—Chapter 27: Getting Through—
"All is ready. All is perfect Darkness. The ritual of Bak Thu'ul has begun. Our only task now is to ensure its successful completion."
"The essence transfer is under way? We've reestablished contact with the Naboo chapter then?"
General Malsus, the general in charge of the Black Dragons' paramilitary forces, shook his head slowly. "Naboo remains unresponsive, but that is how it must be. The other chapters stand ready, and must proceed as planned. It is incumbent that the essence transfer not be disturbed, which is the task I set to you."
"I understand, my lord. My forces shall patrol the temple," said the lieutenant, followed by a brief pause. "And what of the fleet? I have heard rumors that the ships are powering up."
"The fleet is not your concern, lieutenant," said the general. "Your only responsibility is the temple defense."
"Of course."
The general eyed his subordinate coolly, debating how much more he needed to impart. "There is an outside chance that the Republic is aware of us," he said. "We must be prepared for anything—this ritual must succeed. You must be prepared."
"Yes, my lord, understood," said the lieutenant with a crisp bow, before hurrying away to see to his duties.
General Malsus watched him go. He had long ago given up a connection to his corporeal flesh, in exchange for the spiritual immortality of the Dark Side, but even so, he could still sense the imagined tingling of his own nerves, alight with the anticipation of witnessing the culmination of decades of tireless work. He had had his moments of doubt—not doubt in the success of the mission, but doubt that his own spirit could withstand the toil that was required to see it through. Yet he had persevered, and now it was all but done. Soon, he would see the fruit of those efforts. Soon, Darth Sidious would rise again.
The Black Dragons had been hidden away for so long. Even at the Empire's peak, they had always existed behind the scenes, seemingly extinct to all but those most dedicated to the Dark Side. A shadow army not to be deployed except in moments of greatest need. They had spent decades, centuries covertly infiltrating all the major worlds and organizations, creating a network of support poised to act when the time was right. Galactic governing bodies. Planetary bureaucracy. Organized crime. In every hall of power, hiding somewhere behind every influential body, there was a shadow. Their shadow. And now, at the end of all of that slow toil, that shadow would soon have a form of its own, able to step out into the light and bathe the galaxy in its darkness.
It had come to this point not without difficulty. There had been hurdles. The First Order had clawed its way out of the ruins of the Empire. Rudderless generals and legions of power-hungry fools rose up, technologically savvy, but helmed by Dark lords too weak to call themselves Sith. They had no faith. No understanding that at the heart of the Empire was a being far greater than any mere figurehead. They believed the Emperor's death was really his end, but mortals have no vision, no patience for the eternal. Rather than fall back and allow the Republic to become complacent and overconfident, the First Order kept fighting, keeping the Republic on its toes, keeping it relevant.
Since the fall of the First Order, the rise of the democratic Republic had made the Black Dragons' mission all the more challenging, even as they were in the final stretch of realizing their goals. The Republic, wary of the same missteps that had allowed the First Order to gain a foothold, was more watchful. It was their interference that had forced greater caution when doing business in the galactic black markets. On Nimban, Sith acolytes had been forced to detonate an explosive stockpile at the Hutt outpost in order to shield the Black Dragons from discovery.
Then there were the setbacks securing a new host body. The original Skywalker whelp had been created to be an ideal receptacle for their master's essence, but a strong spirit is both a blessing and a curse—the vessel rebelled, as did its offspring, casting Sidious's spirit into Chaos for a time. So patience, once again, was needed, until such time as their master's spirit was back under his control, and a suitably unguarded descendant had emerged. After Nimban, and the fear that the Republic was closing in, their master could no longer safely wait for his ideal host body to present itself voluntarily—he'd had to be drawn out.
And then there was the woman. At long last, Darth Sidious's spirit was rising, and the host vessel had been located, but she stood as an impediment to their access that none could have predicted. But like so much else in the galaxy, with enough patience and resourcefulness, she too was overcome. She had been neutralized, and the ritual was now under way.
The general stepped through the threshold, into the vast chamber at the heart of the temple, and beheld his lord, laid out as if in holy sacrament upon the altar at the base of the crystal. Surrounded by clerics, energies from across the galaxy were being channeled into his new host body. It was only a matter of time.
Soon, all traces of the Skywalker would be erased, and their lord, Darth Sidious, would be born anew.
—
For this trip, there was no arguing about who was or wasn't allowed to come along. Poe, Finn, Finnie, Temiri, Malfi and Ren followed Chewbacca onto the Millennium Falcon without question. Each of them had earned their seat on the freighter, and Rey was grateful to have them with her. No one was about to point fingers at anyone else to suggest that they didn't deserve to be involved.
