Star Wars: Tales from the Jedi Order - No Rest for the Weary

NO REST FOR THE WEARY

 Geonosis, 22 BBY

The smell of smoke choked the air. The presence of smoke obfuscated his vision. Eeth Koth had no idea where he was. He wasn’t even sure if he was still alive.

His whole body felt numb, but his connection to the Force had not dulled. He could sense that someone was moving him, pulling him out of the wreckage he had found himself pinned under. Focusing himself, Koth withdrew into his mind to retrace the steps he had taken to bring himself to this moment. He remembered Master Windu briefing him and two hundred other Jedi on their mission to rescue Obi-Wan Kenobi on the planet Geonosis. He remembered battling against a legion of battle droids and Geonosians, watching as his fellow Knights were gunned down and slain. He remember boarding a gunship provided as part of reinforcements led by Yoda himself. He remembered the gunship being shot down by enemy fire and sent plummeting towards the ground. And then… darkness.

He opened his mouth to take in a breath and instantly let out a ragged cough. He then felt a hand gently press down on his chest as he was laid down on the ground.

“Easy, Master Koth,” he heard a familiar voice speak calmly. “Let the Force give you strength.” 

Rubbing soot out of his eyes, Koth managed to open them wide enough to see his surroundings. He was still on Geonosis, surrounded by searing sand and towering rock formations. In front of him laid the burning wreckage of the gunship he had boarded with Masters Sora Bulq and Tarados Gon. Bulq himself stood beside Koth, using the Force to heal his injuries, but there was no sign of Gon. Koth closed his eyes to shut out the gruesome sight, instead listening to the sounds of battle in the distance.

“Where are the others?” he croaked, his voice weak.

“Preoccupied, I’d imagine,” Bulq replied. “I’ve sent out a distress call. Hopefully someone will pick it up and find us, before the Separatists come back to finish the job.”

Koth shook his head. He was still struggling to grasp the scope of this whole situation. When he and the rest of the Jedi Council had learned of the Sith’s return ten years ago, he could not have even begun to imagine what it would mean for the galaxy. He had, of course, heard tales of the Sith and knew about the galaxy-spanning conflicts between the Jedi and the Sith that had lasted for thousands of years. But never once had he thought that the Sith would ever return, let alone in his lifetime. And now, the galaxy was on the verge of a conflict the likes of which it had not seen in nearly a millennium. Were the Jedi prepared to defend the galaxy from such a conflict? That was a question that Koth didn’t think even Master Yoda had the answer to.

Of course, he didn’t know for a fact that the Sith were behind this. But ever since Master Qui-Gon’s report and subsequent death, Koth had felt the growing darkness. This conflict only exacerbated those feelings.

The nightmares are going to get worse, he dreaded.

As he began to use what little energy he had to heal himself, Koth spotted another one of the clone gunships fly over to his and Master Bulq’s position. As it landed, its side doors opened up and two of the white-armored clone soldiers disembarked, each one carrying a medpac. Accompanying the clones was a grizzled human male, the stern features of whom Koth instantly recognized as those of Master Tholme.

“Master Bulq, Master Koth,” Tholme said to them in acknowledgment. “I am glad to see you are both alive and well.”

“Yes, although Master Gon was not as fortunate,” Bulq said, nodding to the wreckage of their gunship.

Tholme bowed his head solemnly. “He is one with the Force now.” Changing the subject, he then said, “The Separatists are in a full retreat, and Count Dooku has escaped. We are picking up as many survivors as we can before taking further action.”

As one of the clone troopers applied the medpac to his wounds, Koth looked up and narrowed his eyes at Tholme, feeling that something was amiss here. “Forgive me, Master Tholme, but I do not believe I saw you at the briefing. I thought you were staying at the Temple.”

Tholme acknowledged his comment with a stiff nod. “Yes. And as far as anyone else is concerned, I am still there. My network has been tracking Count Dooku’s movements for some time now, and while Geonosis may have caught us off guard, we have a reasonable guess as to where he might move next.” He turned his attention to Bulq and placed a hand on the Weequay’s shoulder. “Master Bulq, if you are up to the task, I would like you to accompany me.”

“Of course, Master Tholme,” Bulq replied. “I am always ready.”

The other clone trooper with a medpac offered it to the Weequay Jedi. “Sir, your injuries—”

“Are minimal,” Bulq cut him off. “Master Koth needs it more than I do.”

“Let’s get him back to the command center and then we can proceed with our mission,” Tholme said. “Can you stand, Master Koth?”

Koth winced as he slowly got up to his feet. The clone trooper tending to his wounds helped him up and allowed the Zabrak to use him as support. “I… can manage,” he said.

“Good. Let us make haste. Count Dooku awaits.”

With that, Tholme and Bulq swiftly made their way back to the gunship, with Koth staggering behind with the aide of the clone trooper. Perhaps it was because of his wounds, but he found it difficult to summon any amount of energy that would match the zest that his fellow Jedi were demonstrating. A small part of him, ashamedly, wanted to go back to where he was laying and just rest there, waiting for this whole thing to blow over.

But there would be no rest for him today. There would be no rest for him for a very, very long time.

*  *  * 

The nightmares had gotten worse.

For the past decade or so, ever since Master Qui-Gon had first informed them of the Sith’s return, Koth had began to see a dark figure in his dreams. For the first few nights, it had barely been noticeable, forgotten in the background. Then it had become more prominent, making its presence known yet still too vague to really make out any details.

Now, he could he make the dark figure out clearly, although they never turned to show their face. Their black cape fluttered in the wind as they stood atop a high precipice. Below them, fire consumed a helpless village as the corpses of innocents piled up. Screams rang out from all directions as a woman’s voice called out in panic.

“No, not my baby! Please, don’t take my baby!”

Koth always woke up at that moment, breathing heavily as his body broke out in a cold sweat. He was always able to clear his mind through meditation, but it was a cycle that had become more and more frequent in recent years, even more so with the war well underway. He had yet to inform any of his colleagues about this occurrence, not wanting to worry them and add on to the stress that the war had already caused. He knew it was not right to withhold such secrets… but he was also worried of what they would think of him if they did.

As a member of the Jedi Council, Koth felt that he was expected to represent the ideals and highest standards of the Order. If the others found out that he was suffering from nightmares, would they remove him from the Council for fear of how the nightmares had affected his mental health? Would they worry that the dark side had clouded his mind too much for him to serve as a level-headed and clear-minded judge?

Koth knew that his introduction into the Jedi Order had not been a standard one. Rescued from the slums of Nar Shaddaa, Koth had nearly been deemed too old for training until the Council had ultimately relented after realizing the clarity of his mind. It had been because of that clarity that he had been accepted into the Order, selected as a Padawan by Master Kosul Ayada, and completed his trials, eventually sitting on the Council himself. He had gotten to where he was now because of the clarity of his mind; if that was now in jeopardy, then so was his own status within the Order.

He knew it was against his training to be possessive about anything, but his place in the Jedi Order was all he had. He did not know where he would turn to if he now longer had the Jedi Temple to call home. His mind went back to his former apprentice Sharad Hett, who had voluntarily left the Order in order to be with his family. Of course, tragedy had forced him to go into exile on Tatooine, but before that he had had a family to go to. 

Koth did not have a family. As an orphan, he had no recollection of his parents and knew not of any other living relatives, if he even had any. As far as he was concerned, the Jedi were his family. If he didn’t have them, he would have no one.

He hung his head low, ashamed. Jedi were not supposed to be attached, and yet here he was feeling attached to the Order. If he could not function as a person without letting go of the Order, then was he truly a Jedi?

Perhaps he would simply start his life anew. That was what Sharad had done after the tragedy that had afflicted his homeworld; he had found a Tusken woman on Tatooine and bore a son; a son who now served as an honorable Jedi Knight himself. When he had lost his family, Sharad had started a new one. Maybe that was something Koth could do….

A chime sounded at the door to his quarters and he quickly perished the thought. It would have to wait, until after the war was over. Then, if the nightmares persisted, he would decide where his future lied.

