at the end of the Duros Space Run where it met with the Hydian Way. Within hours of leaving the salt-based planet, the Resistance shuttle carrying Rey, Finn, and the team they had been assigned to had dropped out of hyperspace and was approaching Darkknell, with Poe Dameron and his Rogues escorting the shuttle.

From what General Organa had said at the briefing, Darkknell had been an Imperial world that declared its independence after the collapse of the Empire. As such, it did not have any representatives in the Galactic Alliance and was a potential ally for the Resistance, provided that the First Order had not yet established operations there. Orbiting three stars that were either dying or two weak to provide adequate sunlight, Darkknell was known to suffer long nights depending on its position, hence its foreboding name. Still, it was known to be home to a sizable and diverse population, and had been able to establish a solid enough economy considering its independence from any known galactic government.

While no one knew for sure where this “Agent Gray” of theirs would be, it was known that they had a position that was close to the current governor of Darkknell, operating in the capital city of Xakrea. Once they had landed at Xakrea, they were to seek an audience with the governor and hopefully get in contact with their agent.

It was a simple enough mission, but Rey could not help but feel apprehensive about it. General Organa had said that she would have gone along with them for the mission, making any discussion with the governor easy, but had to stay behind on Crait to oversee the base’s setup (as well as stay out of the eyes of any potential assassins). As such, Commander Dameron had been entrusted with leading the mission. While he was far more senior and experienced than Rey or the rest of the team, she did not have full faith in his ability to handle any sort of negotiations based on what she had seen from him on Corellia. Still, it was not her place to question General Organa’s decision and she had thus kept her opinions to herself.

Besides her, Finn, and the Rogues, their crew also included the engineer Rose, who had volunteered for the mission to make sure their admittedly old and unreliable shuttle stayed together. Also present was the rather eccentric trooper Beaumont Kin. The oldest member of the team after Snap Wexley, Beaumont had volunteered based on the fact that Darkknell had once been a stronghold for the Sith over a millennium ago. Although he now served as a soldier, Beaumont was still a historian at heart and had a great interest in ancient civilizations, something which he apparently shared with his idol, the late Arhul Hextrophon.

It was a strange and odd crew that had been assembled, but Rey was pretty sure that was par for the course for the Resistance.

Once Beaumont had announced that they handed, Rey got up from her seat and equipped herself. Rather than change back to her Jedi robes after discarding the Mandalorian disguise she had worn on Batuu, she had instead donned a more form-fitting black coverall that allowed for more movement. Considering how uncertain Darkknell’s allegiances were, she figured it would be better to not advertise her nature as a Jedi. Especially if there was a chance that the First Order had spies looking out for her or other Jedi associated with the Resistance.

Departing from the shuttle, Rey and the rest of the crew joined up with Poe and his Rogues as they were disembarking from their own fighters. The docking bay at the Xakrea Spaceport was large enough to fit all thirteen ships and the Psadan dock worker did not at all look fazed by the number of ships as he approached them with a datapad in his hand.

“Thirteen hundred,” the stout, lumpy plated being said grumpily.

“Pardon?” Poe asked.

“Docking fee is a hundred credits per ship. You have thirteen ships. Do the math, human.”

Poe blanched as he looked over to Snap. “Do we have that kind of money?”

Snap shrugged. “You’d have to ask the general.”

Poe looked back at the Psadan with an incredulous look. “A hundred credits per ship? Come on, that’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t make the rules,” the Psadan snapped. “Either pay the fee or get out.”

Shaking his head, Poe turned back to his Rogues. “All right. Snap, take your wingmate and Rogues Seven through Ten back into orbit and await further orders. Rest of us will stay here.”

Snap nodded. “If you say so. Radio us if you run into trouble.”

“Will do.” Poe then turned back to the Psadan. “Right. We’ll pay the seven hundred.”

The dock worker rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Once the fee had been paid and the six Rogues had departed from the spaceport, the rest of the team departed from the spaceport and made their way for the capitol. Eternal night hung over the city of Xakrea, which was populated by a variety of species, from humans, Duros, and Sullustans to Leffingites, Ubdurians, and Sikurdians.

As they waded their way through the crowd, Finn remarked, “Pretty populated for a world so isolated.”

“Darkknell may be independent but it’s hardly cut off from the galaxy,” replied Beaumont. “Even worlds without representation in the Senate have exports and businesses that they thrive off of.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know,” Finn murmured, quiet enough that only Rey could hear him.

Reaching a busy plaza, Poe brought the group to a stop before turning around to face them. “It’s best if we split up so we don’t draw too much attention to ourselves. Finn, Rey, Beaumont, you’re with me. The rest of you, lay low and await our signal.”

“What kind of signal?” asked Selena Darklighter.

“You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Trust me, you will,” remarked Jessika Pava.

The group split off further and Rey followed Poe, Finn, and Beaumont towards the capitol building. Leaning in closer to Poe, Rey whispered, “How do you plan on approaching this?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I don’t think anyone can just walk up to a government capitol and demand to see the governor without some sort of reasonable explanation behind it.”

Poe smirked. “Who said anything about the governor?”

He suddenly made a sharp turn down a narrow alleyway and the others stumbled as they moved to follow him. Upon reaching a discreet door, Poe walked up to it and knocked in a specific sequence. A moment passed and the door opened, allowing them to step inside.

“How did you know…?” Finn started to ask.

“General Organa told me,” Poe said simply.

“And she didn’t tell us?” Rey asked.

Poe gave her a peculiar look. “I’m a commander. You’re not. Some information is simply need to know.”

Once the four of them were all inside, the door closed and locked behind them, plunging them in darkness. Then, a single light turned on to reveal a cloaked figure sitting at a wooden table.

“Agent Gray, I presume?” Poe asked.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” the cloaked person replied. Their voice sounded slightly distorted, as if they were speaking through the mask. Rey immediately thought of Kylo Ren and her hand went straight for a lightsaber but Finn stopped her. She glanced at him but the ex-stormtrooper had his eyes solely on the mysterious figure.

“Why not?” Poe asked.

“My position has been compromised. A new governor has been installed, one with First Order sympathies. I am no longer able to carry out my tasks.”

“But the information we were given—”

“Is outdated. Communications going in and out of Darkknell have been restricted. I can’t even get a reliable connection to Fulcrum.” Agent Gray tilted his head up and Rey got a better look at what was under his hood. His face was concealed by a mask that appeared to be different from the one worn by Kylo Ren. It was faded white with golden accents; Rey believed she had seen the design before from her brief time in the Jedi Archives on Tython. It had been worn by the Jedi Temple Guards during the final days of the Old Republic. “Why are you here?”

“We were told that you have intelligence on the Malvis Cabal,” Poe said. “The Cabal itself has collapsed, but General Organa thinks it might give us a lead on the First Order’s operations.”

“I am aware of the Cabal’s collapse,” Agent Gray said. “However, it still has a presence here on Darkknell through the Tandoon Clan. Someone else has declared themselves Gaar and committed a coup against the governor I had been attached to. They practically forced the Xakrea Parliament to install someone who is believed to have ties to the First Order.”

Poe huffed out his breath. “Great. Seems like pretty much everywhere we go has the First Order’s fingers in their pies.”

