Chapter 1
Five Years Later…
The Executor-class Star Dreadnaught Manticore drifted lazily—or as lazily as the nineteen-kilometer long vessel could manage—in orbit above the mottled brown and tan orb rotating slowly four hundred kilometers below. Oceans of sand reflected so much light from the system's binary sun that it cast a bright yellow glow on what should have been the shaded underbelly of the great ship.
Closing the distance between them in three strides, Captain Gil Zarin stepped up to the Grand Admiral, who was gazing over an ensign's shoulder at some shield modification reports sent to the bridge from engineering.
"Admiral Piett," Zarin said in a hushed voice.
The Grand Admiral glanced back over his shoulder, his golden epaulettes swinging with the motion. "Yes, Captain?" he said in his characteristically soft voice. In the five years since he'd been promoted to the rank of Grand Admiral, Firmus Piett seemed to have aged twenty, particularly in recent weeks. His already sagging cheeks had become increasingly lined and he had the overall appearance of a man suffering from chronic exhaustion.
"Sir, Lord Arisin reports that he is about to make contact with the Tuskens."
Piett sighed. "Thank you, Captain Zarin. I just wish he'd allowed me to assign him a stormtrooper escort. Tusken Raiders are not to be trifled with."
"Well begging the admiral's pardon," Zarin said, "but neither is Lord Arisin."
Piett raised an eyebrow. "Point," he said. "All the same, there are protocols to be followed. Lord Arisin is powerful, certainly, but he isn't invulnerable. We found that out at Gravoxx."
"If memory serves, sir, Lord Arisin had stormtrooper backup on Gravoxx."
"My point exactly, Captain," Piett pointed out.
The captain nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Did he mention how long it would take him to collect the information he's after?"
Zarin shook his head. "No, Admiral. As you know, the lead he's following is nearly five years old. And there are many tribes scattered across the sands. This is probably a wild bantha chase as it is."
Piett gave his subordinate a hard look. "Lord Arisin seemed confident that this lead would pan out," he told the captain. "The Dark Lord may be a little brash at times, but he's usually very good at being right about these things."
Darth Arisin shielded his eyes against the blazing twin suns of Tatooine with one black-gloved hand as he flew at a blinding speed over the featureless terrain. It would seem he'd never truly be rid of that desolate chunk of rock floating around the Outer Rim Territories. It was a constant reminder of who he'd once been and who he had promised himself that he'd never be again.
As he flew over the endless expanse of dirt, rock, and sand, he came to appreciate just how barren Tatooine really was. It wasn't often as a youth that he could see his homeworld from the air and really take in the vast desolation. His sensor readings showed no sentient-made structures within fifty kilometers. The closest population center was Mos Eisley about eighty klicks to the north, his old homestead several kilometers out beyond that. Having lived on Coruscant for the last half decade, he couldn't believe that this had once been home.
The suns, nearing their midday apex, had now shifted so as to shine directly and painfully into his eyes. The glare glittering off the sand, which was curiously not composed of eroded rock as most sand but rather fine particles of glass, was itself enough to impair his vision beyond anything a raised hand could fix. With a sigh he gave in and adjusted the canopy's light filter and the cockpit darkened significantly, giving his eyes a reprieve from the harsh desert glare.
"You alright back there, Threepio?" he called over his shoulder to the figure sitting directly behind him in the starfighter's passenger seat.
"My restraints are rather tight, Master Arisin," the golden protocol droid complained. "But I don't believe there will be any lasting damage."
Arisin had to smile to himself. Given enough time, Threepio could find a complaint about pretty much anything.
"Good. We should be there soon once we get the location from my contact. You sure you speak Tusken? Because I only picked up a few words when I was here." Arisin winced, instantly regretting the question.
"Master Arisin, as you know I am fluent in over—"
"Six million forms of communication," Arisin muttered along with the droid. "Yes, I know. I was just checking."
"Oh," Threepio said, sounding a little embarrassed. "Well then yes, I'm certain."
"This lead had better take us somewhere," Arisin he warned nobody in particular. "After five years, we aren't any closer to finding Katarn and the Jedi. Especially not since Moff Panaka's defection with most of his sector fleet. The Emperor underestimated the reaction to Naboo's destruction."
"I just cannot believe the trouble Artoo has been causing," Threepio lamented. "Slicing into the Imperial network and causing so much damage. After all he's been through, his circuits must have degraded."
Arisin frowned. He sometimes forgot how difficult it had been for the droid without his counterpart. Even he had to admit that he missed the little astromech and had taken its betrayal personally. Maybe it was silly, but he had thought of Artoo as a friend. It pained him to think of what would need to be done once he caught up to the droid; he wondered if Threepio knew that his friend had a death mark on his dome. Arisin believed the excitable and prissy protocol droid actually understood more than people gave him credit for.
A blinking light on his comm screen caught his attention. With the press of a button he connected the incoming transmission.
"Yes?" he said as the image of a grizzled Toydarian resolved itself on the screen.
"Lord Arisin," it said in heavily accented Basic. Arisin could see his comically small wings fluttering in a blur behind the alien's back. "I have-a thee on my scanners. That is a very interesting craft thee has. I wonder if an offer could be made on it?"
"That's not going to happen, Forn. Do you the location of the tribe or not?"
"I do, I do!" he squawked. "But-a thee can't blame a guy for trying."
Arisin rolled his eyes. Growing up on Tatooine he had dealt with Toydarians his whole life and every one, it seemed, was trying to get a deal on something or another. The blue alien's trunk-like nose flapped as he spoke, his broken tusks jutting out from his tiny lower jaw. "I got confirmation of their camp just this morning. I'm sending the coordinates to thee now."
