Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior
By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)
DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.
CHAPTER 10
Malakie sat back and observed with great interest as the stars came back into view, the streaking lines of hyperspace now behind them. His first trip beyond lightspeed had been an eye-opening experience. In hyperspace, his Force senses were distorted and he had to meditate for hours to keep from going insane. He was so used to the thought patterns of the Dathomir system, of the guards and prisoners, and even of the soldiers in orbit above the planet. Hyperspace, however, allowed him to access a myriad of thoughts and feelings as they tore through the dimensional barriers between star systems.
The pilot of the Lambda-Class shuttle easily handled the controls and Malakie noted that his mother still snoozed quietly in the co-pilot's chair. The real co-pilot had been of particularly strong will and it wasn't until after Malakie had killed him that his enthralled pilot explained that they were TIE pilots on temporary duty. It seemed that Zsinj's fleet was about to rotate several ships out for some other command in exchange for something called a Super-Class star destroyer. None of it meant anything to Malakie, as Dathomir was nothing more than a memory now.
His mother had guided him in the selection of ship and crew; the four stormtroopers in the cargo area were of low willpower and Gethzerion had whispered something about imperfect clones. Malakie knew what clones were and knew that the Empire used them from time to time to fill their ever-increasing security needs. That Zsinj had some and that he was losing ships to another command spoke volumes about what the Empire was up to.
Zsinj's mind had details about the Death Star but the scope and complexity of it made it beyond Malakie's education. He simply could not appreciate what the battle station represented to the galaxy. Even if he did, though, he would not pay it a second thought. His mother had informed him of the spirit of a long dead Sith that had contacted her through the Force. Exar Kunn, once a great Dark Lord, was trapped in spirit on the fourth moon of Yavin. He wanted to train Malakie in exchange for the youth's aid in getting him a new body. Only after Gethzerion had extracted a dark promise not to turn on them had she agreed.
Malakie still did not trust the shade, but there was no place else for him to go. Exar Kunn was a true Sith, having spent thousands of years perfecting the dark arts. Only he could possibly instruct Malakie in the ways of the Force.
Dathomir had ended up becoming somewhat of an embarrassment for Emperor Palpatine Malakie was learning. Several secret files had been made available to him through the hypernet as he applied his knowledge of Zsinj's command codes. Originally, the plan had been to have the Witches of the planet, dark side sorceresses, produce an army of Force-talented warriors. Unfortunately, between Malakie killing off potential male rivals and the seemingly unnatural high birthrate of females, the project was deemed a failure. Palpatine, it appeared, found it difficult to deal with Force-adept women, which made Malakie wonder exactly what his relationship and control over Darth Deceptra was.
There were secret orders dated a year before basically giving Zsinj free reign over the world. He could do with it and its inhabitants whatever he wanted. It seemed that Zsinj had been perfectly happy allowing things to go as normal, but as time went on, Malakie was sure that would change.
Eventually, the Witches would become a thorn in his side and he would have them destroyed. Perhaps with his death that was no longer a likely scenario. Malakie doubted that Palpatine was ready to entrust such power in the hands of Palleon.
Malakie did not care about the welfare of the Witches so much as he knew that eventually they would be a pool for him to pull operatives from. He had ambitious plans, plans as grand as Exar Kunn's he was sure. Unlike Palpatine, though, Malakie did not so much want to rule the entire galaxy, just a small piece of it. He wanted the freedom that power offered and he was willing to swallow a little pride and submit to the spirit of Exar Kunn in order to get it.
Unlike Palpatine, Malakie realized his limitations. "Tycho," Malakie said in slow deliberate words. Controlling a mind got easier as time went on, as the consciousness accepted domination. At the very first, though, Malakie had to be very careful and treat his thrall with a velvet touch. With proper training, he would not have to do such things he was sure.
The pilot turned his head. "Yes, sir."
"How does this ship scan for life signs? Human life signs?" Malakie had stretched out with the Force towards the jungle moon, but the alien wildlife was simply too alien for him to screen out. He did not understand the techniques required to pinpoint a target he knew nothing about. He sensed the Dark Side on the planet, beckoning him, but it seemed to come from everywhere, not one single location. "I want to ensure that we are alone."
The pilot flipped some switches and a small screen on the console flared to life. It's blue-white screen cast an odd shadow across Malakie's face. "Unfortunately, there appears to be some in-system jamming. That could mean many things, however."
"What is the worst case scenario?"
The pilot thought about it and Malakie felt the mind resist him. He added some slight pressure through the Force. Finally, Tycho answered. "For us, the worst case is a secret Imperial research station or a Rebel outpost of some sort." Malakie noted the true concern in the pilot's response.
The rebellion against the Empire was growing in power and size. Malakie had read from a press release that immediately after the dissolution of the Imperial senate, Garm Bel Iblis, a political powerhouse, had declared himself and agent of the newly formed Rebel Alliance and had commandeered several Imperial vessels for his own fleet. That was interesting but Malakie saw no way, given the number of ships and troops the Empire had, that the Alliance could ever hope to topple the government.