“I would think that, by now, you would have realized just how much reach they have.” Agent Gray rose from his seat and drew his cloak tighter around his body. “It’s best that we leave as soon as possible. Your very presence could potentially jeopardize this whole operation.”

Suddenly, the ground trembled beneath their feet as a muffled explosion sounded from outside the building.

“If,” Agent Gray continued, “it hasn’t already.”

*  *  *

The capitol building burned like a funeral pyre. Some stopped and gathered to gawk at it in terror while others ran for safety, their paths crisscrossing and causing them to collide with others and get trampled on. The chaos that had engulfed the streets of Xakrea was impossible to navigate.

That had better not have been the signal.

Jessika Pava watched it all unfold before her very eyes. Her mind was brought back to a time that she would have rather forgotten; a time where the only thing she and her parents knew was strife and chaos. She had seen it before on Dandoran, and she was seeing it here again on Darkknell. No matter how many years had passed or where in the galaxy she was, everything seemed to stay the same.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts before fishing for her comlink. “Commander? We’ve got a problem.”

“So I’ve heard.” Poe’s voice came through a hiss of static. “How bad is the situation?”

“Very bad. Try ‘capitol on fire’ bad.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. We’ll be there soon. Just stay where you—”

Jessika did not hear the rest of Poe’s words as she was tackled from behind by a large being. Instinctively, she jabbed her elbow into the face of her attacker and managed to squeeze her way out of their loosened grip. Spinning around, she adopted a combative stance she had learned from her martial arts training and got a better look at her opponent. The large Ikkrukkian was massaging his nose where Jessika’s elbow had made contact. As he wiped the blood away, he affixed Jessika with glaring yellow eyes as a sinister smile crossed his face.

“You shouldn’t have come here. Rebel scum.”

Jessika’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion but managed to dodge in time as the Ikkrukkian lunged at her. She then got behind him and threw her leg into a spinning kick, making contact with his back. The brute staggered and dropped to one knee, giving her the window she needed to jump onto him and lock him into a choke hold.

The Ikkrukkian simply laughed as he half-heartedly thrashed against her, barely putting up much of a fight. “You played right into our hand, human.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jessika grunted.

But the brute did not answer her. Instead, he started to gag and choke, foam spilling out of his mouth. Jessika jumped off of him and watched in horror as the Ikkrurkkian collapsed onto the ground and writhed in agony. Within moments, he lay still, a fallen giant laying in the streets of Xakrea.

Then she looked up and saw the yellow cam droid hovering in front of her. Behind it, a holoscreen built into a building facade switched off from the advertisement it had been displaying and replaced it with an image of her, still in her pilot gear, holding the Ikkrukkian in a choke hold as foam came out of his mouth. Scrolling across the image in bold Aurebesh characters were the words: “REBEL INSURGENTS STRIKE XAKREA!” The image was then interchanged with images of the capitol building aflame, with the same words scrolling across them.

Her heart sunk like a weight as she once again fished for her comlink. Her mouth was as dry and coarse as sand as she spoke. “Commander, I think we’ve just been set up.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Poe’s voice sounded much clearer than before and she turned around to see him, Rey, Finn, and Beaumont running up to join her. Trailing behind them was a tall figure clad in an obscuring cloak and what appeared to be a mask of archaic design. “We need to get out of here before they drop security on us. Gray here knows the best route out.”

“Are you sure we can trust him?” Jessika asked pointedly.

“He’s the only chance we have of getting out of here alive. Come on, let’s find the others.”

Sifting through the chaotic streets and avoiding any further altercations with either Tandoon Clan members or vengeful citizens, they managed to find Rose, Selena, and Shyra. Unfortunately, there was no sign of either Lensi or Ziff, and the crowds were becoming far too clustered and hostile to navigate.

At Gray’s behest, they followed him to a hidden transport that he already had prepared, a repurposed Imperial troop transport, and quickly climbed in. Within moments, they were driving out of Xakrea and headed out into the deserted plains that laid beyond the city’s outskirts. Jessika and the others were cramped inside the transport’s interior while Poe took the seat next to the driver’s, already occupied by Gray.

“I can radio Snap and the others to meet us at our destination,” Poe started to say.

“No,” Agent Gray interrupted him. “That’s exactly what they want. Anything you do now will be painted as an attack on Darkknell by the Resistance. That will give the First Order, and by extension the Galactic Alliance, the leverage they need to frame the Resistance as a terrorist cell. What little support you already have in the galaxy will evaporate in an instant.”

“What would you have us do then?” Poe asked.

Agent Gray was silent for a moment, the only sound coming from the rattling of the old ITT as it traversed the desolate ground. When he finally spoke, his tone was low, almost ominous.

“You will have to do what no living being in their right mind wants to do. You will have to accept help from your enemy.”

Star Wars: Vergence V, Chapter Five

 CHAPTER FIVE

Poe pulled off his helmet as he rose out of the opened cockpit of his X-wing. He looked around the now-crowded hangar bay of the Crait Base as technicians rushed to attend to the many fighters that had just landed after having arrived from the Ileenium system. While he was pleased to see all eleven of his Rogues were present and accounted for, such elation was quickly dashed when he noted that Tallie and Aftab were missing fighters from their respective squadrons. From Blue Squadron, he saw Wrobie Tyce rush out to embrace her wife Larma D’Acy, while Shasa Zaro and Lega Fossang from Gold Squadron consoled each other.

All things considered, he knew the outcome of the battle could have been much, much worse than what it was now. The First Order had been surprisingly merciful, and he still wasn’t quite sure why. Regardless, the defeat stung and his face was glum as he climbed down the ladder of his X-wings.

BB-8 squealed as he launched out of his socket and landed hard on the salty ground next to Poe’s feet. He looked down at the ball-shaped astromech with a reproachful look.

“You know I don’t like it when you do that,” he said. “You’re gonna break something one of these days. Just wait for the technicians to pull you out like they do with all of the other astromechs.”

BB-8 warbled something to him, which Poe took from his decent understanding of droidspeak to be a comment about “those other astromechs” being old models that were overdue for retirement. Poe simply shook his head before looking up to see General Organa approaching him. He quickly snapped to attention and saluted but Leia waved for him to ease.

“I’m glad to see you and your pilots made it here safely, Commander Dameron,” she said. “How many did you lose at D’Qar?”

“By my count? At least seven altogether.” Poe shook his ruefully. “Not as many as I thought we’d lose, given the circumstances, but still seven more than what I would have wanted to lose.”

Leia nodded, her expression sympathetic. “You’re not alone. We can go over the details at the debriefing. Before that, I want you to get some rest. I’m going to have another mission for you and your Rogues.”

“We’re ready for anything, General.”

Leia smiled, thought it carried a hint of sadness in it. “I know you will be, Poe.”

Her use of his first name caught him off-guard, and by the time he recovered she had already moved on to speak to Tallie and Aftab. At first he wondered why she had spoken to him in such a personal manner, dropping all pretense of formalities, until he remembered that she had known and worked with both his parents during the Galactic Civil War. His father Kes had been one of the Pathfinders serving with her and General Solo during their mission on the Forest Moon of Endor, and his mother Shara Bey had flown alongside Leia during an Imperial attack on Naboo. Since then, the Damerons had had a close relationship with the Solo-Skywalker clan; he had even helped train Leia’s daughter Jaina when she had started flying starfighters.