Arisin checked and sure enough, he was receiving a datastream. He opened the file and input the information into the navigation computer. Instantly, a map of the desert sprang up with a red dot flashing at the mouth of a large canyon about ninety kilometers to the northwest. He altered his heading accordingly, the shadows inside the cockpit changing as the twin suns shifted position relative to the craft.
"This had better be the right tribe, Forn," Arisin warned, switching back to the Toydarian. "Assuming the information is accurate, you can expect your payment deposited in your account by the end of the local day."
"It's good, Lord Arisin! I promise this!"
"And once that has been confirmed, you'll be compensated," Arisin said firmly, adding a bit of an edge to his voice. "Not before."
"Right," Forn said quickly. "Of course, My Lord! I meant no disrespect."
"Good. The Empire thanks you for your services." Before Forn could respond he broke the connection. He hated dealing with brokers but the truth was, their networks were light-years ahead of anything a government like the Empire could ever hope to have. All the most reliable intelligence came at a price and the Emperor reluctantly understood that.
Pushing the throttle to its atmospheric maximum, Arisin shot the starfighter across the Dune Sea at breakneck speed, closing the distance to the encampment in just a few minutes.
As the canyon drew closer, Arisin reached out with the Force; sure enough, there was a gathering of life-forms down there, at least three dozen of them. He had a hard time sensing anything else, though. The Tuskens were simply too primitive to get more than a vague sense of emotion from. He sensed fear and anxiety as his ship approached the camp, which was visible now, nestled in the shade just inside the mouth of the canyon. He saw perhaps a dozen simple huts arranged in small circles around several large fire pits. As he made a pass over the camp, he saw for the first time what could only be female and adolescent Sand People. In all his years on Tatooine he had only seen Tuskens a handful of times and had never seen any of their culture beyond raiding parties. He had always assumed females would be amongst them but given the clearly dissimilar garb, it was evident that he'd only ever seen the males of the species. Though not relevant to the mission in the least, Arisin found it fascinating nevertheless.
Locating a decent landing spot just outside the entrance to the canyon, Arisin gently lowered the ship on its repulsors until it landed with a slight jostle on the hard dirt ground. The landing had kicked up a huge plume of fine dust, completely obscuring everything outside. He popped the canopy and almost immediately sensed an attack brewing.
"Threepio," he called over his shoulder as he tried to see through the dust at the Tuskens he knew were there. "Set your vocoder at maximum volume and tell them that I am a fierce warrior and if they attack me, they will regret it."
"Of course, Master Arisin." The golden droid unleashed a long string of guttural grunts and growls so loud that it made Arisin give a little jump in his seat. A moment later there came an answering cry from the dust cloud.
"He identifies himself as RR'Khur'kruh, the chieftain of these clans, and demands that we state our business," Threepio translated for Arisin.
"Tell him that I would speak with him about their previous chieftain," Arisin explained. "And I'd like to do it privately."
As Threepio relayed the message, the dust settled enough that Arisin could see that his ship had been completely encircled by gaffi stick wielding Sand People. Directly in front of the ship was the Tusken Threepio was communicating with. His sand robes were slightly different, darker, and his gaffi stick was decorated with what looked like various bones hanging from thin leather straps; around his neck he wore what Arisin suspected was a Krayt dragon tooth. Clearly he was not a being to underestimate.
"Master Arisin, he wishes to know what business we have with Chieftain A'Sharad'hett."
Arisin could still sense the hostility of the warriors around him but all he got from the chieftain was curiosity.
"Tell him my business is my own and that I would like information."
"At once sir. He also inquires how we intend to pay for this time with him."
The Sith sighed. Everywhere you went, even the most remote cultures, it always boiled down to payment of some kind. Nothing was done for free.
"Tell him we'll work something out after I have what I want," he said, releasing his restraints and reaching behind him to undo Threepio's. With a heave, he launched himself out of the cramped cockpit and onto the hard cracked ground. Using the Force, he lifted Threepio out of his seat while he continued to translate Arisin's last message.
The Tusken chieftain suddenly barked aggressively and Arisin sensed his anger.
"Threepio?"
The golden droid shifted anxiously from foot to foot. "Oh dear! Master Arisin, it seems we have insulted him by not offering payment upfront and he demands that we leave immediately! We're doomed!"
Arisin ignored Threepio's dramatics and shook his head. "We aren't going anywhere without what we came for."
Threepio hadn't even finished translating when the attack came. Two of the Tuskens standing behind Arisin rushed the Sith, their gaffi sticks held high.
With a flash of red, Arisin's lightsaber was activated and slashing across the first Sand Person's chest. The second Sand Person stopped short, slowly lowering his weapon as he watched his comrade drop to the dirt.
Blade humming, Arisin stood perfectly still, glaring at the chieftain. After a few tense moments, the Tusken spoke.
"He says you carry the weapon of their chieftain A'Sharad'hett, a most honorable Sand Person, and will be granted an audience," Threepio said. "And if I might add, sir, I believe you have just proven yourself a worthy warrior. I daresay he will be much more open to sharing information with you now."
"Terrific," Arisin said, extinguishing his lightsaber and replacing it on his belt. He nodded toward the camp. "Lead the way."
As they strode through the camp, Arisin could see that the huts seemed to be made from what might have been bantha ribs stretched over with some kind of hide, probably dewback, and coated in mud. The use of mud as an insulator was an old desert trick. The moisture farm he grew up on had been made in a similar, albeit more sophisticated, fashion.