After putting on his tunic, Koth walked over to the door and opened it. A clone trooper with green and yellow markings on his white armor stood before him, snapping to attention with a quick salute.

“General Koth, we have just received our new orders,” said Captain Lock. “Command wants us to track down the Separatist raiders that have been attacking hyperspace routes. We have a lead already that will take us to the Arda system.”

Koth nodded. “Very well, Captain. Set a course for Arda.”

He took in a breath as he braced himself for the mission that laid ahead. There would be no rest today.

*  *  *

The nightmares had stopped.

At first, Koth had taken this as a good sign. The war had finally taken its toll on him and he had been forced to admit to his colleagues on the Council of the dark visions that had been plaguing him for the past ten years. Worried about his mental state, the other Masters had no choice but to remove him from the Council, yet they had encouraged him to seek meditation and even directed him to remote worlds that were attuned with the Force where he would be able to find some peace of mind, away from the war. But he had no intention of taking their advice. He had already made his decision.

The nightmares had persisted for a short time after he had left the Order. Then, one day, they had miraculously stopped. He had already found himself a new home on a planet well on the edge of the Outer Rim, joined a local clergy, and was on his way of becoming a man of faith. He had found a new calling. A new family. He was finally at peace.

Then, the following day, the Republic fell.

The Jedi had been branded traitors by the Supreme Chancellor, who now called himself Emperor, and everyone Koth had known was now either dead or in hiding. Thirteen years after Master Qui-Gon had delivered his warning, the Sith had finally returned and taken their revenge.

The nightmares had stopped because they had become reality.

No one on his new homeworld knew who he was. When he had left the Order, he had decided to adopt a new name to reflect the new chapter he had started in his life. Eeth Koth was no more; he was now A’Kosul Sharad. His new identity was an homage to both the Jedi who had trained him as well as the Jedi he had helped raise, while also taking inspiration from Tusken naming culture. Just as A’Sharad was named for his father in accordance to Tusken tradition, Eeth named himself after the closest he had ever had to a father figure. 

There was no chance the Empire would be able to track him down through this new name. Only those closest to him would be aware of the inspiration behind either name, and by this point they had likely already perished in the Purge.

Five years elapsed. A’Kosul Sharad continued his new life in peace, blissfully unaware of the outside world. The Empire had no presence on this world, its name difficult to find in even the most comprehensive of databanks. He was now a priest in the Order of the Ganthic Enlightenment, and he had been able to find love, just as Sharad had in his exile. Her name was Mira, and while she was a great deal younger than him, their love for each other burned brighter than any sun. Their love, if one wished to be poetic, could ignite the stars.

And, as of today, it had borne new life.

“Congratulations,” the midwife droid intoned. “It’s a girl.”

A’Kosul beamed as he looked down upon the infant cradled in the droid’s arms. She was the most beautiful thing he had laid his eyes upon since he had first met his wife. He instinctively held out his arms but stopped as he glanced over at Mira, laying on her bed as she recovered from the exhausting birth.

“May I… may I hold her, dear?”

Mira smiled at him, tired yet still full of life. “Of course, darling. She’s yours.”

He had only taken a step forward when the door opened, bathing the room in light. A dark shadow eclipsed the sun and a chill passed through like the wind of winter. A long, almost mechanical exhalation of breath preceded the vocalization of a name he had not heard spoken in five years.

“Eeth Koth.”

He felt his body freeze up as he looked upon the dark man standing in the doorway. He recognized the figure to be the one from his nightmares. The one who had haunted him for thirteen years.

“No,” he breathed. “Not here. Not now.”

The dark man stepped forward as A’Kosul raised his hands, conscious of the fact that Mira was watching them both with a confused and terrified expression.

“You don’t need to do this,” he said calmly. “I’m not him anymore. I’m no one. No threat to anyone.”

The dark man took another step towards him.

“I’m just a priest now,” A’Kosul continued. “I bring people peace. Officiate weddings and funerals. That’s all. I have no loyalty to the Jedi; not after they kicked me off the Council.”

As he spoke, he kept his arms to his sides, moving his right hand in a secret gesture that only Mira would be able to detect and understand. The people of this world had a special way of communicating through gestures, something which had helped ensure the Order of the Ganthic Enlightenment’s secrecy for countless years. Clearly it had failed now if the Empire had been able to find them, but perhaps it would buy his wife and child some time. Mira picked up on his signals and quietly ordered the droid to bring her their daughter. The dark man did not pay her any heed, keeping his attention solely on the Zabrak man in front of him.

“Listen,” A’Kosul said evenly. “If you just go… leave us be… I can offer you something. I have codes. Secret contact frequencies. I can tell you how to find other survivors. Just… let us live.”

It was a bluff. He knew deep down in his heart that he could never betray the Jedi he had considered his family for so many years, even after they had failed to help him when he had needed it. He knew this, and the dark man knew as well. The Dark Lord of the Sith simply stared at him through the opaque lenses of his mask as he uttered a single word.

“Funerals.”

A’Kosul narrowed his eyes. Time had run out. It had been fun while it had lasted.

With one hand, he seized the midwife droid with the Force and hurled it at the Dark Lord. With his other hand, he blasted a hole through the brick wall, creating an opening wide enough for Mira to escape through. Keeping his attention focused on the Sith, he ordered her to run and she wasted no time in fleeing through the newly-made escape route, holding their baby tightly in her arms.

Turning to a nearby alcove, he called upon the Force again to summon his lightsaber to his awaiting hand. The Council had allowed him to keep it when he had left the Order, trusting him enough that he would only use it to defend himself rather than to deliver his own form of justice in the name of the Force. He had stayed true to his word, and for the first time in five years he ignited its emerald blade, shining as brightly as it had been when he had first constructed it. The hilt felt comfortable in his hand, having modeled after the lightsaber of his own teacher after Master Ayada had become one with the Force. It had seen much use over the years; perhaps today it would serve him one last time by slaying a Sith Lord.

Adopting the traditional opening stance of the lightsaber form Shii-Cho, holding his blade high and ready, Eeth Koth smiled grimly at the Dark Lord.

“Now… let us pray.”

Leaping high into the air, he let out an emotional cry as he lunged at the Sith Lord. No longer bound by the Jedi Code, he did not hold back. He let the Force carry him, subjecting himself to its raw and utter nature. He was not going to take any chances; not when he finally had something to lose.

There would be no rest today.

Star Wars Destinies Retold: From the Ashes, Chapter One

A rewrite of the first two scenes from Destiny I, Chapter 1.

CHAPTER ONE

 One year later

The planet of Ord Radama was far from what one would consider a peaceful world. Although its marshes and wetlands had long since been overtaken by urban sprawl, this did nothing to address the thunder and lightning storms that plagued the planet. The capital city of Livien Magnus, named for a pre-Republic state, had gone through constant stages of destruction and rebuilding over the course of its long history, whether it be a result of natural causes or external forces. One could hardly fathom why anyone would want to live in such a place; the native Devlikks had such short lifespans that it hardly mattered to them.

Admiral Viic Argen held little regard for the planet. In the years he had spent stationed in the planet’s orbit aboard the Star Destroyer Recrimination, he had never once set foot on the planet and only knew of its nature from the ground forces under his command. Having been born and raised on Anaxes, Argen was used to a life of hard-earned luxury and did not care for the worn-down, underdeveloped planets that made up most of the Outer Rim Territories. While Ord Radama may have held some value of historical significance thanks to its status as an Ordnance/Regional Depot, it did little to change his perception of it, and he looked forward to the day when he would inevitably be called away from the system to do battle with Rebel forces.

Yes, rebels. He refused to acknowledge their recent declaration of a New Republic, not so long as Coruscant remained in Imperial hands. Yes, Sate Pestage had been removed from the throne, leaving the Empire in the stewardship of Director Ysanne Isard, and yes, the rebels had achieved quite a few victories against a number of Imperial warlords. But the warlords were just that: warlords. Opportunistic military men who thought they knew how to run the Empire better than the Ruling Council.

