Gentlemen… today is a good day. We finally got one. A review. Technically, it's three reviews from the same person, which is even better! So you get the ultimate kudos, Mr. Belmakori. We also got a review from CaptainCakeless113, who is a GOD of the SW/SW crossover fics. I'm not kidding. His fic, "The Legend Reborn", is probably the best SW fanfic I've ever read ever. Go read it once you finish this chapter; it'll revive your faith in fanfic.
With that out of the way, welcome to Chapter 7. I would tell you what's going on in this chapter, but that would be telling.
RRRP:
Belmakori Review on SW:I: You might want to be a bit more creative with your names. Kastan is fine, but Brenda, George, eg. I'd try to come up with something different.
Me: And Luke or Han isn't a common name? Ok, but there's a reason behind those two. I chose Brenda because I wanted to paint the Enderbecks as ordinary people. I originally was going to name George Greg, but then my dad, whose name is George, walked in on me writing the early drafts and was all like "aww, you named a character after me!" And I just died for about twenty minutes laughing hysterically. But the name stuck.
Belmakori on SW:R: I see your writing has improved.
Me: Thanks!
Belmakori on SW:R: Kabam shut down Uprising? I thought my computer was just being dumb.
Me: Yeah, I thought so too until I saw the news. Now I play Star Wars: Galaxy of Heroes instead.
CaptainCakeless113: They definitely have potential and they seem interesting, also sometimes it seemed you were forcing dialogue to conform to scenes when it didn't fit the character. (Don't worry, it's not a huge deal, I used to have the same problem) But with experience, that problem will disappear. All in all, I think you're doing well thus far.
Me: I like to think that I write good dialogue, but I know that I only do that for my OC's. This is mainly because I have a hard time worming my way into another person's mind and walking around in it, so I'm unsure of what someone would say and when. Because of this, I take a "The Last Jedi"-style approach towards dialogue to action; I know where I want them to go, but I don't really end up caring if I go slightly OOC to get to that situation.
DISCLAIMER: If I owned Star Wars, Revan would still be canon, and KABAM would bring Star Wars: Uprising back. Since neither of those things are happening, I do not own Star Wars. No duh.
Chapter 7: Twin Suns, but with the True Light (Pt. 1)
!0*0!
"Lost. I am lost. And yet… I can feel his presence. So close. So close. I can see him. In my mind's eye. Kenobi… KENOBI!"
The Zabrak Sith spread his arms to the twin stars of Tatooine as he screamed the name of his most hated foe. It turned out that searching an entire planet's worth of sand, dust, bantha excrement, and grit for a person who didn't want to be found was, to say the least, extraordinarily difficult.
The echo of 'Kenobi' wafted over the endless beige dunes. The Sith didn't want to die by any stretch of the imagination. Internally, he vowed to destroy the Jedi if it was the last thing he would do.
An idea slowly formed in the dark recesses of his mind, and Maul smirked evilly as he glanced at the shards of a Jedi Holocron.
!0*0!
He couldn't move an inch.
Kastan glanced at his surroundings. There was no light or other defining features in the room, but judging by the blood eagerly flowing to his head, the True Light paragon was upside down.
He had been stuck to some kind of circle hung against the wall by rusty nails that pierced his clothes, effectively keeping him pinned to said wall like a human tapestry.
A small collection of mask-wearing clones approached, and then more and more and more, filling the room with their presence. They approached with more rusty nails, and hammers, and spent a solid half-hour simply banging the reddened iron into his skin. His body became dominated by the acute pain, and it took far too long to die down.
Suddenly, the world started spinning, smearing the darkened room in hues of black, grey, and the stark, blood red lightsabers of hundreds upon thousands of KE's. Kastan began to feel nauseous, as sometimes the direction of spin would change completely without losing any velocity. A blaster shot would ring out on occasion, just narrowly missing his skull as he rotated quicker and quicker.
A veritable ocean of Sith Clones started stalking forwards, lightsabers ignited, ready for the kill. The spinning abruptly stopped, leaving the True Light Grandmaster dazed and confused.
