Chapter Four: The Pool of Twilight

The Well of Creation was an enchanting grove of wild plant life surrounding a singular pool of crystalline water. Hewn stone encased the pool, hinting that a touch of civilization had once graced its otherwise natural beauty. There were no animals, no sounds other than the rustling of leaves in the wind. Serenity, pure and haunting, hung heavy in the air, a silent barrier against all who would dare intrude.

The three Jedi made camp by the pool and awaited the stroke of midnight, when, according to Mathassar tradition, a vision was to appear before those who took up the duty of guardianship. They spent the hours of daylight in their own ways.

Ran, ever restless and even more so now that he walked between light and darkness, tinkered with the lightsaber he had appropriated from the fallen Quelsar Sith. Its blade length was not to his specifications, and so he drew forth a small tool set from his utility belt and adjusted the beam apertures in the weapon. The process was time-consuming, for every lightsaber was built to its wielder; modifying it to a different swordsman was a difficult task.

Ascera sat in quiet contemplation at the pool's edge, careful not to let so much as the hem of her robes dance against the waters. She sat in silence, thoughtful and serene—a great and impenetrable mask to hide her own fears and doubts about Ran. They shared a bond, and that bond was being sorely tested by this mission. She sought guidance in the Force and hoped that a place so strongly concentrated in the light side would aid in her meditations. The future lay clouded before her seeking mind.

De-Lanna went through breathing exercises and meditative drills to soothe her wracked nerves. The intensity of the past few days—Ran's struggle with the dark side, her own confrontation with Tauth, the formidable powers of Darth Malice—had taken their toll. Sitting before the calming influence of the Well of Creation rejuvenated her spirit, and she was content to simply bask in its healing glow.

The daylight shed into twilight and further melted into darkness. De-Lanna's chronometer read midnight. She could feel the expectation in the air, radiating from her and her comrades.

They did not wait long.

Two identical sounds shattered the golden silence of the pool: snap-hiss. The three Jedi sprang to their feet, igniting their lightsabers. Red, white, and blue lances boiled forth, bathing the darkened grove in a glowing, ghostly milieu. From the depths of the forest strode Darth Malice, eerily resplendent in a black tunic and robe, his face hidden behind hood and mask. In his hands was a double-bladed lightsaber, twin blades fully extended, blood-red in their light.

No words were said; the Jedi stood against the Sith Lord in readiness. Time stood still. Darth Malice doffed his robe with an imperious, almost impatient gesture and twirled his deadly weapon in challenge.

Ran let out a roar and charged, slashing for the Sith Lord's head. The crackle of energy cut the stillness of the air like a knife. Serenity was gone. In its place was chaos. Ascera and De-Lanna watched at the sidelines for an instant before joining their comrade in the fray. The clearing before the sacred pool was awash in dancing lights, turning it into a battlefield of blinding color and shrieking sound.

Malice caught both Ran and De-Lanna's attacks with a single block and pushed their blades away from him. A swift kick sent the green-eyed Jedi sprawling to the dirt and an open, black-gloved palm hurtled a blast of Force energy into De-Lanna's chest. The brown-haired Jedi flew backward, smashing into a tree. Alone, Ascera frantically rallied her defenses against Malice's renewed assault. But The Twi'lek was no warrior—her skills with a blade were no match for the Sith Lord's. In desperation, she wrapped a nearby boulder with her mind and hurled it in his direction; Malice contemptuously sliced the impromptu missile with one end of his weapon while crushing Ascera's defenses with the other.

De-Lanna, having recovered from Malice's attack, leaped back into the fray, driving her white blade between the Sith Lord and her friend. She danced with the ferocious warrior to the fast and brutal melody of humming lightsabers. Each time their blades crashed together, the war song reached a crescendo, only to fall away as they parted. But with each parting, De-Lanna felt drained, a part of her vitality sapped. Malice was too great a swordsman; she could not possibly hold him off.