Still, they provided a useful distraction. With their forces stretched thin across the galaxy as they dealt with the likes of Zsinj, Delvardus and the Teradoc brothers, the rebels were unable to amass enough strength capable of taking Coruscant. So long as they remained preoccupied, then the Empire remained in safe hands.

Of course, there was one element that worried him. Over the past year, since the death of the Emperor, he had begun to worry that the man he served under was beginning to have the same delusions of grandeur as the warlords. As Moff of the Esstran sector, Nil Nihan was entrusted with overseeing a region of the Outer Rim that had been of great importance to the Emperor. Argen never really knew why, nor had it ever been in his position to ask. Yet Nihan had clearly allowed it to get to his head, especially in the wake of Endor. Recently, he had taken advantage of Grand Moff Nivers’ capture to declare himself Grand Moff of the Oversector that encapsulated Ord Radama and the Esstran sector, even as Zsinj moved to annex much of Nivers’ territory for his own little fiefdom.

While Zsinj had yet to make a move at Ord Radama, Argen worried that when that time came Nihan would either pledge himself to Zsinj’s forces or allow himself to be drawn into a spat with the warlord, becoming no better than the rest. Argen had no desire to follow such a fool, whether it be Zsinj or Nihan, and had every intent of fleeing to Coruscant should it ever come to that.

Until then, Argen would dutifully serve Nihan as he had for years. But that did not mean the Moff was entitled to his loyalty.

The admiral was broken away from his thoughts when a young ensign in the bridge’s crew pit spoke up to him. “Sir, an Imperial shuttle is requesting permission to dock.”

Argen glanced over at the officer while his second-in-command, Captain Vil Kirus, walked over to observe the ensign’s station. “Have they submitted a clearance code?”

“Yes, sir, but….” 

The officer trailed off and Argen flashed him a glare of annoyance. “But what?”

“It checks out, but the shuttle itself does not appear to be registered in our system.”

Argen narrowed his eyes, looking down at the nervous officer. His hooked nose and overbearing command style had led to many to refer to him as “the Vulture Admiral” (not to his face, of course). Rather than take this as an insult, Argen wore this moniker like a badge of pride. After all, vultures always got what they want and showed no mercy to any who got in their way.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he growled.

Kirus saved the ensign from answering as he looked at the younger man’s monitor for himself. “The shuttle does not appear to be present on any official records. It is transmitting its transponder code as Omega-13, which does not appear in the registry.”

“Yet its clearance codes check out.” Argen tugged at the pointed white tuft of hair that formed his beard. “How intriguing….”

As he pondered on the matter, he noticed a new arrival on the bridge and stiffened slightly as he stood to attention. Moff Nihan, for all the grievances Argen had with him, was an imposing man. Standing at 2 meters tall, with broad shoulders and a full brown bears, the Moff’s presence commanded the attention of everyone around him. His footsteps seemed to echo like thunder as he strode across the bridge, approaching Admiral Argen with his head held high to make it clear that he was the one truly in command. The officers may answer ultimately to Argen, but Argen himself ultimately answered to Nihan.

Perhaps noticing the slight consternation on the admiral’s face, Nihan inclined his head towards Argen. “What is it?”

Argen explained the situation to him and Nihan wasted no time in providing his recommendation. “Let it aboard. I will greet them personally myself.”

Argen could not censor himself from a frown. “Moff, are you certain that is wise? We do not know who could be aboard the shuttle. For all we know, it could be carrying an assassin or a bomb.”

“Then whoever it is has a death wish,” Nihan said firmly. Without waiting for any further objections, he turned to depart for the hangar bay. Sighing ruefully to himself, Argen followed him, leaving Kirus in command of the bridge in his absence.

By the time they reached the hangar, the Lambda-class shuttle had already docked and a deployment of stormtroopers had been dispatched to surround it. Taking position behind the white-armored soldiers, Argen and Nihan watched as the shuttle lowered its boarding ramp, kicking up a cloud of steam that momentarily obfuscated its descending passenger. When it finally cleared, Argen was startled by what he saw.

The figure was clad in red robes, not unlike the Royal Guards that had once defended the Emperor, yet it was clearly not one of them. In fact, it was not even organic at all. The droid seemed to have the stature of a B1 model battle droid, yet its cranium had the appearance of a helmet with a smooth glass dome. It walked with purpose, making a straight beeline towards Moff Nihan, and was undeterred by the stormtroopers that had their blasters raised at it.

The droid came to a stop within five feet from Nihan, who appeared as befuddled by its appearance as Argen was. Then, the image of a face appeared within the droid’s glass dome, and Argen felt his heart skip a beat.

“Moff Nil Nihan,” the voice of the long departed Emperor Palpatine spoke from the droid. “If you are seeing this message, then it means I have perished… and that you have failed to protect me.”

Argen glanced at Nihan, and for the first time in his life saw the Moff’s composure falter. He knew that Nihan had idolized Palpatine; to hear such accusatory words were sure to be a blow to his ego.

“However,” the Emperor continued, “unlike others, you are still of great use to me. As governor of the Esstran sector, you have oversight over a collection of worlds that are of great… importance to me. Enclosed within this droid are coordinates to a hyperspace route that has been declared off-limits for two decades. Follow the route to a planet known as Korriban. Once there, this droid will provide you with your next directions.”

Nihan stared agape at the droid that bore the Emperor’s visage. “I… yes, Your Majesty. I shall do as you command.”

The image of the Emperor’s face dissolved and the droid held out a servo. Tentatively, Nihan extended a hand and the droid took it into its own. From its digits, it extended needles that pricked the Moff’s hand hard enough to draw blood, eliciting a wince from Nihan. 

As it retracted its needles and lowered its hand, the droid intoned in a monotonic voice, “Blood sample accepted. The coordinates have been transmitted to your vessel’s main computer.”

Nursing his bleeding hand, Nihan turned his gaze to Argen, who met his eyes evenly. “Well then,” the Moff said. “Let us not keep him waiting.”

*  *  *

“I can’t accept this, Skywalker.”

“You have to, Admiral. Because I’m not taking it back.”

Admiral Gial Ackbar regarded Luke Skywalker with a look that he could only assume was the Mon Calamari equivalent of a frown. Luke had spent enough time serving under Ackbar to know when the admiral was not happy, and a part of him still felt guilty for having to do this. But he knew it was something he had to do, if only for his peace of mind.

“I hereby resign from service in the New Republic Defense Force.”

Ackbar sighed in a manner that suggested he had been expecting those words, even if he did not want to hear them. “This is about Mindor, isn’t it?”

Luke bowed his head, seeing no reason to withhold the truth. “Yes, sir.”

“Skywalker, you can’t blame yourself for what happened. Lord Shadowspawn was… unlike anything we had faced before. Just from the details of your report, I’m not sure how anyone—even a Jedi Knight such as yourself—could have defeated him any other way.”

Luke shook his head. “Even so, Admiral, I can’t in good consciousness continue serving after what happened on Mindor. All of those people are dead because of me.”

“Because of Shadowspawn,” Ackbar retorted. “He was the one who engineered everything to occur as it did.”

“And I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it.” Luke looked Ackbar directly in the eyes, his lips a firm line. “Were it anyone else, Admiral… if it wasn’t ‘General Skywalker’ standing before you here today and someone else, someone who isn’t a Jedi Knight… would you not demote them for their failure at Mindor?”

Ackbar opened his mouth but no words came from him. The Mon Calamari seemed to be at a loss for words. Not waiting for him to regain his composure, Luke turned to depart from the admiral’s office.

“It has been an honor to serve under you, Admiral,” Luke said sincerely. “And I will continue to aid the New Republic in any way I can. Just as it was the Jedi Knights’ duty to defend the Old Republic, so it will be mine to defend this one. But I realize now that Jedi are not meant to be soldiers. My duty lies elsewhere.”

These words seemed to at last deliver the point home as Ackbar nodded his head in acknowledgment. “I respect your decision, Skywalker, even if I don’t fully agree with it,” the Mon Calamari admiral said somberly. “I hope you find fortune in your future endeavors. May the Force be with you.”

Luke offered him a tired smile. “And with you, Admiral.”