Every inch of space near Kastan was promptly stabbed by their lightsabers. He wouldn't have moved even if he could. Occasionally, a droplet of blood would fizzle on the superheated edge of a Sith lightsaber, enveloping the room in the acrid scent of frying skin and burning blood
The lightsabers closed in, slowly rending through the clothes of the Insurgent, and then made agonizing contact with his tanned skin, eliciting screams of agony from G5-81356. From the corner of his rapidly fading vision, he could see his closest companions, within the True Light and without, being forced to watch by a masked KE-01.
"There are no false alarms," a KE unit whispered in Kastan's ear as his vision finally faded to a merciful black.
The True Light Paragon awoke in a cold sweat. For a fraction of a fraction of an instant, he thought his hands were covered in mottled, bloody scars before they returned to its usual beige, compounded with a particularly nasty migraine. Shaking his head, Kastan decided to rejoin the world of the living and maybe find something to do that wasn't torture.
!0*0!
"So what are the holocrons trying to say?" Kanan inquired.
"I'm certain of it," Ezra pushed. "Master Kenobi's life is in danger; Maul is after him right now!"
"It would be a miracle if General Kenobi was alive, certainly," Rex acknowledged. "But Senator Organa confirmed his death almost twenty years ago."
"Well, then Senator Organa is wrong!"
"It could have easily just been a glitched recording," Hera reasoned.
"If it was a broken record, why would Maul be in it?" Ezra argued.
"Maul has tricked us before," Kanan said thoughtfully, his vacant eyes expressing no emotion.
"Even if he is tricking us, it's still worth investigating. I'm going to Tatooine to check things out."
He was about to turn and walk out of the room, if it were not for a certain Twi'lek pilot dragging him the opposite direction.
"Need I remind you that we are planning an attack on the Star Forge?" Hera chided once they were out of earshot. "We need as many people with Force powers as we can get."
"And Kenobi isn't a Force user? He could easily assist us with the assault!"
"If he was alive, do you think he would be hiding on some backwater world instead of helping us? I wish things were different, but we all need you here for the mission."
"I'm perfectly committed to the Star Forge assault and the Lothal mission, thank you very much," Ezra replied.
"I understand what you're going through. Just make the right choice."
With that, the pair vacated the area and rejoined the others.
Hera turned right, towards the remainder of the force, to flesh out a concrete strategy for their Star Forge assault. Ezra traveled left as discreetly as possible, towards the landing ports.
Meanwhile, Kastan had finally rejoined the waking world, clutching his head tightly like it might fall off if he let go. The True Light paragon wasn't looking where he was walking, and collided with the neophyte Jedi.
Luckily for their egos, neither was swept off their feet, although both were significantly disoriented. Blinking to regain some semblance, of control, Ezra took a long look at the True Light Grandmaster for the first time in days.
It wasn't a pretty sight.
Deep, purple bags had accumulated under his eyes. At times, it looked like he would nod off completely, but he never did. Physically, his body was just the same as Ezra remembered it, but it looked… overused. Like Kas hadn't taken the time to relax in the last few days that he desperately deserved.
"Sorry about that. Bad migraine," Kastan explained, still clutching his skull. "I've been having them a lot recently. How did the mission go?"
"I'd say it went pretty well, given that Fulcrum is now informed of the threat," Ezra asserted. "Do you want me to grab you some aspirin or something?"
"It goes away with time," Kastan assured. "Faster if I'm doing something."
Ezra stood still for a moment, contemplating what he had heard. "Well… I'm going on another mission. To Tatooine. Now that you're here… want to tag along?"
"I should probably check up on the True Light enclave there anyway," Kastan acknowledged.
"Didn't you do that when we got the Star Map?" Ezra inquired.
"Yeah, but a lot could have happened in a few weeks. Force knows it did for me."
"Did you ever heal your arm?" Ezra asked. Indeed, said arm lay limp at Kastan's side.
"Well… no. I decided to keep it the way it is, as a reminder of who and what I am. Anyway, I'll go with you because I really don't have anything else to do. When do we leave?"
