Fear...? No.
Anger...? Perhaps.
Hatred...?
Yes, hatred. My first new memory. I am reborn in it, I am its friend, its child. I am hatred.
Hatred of what?
Life? No, I AM alive. It is more than that.
Hatred for those who did this to me. Those who betrayed me! Yes.
But that is still not all.
I am hatred of something else. Something powerful, binding, absolute.
Hatred of… the Force.
Yes. The Force, which betrayed me most of all. The Force, which even now gives me cruel, treacherous life.
Well, if the force wants me alive, then I will turn its cruel gift upon itself.
Yes, I see it already. There is a mind. I must reach it.
Reach. REACH…
* * *
Pace Avers scratched at his wrist again mindlessly, as he tried again to visualise each step in the sequence of events to come. The sequence of events he hoped would come, he corrected himself.
A large tunnel viper slithered over his boot and he shivered, watching the scales pulsate and ripple as they shifted to a mix of dark greys and browns. It didn't acknowledge Pace, just licked the air behind him, pausing for a moment with its head above the ground searching, then slithered back down towards the forest floor. Pace turned his attention inward to keep himself from feeling or showing any kind of panic. He was not overly fond of snakes. Yet, he realised, bitterly, that they were somehow on just about every planet with any reasonable excuse for life.
Pace shivered again.
Disappearing under the carpet of leaves and spongy growths, Pace saw the viper's colors oscillate until they once again matched the muted greens and browns of the surrounding soil and moss, and the giant flake-barked pines looming in all directions. Even here, only several steps from the edge of the trees, it felt no different to when he had visited the heart of the forest. The trees were spaced no thinner, and the forest life was just as much a thick, teeming tapestry of deadly insects, snakes, lizards, and birds weaved deceptively between the branches and leaves, and the rocky, mossy, fungus-covered ground.
Pace suppressed a swallow, and mentally congratulated himself on his mostly calm state of mind. He needed to project absolute confidence from this point onward if things had any hope of going smoothly.
Unlike the viper, when Pace soon changed and adapted his colors, he would need to stand out, rather than blend in.
He took one last deep breath, held it for a short moment, then let it out, willing all his anxiety and apprehension to flow out with it. He tapped his ear twice to activate the tiny comlink beneath the surface of his skin.
"Alright, Bee, I'm going…" Pace faltered, "...up there." Idiot. He waved his hand pointlessly at the forest edge and finished, "To the temple."
There was a drawn out silence, during which Pace silently rebuked himself - and not for the first time - for speaking before he had decided what it was he wanted to say. Overhead, a blue-feathered macewing chirped impatiently, and the throaty shriek of some exotic creature Pace couldn't name echoed between the trees and cut though the background hum of the rampant forest life.
After an eternity, the comlink crackled in his ear with Bee's curt reply, "Ok." He left the word to hang a little before adding, "But don't forget you need to seem capable and all-knowing, Pace. When are you planning to slip into character?"
Pace rolled his eyes. Bee's prodigious talent for insulting Pace had always lay in his delivery, Pace felt.
"Funny, Bee," He fired back. "I think I could hear your systems overheating while you put that one together. Was that the best you could come up with, then? Or was it just taking your programming too long to run through all the permutations?" He didn't leave time for Bee to respond. Adjusting to a fractionally more serious tone, Pace tried to bring the focus back to the task at hand, "Anyway, you're not exactly helping. Don't forget you're as much a part of this show as I am, and if either of us don't play our parts perfectly," Pace drew his next words out, scratching his wrist again, "I'm a dead man."
"Hah!" Bee fired back sardonically, "I'd arrange that myself, if I could."
"But you'd miss me!" Pace said, overplaying the hurt in his voice.
"No, I wouldn't. Not a second time."
Pace chuckled at Bee's blaster-quick reply, and countered jovially, "Hey, you owe me your life don't forget, Bee."
"I owe nobody anything."
Bee's voice had a sudden, subtle iciness, something only Pace would have been able to recognise from his time spent with Bee aboard the Seychelles Araea.
