*4*

31 BBY

I gasped in shock as Daniel stayed Bill and Jesse's hands, as did everyone else. "How- How did you-" Bill stuttered in amazement as Daniel pulled him and Jesse into a hug. "You did it, Dan'ika! You survived!" I called, while Enacca and Chewbacca both roared happily.

Dan let go of his family before jumping off of the pyre and sitting down, motioning for all of us to do the same. "Kal, I didn't survive. That shot to the heart killed me." He pulled down his tunic to show the scoring was still on his chest along with a scar where the bolt made its' impact. "But you're here now," Donaldson said.

"The Force revived me, Greg. I was told by an old friend of mine that the Universe has plans for me. And I WILL see those plans through." "So what now?" Jesse asked. "Now I will have to disguise myself. If Jango Fett realizes that I survived, he'll come back to finish the job."

"Something strange happened when Fett fired at you; the bolt was pushed down far more than bullet drop would have done," Donaldson said, as Dan reached out through The Force and ignited the now-empty pyre. "Someone was looking out for you, then; Jango never misses an intended head shot," I replied. "Someone who is capable of using The Force saved me, then. Did we get the informant?"

"He got away. Though I'm sure Jango put a round through his skull. Fett's the cautious type," Donaldson said. So what else will you do now, son?" Bill asked. "I was thinking something behind the scenes with the shop, actually. Or maybe helping Kal."

"Bobby has been looking for someone to take over his position in arranging deliveries. You'd need a voice scrambler but I can get one for you," I replied. "We've got a new shop being built in the Upper City. We'll need someone to run it when it's finished," Jesse said. "I'll do both, then. Just get me the scrambler and I'll get started." "Dan, you just came back from the dead. Take a few weeks off," Donaldson suggested.

"I'll be fine. Do we have the security footage?" Dan responded thoughtfully. "Enacca? Can we get the footage?" I asked, leading her to roar emphatically before climbing up into the trees to reach the Docking Bay. "We don't have to climb, do we? I think dying was enough excitement for me today," Dan laughed, which made us all laugh. "If you like, Chewie will carry you in his knapsack like a young Wookiee," Donaldson chuckled.

Chewie chuckled deeply the way only Wookiees can as the last of the pyre burned down. "The Fang is about 300 meters behind us, in a clearing. No climbing to be done," I laughed. When the pyre was no more than embers and ash, we made the return to the ship, headed towards the docking bay. ***

Later on that night once the occupied docking bays were closed to everyone but maintenance and the ship crews, Enacca managed to get Chewie and I into the security cam databanks. "94… 94. Where the hell is the databank for Docking Bay 94?" I asked aloud to Chewie. He quietly grumbled to me in response. "It's your system, Chewie! It jumps from 25 to 68 to 13…" I trailed off as Enacca grumbled in triumph. Making my way over there, I plugged in the datapad to record the data on the cameras for Docking Bay 94 for the entire day. I just got ready to enter the command to commence the upload when I heard a keycard swipe in the door we came in.

Chewie and Enacca moved to the shadows, while I stayed put and concentrated. A human maintenance worked came walking in just as I cloaked myself and the datapad with The Force. "Where are you going?" someone called into the room after him. "To clear the databanks like I do every night!"

"We need your help in Seventy Four first. Come with me; we'll dump the data when we come back through." "Fine by me." The door shut and locked behind him as I dropped the glamour and began the upload. "That was a little too close." Chewie and Enacca rumbled their agreement, as I hit the button to play the tape while it downloaded.

Out of eight security cameras, one of them managed to pick up the meeting between me and the informant at the time I specified on the search feature. At the sight of me being thrown from the chair by the impact of the bolt, I clutched my chest uncomfortably.

My corpse hadn't hit the ground before Donaldson was holding me and the informant was gone, with the rest of the crew and Kal running over to my body. When the console finally chirped to confirm it had completed the download, the three of us made it back to Docking Bay 37.