"As soon as possible," Ezra assured, slightly put off by Kastan's flippant answer.
!0*0!
Attacking Ilum had certainly been difficult for Clan Wren. It was one of the few planets in the Outer Rim that the Empire had vehemently conquered due to its abundance in Force Crystals. It was also a major foothold of Clan Saxon in the Outer Rim, and therefore, a vital planet with which to strike further into Clan Saxon territory.
However, with the assistance of a True Light enclave, Sabine's strike force had managed to wipe the Empire off the face of the planet. There would have been much fanfare, had there been many sentient life-forms on the frozen world.
Regardless, the Empire had long since done its damage to Ilum, almost completely draining it of its precious Kyber crystals; whilst the Rebels had linked it to an "Operation Stardust", they had yet to decipher what that operation entailed.
From one frozen world to another, as Krownest reappeared above the small ship Sabine and her cohorts were currently located in. Landing and dismounting was a simple procedure, and sooner than expected, the Wren Stronghold came back into view.
Throwing off their sweat-encrusted helms, the strike force re-entered the Wren Stronghold, exposing their faces to the dry, frozen air.
The euphoria of the moment hadn't really hit home for Sabine yet. Not the battle-induced wartime exhilaration that she had been familiar with for a long time. No, she was absolutely adoring being reunited with Clan Wren. She felt liberated by not having to be chained to her past any longer. And it was positively heavenly.
"Sabine! Are you even listening?"
Tristan's bark broke the Mandalorian out of her thoughts. "Sorry, what was that?"
Tristan rolled his eyes in the way only a younger brother could. "I had asked you to report on the mission."
"Attacking Ilum wasn't easy," Sabine recounted. "We didn't see much of Clan Saxon, but the Empire itself was positively swarming on the planet. If it wasn't for the True Light enclave that happened to be on the surface, the mission would have almost certainly been a complete failure. However, we did manage to wipe Saxon's people off Ilum as well as scare off most of the Empire, even if the Jedi Temple's interior structure collapsed while we were in it."
"Good. Having a foothold in Sector G7 will be very beneficial to the fight. Dismissed."
Tristan's time under Gar Saxon had certainly changed the Mandalorian. He was significantly more militaristic, more tense. He was always ready to move, to pull out a rifle and shoot a threat. And it was Sabine's fault.
No, she thought. Don't follow that train of thought.
"Understood, Captain," Sabine replied before turning heel and strolling to her own quarters.
"Oh, and before I forget," Tristan called. "Mother wanted to talk to you about something. I suggest doing that immediately."
Sabine simply nodded in response and departed to the Throne Room.
!0*0!
The small shuttle exited hyperspace over the barren world of Tatooine. Today, it shone a gold that hurt the eye too much to be looked at directly, unless you were Chopper and didn't have eyes. Ezra gingerly directed the shuttle towards the dark side of the planet, where he knew the enclave was located.
"I hate this planet," Kastan lamented. "What are we even supposed to be doing here, anyway?"
"Uh… Hera and Kanan sent me to track down Maul on the surface," Ezra lied. "I figured you and Chop could assist me."
"You could have just as easily gone to the True Light enclave on the surface and gotten their help," Kastan argued. "You didn't need to drag me into it."
"In all honesty, I forgot that that existed," the Padawan admitted sheepishly. "We can use it as a base of operations. Besides, I felt that you needed to get out of Chopper Base, because Hera told me that you're training yourself the brink of death and back every day."
Kastan rolled his eyes at the remark, and fixed his attention once more on the swiftly growing planet in front of him. Taking the wheel, the True Light Paragon gingerly piloted the small craft towards what at first appeared to be a beaten-down Tusken enclave. But they knew different. Thanks to their time on Tatooine, the Rebels knew that this particular enclave was, in fact, the primary headquarters of the True Light, as well as the site of their creation.
Almost immediately, similarly to the last time they had entered True Light space, all their instruments suddenly jammed, started malfunctioning, or simply stopped working. The on-board communicator blared to life.
"Who goes there?" A distinctly feminine voice emanated.