Since his mother’s passing, he had come to see Leia as a surrogate mother, even if they did not spent much time together outside of formal or military circumstances. Sometimes he wondered if she felt the same way, especially after she had lost her firstborn son a mere two years before he had lost his mother.

A questioning beep from BB-8 brought him to the present moment. He looked down at the astromech and smiled.

“I’m fine, buddy. C’mon, let’s rest up before our next mission.”

BB-8 warbled his agreement before following Poe as he made his way through the cavernous base.

*  *  *

Danielle Kieran, formerly the pirate queen Kestora, sat in a cell aboard the First Light, something that had once belonged to her but was now her prison. 

She had lost count of the hours. Had it been two days since Viira had told the Errant Venture to meet with the Veiled Sorority at Numidian Prime? She supposed she would find out when someone came by to bring her to her execution.

She wondered how she would be killed. Were it anyone else, a blaster shot would have been most likely. But Viira had become rather attached to the lightsaber she had found on Socorro and proudly displayed it on her new garb as the Pirate Queen. If there was an opportunity for Viira to behead someone with her new weapon, then she certainly wasn’t going to pass it up.

Dani leaned her head against the steel wall at the end of her bunk. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so focused on finding Cera, she would have seen this mutiny coming from parsecs away. Or perhaps it never would have happened at all. There was no way to know that now, and she wasn’t one who liked to dwell on “what-ifs.”

The door to her cell opened and she turned her head to face it, expecting to see either Viira, Lavira, or any of her other close crew members. Instead, standing there was a woman with hair as white as snow, with similarly-colored eyes to match. Or eye, rather; her right eye was covered by a gold-plated cybernetic that extended up into her hairline and down her cheek. It took Dani a moment to place her, and she knew it wasn’t because she was part of her crew.

“You,” she said, sitting up straight and turning around fully to face the Arkanian woman. “You were with the Curator.”

“Correct,” the Arkanian replied, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. “You may call me Lunara.”

“What are you doing here? Did Viira accept you into her crew?”

Lunara shook her head. “I have been hiding on the First Light ever since the incident on Ord Mantell. I am intimately familiar with the yacht’s layout from when it was under the ownership of Curator Tyrius and know exactly where the best places to hide are. No one—besides you now, of course—knows of my presence her.”

Dani narrowed her eyes as she studied the Arkanian woman carefully. “What do you want then? Why are you here?”

“As I’m sure you’re aware, Sal Tyrius is someone who is… quite interested in historical artifacts. An interest you apparently share, based on your collection aboard this star yacht.”

Dani shook her head. “They’re not mine. They’ve been here ever since I inherited this ship from my mother, and she took it from her old employer. I’m pretty sure it’s his collection.”

“Regardless, you are sitting on a treasure trove of priceless artifacts. One that Curator Tyrius would be much appreciative to receive for his own collection.”

“Tyrius is dead. My crew found his body when they were cleaning things up after the droid incident.”

“You don’t know much about Arkanians, do you?” Lunara’s lips twitched slightly, displaying the smallest hint of a smile. “Death is a trivial obstacle for some of us.”

Dani stared at the white-haired woman, wondering if she had simply lost it. “What are you trying to get at?” she asked, her voice coming out as a whisper.

“My offer is simple: I will help you avoid execution at the hands of your former crewmates if you help me deliver the First Light and its collection to Arkania. You will not have to give up the First Light itself, merely the collection of artifacts it carries. I promise you that the Curator will pay you enough to buy three more Kalevalan star yachts.”

Despite herself, Dani considered the offer. The last thing she wanted to do was to work with someone like Tyrius, or anyone associated with him. But she also needed some way to escape her former crew and perhaps get to the Smugglers’ Alliance, who were possibly on their way if they had taken Viira up on her offer. And if getting to them meant getting to Cera….

“All right,” she said, rising to her feet. “But I have one condition.”

Lunara rose an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you’re in any position to make conditions when I can easily leave you to die.”

“Or I can alert everyone to your presence and get you thrown out at best. Maybe even convince them to sell or destroy that collection your curator so desperately wants.”

Lunara smirked. “I stand corrected. Very well, what is your condition?”

Dani told her. In less than a minute, she was being led out of her cell and through the corridors of the First Light.

*  *  *

The arboreal world of Numidian Prime came into view as the Errant Venture exited hyperspace. Straight ahead was a Sphyrna-class Hammerhead corvette, which Toah knew to be the Queen’s Hammer. He stood on the bridge with Booster Terrik along with Kyla’s Renegades, his daughter among them. Tempted as he was to say something to her, he decided it would be best to keep quiet until after the meeting with the Veiled Sorority… provided it went smoothly and without any problems.

Within minutes, the Errant Venture was hailed and the call was answered, allowing Viira’s image to materialize on the viewscreen. The Twi’lek pirate now wore the mask of the Pirate Queen, modified slightly to make room for her twin lekku. She was also fully dressed in the same uniform that Dani had worn when she had gone by Queen Kestora; from what Toah understood, it was the traditional garb of the Pirate Queen among the Veiled Sorority, leftover from a discarded concept of the Pirate Queen being an immortal figure.

“Welcome to Numidian Prime, Captain Terrik,” Viira sardonically addressed the old smuggler. “Feel free to dock with our ship so that we may commence—”

“Oh, no,” Booster interrupted her pointedly. “I’m not falling for that old trick. I’ve been at this for longer than you’ve been alive. No, we’ll meet down on the surface of the planet. It’s either that or we leave.”

Toah tensed up but knew that Booster was bluffing. Viira flipped her hand in a theatrical manner. “Oh, very well. There’s an outpost in the northern hemisphere. We will transmit the coordinates to you now. Bring no more than five others with you. I will do the same. We’ll be waiting.”

Viira’s image dissolved away and Booster turned to face Toah and the gathered Renegades. “I already know you’re coming along,” he said pointedly to Toah. “Your call as to who comes with us.”

Toah did not need to give the question much thought. “Kyla, Wiskin, Typha, and Valrisa.”

He heard Bedo audibly sigh in relief while Valrisa said, “Cera.”

Caught off-guard, he turned to look at his daughter, their eyes locking. “Pardon?”

She tilted her head down, her dark bangs hanging loosely over her eyes. “My name is Cera.”

Bedo’s long nose twitched. “Don’t you need to go to a court to get that—”

“Zip it,” Typha hissed at him.

The Ortolan held his hands up defensively. “I was just asking! My people usually just pick a name and stick with it.”

Disregarding Bedo’s remarks, Toah looked at his daughter—Cera—for another moment before nodding. “All right,” he said, his throat feeling tight. He then turned back to Booster. “We have our crew.”

“Then let’s go,” Booster said. “Hopefully these pirates stay true to their word.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Kyla muttered. 

*  *  *

It was well into the night on Coruscant, and Captain Lon Shevu was more than ready to clock out and end his shift. So it only made sense that, fifteen minutes before the end of his shift, a strange individual had to walk into the station and prolong it.

Said individual was a tall and old Chagrian male, dressed in dark, stylish robes and walking with the aide of a decorated cane. His wrinkly blue skin was marked with what looked like tribal tattoos, although Shevu had never known Chagrians—at least those living on Coruscant—to have any sort of tribal traditions. The non-human’s piercing blue eyes met Shevu’s own as he approached the front desk.