The chieftain approached the largest hut in the camp, perhaps four meters wide and half that high, and gestured for him enter. Arisin complied, stooping to pass through the low door flap. Inside the structure was easily twenty degrees cooler than the outside. A salvaged glowlamp, probably stolen during a raid on a moisture farm, hung in the center of the hut and provided ample yellow light.
Threepio bent rather awkwardly to fit through the opening but nevertheless shuffled in after them, followed by two Tuskens, each armed with their wicked gaffi sticks; no doubt they were the chieftain's guards. Arisin gave them the briefest of glances before settling down cross-legged on the dirt floor. If he wanted to kill the chieftain, there wasn't a thing in the galaxy those two Tusken Raiders could do to stop him.
Once inside, they sat themselves down in a rough circle around the hut with the chieftain directly opposite Arisin, his guards flanking him on either side, and Threepio, unable to sit, simply stood behind his master. The droid's polished golden skin reflected the light from the glowlamp, casting rays all around the interior of the mud and hide dome.
The Tusken chieftain barked at Arisin. "Chieftain RR'Khur'kruh asks that you now proceed with your questions," Threepio translated.
Arisin nodded to the chieftain, acknowledging that he understood. "I know that your former chieftain, A'Sharad Hett, was once a Jedi Knight in the Old Republic, as was his father Sharad Hett before him." He allowed Threepio to catch up translating before he continued. "I also know that he managed to survive the Clone Wars and the Emperor's Purge. What I want to know is what happened next."
RR'Khur'kruh rattled off a complex string of grunts and throaty coughs. "He says Chieftain A'Sharad'hett returned to them over twenty cycles ago, telling them of a great War of the Stars. Upon his return, he took command of several local clans and began raiding settlements, avenging their encroachment on sacred Sand People land. It would seem Chieftain A'Sharad'hett was quite successful until a specific raid. He says the raiding party was stopped by a man who carried the same light weapon as the chieftain—Oh, Master Arisin, I do believe he is referencing another Jedi!" Threepio said excitedly.
Arisin nodded. "Continue, Threepio." Another Jedi? Obi-Wan?
"He says Chieftain A'Sharad'hett spoke the man's name but one time: Obi'Wan'kenobi."
So it was Kenobi. Which could only mean—"Threepio, tell them that the moisture farm he speaks of was my home and, as sole heir to the land, I give it to the clan as payment for this meeting."
Threepio translated and the Tusken nodded his head in agreement. He continued his story.
"The Chieftain says that the clans under A'Sharad'hett's leadership prospered for many cycles. He says that the clans were never without food or water and that they controlled more land than they had since before the time of the first settlers."
Arisin rubbed his temples, a gesture that Threepio uncharacteristically seemed to catch. "Master Arisin, are you quite alright, sir?"
The Sith Lord nodded. "Yes," he said. "It's just the both of you talking over one another is giving me a headache. Tusken isn't a language that's pleasing to the ear for extended periods of time." An idea flashed in his head, something from his travels early in his Sith training. "I'm going to try something I read about in Darth Revan's holocron. Tell the chieftain to continue speaking but you won't need to translate for him."
Threepio tilted his head to the side, which, by the droid's somewhat rigid design, had the amusing effect of causing his entire upper body to tilt with it. "I don't understand, sir. How will you understand what Chieftain RR'Khur'kruh is saying?"
"Just do it, Threepio."
"Of course, Master Arisin." He proceeded to pass the message on to the waiting Sand Person, who started back up with his guttural regaling of A'Sharad Hett's many exploits.
As the Tusken spoke, Arisin shut his eyes and surrounded himself with the Dark Side, letting it fill the entire hut. He envisioned a link forming between himself and the barking Tusken seated opposite him. He saw fine threads of the Force connecting the chieftain's mind with his own. With each syllable, the connection grew stronger; more and more threads joined the first. He pushed hard, forcing the threads deep into the chieftain's mind, implanting them into his language center. And suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, he understood every word the Tusken was saying as if he were speaking perfectly clear Basic.
—other clans sought to join us following that excursion, the chieftain was saying, but he would not allow it, for too large a clan and there is less to share and more to share it with. Many times we went to war and many times a chieftain fell to his weapon of light.
"Interesting," Arisin said, astounded that it had worked, "but let's now discuss what happened five cycles ago. I'd like to know of the outsiders, like myself, who came to speak with your chieftain."
Since the effect didn't go both ways, Threepio was forced to translate.
They came in a sky-hut, as you did. One was light as yourself, one dark, and one of man blood. Arisin puzzled a moment before he realized the chieftain was referring to the beings' skin colors. The dark one greeted our chieftain as one warrior to another, as one who has fought beside the other and shared much glory together. They entered this very hut and spoke until after the suns slept and the moons awoke. When Chieftain A'Sharad'hett finally emerged, he told me of his journey. He told me his fellow clanmates needed his leadership and wisdom, that they were taking him to a sacred land.
Arisin raised an eyebrow. "Sacred land? Did he name this sacred land?" If he could discover their base of operations…These new Rebels—or a continuation of the old—had been causing the Empire a lot of trouble over the last three and a half years, since they had regrouped enough to be a threat. And he knew Katarn was behind it. If he could find him and his friends, it would go a long way in ending the war for good.
He did not, the Tusken said. I was told that it was a place sacred to his former clan. He left with the others that very darktime.
Arisin stroked his chin. A place sacred to the Jedi, he thought. That could be any number of places. He would have to check the Imperial database on Coruscant to narrow down the list. After the founding of the New Order, it had absorbed the entire Jedi library, which had been considered the most comprehensive collection of knowledge in the galaxy. It would have every place the Jedi held special stored in its memory banks.