"How'd you do?" Kal asked as we boarded the ship. "Got the tapes of the meeting, but there's only one camera that picked it up. Are we all set here?" "Got everything- Thermal to track the bolt and confirm there was a Jedi or Force user there to bend it from your head to your chest;

Identification software to figure out who the informant was; and a plethora of other things to get more information." "Kal, how the hell are we going to figure out who the informant is?"

"Easy. Everyone on a ship that docks here is subject to a voiceprint. You told me yourself that the informant confirmed he arrived an hour before the meeting. So we take the data from all of the ships docked between two hours before the meeting in the event he was lying to the meeting itself.

We take shots of his stature and compare those to shots taken when the crew leaves the ship." "Fair enough. Let's get to it," I replied. "You're going to lie down and rest while WE narrow it down," Dad told me. "Dad, I'm fine." "I'm not asking, son. Go lay down." I handed Jesse the datapad before going to lay down. ***

"How do you feel?" Donaldson asked as I came back into the communications room. "I'm okay. How are we doing in here?" "Not good. The informant WAS killed by Jango; his body was found late last night." "What about the bullet?" "We're having trouble tracking it with thermal past the discharge point," Dad called out.

"Run it from the start, Jess," Kal said. Under intense magnification, I watched the round enter the frame at the start until it hit my heart and knocked me from my chair. "How does it look under thermal?" Jesse played the data, which showed Jango firing the bolt but it did not show the bolt dropping.

"Play it back." I marked the moment where the bolt went dark on the video under thermal as Jesse played it again. "Two seconds in, Jango fires. But why does the bolt go dark at six seconds?" I wondered aloud. "Before we pushed in to track the round we saw the trajectory of the sight he used- it was trained on your head like we thought," Dad said, leading Jesse to show it on the video.

"With the distance Fett is from me, what's the maximum drop for the rifle he's using?" "The EE-3? Round drop occurs 2 centimeters per 200 feet, or five point oh eight inches. The distance between the ledge he's on and your table is five hundred feet. That means that AT MAXIMUM the bullet would drop twelve point seven inches; but that is under wind pressure and a handful of other variables," Kal replied.

"So if the wind were blowing, the closest it would get to my heart is roughly my adam's apple. That leaves almost twelve inches left. Can we run a sim of the shot as it should have been?" "On screen now." The simulation showed the round piercing my head, as it would have free of variables. "Keep the footage on thermal until a second before the round goes dark, and reverse the polarity to show the cold instead of the heat," I thought aloud, as Jesse ran the footage within those parameters.

Instead of the bullet going dark at six seconds, the footage flowed seamlessly to it impacting me. "It DOES get bent by The Force. From eight seconds to sixteen it's dropping like a rock!" "It's time for Greg and I to get back to the ship. We'll have the distorter in two days, Dan'ika. When you arrive back at Taris, I'll have Bobby come by to set up the operation," Kal said, before he and Donaldson left.

"Are we ready to go home?" Dad asked as we took a break from viewing the footage. "Might as well. We've got more data than we have screens," Jesse said. "Coming with us, Chewie?" I asked, leading him to roar happily. "Enacca?" Enacca replied that she would remain on Kashyyyk for the present but one day would come to visit us.

An hour later, the four of us were leaving the planet with Dad and Jesse piloting and Chewie and I pouring over the footage again. "Are there any suspicious looking people on camera at the time Fett shoots me?" Chewie laughed at that question. "Other than everyone, I mean. Is there anyone who doesn't run away when the round goes off?" Chewie responded by pulling up footage of a man standing towards the table I was at.

"What does he do when Fett shoots?" The tape showed the cloaked man moving his hand downward slightly before walking away. "Is there a shot of his face on any of the cameras?" After a few moments of the computer searching, it showed the man's face somewhat as he entered the bay a full hour before I arrived. Chewie growled that he doubted the man was an ally.

"Why would he save me just to kill me, Chewie? Unless he wants me to turn to the Dark Side." Another grumble. "I've been wondering that myself. Since The Force healed my heart and brought me back, would it have healed my brain and skull? And if so, why did the man redirect it to my heart?"

