For nearly as long as the recorders had paid any attention to Voss, the castle had been a puzzling ruin. As massive as it was, it wasn't much of a fortification. The interior passages led to only a few large rooms. There was hardly anything but the barest parapet on the roof that would do for defensive ramparts. Whether it had been a cathedral for the consummation of forgotten Voss rituals, or a warlord's country home, the ensuing millennia had consigned the matter to speculation and myth. Here in this far-flung corner of a lesser-known world, it had primarily been used as a hunting lodge during the golden age of the Old Republic. Falling into disuse ever since, it had of late become a private retreat of the Lord who had been given this keep as a gift for his service to the Galactic Empire.
The shiny stones had been laid by ancient artisans in the age of muscle and beast. They had broken, cut, and polished the obsidian blocks with primitive tools, piling them with agonizing effort into the structure that now perched at the top of the mountain. Its four massive spires at each corner extended far into the sky, touching the edge of the clouds. Any modern Imperial passing through the hand-carved, slightly uneven stone arches could hardly fathom the uncanny difficulty this effort would had been without droids and repulsorlifts. It must have taken them several lifetimes to build it, was Jafan's occasional thought.
The corridors resolved into a single great hallway that led toward the private quarters of the Lord of the Keep at the top of the structure. Periodically spaced cutouts along the outer walls allowed some some sunlight to dribble in, rippling across the smooth stone, pushing away some of the darkness. On the inner walls were grooves which were cut for torches which would have been fashioned with wood, cloth, and pitch. Now those grooves were retro-fitted with smooth, Imperial Navy plasma torches, giving off an even, pallid glow that dimly lit Jafan's path.
The Centopt walked along the corridor, his white breastplate gleaming in the darkness. The orange chevron on his right shoulder pad, visible as a mark of his rank, was moving fluidly in the reflections on the shiny volcanic glass. As Centopt of the garrison, he had made this morning trek many times accompanying Captain Tiehel. The polished black stones with rivulets of light pooling on their surface had reminded him of the armored visage of Lord Vader. It only seemed appropriate for this place to be his possession.
Vader himself had often said very little during these morning operation reports as Jafan read off mundane rosters and updates on provisions and supplies. Behind the mask, the Dark Lord was mostly silent, hardly interested in the quotidian matters of the garrison, normally dismissing Jafan or Tiehel peremptorily if the report lasted near a full minute. At first, during these meetings, Jafan had been terrified; that temper was well known. But Vader betrayed none of that in Jafan's presence, and seemed often indifferent to his company. A Centopt was feared among his men as an experienced warrior who had been bloodied in battle, proving his worth to lead a century of stormtroopers. To the Moffs, Lords, and officer elite of the Empire, troopers were still anonymous servants, and Jafan soon came to sense that even a Centopt was well below an Imperial Lord's level of concern.
Jafan's mind went to the flurry of activity over the previous day. The officers were gone now. Captain Tiehel had left with most of the garrison, and Jafan was now the senior ranking member of the command structure, as well as the non-commissioned officer in charge of the troop.
As most of the garrison had loaded up into the Tydirium shuttles, the remainers had watched while in formation below, standing at attention with the blue-and-tan colors of the post. All parties were armed. There was a fear all around that one side may take shots at the other. In the end, the two shuttles departed without incident, even while the cannons were armed and facing their rear as they grew smaller in the sky. Jafan's men had stood not far from the anti-ship turrets which were also armed and primed. When the craft were fully out of sight, they felt the tension in their backs slightly relax. Jafan put them at ease and dismissed them then. Just 32 troopers, including a few engineers, were all who were left. Just over 30 men out of a garrison that was once nearly 200 at full strength.
