Chapter One
"...to ground we must go. Wait for the right time to emerge we must..."
- Yoda
He placed the electrodes against the hull plating he had replaced and tack welded into place and pressed the ignition switch on the staff handle in his gloved hand. A bright electro plasma arch flashed into view and melted the durasteel plate. He began carefully drawing the arch down the interface of the plate and the base plate underneath it. He pulled the arch down and then pushed up leaving a joint of fused material behind. He pulled it again and pushed back leaving another rounded joint in the weld.
The light from the arch reflected brightly off his face and protective goggles. He spent two minutes welding one side of the plate down and then stood up. He removed the goggles and examined the still glowing weld. Satisfied, he pulled the power cord and whipped a large amount of slack in the cord over to him. He knelt down on the adjacent side of the panel and began the same process again with a bright blast of light.
After three more sides, he deactivated the electro welder and stood up.
"Thanks for letting me use your power," he said as he tossed the extension cord all the way down to the trader.
"No problem, my friend. Anything for a fellow YT-1300 driver." Dax looked around him into the other bays. There were five YT-1300 all in different stages of assembly. The trader spoke up, "It's getting harder and harder to find parts."
"Yeah, well I appreciate you letting me do business with you. It's nice to have proper parts again." He climbed down the vertical ladder and turned to his friend. "I've had to use other parts and pieces lately. It's nice swapping them all out for the real deal."
"Have you been hearing about the YT that's been making news with the Empire lately?" he asked.
"Yeah, the Millennium Falcon, right? That guy's ballsy. The rebellion really is serious, isn't it?"
The trader shook his head.
"It smells like the Clone Wars all over again."
Dax pursed his lips.
"Someone else needs to fight this one. History remembers that conflict differently than I do."
"You and me both."
"Speaking of the old days," Dax gestured to the side of the landing pad back where there were four pallets with four round, burnt red metal objects banded to them ready for transport. To the common person, they would be unidentifiable. To someone who had seen them before knew exactly what they were. "What are you doing with four destroyer droids? I thought those were all rounded up and disposed of."
"Eh, I come across things. They' temperamental, but their tough."
Oh, I know, Dax thought.
"How much do you want for them?" Dax asked. The trader looked over his shoulder at them and back to Dax.
"You want one of those?" the tender asked.
"No," Dax said as he walked toward them, "I want all four of them." The trader laughed.
"I'll do you a deal. Twenty-thousand for all four."
"Done."
"I love doing business with you, Dax. Where are you going next?"
"I was thinking about Tatooine. The huts have recently reopend the pod racer circuit there. It's been a while since I've seen a pod race," he paused, "and I can earn a little money."
The darkly robed figure sat in the pilot's chair of the Imperial Tie transport with his legs outstretched underneath the helm console and his head propped up on his left fist. His skin was a pale blue, and his eyes were a directionless dark red. He looked out the bridge windows at the swirling blue clouds of hyperspace with a very bored expression.
He had a prisoner locked up in the small ship's brig. The prisoner was a Colonel of the Imperial Army who had gone turn-coat to smuggle Wookies out of his duty station. The figure rolled his eyes as he blinked. Everyone in the galaxy had a place. The officer had failed to realize that everyone had a task. Ever since the Wooky rebellion after the end of the war, they were to be construction slaves for the Empire.
At a young age after the Jedi Order had betrayed Chancellor Palpatine, and the Chancellor had been forced to order the Clones of the Republic against the Jedi, Emrik had known his path. As a child, he experienced orbital bombardment by the Republic forces only for the Jedi to show up and perform their "aggressive negotiations" at the end of a lightsaber. The Jedi were hypocrites, and he could not stand them. It was no surprise that toward the end of the war the Jedi tried to seize power and hold the Senate under their thumb.
In grade school, Emrik had been selected through a very trying process to continue his education and become one of the Emperor's Inquisitors, a warrior sent to hunt and pursue escaped Jedi. He and other selectees then went through ten years of physical and mental training. The best battle droids, his classmates, and mature Inquisitors they were tried and vetted by the best…and here he was escorting a prisoner back to Coruscant.
He sighed. He had been in the field for five years, and he had only been able to pursue two Jedi from the Old Republic. One of whom he defeated, but the second had alluded him in a snow avalanche on Naboo. While he hated the Jedi, he had a respect for them. They were a formidable foe.
He continued to stare out the front viewport with glazed eyes. It had been two years since he had crossed blades with a real enemy. He could feel the atrophy building and his skills dulling. The turn-coat had put up a good fight no mistaking, however, deflecting blaster bolts and using the Force for deflect projectile explosives was child's play. Maybe they had gotten all of the Jedi. Maybe there was going to be no more use for the Inquisitors. Regardless, he needed to cross sabers with someone and soon, even if it was his own brothers or sisters.
The console began beeping a three toned alert. He shifted his vision to the helm, and the swirling, blue winds of hyperspace faded and stretched into long stars that quickly snapped back into individual starts and the city plant of Coruscant.