As if responding to my question, the ship was suddenly yanked from hyperspace. "Dad, hat the hell's going on up there?" "Pirates have us trapped in an interdiction field. Two light transports are headed our way, son. Prepare to boarded." Chewie grabbed his bowcaster and followed me to the docking ring. "Did you have to choose the YT-1250, dad? There are two access ramps," I grumbled to myself, as Chewie and I split up.

"Join us up here in the cockpit, son. I've given them our surrender." Chewie roared in disappointment as we took the walk to the cockpit. Jesse had already killed the engines when we came in and sat down. Ten minutes later we were ordered to the starboard docking ramp. Dad led us, with Chewie and I bringing up the rear. We walked around the corner with our weapons at the ready, only to find some 30 men training THEIR weapons on us.

"Don't even think about it," a pompous young pirate said as I reached for Qui-Gon's lightsaber. "I'd listen to him, boy. Garris Shrike doesn't give a second warning," one of the older men said calmly.

"What do you want from us?" Dad asked. "Depends on what you have in the cargo holds," Shrike replied. "Two swoops, a three-man landspeeder, and a spare hyperdrive," Jesse responded. "Looks like we hit the big one this time, boys. We'll be taking both swoops and the hyperdrive. We'll leave you the landspeeder," Shrike said, motioning for the thugs to head to the hold.

"How nice of you," I said sarcastically as he pressed his blaster to my forehead. "You've got three seconds to put that blaster down," I said calmly. "Funny. I thought YOU had three seconds to live," he sneered.

"One." I saw Chewie readying to grab his bowcaster from his shoulder. "Two." The two remaining crew of Shrike's team readied themselves for action, as well. Instead of counting to three, I blasted the two crew members back through the docking ramp with one hand and disarmed Shrike with the other.

His blaster hand became useless after the loud snap of his wrist breaking. Chewie stifled his scream while Dad shut the docking ramp. "Hope they got the vent closed in time," I said absently, as Jesse searched for Shrike's blaster. "One scream and you're a dead man," Dad told Shrike, as Chewie removed his hand from Shrike's mouth. "What planet are we closest to?" I asked as I led to Shrike towards the cargo hold with Chewie next to me.

"We're about three parsecs from Contruum," he said tightly as I unclipped Qui-Gon's lightsaber and pressed the hilt against his side before we walked into the hold. "If you would all kindly step away from the cargo, your 'fearless' leader would appreciate it," Jesse said, making the twenty-some odd pirates quickly turn around to witness us holding Shrike at lightsaber and blaster point. Their response was to draw their rifles and train them on us. "Stand down, men. Leave the cargo," Shrike responded.

"Don't worry, Garris. We shouldn't have a problem taking them out and leaving you alive," a cocky young girl said. "You got some fire to you. What's your name?" "Britt. Britt Smith." "Well, Ms. Smith, do your parents know you're a pirate? What do they think about it?" "I ran away from home a long time ago. I'm sure they think I'm dead by now." "Would you like to show them otherwise?" Dad interrupted. I saw her eyes sparkle momentarily before becoming hard brown orbs once again.

"I didn't need them; if I did, I wouldn't have run away when I was fourteen." "Enough chitchat. Everyone stand down. THAT'S AN ORDER!" Shrike yelled. Everyone, including Britt, set their weapons down before heading to the remaining docking ramp. I kept my hilt pressed against Shrike's side until everyone was in. "Last chance, Britt," I called, being prepared for her to refuse.

Instead, she looked at me oddly. "Why are you giving me a second chance?" "Everyone deserves a second chance, Britt." "Where's our second chance?" Shrike asked. "You're still alive, aren't you?" Jesse replied, making Chewie chuckle.

"What's the catch?" she asked, walking to the front of the crowd. "No catch. You come with us to our destination and we'll get you transport home," Dad replied. The ship was suddenly rocked turbolaser fire, leading Dad and Jesse to rush to the cockpit. "Last chance."

Britt ran back aboard the ship as I Force shoved Shrike to the crew. "Keep treating people the way you do, Shrike, and you won't see fifty. You've got twenty seconds before I vent you." Chewie shut the airlock and waited to launch the docking ring. "They're clear. Do it, Chewie." The moment we were clear, the ship powered forward as Britt looked at me. "What can I do?"