"Kastan Enderbeck, status 'Grandmaster', passcode 'Boundless986'," Kastan replied.
"Sir, you forgot the false-alarm code," the voice pointed out snobbishly.
"Since when has there been a false-alarm code?" Kastan mused.
"Good, you're verified. Proceed to docking bay B," the voice praised.
Just as suddenly as they were shut down, the tech in the shuttle started up again, as if nothing had happened.
The landing went surprisingly smoothly. Much of the True Light present had appeared to meet up with their leader. The next half-hour, at least, was spent catching up with the various peoples of the enclave, who ranged from short, stout Ugnaughts to dark-skinned humans to sentients too fantastical for Ezra to name. They hadn't stayed at the actual True Light Enclave during their last expedition to Tatooine to cover up the Star Map; the crew had opted to purchase a hotel room in nearby Anchorhead under false names to disguise their true intentions from the locals. Besides, the True Light enclave was farther away, and had less resources.
Their timing was poor. Daybreak was nigh, and only a fool would voluntarily strand themselves in the desert to be cooked by the high temperatures the planet offered. Deeming it the better option, the group decided to stay at the enclave until night once again overtook the land.
"He's right there. About eighty miles that-a-way," Kastan said, emerging from meditation. He pointed in a seemingly random direction. The assembled force-users, however, knew different; they had also joined their Grandmaster in meditation, and had also pinpointed the Sith's location.
"He's been moving in the same direction for the last three days," a Zabrack informed. "Treie and the rest of the Shadowatch have been tracking his location for a while now."
"Tell her thanks for me, will you?" Kastan asked. The Zabrack nodded.
"Our friend Ezra knows Maul the best," the True Light paragon continued. "His knowledge on this particular Sith will be invaluable. Beyond that, a small party should definitely be sent out to crush him. After he's done beelining this way, he's probably going to double back and attack the enclave."
"Still, he's one man," a Tortuga pointed out. "You'd think that with all the Force-wielders we have in the enclave would be able to defend well enough."
"One of our own lives lost is one life too many," Kastan argued. The Tortuga nodded and stepped back.
"What is Maul on Tatooine here for, anyway?" an Ugnaught said. "There's nothing here except for sand, grit, and dust."
"He's here for Kenobi," Ezra said suddenly. "He's here for revenge."
The members of the True Light turned and looked at him like they'd just realized his existence. Or like he'd spontaneously grown another head.
"With all due respect, Mr. Bridger, if Obi-Wan Kenobi was here, we would have sensed it by now," a human female said, stepping into the room. Her attire threw Ezra off guard; she wore full black robes with a gold chestplate situated in the center. "And by proxy, the Empire would have sensed him too."
"Good to see that you've joined the party, Kreie," Kastan greeted. Kreie only snorted mirthfully in response. "But whatever the reason, we are all in agreement that this Maul must be stopped, correct?"
"Of course," everyone chorused.
"Good. Myself, Ezra, and the Shadowatch will take some speeders and confront him, defeat him. We'll attack tonight, under the cover of darkness. The rest of us will defend the enclave on the off chance we get ourselves trapped, defeated, or lost. Understood?"
"Understood!" the group replied before filing out of the room in an orderly fashion.
The woman Kastan had labeled as Kreie stepped forwards, not following everyone else. She exuded an aura of mystery, power, and self-assuredness.
"Grandmaster. We need to talk," she said, thrusting something into his hands. He glanced at it, and then looked at her with a face that screamed stunned confusion
"Treie… how…"
"We'll talk about it in a few," the lady said flippantly before dragging Kastan out of the room into the inner echelons of the enclave.
Ezra glanced at Chopper, who had put itself into sleep mode, before getting up to explore Kastan's enclave.
!0*0!
"You wanted to speak with me?" Sabine inquired.
"Yes, indeed," Ursa Wren replied. "I needed to ask you something."
"What's that?"
"Who is he?"
The question threw the younger of the two off guard. She cocked an eyebrow. "Who's who, Mother?"
"The person who sent you a call when you were on the mission to Ilum," Ursa stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Give me back my communicator, Mother," Sabine drawled.