“I am here to pick up an inmate of yours,” the Chagrian said, his tone crisp and clear despite his somewhat frail appearance.

“Do you have a security clearance?” Shevu asked, eyebrows raised.

The Chagrian provided him one and Shevu looked it over. It was an older code, dating back to the Imperial Period, but it checked out. He thought about alerting Director Girdun, but after the stressful week they had all had, he thought it better not to bother him. Besides, something about the Chagrian’s presence compelled him to not delay his request.

“Very well,” Shevu said. “Who are you here to see?”

The Chagrian told him and Shevu led him straight to the holding cell that contained the Kiffar ex-Jedi named Zarin Kal. Lifting his head up, Zarin squinted from the sudden illumination into his darkened cell.

“Are you here to deliver my sentence?” the Kiffar asked.

“That depends entirely on whether you comply with my demands or not,” the Chagrian replied.

Shevu faintly recognized the fact that he could not move a single muscle in his body, nor could he comprehend all of the words that were being spoken in front of him even though he could hear them clearly.

“I am Lord Wyyrlok,” the Chagrian went on. “Emissary of Darth Krayt.”

Zarin shot up to his feet, his expression intense. “Krayt is dead.”

“Incorrect, although he slumbers as we speak.” A smirk twisted onto the Chagrian’s face. “You may have believed that your betrayal eradicated us, but it has done the opposite in fact. It has empowered us and given the Sith a chance to rise to supremacy again.”

“No.” Zarin shook his head. “You’re lying.”

“I have no reason to.” Wyyrlok inclined his head, fixing his cold gaze on the Kiffar. “If it is death you wish, then I will happily deliver it to you. But my master wanted to give you the opportunity to be part of this glorious ascension.”

Zarin breathed heavily. “What would you have me do?”

“I can only tell you that if you agree to rejoin us. Otherwise, I will have to kill you.”

Shevu couldn’t tell how long it took for the Kiffar to consider the Chagrian’s offer, but eventually the ex-Jedi dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “I…I accept. I pledge myself once more to the dark side.”

Wyyrlok chuckled dryly. “That is hardly necessary. From what I understand, you never left it.”

He gestured slowly with his hand and Zarin rose to his feet. The two then departed the cell, leaving Shevu standing there, frozen in place.

When he could finally move again, he heard Jori Lekauf speak from behind him.

“Captain? I thought your shift ended half an hour ago.”

Shevu shook his head to clear his mind before turning around to face his young lieutenant, closing the cell door behind him. “Sorry, Lieutenant. I got distracted.”

Lekauf tilted his head questioningly. “Did Director Girdun order for the prisoner’s release?”

“You’d have to ask him.” Shevu briskly walked past him. “It’s by time I clocked out. You know how he hates paying us for overtime.”

Star Wars: Vergence V, Chapter Four

 CHAPTER FOUR

In all the years he had been a Mandalorian, Kadar had never really considered Mandalore to be his home.

When he was born on Concord Dawn, Mandalore had already fallen under the rule of the Galactic Empire, suffering the oppression of the Suprema and the lies of the puppet Gar Saxon. Even after Mandalore had been liberated with the help of the Rebel Alliance, its people remained divided and Kadar’s mother, an heiress of Clan Vizsla, refused to support either of the claimants to the mantle of Mand’alor; Fenn Shysa for following the Codex of Jaster Mereel and Bo-Katan Kryze for betraying Death Watch at the end of the Clone Wars. 

And so they remained on Concord Dawn, living simple lives as farmers. The dueling reigns of Shysa and Bo-Katan came and went, and the Darksaber that had once belonged to Clan Vizsla was thought lost in the final reconquest of Mandalore, in which the last vestiges of Imperial rule were swept away. Somehow the Darksaber had been recovered and returned to Kadar’s mother, at which point she passed it down to his eldest brother Tral. It was then that Kadar had learned of his family’s bloody history, which his parents had kept from him, and he turned his back on them, forging a new path for himself on the planet Ordo where he would meet his future family.

Even during that time, and the years that followed, Mandalore was never seen as home. Even when he and Corda raised their children there, even when Boba Fett did the impossible and brought the tribes together under a single Mand’alor. Even at the height of its brighter future, Kadar had never seen Mandalore as home.

And it certainly wasn’t now.

Walking quietly through the darkened streets of Keldabe, Kadar kept the hood of his traveling cloak as high over his head as he could. White Mandalorian armor was not exactly common, and his had earned him quite the reputation over the past decade, even more so for his role in the Battle of Mandalore a year ago. He had buried his armor after that battle to avoid such recognition, but that clearly hadn’t done much. Convinced by his daughter to embrace who he was rather than run from it, he had unburied his old armor shortly upon their arrival on Mandalore and adorned himself with it once more. Still, he had to keep his recognizable visage hidden for now until the time was right. The last thing they needed was to cause a stir in the streets, especially with everything going on right now.

The skies thundered with the sounds of battle. High above Mandalore, Mandalorian ships were locked in combat with the vessels of the First Order. They had landed on the planet just in time as there would have been no way for them to bypass the First Order’s fleet. The resurgent Empire had spent the past several weeks with surrounding the sector and was now moving in from all sides.

Kadar wasn’t sure how many worlds had fallen already, or if his own home world of Concord Dawn was among them. But he could not think about that right now. He had to stay focused.

He stayed close behind Argus and Vessin as they made their way towards the capitol of Keldabe. Argus’ jet black armor provided him with useful cover in the night but Vessin’s silver armor, passed down to her from her grandmother, caught enough eyes for some helmets to turn. If anyone noticed Kadar under his dark cloak, none dared to speak.

As they approached the capitol, Kadar noticed several Mandalorians standing outside; some were facing the front doors with their weapons drawn while others were standing vigilantly towards the streets of Keldabe. Upon noticing the approach of Argus, Vessin, and Kadar, a Mandalorian in bronze armor stepped forward and raised a hand to stop them.

“The Mand’alor is busy right now. You’ll have to wait outside.”

“We don’t have time to ‘wait,’” Argus snapped back. He gestured widely above them. “Or have you noticed the weather lately?”

“That’s exactly why he’s busy.”

The Mandalorian’s tone left no room for argument. But Argus was not the type to let something like that stop him.

Growling in frustration, the black-armored Mandalorian grabbed his bronze-clad counterpart by the collar of his undersuit and forcefully moved him aside. Some of the others instinctively pointed their weapons at him but something about his appearance and demeanor made them back off, allowing him, Vessin, and Kadar to approach the front doors.

Kadar hated to admit it, but Argus already struck him as someone more fit to lead Mandalore than someone like Tral. Given the rumors that he was directly descended from the bloodline of Mandalore the Preserver, he already had enough of a claim to the mantle. If he tried to challenge Tral Vizsla for the Darksaber, Kadar certainly wasn’t going to stop him.

Taking the lead, Argus barged through the doors and stormed past the guards standing at the doorway leading into the war room. There, the self-titled Mandalore the Exonerated stood before seven figures, all clad head to tow in black armor. While all of them wore masks concealing their identities, one of them had a pair of large green wings sprouting from their back, identifying them as some sort of winged race like a Stenax or a S’kytri….

Kadar’s heart skipped as recognition dawned on him. He had seen these people before; at the very least he had been in the same room as the S’kytri woman. They were the Knights of Ren, agents loyal to the First Order. What were they doing here, with Tral?

