Disclaimer: I, Sci-Fi Nerd, am not in any way profiting from my reproduction of George Lucas, Michael Stackpole, and Timothy Zahn's characters and/or places. That said, all original characters are mine.
Author's Note: Well, to anyone who reads this thing, you should have read the first part of my series, To Push Back the Shadow (check my author profile if not). It really is needed to understand a lot of this story.
Fading Embers
Prologue
The chamber was dark and cold, oozing with impressions of violence, fear, and anger. Somehow, a dim glow suffused the air enough to provide sufficient illumination for sight, yet in some ways, it seemed to make the room more sinister. Footsteps echoed and machines whirred in the distance, but here, one could drown in the aura of evil.
This was a place of the dark side.
Corran Horn woke suddenly, still seated cross-legged in the center of the chamber. An odd fuzziness seemed to occupy the spaces usually filled by his recent memories of late, but he got the impression that he'd seen this place before. Also present, however, was an impression of imminent doom, and Corran had to fight back a rush of nausea and fear at the impulse, reaching out to the Force for strength.
He winced as a slight shift in his movements drove a spike of pain into his side. As he embraced the cooling flow of energy that was his Force reserves, he could sense the various wounds dealt to his body. Two- no, three- ribs had been broken and not repaired, and punctures and burns marked great portions of his limbs and torso. He coughed and tasted the bitter aftermath of vomit in his gorge.
From the darkness surrounding him, a shape loomed, tall, black like the surroundings, and terrible to behold. A halo of tentacles surrounded the massive, beaked skull, and the muscular, shining body and triple- jointed legs propelled it forward with purpose.
K'talla M'niisonn, Corran recalled, more of the grey veil lifting from his memories. A Dark Jedi.
"Corran Horn," burbled the oncoming alien ominously. "You are awake again. This is good."
The In'ca Din'ca female stopped short of arm's reach from Corran; even so, Corran's hand grasped futilely for a lightsaber he knew would not be there. He remembered his captors destroying his grandfather's blade in front of his eyes sometime in the past of his long weeks of interrogation and abuse.
They will not turn me.
"Foolish man," K'talla's scornful voice flayed him with its brutal contempt. "You cannot hope to resist the Dark Side. Give in, and you will be granted power beyond your imagining."
Corran tried to laugh, found that he lacked the energy. "I've heard that story before," he whispered harshly. "I will not betray my friends or the Force."
A deep, ominous laugh rang out, quickly falling into a snarl. "I grow tired of your futile resistance, Corran Horn," she spat. "Very well; as you wish it."
Confusion reigned in Corran's mind, but then a door slid open directly across from the pair of them at a distance of about three meters, and he was blinded by the sudden onslaught of light, and concentration vanished.
When he blinked away the tears again, he heard a hiss of a lightsaber, and found himself gazing at a horrible tableau: K'talla, standing tall and arrogant, blue blade ignited in her fist, another In'ca Din'ca minion across from her, holding back the head of Wedge Antilles, ready for a killing thrust.
"Wedge!" Corran's anguished hiss vanished into the dimness of the room.
His friend was in bad shape; both eyes had been blacked almost shut, and cuts marred his strong features. His hair had been partially burned off, and a blaster scar marred that section of his skull.
"You will accept my offer, or I will kill your friend," K'talla said brutally. "Do not try my patience; I have killed many times, and I will not hesitate to do so again."
Corran clenched his teeth, fighting back furious tears. "What... offer?" he managed to grunt through his clamped jaw.
The lightsaber drifted slightly away from Wedge's exposed chest, moving into line with Corran's motionless form. K'talla's eyes blazed with yellow flame, the very image of demonhood.
"You will obey my commands and allow me to train you as I see fit," K'talla said maliciously, clearing enjoying the effect of her damning words on the prisoner before her. "In exchange, I do not kill this man, but instead, keep him in safe custody for you when you have grown to my satisfaction."
One of Wedge's eyes flicked open slowly, the blue gleam seeming to pierce Corran's soul.
"Don't... Corran," he gasped, before a heavy clout to the back of the head drove him back into unconsciousness.
"What about the others?" Corran bit out harshly, a lump choking his throat. Please, let Luke and the others have succeeded and gotten away. Let there be some hope left.