Arisin stood and brushed the dirt from his pants. "I thank you, Chieftain, for your time," he said with a polite bow. "May your new lands bear you much prosperity." Nodding to Threepio once the droid had finished translating, he exited the hut and stepped back into the oppressive heat of the Tatooine day, one step closer to locating Katarn and ending the war.
"Captain Zarin, Lord Arisin has entered hangar bay 17 and is on his way to the bridge," called a young man from his comm station in one of the many work pits lining both sides of the Star Destroyer's bridge.
Zarin strode irately to the edge of the walkway set a meter and a half above the pit and glared down at the man.
"Is that what you would consider appropriate bridge behavior, ensign?" he growled through gritted teeth. "I don't know to which ship you were previously stationed, but this is the Manticore. We do not simply shout information across the bridge in the general direction of the officer in charge!"
The ensign gulped. "Yes, sir," he said quickly. "My apologies, Captain. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't," Zarin spat. "This is the Grand Admiral's ship, not a kreffing spice freighter!"
"Yes, sir," the ensign said again, his face now drained of all color.
Captain Zarin sighed and clasped his hands behind his back as he walked back over to the viewport from where he came, stopping beside Piett, who was seated in the admiral's command chair.
"A problem?" Piett asked quietly, still gazing out at the stars, seemingly lost in thought.
"That?" the captain breathed loudly? "No, sir. Just a lack of discipline. It's becoming more and more a problem with the younger recruits. Makes you wonder if the Academy hasn't started to go soft these days."
"Hmm, indeed," the Grand Admiral said almost absent-mindedly.
"Sir, if I might ask, are you feeling well?"
Piett snapped his head up to look at Zarin? "What? Oh, yes, Captain. I'm fine, thank you," he said, adding a thin smile for good measure. "Just—tired of these Rebels. I thought for certain Endor would be the end of them. But with the loss of the Executor after the war had supposedly ended and with one of them escaping captivity in the Imperial Palace five years ago and with Moff Panaka defecting shortly after the destruction of Naboo…I thought it would all be over with the execution of Kyle Katarn and in many ways, it seemed to only be the beginning of a new Rebellion."
Captain Zarin leaned in close and asked in a hushed voice: "Do you believe there's any truth to the rumors that it was Katarn who escaped from Imperial Center?"
Piett shook his head. "No, Gil, I do not. I was witness Katarn's death myself. He died a gruesome and painful death. Whoever escaped the Palace couldn't be Katarn."
"But sir, the rumors are that Katarn is a Jedi. Certainly a Jedi could—"
"He's dead, Captain," Piett snapped. "I know what I saw. Even a Jedi couldn't have survived that."
"Yes, sir," Zarin said softly, suddenly feeling somewhat like the ensign he'd himself just berated. "If they'd only release the security footage from that day, this whole nest of rumors could be cleared up. Though I suppose High Command has its reasons for keeping them closed."
Piett narrowed his eyes. "What did you say?"
"Well, just that High Command likely has good reason for keeping the footage confidential."
"What footage?" Piett asked.
"Erm," Zarin sputtered, "the security footage from inside the Palace on the day the Rebel escaped custody. Surely some of the Palace security cams caught it on holo."
"Yes," Piett said. "Yes, they certainly must have, mustn't they?" He made a mental note to look for a copy of that record the next time he was on Coruscant.
At that exact moment, Lord Arisin strode onto the bridge, providing the perfect distraction from the disturbing thoughts that had come dangerously close to forming in the Grand Admiral's head.
The Dark Lord marched over to the admiral's chair and Piett stood and faced him. "Did you get what you were after, My Lord?"
"As much as could be expected," the Sith replied. "The chieftain confirmed that the Rebel, Jedi, and vigo were all there five years ago and that the Jedi convinced the A'Sharad Hett to leave with them."
"I don't suppose they were able to provide you with the name of the planet they left to?" Piett asked.
"No," Arisin said, shaking his head. "Hett didn't tell them; just that it was a sacred place for the Jedi."
Piett raised an eyebrow. "Well that certainly narrows it down a bit. Have you any ideas where this sacred place might be?"
"I have a few," Arisin told him. "Over the last few years, I've made it a point to study Jedi history to better understand the enemy. Off the top of my head I can recall references to several locations which a Jedi might consider sacred: Dantooine, Tython, Ossus, even Coruscant itself. The question is, which one is it?"
"Well I think it's fair to assume they aren't on Imperial Center," Zarin brought up. "Setting up base in the heart of enemy territory would be suicide."
Arisin resisted the urge to give an amused smirk; his Master and their Emperor, Darth Sidious, had done just that, built up his power and influence in the very center of the Jedi Order. But in this case, the captain had a point. "I agree, Captain. However, the Jedi cannot be counted on to do what you or I consider logically sound. We need to return to Coruscant so that I can search the Imperial database for likely planets."
Zarin gave a curt military nod. "I'll have Helm lay in a course at once, Lord Arisin."
The captain left the Sith alone with the Grand Admiral. "Your thoughts are uneasy, Admiral. You have doubts."
Piett was startled by the accusation, reminded yet again that one's thoughts and feelings were never private in the company of a Force-user. "I do, sir," he admitted. "The Rebels have been evading us for well over a decade. Even the Clone Wars only lasted three years. They're very good at what they do. Even if we do find these Jedi, which I have every confidence you will, can you say for certain that it will bring us victory?"
"I can't," Arisin admitted. "But it will hurt them. And what hurts them helps us."
