Chapter V - Revenge of the Jedi
Today's lesson was on levitation. To reduce the risk of injury or something being broken the Osmonds had cleared anything not nailed down out of the living room and provided pillows and cushions as test items. Each child had two pillows, and their goal was to stack one atop the other using only the Force. A simple theory, but apparently the kids were still having trouble grasping the concept -- either that or they had finally realized Anakin was harmless and were pushing the boundaries as far as they could. Some were stealing their neighbor's pillows and causing quarrels; others thought it great fun to raise their cushions and drop them on other students' heads. Occasionally a Padawan would get carried away and his pillow would smack into the ceiling. The Skakoan, Kendo, seemed to be having difficulty managing the exercise, for he was constantly levitating other things by accident -- other students' pillows, other students, and, on one hilarious occasion, a resigned Master Skywalker.
"Sorry, Master Skywalker," he said plaintively as Anakin got back to his feet after being dropped on his armored derriere.
"That's okay, Kendo," Anakin told him. "Relax and try again. You'll get it eventually."
Jason and Patrick, watching from the doorway, weren't so sure.
"I guess we should be glad this hasn't escalated into a pillow fight," Jason whispered.
"Yet," Patrick added ominously.
The holocomm beeped to the tune of "Imperial March." Jason went to answer it.
"Osmond residence, Jason speaking."
Luke's image blipped into view. "Hi, Jason. I can't reach my father at home or work. Is he at your house?"
"Just a minute." He turned back to the living room. "Anakin, it's Luke!"
"Class is dismissed," Anakin told the Padawans just as a pillow got snagged on one of Luno's horns and ripped open, resulting in an explosion of white as feathers filled the air. The children shrieked in glee and began running through the blizzard.
"Oh, for the love of -- you kids go play outside!" Jason snapped, herding the pack outside. "I'll call Steve and Emily over to keep you entertained. Yo Pat, where's the vacuum cleaner?"
"You broke it last week, remember?" Patrick reminded him.
Jason swore and stomped around the living room, picking up pillows and spitting out goose down.
Need help so soon, son?" asked Anakin with a chuckle, turning a dial to clarify Luke's image.
"Actually, I do," Luke replied. "I have a rather sensitive question to ask."
"Fire away. I'm a man, I can handle it."
Luke hesitated. "Did you, during the Purges, ever kill a Kruvexian Jedi?"
Anakin considered. Sensitive question indeed. He didn't dare contemplate his time as a Sith for too long at a time for fear he'd go mad with guilt. But he forced himself to think on the question. It could provide Luke with valuable information.
"When Palpatine gained emergency powers over the Galactic Senate, there were fifteen Kruvexian Jedi Masters, Knights, and Padawans in the Order," he replied. "Four of them died of natural causes. Three were killed in the Clone Wars. Stealth troopers killed five. Three were captured during one of the Empire's attacks on Kruvex, and of those three the Emperor murdered one personally, and another wounded me and escaped, only to commit suicide hours later. The last... I killed."
Luke's expression indicated he regretted the question, but he kept his voice businesslike. "Do you remember the name?"
"Zorn. Zorn the Swift. Metallic copper skin and blue eyes. Quite the athlete, I remember, and as indicated by her last name a fast runner. Kruvexian surnames are not indications of bloodline but testaments of personal talents and attributes." He cocked his head. "She was the second oldest child of Kruvexian Emperor Pothar the Wild and given up to the order as a three-year-old. When her father and elder brother died she was given the option of ruling Kruvex but instead abdicated to remain a Jedi."
"So she was royalty," Luke mused. "Did she take a Padawan?"
"Yes, a human, but he died in the Wars."
"Anything else?"
"Jedi who were members of an endangered species were allowed to marry, and after the first Imperial attack on Kruvex Zorn qualified. She took a soldier in the Kruvexian Army as a husband and had a child by him, a boy if my memory serves me. It is not known if she trained him."
"What happened to him?"
"No one knows. He is presumed dead."
Luke became very thoughtful. "I believe we've found the son of Zorn the Swift."
"You think he's behind the siege?"
"We've used the information we've accumulated so far to put together a profile of the pirate leader. All the pirates wear the Royal Crest of Kruvex, so we assume their leader's Kruvexian. A Mandalorian warrior we captured admitted their order was working for him and that he was male and you killed someone close to him. She was killed via the Force before we could probe her further, so her employer has had some degree of Force training."