Now it was K'talla's turn to hiss in vexation. "Alas, things diverged from what we had foreseen," she admitted. "Your precious Jedi friend successfully defeated the Imperials and fled despite our efforts to hold him. As of now, they and the remnants of the In'ca Din'ca Confederacy are barricading themselves in Wild Space. They are no danger to us here."
Corran squeezed his eyes shut. At least Luke had escaped. He fiercely regretted, now, not coming with Luke and learning the ways of the Jedi years ago when the offer had been made. But maybe his friends could find a way to leash this new horror they had inadvertently created.
A sudden thought popped into his mind; a fearful, horrifying thought. "Where are we?" he whispered. "What planet?"
A low chuckle came from the Dark Jedi. "Ah, little man," K'talla gloated. "That is the most delicious part of all.
"We are on Coruscant."
Corran hung his head. Coruscant. It was exactly as he'd feared. All the bloodshed over this planet's surface was simply to establish a new reign of tyranny over the galaxy.
The hum of the lightsaber changed pitch subtly, and Corran's eyes flew open to see the tip of K'talla's blade singeing threads slowly off of Wedge's tattered Rebel flight suit.
"My offer stands, Corran Horn," she stated purposefully. "Answer quickly; my patience is not unlimited by any means."
Corran shut his eyes again. A dark feeling of dread was urging him to refuse, to resist with all of his being, to fight back somehow, but an ever darker demon of fear pushed him to think of his friends. How could he justify letting K'talla kill them so that he could be free? The call of a Jedi was to respect life, and how could he attempt to follow that kind of philosophy if he did not do all he could to preserve life?
He lifted his head, looked K'talla in the eye, and gave his answer.
A school of placid green bottom-feeder fish drifted by the viewports of the Tactical Chamber, and Luke Skywalker wished, momentarily, that he could float with them: free of cares and unknowing that the galaxy stood on the brink of a collapse into darkness.
He realized someone behind him had spoken.
"I'm sorry, General Bel-Iblis," he said, turning round. "What did you say?"
The grizzled Rebel warrior smiled wearily at him. "Our border patrols say that the battlecruisers have withdrawn from the Ryloth system. It looks like they're going to back off for a little while."
"Fortifying Coruscant," Luke murmured to himself, and turned back to the viewports. The underwater cities of the In'ca Din'ca were spectacular, but they did remind him of Mon Calamari. Mon Calamari, which, with the defeat of the combined Rebel and In'ca Din'ca forces at Coruscant, was now in the hands of Dark Jedi Master K'talla M'niisonn and her burgeoning empire.
"Possibly," Bel Iblis agreed. "The Council seems to think so."
Luke smiled faintly. "Odd, isn't it, General? The way that we can become so accustomed to such a reversal of position so quickly and treat it as the norm. Eight months ago, we didn't trust that same Council much more than the Imperials."
A snort came from behind him. "Do we now?" the general asked sarcastically. "But speaking of Imperials, where do you suppose Thrawn's run off to?"
"Hopefully to somewhere where he can build up and strike back at our Dark Jedi friends," Luke murmured. "We cannot even consider the idea of taking the fight back to them anytime soon."
Bel Iblis sighed. "How could we have been so blind?" he asked softly. "How did we let them get into a position where they could do that much damage?"
"We were desparate," Luke said quietly. "Desperate, and helpless. Chances are, if we hadn't gone to them, you and I would be dead right now, and the In'ca Din'ca Jedi might still have control over most of the galaxy."
An insistent bleeping began sounding from one of the various comm and battle analysis panels scattered around the technology-cluttered room. Luke reached it in two strides and hit the button.
A burbling voice rang out of it, an alien language that Luke and the other Rebel survivors had had to become proficient at understanding and even speaking in a very short time.
"Really?" Luke asked the speaker, stretching out to the Force for calm. "When?"
The voice rambled on again.
"Fine," Luke told the speaker. "Have Ackbar alerted, and ask Djin'mat Control to have mine and General Bel Iblis' X-wings readied for launch. We'll be there shortly. Skywalker out." Luke hit the button. "Come on, General."
Bel Iblis swiped his jacket from a nearby chair as he followed Luke to the door. "What's wrong, Luke? Were we incorrect about the withdrawals?"