The son of Vader arrived soon after as expected. Jafan and the troop had stood in formation and at attention with the colors once more to receive him when his shuttle landed. The Rebel wore a simple, grey and black robe and raised his hands as he came down the ramp to show he was not hostile. He addressed the assembled garrison briefly, quickly reassuring them that they would still be paid as a garrison and face no fight from himself or Lando's crew. After a few quick formalities, he moved into the castle with droids and a few followers assisting him. He'd asked the Centopt to come see him first thing the next morning. He specified one other request: that the men keep their helmets off when they were inside the perimeter when they weren't at combat readiness. He said he considered the routine of stormtroopers being permanently masked to be a sign of Imperial intimidation.
Jafan now felt odd to be wearing his cloth garrison cap this way, exposing his face and head while also wearing his full duty armor. The mask allowed a trooper to hide his expressions, and Jafan found himself reaching back to discipline learned in boot camp to maintain an expressionless, unfocused gaze as he readied himself for an audience with his superior. The helmet was one of the few sanctums afforded to an Imperial trooper. One could wear an expression of boredom, amusement, or annoyance behind the mask. None of which would ever be tolerated if seen openly.
Still, troopers had a culture of complaining, and stormtrooper helmets were a common subject. The HUD⁴ never seemed to work as well as it should, never adjusting properly to head or eye positioning without continuous tweaking of the settings. Incorrectly adjusting the head straps could lead to twisting against the scalp, leaving sweaty sores behind. The re-breather, when connected, had an artificial taste that was occasionally unpleasant, and without it, one's mouth often went dry after tasting one's own spit for an extended time.
Jafan entered the corridor to the private quarters with his helmet clipped against his web belt, bouncing against his lower left hip armor in a rhythm as he walked, countering the weight of the blaster pistol bouncing against his right hip. He paused and shifted the bandoleer with the officer's bantha-leather case containing the daily roster between his right and left shoulder, attempting to find a more comfortable balance for moving with his kit in this unfamiliar configuration.
Per the status of his position as Centopt, Jafan was always the only enlisted trooper allowed to enter the private quarters at the end of the Great Hall. Vader, unique among the Imperial elite, had disdained having guards near his person. There were legends that there were Jedi in hiding, wanting revenge for the destruction of their cult. Vader was clearly a desired target of terrorist assassins from the Rebellion. That was to say nothing of the unmentionable reality that the Empire thrived on ambitious Moffs, any of whom might well have seen an advantage in the elimination of the Emperor's favorite.
Jafan had broached the subject on two occasions that a post of guards outside the private quarters were the very minimum of security which protocol demanded. Both times Vader deigned to speak, which was rare enough, exclaiming in his clipped and unambiguous manner, "that will not be necessary, Centopt." Both times, Vader spoke the same words; Jafan knew better than to mention it again.
The son of Vader had also seemed initially indifferent to a trooper presence, not surprisingly, as the nature of the troopers so formerly loyal to the Empire wouldn't wisely be trusted by a Rebel usurper either. Jafan clouded any contemplation of the politics so as not to distract himself. Duty was his singular focus; the internecine disputes of which Lords had jockeyed for power were best kept far away from his mind.
Most of the retinue that the Jedi had brought with him had shuffled back out of the castle in the morning. They were going back and forth, preparing to leave with the shuttle that had brought him, apparently letting Skywalker get on with whatever business he had come here to accomplish.
Just outside the private quarters, the last of the Jedi's group, the odd alien pilot with large, inky-black eyes and multiple folds in its face was sitting on a stool and re-assembling a blaster. Jafan hesitated. Was he on guard duty? Was this creature some kind of superior officer?
Jafan stiffened himself and clicked his heels. "Centopt with dailies... Sir!" The alien looked up, as it was more than a good head shorter than even a short human, and with the large eyes blinked rapidly. It mumbled something unintelligible. A blue and white astromech droid rolled from the entrance of the private quarters and into view. It made the usual mechanical chirps and whistles inherent to such devices. Jafan still stood at attention, the moment hanging in the air as he felt his stormtrooper blood begin to warm in annoyance. He was dealing with two creatures whose countenance he could not distinguish between mocking and incomprehension.
A voice echoed from around the corner in the private quarters with the plummy metallic precision of a protocol droid. Two glowing eyes on a gold frame came into view. "Centopt of the garrison? Please come in, Sir! The Commander has been finishing Jedi exercise before your meeting."
