Star Wars Endgame: Finale, Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

--Dromund Kaas--

    Paxis let out a wail as he was sent flying by a Force push from his former apprentice. Sedriss then lunged and swung her two blades one after the other at Varon, who deflected them both with his.

    "Your vision of the Sith was flawed from the beginning," Varon said, tightening his hold on his weapon. "It was naive of you to believe both Jedi and Sith could exist together in perfect unison."

    "Oh, I don't know," Sedriss said, splaying her twin sabers apart in an open stance. "Everything was going well until you started this uprising of yours."

    "You simply fail to understand." Snarling, Varon moved in to attack again. His tactics and fighting style were brutal yet swift, his blade moving in quick wisps of red as it clashed against Sedriss'. The Dark Lady was far more graceful in comparison, sharply reacting and responding to each move he made. Her experience in Jar'Kai provided her some leverage, but Varon's prowess in Form VI countered it effectively.

    As the two Sith dueled, Paxis returned to his feet and moved in to rejoin the fight. Just as Varon swung his blade in a maneuver that could have beheaded Sedriss, Paxis reached out with the Force and took a hold of his apprentice's arms, stopping him mid-swing.

    Varon turned his head to his former master, breathing heavily with built-up anger. While he was momentarily distracted, Sedriss got out of the way and raised her blades to disarm him. Just as the blades came down, Varon broke free from Paxis' hold on him and sprinted towards his master, belting out a rage-filled battle cry.

    The apprentice's lightsaber moved like a wave of crimson, clashing hard against Paxis' blade. As the master struggled to counter each one of his student's moves, he called out to Sedriss, who was getting ready to strike from behind.

    "Go, my lady! I'll hold him off!"

    "I'm not leaving you," Sedriss said firmly.

    "Please," Paxis said, Varon's attacks pushing him back. "The future of the Sith depends on you."

    Sedriss stood there for a pressing moment, debating over which action to take. Ultimately, she knew Paxis was right; she would be no use to her order dead.

    Sheathing her blades, Sedriss made a dash back for the temple. Varon briefly broke off from his fight with Paxis to try and stop her, but a slash across his back bought her the time she needed.

    Once inside the temple, she made for the hangar, where her personal ship awaited. A modified V-wing stealth fighter, it would hopefully get her past the Star Destroyer in the sky.

    As she got into the cockpit and readied the ship for take off, Sedriss took out her comlink to send an emergency broadcast. "Lord Kallus, Lord Serpriss, I'll be joining you shortly on Ossus."

    "Why?" Kallus asked. "What happened?"

    "I don't have time to explain. Just be ready for my arrival."

    Ending the call, Sedriss took a hold of the fighter's controls and shot out of the hangar as soon as the doors were open.

*  *  *

    The dark side was all that was holding Paxis together. All over his body he could feel his muscles failing, his bones weakening under the relentless attacks Varon brought down onto him. The boy he had once trained was gone now, replaced by a raging armored beast.

    Eventually, Varon's blade came down and Paxis didn't have time to react to it. His weapon arm was gone before he knew it and soon he was on the ground, clutching his severed bicep in agony. 

    Varon stood over him, his crimson blade still burning bright. "It needn't have come to this, master," he said coldly. "You could have joined me, had you so desired."

    "I will never join you," Paxis spat, glaring up at the masked menace. "I'd sooner die than betray my beliefs."

    Varon shrugged. "So be it then."

    He then raised his lightsaber and brought it down. Just as Paxis' body had gone limp, Varon looked up to see a sleek starfighter emerging from the temple and shooting off into the sky, activating a cloaking device as it went.

    Varon immediately raised the Resurgent on the comlink built into his helmet. "Captain, there is a V-wing starfighter headed your way. It's under a cloaking device."

    "Copy that. Do you want us to take it in or destroy it?"

    Varon was silent only for a moment before he replied. "Destroy it."

*  *  *

    Green lines lit up space as Sedriss maneuvered her ship through the hail of turbolaser fire that greeted her. One blast struck the fighter, disabling the cloaking shield and exposing her to the enemy. Cursing under her breath, Sedriss banked a hard left as the blaster fire increased.

    A squadron of TIE fighters started pouring out of the Star Destroyer's underbelly and headed straight for her. Not wanting to take any chances by engaging them, Sedriss hit the acceleration and sped for the hyperdrive docking ring that was her only means of escape.

    Emerald lasers shot across the canopy, narrowly missing her. One of the TIEs scored a hit on her right wing but she managed to keep her ship steady. The hyperspace ring was already in view; if she could hold them off for a little bit longer...

   Two TIE fighters shot directly over her, headed straight for the ring. Before she had time to react, both of them released a pair of proton torpedoes, which blew the docking unit to pieces. Shaken by this unforeseen change of events, Sedriss barely sensed the TIE fighters shooting behind her, and by then, it was too late. Before she knew it, her engine was gone and she was spiraling out of control....

--Mandalore--

    "So this is our wild card?" Danjus asked, gesturing at Kadar. "This aruetii?"

    "Kadar is no traitor," Orde said defensively. "His reputation may be an ill one, but he is still Mandalorian at heart."

    "I wouldn't go so far as to say that," Kadar muttered. "But for the sake of the matter at hand, I am willing to become one again to do what is necessary."

    Goran nodded curtly as he glared at Danjus. "Any further objections?"

    The Pantoran slumped in his seat as he looked away, folding his arms. "No."

    "Good. In that case--"

    Before Goran could continue, Benor Sardan abruptly got up from his chair, taking his helmet off the table. As he put it on, Medrit voiced the concern everyone else was showing. 

    "Benor? Are you all right?"

    "I'm fine," Benor murmured. "I just... need to get back to Keldabe. There's something I need to do. Go ahead and start without me."

    Before anyone could protest, Benor was already out the door, leaving the others to sit in silence.

    Orde cleared his throat to break the tension. "Well... that's one less asset."

    "We can't just let him leave," Danjus said, already standing up. "He could be going to Atinar and telling him about our activities."

    "Settle down, Danjus," Goran said. "I already have an agent in Keldabe to keep an eye or ear out for anyone who tattles on us. Besides, I don't think Benor is that type."