"Chewie? Give Dad and Jess a hand in the cockpit. Britt and I will handle the quad turrets." "Any preference of turret?" Britt asked as we got to the access ladder. "Not at all." "I'll take the dorsal turret, then." Britt climbed up top when I got down into the ventral turret. "Put 'em in the Money Lane, Jess. We're all ready down here," I called into the headset.

"Navicomputer is picking up the route we were on before, but the interdiction field is still up. Hold them off until we can jump." "Any idea when that will be?" "Should only be twenty minutes if the one with the gravity well projector doesn't chase us." "Britt, which ship has the projector?" I called into the headset.

"The YG-4210 has it. The Anxarta-class light freighter is a decoy from the fortytwo because of its' size." "The fortytwo it is, then." Dad and Jesse kept the ship steady during our retreat, while Britt and I held back the pirates. The 4210 stayed where it was, but the lightly crewed Anxarta continued the chase. "We need more time back there! See what you can do," Dad called out.

Britt continued to batter their shields but I noticed it wasn't doing much good at holding them off. Instead of me adding to the battle with the quad turret, I reached out with The Force to the Anxarta's hyperdrive and destroyed the fusion generator that powered it. "Jess, reach out to Contruum's security force and let them know about these clowns. The Anxarta's hyperdrive is now dead so they'll have trouble escaping."

"Scratch that, son. It will draw too much attention. Shrike will realize who you are and begin to talk. The less intel he has, the better off we are." "We have to do SOMETHING about them, Dad. They can't keep robbing people," I argued. "I won't lose you again, son. You boys are my life."

"I'll contact the security force of Contruum when we arrive at our destination. Shrike's base is there," Britt said, heading off the rapidly growing argument. "Five more minutes is all we need. Just give us five more minutes," Jess called out as I raked fire across the Anxarta's bow. The ship rocked once more as she returned fire, making me absently register that the shields were down to eighty percent.

"And we're outta here!" Jesse finally called, before we went to hyperspace. I took my time exiting the turret, not feeling good about leaving the pirates to rob another ship. Britt met me at the crew lounge, where we sat together at the table. "So who are you, really? Why is your dad so worried about you?"

"It's probably a good thing that you don't recognize me. My name's Dan Updike. Until recently, I was a Jedi." "I've heard of you! I heard Jango Fett put a bullet in your heart." That prompted me to show her the scar. "I died but for some strange reason, The Force decided it wasn't time for me to go. After healing my heart, it revived me and told me that my future was too important to end there in the docking bay on Kashyyyk. "So what will you do now?"

"What I did before, I suppose- continue working with my family and become a better and stronger Jedi. I may not be in the Order, but I still have a duty to people who need help." "But why should it be you having to help them all? The Order should be doing that."

"I wonder that myself, sometimes. There aren't enough Jedi to help everyone; there aren't enough to put one on each planet in the galaxy. And the Order isn't usually involved until open conflict or all-out war begins. I think part of it is the politics- what some view as compassionate helping, others view as domination of their lives and minds.

Get enough complaints and pretty soon the Temple's funding starts getting cut. Less credits, less Jedi hopefuls are discovered from lack of transportation. And so the major crimes against life- murder, pirating, spice sales, blackmail- flourish at the idea of the Order one day not existing because politicians refuse to pay for us."

"What's the other part?" "I think the other part is that we're afraid to become Sith. It wouldn't take much for me or anyone else to turn to the Dark Side." "I've heard the Sith have been dead for a thousand years. Do you think that's true?" "Sadly, I know it's not. Do you remember the blockade of Naboo last year?"

"Of course I do. The whole galaxy was on edge for two weeks." "The whole thing was engineered by a Sith Lord. We weren't aware at first who killed Qui-Gon Jinn, but we now know it was the apprentice, who was killed by Obi-Wan Kenobi shortly after." "Would you find this Sith Lord?"