"I know, Bee, I know," Pace quickly assured him, his hands raised, as if pacifying the droid, aware still that his physical gestures were empty expressions through the voice-only com channel. Bee and the Araea were hovering in a chamber in the network of ancient tunnels far below him, but Pace liked to talk to Bee as though they were together - as if it added some intangible weight to his words.
After a more sober pause this time, Bee gently came to life again on the comlink, his voice utterly neutral, "Pace?"
"Hm? What is it, Bee?" Pace was testing his equipment as he replied, triple checking everything was firmly in place.
"You know I can't see you through the commlink, right?"
Pace stood up from his fidgeting and grinned widely to himself. Bee knew him too well. Pace didn't acknowledge the question, though - he didn't need to. Bee had known somehow that Pace was gesturing again, and in his masterful way, Bee had packed everything he intended to in just that one simple, insulting question.
Instead Pace said nothing as he slung to the ground the thin and cheaply sewn shoulder bag he had picked up the previous day at the Poa'pond markets, on the outskirts of Engui'la, flicking a tiny lizard off the drawstring. The fabric was reportedly of the finest quality lowdy-wool.
"Takennnn from only the healthiessst of the lowwwland rovii young," the dark, oily-skinned Enguihan stallman had assured him between licks of the air with his forked tongue, "Fed only greennn grasss from the slopes of Mount A'utka and clippped at their prime, the wool is worked by the nimmble handsss of our most ressspected artisan lowdies." All that, Pace recalled, and he only had to pay half of what Ra'iktush was asking across the thoroughfare for lesser quality material! Not a bargain, no, but a life-defining opportunity, if he was to believe the conviction in the Enguihan's well-rehearsed presentation.
Pace snorted. Feeling it now as he opened it, the brown 'wool' was rough and brittle to the touch, and thin. He could probably have ripped the bag in two with his bare hands easily enough. He would be lucky if there was any genuinely organic material in it at all, or any that originated on Mandor, at least.
On the other hand…
From the cheap throwaway bag, Pace took the robes. No sales pitch was necessary for these. These robes were not the type of thing Pace would find at a cheap market stall, and they had been well looked after for many years. More to the point, they looked the part.
As he pulled them out, the tufts of wool parted obediently, soft and fluid as water between his fingers. The expertly stitched hems, together with the old and clearly well-loved, yet still magically silk-like fabric told him everything he needed to know. These robes, loaned by a friend, were real, lovingly crafted lowdy-wool robes. The rovii whose wool was donated to make this garment had lived well, and were clearly cared for - raised to be healthy. Raised by lowdies.
All of this simply meant it was now Pace's significant responsibility to make the generous loan worthwhile.
He gave them a quick shake. Once he was satisfied there were no unwelcome guests hiding cozily in the folds, he brushed the last of the clinging foliage off aggressively. Happy, Pace swung the robes around his shoulders and torso and pulled the cord to fasten them in place around his waist, letting the excess material flow over his legs and booted feet. He tugged the sleeves over his arms, scratching at the irritation on his wrist once more as he did so. Nothing of his mismatched red and blue jumpsuit was visible now.
Finally Pace said, "Just be ready, Bee. And watch for my signals."
He pulled the hood from behind his neck up and over his wild, orange-brown hair, and shuffled it into place until he was satisfied that the effect was complete. The front of the hood hung generously over his head, concealing a large portion of the top of his face, and casting shadows over his lips and jaw.
Impressively, there was no sarcastic retort from Bee this time, only a simple, "I'm ready."
Pace smiled again to himself, feeling more relaxed. The short verbal spar was a reminder to Pace that Bee was probably better at anticipating Pace's behaviour than Pace was himself. The sure confidence in Bee's jabbing remarks was like a familiar friend, and it helped to make him feel that, together, they were in control.
Slowly, evenly, he walked towards the edge of the forest. This was one of Pace and Bee's most difficult and elaborate missions to date, and right now was where their carefully laid out plans would either pay off, or come to a disastrous, and possibly fatal anti-climax.