“Vod!” he cried out in Mando’a. Without even thinking, he threw back his hood, revealing his white helmet. “What in the blazes are you doing?!”

Tral turned, clad in black and gold armor with a red cape cascading from the back. Though his face was concealed by a red-tinted visor, Kadar could read the shock radiating from his body. “Ziar?” he exclaimed. “But… I thought you were dead!”

“You’re going to wish I was,” Kadar snarled, brushing past Argus and taking the lead. “What are you doing, colluding with the enemy?”

“We are not the enemy,” one of the Knights of Ren said coolly. He had a scythe made of phrik attached to his back.

“You’re with the First Order. I saw you back on Corellia.”

“A lot has changed since then. All that concerns you is that our goals now align.”

“I don’t buy it,” muttered Vessin, unholstering her dual Westar blaster pistols. “This has to be some sort of trick.”

“Your leader is welcome to turn down our offer,” said the Knight of Ren with the scythe. “We lose nothing by leaving this fight, yet you have everything to gain.”

“Please, vod,” Tral said to Kadar. “Trust me on this. I know what I am doing. We are going to need all of the help we can get.”

Kadar shook his head. “No. You’re falling into the same trap that Atinar did. These guys are no different from the Sith or the Empire, and how many times have our people died because of them? From the Sith War to the Great Purge, it has all been because of them. You’re deluding yourself if you think this time will be any different.”

“It will be different. Please, brother. Trust me.”

“Enough of this,” Argus growled as he shoved past Kadar, standing between him and Tral. “Your rule has come to an end, Mand’alor. I challenge you for the Darksaber.”

Tral stiffened and his hand moved for the unignited weapon hanging from his belt. Forged by Tarre Vizsla from the ancient mask of Mand’alor over a millennium ago, the Darksaber had served as a symbol for the Mandalorians for many years, being passed down from leader to leader. According to the Way of the Mandalore, a belief held by many orthodox sects, the Darksaber could only be won through combat and whoever wielded it ruled Mandalore. This tradition had been broken more than once, most notably when Bo-Katan wielded it prior to the Great Purge. Since then, it was seen as more of a curse than a blessing, and few still held onto the belief that wielding it was necessary to claim the mantle of Mand’alor. After all, Boba Fett had never laid his hands on it in all the twenty years of his reign.

Argus, Kadar knew, was not one of those who believed in the Darksaber. In his youth, he had followed the Supercommando Codex as advocated by the Mandalorian Protectors and accepted Fenn Shysa as Mand’alor in opposition to Bo-Katan’s concurrent claim. Having lost many kin to Death Watch over the years, both before and after his birth, it made sense that he did not hold Clan Vizsla and their legacy in high regard. Kadar, of course, had first-hand knowledge of that.

No, Argus was challenging Tral not because he believed in the Darksaber, but because he knew what it meant to him, as a Vizsla. As a direct descendant of Tarre Vizsla’s bloodline, Tral knew better than anyone what the Darksaber meant to his clan and those who still held it in high regard. To challenge him for it was challenging his honor, his bloodright. If he turned it down, he would look like a coward to everyone in the room, or at least to anyone who was a Mandalorian.

Before Tral could make a move, the Knight of Ren with the scythe stepped forward, until he was just behind the Mand’alor. “I believe I have a better way of settling this.”

The Knight of Ren seemed to move in a blur, snatching the Darksaber from where it hung on Tral’s belt. He then ignited its black blade and moved it in one swift stroke, aiming at Tral’s neck.

Kadar cried out as his brother’s severed helmeted head flew across the room and hit the wall. He then drew his blasters and started firing at the Knights of Ren only to be pushed off his feet by an invisible force, the S’kytri woman raising her hand at the same time. Argus and Vessin had their weapons drawn but did not fire, knowing they were outnumbered and outmatched.

“I will admit,” the Knight of Ren said as he held the Darksaber aloft in his hand. “You Mandalorians are more perceptible than I give you credit for. For that, you have our mercy.”

“Like hell we’re letting you get out of here alive,” Argus growled.

“For your own sake, you will. Ushar?”

One of the other Knights unclipped a spherical object from a bandolier around their chest. He clicked it on and hurled it at the Mandalorians. It only took Kadar a second for him to realize what it was.

“Thermal detonator! Get down!”

He was back on his feet for less than a moment when the grenade went off and fire erupted around him.

The Supremacy

“My forces have engaged the Mandalorians in combat,” General Parnadee said, her holographic form emitting before General Hux. “The plan is to let them ‘win’ this battle in order to lull them into a false sense of security.”

“A sound plan,” opined General Pryde, transmitting from his own location aboard the Steadfast. “Has the Executor approved this strategy?”

Parnadee shook her head. “He hasn’t been answering my calls.”

Pryde turned his steely gaze to Hux and the younger general stiffened to attention. “You are part of the Executor’s strike force, are you not, General Hux? Have you been in the Executor’s presence?”

“Not lately,” Hux evenly replied. “He participated in the assault on the Resistance’s base personally before ordering a withdrawal. He then placed me in command of the Supremacy while he retreated to his personal quarters.”

Pryde raised an eyebrow. “Do you know why he assigned you to the Supreme Leader’s personal vessel?”

“From my understanding, the Executor gave the previous commander an… early retirement.”

“So much like Lord Vader.” Pryde sighed as he shook his head. “I suggest we convene the Supreme Council once General Parnadee’s forces are finished at Mandalore. I believe a meeting regarding the future of the First Order is in order… preferably without the Executor’s presence.”

Hux looked at Pryde in surprise. “Is that wise? Won’t he find out about it?”

“I trust that you will do everything in your power to ensure that he does not.”

Hux knew that Pryde was asking the impossible, but he wasn’t sure if the older man knew that. Instead, he simply bowed his head in acknowledgment. “It will be done.”

“Good. Until we meet again.”

With that, Pryde and Parnadee signed off and their holograms dissolved into nothingness. Once they were gone, Hux blew out the breath he did not realize he had been holding.

“Boy, I do not envy the position you’re in.”

Hux spun on his heel to find the assassin known as Ochi of Bestoon standing behind him, leaning against an unattended console. On the other side of him was the chrome-armored Captain Phasma, a commanding officer from the First Order’s Stormtrooper Corps. As always, her expression was hidden by the helmet that she never removed in Hux’s presence—or anyone’s for that matter. He found it strange that she was here with Ochi; given how disparate their personalities were, he never imagined them being able to tolerate each other’s presence unless ordered to.

Recomposing himself, Hux fixed his green eyes on Ochi. “What do you want, assassin?” he said icily.

Ochi shrugged noncommittally. “Just thought I would pass along some interesting information I learned, that I thought you should know.”

Hux gave the assassin an impatient look. “Well? What is it?”

“I just got a call from an old master of mine. One that I think you might have heard of.” Ochi’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. “Supreme Leader Snoke.”

Hux’s eyes widened in response. “The Supreme Leader? But… the Executor said he was still recovering from the attempt on his life.”

Ochi laughed sharply. “The Executor is lying to you, General. He killed the Supreme Leader so he could take control of the First Order.”

“What?!” Hux exclaimed, suddenly grateful that no other officers were present or within hearing distance. It was just him, Phasma, and the assassin. “But then… how did he—”

“Obviously it must have been a decoy that he killed,” Ochi suggested. “Because the real Supreme Leader is on his way here and wants you to prepare for his arrival.”