As he made his way from the admiral’s office towards Home One’s hangar bay, Luke had hoped to feel the weight on his shoulders finally be lifted… and yet by the time he made it to his X-wing starfighter, he realized he didn’t feel any different now as he had before. The events of Mindor still weighed heavily on his mind and conscious, the screams of all those who had perished still fresh in his mind. He had made several attempts to meditate these troubled thoughts away, but it was difficult to concentrate with so much going on around him. Shadowspawn may have been defeated, but there were still other Imperial warlords for the New Republic to deal with, even as the prospect of retaking Coruscant from Imperial control loomed over them.

He needed to get away from it all. Somewhere that was secluded and far away from all the fighting. He briefly considered returning to Dagobah, which he had not returned to since Yoda’s passing, but quickly dismissed the thought. Dagobah was hardly an ideal world for peace and quiet, and it was a planet already steeped in the dark side if his vision in the cave was anything to go by. He needed somewhere new. Something different.

As he settled in the seat of his fighter, Luke brought up his navigation console to peruse the worlds logged into his database. The name of one planet immediately jumped out to him, although he wasn’t quite certain why.

Dantooine. He had been to the planet before; it had been where he and Red Squadron had rescued Tycho Celchu from Imperial custody shortly after the Battle of Yavin. There wasn’t much to the planet itself, having nothing much of interest besides farmland. It was also located within the Imperial splinter state known as the Pentastar Alignment, although they had little presence on the world itself; so thin were defenses that Lando Calrissian and his team of commandos had been able to steal a cloaked starfighter from Dantooine in order to use it in their own campaign against the Empire.

Despite having little of any interest in terms of strategic value, Dantooine’s name kept drawing Luke’s attention back to it even as he considered other worlds. Perhaps it was exactly the kind of planet he was looking for; a world so remote and out of the way that not even the Empire would bother him much there. Whatever the case was, it was clear that the Force was leading him there, and Luke saw no reason to ignore it.

Putting his flight helmet on, Luke started up his X-wing and plugged in the coordinates. Resting in his astromech socket, R2-D2 intoned a few chimes which were then translated onto Luke’s on-board translator. Luke smirked as he glanced at the translated script.

“I know there’s nothing on Dantooine,” he said. “That’s why we’re going there.”

R2-D2 continued to question his choice of destination and Luke simply shook his head.

“You need to relax. We’re owed a break every once in a while. Especially after the week we just had….”

R2-D2 let out a low tone, indicating his agreement. The astromech made no further objections as the X-wing lifted up and flew out of the Home One’s hangar. Once its hyperspace calculations had finished, it made the jump to lightspeed, heading for its new destination.

Star Wars: First Order of Business, Part 10

10: THE LIES WE TELL OURSELVES

 Mimban, 8005 C.R.C.

Kylo sat beside Ren as they huddled together in their makeshift hut, hidden deep in the jungles of Mimban. The other Knights were outside, scanning the perimeter to make sure they would not be disturbed by any of the native Mimbanese. Tomorrow, they would set out in search for the kyber crystals rumored to grow on the planet. According to historical records, there had been a particular crystal, known as the Kaiburr Crystal, that had been the subject of worship to the natives of Mimban, but it had since been removed and was last known to be in the possession of the Jedi Order. Still, there were known to be shards of the Kaiburr Crystal scattered across the galaxy, and Ren was working off the hunch that there still would be some on Mimban, twenty-six years after its removal from the Temple of Pomojema.

It had taken some time, but Kylo had finally managed to put down the mask of Darth Vader and it was secure aboard the Night Buzzard. He was still trying to process—or even recall—what it had shown him, and he had not spoken a word of it to Ren. For his part, Ren had not asked him about it, and Kylo secretly hoped it would stay that way.

“I’ve been at this for a long time, kid,” Ren said after several minutes of silence. He sat on his haunches, having removed his helmet to reveal his face. His face was still relatively youthful, which contrasted with his mop of white hair. Kylo had no idea how old he was, other than that he was old enough to remember the reign of the Empire and perhaps even the end of the Clone Wars, although how much of that was just regurgitation from second-hand accounts was anyone’s guess. “I was about your age when I took everything I have now—my name, my lightsaber—from my predecessor.”

Kylo glanced up at him. He had removed his mask as well, holding it in his lap. “There was a Ren before you?”

“Yup. In fact, there have been plenty. The Knights of Ren are a gang that have been around for a long time, yet not many people know about us. We stick to the fringes of galactic civilization, just out of reach of any galactic government that wants to ruin our fun.”

“Did you have a different name before you became Ren.”

“Sure I did.” Ren gave him a genuinely sheepish smile. “But it’s been so long that I’ve already forgotten it. Probably because it never really fit me, you know? Like, I was meant to be called Ren. Who I was destined to be. Whoever I was before that point is long dead, and deserves to be buried.”

“Isn’t that similar to how the Sith operate?” Kylo asked. “They abandon their old identities and adopt new ones, even changing their names.”

“A lot of them did, sure.”

“But you’ve told me we aren’t Sith.”

Ren snorted. “Kid, there’s a lot more to this galaxy than just Jedi and Sith. Sure, you’re gonna get similarities between groups and maybe even some overlap in beliefs, but we’re just as separate from the Sith as those Zeison Sha guys on Yanibar are separate from the Jedi. A lot of cultures share an origin point; we’re kind of like branches on a tree, if that makes sense.”

Kylo wasn’t sure if it did, but he supposed that answer would have to do. In all the years he had spent with the Knights of Ren, this had been the most Ren had ever felt like an actual teacher to him. He wasn’t going to ruin the moment by being a clueless student.

“I think Snoke said something similar once,” he mused aloud, watching Ren carefully to see if he would react to the namedrop. Since Kylo had joined the Knights of Ren, the subject of Snoke had seemed to be verboten, with Ren and the others always changing the subject whenever he brought up his first mentor.

But rather than shut down and clamp up as Kylo feared he would do, Ren instead smirked at him. “Hey, the old man may be crazy but he’s got a few nuggets of wisdom here and there.”

“What exactly is your connection to him?” Kylo asked, seizing the opportunity to finally get the answers he sought. “How did you come to meet him?”

Ren chewed on his lip and Kylo started to worry he was about to shut down on him again. His master then said, “He reached out to us. Said he needed an artifact that was hard to find. We got it for him and we’ve been his go-to guys ever since. Simple as that, really.”

Kylo frowned. He somehow found it unlikely that it was that simple; Ren’s brief tone suggested to him that there was more to the story that he wasn’t letting on. He was getting tired of having secrets being kept from him. Ren was just as guilty of it as Snoke had been, and he just about had enough of it.

Sighing heavily, Kylo asked, “What is all of this leading to? It’s been seven years and I still have no idea why Snoke sent me to you. It feels like all we’ve done is collect artifacts, but to what end? What is Snoke planning to do with all of this?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, kid,” Ren replied. “And I mean that. Sincerely. I get that you feel like I’m keeping you in the dark, but I honestly have no idea what any of this is about. I’m going with the flow, doing what we normally do. Maybe Snoke has other things in mind for you, but I’m not the person to ask about what those other things are or what his timetable is. You’d have to ask him yourself.”

Kylo scowled. “Then how do I? I have no means of contacting him.”

“Neither do I. You don’t call Snoke, kid. Snoke calls you. That’s how it works.” Ren picked up his mask and placed it over his head as he rose up to his full height. “I know that’s not the answer you’re looking for, but that’s the truth of it all. Fate never warns us when it’s gonna find us. All we can do is go about our lives and wait for that good death.”

Kylo stood up as well, placing his own mask back over his face. “What was with that business on Vjun, then? My memory of it is foggy….”

“We were supposed to trade the mask you found on Endor for a kyber crystal,” Ren explained. “Apparently the guy worships Darth Vader or something. Problem is, the crystal turned out to be a dud. And, well, you wouldn’t let go of the mask anyway. So now we’re here, looking for a crystal that actually works.”

“And the crystal is for the lightsaber we got on Naos?”