"Yes, I suppose so. Still, I cannot shake the feeling that we're going about this war the wrong way."
Arisin cocked his head to the side. "And how do you propose we conduct it?"
Piett shook his head. "I haven't the faintest idea, sir. But clearly, while we hold the undeniably superior hand, we have yet to win the Sabacc pot."
Arisin didn't respond to the admiral's assessment, but it did make him think. The older man had a valid point. Even with Moff Panaka's contribution to the resistance, the Empire far outgunned the Rebellion. By all accounts, they should have won by now, particularly given how afraid sympathetic worlds were to host them after Naboo's punishment. But despite nearly being rendered extinct at Endor, the Rebels continue to fight and grow in size and power. Now, they had very nearly regained what they lost that day over the Forest Moon. They were like a virus; leave but a few individual organisms alive and they repopulate exponentially. But the problem was, the Rebellion wasn't just a coalition of individuals, it was an idea, more powerful than the sum of its parts. As long as the idea existed, so too did the organization. It was the same reason the Sith had never truly gone extinct over the millennia. All it took was a single individual to keep the idea alive and the Sith lived and ultimately triumphed. So would the Rebels if they were allowed.
He gave the admiral a nod and departed from the bridge. He suddenly found himself with a lot to meditate about.
"So when are you going to tell me why we're here?" Leia stared out the forward viewport of the Jade Sabre at the unfamiliar star system. Wherever here is, she added silently.
"And how many times am I going to have to tell you it's a surprise?" Mara said over her shoulder.
"The last time you decided to surprise me, there was an angry gundark trapped in the cargo hold," Leia shot back. "You'll excuse me if I'm somewhat wary of your surprises."
The memory brought a smile to the face of the fiery-haired woman at the ship's controls. "Oh yeah," she said, giving a laugh. "That one was pretty funny."
Leia sneered. "I'm so glad you thought so. Of course, you weren't the one who slipped in its droppings as you were trying to get away from it."
Mara laughed again. "No, I surely wasn't. That was all you, Princess."
"You know those stains never came out," Leia said, wrinkling her nose as she recalled the unpleasant smell that had been permanently affixed to her favorite jacket.
Mara shrugged. "It gave you character. Besides, it's not like it hurt you."
Leia rolled her eyes. In the last five years, she and her fellow Emperor's Hand had become good friends, frequently pairing up on assignments. Their track record was long and impressive by anyone's standards, which is likely the only reason the Emperor tolerated their friendship.
"Don't worry," Mara assured her. "This is nothing like that. You'll actually like this one."
"Uh-huh," Leia said, obviously unconvinced. "Will I be liking it sometime soon?"
Mara checked her data screen. "As a matter of fact, you will." She flipped a switch and transferred the small screen to the main viewer, which took up the whole viewport. The image resolved itself into that of a grainy blue/green marble.
No, Leia thought. It's a planet. A strangely familiar planet, in fact.
As Mara added more and more filters to the feed, the image sharpened and Leia's breath caught in her throat.
"Mara, is that—?"
"Alderaan," Mara confirmed with a huge grin plastered across her face. "As it appeared about, oh say, twelve years ago, give or take a few months."
Leia was almost rendered speechless. "But how?" is all she managed to spit out, before adding: "This is a live feed."
Mara nodded. "Direct feed from the ship's long-range optical telescope. We are currently parked in the Kaled system approximately twelve light-years from the Alderaan system. The light we're seeing is over a decade old; we're seeing it as it looked a couple of years before it was destroyed." She scoffed. "Took the computers ages to work out the math to figure out exactly when and where we needed to be to catch it in a position where it would be visible. We've got a few hours before it moves out of sight."
"Mara," Leia started, her voice tense with choked back tears. "It's beautiful. Thank you for this." She watched as the peaceful planet slowly rotated on the screen; her beloved Alderaan, still intact, before Tarkin had annihilated it with the first Death Star as she was forced to watch. She was literally staring into the past, watching it play out before her like a holodrama. Only this was real. "Nine years," she said, suddenly breaking the silence that had developed on the bridge. "It's been gone for nine years."
The other woman nodded but didn't say anything.
"I can still feel Vader's hand on my shoulder," she said, absently rubbing at the spot through her jacket. "He stood there and held me in place, forced me to watch." She gave a slight sniffle. "I remember watching as it just hung there, peaceful, just like now, completely oblivious to what was about to happen. Not that they could have done anything about it." She sighed as she replayed the painful memory in her mind. "Tarkin gave the order and that was that." She turned to Mara, who was watching her intently. "You know, I was actually able to find out the name of the man who fired the superlaser. I committed his full title to memory: Master Chief Petty Officer Tenn Graneet. He died when the Death Star exploded. I wonder how he felt, pulling a lever and ending billions of lives. I try to tell myself that it was Tarkin's order, that he was just doing as he was told and that if he didn't do it, someone else would have."
"Does that help?" Mara asked. "Telling yourself he was just following orders?"
Leia shrugged. "Does it ease the pain? No, not really. But does it help me to understand and possibly even forgive him? A little bit. We're all cogs in a greater machine. We've all helped cause death. Maybe not all of us have personally pulled the trigger, but we played our part. I have ordered the deaths of countless Imperials and sent countless more 'freedom fighters' off into battles knowing full well that they wouldn't be coming back. We all do what we believe to be right at the time. I like to believe that Graneet pulled that lever believing with all of his heart that it was the right thing to do."
Mara shook her head. "That's mighty big of you. I don't think I'd be nearly so understanding about it."
Leia smiled. "I've had a while to think about it. Besides, everyone involved died when the station was destroyed. I have no one left to be angry at."