"Put it together, you have Zorn's get," Anakin noted. "And he's out to avenge his mother's death. That still doesn't explain why he picked that hunk of nothing to harry."
Luke smiled mischievously. "Now are you glad you have a guard?"
He snorted in reply. "So far all they've done is annoy my landlady."
"All the same, please be careful. This is a dangerous situation now that we know a Force- user's involved."
Anakin nodded. "I'll be careful, but only if you promise the same."
Luke laughed. "I'll try. I need to go now. May the Force be with you."
"Goodbye, Luke." He cut the transmission.
Patrick arched an eyebrow. "What's a Kruvexian?"
"A telepathic alien," he explained. "Generally between two and three meters tall, with red or brown hide and a warrior-type disposition. Take Thrax off of 'Osmosis Jones,' give him better teeth and glowing eyes, and you have the general idea."
Patrick whistled. "Ugly."
"They probably think the same of us, so don't say that to their face. Though I doubt you'll ever run into one. Only about three hundred survived the Purges, and almost all of them live on Kruvex."
Jason stamped into the kitchen, covered in feathers and brandishing a pillow like a weapon.
"No reward is worth this!" he snapped, throwing the cushion on the kitchen counter. "I dunno how Luke does it, but I'm about ready call it quits! Those brats are wrecking the place like chimpanzees on crack!"
"Jason, it's for a good cause..." began Patrick.
"I get up this morning to go to the bathroom and they've filled the toilet with tadpoles," Jason snarled, ignoring his brother. "My computer mouse has teeth marks in it from that Trandoshan kid. Someone threw up on my Boba Fett armor and it's gonna take weeks to get the smell out. I've been hit and kicked and bit and slobbered on and Jedi mind tricked. And now Mrs. Albany's flower bed looks like banthas stampeded through it, and guess who's gonna have to pay damages?!"
"Luke will reimburse all expenses," Anakin assured him.
"I can't take it anymore!" Jason screamed. "Steve and Emily are outside with the little trolls, and thank the Force 'cause I'm not going out there!"
"Look, Jason, I know you're frustrated..." began Anakin.
Jason cranked up the radio. "It's my favorite song," he growled.
"Don't drown me out..."
"Let him alone, Anakin," Patrick advised.
"But he hates Air Supply!"
"Just let him work it off. He'll cool off soon. He always does."
Boba Fett wanted many things. He wanted the media to bug off and leave him alone. He wanted the crazy obsessed Fett worshippers to bug off and leave him alone. But most of all, he wanted to go get a hamburger in peace.
Good luck trying that in Star City between conventions when you're a Star Wars character.
"It's Boba Fett!" a table-full of 501st members announced the minute he, Liz, and Naomi entered Jack in the Box.
"Ignore them," Liz advised.
"Easier said than done," Fett hissed as three of them mobbed him, demanding autographs.
"Sign my Topps card!"
"Sign my napkin!"
"Oops, I don't have any paper. Uh, sign my shirt!"
"Back off!" Liz shouted. "Can't we have some privacy!"
Naomi decided to chase the geeks off by screaming quite loudly. Seeing that they'd disturbed her, they immediately backed off.
"Stang," Fett growled, trying to calm her.
"No, it wasn't them," Liz told him.
"Then why is she screaming?"
"Inhale deeply."
He did so. "I... see. Who's turn?"
"Yours."
He took the diaper bag from her and disappeared into the bathroom.
Liz looked around for a place to sit, but the only open table was in the back, with Brigham nursing a milkshake and talking on a cell phone nearby. He didn't seem to notice as she slipped in across from him.
"Mom, let's not go through this again," he moaned. "I know I've been back from my mission for ten years now. I can count. But give me a little time, okay? The right girl just doesn't fall off a tree, y'know." He took another sip of shake. "So what if Hyrum got married six months back from England? I'm not Hyrum, am I?"
Liz smiled as she listened. Brigham's mom was one of the most overbearing women she'd ever met.
"Girls like returned missionaries? Hmm. News to me. Maybe being a geek counteracts that. What? WHAT?! Don't tell me you told HER to call me! Believe me, after that prom fiasco? She won't approach me without a biohazard suit on!"
"Hi, Brigham."