    "Who is he, anyway?" Mirta asked. "I know he only became Mando'a recently, when you and Medrit came back with him from Sicemon."

    "We don't know anymore than you," Medrit said. "He came to us claiming to have been a Protector left for dead by the Glorians. Beyond that, we don't know a thing about him."

    Kadar was staring at the door Benor had just went through. He then turned to Goran and asked, "What did you say his name was?"

    "Benor Sardan. Why?"

    "I knew a Benor Sardan, before I left the Mandalorians," Kadar muttered, almost to himself.

    "Oh? What can you tell us about him?"

    "He was born on Concord Dawn same year as I was. We used to play together as kids." He then affixed Goran with a hard stare. "He died fifteen years ago on Sicemon. And trust me, there is no way in Malachor he can still be alive."

Star Wars Endgame: Finale, Chapter Five

May the Fourth be with you!
EDITED 9/21/2016 Altered a line by Goran due to changes in future plot.

CHAPTER FIVE

--Coruscant--

    "How are you feeling?"

    Wallen groaned as he tried to lift his head up from the couch. His skull felt like it weighed a hundred tons. 

    "That you, Aunt Narriet?" he mumbled.

    He heard an exasperated sigh as an orange-skinned Kel Dor came into his line of sight, arms crossed. "You've been out of it all morning. You should be clear-headed by now... unless you drank more than the barkeep said you did."

    Wallen fixed his gaze on the Kel Dor, trying to put a name to the face. "I know you," he muttered.

    "You should. Who else has gotten you out of unpleasant situations before?"

    With some effort, Wallen sat up, trying not to get dizzy from the sudden blood rush. "Where have you been? Last time I saw you was on...."

    "Lianna," Xemer finished for him. "After I... left you there, I did work for the Glorian Empire. I had little other choice -- I was essentially their slave."

    "What about after? After the war ended? You didn't... you didn't come back."

    Xemer looked away, his expression difficult to discern due to his antiox mask and goggles. "I... was afraid there'd be bad blood between us. That you'd resent me for what I did."

    Wallen shook his head, which just made the headache worse. "I'm not that kind of guy, Xemer. I don't hold grudges for people who were just doing their job."

    "Really? Because you sure do seem to hate Girdun."

    Wallen scowled. "Girdun's a slime-ball. Who wouldn't?"

    Xemer chuckled. "Well, in that case, you're gonna love the job I have for us."

    "Will it involve a lot of movement? 'Cause right now I'm feeling as active as a Hutt."

    "We're going to kidnap Girdun."

    Wallen blinked, unsure if he had heard right. "Say again?"

    "Girdun is sure to have tabs on what's going on between the Alliance and the Imperials -- tabs which even General Loran wouldn't know about."

    "Wait... you know about all of that stuff? That the Wraiths and I were trying to do?"

    "I've been monitoring you guys for a while now," Xemer said. "So what do you say? You up for the task?"

    "Hold on just a minute: do you really think the two of us will be able to kidnap a man like Girdun? Given the fact that he and Maddeus are chummy with each other, he's bound to have a handful of security guards."

    "No worries," Xemer said. "I've scheduled a meeting with all of Wraith Squadron at the Spacer's Lounge in Eastport. We'll get things going from there."

    "All right," Wallen said as he slowly got to his feet. "What are we waiting for? let's go."

    Xemer's brow crinkled. "Are you sure you can handle yourself?"

    "Of course I'm--" Wallen promptly bumped into a table, nearly toppling over before catching himself. "...Sure."

    Xemer laughed. "If you say so."

--Mandalore--

    Two armored figures walked through the rainy streets of Enceri, water pouring down hard on their helmets. One of the two, a tall male clad in green and yellow armor, swore under his breath as his boot splashed in another muddy puddle.

    "Blast this cursed rain," he muttered. "If I slip and break my back, I swear I'll--"

    "You'd better get used to it, Danjus," replied his companion, a female in yellow armor. "You're not on Pantora anymore."

    "We never had this kind of weather there," Danjus went on and continued ranting to himself until the pair reached their destination; a rundown inn standing alone in the remote city. They entered the inn and found five other Mandalorians sitting around a table. One of them, a gray-haired man in blue armor, waved the newcomers over.

    "Mirta, Danjus, glad you could make it," said Goran Beviin. "Please take a seat, and we'll get down to business."

    "Are we safe here?" Mirta asked, looking around the inn. A cloaked man sat at a nearby table, while an old man swept the floors.

    "Don't worry, we're fine," Goran said. "What happens in the Old Mythosaur stays in the Old Mythosaur, is what the owner told me."

    "So we're really doing this then?" Danjus said as he removed his helmet, revealing a blue face and a head full of white hair. "We're really going to turn against Mand'alor?"

    "Atinar," Goran corrected him, scowling. "That pile of osik doesn't deserve the title of Mand'alor."

    "Even so, he's got his fair share of followers," Mirta said, taking off her own helmet as she sat between Orde Kaburn and Benor Sardan. "All of Clan Lok and most of Clan Vevut have sided with him, as well as what's left of Clan Vizsla."

    "They're all traitors," Danjus snarled, slamming his helmet down on the table. "He claims to be taking us back to our roots, but all he will succeed in is take us to our deaths."

    "But we are only seven, while he is many," said Tessa Xash. "How can we even hope to bring him down?" 

    "Only seven present," Goran corrected. "We have numbers elsewhere, albeit not as great as Atinar. Given enough time, I'm sure we'll have enough to lead a full revolution."

    "So what do we do until then?" Orde asked. "What can we do. if we're so little in number?"

    Goran glanced at his husband Medrit, who gave a curt nod. Taking a breath, Goran said, "We can play our wild card."

    The other Mandalorians looked at him, confused. "What wild card?" Danjus asked.

    Medrit leaned back in his seat and called out to the cloaked man. "You want to do the introductions, or shall I?"

    The man slowly got out of his and pulled back his hood. Mirta, Danjus, and the rest all gaped as the white-armored Mandalorian spoke.

    "My name is Kadar. I am of Clan Vizsla, though I have long denied my heritage. But now... I'm ready to take it back."

*  *  *

    "Vizsla? Vizsla!"