Jafan bowed slightly at the alien which still stared at him with blank, inky eyes. The astromech rolled ahead, chirping, followed by the protocol droid, waving its arms and announcing that the Centopt had arrived.
He entered the chamber as he had done many times before. The shutters over the windows in Vader's time offered only oblique sunlight into this space. Vader preferred darkness. The former Lord's massive meditation chamber was in the center of the room. Perhaps the low light was more amenable to the Vader's reputedly fragile organic body during times when his mask was removed. Things were different now. There was a sudden contrast in leaving the enveloping blackness of the hallway, entering the personal chambers suffused with natural light pouring in from the expansive windows that lined the far wall, viewing out toward the broad expanse of snow-capped mountains of Voss.
The meditation chamber still sat in the center of the room. Black metal was now haloed with natural light. It was open, and it appeared that the Son of Vader had placed his baggage there. The inheritor seemed to have set up a minimal amount of possessions; an ascetic touch familiar to a soldier, as well as perhaps a mystic, both of which, Jafan reminded himself this strange son reputedly was.
Vader had also kept the quarters rather stark. There were storage lockers against the walls which were almost always closed when Jafan had seen them. They were open now. Brightly colored, seemingly jeweled boxes maybe a half-meter in square dimensions were visible within them, arranged in neat rows on shelves from the floor to above head-height. The protocol droid returned to walking along the shelves, picking up one of the cubes, holding it and scanning it closely with a hand-held device. At the far end of the lockers, there was a mounted row of what must have been dozens of hand-sized metallic cylinders. Jafan speculated they must have been lightsabers.
Movement drew the attention of the Centopt. The Son of Vader, with an un-military mop of shaggy light blonde hair, had come from around a corner at the bottom of the meditation chamber, panting slightly. Morning physical training exercises, as soldiers will do, Jafan thought to himself. The young man knelt, pulling a clean undershirt and taupe military jerkin from a case inside the open chamber.
The young man had his back to Jafan as he removed the light gray exercise shirt over his head. Jafan noticed the reddish, branching marks of melted skin on his back; the flesh had deformed in places into ferocious, mottled scars. There were rumors of what had happened on the Death Star. Vancil relayed from the comm chatter that the Emperor himself had used his sorcery to fire lightning into the body of the Rebel, nearly killing him.
Jafan took a breath. He had seen such burns on the bodies of casualties of combat; souvenirs woven into flesh where plasma, fire, and burning cinders had done their work. This young man, just barely more than a boy, had faced down the Emperor — who had done this.
The Son of Vader turned and spoke. "The morning reports, I take it, Centopt?" He still hadn't met Jafan's gaze, as he was buttoning the taupe jacket, pulling up a pistol belt from the floor, notably with a lightsaber hilt as the only weapon.
"Yes, my Lord!" Jafan gave a smart salute.
A wry smile emerged from underneath a serious expression. "At ease, Centopt, at ease… and please… no title here." He spoke relatively softly. "My rank is Commander. Commander Skywalker."
"Very good… Commander… Sir!" Jafan attempted to stand at ease, which his training resisted. He felt conspicuous, standing at slight parade rest, looking exactly like someone ordered to be at ease.
The structure of Vader's meditation chamber could be sealed by an upper shell which lowered from the ceiling, enclosing the structure like a giant black egg. Skywalker sat on the edge of the meditation chamber, sitting on one of the dipping ends of the jaggedly-spaced, tooth-like seal. He rested his chin in his gloved hand. Jafan brought up the different screens from his bag, clearing his throat as he readied himself to read the reports aloud.
The blue astromech droid delivered a tray with metal bowls and cups on them. Skywalker poured a cup of steaming liquid. He took a sip and now met Jafan's eyes. "A tea made from a ground root from Balmorra. It was quite popular in the outer systems, I understand. Quite potent if you'd care for any?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I am fully refreshed, sir." He suffered an instant panic of regret. Would it be rude to turn down the hostility of a new Lord?