"Look, Mom, I'll call you back later, okay? No, no, I'll call you." He hung up. "Aaarrgghh! Moms!"
"You're talking to one."
"I'm sure you'll be a great mom, Liz." He sighed. "Beautiful baby, by the way. Wish I had one."
"Aw, you'll find a girl someday." She watched as Fett left the bathroom and tried to negotiate his way past a pack of rabid geeks. "Did you know Naomi came from the same planet Luke's on right now, and her birth parents were killed by the pirates he was sent to stop?"
"No, I didn't. That's really sad." Then he realized that probably wasn't the proper thing to say. "Well, sad for her parents, but good for you, so you have your own child... uh, change of subject! What planet's Luke on, anyway?"
"Sorry, we're sworn to secrecy."
"Can't you even give me a hint?"
"It's not Earth."
"Well, I knew that. Who'd want to attack this rock?"
It would be a simple matter, Krad mused, to simply strafe Colorado with the Executor's turbolasers to ensure Vader's demise. He gave a slight smile of pleasure at the thought. The Dark Lord would never know what hit him. But no, such an action would also leave thousands more dead. Not that he had much sympathy toward any world that would harbor such a base being. He just found it inconvenient to leave too many bodies.
He stared at Earth's Eurasian continent from the viewport, silent, contemplative. The stormtroopers on the Executor claimed Vader had turned from his deadly ways, had rejoined the light. Krad wasn't convinced. He couldn't accept that one who had fallen so low, committed so many crimes, shed so much innocent blood, could be redeemed so easily and even become a Jedi Knight.
And he could never forgive him for murdering his mother.
A loud cackle indicated a few of the clone soldiers were amusing themselves with some idiotic joke. He smirked. How appropriate that his base of operations was none other than Vader's Stardestroyer, and that Vader would meet his undoing aboard this very vessel if all went well. It was only fitting that the ship and those sworn to protect the Sith Lord would be his doom, just as the Empire, which had promised Kruvex protection, had instead offered only slaughter and cruelty.
He tugged at the sleeve of his armor, covering the numbers cauterized there that would never entirely fade away. He had been a scant four years old that terrible day, when the Empire had launched the second in its long series of attacks and massacres on Kruvex. By then the Jedi Order had been in shreds, its members retreating to various worlds for safety. Several Kruvexian Jedi had returned to their homeworld to assist what was left of its government and military in defending it.
He never knew his father -- he had died shortly before Krad's birth. But Zorn had been a loving mother, gently correcting him when he erred, comforting him when something frightened him. She had even shown him the ways of the Force, teaching him to perform simple tasks such as summoning animals or lifting small objects.
Scholars said that Kruvex had possessed a savage beauty in its prime, with architectural wonders rivaling those of more pleasant worlds like Alderaan and Naboo. Krad had never seen that beauty -- the Kruvex he remembered lay in ruins from the Emperor's first, devastating attack. The people had lived in caravans on the stony lava fields, avoiding the crumbling cities. Yet they still had retained hope that, one day, they would have a chance to rebuild their world.
That chance never came. In its second attack the Empire had rounded up the Kruvexian people, assigned them numbers, and packed them into prison camps. Krad and Zorn had ended up in a specially designated camp for anyone of standing in Kruvex's society -- the royal family, soldiers, military officers, prominent citizens, artists, and the three remaining Kruvexian Jedi. None of the camps had been hospitable in the least, but Krad and Zorn's was by far the most brutal, with its prisoners subjected to frequent torture at the hands of stormtroopers.
Krad shut his hazy gray eyes and trembled, remembering the searing of force-whips, the impact of fists, the agony of scanner grids and other interrogation equipment. They had beaten him until he couldn't scream anymore, then beaten him more. The force-whips had flayed his back down to the flesh, and he would always bear the deep, ragged scars. How he had survived he didn't know, for he learned later that the same Imperials who had abused him had beaten one of Kruvex's top athletes to death.
At last the Empire had forced the remaining populace to look on as Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader publicly executed the remaining prisoners, one by one. Zorn, still bleeding from a deep gash across her face, had shielded Krad's eyes every time a death took place. He thanked her memory, but the screams were still fresh in his mind.