Ran returned to the field, his stolen weapon a flurry of crimson. He attacked Malice from behind while the Sith Lord fought De-Lanna and Ascera from the front. But their enemy was a godlike swordsman, and he defended both his front and rear with a wall of parries. Always, his double-bladed lightsaber was angled just so—stopping the attack from either side. A back flip put him behind Ran, setting all three Jedi in front. Malice resumed the assault in force and battered his younger opponents to their last vestiges of strength.

De-Lanna fell back, panting. "He's…just…too…strong," she groaned, her side aching from exertion. Her legs felt like lead. She dived to the side as the Sith Lord came at her. "Ran, Ascera!" she cried, "Buy me some time!" There was only one way that she could think of that would turn this losing battle to their side. But she needed a reprieve.

Her fellow Jedi assented, taking the fight to Malice with renewed vigor; they suspected her plan. Once Malice was consumed in his fight with them, De-Lanna closed her eyes and fell within the familiar patterns of her Nexus technique. Threads swirled around her, wrapping and curling around the future, holding it place. But the future resisted. She furrowed her brow in confusion—this had never happened before! Somehow, Malice was resisting the pull of her technique. Sweat beaded on her brow as she redoubled her efforts, forcing the future to bend to her will. A spring was loaded inside her, compressed to its smallest, ready to release its energy and return to its original conformation—that was the future. But she had to keep it compressed, had to keep it fixed. She prayed that it did not backlash at her.

Malice's foot slipped on a patch of loose dirt. Ran was all over him in a heartbeat, driving his lightsaber deep into his foul, black heart. The corpse fell to the ground and vanished.

"What?" the green-eyed Jedi wondered.

"An illusion," Ascera reasoned, "the supposed 'vision,' I expect. This place is truly strong in the Force to create something like that."

"A taste of things to come," De-Lanna commented crisply, not relishing the thought of doing battle with the Malice again.

It started to rain.

"Oh great," the brown-haired Jedi muttered tartly. "Now we'll be soaked too. Wonderful."

But the rain proved to be a blessing. It pattered against the ground, turning it into mud. It spilled upon the trees, refreshing them. It fell heavily like a hammer—a hammer that clanged against something large, metallic, and enormous. The rain curled around something great and spherical, revealing its invisible curves to the bewildered Jedi.

"By the Force," Ascera whispered, looking into the sky. "No wonder we couldn't find it. It was cloaked."

"We have to stop it," De-Lanna murmured softly. "If something that powerful gets out of the system, no one will be able to find it. It would be a disaster."

Ran said nothing, only looked upon the demonic creation in horrified awe.

They beheld the Poison Star.


Sitting beneath the sheltering leaves of the trees, the three Jedi discussed their next course of action. They knew that the Well of Creation was the Poison Star's energy source and furthermore, that Malice would come to claim the energy nexus. "We have to stay here," Ascera reasoned. "Yes, De-Lanna, I know that we're running the risk that the superweapon may be operational already, but we must trust in our information and in the Force."

De-Lanna sat back on her heels and consented to that logic. The Force had definitely given them what they needed, the location of the superweapon. Combined with their knowledge that the Well of Creation was its fuel source, the only sensible road lay in waiting. But an illusory Malice was terrifying enough. She had no desire at all to confront the real Malice again, not after he so easily crippled them before. Her skin trembled in remembered pain, but she dutifully steeled her will against her fear.

"Bring him on," Ran said grimly, his hand on his stolen lightsaber. "I'm not afraid of him or Tauth."

"Then you're being foolish," Ascera reprimanded heavily. "We can't go charging blindly in like you did against that illusion, Ran. We need a plan, an ambush. It's not pretty, nor is it very honorable, but let's face it—those two are out of our league. It would be sensible to grasp at any advantage."

"It seems to me that we have advantage enough," Ran countered. "We are in a place strong in the light side. Like the Jedi Temple, Malice will be weaker here."

"But remember," De-Lanna admonished, "Malice is an entirely different class than Tauth, Carm, or Leena. He's a full-fledged Sith Lord at the height of his power. No matter what, he'll still be stronger than any of us are. Not to mention that he has much more experience in combat than we have put together. He did, after all, wage a Sith war against the Mathassar Jedi."