"Not until you tell me who he is."
Sabine rolled her eyes. "Fine. Let's give it a listen."
The Clan Wren matriarch pulled her daughter's communicator out of her pocket, pressed a few buttons, and then set it down on the table to let Kastan's tinny voice fill the room.
"I realized that I never had the opportunity to explain to you everything that happened on the Vanguard," he started. "So I figured I might as well do it now."
A knowing expression crossed Sabine's face. That would explain Mother's paranoia, she thought
"The reason I hid the fact that I'm a Sith Clone is to not cause any unnecessary hesitation for anyone involved. We were about to attack the Star Forge, and the last thing anyone has to worry about is me being allied with the Empire. In hindsight, I should have explained all this before you went off to Krownest, but everything happened so quick… I'm sorry for keeping you waiting.
I suppose that's logical, she thought. Easy to misinterpret by literally anyone, but logical all the same.
"I changed who GRG-892 was so that people wouldn't assume that he was on our side and assume he's a Rebel sympathizer within the Empire, which he's very much not. I wanted to make sure nobody would think that only to get shot in the face.
Again, makes sense, she thought.
"I didn't tell them about KE-01's… other aspect because… because… because he was a clone of me, with all my memories… and I didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea.
Sabine felt her face flush slightly. At least he had enough sense to not state what said aspect was.
"Things have been going pretty well over here. Zeb and I just raided Jedha and got a few hundred Kyber crystals, so that's good. Chopper Base isn't as colorful without you around, in a strictly literal sense. In all honesty, it feels kind of… empty. Barren. Like something's coming that we can't hope to stop. How have you been holding up against Clan Saxon? Hope you're doing well and aren't, you know, dead. Bye."
Ursa Wren turned to Sabine, eyebrow cocked. It was evident that she wanted an explanation.
"His name is Kastan Enderbeck," Sabine began. "He's an associate of the Rebellion with a particularly powerful connection to the Force. Saved my life plenty of times."
"He's a Jedi?"
"No," Sabine clarified. "He runs a cult of Force-users that embrace both sides of the Force. Some of them helped us secure Ilum."
"Tell me more about this Kastan character," Ursa pushed. It was obvious that she didn't care for the semantics of what Kastan did so much as who he was and why he had called her. "Explain the call."
"As you know, the Empire somewhat recently captured us over Dantooine," Sabine explained. "Kastan had been detained on Manaan after fighting Darth Vader and losing. They also let him know that they had started cloning him to create a Force-wielding Sith army. We met one of them on the Vanguard, the Star Destroyer on which we had been captured.
"We later escaped, assisted by Commander GRG-892. He certainly wasn't a Rebel, and reminded us of that often. He simply wanted to keep his job secure and knew that a complete phase change to the KE units was coming quickly."
Her mother nodded. "Carry on."
"The Emperor himself also informed Kastan that he was a clone, too, and that a third of his life was a complete lie. And to add insult to injury, the clone we met, KE-01, is probably the most sadistic, psychopathic, sociopathic, moronic, oxygen-wasting, ugly, nerf-herding, volatile, deranged, insane, politically incorrect, asinine, depraved piece of shit to ever exist in the galaxy."
Ursa Wren was silent for a moment, processing the information she had just heard. A part of her was disgusted; surely the clone of this Kastan is a carbon copy of the original, with the same thought processes, the same ideologies, the same base instincts. Another part of her was content that her daughter seemed to trust this man. Yet another fraction of her was furious that this man could just casually call her daughter like it meant nothing to her.
A smaller part of her was hopeful, that this could get off the ground and blossom into something more.
"Kastan mentioned a Star Forge. I've never heard of such a thing. What is it?" the Clan Wren matriarch inquired, genuinely interested.
"The Star Forge is a massive space factory that can create a ridiculous amount of tech with a minimum of time and resources. The Empire is currently using it to build towards some huge Operation, which will start in about one rotation. Kastan and a few of my other friends have been working to destroy it for a long time now. We were going to attack just a half-rotation ago… wonder how they're doing now."