When it came Zorn's turn to face the Sith, she had gone bravely, without the slightest hint of fear. Palpatine, still gloating from having killed one of the Jedi, had allowed Vader to execute her. But before he could deal the blow, Zorn had produced her lightsaber seemingly from nowhere and attacked the black-armored Sith. Taken quite by surprise, Vader sustained a deep gash in his chest before he could gather his wits enough to fight back.
Krad gripped the hilt of his mother's saber, the smooth horn handle a comforting touch. Yes, she had fought well that day. All Jedi were accomplished warriors, Zorn among the best. But she had been no match for two Sith. A blast of the Emperor's Force lightning had driven her to her knees, and Vader's scarlet blade had found her heart.
The rest of that day was a blur. Later he learned the crowd, seeing the Sith were by no means omnipotent, had rioted, leading to a messy battle that had left thousands of Kruvexians and stormtroopers dead, the last Jedi dead by his own hand, and Vader so seriously wounded that it was several weeks before he could return to his duties. Somehow in the commotion a former pilot in the Kruvex Armada had found him and whisked him off the planet. And somehow he had ended up in possession of Zorn's horn- handled, silver-bladed lightsaber.
He stared at Earth again, clutching the saber until his knuckles went white and he could feel the blood throbbing in his fingers. His thoughts pounded in time with his pulse, filling him with grief and rage. The same thoughts that had rampaged through him that fateful day, that had crushed a four-year-old boy under their weight, that had driven him to exert control over his Force abilities and exact revenge.
/You hurt me, Vader/ he hissed. /You hurt me. You killed my mother. You destroyed my planet. You hurt me./
The Force screamed through him, flowing easily at his command. It seemed to obey him more readily at times like this, when his pain and anger were at this white-hot crescendo.
/You hurt me. You have blood on your hands. The blood of my mother, my people, the Jedi, thousands of souls. Blood that can never be washed away./
/You hurt me, Vader. For that, you will pay with your heart's blood./
But first he had to get Luke Skywalker out of the way. The Jedi was fiercely protective of his father and purposefully ignorant of the man's crimes. And though Krad detested stooping to Vader's level, it was necessary in this case.
He turned and motioned to Fangs, and the stormtrooper muttered a quick "Excuse me" to his comrades and hurried toward him.
It was time to accelerate his plan.
Today's lesson was on levitation. To reduce the risk of injury or something being broken the Osmonds had cleared anything not nailed down out of the living room and provided pillows and cushions as test items. Each child had two pillows, and their goal was to stack one atop the other using only the Force. A simple theory, but apparently the kids were still having trouble grasping the concept -- either that or they had finally realized Anakin was harmless and were pushing the boundaries as far as they could. Some were stealing their neighbor's pillows and causing quarrels; others thought it great fun to raise their cushions and drop them on other students' heads. Occasionally a Padawan would get carried away and his pillow would smack into the ceiling. The Skakoan, Kendo, seemed to be having difficulty managing the exercise, for he was constantly levitating other things by accident -- other students' pillows, other students, and, on one hilarious occasion, a resigned Master Skywalker.
"Sorry, Master Skywalker," he said plaintively as Anakin got back to his feet after being dropped on his armored derriere.
"That's okay, Kendo," Anakin told him. "Relax and try again. You'll get it eventually."
Jason and Patrick, watching from the doorway, weren't so sure.
"I guess we should be glad this hasn't escalated into a pillow fight," Jason whispered.
"Yet," Patrick added ominously.
The holocomm beeped to the tune of "Imperial March." Jason went to answer it.
"Osmond residence, Jason speaking."
Luke's image blipped into view. "Hi, Jason. I can't reach my father at home or work. Is he at your house?"
"Just a minute." He turned back to the living room. "Anakin, it's Luke!"
"Class is dismissed," Anakin told the Padawans just as a pillow got snagged on one of Luno's horns and ripped open, resulting in an explosion of white as feathers filled the air. The children shrieked in glee and began running through the blizzard.
"Oh, for the love of -- you kids go play outside!" Jason snapped, herding the pack outside. "I'll call Steve and Emily over to keep you entertained. Yo Pat, where's the vacuum cleaner?"
"You broke it last week, remember?" Patrick reminded him.
Jason swore and stomped around the living room, picking up pillows and spitting out goose down.
Need help so soon, son?" asked Anakin with a chuckle, turning a dial to clarify Luke's image.