Chewbacca graciously took the second mate position in the cockpit, inviting Rey to take the helm. Poe and Finn were in the storage bay, rummaging around in the lockers, taking stock of their supplies, and the others were strapped in around the dejarik table in the lounge.
"So how does it feel to have been reinstated?" asked Finn.
Poe sighed. "It's bittersweet," he said. "It feels good to be back in the fold, but I can't shake the guilt at knowing that my own unreliable-ass behavior is what led to them not being able to trust me in the first place."
"If it makes you feel any better," offered Finn, "I still technically outrank you, and I didn't know about the operation either. My own unreliable ass has been getting the kid gloves for months now…"
Poe pursed his lips. That Finn had also been gradually, quietly cut out of important Republic business came as little consolation. For Poe, it wasn't just that he'd been left in the dark, it's the knowledge that he actually had been given important missions for the Republic, but, since he didn't know any better, he'd handled them recklessly, and set the Republic back. During the briefing regarding the Republic's interest in Malachor, he learned that the Republic had been tracking a pattern of reports from various planets that black market activity was on the rise. Specifically, black market activity involving the kind of contraband that wouldn't raise abnormal suspicions if it were just isolated shipments here or there, but when considered as a whole, galaxy-wide phenomenon, could signal the creation of the kind of military technology banned by the Republic. The kind of technology created by the Empire, and augmented by the First Order.
He hadn't been privy to the reasons for his missions—they were 'need to know', and he didn't—but the Nimban outpost had been at the center of an investigation into black market activity connected to 'unknown entities' based somewhere in the northeast quadrant of the Outer Rim. Knowing what he knew now, he understood that his fuck up on Nimban had cost the Republic more than just the Hutts' liquor supply. That little setback had probably cost them a window into the identities and motives of a much larger enemy—the very enemy that had taken Ben, that had taken Temiri's arm, and had taken Simeon's life. The very enemy they were seeking now.
Had he not let himself slide so far, he would be worlds better prepared to help his friends in this moment.
"What are you thinking about?" asked Finn. Poe had been staring off into a corner.
"Oh! Nothing, sorry. Just… still reeling from my sudden reinstatement, that's all," said Poe.
"Yeah, well, when this is over, I think we both need to work a little harder. Our bosses have been going easy on us. Let's make sure we earn our titles from now on, eh?"
"Yeah, definitely. When this is over."
—
As the Falcon settled into its course along the Corellian Trade Spire en route to Malachor, Rey took a moment to stare into the smear of stars filling her field of view. They'd have a little bit more route hopping to do before getting on the Perlemian Trade Route, the final and longest leg of their trip, but for now, she had some time before she needed to do anything else. They had a destination, and at this moment, for Rey, that was enough.
For now, she could breathe. With a wink and smile at Chewie, she pushed herself out of her seat and made her way leisurely to the back of the cockpit. Walking through the bulkhead passageway, over the smuggling compartments, and into the lounge, she found Ren spellbound by a game of dejarik being played by the girls.
"You got me again?!" shouted Malfi in disbelief.
"I told you, if you leave your K'lor'slug open like that, I'm going to stomp him, plain and simple," said Finnie. "I know you know the rules—I'm not going to go easy on you."
Malfi stuck her tongue out at Finnie, and the three of them laughed. It was lovely seeing them get to act a little bit like kids. Rey was almost envious.
"Where's Temiri?" she asked, sorry not to see him among the others, and hoping he wasn't off moping somewhere.
Finnie looked up from the game table. "He's in his bunk. Said he wanted to study up on Malachor a bit before we got there. I tried to tell him he wasn't cramming for a test, that he should just relax a little, but I think he thinks that is relaxing."
Rey smiled sweetly at her. "He's always loved history," she said, agreeing. Rey made her way through the lounge, tousling her son's hair as she passed him. In the bunks, she found Temiri, just as Finnie had said, laying down in the middle bunk, holopad in hand and engrossed in reading.
"Can I interrupt you?" she asked, taking a seat on the bottom bunk. "I feel like this is the first moment since I woke up that I don't have a million other things keeping me stressed out and harried."
"You mean you're not completely stressed out right now?" he asked, sounding surprised. "We don't know what we're about to face, and we know next to nothing about how to help Ben, if he's even there. I feel incredibly stressed…"
Rey sighed, taking his point, but feeling relatively at ease all the same. "For the moment," she said, "we've done all that we can. Ben will either be there, or he won't, and what we'll do next depends entirely on things we won't know until we get there. But we have a destination, and everything else will happen as it happens. We're ready for it. I feel… content… just knowing that we're moving in the right direction."