"That's very enlightened of you. Of course, a normal person would say the whole Empire is to blame and that the Emperor commissioned the weapon in the first place."
Leia raised and eyebrow. "Do you want me to be angry at the Emperor?"
"No," Mara answered quickly. "It's just that I think you've convinced yourself that you're fine when you aren't. You'll only be fine once you realize you'll never be fine."
Leia scoffed. "Now who's the enlightened one?"
The other woman held up her hands defensively. "Hey, I'm just telling you how it is. Even without the Force, I could tell you didn't really buy all that dianoga juice you just served me. You want to, but you can't. And that's fine. You want to delude yourself, be my guest. But you lost your planet and now you work for the guys who did it. It's okay to not be okay about that. You can be loyal to the Emperor and still feel mad."
"What about you?" Leia asked, catching Mara off-guard.
"What? What about me?"
"The Emperor stole you from your family when you were a child, didn't he? Do you still feel angry about that?"
"Well, no," Mara said defensively. "I have a better life now than I ever could have with my real family. I've made peace with what he did."
"Exactly," Leia said. "Something awful resulted in something better and you used it as justification. It's called making fertilizer out of bantha dung."
"Yeah, well, all I'm saying is all the bantha dung in the galaxy can't compare to losing a planet."
Leia gave a patient smile. "Mara, I appreciate your concern," she said, giving the same speech she'd given countless times whenever someone would express their sympathies. "I'm alright. I promise."
The other woman nodded. "Hey, did you want to record this or something?" she asked, pointing over her shoulder at the still rotating planet on the display. "We've still got a few more hours 'til we lose the picture."
Leia watched the planet—her planet—spin lazily on the screen. "No," she said after a moment. "Let's catch the repeat show next year."
Mara cracked a grin. "I think we can do that."
"Let's get back to Coruscant. I'm a little anxious for an assignment."
"Or the Emperor's next pearl of wisdom, perhaps?" Mara said as she plugged their course into the computer. "Anyone ever tell you you're a bit of an over-achiever? You make the rest of us look bad."
"Hey," Leia held up her hands in mock defense. "No one's stopping you from advancing your studies."
"Yeah, yeah," Mara said as she pulled back the drive levers, sending the ship leaping into hyperspace.
The Manticore erupted out of hyperspace, the glittering jewel of Coruscant rushing to fill the forward viewscreens. Being as big as they were, the ship was forced to exit hyperspace nearly twice as far out as ordinary civilian vessels so as to avoid the busy lines of traffic swarming all over the planet's upper atmosphere.
A dark gray shuttle resembling a Lambda dropped from one of the belly hangars of the enormous ship and rocketed toward the city-planet.
"Lord Arisin has cleared the hangar and begun his approach to the planet, sir."
Captain Zarin nodded. "Thank you, Jaims." He turned to the Grand Admiral standing beside him. "Will you be going planetside, sir?"
"Hmm?" Piett turned to address the captain. "Oh, no. No, I don't think I will. Lord Arisin will want the Manticore ready for departure the moment he finds what he's looking for. In fact, I believe I shall spend this momentary break from active duty to catch up on some neglected reports. Good day, Captain. You have the bridge."
Zarin nodded and watched as the Grand Admiral left. He couldn't shake the feeling that the Admiral was acting a little off lately.
Piett entered his quarters, sealing the door so as not to be disturbed. The Admiral's quarters resembled a miniature version of the main bridge, with display monitors set up around the room, constantly feeding the Admiral the same information as the bridge feed. He gave the screens a habitual once over then turned to sit at his personal computer station. Within moments he was signed into the Imperial Palace's mainframe. He punched in a command to connect with an organic operator.
A middle-aged man appeared on the screen. "Good day to you, sir. I am Mondo Fain. How may I direct you?"
"This is Grand Admiral Firmus Piett, authorization Bacta-seven-Isk-Aurek-nine. I'd like you to patch me through to the security feed library for the detention area."
"Certainly, Admiral," Mondo said brightly. "Enjoy the rest of your day!"
Piett was given access to the Palace security feed and he input the date of the Rebel escape.
What are you doing, Firmus? he asked himself. You're questioning not only the Emperor but your own eyes. You watched him die; his lungs liquefied and spilled out onto the floor. He's dead. You know he is.
The Admiral sighed. "This is ridiculous," he said aloud. "He's dead. Accept it and move on." Without another thought, he disconnected his terminal and got started on his overdue reports.
"And you're quite certain he was referencing someplace important to the Jedi?" The Emperor was seated behind his exquisite roqwood desk, his head resting in one hand as a finger tapped impatiently at his temple. His hood was down today, as it had been so frequently since Ruusan. Indeed, he still looked much as he had during the Clone Wars nearly three decades before. Though he noted that the healing effects of the nexus were fading somewhat. In all likelihood, he would eventually revert to his former grotesque appearance given enough time. Though he expected the process would take years more. Plenty of time to divine the secrets of the Force that would allow him to maintain a youthful façade indefinitely. He still maintained hope that he and his apprentice would one day unlock the secrets his master, Darth Plagueis, had taken with him to the grave.
"Oh, yes, Your Eminence," See-Threepio answered before Darth Arisin could respond. "Chieftain RR'Khur'kruh left little room for interpret—"
"Yes, Master," Arisin said, cutting the droid off. "The only question is which sacred place Hett spoke of. The Jedi seem to have practically deified half the planets and moons they came across from one side of the galaxy to the other. There are nexuses and special crystals and Force-sensitive caves like the one I experienced on Dagobah. They seemed to revere everything related to the Force."