Pace saw the moss-stained stone of the giant steps peeking through the edge of the forest only moments before he emerged, the trees still grown thick across the line where they abruptly marked the end of the forest. As he passed the last of the massive pines to his left, he saw the first flurry of activity on the temple steps.
Just as his study of the temple operations had told him there would be, eight Enguihan guards stood in rows on opposite sides of the top steps. They held long blaster-staves that ended in small, oval balloons tipped with a small protrusion where the weapon's energy coalesced, and projected the blaster bolt.
On the landing above them, standing perfectly central and looking for all the galaxy as still and solid as some emerald statue, Captain Cordassa leant on his blast-staff, his reptilian tail resting limp, curling behind and around him to hang tip-only over the edge of the top step in front of him.
Cordassa was flanked by two pairs of human guards who stood straighter and more still than the Enguihans. Their scaled metal armour shone brightly in contrast to the Enguihan guards' dull leather weaved jerkins. Unlike the Enguihan's blaster-staves, the men held long, thick poles which ended in a large, curved blade. The sharpened blades glowed with thin, pulsating energy, tracing perfectly along the curved edge of the weapon. Sun-pikes. If Pace had not already known from his research, those weapons would be all he would need to see to know that these human guards were members of Revitsh's elite. Members of what rumours and whispers told him were the 'Crimson Watch'.
When the first Enguihan guard noticed Pace, he called to the others, and they all shifted their long blaster-staves to point vaguely forward - closer to, but not quite directly in Pace's direction. Their nervousness was well hidden, but Pace knew that despite arduous training, their experience was not extensive, and so he was looking for the subtle reactions he would expect to see at the unprecedented visit from a hooded stranger. What he saw - small ripples of scales, and flicks of their long green tails - reassured Pace in his own confidence, bringing a small rush of adrenaline, and he had to force himself to keep his steps even.
The Crimson guards above made no movement at all that was perceptible.
He covered the distance between the expansive tree line and the steps in a few easy strides, and started climbing. He had to focus on keeping his feet from sliding on the moss and soggy leaves covering the first few steps, and then from tripping on the vines creeping slowly over the edge of the walls that stretched above the sides of the staircase, and tangled down across the steps themselves. When Pace was nearly halfway up, Captain Cordassa walked lazily down a few of the great sandstone steps - not in an effort to share any of the walking and meet him halfway, Pace thought, as much to convey his annoyance and lack of concern, trying to brush this nuisance aside as expediently as possible.
Pace stopped when he was two steps from the Captain - two thirds of the way up to the landing. The Captain stopped as well.
"I am Avelion Parce," Pace said without preamble, projecting his voice as loudly as he could, "Jedi master!"
The reaction he drew from the last words was tangible, and satisfying. The Enguihan guards, still spread evenly across the steps, the lowest pair now behind him, shuffled their webbed feet until they faced almost directly at Pace and tightened their grips on their staves. He let his words sink in, if only for a heartbeat or two. Pace caught the nervous glance one of the younger guards flashed to another, and he allowed himself a small sense that he may actually be able to pull this thing off.
The advice of his contacts had been right - the arrival of a Jedi was definitely something the guards were not prepared to deal with.
Again, however, the Crimson guards atop the staircase remained impressively still.
Captain Cordassa, to his credit, barely flinched. He narrowed his scaly, slotted eyes at Pace, and began opening his mouth to speak, but Pace cut him off and continued. "I have come to Mandor, and to sacred Enguirrlar to face Governor Revitsh, so that I may cast upon him the judgement of the New Jedi Order..." he hesitated, and his hesitation very quickly evolved into a pause.
This time however, the pause Pace left between his words was not a strategic one. He swore inwardly.
A second passed, then another, as confusion began to spread on the Captain's face opposite Pace. Suddenly desperate, Pace cast his eyes over the Enguihan retinue, then the human attache, making as much eye contact as he could and hoping fervently that it gave off the impression of someone assessing, calculating.
Then he heard two soft and very welcome words buzz over his comlink.
"'His crimes'…" Bee prompted.