"Hmm, well, that's something, at least. You'll have to forgive me though, if I don't feel like I'm necessarily ready to face whatever comes at me. I felt that way before, and, well… the word 'overconfident' comes to mind," he said, screwing up his mouth a bit.
She could feel his embarrassment, his shame at his missteps. She knew he'd been arrogant, and a poor judge of character, of facts. But he knew it too, and this was progress. "Temiri," she said, reaching over her shoulder to lay a hand on his arm, "I'm so proud of you, do you know that?"
He let his holopad fall backward onto his stomach. Staring at the underside of the topmost bunk, he answered her with unconcealed incredulity. "You're proud of me? Have you not gotten the whole story from everyone yet? You understand that I'm a…" he paused, weighing just how he wanted to say this to her, "…a complete fuck up, right?"
The sadness and regret poured off of him in waves. He'd been forgiven by the others, but he hadn't forgiven himself. He might not ever, fully. She squeezed his arm a little tighter. "I know exactly what happened, Temiri. And I know you feel regret for what you did. You fell far, but… but you came back. And you're doing exactly what is necessary to set it right."
Temiri was barely holding himself together as he spoke. Rey could feel him shaking under her hand. "How can I… ever set it right, Rey? I killed my… my father! What sort of monster does that? Simeon said what you're saying too—that I need to work to redeem myself. And I'm doing what he said because… because Simeon was never wrong about anything, but… but I just don't know what thing I could do that would ever fix what I've done."
"Temiri," Rey whispered gently, patting his arm lightly, "how much do you know about Ben?"
Temiri swallowed, regaining his composure a bit. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I know he used to be on the Dark Side, if that's what you're getting at. So did Simeon, sort of. I mean, I guess he was… He was one of the Knights of Ren. I know they both understand the sort of… negative emotions that drive someone to do terrible things. But I doubt their definition of 'giving in to hatred' would necessarily include, fucking, patricide," he stammered.
"Temiri…" she said, pausing. "Ben killed his father too. Right in front of me. His father was pleading with him to come home, and Ben, he… he stabbed him right through the chest with his lightsaber. It was like time stopped… I screamed so loud at him. I tried to kill him for it."
"Ben… killed his father?"
Rey's eyes shimmered as she recalled the painful memories. "Yes, Han Solo. Ben killed him. I loved Ben's father like he was my own. At the time I knew him, I didn't know he was Ben's father. I didn't know Ben was Ben, even. I only knew him as Kylo Ren at that point. Kylo Ren, he… he did a lot of bad things."
Temiri was mystified. "But after you learned who he was… you still… you still forgave him? Fell in love with him?"
Rey understood how crazy that sounded. "It's not as if that happened overnight, you know," she said, jostling him lightly. "It took a while. The Force intervened, bonding the two of us together, so that little by little, I began to understand him. I could understand how he'd become Kylo Ren, and what had happened to him after that to twist him even further. Don't go thinking you're the only one in the galaxy who's fallen for manipulation…" she said, taking a long breath.
"And even after I fell in love with him, I hadn't forgiven him," she said. She turned in her seat on the bunk so she could face him. They'd been staring at opposite parts of the room before now, but for this point, she wanted to see him, and to see him seeing her. "I didn't forgive him for a long time. Until this very moment, in fact, I didn't realize that I had."
He looked desperately into her eyes, quivering with his regret. Her eyes, however, were like stone. Unwavering. Solid.
"But, as it turns out, I have forgiven him, Temiri. I forgive him because of the life he's built on top of the ashes of his former self. For the kind of man he is now. For the father he's grown to be. For the teacher, the mentor, and the role model he is to you. And for the husband he is to me. I forgive him because I know that every day, he wakes up with a resolve to pay back his debt—to be a better man than he was yesterday. I forgive him because I know he'll never forgive himself."
A solitary tear loosed itself from Temiri's glistening eyes, and the breath he'd been holding suddenly released, sucking new air into his oxygen-starved lungs.
"I don't expect you to forgive yourself, Temiri. But I'm proud, because I know that today, you are a better man than you were yesterday. I don't know if you'll ever be able to forgive yourself, but I believe you'll find peace, happiness even, if you stay on this path. There is a lot of good you can do."
Temiri's lungs and diaphragm were still not under his control, but as Rey shifted to get up from the bunk, he seized her hand and held her there, capturing her with his gaze. She looked kindly back at him, squeezing his hand before pulling her fingers gently out of his grasp and slipping out of the bunk room.
As their journey to Malachor continued on, every creak, every groan of metal, every door swishing its way open or closed, sounded like thanks in Rey's ears. In every smile, she thought she saw Temiri's face, as his gratitude echoed on and on inside her head.