Sidious eyed his apprentice a moment before answering. "Have you consulted the Force for your answer?" he asked, allowing more than a hint of edge to creep into his tone. After five years, he was growing increasingly frustrated with Lord Arisin's inability to locate the rebel Jedi.
Arisin nodded. "It hasn't provided any answers thus far, Master," he replied, equally frustrated. "I believe the Jedi may be willfully blocking my ability to locate them through the Force. It could be a new ability they've learned or it could signify an imminent power shift. I'm uncertain what to make of it."
The elder Sith Master narrowed his yellow eyes. "Then you must use other means to detect them," he said. "Do not attempt to locate them directly. Do you recall how your sister and Mara Jade managed to uncover Ragnor Breyac's hidden safehouse despite the sensor-disrupting ore that impregnated the entire valley?"
Arisin thought a moment then cocked an eyebrow. "They searched for what they couldn't see. They mapped what they could, dismissed it, and looked in their sensors' blind spots." It all made perfect sense now. "You're saying I should look precisely where the Force tells me the least."
"Precisely," the Emperor echoed with a nod. "Map the negative space and you will find where the Jedi have holed up. Have you narrowed your list of suspect worlds?" he asked.
"I think so," Arisin said with a nod. "Though I'll review the database again to be certain." He removed a small datapad from his utility belt and aimed it at the desk holoprojector. An image burst to life above the polished wood desktop.
"Illum, Dantooine, Ossus, Tython," the Emperor read aloud. "You certainly have done your research, Apprentice. Tython is the original home of the Jedi Order, of Force manipulation altogether. Its Jedi history stretched back millennia before the foundation of the Republic. I would say that it bears further attention. However, you would be safe to remove Illum," he said, gesturing at the name on the list. "I had all of those crystal caves destroyed long ago." He paused to peruse the rest of the list. "Coruscant?" he asked incredulously. "You suspect they might be here?"
Arisin shrugged. "Coruscant was the heart of the Jedi Order for most of its life," he said. "The Temple was home to the Order for thousands of years, built atop a Force nexus. It's got to be at the top of their list of desired locations."
"But could the Jedi operate right here under our collective noses without us taking note?" Palpatine asked.
"You did," Arisin pointed out. "For decades."
Sidious smirked. "A fair point, Lord Arisin. A fair point, indeed. But the Jedi were ignorant to the survival of the Sith. The Dark Side grew gradually in strength, dimming the Jedi's senses. I don't believe they could be here without us sensing their presence."
Arisin gave a slight nod. "I just want to be thorough, Master. They are desperate, more so than ever before. We can't afford to discount any possibility at this point."
The Emperor nodded. "A wise decision, to be sure." He deactivated the holoprojector. "You have my full confidence, Lord Arisin. The Force tells me that you will find them sooner or later; and I sense it will be much sooner than later. Much sooner."
Arisin cocked an eyebrow. "Have you had a premonition?" he asked.
"No," Palpatine said with a shake of the head. "Like you, I find the Force to be somewhat muddied of late. But I have faith in our combined abilities and the unlimited resources of the Empire." He gave his apprentice a hard stare. "They won't evade us for long. You will find them." There was a distinct and unspoken, "Or else" attached to the statement.
Arisin bowed. "Yes, Master. Of course." He turned sharply on his heel, his heavy cloak flaring out behind him, and marched out of the opulent office. Threepio trailed close behind, his servos whining softly with every step.
Kyle Katarn was shirtless, with sweat rolling freely down his back and dripping from the tip of his nose. His eyes were closed and he held a lightsaber, its amber blade humming loudly in the high humidity. Once, the device had felt alien in his hand, but now it acted as an extension of his arm and he couldn't imagine his life without it.
"Feel, don't see," a man instructed. He was dressed in layered desert garb despite the suffocating heat. Intricate tribal tattoos adorned his face. He'd began every lesson of the past five years with that same instruction.
"Your senses can be fooled," said another man. He was middle-aged, dark-skinned, and carried and unlit lightsaber of his own. "You cannot always trust them."
"I will teach you how to fool those senses," proclaimed the tattooed man.
"And I shall teach you how to see through them," the other added.
Kyle nodded. "I'm ready, Masters." He immersed himself in the Force, allowing it to wash over him like a cool purifying bath. He let it seep into every pore, every follicle, and every crease. Extending his sphere of awareness, he sensed his masters, Jedi Master Qu Rahn and Jedi Knight A'Sharad Hett, standing just meters away. He sensed them so clearly that he may as well have been looking directly at them. He expanded his sphere even further and took in their ship, inside which he sensed former head of Black Sun Ragnor Breyac, who exuded waves of impatience and anxiety. Even after five years, he was still looking over his shoulder, just waiting for a poison dart or an assassin's blade. He briefly touched the minds of the hundreds of other Rebels in the area. The overall sense from them was apprehension and constant fear of discovery by the Empire.
Without warning, Master Hett's presence in the Force shifted, began to waver, and then disappeared altogether. Even being prepared for it, Kyle gave an involuntary twitch when Hett vanished from the Force. Eyes still closed, Kyle awaited instruction.
"Open your eyes, Kyle," Master Hett's voice invaded his thoughts; the command seemed to have been spoken both aloud and through the Force directly into Kyle's mind.
Kyle did as he was told. He opened his eyes and gave a little start to see Master Qu Rahn standing alone. "But—," he began. Then Hett allowed his presence to flash, briefly, before disappearing again. If the Force was to be believed, the former Tusken chieftain was still standing directly in front of Kyle.