"Jafan... please, feel free to truly be at ease. We can be more informal here. I think you will find I am not my father." Jafan smiled involuntarily. At the mention of this unspoken participant in their interaction, a tension was truly eased between the men. Skywalker spoke again.
"We don't have to get to all the details of the garrison just yet. You are now the senior officer in the camp now? Are you finding yourself in need of anything for this sudden promotion?"
Jafan adjusted his shoulders slightly, taking a moment before he replied.
"Non-commissioned officer of course, Commander. I'm a senior troop leader, and I can command men, not logistics. The datawork is, I'm afraid, something I'm only passably familiar with, Sir."
Skywalker nodded and exhaled.
"Well, as it is, there isn't much of a bureaucracy operating, anyway." He looked to the wall of cabinets with their multi-colored cubes. "Those who once lead, now are leashed; those learned to follow will now lead."
Skywalker looked back at Jafan while holding both hands on the cup. "Barsen'thor Aurantus said that. Old Jedi prophecies." Skywalker had a faraway look. "How are you fixed for power?"
"We have one generator that is powered by a thermal link into the planet's magma from hitting a volcanic chamber at an angle, and that is dedicated entirely to the shield above, keeping command operations online, as well as the castle's power. We have three fusion cores for power of the base quarters, but… two of them are offline, just used for parts. That leaves us with one core which powers our use of housing facilities, including medical and cooking fuel, and weapons charges. We don't have enough to regularly refresh any of the plasma cores of the smaller equipment, so we ration refueling from the main core. We have two scout walkers, two TIE fighters, all which remain only on standby power. We have several loader droids and astromech droids which are normally kept off, or we trickle charge them from solar collectors. We also employ the Voss villagers for much labor, trade them credits or spare parts. We also take turns in manual labor. Keeps the men occupied, Commander. Or, at least we have done. We may have difficulty with a smaller garrison. The food and ammunition stores are both in surplus with the recent desertions."
Skywalker wandered over to the large window, looking down over the valley. The details seemed to be well beyond what he was concerned with now.
"Thank you, Centopt. So… you remain fairly un-mechanized. The patrols… I thought I heard tauntauns yesterday when we landed? Were they?"
The Centopt, who felt like he perhaps was boring his commander, now nodded.
"They are. We have 19 tauntauns, not including three foals. We had more than 30 up until last year, but there was a sickness that went through them."
"Ah, that's too bad. I worked with tauntauns. Very sweet creatures." Skywalker's gaze drifted. "On Hoth… we used quite a few. I've seen the legends that have been printed since assumed they were native to the planet, but in fact we brought them with us. They had a hard time adjusting to that level of cold, and we were quite explicit about that, but written records always get exaggerated. Almost none of them lasted long when they were exposed." Skywalker paused, looking to the horizon, wincing slightly. "I wouldn't mind taking one of them out myself, if that's possible."
"Of course, Sir. We have mounted patrols on the tauntauns. They've been reduced to two mounted men at the north and two at the south of the base, rotating to cover more ground, on duty every six hours."
The Centopt's nerves kept prompting him to return to a recitation of stats for the sake of Imperial efficiency. Skywalker's mind was still elsewhere. He looked over the valley, his cheek seemed to pulse as he contemplated something other than operational statistics. He turned back to Jafan. His gloved hand was holding aloft the steaming cup. He swept his other hand in a gesture towards the cabinets.
"The quote from the old Jedi I mentioned. It comes from there. Those are Jedi holocrons. Sith holocrons as well. Vader was collecting them from across the galaxy. Bringing them here. This is one of the main reasons I came here to claim this place. Are you familiar with what holocrons are?"
"Cannot say that I am, Sir."
Skywalker inhaled, gazing along the wall. "Well, I wasn't much, either. These small boxes each contain recordings of masters of the Force. It is said that they are each a map of an individual mind. They present their recordings to the user as a hologram of the master they have recorded, long after they have become one with the Force. Vader had sent out and searched the galaxy for as many of these as could be found at the end of the Jedi era."