    Tral Vizsla did not break his stride as he walked towards Mand'alor's office, merely casting a glance at the young Twi'lek rushing up to him. "This better be important, Tahur," he muttered.

    "A shuttle just landed outside," Tahur said, trying to keep up with Tral. "It's Imperial."

    This brought Tral to a stop. He turned to look at Tahur, an eyebrow raised. "Why would there be Imperials here? They would've told Mand'alor in advance, I'm sure."

    "I don't know," the Twi'lek said, his head-tails swaying as he shook his head. "I just know they wish to see you as soon as possible."

    Tral bit his lip before moving past Tahur. "Tell Mand'alor I'll see him in a few minutes," he said as he went.

    Once outside, Tral found six of his commandos surrounding the Lambda-class shuttle, weapons raised. To his bemusement, the shuttle had yet to lower its ramp. Walking up to a yellow-clad commando, Tral said, "No one's come out yet?"

    The commando shook her head. "No. I don't know what they're playing at."

    As soon as she had spoken, the ramp of the shuttle finally lowered and a solitary figure stepped down. They wore all-black robes, with a hood over their masked face. Silver inlays radiated from the mask's visor, evidence of a cultural design Tral was not familiar with.

    Everything about them made Tral suspect they were a Sith, but not one he had met before.

    The figure came to a stop five meters from Tral, the edge of their long robes brushing the dirt. The six commandos had their blasters aimed at the visitor, waiting for Tral to give the order.

    "Welcome to Mandalore," Tral said coolly. "What brings you here to our world?"

    "Tell your men to lower their weapons," the stranger said, their voice sounding masculine albeit altered by the mask. "It would not be wise of them to fire upon me."

    "Are you one of Darth Taral's Sith?" Tral pressed on. "Forgive me for prying, but we were not forewarned of your visit."

    "I did not find it necessary. Now, unless you plan on wasting my time, I wish to meet one of your own."

    Tral's brow furrowed. "And who would that be?"

    "He calls himself Benor Sardan."

    "Benor?" Tral repeated. "What business do you have with him?"

    "That is not for you to know. Take me to him now."

    "I'm sorry, but I don't know where he is."

    The man rolled his hand into a fist. "I have no desire to play games. Where is Benor Sardan?"

    Tral glanced at the female commando. "Lei? Any ideas?"

    "I haven't seen Benor in months," she whispered back. "And even so, can we even trust this man? He won't even tell us who he is."

    Looking back at the mysterious figure, Tral said, "Tell you what: I'll take you to our leader, Mand'alor, and he will tell you how to find Benor. Deal?"

    "You are trying my patience, Mandalorian," the man said. "But very well. I shall humor you."

    "Excellent," Tral said, masking his apprehension. "Right this way."

Star Wars Endgame: Finale, Chapter Four

EDITED 1/1/2020 Changed the Finalizer to an original Star Destroyer of the same model (in case I want to use the Finalizer in future stories)

CHAPTER FOUR

--The Resurgent--

    Captain Redarn took long, quick strides down the corridor which led to the Dark Lord's quarters. Every few steps, he made sure his rank insignia was on straight and his cap firmly on his head. Having never met Darth Taral before, he did not know if the Sith would care for such formality -- but one could never be too careful.

    Upon reaching the Dark Lord's chambers, Redarn was surprised to find the door already open, revealing a dark room with very little light; said light was emitting from a holoscreen displayed before a seated individual, their back turned to Redarn.

    As the captain stepped in, a chilling voice came from the darkness. "Why do you disturb me, captain?"

    Redarn cleared his throat. "My lord, we have arrived in the Dromund system, as per your orders."

    "Has my shuttle been prepared?" Taral replied.

    "Yes, my lord. It awaits you in Hangar 937."

    "I'll be there shortly. Dismissed, captain."

    Redarn gave a quick, crisp bow before turning on his heels and exiting the foreboding chamber. It closed with a loud hiss as soon as he left. Once it had, Redarn let out the breath he hadn't realize he'd been holding in. For a first meeting, it certainly could have gone a lot worse.

*  *  *

    Darth Taral sat alone in darkness, numerous thoughts on his mind.

    Years of planning were finally coming together. The pieces of the board were being set. The Imperial Remnant and Mandalorians were already under his control and the Alliance was being molded like putty. The stage of victory was all but set.

    However, one challenge yet remained. One he had known was coming ever since his plan was set in motion. One he wasn't quite certain he was prepared to face.

    Taral's eyes went down the list of reports sent to his datapad. Scorpius had succeeded in killing his master on Jakku, as had Sharik on Cheelit. However, Draida had failed to report in after reaching Cato Neimoidia and the others had yet to locate their own masters. And with Prodd dead, his master was also still left unaccounted for.

    That left Taral's own master and Sedriss.

    Even if Vossron had survived, Taral would have made sure that the Dark Lady was left for him to deal with. It was Sith tradition for the mantle of Dark Lord be taken by he who had slain the previous holder. As it was with Revan and Malak, as it was with Bane and Zannah, it would be so here.

    Placing the datapad down, Taral turned in his chair and pressed a control on the armrest. Across the room, a door slid open and a set of ready-made armor hovered before him.

    After today, there would only be one Dark Lord of the Sith -- and he would do everything in his power to make sure it was him.

--Dromund Kaas--

    "He is here."

    The ten remaining Sith Masters soon gathered in their antechamber -- eight transmitting via hologram while Darth Sedriss and Lord Paxis were physically present. Paxis looked nervous as he paced across the room, his white hair a disheveled mess.

    "Your greatest failure has arrived, Paxis," Lord Tyran said smugly, arms folded across his chest. "Let's see if you can make amends within the next twenty minutes."

    "Quiet, Valmar!" Paxis snapped, uttering his colleague's true name. "The last thing I need is you unctuous attitude!"

    "Settle down, both of you," Sedriss commanded. "The last thing I want is to have the Sith be divided even further. We must have a level head if we wish to make an example of Varon."

    Turning to the hologram of a Thisspiasian Sith, Sedriss said, "Lord Serpriss, head to Ossus with Lord Kallus. If Paxis and I fail to defeat Varon, the Jedi must know of the threat."