Qu Rahn offered him a mischievous grin. "We warned you, Kyle. Your senses can be fooled. Don't trust them." He lit his lightsaber, its golden blade humming at a slightly deeper pitch than Kyle's was. Slowly, he began to twirl it, producing a rhythmic pulsating hum. "Concentrate on the sound of the lightsaber as it spins," he said. "Let it quiet your thoughts, give you focus."
Kyle closed his eyes again and let the pulsing hum wash over him and purge his mind of all errant thoughts.
"Now envision your surroundings," Qu Rahn instructed. "Really get a sense for them. Break them down into their base elements. Take note of minute changes in air density, ambient temperature, even ground density. If you find yourself unable to sense your opponent visually or through the Force, there are several alternate ways you can locate them. They're a bit unorthodox, but they may just save your life.
"Even someone capable of hiding with the Force displaces the air," he went on. "They exist in three dimensions. They have volume. Sense the difference."
Kyle nodded and focused on the area immediately surrounding him, blanketing it in the Force like a detailed sensor sweep. He got a baseline feel for how the air was flowing around him, how it should feel, and then began searching for anomalies. As his focus swept across where he knew Hett to be standing, he suddenly got a sense of slight turbulence, tiny eddies of air swirling around a solid, albeit invisible, object.
Qu Rahn nodded. "Very good." He turned to where his fellow Jedi stood and nodded. "Hett," he said.
Suddenly the sense of a solid object vanished. Kyle cocked his head to the side.
"A clever enemy can anticipate this," Qu Rahn explained. "He can use the Force to artificially smooth the currents, to compensate for his displacement. In these instances, you must be even more creative.
"Here, you have several options. You can attempt to locate him by sensing his body temperature, something much easier to do in colder weather," he added. "You can attempt to detect the minute electrical impulse his muscles and brain give off, though this is extraordinarily difficult to accomplish and not without serious margin for error. You can even try to sense the tiny density change in the ground beneath his feet." He paused to allow Kyle to try them all. When Kyle shook his head, frustrated, Qu Rahn offered him a poodoo-eating grin. "But those, too, can be compensated for."
"So how do I compensate for that?" Kyle asked, aggravated.
A green blade erupted at Kyle's throat and a coarse voice spoke so close that he could feel breath on his ear. "You don't," Hett said, stepping around from behind Kyle, who hadn't sensed that the Jedi had moved.
Kyle deactivated his lightsaber. "Then what was the point of this? This was just a waste of time!"
"To teach you that no-win situations do exist," Hett explained, extinguishing his lightsaber and replacing it on his belt. He then removed a small metal sphere from a belt pouch and tossed it to Kyle. "But you don't need to know exactly where someone is to kill them with one of those," he said with a nod to the device. "If they're within ten meters, a thermal detonator'll vape them instantly."
"Uh, thanks," Kyle said, unsure whether or not to take Hett seriously. He looked to Qu Rahn, who just stared back stone-faced.
"No-win for you doesn't necessarily mean they win," Hett told him. "Theses are desperate times, Kyle. Even more so than ever if your account of Ruusan was accurate."
"It was," Qu Rahn said gravely.
Hett nodded and continued. "We cannot use the traditional styles of the Jedi. Those ways have failed us."
"Some of us have failed them," the Jedi Master said.
"We each walk our own path," Hett replied sharply. "Jedi teachings are rigid. They don't allow for the needs of the individual."
"Because the Jedi teach you to let go of the individual and embrace the whole," Qu Rahn fired back.
Hett turned to face him. "That philosophy created Darth Vader and brought ruin to the Republic and the Jedi," he argued. "The teachings were flawed."
Qu Rahn nodded. "Conceded," he said. "But flawed teachings can be corrected. You don't need to throw them out completely. We've been over this, A'Sharad," the Jedi Master said forcefully.
The former Tusken scoffed and turned back to Kyle. "We can fix them after we've beaten the Sith," he spat. "Until then, we train to win."
"You risk the Dark Side," Qu Rahn cautioned. He and Hett had had this debate many times over the years as they decided how best to proceed with Kyle's training.
"History has shown us that our fear of the Dark Side inevitably leads to our destruction at its hands," Hett fired back. "We should incorporate the enemy's own weapons into our arsenal. It's the only way."
At this point Kyle felt compelled to speak. "Master Hett, are you suggesting we actually use the Dark Side?"
"The Force is not a two-sided coin split evenly down the center as Light and Dark, Kyle," the tattooed Jedi explained. "We all have the potential for darkness within us. But the Jedi teach us to suppress that darkness. And under ordinary circumstances, it is for the best. But these are extraordinary times. We cannot restrict ourselves in the face of the Sith threat. We are willfully denying ourselves access powers that can help us defeat the Emperor and Skywalker."
"And we could lose ourselves in the process, A'Sharad!" Qu Rahn pressed. "There is a reason those teachings were forbidden."
"I have touched the Dark Side, Qu Rahn," Hett told the other Jedi. "There is so much power there. We are fools for ignoring it for so long, especially when faced with an enemy as terrible as the Sith."
"I cannot condone this," Qu Rahn said defiantly. "The risk is too great."
"What about the risk if we don't?" This time it was Kyle who spoke up.
Hett said nothing but raised an eyebrow at Qu Rahn.
"Isn't this exactly the sort of no-win situation you've just shown me? The Dark Side is the thermal detonator," he said. "We may have to destroy ourselves in the process, but if we take out the Sith, it would all have been worth it."
Qu Rahn glared at Hett. Finally he said, "I hope you know what you're doing," and retreated into the ship, leaving Hett and Kyle in silence.