"No," Luke said quickly as they dashed into the hallway. "Three Star Destroyers just appeared at the edge of the system, claiming to be an envoy of peace from Grand Admiral Thrawn."
Author's Note: Well, to anyone who reads this thing, you should have read the first part of my series, To Push Back the Shadow (check my author profile if not). It really is needed to understand a lot of this story.
Fading Embers
Prologue
The chamber was dark and cold, oozing with impressions of violence, fear, and anger. Somehow, a dim glow suffused the air enough to provide sufficient illumination for sight, yet in some ways, it seemed to make the room more sinister. Footsteps echoed and machines whirred in the distance, but here, one could drown in the aura of evil.
This was a place of the dark side.
Corran Horn woke suddenly, still seated cross-legged in the center of the chamber. An odd fuzziness seemed to occupy the spaces usually filled by his recent memories of late, but he got the impression that he'd seen this place before. Also present, however, was an impression of imminent doom, and Corran had to fight back a rush of nausea and fear at the impulse, reaching out to the Force for strength.
He winced as a slight shift in his movements drove a spike of pain into his side. As he embraced the cooling flow of energy that was his Force reserves, he could sense the various wounds dealt to his body. Two- no, three- ribs had been broken and not repaired, and punctures and burns marked great portions of his limbs and torso. He coughed and tasted the bitter aftermath of vomit in his gorge.
From the darkness surrounding him, a shape loomed, tall, black like the surroundings, and terrible to behold. A halo of tentacles surrounded the massive, beaked skull, and the muscular, shining body and triple- jointed legs propelled it forward with purpose.
K'talla M'niisonn, Corran recalled, more of the grey veil lifting from his memories. A Dark Jedi.
"Corran Horn," burbled the oncoming alien ominously. "You are awake again. This is good."
The In'ca Din'ca female stopped short of arm's reach from Corran; even so, Corran's hand grasped futilely for a lightsaber he knew would not be there. He remembered his captors destroying his grandfather's blade in front of his eyes sometime in the past of his long weeks of interrogation and abuse.
They will not turn me.
"Foolish man," K'talla's scornful voice flayed him with its brutal contempt. "You cannot hope to resist the Dark Side. Give in, and you will be granted power beyond your imagining."
Corran tried to laugh, found that he lacked the energy. "I've heard that story before," he whispered harshly. "I will not betray my friends or the Force."
A deep, ominous laugh rang out, quickly falling into a snarl. "I grow tired of your futile resistance, Corran Horn," she spat. "Very well; as you wish it."
Confusion reigned in Corran's mind, but then a door slid open directly across from the pair of them at a distance of about three meters, and he was blinded by the sudden onslaught of light, and concentration vanished.
When he blinked away the tears again, he heard a hiss of a lightsaber, and found himself gazing at a horrible tableau: K'talla, standing tall and arrogant, blue blade ignited in her fist, another In'ca Din'ca minion across from her, holding back the head of Wedge Antilles, ready for a killing thrust.
"Wedge!" Corran's anguished hiss vanished into the dimness of the room.
His friend was in bad shape; both eyes had been blacked almost shut, and cuts marred his strong features. His hair had been partially burned off, and a blaster scar marred that section of his skull.
"You will accept my offer, or I will kill your friend," K'talla said brutally. "Do not try my patience; I have killed many times, and I will not hesitate to do so again."
Corran clenched his teeth, fighting back furious tears. "What... offer?" he managed to grunt through his clamped jaw.
The lightsaber drifted slightly away from Wedge's exposed chest, moving into line with Corran's motionless form. K'talla's eyes blazed with yellow flame, the very image of demonhood.
"You will obey my commands and allow me to train you as I see fit," K'talla said maliciously, clearing enjoying the effect of her damning words on the prisoner before her. "In exchange, I do not kill this man, but instead, keep him in safe custody for you when you have grown to my satisfaction."
One of Wedge's eyes flicked open slowly, the blue gleam seeming to pierce Corran's soul.
"Don't... Corran," he gasped, before a heavy clout to the back of the head drove him back into unconsciousness.
"What about the others?" Corran bit out harshly, a lump choking his throat. Please, let Luke and the others have succeeded and gotten away. Let there be some hope left.