"So what do you propose we do?" Ran asked, having capitulated to their thinking.

The brown-haired Jedi smiled. "We use the Force," she said coyly. "Against that illusion, I used my Nexus technique. It wasn't very effective at first. I'd imagine that against a true Sith Lord, I won't be able to pull it off at all—but if you two lend me your strength, along with the strength of the Well, I'll bet I can force Malice's defeat."

"It is risky," Ascera commented. "To do so would mean surrendering all our concentration to fueling your Nexus. That, of course, leaves us undefended and open to attack by Malice and any minions he might bring along."

"I already thought of that," De-Lanna replied. "But my Nexus can be adapted to a form of prescience. It will drain us all and probably leave us bedridden for a while, but we can use it to see into the future, force certain events to occur as we want it, and thereby impose defeat as a part of Malice's destiny."

"Sounds dangerous," the Twi'lek murmured. "You've never tried anything of this magnitude before. Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Not alone. But with your help, maybe. No, it has to work. We obviously can't handle Malice alone, much less with Tauth at his side. This is our only chance at defeating them."

Ran nodded and placed his full cooperation behind her. "I say we try it. Let's face it, Ascera. None of us—all three of us—can beat Malice. This is our only way."

"But not the best way," Ascera observed. Her headtails quivered in resignation. "Very well, we will do it your way, De-Lanna. It is, after all, the only way."

With that, the three Jedi seated themselves in a circle, facing each other. They closed their eyes and fell into a single, shared meditative trance. Their minds, hearts, souls melded into one amalgam. They could sense each other's fears, hopes, dreams, desires—their very beings were open to each other. De-Lanna shivered, having never experienced such intimacy before. She was afraid of it, but steeled her will once more—this was the only way. She would not back down from a path that she had revealed.

The threads of fate were in their hands—no, one hand, shared by three souls—and that hand gently guided destiny into a tapestry. A woof of threads. Malice and his entourage of Quelsar dark Jedi emerged from an ancient speeder, walking the rest of the way to the Well of Creation. A weave of threads. Malice cursed as the foliage tripped his minions. He slashed his way violently through the woods with his newly-crafted double-bladed lightsaber. Another woof. He strode boldly past the trees, found the three Jedi sitting in their meditation. He ordered his warriors to destroy them. A weave. The three Jedi broke free of their trance, surprising the Quelsar. In a heartbeat, six dark Jedi lay dead by the poolside.

Future and present began to merge, and the events happened in synchronization. The imposed future became present reality.

Ran leveled his lightsaber at an astonished and fuming Darth Malice. "It's over," he said gravely.

Malice growled back, "Put away your toy, boy, before you cut yourself with it. I will corrupt this pool as I corrupted that holocron! Its energies will be mine, and my Poison Star will soar through the spacelanes bringing terror and destruction to your stagnating Republic! The Sith will rule the galaxy once this pool is mine!" He ignited his double-bladed lightsaber and charged headlong at them. Ran and Ascera met him first, red and blue blades moving to flank the enraged Sith Lord.

De-Lanna hung back, eyes still closed, forcing her will upon the future. It grew harder now that she was alone, but they had progressed far enough along that she could manage the final moments leading to their victory.

Malice was ten times the ferocious and terrifying opponent the illusion had been. De-Lanna's friends were hard-pressed to simply maintain their defense. In a matter of breaths, seconds, instants, Ascera was thrown to the ground, her leg and arms burned by the touch of a lightsaber. Ran, facing the Sith Lord alone, fared even worse, with energy burns scorched across his flesh in a dozen places. De-Lanna threw her whole soul into her task. She had to end the fight quickly.

Again, the future resisted her will at the critical moment. With a scream and a burst of renewed energy, De-Lanna pushed fate in the direction she wanted. It fought back, but was no match for her.

Darth Malice, Dark Lord of the Sith, master of the Poison Star, felt the biting sting of Ran's foot in his chin. The physical blow was followed by the hiss of a lightsaber. Ran pulled his weapon free of his foe's belly and stood away. The corpse tumbled to the ground.