Hux clutched his head. He felt like he was getting a migraine. He looked over to Phasma, who stood as resolute as ever. “Did you know about this?” he asked, his voice as low as a whisper.

“I intercepted his communication with the Supreme Leader,” Phasma replied. “I ordered him to inform you immediately or face execution.”

“I was going to tell him anyway,” Ochi said defensively. “I wasn’t going to keep it to myself!”

Ignoring him, Hux began to pace back and forth, racking his brain on what to do. He thought about sending Phasma and her soldiers into the throne room and arrest Kylo Ren, but he knew that would be suicidal. Not only was Ren a Force user with a lightsaber, but he also had the Elite Praetorian Guard that once answered to Snoke. Would the Praetorians protect the Executor though? Surely they must have been there when Ren seemingly killed the Supreme Leader. Why hadn’t they acted yet?

As a member of the Supreme Council, he did technically had the authority to order the Praetorian Guard in the Supreme Leader’s absence… but did he have that authority if the Supreme Leader was in fact still alive and well? Was he supposed to wait until Snoke returned to deal with Kylo Ren?

“General.” Phasma’s cool voice cut through his thoughts like a shard of ice. “What are your orders?”

Before Hux could answer her, he looked up in time to see a young woman step up to the open doorway, standing to attention with a stiff salute. If memory served, her name was Lieutenant Stynnix, having recently graduated from the First Order’s Sub-Adult Program.

“Sir,” Lieutenant Stynnix said curtly. “The Executor has departed from the hangar in his TIE Silencer. He did not provide any details regarding his destination but wanted me to inform you—”

Hux let out a sharp, mirthless laugh that startled Stynnix and even made Ochi shift slightly. Phasma, of course, did not budge. “Of course,” he said, shaking his head. “Of course he left. Just like that. He knows. He knows what’s coming for him. Coward.”

Stynnix swallowed, looking unsure how to respond. “Sir?”

Hux waved a dismissive hand. “Forget it. Thank you for letting me know. Is there anything else?”

“Yes, sir. He wanted me to inform you that….”

When the young woman trailed off, Hux stepped closer to her, his green eyes imploring her to continue. “Yes?”

“His exact words were that you are a fool to remain where you are if what he knows is true.” Stynnix shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir, but I am not certain as to what he meant by that.”

Hux snorted. “Neither do I. But it doesn’t matter now. Dismissed, lieutenant.”

Once Stynnix had left, Hux turned his attention back to Ochi and Phasma, a smirk twisting onto his face.

“Well then, what are we waiting for? Let us prepare for the Supreme Leader’s arrival. We wouldn’t want to make a bad impression.”

*  *  *

It had all been a lie.

He had known this, of course. Ever since Damosus, he had known this. But even when he thought he had known the truth, it was still a lie.

He had nowhere left to turn. Vorath was gone and Snoke would no doubt kill him for what he had done. Even so, he did not want to be a slave again, to either the Supreme Leader or a Dark Lord.

The other Knights of Ren were not responding to his calls, but he had the Night Buzzard’s current location. Mandalore. What were they doing on Mandalore? He knew that the First Order had forces stationed in the sector, but he had not ordered the Knights to go there. They were supposed to answer his beck and call, not just because he was the Executor but because he was the Master of the Knights of Ren.

Or was he? Had they turned against him as well? It wouldn’t surprise him. He knew that Vicrul and the others had never accepted him as their leader, even after Snoke had named him as such. For the past fourteen years, he had been expecting a betrayal of some kind. Perhaps now was as good an opportunity for them as any.

He stared at his navigational console, unsure of where to go. He couldn’t go to Mustafar; that would be too obvious and Snoke would find him easily. Nor could he go to any of the Knights’ hideouts out in Wild Space or the edge of the Unknown Regions. He couldn’t go anywhere the First Order had extended its reach, which now included much of the Outer Rim and even the Core Worlds. He needed to go somewhere in the galaxy where no one, not even Snoke, would find him.

That was when it hit.

He reached into his cloak and pulled out the cube-shaped object that contained the map to the First Jedi Temple. He had taken it from Snoke’s corpse after killing him and had been holding onto it ever since, waiting for the proper moment to use it. That moment, evidently, was now.

After putting in the coordinates, Kylo Ren leaned back in his seat as he engaged his TIE Silencer’s hyperdrive. The stars extended before him as he jumped into the unknown.

Star Wars: Vergence V, Chapter Three

 CHAPTER THREE

As planets went, one could not get more remote than Crait. Located just off the Duros Space Run and straddling the border between the Grumani and Bon’nyuw-Luq sectors, Crait was a desolate and uninhabited world covered in flats made of salt. There was virtually nothing of value on the planet, which was why it had been ignored by all of the galactic governments and visited only semi-frequently by curious miners.

Which, of course, made it the perfect location for a new hidden base.

It was not the first time Leia had been to Crait. During the early days of the Rebellion, it had been the site of a secret outpost that the Rebels had abandoned shortly before the Battle of Yavin. Since then, the planet had not been visited by anyone affiliated with the Alliance, and from what she could tell the outpost had not been touched in the last forty-two years. The old equipment from those early days were exactly where they had been left, although stars knew if they were even still operable.

Leaving the Raddus in orbit of the planet in case they needed to make another hasty retreat, Leia had taken a shuttle down to the planet to oversee the transferring of equipment and personnel as the Resistance got settled in at the old outpost. Pushing back her feelings of history repeating itself when she did not want it to, she focused herself on the here and now as she listened to General Helricks bark orders and soldiers scurry this way and that.

At her behest, the fleet had split up and headed to different locations within the sector until they could properly regroup. She had no idea if the First Order would pursue them after destroying their base at D’Qar, or if they had simply been making a show to scare them given that they had essentially lost the support of the Galactic Alliance with Tyron Valrisa now serving as Chief of State. Either way, she was not about to take any risks.

As she watched the personnel move about the base, Leia noticed Kaydel Ko Connix approach her and the young woman snapped off a quick salute. “Incoming message from Fulcrum, General,” her surrogate niece said.

Leia nodded her thanks before moving into a private section of the base to take the message. The lights in the room dimmed as the distinctive sigil of Fulcrum materialized before her. Since the inception of the Rebellion, the codename of Fulcrum had been passed down from person to person, extending even into the early days of the New Republic until it was retired by Intelligence. The current holder of the name was Iella Wessiri, wife of her old friend Wedge Antilles, although there were others under Iella’s command that also used the codename when needed. Leia had no idea if it was Iella she was speaking to now or someone else… but she supposed that was the point.

“General Organa,” Fulcrum began, “have you successfully relocated from D’Qar?”

“Yes,” Leia replied. “We were able to evacuate with minimal casualties. We lost a few fighters, but for the most part we are all in one piece. Although I can’t help but feel that it is because the First Order allowed us to escape. I can’t imagine why, though….”

“Undoubtedly they have become confident in their rule. More sectors in the Outer Rim have fallen to their jurisdiction and the Galactic Alliance is all but under their thumb now. In their eyes, we are little more than a minor nuisance to them.”

“Then perhaps we should become more than just a ‘minor nuisance.’ Do you have any intel that we can use?”