She pursed her lips. "I see. You are dismissed, Sabine."
"Thank you, Mother," her daughter replied curtly before turning and walking out of the room.
!0*0!
My powers are wasted on this station, KE-04 thought.
The Sith Clone was livid to an extreme extent. The Star Forge was perfectly safe, and if there was one thing KE-04 hated more than anything, it was doing nothing. This particular Sith Clone was arguably the most unhinged of the current roster, a symptom of over-cloning a Force-sensitive strand. Sure, creating nightmares was somewhat fun, in a sadistic and twisted manner, but it had become little more than busywork. What KE-04 wanted was power. Power over the Galaxy, over peoples, over life and death itself. The Sith Clone had an audacity about him, a vaulting ambition that drove him to steal a Sith Holocron from Emperor Palpatine himself to learn more on how to achieve his ultimate goal.
Knowledge was power. And KE-04 lusted after power.
A facet of power was individuality. To be completely separate from all other parties. A clone, a tool, a means to an end, could never gain true power, for as long as he was indistinguishable from the plethora of copies the Empire would spew forth, he would be nothing but an instrument for another to wield. Who knows; someday another KE unit with the ability to Mind Hack would come along, and KE-04 would be discarded with all the rest of the refuse.
Each clone's identity was unique; each essentially took a 'snapshot' of the Old Geezer's mental condition at the time of their procreation, and made a clone with a personality based on that snapshot. KE-02, for example, was calm and collected on the surface with inner rage broiling just hidden from view. KE-03 was more concerned with staying alive than anything else. KE-05 was far too subdued, too mellow, for the Empire's purposes, perhaps a deliberate effort from the Old Geezer to reestablish control over his mind. KE-05 was given the name Kezn Skirata and sent to the Empire's Public Relations Department. KE-03 was envious of Kezn's privelege.
All the galaxy was but an enormous powderkeg just waiting for a spark to plunge it into full-scale war.
!0*0!
"We felt the call of the Mantle of the Force," Treie explained. "It led us into a Star Destroyer. The Vanguard, I believe."
They had sat down at a table in a particularly secluded part of the enclave's library. They had spent the last ten minutes catching up, although Kastan's odd new hair color was the subject of a lot of it. He had asked her how she had retrieved Revan's lightsaber in the first place. She had explained.
She could see the color slowly drain from her leader's face. The Force didn't need to tell her that he knew exactly what she was going to mention.
"And on the way… we ran into you. Or at least one of your clones."
There it was; the Grandmaster had gone completely pale.
"Yeah," he started. "I finally figured out why the hell the Empire wanted me alive so badly. They just wanted to make an army of Force-sensitive clones."
"The Darkness within you tells a different story", she noted. "There's something you've been holding back, Kastan. And by the demand of the Master of this Enclave and the Leader of the Dark Faction, you will explain this to me."
"Isn't that a trivial use of power, Treie Tyûk," The True Light Grandmaster inquired.
"Don't evade the question," she commanded.
"Fine," Kastan said, feeling more defeated than usual (which was saying a lot.) "I may or may not totally be a clone too and now I've been having a crisis of identity where I end up questioning my own existence and the meaning of this gnawing feeling inside my chest that wants to rip out of my flesh and consume the galaxy to end its unending hunger, only to find that nothing can truly sate it and it will simply rip the fabric of space and time apart into a trillion meaningless pieces of nothingness on a fool's quest for sanctuary!"
It had been an unspoken consensus amongst the True Light to practically worship the dirt that their leader had trodden upon. They did it unconsciously, never having noticed of their own mindless veneration of their leader. Kastan had noticed this rather quickly, and made a point to eradicate the behavior.
His efforts were fruitless.
Treie was one of the few who Kastan could respect, relate to on a certain level. She had been one of the Emperor's Hands in the early years of the Empire as simply Kograx, but soon became disillusioned by the slow pace of the Emperor's teachings and escaped during an early coup on the Emperor's life. She had later changed her name in honor of Darth Traya, her personal ideal. Perhaps that was why he was so gravitated towards her as an accomplice, a friend; they had had similar backgrounds without even knowing.