Skywalker paused and sipped his tea. He inhaled the steam over the cup and continued.
"For the eons that the Jedi were in the galaxy, this is all that is left of their ways. Vader kept different properties. He spent time on Coruscant or Mustafar. But he kept coming here, so far from the core of the galaxy. Maybe to keep this collection obscure from the rest of the Empire. Anyway, he must have had his own reasons. He opened his personal keys to all these places and handed them to me in… those last moments. It must have been important. He never stopped his study of the Force."
Jafan had always been curious about the Force, and in his own mind was rousing an interest in the holocrons. He had never known what, exactly, Vader had coveted so secretly here all these years. Now, other questions bubbled to his mind he had never allowed himself to contemplate. He could see the Commander was truly not interested in the details of the report. Attempting to meet the young Jedi's casual demeanor, he found himself making conversation.
"The Force… they said, Commander, that the Jedi were forbidden knowledge. Force knowledge was banned as heresy in my lifetime. A kind of witchcraft, we were told, that the Empire had put an end to."
Skywalker sipped the tea, but didn't turn away from the wall. "They said that, I'm sure. I had never heard of Jedi until I was already nearly grown, and I found that Va — my father — had been one of the last of the Jedi during the Clone Wars."
He was serious now.
"I've felt the Force, and all its power, dark and light, and it has been my ally. It's not trickery. You saw the scars, I assume?"
"Sir?"
"I was changing my shirt when you walked in the room. I had been exercising this morning. I'm sure you saw the scars on my back. Someone who knew how to use the Force as a weapon did that."
Jafan nodded soberly. Fellow soldiers, they shared the brotherhood of knowing first hand what fire will do when carving into flesh. "Yes, Commander," he said, his voice trailing off quietly.
Skywalker went on, looking back at the holocrons.
"I don't know whether I should remove these to somewhere safer. It's also unclear to me whether holocrons can be copied. That is part of the purpose of the droid such as Threepio here, translating the holocron markings."
The golden droid turned at the mention of its name. Seeing that his master was not vying for his attention, he turned back to his work, scanning the holocron with a hand-held device, performing his repetitive, droid-minded tasks.
Skywalker walked over and stood before the Centopt. Jafan was a tall man, and he had to adjust his eyes slightly upward.
"Well, I have told you my purpose here. I have no idea how long I plan to be in residence. I have no idea what will become of the garrison. Your garrison, I believe, was probably here less to guard my father than to guard these artifacts. I am just a soldier, too, Centopt. I don't know what fate you and your men have in the future of the Empire. My offer still is to let all of you continue your duty here, and be paid, and the politics will be sorted out later."
The two men understood one another. Jafan appreciated the frankness of the young inheritor.
"I will speak directly, Commander. Troopers like myself are just pedestrians, we have always said. I was dedicated to the Empire and the Emperor, of course. I swore an oath. I kept it until his death. Now, I no longer know where else I would go. I have protected this castle… and the Voss… for a long time now. It is what I do. What I still want to do. For the sake of the Voss, at least."
Skywalker nodded. He looked away slightly over the horizon of the mountains, feeling that there wasn't much more he needed to say.
"It's strange how we've all ended up here, then. I grew up far away from the center of the Empire, on Tatooine. I had hoped to join the Imperial academy once, myself. What about yourself, Jafan?"
"I'm a city person, Commander. I grew up in the slums of Nar Shadaa. The stormtrooper corps was my first real home. I was stationed around the galaxy at times, but the corps itself was always home to me, before I settled here."
Luke nodded.
"You have all been here for years. How is the morale? Are the rest of the troopers eager to leave?"
"I believe those who truly desired most to leave were part of the party which left before your arrival, Commander. We have been isolated while we have been here, it's true. But many of us have made ties to the Voss. I have a Voss wife myself, Sir, and two children."
Skywalker understand why Jafan felt that Voss was truly his home.