“Yup. Another artifact for Snoke’s collection. Of course, we still need to find the other one. He’s not gonna be happy with an incomplete set.” Ren then shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe when we deliver it to him, you’ll be able to ask him all your burning questions.”

Kylo doubted he would get that opportunity, seeing as how they rarely made direct contact with any of their clients. But he decided to let the matter rest. They had a long day ahead of them, and right now he couldn’t afford to be distracted by curiosity. He could only hope that this conversation with Ren marked some sort of progress in terms of their relationship as teacher and student.

At the back of his mind, Kylo thought about the mask of Darth Vader and what it had shown him, but he pushed such thoughts away. When the time was right, he would return to it. He knew it would still be there, waiting for him to plunge once more into the darkness. It had shown him the true power of the dark side… and he couldn’t wait to get another taste of it.

*  *  *

Hosnian Prime

Hali Pavan, the woman otherwise known as Lola, took a deep breath as she sat in a dark room. She had silenced her personal comlink after it had started to buzz incessantly, no doubt being bombarded with calls from her bandmates as they wondered why she had yet to join them at the theater.

She was ashamed to realize that she regretted putting them in this position. She hadn’t intended on growing attached to them, but spending so much time with them had caused her to become sympathetic to their upbringings and goals. It made her regret fabricating a story to make them think she was just like them, having gone through a similar plight.

The truth was, Lola had never been a slave who had revolted against her masters. Hali Pavan had been born and raised on Coruscant into a family of considerable wealth. Her father had worked for the HoloNet while her grandfather ran a popular if at-times controversial news site. By the time she was born, the Empire had collapsed and the Pavans had chosen to stay neutral in the ongoing conflict with the Rebel Alliance. While her grandfather had been a staunch supporter of Palpatine, he had little faith in the government of acting Emperor Sate Pestage and could not have cared less when the New Republic retook Coruscant from the control of Ysanne Isard. Life went on and Hali Pavan would have lived an otherwise ordinary life… until she enrolled at the University of New Alderaan.

It had been there that she had met Ingo Wavlud, who then introduced her and several of her peers to a new way of life. At first she had balked at the idea of worshiping a man that had already been dead a year before she was born, yet Wavlud had found a way to make her see the truth. It was on that fateful day that she and many others, including her boyfriend at the time, became Children of Vader. When they had attempted to spread their message, the University had caught wind of their activities and expelled them, forcing them to retreat to Vjun where Wavlud helped them continue their studies.

Determined to spread the word of Vader, she had decided to indulge in one of her side interests—that being music—and created the persona of Lola. It was through this identity that she attracted the likes of Jani, Ryara, and Sheela, pretending to share their experiences, and together they had formed a band that purported to spread such concepts as freedom and empowerment.

But it had all been a lie. Hali had initially hoped to use the persona of Lola to simply convert Jani and the others, bring them over to her side, but that changed when some of the Children decided to take a more… extremist route. Wavlud had introduced a new member to their fold and she had quickly assumed the role of leader, something which they had never had before. She convinced the others that the only way to spread the word of the Dark Father was through the means of violence; to destabilize the New Republic and expose its head of state for who she really was. Hali wasn’t sure if she liked the idea, but she was alone in her way of thinking and was forced to go with the plan.

It had been her hope to keep her lives as Lola and Hali separate, but the others had forced her hand. She was going to be a part of this whether she liked it or not. Four years ago, this wouldn’t have bothered her in the least. But now her devotion to the Dark Father had waned and she was no longer certain if this was the life she really wanted.

It didn’t matter, of course. It was too late to go back now. This was her future, whether she liked it or not.

An AZ-series surgical assistant droid hovered up to her and held up a mirror to her face. She held in a gasp as she stared at a face that was no longer her own.

“The facial transformation program was a success,” the droid said. “Are you satisfied with the results?”

Hali swallowed, her mouth dry. “Yes,” she managed to say.

“Excellent.” The droid floated away, leaving Hali alone once more. A few minutes later, a holoprojector hummed to life and the full-sized image of an armored figure materialized in front of her.

“Ah. I see you have already undergone the surgery. Very good. We’re going to need you to film the next broadcast.”

Hali nodded, suddenly starting to feel nauseous. “Who’s going to play the other role? With Mill dead….”

“We have already found a suitable substitute. Everything will proceed as planned.”

“Great.” She swallowed hard, hoping her anxiety wasn’t obvious to the other person. “The others aren’t going to be hurt, are they?”

“What others?”

“My… my bandmates. They won’t get caught in the crossfire, will they? You were able to avoid injuring them on New Alderaan….”

“Only because you were with them, and we needed you. But you are here now and not with them. What happens to them now is out of our control.” The figure shrugged dismissively. “Their lives are ultimately meaningless, as they are blind to His Darkness. Unfortunate, perhaps, but such is the way of things.”

Hali chewed on our lip, fighting back tears. “And the funds…?”

“Have already been transferred.” The other person sighed heavily. “I didn’t think compensation would be required for your service, seeing as how you are already of our faith. Your faith should be reimbursement enough.”

“Wavlud told me that I was being asked for a lot and promised I could have whatever I wanted in return. If you have a problem with it, take it up with him.”

“Whatever,” the other sniffed. “So long as you complete the tasks that are required of you. In thirty minutes, it all goes down. I’d make sure you’re far away from Republic City when it happens.”

“I’ve already booked a hotel in Darropolis. I’ll be fine.”

“Good. I will speak with you again soon.” With those words, the hologram dissolved away. As soon as it did, Hali buried her hands in her face and started to sob uncontrollably. She didn’t know if it was from nervousness or guilt (or both), but she just let the tears flow out. She needed to get it out of her system so she could focus on what she needed to do next.

When she had finally calmed down, she noticed that fifteen minutes had already elapsed. She would not have enough time to call for transportation to take her to Darropolis; by the time she got to the station, everything would be shut down because of what was about to happen.

So instead, she waited. She leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and waited.

Another fifteen minutes crawled on by. Then, she heard the explosions.

She listened to them as she just lay there, her eyes dry with no tears left to shed. She stopped looking at the chronometer and did not know how much time had passed when they finally stopped. Then, she allowed sleep to finally claim her.

Star Wars: First Order of Business, Part 9

9: DARKEST BEFORE THE DAWN

 The Millennium Falcon, 8005 C.R.C.

“We need to get a lawyer,” Han said.

Leia did not acknowledge his comment as she watched the message replay again on the HoloNet. Similar to the last message from the Children of Vader, red text was scrolling against a black background. However, the person standing in the video was not the masked figure from last time… but her, wearing nothing but the Huttese dancing-girl outfit she had been forced into twenty-four years ago, dancing provocatively. Red Aurebesh text flashed briefly on the screen, and R2-D2 had managed to pause it to show what it said.

“EXPOSE THE TRUTH.”

The Leia in the video then turned around so that her back was facing the camera, reaching behind to undo the cords holding together her metal brassiere. Before it could fall off, the footage cut out, showing only another set of red text on the black screen.

“OR WE EXPOSE YOU.”

The message had played on a loop for nearly half an hour before the HoloNet finally managed to retake control of their network, issuing an apology for the incident. But the damage was already done; far more exploitative networks such as TriNebulon News had already taken advantage of the situation and were spreading rumors about the video, plastering their articles with snippets of the recording beneath salacious and slanderous headlines. She knew that by the time she got back to the Senate, she was going to be bombarded with all sorts of questions from her colleagues, and her political rivals were sure to weaponize the whole situation.

Which was entirely the point, she realized. Whoever these Children of Vader were, they were trying to destabilize the New Republic, and the best way for them to do that was to attack the character of its head of state. She had seen it done countless times before, most notably by the Rebellion when they had spread propaganda against the Emperor. She had even overseen and approved some of those pieces. And now she was on the receiving end of it….

“This counts as defamation, right?” Han went on. “Look, I’m no expert, but I know a thing or two, and this definitely strikes me as something we can—should tackle.”

“I can see if I can get in touch with Salli Georgio,” said Lando. “She’s retired now, but I’m sure she come back out for this.”

Leia shook her head. “It won’t be that simple. We don’t know who these terrorists are or who is leading them, so it would be impossible to treat them as an actual legal entity in a court of law. We need to solve that first before we can carry out any legal action.”