Though he hated Palpatine with all of his black heart, Malakie held no illusion that some rebel hero was going to defeat him. Palpatine was a Sith and the Sith were all-powerful. There were no more Jedi, so the only way for a Sith to be removed from power was for a more powerful Dark Lord to take his place.
"Bah! Rebellions! Malcontents with dreams of power is all they are," Gethzerion said as she woke up. Malakie waited for his mother to sit up straight before answering her.
"Even so, mother, if they were to discover us, no doubt they would kill us," Malakie said. It was what he would have done.
"You don't understand what an idealist is my son," she cackled. "These rebels dream of sharing power with the masses. We have had many of their ilk deposited in the prison over the years."
"If you desire to share power, then you do not deserve it," Malakie said. "To be forced to share is one thing, but to actually want to? It leaves a bad taste in my mouth."
"Sir," Tycho said, pointing to another screen. "We have two ships coming in on an intercept course. The targeting computer identifies them as Z-95 Headhunters."
Malakie liked the name. "Potential allies?"
Tycho shook his head. "The Empire no longer uses those vessels, sir, not even on the most outlying planet. You can find them in planetary defense forces, pirate groups and the…"
"Rebel Alliance," he finished. Malakie nodded, understanding that a problem had just arisen that he wasn't sure how to deal with. He turned to his mother. "I could try to penetrate their minds, let them think that they have destroyed us or simply kill them."
Gethzerion shook her head, her eyes in a wild stare. "You might fool the pilots, but not the ground control." She flipped on the weapons controls to start charging the laser cannon capacitors. "Better to fight."
"We can't outmaneuver those fighters," Tycho confessed. "They are too nimble and scans show they're armed with concussion missiles."
A true Sith would have been able to send the missiles back to their owners, but Malakie didn't have such ability and he doubted his mother did either. Gethzerion, despite her awkward appearance and mannerisms, was actually quite strong in the Force, but her potential was unrealized. Life on a savage world had trained her to be savage in her ability. She was the club used to swat a gnat; Malakie wanted to become the smallest instrument necessary to do the same thing. He wanted to be like his father. "Can we make them think they have damaged us and them have a controlled landing?"
Tycho thought about it. "That will be very hard to do in this flying box, sir. In a TIE Fighter, yes, I could do it; this crate is another story. The Lambda-class was not meant to be a combat vessel. We can take a lot of damage, too. Those pilots probably realize that and I wouldn't be surprised to see a Y-Wing come up real soon…there!" he suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the threat screen. "The idea is to have the headhunters bring down our shields. The Y-Wing has an ion cannon and will disable us."
"Then the rebels or pirates can take the shuttle as their prize," Gethzerion finished, nodding. "An excellent way to build up a star fleet."
"Yavin is far from the normal trade lanes so just about any vessel that ends up here is running from something," Tycho added. He cast a glance at Gethzerion. "Those weapons are likely to irritate them."
"Do you have any better options?" Malakie asked. He found this Tycho Celchu to be a most interesting individual, strong of will, but not too. "Is there another way to get us on the moon safely?"
Malakie sensed the answer before it was spoken, but allowed Tycho to say it aloud for the benefit of Gethzerion. "I propose we act as if we are wanting to join up. If its pirates, they won't suspect treachery with an old woman on board." Gethzerion hissed at the description. The truth was she was barely into middle age, but the Dark Side was aging her rapidly. "If it's the rebels, as I strongly suspect, then we should have even less problems."
Malakie considered it for a moment and decided they had no other choice. Regardless of how, he needed to get down on the surface and any time wasted in space fighting a worthless battle was time he could ill afford. "You will need to communicate with them?"
Gethzerion smiled. "I will plant a suggestion in the flight leader's mind. Watch my son and learn."
She hummed to herself and stared out the viewport as two tiny specks of light drew ever closer. Suddenly the one on the right veered away and started heading back to moon. "Lambda-class shuttle, this is Gray Seven, you are cleared to land at the coordinates I'm tight-beaming to you."
Tycho answered back. "Thanks," he replied and then looked over at Gethzerion who flashed a green-toothed smile. "Glad we were able to find you."
There was a pause then a new voice came over the loudspeaker. It was a female one and the instant Malakie heard it, he felt strange. Even as the woman continued on, Gethzerion leaned over and whispered into his ear. "The Force is strong in this one!"
"…has relayed that you wish to defect and turn over your vessel to our cause. Is that correct, pilot?"
"Yes," Tycho answered as a single Z-95 streaked past. The Y-Wing was still slowly approaching and Tycho noted that they were now being scanned. He arched an eyebrow and muted his transmitter. "They've got some heavy-duty scanners onboard that Y-Wing. That's custom-grade stuff, better than what is on here."
"Obviously these rebels are better supplied than the Empire realized," Malakie said.