“Nothing solid at the moment. With Agent Rar still missing, we don’t have as many eyes and ears on Coruscant that we would like.” Fulcrum paused for a moment. “What are the grid coordinates of your present location?”

“Nern seventeen,” Leia replied.

“We do have an agent on Darkknell. In their latest report, they said they had uncovered some important intelligence on the Malvis Cabal which might still prove useful even if the Cabal itself as an entity is no longer a concern after what happened on Ord Talavos.”

Leia nodded in contemplation. Shortly upon arriving at Crait, she had received a report from Booster Terrik, informing her that he and his crew had successfully escaped from the Ileennium system; he had also given her information he had received regarding the Cabal’s collapse on Ord Talavos, although he had also noted that his source may or may not have been completely reliable. In any case, the Errant Venture and Wild Karrde were now en route to meet up with said source to verify these claims and, in Booster’s own words, “take care of some errands.” Leia wasn’t sure what he had meant by that, but she trusted him to carry out whatever operations he needed to. Besides, keeping their forces divided was the strategy for the time being, so it was ideal that the Errant Venture went on its own path.

Regardless of the state that the Cabal was in now, any information on them would likely give them a lead on the First Order’s own operations, given how closely associated they were with one another. Any intelligence this agent had would be invaluable.

“I can send someone to meet up with this agent,” she said. “Do they have a name.”

“They simply go by ‘Gray.’ I will transmit you his coordinates now.”

After receiving the coordinates, Leia looked back up at the symbol of Fulcrum. “Thank you, Fulcrum. We will make good on this.”

“I trust that you will. Fulcrum out.”

With that, the symbol faded away and Leia was left alone in the room. Stepping back outside into the main hangar bay of the Crait Base, Leia scanned the vast room and spotted Rey and Finn on the other side, speaking with chief technician Rose Tico. Again, Leia felt that fleeting feeling; that feeling of cold that she had learned to associate with the dark side. And again, it passed like a winter breeze.

She wished that Toah was here so she could speak with him regarding his apprentice. But she knew he was with Booster’s crew after having been rescued by them following his failed mission on Coruscant. Hopefully whatever this errand was wouldn’t take them too long so that he could return and guide his apprentice.

Or, perhaps, she could provide guidance of her own….

Leia shook her head. She had long decided that the Jedi path was not for her, even if she did keep her lightsaber around at her brother’s insistence. Perhaps when this was all over, she would consider becoming a formal member of the Jedi Order… but until then, she had a resistance to build. 

And with the way things were going, it was going to take quite a bit of time.

*  *  *

“What’s that around your neck?”

“Oh, this?” Rose Tico pulled out the crescent-shaped medallion she had around her neck, tucked within the collar of her shirt. “It’s an Otomok medallion, made from Haysian ore. Have you ever been to Hays Minor?”

“Can’t say I have,” Finn replied, although he withheld himself from wincing. While he had never been to Hays Minor, he had heard of it as part of the Otomok system. It was one of the many remote worlds out in the Outer Rim that quietly suffered from the First Order’s operations, years before it had made itself known. More than a few of his fellow stormtroopers had come from the Otomok system, and he had even been stationed there to oversee the mining operations.

But he did not dare say any of this to Rose. His status as a former stormtrooper was no secret and he did not want to jeopardize any potential friendships by reminding people of that fact.

“I don’t blame you,” Rose went on. “It’s pretty remote, and people only care for its minerals. Kind of like this planet, I suppose.” She looked down at the medallion, smiling wistfully. “My sister Paige has a matching one.”

“Is she with the Resistance?” asked Rey.

“Yup. Member of Cobalt Squadron. She commandeers one of those rickety old MegaFortress bombers.”

“I’ve seen them in the hangar bays but never in combat,” Finn said. “They don’t look particularly… efficient for space combat.”

Rose snorted. “Because they’re not made for space combat. They’re atmospheric, made for dropping bombs on ground installations. They are space capable, but their bombs would just float around in space rather than fall on their target. Maybe if the conditions or positions were just right….” She shook her head. “But that’s neither here nor there.” Tucking the medallion back under her shirt, Rose turned her attention to Rey. “So, how was your trip?”

Rey stared at her. “I’m sorry?”

“You guys took a ship and left when General Organa was about to give you and your master a mission. Where did you guys go?”

Finn could tell Rey was glancing at him but he merely inclined his head, avoiding her gaze. He did not want to bear any responsibility for her blatant disregard of orders, putting his own standing with the Resistance at risk by dragging him along with her. He doubted she was going to face much of a reprimand given that she was a Jedi and not technically part of the command structure, and he was certain that the only reason he hadn’t been reprimanded yet was because of the First Order attacking as soon as they had returned to D’Qar.

He did not want to say that he resented her for this. But he would also be lying if he said that he didn’t.

“We went to Batuu,” Rey finally said. “I had a… premonition that we had to be there.”

“Oh.” Rose slowly nodded as if she understood. “Is that a Force thing or something?”

“Yeah. It’s a bit hard to explain.”

Finn restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Try explaining it to the Generals.

“All right,” Rose said. “Well, it’s a good thing you guys got back here safely, and brought Agent Moradi back with you. Stars know we can use all of the help we can get, especially if that help is from a Jedi.”

Finn glanced at Rey, and although she kept her face impassive he got an… inkling that her heart was swelling with pride.

“Anyway, I should get back to work.” Rose turned to leave. “It’s been nice talking with you.”

“Same,” Rey said and Finn muttered his agreement. Once she was gone, he turned to Rey and fixed her with a raised eyebrow.

“You left out the bit about Ronyards.”

“She doesn’t need to know about that,” Rey said dismissively.

“Are you going to leave that out of your report to General Organa? She’s going to ask, you know. And there wouldn’t be any use lying, considering who she is and who she’s the sister of.”

“I don’t need your advice,” Rey all but snapped and Finn took a step back in surprise. “I can handle myself.”

Finn opened his mouth to retort but stopped himself. There were already a couple of workers looking at them and he did not want to cause a scene. Instead, he sighed in resignation. “All right. I’ll leave it to you then.”

Rey gave him one last look—one that he couldn’t tell if it was defiant or remorseful—before turning and walking away. Blowing out his breath, Finn went his own way, hoping that he would find something to do in this base that would take his mind off things.

The Errant Venture

“You didn’t tell Leia about—”

“I know,” Booster growled.

“That’s a pretty big thing to not—”

“I know, Jarsan,” Booster Terrik snapped, slamming his fist on his desk before wincing from the pain it caused his old, tired bones. “I didn’t want to tell her because I knew she would want us to meet with her straight away. And we need to get this business with the Veiled Sorority sorted out.”

Toah Jarsan huffed in exasperation as he paced in Booster’s office. He had told the old smuggler about his suspicions that the son of Varon and Lysira, all three of whom they had captured as soon as they had been brought on board, was possessed by the spirit of Darth Vorath. He wasn’t sure how much Booster believed him, but it seemed to be enough to put the boy in solitary confinement, away from his parents whom Toah had heard Vorath had also been able to control back on Naboo.

He knew what Vorath was doing. The Dark Lord was toying with him. The fact that his daughter—a woman who had just learned that he was her father—was also on board was something that the Sith would no doubt exploit. There was already so much at stake that he did not want to have to worry about losing his daughter to the dark side… if that was what Vorath had planned for her.