“Then get Intelligence in on it,” Han said. “I’m sure Cracken’s people can find out who these guys are.”

“I don’t doubt that, and I have already tasked Intelligence with investigating these past couple of events.” Leia sighed as she turned off the holoprojector, putting the recording out of sight. “But it won’t fix the damage that’s already been done to my reputation. The opposition is going to have a field day with the knowledge that I had once been slave to a Hutt; that I had once been put in such a vulnerable position.”

Han rubbed his chin. “Maybe we can find a way to use that to our advantage.”

Leia looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. “How so?”

“Remember that band we saw? Something and the Huttslayers? Those girls seemed to be using your… er, dancing outfit as a symbol of empowerment. And I know there must be some sort of recording of you wearing it while you killed Jabba; it’s why the Hutts have started using fewer dancing girls, or giving their slaves more modest clothing. They’re afraid of the power it has now.”

Leia smirked. “You’re not suggesting that I, as a forty-seven year old woman, put on a skimpy outfit in order to fight against some terrorists?”

Han rolled his eyes. “No. But I am suggesting you reach out to that band. Maybe get them a gig at one of the capital worlds to balance out the public perception or something.”

While Leia mulled on the idea, Lando shifted in his seat by the holotable. “Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m not sure that footage is legit. I was still in disguise after Jabba had captured you, and I don’t think I ever saw him make you dance like… that.”

“He didn’t,” Leia admitted. “My guess is that they used a model and superimposed my face onto it… or perhaps commissioned a human replica droid.”

“Not likely,” Han said. “The only producer who can make HRDs that look that good is Thrumble Industries, and they don’t exactly make them for anyone who asks for one.”

“Still, it might be worth checking in on them.” Leia sighed as she took the seat next to the engineering station, rubbing her temple. “I wasn’t expecting such a simple celebration to turn into such a big mess.”

“I don’t think anyone was,” said Lando.

“The problem is… it feels like I should have foreseen it. If I had finished my training when I had the chance… when Luke was still—” She stopped herself, not wanting to let her emotions get the best of her, even in a private setting such as this. She trusted her husband and his best friend, yet after seeing the Children of Vader’s latest broadcast she couldn’t help but feel she had to be on the defensive, no matter where she was. She didn’t feel safe, not even here in the hold of the Millennium Falcon. 

Han walked over and knelt down next to her, putting a hand over hers. “Hey. Don’t you worry about that, okay? We’ll get through this. Just like we always do.”

Leia smiled at him, even if it was a sad smile. Her husband always knew how to put things in a more positive light… which was quite ironic given how cynical he had been when they had first met.

The tender moment was interrupted by the chime of the navigation computer. Han sighed ruefully as he stood up and headed for the cockpit.

“Back to work, I guess,” he muttered.

Yes, Leia said to herself. Back to work.

*  *  *

Hosnian Prime

“No matter what, don’t speak a word of this to Mom,” Jacen said.

Jaina rolled her eyes as she and her siblings stepped down the ramp of the Best Chance, having landed on Hosnian Prime where their mother had asked them to meet her. “I don’t think we can really avoid it, Jace. It’s pretty much the biggest bantha in the room. In fact, I’m pretty sure she called us here to talk to us about it.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t want anyone of us to be responsible for bringing up the subject. Just feign ignorance until she brings it up.”

“I think you’re making this a bigger issue than it already is.”

While his siblings continued to bicker, Anakin stopped to look back at Chance, who was still on the ship leaning against the ramp piston. “You’re not coming with us?”

“Nah,” Chance replied, looking around the opulent cityscape of Hosnian Prime with a wary expression. “This isn’t exactly my scene. Too much politics for my liking. Besides, I’ve got a hot date with a beautiful Mirialan lady on Chandrila. Not polite to keep a lady waiting, right?”

Chance winked at him, but Anakin could tell he wasn’t giving him the full truth. A part of him did not want to pry, but when he saw Chance’s hand move for the switch to close the ramp, he quickly blurted out the question on his mind. “Your dad is here. Don’t you want to say goodbye to him first?”

Chance frowned. “Nah, I’m good.”

With that, he pressed the control panel and closed the ramp. Anakin stepped away as the Best Chance started up its engines and lifted up from the platform, blasting up into the sky. Sighing in disappointment, he turned to catch up to his siblings. Jacen was taking the lead and appeared rather determined in heading towards his destination… which wasn’t the Senatorial Complex, Anakin quickly noticed.

“Uh, didn’t Mom asked us to meet her at the Senate Building?” he asked.

“She did, but we’re not going there right now,” Jacen replied. “There’s something I want to check out first.”

“What is it this time?” Jaina asked. “Vjun was a dead end; we didn’t find any leads.”

“If you take everything that professor said at face value said, then maybe. But something about that Wavlud guy rubbed me the wrong way; I feel there has to be more to him than meets the eye.”

“All of those guys rubbed me the wrong way,” Jaina muttered. “So what, you think you’ll find something on him at the information center?”

“Not the information center,” Jacen said. “There’s a detective I know who I think might be able to help us. He lives here on Hosnian Prime and he’s on relatively close terms with Mom and Dad.”

“How come I’ve never heard of him before, then?”

“I only happened to meet him a couple of years ago, while I was helping with cleanup on Coruscant.” Jacen glanced back at his siblings and smiled assuringly. “Don’t worry, this won’t take long. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Jaina sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that….”

*  *  *

“Scandalous. Truly scandalous.”

While her words sounded appalled, Senator Carise Sindian’s tone was anything but, betrayed by the gleeful smile plastered on her face. She and her colleagues had just arrived on Hosnian Prime, one of the rotating homes for the Galactic Senate while Coruscant underwent repairs following the cataclysmic final battle of the Imperial Sith War, although they had already seen the recent broadcast from the Children of Vader several hours ago. As she lounged in the comfortable seats of her personal office, Senator Ransolm Casterfo stood at the window, staring out at the skyline.

When Casterfo made no response, Sindian leaned forward to pour herself a glass of Polanis wine. “It is truly quite reprehensible, wouldn’t you agree? For royalty like her to stoop so low; to dress in such a salacious manner. Why, how do you think her children must feel? I imagine they must be horrified to look upon their own mother in such a way!”

“It was against her will,” Casterfo muttered.

Sindian looked up sharply at him. “What was that?”

“It was against her will.” Casterfo turned around to face her, a heavy look in his eyes. “Everyone knows the story. She was captured by the Hutts while trying to rescue Han Solo. They forced her to dress like that.”

“I know that.” Sindian eyes Casterfo carefully as she sipped her wine. “But how much of the general public is aware of that story? And if they are, how many of them believe it?”

Casterfo looked at her confused. Sindian sighed and shook her head as she set down her glass.

“I don’t think you get it, do you? The context of the outfit doesn’t matter. The image does. Symbols have meaning, Ransolm, and the image of our Chief of State in a revealing outfit is one of the most powerful images you could ever conjure.”

Casterfo narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t tell me you had anything to do with this?”

“Of course not,” Sindian said with faux outrage, putting a dainty hand to her chest. “But it’s clear where the sympathies of these terrorists lie and we can use that to our advantage. We can make the best out of this horrible situation and use it as a means to take control of the New Republic.”

“Is that all this means to you? People are dead because of these terrorists, and all you care about is power?”

Sindian shrugged. “An unfortunate price to pay. But we will avenge their deaths once we take control from Leia and wipe out these petty attention-seekers, proving to the galaxy that the New Republic is not a power to be trifled with. Through strength, we achieve peace. Is that not what we stand for?”

Casterfo shook his head as he cast his gaze back outside the window. “Maybe so, but I never thought it would come to this.”

“I know.” Sindian smiled as she laced her fingers over her chest. “But remember, it is always darkest before the dawn. But the dawn is coming. I am sure of it.”