"If I could? Absolutely. Ending the Sith would make the galaxy a much better place; we've got a lot of the Sith holocrons under lock and key but some have escaped us. Without those holocrons or Sith Masters, Dark Jedi would simply be Dark Jedi."

"But shouldn't the Order prevent them from becoming Dark Jedi?" Britt argued. "Becoming dark isn't turning on or off a switch; you CAN go Dark Side with one action such as killing an innocent person but it is usually over a long period of time. If a Jedi goes dark, then he shouldn't have been a Jedi to begin with."

"What leads to the Dark Side?" "A number of things can lead to the Dark Side: fear; anger; hatred; the rawest of emotions are steps along the path. Attachment and possession are forbidden. As is love, but I disagree with that entirely." "Why do you disagree with it?"

"I think love helps you in a variety of ways- it fills an emotional void in all of us. It also helps us to view something higher than ourselves. Lastly, it helps me make my fighting more defensive." "In my experience, love doesn't end well." I looked her in the eye at that point. "Well, he was obviously a fool." ***

"Welcome home," Jesse said, as I sat down in the new office my dad gave me until the new shop was finished. "Gonna stick around?" I asked Britt as she sat down. "The next shuttle to Tralus doesn't arrive for three days, so I'll be here for a while longer."

"Kal's picked up the distorter; he'll drop it off later and Bobby will be tomorrow," Dad said, before going off to continue working. "On that note, I'm gonna get back to work. The sublight I was tuning before we left needs one more adjustment," Jesse said, leaving the three of us with Chewie sitting uncomfortably in an undersized chair.

"Kal? Kal Skirata?" Britt asked. "Yeah. How do you know him?" "Kal Skirata is a friend of my father. He's like an uncle to me." "So why did you leave home?" "My mother and father own a series of both naval and space-traveling yachts. I didn't want to become the next owner of the business; I wanted to be a fighter pilot for the Judicial Forces. We agreed that I would be allowed to join the Raithal Academy at the age of seventeen when I was twelve years old, and would spend two years learning how to run the family business in the meantime.

I spent two years learning about every aspect of running the business from customer service to repairing and maintaining both forms of yacht. When I was fourteen I began refining my piloting skills and started to fill out my academy application. My parents tore up my application and refused to consent for me to join when I was old enough to apply; so I left."

"How'd you get involved with Shrike and his crew?" "When I left I caught a freighter to Corellia. Once I got there, he hired me to join the crew." "So why leave them behind? Why come with us?" "When I joined, Shrike's father was in charge of things. We did honest work- shuttling refugees and supplies from one planet to the next. Somewhere along the way, we became pirates.

Shrike killed his father in a 'dueling accident' and had all of the original crew with the exception of his brother and I either fired or killed; some for arguing with him over becoming pirates, others simply because of his hatred for their species." "You'd think that people like him had died out completely by now. Other species have just as much right to this galaxy as we do."

Chewie roared happily at that. "It's got nothing to do with you ripping my arms from the sockets, Chewie. It's the simple fact that one of your people being a Madclaw doesn't make your entire race insane and deserving of mistreatment or death."

"What's a Madclaw?" "A Madclaw is a Wookiee that uses his claws as weapons in battle against another Wookiee; a Wookiee's claws are tools, not weapons to use against each other. It is the most dishonorable things that a Wookiee can do. If a Wookiee does it, it leads to automatic exile." Chewie burbled appreciatively, asking where I learned that.

"Master Tyvokka taught me much of your culture. I can speak some of your language, but cannot do it justice. He helped raise me until his death when I was three years old; after that, Master Yoda decided I was ready to be trained as a Youngling." Chewie chuckled at my murdering of his language. "Much more of that and I'll shave you bald." ***

The Republic has become corrupt. The Senate, nothing more than a circus to view squabbling senators waste their days on issues that don't matter; my Master has shown me that through leading by example. He pretends to be different from them, but he is not. Darth Sidious is weak, unfit to be a Sith Lord.

I recently saved the life of a former Jedi student that reminds me much of my former Padawan, Qui-Gon Jinn. With Daniel Updike's help, I will eliminate my Master and take control of the galaxy. I swear this on my name, Darth Tyranus.