    Lord Kallus raised an eyebrow. "You think the Jedi will trust us?"

    "They know you, Viron. I'm sure you'll be able to convince them." The Dark Lady then turned to a Chagrian woman. "Saarai, I want you to burn your library on Jaguada."

    Saarai gasped. "My... my library? You want me to... burn it?"

    "If Varon were to get his hands on all the knowledge we've pertained, who knows what he would do with it. It's for the best, Saarai."

    The Chagrian looked to be on the verge of tears but acquiesced to Sedriss' order. The Dark Lady then addressed the others.

    "The rest of you, lay low and hide from your apprentices. Don't seek them out. If Acheron and Versutus' deaths are anything to go by, then Varon has somehow trained them to exceed our expectations."

    Lord Saivus scoffed. "Masters should not fear the apprentice."

    "No, they shouldn't," Sedriss agreed. "But Varon has given us a reason to."

    With that, the eight holograms fizzled out of existence, leaving Sedriss and an anxious Paxis alone in the chamber.

    "Tyran is correct," Paxis murmured, more to himself than Sedriss. "Varon is my failure. It's my fault any of this happened."

    "Save your moping for later," Sedriss said, already headed outside. "We have company to welcome."

    The two Sith Masters exited the temple that was their base and saw the vessel of their visitor hovering in the sky above: a Resurgent-class Star Destroyer, fresh out of the Kuat Drive Yards. Descending from the capital ship was an Imperial shuttle, its long wings folding up as it landed before the pair.

    Paxis had his gaze focused on the Star Destroyer. "Why doesn't he just blast us now from the sky and get it over with?"

    "He's your apprentice, Paxis," Sedriss said. "If you know him at all, you should already know the answer to that."

    A ramp lowered from the shuttle, steam emitting from its pistons. A large figure descended from the ship, clad in black and gold armor with a long cloak billowing behind him. A helmet dominated his head, with a fearsome mask concealing his face.

    The resemblance was clear to both masters. Neither said a word about it, instead waiting for Varon Krul to cross the distance between them, coming to a stop a mere nine feet from them.

    "Hello, master," he said, his voice coming out as a mechanical rasp from behind his mask. "Hello, Lady Sedriss. Long time no see."

    "What is this about, Varon?" Paxis asked, his voice shaky. "Why are you doing this?"

    "This is about forging a new galaxy," Varon said. "About union. Peace."

    "And you think you can achieve that by manipulating and executing people as you see fit?" Paxis said, not bothering to hide his indignation.

    "The ends justify the means. When all has come to fruition, you will thank me."

    Paxis opened his mouth to speak again, but Sedriss silenced him as she stepped forward. "Why are you here, Varon? Are you here to kill us?"

    "No," Varon said. "I am here to claim what I believe to be mine: the title of Dark Lord of the Sith."

    Sedriss clenched her fists. "It is not yours to have."

    "This needn't end in blood," Varon said, unhooking his lightsaber hilt from his belt. "You can relinquish the title to me now and live. Or...." With a snap-hiss, a crimson blade extended from the hilt. "We could do this the old fashioned way."

    Paxis glanced at Sedriss, who made her answer clear. She removed two lightsabers from her waist and ignited their blades, red and violet in color respectively. Paxis did the same, bringing out his scarlet-bladed lightsaber.

    Varon raised his in salute. "Tradition it is then."

    The three Sith then lunged at each other and their blades clashed, creating a bright flash in the midst of the darkness.

---

   NOTE: The Star Destroyer is not actually in the sky but out in space. I'll try fixing this later.

Star Wars Endgame: Finale, Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

--Takodana--

    Jast Kyjar grunted to himself as he chewed endlessly on his piece of gornt meat. He wanted to spit it out but knew that would earn some strange looks from the other denizens in the castle. As such, he tried to wash it down with his glass of andoan wine, but it proved to be of little use.

    As he continued to work on the tough meat, he looked around the castle of the legendary Maz Kanata. Beings of assorted races were huddled together, enjoying themselves; in one corner, a trio of insectoids sat over a game of Deia's Dream while a Houk arm-wrestled a Dowutin. In another, a crimson-clad humanoid spoke with its Gabdorin companion while a pair of drunk Twi'leks laughed and sang together.

    Jast had to admit, out of all the cantinas, clubs, and other sort of places he had visited, this had to be one of the more welcoming ones. In the three days he had spent here, he had yet to see a violent brawl break out. From what he had heard, Maz Kanata was adamant about maintaining a peaceful environment.

    However, for all the talk he heard about her, Jast had yet to see any sight of Maz herself. When he arrived on Takodana with the rest of the Wild Karrde crew, the captain himself had left to see out Maz, claiming her to be an old friend. So far, three days had gone by with little to no sign of either Talon Karrde or Maz Kanata. Either those two ere taking their own sweet time in reconnecting, or something sinister was afoot. Naturally, he couldn't be bothered to investigate either way.

    After spending nearly fifteen minutes trying to devour the now-tasteless chunk of meat, Jast couldn't take it anymore and got up from his table, heading off to find something in which to spit out the meat. He got no further than two feet when he ran into someone he had no desire to see today -- or any day, for that matter.

    "Hey, buddy! How's it goin'?"

    Jast closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten. From day one he had regretted the fact of publicly announcing his desire to join the Smugglers' Alliance to his friends three years ago; if he hadn't, perhaps the Rybet who called himself Cyclops wouldn't have joined as well.

    Taking in a deep breath and still not turning to face the frog-like being, Jast said, "Goin' okay, Cy."

    "You sound like you have food in your mouth."

    "That's 'cos I do."

    "Why not just swallow it?"

    "Because gornt meat isn't easy to digest whole."

    "Then just spit it out."

    "That was my plan until you showed up."

    "Oh." Cyclops fell silent and for a brief moment Jast hoped he had left. Then the Rybet spoke again, shattering his hopes. "I have a message to deliver."

    "From who?"

    "Talon Karrde."

    That was enough to get Jast to turn around, staring at Cyclops in surprise. "Talon Karrde?"

    "Yup. He wants everyone to meet him in Maz's chamber." Cyclops suddenly looked upset. "Except me, though. He told me to wait out here with these losers."