"Actually, I do," Luke replied. "I have a rather sensitive question to ask."
"Fire away. I'm a man, I can handle it."
Luke hesitated. "Did you, during the Purges, ever kill a Kruvexian Jedi?"
Anakin considered. Sensitive question indeed. He didn't dare contemplate his time as a Sith for too long at a time for fear he'd go mad with guilt. But he forced himself to think on the question. It could provide Luke with valuable information.
"When Palpatine gained emergency powers over the Galactic Senate, there were fifteen Kruvexian Jedi Masters, Knights, and Padawans in the Order," he replied. "Four of them died of natural causes. Three were killed in the Clone Wars. Stealth troopers killed five. Three were captured during one of the Empire's attacks on Kruvex, and of those three the Emperor murdered one personally, and another wounded me and escaped, only to commit suicide hours later. The last... I killed."
Luke's expression indicated he regretted the question, but he kept his voice businesslike. "Do you remember the name?"
"Zorn. Zorn the Swift. Metallic copper skin and blue eyes. Quite the athlete, I remember, and as indicated by her last name a fast runner. Kruvexian surnames are not indications of bloodline but testaments of personal talents and attributes." He cocked his head. "She was the second oldest child of Kruvexian Emperor Pothar the Wild and given up to the order as a three-year-old. When her father and elder brother died she was given the option of ruling Kruvex but instead abdicated to remain a Jedi."
"So she was royalty," Luke mused. "Did she take a Padawan?"
"Yes, a human, but he died in the Wars."
"Anything else?"
"Jedi who were members of an endangered species were allowed to marry, and after the first Imperial attack on Kruvex Zorn qualified. She took a soldier in the Kruvexian Army as a husband and had a child by him, a boy if my memory serves me. It is not known if she trained him."
"What happened to him?"
"No one knows. He is presumed dead."
Luke became very thoughtful. "I believe we've found the son of Zorn the Swift."
"You think he's behind the siege?"
"We've used the information we've accumulated so far to put together a profile of the pirate leader. All the pirates wear the Royal Crest of Kruvex, so we assume their leader's Kruvexian. A Mandalorian warrior we captured admitted their order was working for him and that he was male and you killed someone close to him. She was killed via the Force before we could probe her further, so her employer has had some degree of Force training."
"Put it together, you have Zorn's get," Anakin noted. "And he's out to avenge his mother's death. That still doesn't explain why he picked that hunk of nothing to harry."
Luke smiled mischievously. "Now are you glad you have a guard?"
He snorted in reply. "So far all they've done is annoy my landlady."
"All the same, please be careful. This is a dangerous situation now that we know a Force- user's involved."
Anakin nodded. "I'll be careful, but only if you promise the same."
Luke laughed. "I'll try. I need to go now. May the Force be with you."
"Goodbye, Luke." He cut the transmission.
Patrick arched an eyebrow. "What's a Kruvexian?"
"A telepathic alien," he explained. "Generally between two and three meters tall, with red or brown hide and a warrior-type disposition. Take Thrax off of 'Osmosis Jones,' give him better teeth and glowing eyes, and you have the general idea."
Patrick whistled. "Ugly."
"They probably think the same of us, so don't say that to their face. Though I doubt you'll ever run into one. Only about three hundred survived the Purges, and almost all of them live on Kruvex."
Jason stamped into the kitchen, covered in feathers and brandishing a pillow like a weapon.
"No reward is worth this!" he snapped, throwing the cushion on the kitchen counter. "I dunno how Luke does it, but I'm about ready call it quits! Those brats are wrecking the place like chimpanzees on crack!"
"Jason, it's for a good cause..." began Patrick.
"I get up this morning to go to the bathroom and they've filled the toilet with tadpoles," Jason snarled, ignoring his brother. "My computer mouse has teeth marks in it from that Trandoshan kid. Someone threw up on my Boba Fett armor and it's gonna take weeks to get the smell out. I've been hit and kicked and bit and slobbered on and Jedi mind tricked. And now Mrs. Albany's flower bed looks like banthas stampeded through it, and guess who's gonna have to pay damages?!"
"Luke will reimburse all expenses," Anakin assured him.
"I can't take it anymore!" Jason screamed. "Steve and Emily are outside with the little trolls, and thank the Force 'cause I'm not going out there!"
"Look, Jason, I know you're frustrated..." began Anakin.