"I am pleased that you have that. So how is it with the garrison and the native Voss? Do the other troopers feel the same as you?"
Jafan's face twitched slightly into the formal, neutral expression once again.
"The relations with the garrison and the Voss have been … complicated. We all interact with the Voss, and they trade heavily for services to the garrison and their Imperial credits. Food, repairs, clothing … other services..."
"Do others have wives the same as you?"
"Yes… some. Others do also use other… services the Voss provide."
"I see. You know, I have little interest in causing disruption in any harmony here. But I fought the Empire for a reason. I cannot allow slavery here."
Jafan met his gaze with a neutral expression as he contemplated whether Vader's son was testing his authority. The moment hung briefly.
"The Voss were not categorized as eligible for slavery in Imperial law, Sir, aside from those convicted of insurgence. I have to protect my men, but I have punished them for treating the Voss unjustly. I am a formal member of their society, having been married into it. I never have stood for them to be mistreated."
Skywalker sensed Jafan's integrity towards the Voss. He was nonetheless suspicious of what sort of services the stormtroopers may have procured from the locals.
"But for the Voss themselves. The status of these servants and… brothels?"
"Voss society is stratified. They have strict moral codes, stratified social hierarchy, based in a religion I have to say I don't quite understand. They have a feudal society of masters, mystics, artisans, and workers, who each live by the leave of others. Not slavery as the Imperials see it, but they are bound by families and oaths. I can't say I know for certain what kind of crimes go on within that society. It was never our job here to police the Voss unless they interfered with Imperial jurisdiction. Their views on both commerce and family are complicated. They deal in both with us outsiders, and they have very little here in this community. But they aren't brutalized. We've seen to that.
"They do keep to themselves, including maintaining order and laws in their society. They maintain no offworld transport of their own on this side of the planet, so there has been very little interaction with the outside worlds. There have been smugglers here, but they have mostly remained in the untamed, Nightmare Lands, rarely dealing with the Voss."
Jafan cleared his throat. Could the Jedi tell if he lied?
"As for the smugglers, Sir, the garrison has not interacted with them, either, as smugglers and traders have remained outside the Imperial Zone, and our mission here is guard duty and combat, not policing trade taxes."
Skywalker nodded some more, still waving the steaming teacup under his nose, but seemed to keep a questioning eye on Jafan. He said nothing, perhaps musing over which items Jafan had exaggerated or omitted. He finally spoke.
"I'll tell you this much, Centopt. There is much for me to see with inspecting the camp itself, meeting the Voss locals formally. I wonder, did Vader ever meet or host the Voss?"
"Not at all, Commander."
This didn't seem to come as a surprise to the young inheritor.
"I'd like to meet them at some point. I think they would know more, probably, about what drew Vader here. I won't keep you too long today, Centopt. I think I might come down and inspect the equipment of the garrison myself. If the TIE fighters are in working order, I might just take a look at them for myself. I've never really inspected one in working order up close. I'll say at 1400 hours?"
Jafan nodded. "Very good, Commander. I will be prepared to receive you."
"Thank you, Jafan. You're dismissed."
Jafan offered a quick salute which Skywalker quickly returned. The Centopt turned on his heels and exited. Jafan mused at how formal the interaction was, even as they had strained to be informal. But he couldn't also feel that the Rebel was somehow friendlier than he expected. He anticipated more tension to be present that there was.
He marched back down the hall with formal cadence. Eventually, his footsteps became less like a parade march, slackening to become more casual as he was further away. His feet were the only sounds other than the chirps and servo groans of the droids behind him.
⁴HUD: Heads-Up Display. Obviously, stormtrooper helmets were practically impossible to see out of when looking only through the eye holes. Every helmet had a calibrated display showing a feed of the outside world, compensating for low or bright light, including vital information from comm-links, environmental scans, and other alert data. They could be tweaked to sHUhow specific visual ranges, such infra-red. They adjusted to the motion of the wearer's eyes, so this caused much confusion and disorientation if they weren't calibrated correctly.