Had it already been five hours? Emrik asked himself. He leaned over to his left and looked with his red eyes to see his battalion's star destroyer hovering quietly in orbit around the planet. He pulled his feet in and took a deep breath as he straightened his dark tunic. A small display to his left lit up with a basic schematic of the star destroyer, and the audio system came to life.
"Shuttle at my port quarter, this is Imperial Star Destroyer Emperium. Identify yourself." Emrik pressed the transmit button.
"This is Inquisitor Emrik. Stand by for command clearance." He pressed another sequence of buttons and leaned back in the chair. He waited a moment as the star destroyer steadily grew larger in his view port. Tiny, grey specks emerged from the port hangar and slowly grew into Tie fighters as they approached.
"Welcome back Inquisitor," the voice on the other end said. "You may begin your approach. Portside hangar is prepared for you."
Emrik set his course. The Tie fighters roared past him and took up an escort position around his ship. The Tie shuttle approached the star destroyer slow and deliberately. The Emperium's body was the signature Republic cruiser, now dubbed a "star destroyer". It had been modified by removing its twin command heads and replacing them with the singular trapezoidal shaped bridge signature of the newest Imperial-class star destroyers. The colors on the ship had been changed from rust red and amour yellow highlights to shades of ghost and slate grey.
The Tie shuttle entered the landing bay, followed by the four fighters. The smooth, clean sides of the enormous hangar were indicative of the order demanded by the Empire. The shuttle slowed, and its four landing feet unfolded from its belly. It slowly came to a stop, hovered, and landed.
Emrik set the auto landing sequence and got up from the pilot's seat. He walked through the corridor of the ship and entered the brig. There laid his prisoner restrained to a massive hover plate.
"Wake up, Colonel," Emrik said with a sharp tone. The prisoner's eyes shot open in terror. The man, still in his grey uniform had a strange, modeled bruise pattern across his face. Emrik tapped a command into a small console, and the hover plate lifted off the floor. "We're here."
In the hangar, the Tie shuttle sat quiet for a moment. Five ranks of Imperial Storm Troopers stood at attention just ahead and of the ship forming a passageway down the expansive hangar. A naval officer walked down the corridor formed by the opposing formations with another figure. The second figure was dressed in a long, red helmet and cloak. The helmet's face was split with a dark, narrow visor, and he carried a durasteel staff with blade on one end. The two came to a stop at the base of the spacecraft and waited.
Inside the brig, Emrik tapped another command into the console, and they began to lower out of the bottom of the ship. The bright light from the hangar bay pierced into the room. Emrik could feel his prisoner's fear.
"Now it's time to begin your next set of interrogations." As the floor came to rest on the hangar's deck, he looked forward to see the two figures, the naval officer, and the one clad in red.
It was an Emperor's Guardsman!
The Emperor's Guard was tasked with protecting the Emperor himself! Emrik narrowed his eyes. What in the galaxy were they doing here? There was little chance the Emperor was on board this star destroyer. No matter. He pressed on the back of the hover plate and began walking it forward.
"Inquisitor Emrik, welcome," the officer said. The Guardsman put his hand on Emrik's chest, stopping him as two storm troopers broke off from either side's formation and took control of the hover plate and followed the figure clad in red. Emrik stopped and looked down at the red hand on his chest and back up at the Guardsman.
"Is the Emperor here, Commander?"
"Oh, no," the Commander said easily.
"Does the Emperor have a particular interest in this prisoner?"
"Oh, no it's nothing like that."
"Then what is the meaning of this?" Emrik asked.
"We are turning over the prisoner to the Emperor's Guard for further interrogation," the Commander said matter-of-factly. The Guardsman kept his arm outstretched, staring at Emrik.
"Why am I turning over my prisoner to an agent of the Emperor's Guard if the Emperor has no concern with this subject?" he asked the officer with a tone of disdain.
The Imperial Guardsman slowly closed the distance between the two, his eyes totally shielded behind the red mask and black visor. Emrik stared into that visor with his red eyes.
"What of it, clone?" Emrik said flatly. Feeling the tension in the air, the Commander stepped back a pace. Emrik probed with the Force and felt a steady flame of confidence, commitment, and anger gained from years of combat experience in the red-clad soldier.
With a subtle move of his ceremonial weapon, the Guardsman tapped the blade of his staff against Emrik's lightsaber hilt in a light tink…tink…
A very low, almost inaudible voice came from the glossed, red helmet.
"Order 66 is still in effect, Force Wielder," the Guardsman said. Emrik pulled the smallest smile.
"I am no Jedi, clone," he said. Without a movement of the helmet, the low whisper came again.
"You're close enough for me." They stared at each other for another moment, and the Emperor's Guardsman stepped away from Emrik and resumed his course with the storm troopers and prisoner. The Commander clasped his hands together to break the tension.
"There is another mission for you, Inquisitor," the Commander said flustered. Emrik followed the Guardsman with his eyes and then began walking with the Commander in tow. "Inquisitor Bath'aan has received information from one of his spies that he has located the Millennium Falcon."
"The rebel ship involved in the Death Star incident," Emrik verified.
"Yes. The capture of its crew can lead us to the Rebellion."
"We are sure this is the ship?" Emrik asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Where is it going?"
"Tatooine, sir."
"Set course immediately."