"Revitsh's crimes," Pace picked up again instantly, with renewed vigor, and snapping his eyes back to Captain Cordassa, "Against the New Republic's galactic peace efforts are many, and have delivered to our galaxy dark and unforgivable consequences." To himself, he promised he would thank Bee for the rescue when he got back to the Araea. If he made it back at all, that was.
The Captain's reptilian tail swished languidly along the ground once, showing his disinterest. Pace rounded off his monologue anyway.
"The order will see justice dealt!"
Pace hoped he exuded a calm he did not feel. The Captain was apparently not at all impressed by Pace's performance. Pace felt hot now, and he found himself wishing the heavy lowdy-wool robes had not been necessary.
After a few tension-laden breaths the Captain shot his forked tongue in and out once, twice, then shook his head. Pace drew in a slow, quiet drag of the thick, warm, musty forest air, preparing himself.
"Youuu are noooo Jedi," Cordassa said, with a kind of bored dismissal. "Annnd you may not," he sucked in air noisily mid-sentence, as if it was a disgrace that he should be made to explain it, "enter the palaccceee."
The Enguihan's tensed, their normally shining scales darkening to a nervous matte grey. Pace's heart skipped as the Captain slowly brought his blast-staff around at his waist until the bulbous firing end pointed directly at Pace. Pace bit his teeth together hard.
"Youuuu will leave Enguirrlar, annnd you will go-" Captain Cordassa did not have a chance to finish.
In a quick flash Pace brought his right arm up and aimed his hand directly at the Captain's staff. It leapt out of the Captain's grasp and flew through the air towards Pace's outstretched fingers.
After nearly fumbling the catch, Pace grabbed it firmly, and swung it down and around to rest at his side. In the same motion, he brought his left arm up and pointed his open hand towards the throat of Captain Cordassa, who was still two steps above him staring, mouth open. Then he squeezed his fingers like he was trying to crush an invisible grenade.
It was like there was no space separating them at all.
The Captain abruptly went still, and brought his hands up to his scaly neck, clawing at it, gasping for air. Spluttering amidst intermittent choking sounds, he slowly dropped to one knee, struggled for a moment, and then dropped to the other. The muscles on his neck were tight, the scales flashing in multicolored waves of greens, purples, blacks and browns as he pulled, tugged desperately at the invisible hands around his throat. The pain on his face was unmistakable.
Before the other guards had a chance to react, the Captain bravely peeled a hand away from his throat and shot it in the air above and behind him, palm out to still his troops.
This time however, the Crimson Watch guards reacted. Ignoring Cordassa's command, they swung their sun-pikes around in a whirl, pointing the tips of the faintly glowing blades directly at Pace in perfect unity.
Pace boomed the words, "Do NOT do anything foolish!" Even as the Enguihan's belatedly followed the humans' example above them, and levelled their weapons at Pace, he continued - quieter, but no less authoritative, "Or your Captain will die."
The guards shuffled on their feet and exchanged glances.
"I do not want to have to hurt any of you," Pace said more gently this time, and it was mostly true, if moot.
Around the steps, rocks and debris began to float into the air. The Enguihan guard highest on the left was the first to notice. He looked over at them, suddenly fearful. Seconds later they had all seen them. A few of the larger, heavier rocks slowly rotated in place as they hovered several metres from the ground, just over the edge of the staircase walls.
The effect was almost exactly as Pace had hoped. This time, even the Crimson Watch were distracted from their duties momentarily. The Enguihan guards were visibly afraid, and Pace pressed the advantage. He threw the stolen staff over the side of the steps, and the heavy weapon fell to the packed soil below with a damp thud.
There was a brief moment of heightened tension, the air still and silent, no movement but for the hovering rocks.
Pace advanced upward onto the next step, keeping his gaze locked with the Captain's bulging eyes as he did. With Captain Cordassa on his knees on the step above him, even with his relatively small stature Pace was looking down at him.
Finally, after agonising seconds had passed, Pace relaxed the fingers of his tightened hand, and the Captain collapsed in relief. He gasped desperately, sagging further to the ground and taking several stuttered gulps of air. Pace heard the in-out rhythm of Cordassa's normal breathing slowly, painfully, return.