    Jast ignored the Rybet and spat out the piece of meat, eliciting a dirty look from the Artiodac cook passing by. "Can you take me there?"

    Cyclops shook his head. "I'm not allowed anywhere near there; that's how bad they don't want me. Yalnis is in charge of directing people."

    Without another word, Jast walked past Cyclops and set out to find Yalnis, his heart beating in anticipation of what was to come -- whatever it was.

*  *  *

    "Whoever this Darth Taral is, he's a very influential being."

    Seven figures stood at a rotund table, which displayed a holographic map of the galaxy. Around them, a crowd of assorted smugglers, pirates, and mercenaries watched as they deliberated.

    "From what my contacts had pieced together, he has the Imperial Remnant and the Mandalorians all on his paycheck," Talon Karrde was saying, his aged, bearded face studying the map. "The Hutts are also on his side as was Black Sun before they were eliminated."

    "One of my spies reported that some individuals in the Galactic Alliance are also acting as his puppets," said Eshka Dan'yar. "None of the information is reliable enough to trust however."

    "So what's this all about?" asked Booster Terrik, the only seated individual due to his advanced age. "What's this guy planning?"

    "From what we can gather, Taral is trying to put a new order into place," said a hooded man, whom none of the others knew so well. "So far he's taken out all of the major heads -- Chief Eerin of the Alliance, Moff Verradun of the Empire, and so forth -- and replaced them with people he can easily manipulate."

    "You mean people like the new Chief of State are just his puppets?" Karrde asked.

    The man nodded. "Luewet Wuul may have a strong track record as a senator, but being thrust into a position as high as Chief of State so suddenly will have left him vulnerable. And, while as far as anyone knows no one has succeeded Verradun, the Moff Council are likely already on board with Taral's plan."

    "So who can we even trust?" asked a Duros spacer from the audience. "Sounds to me that everyone is on the Sith's payroll."

    "I've been working on gathering those whom we can trust," the man said. "General Hawk, for one, I know to be against the direction the Alliance is headed in. I've put him in charge of forming a military force to strike back against Taral's movement, since we all know the Senate isn't going to do anything."

    "What about the Jedi?" The question came from Maz Kanata herself, who stared at the hooded man through her wide-lens goggles. "Are they lending a hand as well?"

    The man did not look at her when he replied. "I'll be seeing them soon about that."

    Karrde nodded. "Then that just leaves us. Maz here has agreed to let us use this castle as our base of operations."

    "Only on the condition that you leave immediately once this is all over," Maz said firmly. "Or if the enemy attacks my place, provided we all survive such a scenario."

    "Understood. During our stay, we shall try to accumulate as much data we can to use against the enemy, as well as provide assistance to those who need it. It's time for us smugglers to stop caring for ourselves and start aiding others. If you can't do that, then the door's wide open for you."

    At that, a few spacers slunk out of the crowd and exited the room. The rest stood firmly in place.

    "All right then." Karrde hit a panel on the table and the hologram vanished. "Let's get to work."

*  *  *

    "It's done," Toah Jarsan said over his comlink as he left the chamber. "The Smugglers' Alliance is on our side."

    "Good," Atha Prime replied on the other end, his voice sounding weak. "What's next on the agenda?"

    Toah frowned in concern. "Are you all right, Atha? You don't sound like yourself."

    "I'm fine," the scientist said in a tone that left no room for argument. "What's next?"

    Deciding to save the subject for another time, Toah said, "I'm heading for Ossus next, to speak with the Jedi Council."

    "You don't sound enthusiastic about it."

    Toah sighed. "It's... hard to explain. You probably wouldn't understand."

    "I suppose. Call me when you're finished there."

    "Right. Toah, out." As he turned off the comlink, Toah turned around to see an old, orange-skinned alien woman standing in front of him, brown eyes studying him behind the lenses of her goggles.

    "You seem lost, wanderer," Maz Kanata said.

    "Not at all," Toah said. "This castle isn't too difficult to navigate."

    Maz tilted her head. "You know that's not what I mean."

    Toah held back a sigh, looking away from the old pirate. "What would you know?" he asked softly. "You know nothing about me. I don't think I've even told you my name."

    "Maybe so." Maz adjusted her lenses, making her eyes appear disproportionately large. "However, I have lived long enough to see the same eyes in different people. When I see your eyes, I see someone lost; someone trying to find himself -- to find his destiny."

    "What makes you think I even have a destiny?" Toah said bitterly. "Why must everyone have a destiny? No one in this galaxy is born special -- unless you had a virgin birth, then everyone hails you as a prophesied hero."

    "Everyone has a destiny. It needn't be extraordinary or anything. But you, I can tell, are destined for great things."

    Toah shook his head. "You have the wrong guy. If you're looking for a special hero, ask someone else."

    With that, he quickly strode past Maz, leaving the pirate behind -- and stars knew what else.

Star Wars Endgame: Finale, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

--Jedi Temple, Ossus--

    The twin suns of Ossus had barely risen and yet Jaden Korr was already awake. It had been months since he had a decent amount of sleep, without any sort of nightmare.

    It was the same one every night: him being in that cave on Abeloth's planet, standing before an apparition of Darth Vorath, removing the Dark Lord's helmet... and finding his own.

    To this day, he had no idea what to make of it. Was he related to Vorath somehow? Was he a clone, a descendant, or something else? Or was it one of those stupid metaphorical things Master Skywalker would go on about back in the day?

    Either way, he had yet to find clarification. So far the only people he had confided in with this revelation had been Master Taana Di, Natia Dorn, and his own master Kyle Katarn -- and so far, none of their advice to him had been helpful. As much as he appreciated it, he still didn't think they could help given that they had never dealt with a similar situation.

    If only Luke Skywalker was still alive, or the man who had once called himself Nemesis hadn't left Ossus for parts unknown two years ago. Perhaps he could've asked them how they dealt with their connection to Darth Vader.

    As he pondered on this, wandering through the Jedi Temple, he found himself in the Ood Bnar Gardens, populated by fluorescent-colored birds. Up ahead, he could see a dark-haired man standing before a statue erected in honor of Luke Skywalker, who had fallen years ago to Vorath. The man's right arm ended in a stump and was suspended by a sling, something which he owed to his former apprentice.