Jason cranked up the radio. "It's my favorite song," he growled.
"Don't drown me out..."
"Let him alone, Anakin," Patrick advised.
"But he hates Air Supply!"
"Just let him work it off. He'll cool off soon. He always does."
Boba Fett wanted many things. He wanted the media to bug off and leave him alone. He wanted the crazy obsessed Fett worshippers to bug off and leave him alone. But most of all, he wanted to go get a hamburger in peace.
Good luck trying that in Star City between conventions when you're a Star Wars character.
"It's Boba Fett!" a table-full of 501st members announced the minute he, Liz, and Naomi entered Jack in the Box.
"Ignore them," Liz advised.
"Easier said than done," Fett hissed as three of them mobbed him, demanding autographs.
"Sign my Topps card!"
"Sign my napkin!"
"Oops, I don't have any paper. Uh, sign my shirt!"
"Back off!" Liz shouted. "Can't we have some privacy!"
Naomi decided to chase the geeks off by screaming quite loudly. Seeing that they'd disturbed her, they immediately backed off.
"Stang," Fett growled, trying to calm her.
"No, it wasn't them," Liz told him.
"Then why is she screaming?"
"Inhale deeply."
He did so. "I... see. Who's turn?"
"Yours."
He took the diaper bag from her and disappeared into the bathroom.
Liz looked around for a place to sit, but the only open table was in the back, with Brigham nursing a milkshake and talking on a cell phone nearby. He didn't seem to notice as she slipped in across from him.
"Mom, let's not go through this again," he moaned. "I know I've been back from my mission for ten years now. I can count. But give me a little time, okay? The right girl just doesn't fall off a tree, y'know." He took another sip of shake. "So what if Hyrum got married six months back from England? I'm not Hyrum, am I?"
Liz smiled as she listened. Brigham's mom was one of the most overbearing women she'd ever met.
"Girls like returned missionaries? Hmm. News to me. Maybe being a geek counteracts that. What? WHAT?! Don't tell me you told HER to call me! Believe me, after that prom fiasco? She won't approach me without a biohazard suit on!"
"Hi, Brigham."
"Look, Mom, I'll call you back later, okay? No, no, I'll call you." He hung up. "Aaarrgghh! Moms!"
"You're talking to one."
"I'm sure you'll be a great mom, Liz." He sighed. "Beautiful baby, by the way. Wish I had one."
"Aw, you'll find a girl someday." She watched as Fett left the bathroom and tried to negotiate his way past a pack of rabid geeks. "Did you know Naomi came from the same planet Luke's on right now, and her birth parents were killed by the pirates he was sent to stop?"
"No, I didn't. That's really sad." Then he realized that probably wasn't the proper thing to say. "Well, sad for her parents, but good for you, so you have your own child... uh, change of subject! What planet's Luke on, anyway?"
"Sorry, we're sworn to secrecy."
"Can't you even give me a hint?"
"It's not Earth."
"Well, I knew that. Who'd want to attack this rock?"
It would be a simple matter, Krad mused, to simply strafe Colorado with the Executor's turbolasers to ensure Vader's demise. He gave a slight smile of pleasure at the thought. The Dark Lord would never know what hit him. But no, such an action would also leave thousands more dead. Not that he had much sympathy toward any world that would harbor such a base being. He just found it inconvenient to leave too many bodies.
He stared at Earth's Eurasian continent from the viewport, silent, contemplative. The stormtroopers on the Executor claimed Vader had turned from his deadly ways, had rejoined the light. Krad wasn't convinced. He couldn't accept that one who had fallen so low, committed so many crimes, shed so much innocent blood, could be redeemed so easily and even become a Jedi Knight.
And he could never forgive him for murdering his mother.
A loud cackle indicated a few of the clone soldiers were amusing themselves with some idiotic joke. He smirked. How appropriate that his base of operations was none other than Vader's Stardestroyer, and that Vader would meet his undoing aboard this very vessel if all went well. It was only fitting that the ship and those sworn to protect the Sith Lord would be his doom, just as the Empire, which had promised Kruvex protection, had instead offered only slaughter and cruelty.