The fact was that many of the members of the True Light had simply forgotten that Kastan Enderbeck, their infallible leader through thick and thin, was still a person, with his own complex cocktail of emotions. He had his devotion to duty, his love of knowledge, his inability to come to grips with so many trivial things yet could easily grasp even the most complex of Force abilities with natural ease. But most of all, the thirty-year-old was afraid. Afraid for the safety of others should he fall. He had seen how people grew to rely on him, depend on him; what would happen if he died? All those who necessitated his life would fall apart, creating a ripple effect that may very well bring about the end of the True Light and the Rebellion itself.
Treie said nothing for a while, allowing her companion to purge the unrelenting waves of sadness, guilt, self-loathing, and worthlessness pouring off of him. From her angle, she could tell that his eyes were brimming with salty tears.
"The worst part is, he's still out there. The clone who broke me," Kastan finally croaked.
"Is he?" Treie inquired, eyeing Revan's lightsaber. "I seem to remember someone stabbing him with this."
For the second time that day, Kastan appeared dumbfounded. He looked at the lightsaber, and lo and behold, there were stains of dried blood caked on the surface of the hilt.
They're just as nothing as me. Just as human. Just as vulnerable. Just as strong.
Kastan closed his eyes, recalling KE-01's psychopathic behavior, his advances on Sabine, the pain he had inflicted, before letting the clone die in the back of his mind. A slight grin graced his angular features as he felt at peace for the first time in a long time.
"Treie… Thank you."
Kastan glanced up at the setting sun through the small hole in the rafters above them.
"Damn, we wasted too much time chatting. We should probably prepare for Maul, shouldn't we?"
"Good point," Treie confirmed before the both departed for opposite ends of the enclave.
!0*0!
Maul knocked on the door. His appearance was more or less hidden by the darkening dusk. He had been wandering for hours, sustaining himself on the fleeting energies of the Jedi Holocron.
"Who is it?" A voice called from the other side.
"A traveller who's been lost for quite some time," Maul replied. "Dusk is falling, and it's like hell freezing over.
"Couldn't agree with you more, stranger," the voice concurred, opening the door to the Zabrak. "Name's Owen. Owen Lars. Yourself?"
"Call me Blok, Owen," Maul replied, strolling through the open door respectfully.
"So what brings you to these parts?" Owen asked politely as they sat down at a table.
"I've been searching for someone who's wronged me, and I know he's on the planet," the Zabrak explained. "Have you ever heard of an Obi-Wan Kenobi?"
Owen appeared thoughtful for a moment. "Can't say the name Obi-Wan rings any bells… But I have heard of a Ben Kenobi. Crazy old kook who lives further into the Dune Sea. I know I don't want anything to do with him, and neither does anyone in the family. Isn't that right, Luke?"
"Yeah, Uncle Owen," a random teenager whined.
They made small talk for a while before Owen suddenly cursed. He got up from his seat and glanced outside through the miniscule window near the ceiling.
"Looks like a storm's coming. We can offer you a place for the night," the man offered.
"I'd hate to be a trouble," Maul replied patiently. "The sooner I can exact vengeance, the sooner I can put my mind at rest."
"Are you sure about that?" Owen asked, his expression saying something closer to 'are you insane?' "The sandstorms can get really bad…"
"I assure you, I'll be fine," the Sith replied, draining his cup of water before stepping back out into the night to slay Kenobi once and for all.
!0*0!
I was going to make Chapter 7 longer, but I totally ran out of time. I'm doing away with theme songs, because holy _, I need less to worry about. Finals start this Friday, I have the worst sore throat in my life, and I haven't updated in, like, a week. Don't expect the next chapter until August or something, because I'm totally swamped for the remainder of the summer. Yay.
Love it? Loathe it? Want to run out into the desert to murder me with a lightsaber and crush my friend's child's hopes and dreams? Then please, for the love of god, review, review, review. It doesn't take that long and it makes my day… Not that I'd know, because I never get reviews.