    As Jaden approached Relin Druur, the old Jedi spoke without looking at him. "I see why you hold this man in great respect."

    "Done your reading, have you?" Jaden asked.

    "Yes. Rather impressive for someone so young to accomplish so much."

    "He didn't do it alone. If it hadn't been for Jedi such as Master Baran or Master Sadoon still being around, the order would be nowhere near as large as it is now."

    "And yet it is still small compared to the order of my time." Relin fell silent for a moment before finally looking at Jaden. "Something troubles you, Jedi Korr. What brings you here?"

    Jaden hesitated to answer. Relin, of course, would be unlikely to understand his present dilemma. While he had certainly must have heard of Vorath from the records Master Tionne had given him, he did not know the Dark Lord like others such as Toah Jarsan did. He did not know the true extent of the impact Vorath and his Sith had left on the galaxy.

    Choosing his words carefully, Jaden said, "Here's some food for thought. Let's say there's this ill-reputed person out there in the galaxy. You might not know him, but you've heard the stories about him: killed some people, destroyed a few cities, the works.

    "Then, one day you find out this guy is someone closely related to you -- like, say, a father or a brother or even a son. How would you deal with this?"

    Relin thought about this for a moment, his sunken dark eyes staring into the distance. Finally, he said, "I suppose it depends on how much I would want to let it affect me. Does this person know of this relation as well? Would he try to damage my reputation by bringing our relationship to light?"

    "Well... let's say this person is also dead. And everyone in the galaxy utterly hates him. And you do as well, for good reason. How would you handle it, on a personal level?"

    Relin looked at Jaden, a knowing look in his stone gaze. "That, I believe, is something you must answer for yourself."

    Jaden sighed, nodding in spite of himself. "Right. I guess that makes sense. Thank you for your time, Master Druur."

    "Please, just call me Relin." The old Jedi frowned as he looked back at the Skywalker statue. "In a galaxy which I no longer understand, I feel that I am little more than another student."

*  *  *

    Anakin Solo uttered a word he had learned from his father as his hydrospanner got caught in the undercarriage of the fighter he was repairing. As he struggled to free it from the cavity, he heard booted footsteps approaching him. Rolling out from under the ship, he saw Zarin Kal standing before him.

    "Zarin?" Anakin said, surprised to see the Kiffar Jedi. "What are you doing up so early?"

    "I should be asking you the same," Zarin said. "Are you that attached to your machines?"

    Anakin shrugged as he gave the spanner another tug. "Just something that runs in the family, I guess. So why are you up?"

    Zarin scowled to himself, folding his arms as he started pacing. "Something doesn't feel right. I think we're being deceived."

    "What are you talking about?"

    Zarin looked back at him, fixing him with a stern gaze. "What I'm about to say to you is strictly between you and me. Understood?"

    Anakin nodded firmly.

    Zarin took in a breath and let it out before continuing. "I was speaking with Master Murk the other day, about this whole business with this new Sith Lord running around. It's been nearly six months and the Council still hasn't reached a decision on how to deal with him.

    "Anyway, while I was speaking with him, he started acting a bit... shifty. Like, vague and cryptic."

    "Aren't all Jedi Masters like that?" Anakin said wryly.

    "Well, yeah. But there was something else about him; I sensed something... cold... and dark about him."

    Anakin frowned. "You're not suggesting that...?"

    "I'm just telling you what I saw in him," Zarin said hastily. "I'm not going around accusing people of being Sith. I'm just...." He let out a sigh as he pinched his nose. "Look, forget I said anything. Maybe I'm just getting ahead of myself. Sorry for bothering you."

    With those words, Zarin quickly strode away, leaving Anakin alone with his fighter. He rolled back under and gave the hydrospanner one last tug. It finally came free and a stream of oil poured onto his face, prompting another string of colorful vocabulary.

*  *  *

    Natia Dorn woke up screaming.

    Her body was drenched with sweat, still shaking from the horrible dream she had had.

    She had seen the Jedi Temple on fire. She had heard Jedi screaming. She had felt cold, despite the heat of the flames surrounding her. Then she had seen, at the center of it all, a man in a black mask, crimson blade cutting down her master, her friends. Then she awoke.

    As she tried to calm herself, tried to find peace in the Force, she heard footsteps coming down the hall. A knock sounded at her door.

    "Natia?" she heard her master, Taana Di, call out. "Are you all right?"

    "Yes," she lied, her voice coming out as a croak. Evidently Taana did not believe her, for the door opened and the Togruta woman rushed inside, with fellow Jedi Nira Maren and Odan Murk behind her.

    "We felt your distress though the Force," Taana said, kneeling at her apprentice's bedside and placing a reassuring hand on Natia's shoulder. "Is everything all right?"

    Natia realized she was still trembling and she took in a shuddering breath. "I... I had a dream, although it... it felt more like a vision."

    "What did you see?" Taana asked.

    Natia described it to her as best as she could remember. When she was finished, all three masters exchanged concerned looks.

    "This might be worth looking into," Nira suggested. "Given recent events -- from the Dark Jedi Jaden Korr has encountered to this Sith calling himself Darth Taral -- this may very well be a likely future event."

    "Are we really going to give that much credit to a Padawan's nightmare?" Odan asked. "What if it turns out to be nothing more than just that?"

    "We can't afford to take any chances, Master Murk," Taana said. "We would be remiss to repeat the mistakes of Jedi before us."

    Turning back to Natia, Taana gently pushed the young girl back down onto her bed.

    "Rest now, Natia. Everything will be okay."

Star Wars Endgame: Finale, Chapter One

PART I: GATHERING

----------------------------------

CHAPTER ONE

--Coruscant--

    "Just one more -- another for the airways."

    The old man running the bar frowned at the nearly passed-out drunk he was serving. "I think you've had enough."

    Wallen Nix let out a harsh laugh. "There aren't enough drinks in the galaxy to be 'enough' for me. Give me all the wine on Kattada and it still wouldn't be 'enough.'"

    The barkeep brought out a wet cloth and started wiping down the counter. "Your girl leave you or something?"