*  *  *

“I am glad to hear you are safe and sound, Chief Organa Solo,” stated the holographic form of Dif Scaur, the recently appointed deputy director of New Republic Intelligence. With Airen Cracken getting on in age, he had selected the former admiral to share his role as director of intelligence, with the intent of having Scaur take on the position full-time entirely once Cracken had officially retired. While Leia was not as familiar with Scaur as she was with Cracken, she knew enough about him to trust him in fulfilling his duties to the letter.

“Thank you, Director,” Leia replied as she sat at her desk in the administrative office. “How fruitful was your preliminary search on these ‘Children of Vader?’”

“Somewhat fruitful. We were able to find internal records from the University of New Alderaan indicating that a number of students—including the one called Mill Arkham whom you apprehended—were participating in cult-like activities. They were also supposedly trying to convert their fellow students to their newfound religion, which was when the faculty put a stop to it and expelled the students. We were able to acquire a list of names associated with the expelled students… and from the looks of it, they were calling themselves the ‘Children of Vader’ even back then.”

“And how along ago was this?”

“Four years ago.”

Leia closed her eyes in concentration. Four years ago would have been a year before the outbreak of the Imperial Sith War. Just a year before that, they had been faced with an organization known as the Second Imperium, who claimed to be led by a resurrected Emperor Palpatine although it had in fact been a ruse set up by a quartet of Royal Guards. Still, the timing of it all was intriguing; to have a resurgent Imperial faction, a cult worshiping Darth Vader, and the return of the Sith occur all within the span of three years…. There had to be a connection between them all. She was sure of it.

Opening her eyes, she then said, “Anything else?”

“Well, shortly before the Children of Vader began their activities at the campus, a professor at the University abruptly resigned after getting in trouble with the staff for taking his students on an unauthorized field trip to Vjun. Most of the students in the cult had been on that field trip. The professor’s name was Ingo Wavlud.”

Leia nodded. This must have been what Jacen and his siblings had found to lead them to Vjun in their own investigation. She had to hold back a smile; it amused her to think that her children were already several steps ahead of some of the best minds in Intelligence, although she had yet to hear back from them after their return from Vjun.

“What do you have on this Ingo Wavlud?” Leia then asked.

“Very little so far. Supposedly born on Byss, a suspected Sith sympathizer, and author of the elusive Wavlud Manuscript.” Scaur smirked. “Clearly someone who has the markings of a cult leader, if you ask me.”

“I’ll leave that for you to uncover,” Leia said. “It sounds like you have a good lead so far. How do you plan on following through?”

“Right now we are considering dispatching operatives to both Vjun and New Alderaan. We will also look into the names of the other students and see if we can get into contact with any of them or their families.” Scaur paused as he looked over at something to his side, just out of view of the holoprojector. “We actually do have a lead on one of them already. Human female, standard age twenty-three. Born as Hali Pavan, but goes by the stage name of Lola.”

Leia stiffened, sucking in her breath. “What?”

“Apparently she’s part of a band called Lola and the Huttslayers. We actually have a visual on her.” Scaur’s holographic image shifted aside to display the profile of a young human woman. Leia’s mouth fell agape as she stared at the face she had just been introduced to mere days ago.

“She was on New Alderaan,” she murmured. “I watched her band perform. I even met her personally.”

Scaur grimaced. “Is that right? Because they just so happen to have a gig lined up here on Hosnian Prime, at the Madera Starros Theatre… which is only sixteen kilometers from the Senatorial Complex.”

Leia shot up to her feet. “Alert all security. Send as many units as you can to the Theatre.”

“Already on it, Chief.”

As Scaur’s image dissolved, Leia fetched her personal comlink and used it to hail her eldest son.

“Jacen, I need you and your siblings to get here right now. Director Scaur has just figured out where the Children of Vader are likely to strike next.”

“We’re visiting Captain Wallen,” Jacen replied. “He might be able to—”

“It can wait, Jacen. Hundreds of people are going to be in danger and I need the three of you to be alert and ready for anything.”

Jacen seemed to catch on to the severity of his mother’s tone as he dutifully replied, “On it, Mom. We’re on our way.”

Satisfied with that answer, Leia quickly switched channels to her husband’s comlink. “Han, we’re probably going to have more trouble on our hands. Either here or at the theater. Or both.”

“Got it. What do you want me to do?”

“Stand by for now. I just wanted to give you a heads up before—”

She heard a chorus of screams and she whipped around to look out at the window. Down below, a crowd of people were gathered in the streets of Republic City, screaming… no. Not screaming. Cheering. An airtaxi flew above them, carrying a trio of young attractive women. Leia narrowed her eyes as she recognized the members of Lola and the Huttslayers riding in the cab, waving back to their adoring fans. She could not help but notice that Lola herself did not appear to be among them; it was just the other three—Jani, Ryara, and Sheela. If the absence of the band’s leader and namesake perturbed the crowd members, they did not display it through their incessant hoops and hollers.

“Before what?” Han asked over the comlink.

“Before I lose my mind.”

Star Wars: First Order of Business, Part 8

8: A PRECIOUS PIECE OF HISTORY

 Endor, 8005 C.R.C.

Pommet Warrick knew he was in trouble.

His parents had warned him many times to never venture outside of the village without supervision from either them or any of the other adult villagers. But if there was anything he had inherited from his parents, it was a daring sense of adventure and a streak of rebellion that could not be quashed by any form of authority.

Growing up, he had been told many stories about his father’s adventures, from escaping the Gorax, fighting dark witches and Duloks, all the way to destroying the Metal Moon in the Sky. His father hadn’t been that much older than Pommet was now when he had embarked on these adventures, and Pommet saw no reason as to why he couldn’t have adventures of his own, so that he too could have stories that would be passed down on to his own children.

Navigating carefully through the forest that surrounded the Bright Tree Village, relying on his memory of the treks that Uncle Paploo would often take him on, Pommet had eventually made his way to a clearing which he knew to be the location of the Demon Spirit’s grave.

Twenty-four years ago, on the day the Golden One had come to liberate the Forest Moon of Endor, a malevolent entity whom the Golden One had referred to in his tongue as “Darth Vader” had been vanquished by a heroic knight and his body had been set ablaze in a funeral pyre not far from the Bright Tree Village. No one knew why the knight had given such an honorable funeral to such an evil being, but Pommet chose to believe it was because of the good in his heart. Everyone deserved a peaceful end, even if their actions did not warrant it.

The pyre was now nothing but mud and soot, yet a piece of the Demon Spirit’s body remained, never to be fully vanquished. Its charred ghastly skull laid among the ruins of the pyre, staring up at those who dared to approach it. Pommet had glimpsed it once when his father took him out this far while regaling him with the story of the Golden One’s arrival, and now he wanted to take a closer look. His mother had warned him against it, worried that the skull would be enchanted with dark charms, but he would not let that sway him away from his objective.

However, as he came to the location of the skull, he quickly saw that he was not the only one to have come here.

Emerging from the other side of the forest was a tall figure clad head-to-toe in black. They were virtually impossible to see under the cover of night, although Pommet’s eyes were well-attuned enough to darkness that he could make out the stranger. Their appearance was evocative of descriptions of the Demon Spirit as well as other dark forces that had threatened Endor in the past, yet Pommet was surprised to realize he was not scared of the being. If anything, it was curiosity rather than fear that he felt.

From the shadows, he watched as the dark one approached the remains of the pyre, stepping towards the charred skull. Each step he took was decisive and hesitant, almost as if he himself was scared of the skull. When he finally reached the skull, Pommet braced himself for it to unleash its dark energies on the stranger, bombarding him with every malevolent spell that was contained within it.

Nothing of the sort happened. The stranger simply knelt down and picked up the skull from where it lay, although he treated it gingerly and with care, almost as if he was afraid to break it. For a long time, the man just stood there, cradling the skull in his arms as he looked down at it. Pommet remained perfectly still where he hid in the trees, daring to not so much as breathe for fear of attracting the dark figure’s notice.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the dark man turned away from the remains of the pyre and began to walk away, the charred skull still in his arms. It was only when he had vanished back into the forest did Pommet finally allow himself to let out the breath he had been holding. Not wanting to stick around in case the figure decided to return, he began to make his way back home. Now all he needed to worry about was the talking-to that his parents were surely going to give him. He doubted either of them would believe him if he told them what he had just seen, although the absence of the skull would surely be noticed eventually.