Gethzerion made a rude noise. "They are children! Be mindful of both the Force and your thrall, my son. If there is someone strong in the Force on this world besides your master…"
Malakie understood and used the Force to probe a little further into Tycho's brain. Deep within it he found that small piece of resistance that every sentient possessed. Instead of beating it down, as he had with Zsinj, he tried Palpatine's method of soothing suggestion. The effect was better than with Zsinj and Tycho soon fell into silently piloting the shuttle. Embedded in his brain were the specific instructions Malakie had placed there.
After a few minutes, he had done the same thing to the stormtroopers onboard, ensuring that should he need aid, it would only be a thought away. As he had concentrated, his mother had gotten behind him and was braiding his hair into a long ponytail as she often did. He allowed her to do it only because the ponytail was practical. "Mother, you say these rebels are children, yet I am to be wary of them."
"You have hunted before, yes my son? You have hunted both man and beast, tracking them through the Force, smelling their fear. These rebels, despite all of their bravado, are fearful." She sighed. "Fear has many uses, but it can also be a powerful weapon. A cornered animal fights stronger than one that can flee. The Empire is hunting these rebels down and soon they will be cornered. It is then they will do their most damage."
He accepted her explanation without any comment. Instead, he tried to reach out to the spirit of Exar Kunn, to inform him that he was ready. No answer came in reply, but Malakie had expected that. He would have to prove himself worthy of being a disciple of Kunn and a test, no doubt, was being set up now. Perhaps it was Kunn's spirit that had alerted the rebels to their entrance to this system.
Carefully the son of Darth Maul would have to tread in the coming days. Their escape from Dathomir had not gone off without a hitch and it was only a matter of time before the truth was revealed. The only Nightsister's name that was known to Palpatine was Gethzerion and if she were not attending her duties on the prison world, then all hell would break loose.
Eventually, he supposed, the Empire might track them, but he doubted it. He was an unknown quantity, right now, and he guessed that it was Kunn's dark magic that was keeping Palpatine from feeling Malakie's pull on the Dark Side. From the corner of his eye he regarded his mother, humming to herself and braiding his hair. She was his largest liability and yet he felt somehow obligated to keep watch over her.
He had no love for his mother as they both fed off of each other. She provided him with the path to knowledge, he gave her strength. Still, in all of his years, his mother had been his counsel and his only link to his father. In that respect, she had real worth to him and that was why he tolerated her. He hoped that she could pull off the helpless old woman act for the rebels and not launch into one of her frenzies. Malakie was strong in the Force, but not invincible. The presence he felt on the planet had weakened his stomach and he knew it to be of the Light Side, the weak side.
He was not ready. He was not yet the warrior he could be. But that would soon change under the tutelage of the ancient Sith master. His improvement would be measured in days, not years, he silently swore; he would be his father's son. He would be the one to sever the head of the adulteress bitch Darth Deceptra and feed it to her bastard son! Then, he and Exar Kunn, in a body Malakie would secure for him, would tear the flesh from Palpatine's hide for his sins against the Sith and then…
And then the true New Order would begin.
"I can't believe we're being shut down," the technician said, kicking at his toolbox. His companion, a burly man who had once been an Imperial commando before losing the left side of his face, nodded. The metallic prosthetic devices flashed with the overhead lights as he did so. "A shame…a real shame…"
The younger man said a few curse words and pulled some more wires out of the console they were working on. "I mean the Empire still needs cryogenic prisons, right? Am I right?"
The big man shrugged. "Not if they kill all of the prisoners."
From under the console came a sarcastic reply. "Stupid jarhead! You can't kill everyone. I mean…damn it I don't want to go to the Death Star! I want to stay here."
"Imperial Center is nice this time of year," the larger one said with a chuckle. He wasn't being shipped off and would instead retire here, working dismantling the entire building, stripping it of parts. "We'll miss ya!"
A sudden curse and then the tech slipped out from under the console. "Tell me what junction XT-345-Y was connected to! I just cut the damn wire and it was live!"
"The pad says it was prisoner refrigeration unit J, Alpha level. That puts it under what the old Naboo senator quarters were. Probably some plants or a frozen Gungun."
"What's a Gungun?"
The man with the metal grin shook his head. "Nerf! They was a species that lived on Naboo, too. They is all dead now I guess."
"Yeah, like the Naboo," was the reply. The younger man scratched his head. "You think we should go down there or maybe tell someone?"
"We ain't cleared to go down there and I ain't telling. Cutting the wrong wire is a demotion in grade."
The younger technician shook his head. Even if the loss of power turned on the thawing system, it would be pointless. Alpha level was sealed off to everyone without clearance from the Emperor himself. Why there was such a fuss over what had been the Naboo Museum and Counselor Station he didn't know or care. Chances were that all he did was kill the prisoner.
Stormtroopers were moving about, watching the workers and standing next to cryogenic chambers. As they opened, the stormtroopers open fire, killing the prisoners. It was all part of some urban renewal project headed by Darth Deceptra and her attaché Commander Isaard. Hundreds of kilometers of Imperial Center were being demolished to be replaced by who knew what.
The two techs decided to leave well enough alone and went back to their duties.