    "No. Nothing like that. Worse than that. Try your life's work being for naught."

    "Lost your job?"

    "Nope. That would actually be a blessing." Wallen rubbed his forehead, starting to feel the effects of his drinking. "I don't think I can make it another fifteen years to get to retirement age. How many lies will I have to suffer to get there?"

    The barkeep shrugged. "I dunno what to tell ya, pal. Just grin and bear it until it's over. Now if you wouldn't mind leavin', I need to close up here soon."

    "That time already?" Wallen looked up at the chronometer on the wall but his vision was too blurry to make any numbers out. "Feels like I just got here."

    "You've been here pretty much all day. You need help gettin' home?"

    "No, I'm fine." As he said this, Wallen got off his stool and immediately tripped, falling flat on his face. As he struggled to get up, he heard the sound of the door hissing open.

    "Sorry, pal," the barkeep said to the newcomer, whom Wallen could barely make out. "We're closing in a few."

    "No worries, I'm just here to pick up a... ah, there you are."

    Wallen could have sworn he recognized that voice but had difficulty putting his finger on it -- or moving any part of his body, for that matter.

    "You're friends with this guy?" he heard the barkeep ask.

    "You could say that. Come on, old buddy." Wallen felt himself being picked up by the stranger before being dragged out of the bar. "It's time to go home."

    For a brief instant, everything clicked and Wallen knew who had come to his aid. Before he could muster a statement, his brain performed a backflip, failed, and he blacked out.

*  *  *

    In Shadow's opinion, his talents were being wasted.

    Granted, he couldn't think of an alternative at present, but he nonetheless found it strange that Toah had sent him on this particular mission. He had no idea who this 'Hawk' person was or why they needed a message delivered to them so urgently, but Shadow knew questioning Toah would have been futile.

    As he quietly scaled alongside the building under the shroud of night, Shadow performed another sweep for security devices and alarms, disabling them temporarily via remote. He finally reached the opaque window of his destination and did an extra sweep before proceeding with the operation.

    Peering through the window with his night-vision enhanced visor, Shadow could see that the man known as Hawk was asleep in his quarters. While no security was immediately present, Shadow figured they were cleverly cloaked or there was at least one or two guards outside the door. He had to play this carefully; he was here to gain Hawk's trust, not a blaster bolt to the face.

    He finished his ascent up the complex and reached the rooftop. Breaking through a locked door that led inside, Shadow silently descended the staircase and onto the uppermost floor, where he found a guard on patrol. Before the guard even noticed him, Shadow fired a dart from his wrist, knocking the man out cold. Shadow then studied the man's features and adopted them himself before continuing his way to Hawk's quarters.

    When he reached the room, two guards were standing outside. One of them nodded curtly to Shadow.

    "Braxon," the hard-faced woman said. "Delivering another message for the general?"

    "Um, yes," Shadow said. "I hate to disturb him, but...."

    "Ah, I'm sure he's used to it by now," the other guard, a scarred man, said. "I had to deliver ten messages to him last night. I'm not sure he got a wink of sleep then."

    "Yes, very unfortunate." Shadow stepped towards the door but stopped before opening it. "Um... this room is sound-proofed, right?"

    "The night getting to you, son?" the first guard said, snorting. "The general's room is always sound-proofed. You know how he is."

    "Right. Just making sure."

    Shadow then entered the room. Once the door had closed behind him, he reverted to his natural form and stepped towards the sleeping form of Hawk. He prodded the general's bare shoulder.

    "Good evening, general."

    Hawk shot up only to be pushed back down. Shadow pinned both of his arms to prevent him from summoning his guards.

    "I'm not here to hurt you," Shadow said quietly. "If that were my intent, we would not be speaking."

    "Go to blazes, Glorian," Hawk spat at him.

    Shadow ignored the remark and went on. "I trust you are familiar with the name Toah Jarsan."

    Still glowering at Shadow, Hawk said, "You mean the kid who defeated Vorath all those years ago? I don't know him but I've heard about him."

    "Well, it should interest you to know that he requires your assistance. However, bear in mind that what he's asking of you is likely to break a few laws and might get you on the Alliance's hitlist."

    Hawk snorted. "With the way things are now, I'm surprised I'm not already dead. What does Jarsan want?"

    "Things are falling into place. The enemy is making their move. A resistance must be formed to defend against the oncoming storm."

    "And Toah wants me to lead this resistance?"

    "He told me he could think of no better man." Shadow released Hawk and reached into his cloak, producing a datapad. "The details of his plan are on here. He expects to see you on D'Qar in a month's time... that is, if you're up to it."

    Hawk seemed to mull over the proposal for a moment. He then met Shadow's gaze and said, "Tell him I'll do it. Whatever must be done, I'll do it."

    "Glad to hear it." Stepping away from Hawk, Shadow morphed back into the form of Braxon. "I look forward to meeting you again."

    Hawk scoffed. "I'm not."

    With a smirk, Shadow opened the door and left the general's quarters. When he stepped outside, he saw the two guards glaring at him... and the original Braxon staring at him dumbstruck.

    The first thing Shadow did was curse the Toydarian dealer who had sold him the tranq-darts. He then gave a half-hearted salute.

    "Pleasure doing business with you," he said before morphing into a scurrier and running off.

*  *  *

    The man known as Atha Prime stood hunched over a desk covered in datapads and pieces of flimsiplast. He cradled his helmeted head in his hands, his head throbbing in pain.

    I am Mammon Hoole.

   This had been his mantra for the past few hours, in an attempt to ward off the unwanted voices entering his head.

    We are Valorum.

   I am Mammon Hoole.

    We are Aron Jarsan.

    I am Mammon Hoole.

    We are--

    "Atha Prime?"

    He snapped out of his trance and turned to the open comlink on his desk. Picking it up, he spoke into it, his voice hoarse. "Toah. What is it?"

    "Shadow and Xemer just got back to me. Their tasks are already underway. How goes the progress of yours?"

    "I...." Atha Prime looked back at the mess that was his project, struggling to make sense of it. "I'm going to need a bit more time."

    "Okay," Toah said. "Just know it needs to be done soon. Time is of the essence."