He only hoped that none of this was a dark omen for things to come….

*  *  *

Ren was still waiting by the ship when Kylo returned. He almost hadn’t noticed the passage of time since he had retrieved the mask of Darth Vader from its resting place. His mind was swarming with muddled thoughts, voices whispering indecipherable words in his ear. It almost felt as if the mask had taken a hold of him, guiding him back to the Night Buzzard and controlling his body as he navigated his way through the forest.

Upon noticing Kylo’s approach, as well as the item he held in his hands, Ren tilted his head in a show of approval. “That didn’t take long. How many Ewoks did you have to kill for it?”

“None,” Kylo dully replied. “I didn’t encounter any.”

“Lucky for them.” Ren stepped forward to meet Kylo halfway and reached out for the mask. Instinctively, Kylo pulled it away, holding it close to his chest. Ren seemed surprised by this action and seemed to debate himself whether or not to forcibly take the artifact from him. Instead, he merely retracted his hand and turned to head up the ship’s ramp. Wordlessly, Kylo followed him and closed the ramp behind them as soon as they were both aboard.

As the two of them stepped into the cockpit, Kuruk glanced up from the pilot’s seat. “Where to next?” he asked.

“Plot a course for Vjun,” Ren said, crossing his arms as he faced the viewport. “We’ve got an appointment with Dr. Wavlud.”

Normally, Kylo would have asked who this “Dr. Wavlud” was, but he was too lost in his thoughts to ask such questions. The mask felt as if it was glued to his hands and he could not take his eyes off it. As the Night Buzzard began to lift up from the ground, the voices in his head started to become clearer and he could finally make out what they were saying.

“I have been waiting for you.” The voice was deep and booming, reverberating in his head. “My grandson.”

Kylo peered into the eyes of Darth Vader’s mask as the void began to envelop his vision.

“Let me show you… the power of the dark side.”

*  *  *

Vjun

“Professor?”

Ingo Wavlud lifted his head up from his desk. The ceremony had concluded fifteen minutes ago, once the Solo children had departed from Vjun, and most of the students had returned to their dormitories. One student continued to linger however, and Wavlud was not surprised by who. Ever since she had been brought into the Children of Vader, Lumina Bast had been eager to fulfill her duty to the Dark Lord, and now that she was an official member, that eagerness had only blossomed further. She stood in the doorway to his office, eyes wide and piercing.

“Yes, Lady Bast?” Wavlud asked. “How may I help you?”

He expected her to inquire something in regards to her initiation, or about her faith to Lord Vader, but instead she swallowed nervously and said, “Someone is here to see you.”

Wavlud frowned in confusion as Lumina stepped aside, allowing a gang of eight to storm into the study. They were all clad in rusted black armor, although their leader had forgone a shirt in favor of showcasing his heavily scarred and burnt chest. One of them carried an item in their hands, and upon realizing what said item was Wavlud jumped up to his feet, pushing his chair back hard enough to topple it over as he regarded the artifact with wide eyes.

“Ah, at last!” the professor exclaimed. “Long have I awaited the recovery of such a precious piece of history!” He stepped around his desk and held out his hands. “Please, may I see it?”

“Good luck with that,” grunted the leader of the Knights of Ren. “Kid’s got his fingers practically glued to it.”

Wavlud’s face dropped in disappointment as he regarded the Knight carrying the mask of Darth Vader. The young warrior did not seem to even be aware of his presence, hyperfixated on the mask as he wandered aimlessly in the wake of the other Knights. He thought about reaching for the mask and taking it from him but something about the Knight and the aura he was exuding compelled him not to. Clearing his throat, Wavlud stepped away from him and returned his attention to Ren.

“Well then… in any case, it is good to know that the mask is in good hands,” Wavlud said wryly. “Your timing is perfect as well. The Children have just broadcast their next message through the HoloNet.”

“Message, Professor?” Lumina inquired, standing off to the side.

Wavlud waved a hand to dismiss her. “Don’t you worry about that. Shouldn’t you be returning to your studies?”

Lumina bowed her head in subservience as she quickly vacated the room. Once she was gone, Wavlud walked back over to his desk and opened up a hidden compartment. From it, he presented a red crystal, which he held up to the window, allowing Vjun’s sun to gleam off its scarlet surface.

“As promised,’ the professor said as he walked back up to the Knights of Ren. “The final piece of the puzzle.”

“You’re positive that this is the real deal?” Ren asked pointedly as he took the crystal.

“Would I lie to you?” Wavlud asked.

“No, but that doesn’t mean you know everything. It’s widely believed that Vader’s lightsaber was destroyed on the second Death Star.”

“And yet the Acolytes of the Beyond recovered said lightsaber on Taris.”

“So they say.” Ren shook his head ruefully. “I swear, all you cultists are the same. You’d believe the Dark Lord had come back from the dead if someone told you a convincing enough story.”

Not waiting for Wavlud to retort, Ren took the lightsaber of Darth Atrius from Kylo’s belt. The younger Knight didn’t even notice him, lost as he was staring at the mask. Opening up the lightsaber, Ren placed the crystal into the lightsaber before closing it back up and pressing the activation switch. The three emitters sputtered with sparks, and for a brief second red energy threatened to explode from all three ends. However, after a few seconds the lights faded out and the lightsaber became as dead as it had been before.

“Yup,” Ren said casually. “What I thought.”

Cardo cocked his arm cannon. “Let me kill this one.”

Wavlud’s face blanched as he hastily backed away. “No, please! I—I could have sworn—!”

“What is it with these collectors scamming us?” asked Trudgen. “Are we just having a bad day?”

Ren sighed. “Maybe. Unfortunately, we can’t kill him.”

“Aw, come on!” Ushar smashed the floor with his war club. “You killed the last one!”

“Because the last one didn’t have special protection from our boss,” said Ren. “We’ll just have to look elsewhere for a kyber crystal.”

Wavlud cleared his throat as he held up a finger. “Um, if I may—”

“Shut it,” snapped Vicrul. “You already fooled us once. We’re not letting you—”

Ren raised a hand. “Calm down, old friend.” To Wavlud, he said, “Out with it, old man. You’ve got ten seconds before we’re out of here.”

“There—there is a way to create a Sith kyber crystal,” the professor said. “The practice has been nearly forgotten due to the fall of the Sith Order, but… the ancient texts indicate that the first Sith Lords created their lightsabers by… bleeding their kyber crystals.”

Ren lowered the dead lightsaber and tilted his head in genuine curiosity. “Bleeding?”

“Yes,” Wavlud said, encouraged by the mercy Ren was displaying. “Some of the texts from Sorzus Syn described in detail how the Dark Lords poisoned the crystals they had found on Qalydon by pouring the dark side into it, bending it to their will. This, along with the improved lightsaber hilt designs from Tulak Hord, gave them the advantage the Sith needed in their brief yet chaotic retribution against the Jedi Order following their defeat at Corbos.”

“Enough with the history lesson,” muttered Kuruk. “Where do we find a kyber crystal?”

“Well, most of the words where they are grown have either been mined dry or are under the careful eye of the New Jedi Order.” Wavlud tapped his chin in thought. “You could also steal one from a Jedi.”

Vicrul barked out a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. Like it would just be that easy.”

Wavlud raised an eyebrow. “Given your reputation, I would have thought you Knights of Ren were more than capable of taking on a Jedi.”

“Oh, we are,” Ren said. “But our boss wants us to keep a low profile. Killing a Jedi to steal their lightsaber does the opposite of that.”

“Who says you have to kill them?”

“We do. We don’t play nice.”

Wavlud sighed. “Well, you can try scouring planets where kyber crystals have been recorded to grow. Ilum, of course, is off-limits for a variety of reasons, but you may find fortune on Dantooine or Mimban, or perhaps even Qalydon, if you’re lucky.”

Ren chuckled. “Come on, old man. You should know by now that if there’s anything we can agree with Jedi on… is that there’s no such thing as luck.”