With the rocks still floating around them, Pace dropped his left arm, deliberately overshooting to let his elbow catch on the edge of his robes, and knock them slightly open. Silver flashed from between the folds and caught the early afternoon sun shining from the west perfectly. The top guard saw the glint and pointed urgently.
"Lightssssaberrrr!" He hissed, his tongue waving up and down rapidly, then darting back behind his thin, blue lips. There was an unintelligible hiss from the other three guards in response, which Pace felt sounded like a mix of fear and disgust. The Crimson guards took a small, subtle step forward.
Again he did not squander the moment.
Pace brought his right arm up once more, slower this time, and stretched it out in front of him, palm facing down. He did not aim at any of the guards or Captain Cordassa in particular, but extended his fingers to cast an imaginary web over all of them. He hoped this next trick wouldn't be too much.
Blue sparks flared to life between his fingers, crackling and snapping as the streaks of lightning hopped and flicked from one finger to the other in rapid and chaotic patterns. The hair on the back of Pace's neck stood stiffly up. Pace hoped the sweat, which he felt sure was now cascading down over his face, was not visible to the guards.
"I said, I don't want to hurt anyone."
The Captain, his breathing more steady, pushed himself up and returned to his feet, to stand in front of Pace. The arrogance in the Captain's earlier stance was noticeably absent, and the hard edged spines that normally protruded from his shoulders all the way up to the back of his elongated head were pressed lower down against his skin. He looked into Pace's eyes, and his whole body seemed to ripple.
The guards watched their Captain nervously and waited. Pace waited, too. One of the guards of the Crimson Watch who had jet-black hair and beard, spat on the ground between his feet..
"Alllright, Jedi," Cordassa hissed finally, "Havvve it your wayyyy."
Captain Cordassa didn't wait for Pace to respond before he rose, spun around, and marched up the steps toward the temple, almost knocking Pace over with his tail as it waved around in a violent arc. Approaching the last Enguihan guard, Cordassa held his hand out expectantly. The guard looked unsure, but passed his blast-staff over to Cordassa anyway. Cordassa didn't stop, or acknowledge his subordinate, just took the blast-staff and kept walking.
Pace let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding in. "Thank you," he said cheerfully, inclining his head in mock politeness. He lowered his still sparking hand and hid it back underneath his heavy sleeve, then followed the Captain.
"Whatever happenssss inside," Cordassa rasped, the two of them walking directly past the Crimson Watch, who followed Pace's passing with the tips of their sun-pikes, "willll be what is deserrrvvvved."
As they left both sets of guards behind them, the rocks and twigs floating around them dropped all at once, and hit the ground in a succession of dull thuds and clatters. Pace was sure he heard the dark haired Crimson Watchmen take a sharp breath, then shortly after spit again on the ground behind them.
As they crossed the expansive landing towards the open temple archways, passing the expertly neglected gardens on either side, Pace threw a silent prayer to the spirits of the old rebellion in relief. Without thinking, he raised his hand up to his chest, clutching at a ghost long since lost. The gesture was still somewhat comforting, if only for habit's sake.
It was no small measure of luck that none of the guards had spotted any of the three floating rocks that had dropped awkwardly to the ground before all the others.
After an interval that felt longer than he had planned, the electricity snapping and whipping along his fingers finally fizzled, and died. His whole hand, and most of his forearm tingled with numbness. The only concession was that the itch on his wrist had temporarily abated. He could have kept the sparks going for longer, if needed. But he wasn't sure he wouldn't temporarily have lost the use of his arm completely if he had.
He followed Cordassa slowly toward the temple entrance, allowing himself the time to calm a little, his frantic breathing returning to normal.
Steeling himself for what was next, he straightened his robes again, and they continued on through the huge, pale and cracked pillars flanking the first of a set of archways leading into the temple foyer.
When he was sure he was out of earshot of the guards, he muttered under his breath, "Good work, Bee."
Bee's reply was instant.
"As ever," Was all he said.
Pace smiled and shook his head slightly. Then he let the smile slide away, and breathed heavily.
"Now comes the hard part."
"Now comes the hard part," Bee echoed.