    "Right," Atha said as he ended the call. "It certainly is."

    I am Mammon Hoole, he told himself one last time.

    Not for long, was their reply.

Star Wars Endgame: Finale, Prologue

Yep. It's happening. I'm gonna do my best to make this big and go out with a bang. Here we go.

STAR WARS ENDGAME

Finale: The Final Destiny

   Timeline: 41 ABY (six months after Volume VI)

PROLOGUE

--The Vanguard--

    The world of Jakku was as remote as planets got. Boasting a population that even Tatooine outmatched, Jakku had very few settlements, with most of its population being concentrated in one or two towns. Save for one encounter during the last days of the Galactic Civil War, it had been generally overlooked by the galactic powers.

    As he observed the world from the command bridge of his Star Destroyer, Admiral Vin Borgas wondered why he was here; why had he been sent to this remote system on the orders of his superiors? It was of little worth to the Imperial Remnant and largely forgotten by even those who had been there at the battle.

    Unfortunately, he was in no position to question orders, lest he incur the wrath of the man standing next to him.

    Turning to one of the bridge officers, Borgas asked, "Has Lord Scorpius' shuttle been prepared?"

   "Yes, sir. Shuttle Upsilon is ready in hanger 55B."

    Borgas glanced at the man standing next to him. Clad in black armor and with a cybernetic cover over the right side of his face, Rion Scorpius fit the stories Borgas had heard of Darth Vader when he was a cadet in the Imperial military, having never met the Dark Lord himself. He wondered if his uncle, who had served Vader personally, felt as intimidated as he did now.

    Scorpius was silent for a moment as he stared emotionless at Jakku. Finally, he turned on his heel and headed down the bridge, without even a word to the admiral. As soon as he was gone, Borgas allowed a quiet sigh to pass through his lips.

    Why did it have to be Sith?

--Jakku--

    Night on Jakku was quiet, for the most part. When Unkar Plutt's thugs weren't breaking into others' places of residence and causing shootouts on the streets, it could almost be called peaceful.

    But Zarmach felt anything but peace. How could he, knowing what was to come?

    The news Lysira had brought back after tracking down her apprentice had confirmed what they had all feared: one of their students had gone astray and was repeating mistakes of the past. They had traced his activities to a lair on Ziost, only to find it abandoned, and by then they had all seen his broadcast to the galaxy.

    None of them knew what endgame this Darth Taral was pushing towards, but it could be anything but good.

    Zarmach felt a familiar ripple in the Force. His apprentice had arrived.

    Stepping out of his residence, he looked towards the moonlit sky and saw an Imperial shuttle landing upon the desert sand. He wondered if anyone else had noticed its arrival and if Constable Zuvio's militia would be coming to investigate. 

   Or, more likely, they simply found it wiser to keep their hands out of this.

    The shuttle lowered its ramp and a single figure emerged from it. Zarmach almost didn't recognize him with the black mask over half his face, but from the rest of his outfit and the pure hatred in his remaining eye, his identity was unmistakable. 

   After so long, Zarmach had come to view Rion Scorpius as like a son. Evidently, that was not the case vice versa. As his apprentice approached him, Zarmach knew there was no further point in maintaining his fatherly alter ego. It was time to put on a different face.

    "Hello, Scorpius," Lord Acheron said.

    "Hello, master," Scorpius replied, coming to a stop before the Sith Lord. As a Snivvian, Acheron was considerably dwarfed by his student, but that meant nothing to either Sith. "Interesting choice in residence. I had not even heard of this planet until the Imperials informed me."

    "The best hiding places are the ones no one believes to exist," Acheron said evenly.

    Scorpius smirked. "But hiding is not your intent, is it, master? You have summoned me here for a purpose."

    "Indeed I have." Acheron stepped aside and gestured for Scorpius to enter his residence. "Come. Make yourself at home."

    Scorpius complied and stepped into his master's abode. When the door closed, only a few lanterns provided light for the two Sith, casting an orange glow on Lord Acheron as he walked up to his worktable.

    "I'm surprised you actually responded to my call," the Sith Master said as he rolled up the scroll he had been viewing earlier. "The other masters have had difficulty in finding their own apprentices."

    "I'm here only because you have something I want," Scorpius said, nodding to the scroll. "Hand it over."

    "Not yet," Acheron said, turning to face his former pupil. "Not until you tell me why you want it. You've never shown interest in the Sith lore before. Why now?"

    "It is not I that desires it, but my master -- my new master. He requires it for the endgame of his plan."

    "What plan? What is it that your 'master' is trying to accomplish, by toying with both the Alliance and the Empire?"

    Scorpius grinned. "There is a new order coming. One that shall ensure peace and justice for the galaxy."

    Acheron glowered at him. "Peace through tyranny, you mean."

    "How else? Nothing else has worked at this point. The only reason it failed Palpatine was because his apprentice foolishly returned to the light."

    Acheron shook his head. "You sound like so many Sith before you. And why do you think they fell? If the Sith are to be preserved, they must become like the Jedi and stay out of galactic affairs."

    Scorpius sneered. "You're suggesting that the Sith should be weak."

    "Is it weakness to not show one's power? This is where your master has failed: he is theatrical with his power. In the short-term, it may serve him well, yes. But in the long term, he is doomed for failure."

    Scorpius sighed, though Acheron knew it was just for show. "I see. Yet again, you and the other masters underestimate what we are capable of."

    Acheron frowned. "I never underestimated you--"

    He was cut off by the sound of a lightsaber's snap-hiss. A red light merged with the orange in the room.

    "Don't bore me with lies. You knew this was coming."

    "Scorpius... Rion, please." Acheron started to reach for his own weapon, but he knew he would not be quick enough. "I don't want to do this."

    "A pity, because I do."

    Acheron activated his lightsaber and raised it to deflect Scorpius' first attack... but instead of going for his head like he first thought, Scorpius instead sliced his blade through the Snivvian's arm, rendering him defenseless. His mind racing, Acheron attempted to summon Force lightning, but the scarlet blade at his neck told him that his time was up.

    "The new age has begun," Scorpius said. "The First Order is about to begin."

    The former apprentice raised his blade, murder in his eyes.

    "And nothing can stop it."