Now it was K'talla's turn to hiss in vexation. "Alas, things diverged from what we had foreseen," she admitted. "Your precious Jedi friend successfully defeated the Imperials and fled despite our efforts to hold him. As of now, they and the remnants of the In'ca Din'ca Confederacy are barricading themselves in Wild Space. They are no danger to us here."
Corran squeezed his eyes shut. At least Luke had escaped. He fiercely regretted, now, not coming with Luke and learning the ways of the Jedi years ago when the offer had been made. But maybe his friends could find a way to leash this new horror they had inadvertently created.
A sudden thought popped into his mind; a fearful, horrifying thought. "Where are we?" he whispered. "What planet?"
A low chuckle came from the Dark Jedi. "Ah, little man," K'talla gloated. "That is the most delicious part of all.
"We are on Coruscant."
Corran hung his head. Coruscant. It was exactly as he'd feared. All the bloodshed over this planet's surface was simply to establish a new reign of tyranny over the galaxy.
The hum of the lightsaber changed pitch subtly, and Corran's eyes flew open to see the tip of K'talla's blade singeing threads slowly off of Wedge's tattered Rebel flight suit.
"My offer stands, Corran Horn," she stated purposefully. "Answer quickly; my patience is not unlimited by any means."
Corran shut his eyes again. A dark feeling of dread was urging him to refuse, to resist with all of his being, to fight back somehow, but an ever darker demon of fear pushed him to think of his friends. How could he justify letting K'talla kill them so that he could be free? The call of a Jedi was to respect life, and how could he attempt to follow that kind of philosophy if he did not do all he could to preserve life?
He lifted his head, looked K'talla in the eye, and gave his answer.
A school of placid green bottom-feeder fish drifted by the viewports of the Tactical Chamber, and Luke Skywalker wished, momentarily, that he could float with them: free of cares and unknowing that the galaxy stood on the brink of a collapse into darkness.
He realized someone behind him had spoken.
"I'm sorry, General Bel-Iblis," he said, turning round. "What did you say?"
The grizzled Rebel warrior smiled wearily at him. "Our border patrols say that the battlecruisers have withdrawn from the Ryloth system. It looks like they're going to back off for a little while."
"Fortifying Coruscant," Luke murmured to himself, and turned back to the viewports. The underwater cities of the In'ca Din'ca were spectacular, but they did remind him of Mon Calamari. Mon Calamari, which, with the defeat of the combined Rebel and In'ca Din'ca forces at Coruscant, was now in the hands of Dark Jedi Master K'talla M'niisonn and her burgeoning empire.
"Possibly," Bel Iblis agreed. "The Council seems to think so."
Luke smiled faintly. "Odd, isn't it, General? The way that we can become so accustomed to such a reversal of position so quickly and treat it as the norm. Eight months ago, we didn't trust that same Council much more than the Imperials."
A snort came from behind him. "Do we now?" the general asked sarcastically. "But speaking of Imperials, where do you suppose Thrawn's run off to?"
"Hopefully to somewhere where he can build up and strike back at our Dark Jedi friends," Luke murmured. "We cannot even consider the idea of taking the fight back to them anytime soon."
Bel Iblis sighed. "How could we have been so blind?" he asked softly. "How did we let them get into a position where they could do that much damage?"
"We were desparate," Luke said quietly. "Desperate, and helpless. Chances are, if we hadn't gone to them, you and I would be dead right now, and the In'ca Din'ca Jedi might still have control over most of the galaxy."
An insistent bleeping began sounding from one of the various comm and battle analysis panels scattered around the technology-cluttered room. Luke reached it in two strides and hit the button.
A burbling voice rang out of it, an alien language that Luke and the other Rebel survivors had had to become proficient at understanding and even speaking in a very short time.
"Really?" Luke asked the speaker, stretching out to the Force for calm. "When?"
The voice rambled on again.
"Fine," Luke told the speaker. "Have Ackbar alerted, and ask Djin'mat Control to have mine and General Bel Iblis' X-wings readied for launch. We'll be there shortly. Skywalker out." Luke hit the button. "Come on, General."
Bel Iblis swiped his jacket from a nearby chair as he followed Luke to the door. "What's wrong, Luke? Were we incorrect about the withdrawals?"
"No," Luke said quickly as they dashed into the hallway. "Three Star Destroyers just appeared at the edge of the system, claiming to be an envoy of peace from Grand Admiral Thrawn."