Perhaps it was because of this that he was partially glad that Booster was getting straight to the rendezvous point with the Veiled Sorority, who had the mother of his daughter captive. Perhaps being reunited with her biological mother would give her the anchor she needed to stop her from falling down that path; after all, it had been Luke’s love for his father that had stopped him from being fully turned by the Emperor, an evil that had been even greater than Vorath. Perhaps his daughter would show the same strength.

Having calmed down, Booster leaned back in his seat and brought out a bottle of Corellian ale. After taking a swig from it, he cleared his throat and looked at Toah, his red cybernetic eye glowing slightly. “So, she’s your kid, huh?”

Toah sighed. “They’ve told you already, I take it.”

“Even if they didn’t, I probably would have still figured it out. Just got that Corellian instinct, y’know?” Booster winked with his brown organic eye. “I take it that ‘Valrisa’ isn’t her real name.”

“No, but I don’t know what is. I… I left before she was even born.”

Booster grunted. “Ah. So you’re one of those type of men. Y’know, if my son-in-law had pulled something like that to my daughter, he’d be a dead man. The Force wouldn’t be able to save him.”

Toah smiled slightly. “I don’t doubt that. But it wasn’t my decision. She wanted me to leave. She knew we wanted to live drastically different lives from each other and did not want to bring our child between us.”

“Do you regret leaving?” Booster asked.

Toah stopped pacing. He closed his eyes as he pulled his mind back to that moment twenty-seven years ago, when he and Dani had parted ways. He had only been a Jedi Knight for four years and had spent most of his years as an errant knight traveling through the Outer Rim. He had missed out on quite a few major events that had occurred at the Jedi Praxeum, including Kyp Durron’s fall and the Empire Reborn’s attack. Perhaps it was because of this that, during this time, he was starting to become unsure of his place in the Jedi Order. He had started to feel this way when Master Skywalker had briefly fallen under the Emperor’s thrall and it did not go away when he had returned.

When he had first met Dani Kieran during one of his outings in the Outer Rim, he had felt a way he had not felt in a long time. He had had a couple of summer flings growing up on Dantooine, as well as a quiet infatuation for Cray Mingla during her brief time with the Jedi, but none of them had left an impression as lasting as Dani had. And unlike the others, it was not left unrequited.

When she had revealed to him that she was carrying their child, he had seriously considered leaving the Jedi. While attachments were not as verboten as they had been before the Purge, they were still discouraged due to a Jedi’s lifestyle. A lifestyle he had been feeling conflicted about for the past five years. A lifestyle he had been more than willing to give up if he needed to.

But instead, she pushed him away. She would not let him give up on the path he was already on. And perhaps, given all that happened the following decade with Darth Vorath and his Sith, that had been for the best. Perhaps she had known that he would be needed to quell the coming darkness. Or, perhaps, it had simply been the will of the Force.

A will that he still did not fully grasp after all this time.

Sighing, he said, “No. But I do regret not seeking her out during my self-exile. Perhaps instead of sulking on Deralia, I could have sought her out and reunited with her. Maybe… maybe I could have helped her find our daughter.”

Booster snorted. “Well, you did find her. It just took you, what, twenty years?”

Toah shook his head. “I suppose it’s better late than never. I still worry about what Vorath might have planned for her.”

“You really think it’s him?”

“I know it is.”

Booster shrugged. “I’ll take your word for it.” He then groaned as he got up from his seat, his old bones cracking. “Anyway, it’ll be some time before we get to Numidian Prime. Might wanna rest and conserve your energy.”

“I’ll do my best,” Toah said as he headed for the door. “But it might be hard to rest when you know you have a Sith Lord on board.”

*  *  *

She did not know who she was.

For her entire life, she had known her name to be Sare Valrisa. But now she knew that to be a lie. 

She was not a Valrisa; she was abducted by one in order to fulfill some sort of quota. 

Her name was not Sare; that name was a corruption of the one who had abducted her to begin with.

Without meaning to, without even realizing it, she had been reunited with her biological parents, and she did not know how to feel about it. Her real mother had captured her and obfuscated her true identity while killing the mother she had known. Her father was a Jedi who apparently had never sensed the distress she had been in and come to her rescue.

Her entire life had been a lie… and now she was starting to wish she had never learned the truth.

“Such is the agony of knowledge.”

She shot up in her bed, breaking into a cold sweat. Typha continued to sleep peacefully next to her, blissfully unaware of her anguish.

“So much has been kept from you,” continued the voice that had woken her. “By your parents, by your captor, by the Jedi… all of them have been dangling the branch of truth in front of your nose only to snatch it away when you try to take a bite.”

She stared straight ahead and saw what appeared to be a silhouette of a figure manifesting in front of her. It stood out in the darkness of the room only by being darker than everything else.

“I know you have brushed with the dark side before. I can sense it in you. You have so much potential that has not yet been tapped. Would you like to feel it again? That raw, untamed power of the Force?”

Her mouth was dry. She could barely swallow. She felt that if she tried, she would gag and throw up.

“Tell me, Cera Jarsan. All you need to do is ask.”

All she could do was stare at the shadow as she processed hearing her name—her real name—for the first time.

Then, the lights turned on and the shadow dissipated with the rest of the darkness.

“I just thought you should know,” said a small droid with a large bulbous head, standing with its servo over the light switch, “that I’m feeling very depressed.”

“Blast it, Marv,” Typha growled as she pulled a pillow over her head. “Why can’t you just stay in shut down for the rest of your life?”

“Life.” MR-V bowed his head solemnly. “Don’t talk to me about life.”

The woman once known as Sare Valrisa groaned as she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She had been saddled with the droid ever since the Dowager’s death and their failed attempt to find a slicer who could access his memory banks and derive information on the Malvis Cabal. Now that the Cabal was more or less moot at this point, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do with the droid.

“Turn off the lights, Marv,” she muttered, about to lay back down.

“I don’t think you heard me,” MR-V said. “I’m feeling very depressed.”

“You’re a droid. How can you feel anything?”

“Well, for one thing, I feel inexplicably compelled to relay you a message from my master.”

She sat back up and narrowed her eyes. “Your master is dead.”

“Not this one.”

MR-V’s green optical sensors turned blue as they projected a holographic image into the room, manifesting into the form of a tall, distinguished man. Her heart caught in her throat as she immediately recognized it to be the man she had previously thought to be her half-brother, and now the current Chief of State, Tyron Valrisa.

“Sare Valrisa.” The older man spoke the name as if it was an invective. “I know that is not your real name, because I now know the truth about you. If you are seeing this, it is because my family’s MR servant droid is in your presence. Which means that I am always in your presence. There is nowhere in the galaxy you and your friends can hide from me.

“If you would like to know the truth about the lie that has been your life, then meet me on Sedratis within seven standard days. That seems like a fair number, doesn’t it? Seven days. Seven heirs. One of which you are not, I am sad to say. But if you help me find and eliminate the last heir, then you will be pardoned for the crimes you have already committed against the Galactic Alliance through your allegiance with the so-called Resistance.

“Until we speak again… Cera Jarsan.”

With that, the hologram dissipated and the woman now known as Cera Jarsan launched forth a series of curses and otherwise incredibly vulgar words while Typha merely looked on in shock and bewilderment.

“See?” MR-V said as his optics returned to their original color. “Now you’re depressed, too.”