He tugged at the sleeve of his armor, covering the numbers cauterized there that would never entirely fade away. He had been a scant four years old that terrible day, when the Empire had launched the second in its long series of attacks and massacres on Kruvex. By then the Jedi Order had been in shreds, its members retreating to various worlds for safety. Several Kruvexian Jedi had returned to their homeworld to assist what was left of its government and military in defending it.
He never knew his father -- he had died shortly before Krad's birth. But Zorn had been a loving mother, gently correcting him when he erred, comforting him when something frightened him. She had even shown him the ways of the Force, teaching him to perform simple tasks such as summoning animals or lifting small objects.
Scholars said that Kruvex had possessed a savage beauty in its prime, with architectural wonders rivaling those of more pleasant worlds like Alderaan and Naboo. Krad had never seen that beauty -- the Kruvex he remembered lay in ruins from the Emperor's first, devastating attack. The people had lived in caravans on the stony lava fields, avoiding the crumbling cities. Yet they still had retained hope that, one day, they would have a chance to rebuild their world.
That chance never came. In its second attack the Empire had rounded up the Kruvexian people, assigned them numbers, and packed them into prison camps. Krad and Zorn had ended up in a specially designated camp for anyone of standing in Kruvex's society -- the royal family, soldiers, military officers, prominent citizens, artists, and the three remaining Kruvexian Jedi. None of the camps had been hospitable in the least, but Krad and Zorn's was by far the most brutal, with its prisoners subjected to frequent torture at the hands of stormtroopers.
Krad shut his hazy gray eyes and trembled, remembering the searing of force-whips, the impact of fists, the agony of scanner grids and other interrogation equipment. They had beaten him until he couldn't scream anymore, then beaten him more. The force-whips had flayed his back down to the flesh, and he would always bear the deep, ragged scars. How he had survived he didn't know, for he learned later that the same Imperials who had abused him had beaten one of Kruvex's top athletes to death.
At last the Empire had forced the remaining populace to look on as Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader publicly executed the remaining prisoners, one by one. Zorn, still bleeding from a deep gash across her face, had shielded Krad's eyes every time a death took place. He thanked her memory, but the screams were still fresh in his mind.
When it came Zorn's turn to face the Sith, she had gone bravely, without the slightest hint of fear. Palpatine, still gloating from having killed one of the Jedi, had allowed Vader to execute her. But before he could deal the blow, Zorn had produced her lightsaber seemingly from nowhere and attacked the black-armored Sith. Taken quite by surprise, Vader sustained a deep gash in his chest before he could gather his wits enough to fight back.
Krad gripped the hilt of his mother's saber, the smooth horn handle a comforting touch. Yes, she had fought well that day. All Jedi were accomplished warriors, Zorn among the best. But she had been no match for two Sith. A blast of the Emperor's Force lightning had driven her to her knees, and Vader's scarlet blade had found her heart.
The rest of that day was a blur. Later he learned the crowd, seeing the Sith were by no means omnipotent, had rioted, leading to a messy battle that had left thousands of Kruvexians and stormtroopers dead, the last Jedi dead by his own hand, and Vader so seriously wounded that it was several weeks before he could return to his duties. Somehow in the commotion a former pilot in the Kruvex Armada had found him and whisked him off the planet. And somehow he had ended up in possession of Zorn's horn- handled, silver-bladed lightsaber.
He stared at Earth again, clutching the saber until his knuckles went white and he could feel the blood throbbing in his fingers. His thoughts pounded in time with his pulse, filling him with grief and rage. The same thoughts that had rampaged through him that fateful day, that had crushed a four-year-old boy under their weight, that had driven him to exert control over his Force abilities and exact revenge.
/You hurt me, Vader/ he hissed. /You hurt me. You killed my mother. You destroyed my planet. You hurt me./
The Force screamed through him, flowing easily at his command. It seemed to obey him more readily at times like this, when his pain and anger were at this white-hot crescendo.
/You hurt me. You have blood on your hands. The blood of my mother, my people, the Jedi, thousands of souls. Blood that can never be washed away./
/You hurt me, Vader. For that, you will pay with your heart's blood./
But first he had to get Luke Skywalker out of the way. The Jedi was fiercely protective of his father and purposefully ignorant of the man's crimes. And though Krad detested stooping to Vader's level, it was necessary in this case.
He turned and motioned to Fangs, and the stormtrooper muttered a quick "Excuse me" to his comrades and hurried toward him.
It was time to accelerate his plan.