With a sigh of relief and contentment, an exhausted De-Lanna sank to her knees, her eyes lidded and dull. She felt Ran's thin, strong arms around her, easing her way to the soft soil. She fell asleep with a smile.

De-Lanna awoke around twilight the next day. Her head spun from the de-synchronization of her circadian rhythms. She sat up with a groan, only barely noticing the sleeping pallet she had been placed on. A small all-temperature foil tent had been erected around her, surrounding her in an invisible cloak of warmth against the chill Mathassi air. The tent flap flipped open and Ascera slipped in.

"You're awake," the Twi'lek observed happily, the first sign of genuine gaiety De-Lanna had seen on her blue-skinned face since the mission began. "Ran had me stay with you after you fell unconscious. He went and grabbed some supplies from our ship, using Malice's speeder to expedite travel."

"That explains all this," De-Lanna said. Suddenly, her belly rumbled. She blushed brightly. "Um…do you have anything to eat around here, by chance?"

As Ascera chuckled in reply, the tent flap opened once more. Ran entered. "What is that sound?" he wondered laughingly. "It sounded like a bantha's mating call." A thrown pillow was De-Lanna's only response. "I'm just kidding," Ran protested.

Though irritated at his antics, De-Lanna's soul smiled. He sounded like the old Ran again. Indeed, she did not sense the dark obsession that had clouded him. Destroying Darth Malice had healed his raging spirit, reaffirmed his belief in the Jedi way of life. She was glad for that.

"Here." The green-eyed Jedi threw a ration bar her way, which she consumed greedily and with gusto. "I'd make a joke about you eating like a mynock, but I don't want to get hurt again." De-Lanna flashed him a warning glare and he backed off. "Easy, there, easy," he said soothingly. De-Lanna harrumphed around her food and ignored him. But she had to bite back a smile while doing so.

De-Lanna swallowed the last of her ration bar and asked, "Where's Tauth? We killed some Quelsar and a Sith Lord, but that old man's still unaccounted for."

Ran turned grim, but De-Lanna still did not sense any burning anger, only determination. "We found a comlink on Malice's body," Ran said. "Ascera and I sliced into it and found its call history. Malice apparently left Tauth on the Poison Star to, and I quote, 'fire upon the planet if our efforts to secure the energy nexus fail.'"

"But I thought the superweapon couldn't work without the energy nexus."

Ascera shook her head. "Remember, it requires dark side energy to enter hyperspace—without it, it can only reach sublight speeds. Its weapons systems are powered by more conventional means. In other words…."

"…It's fully operational," De-Lanna finished. "Damn. So, do we know how to get inside it?"

Ran said, "We were planning on assaulting the hangar bay with our transport and just go in lightsabers blazing."

"Isn't that just a tad suicidal?" the brown-haired Jedi observed sarcastically, perturbed by her friend's audacity.

"The Poison Star is two hundred meters in the air right now," he explained. "We don't have any other way of getting in, at least not undetected. Again, it's the only course we really have. Like it or not, it's a straight-up running battle. Again."

"Remember how the last one worked out," De-Lanna reminded him.

"I know. We'll try and do better." He smiled winningly; De-Lanna just sighed. She suddenly pitied Ascera for having to put up with him all her life.


"Pull up, Ran!" Ascera shouted into Ran's ear. "Pull up!" In typically Ran fashion, the transport dove down. De-Lanna could hear the Twi'lek's enraged groan above the roar of ion engines. Their ship dipped and slipped across the surface of the cloaked superweapon, dodging the massive vessel's point-defense weaponry. Green bolts of energy slashed through the air, sometimes coming dangerously close to their ship. More than once on their wild ride, De-Lanna let out a scream of surprise when a laser bolt splashed against the ship's shields.

De-Lanna was unused to such turbulent flying. Though strapped tightly into the crash-webbing of her seat, she held onto her chair's armrests with a death-tight grip, fighting down the rising bile in her throat with sheer will and the Force. The ship dipped faster and then turned into a climb at gut-wrenching speeds. G-forces pushed against the brown-haired Jedi's chest, and she wondered if she were going to die.

Ran put the ship into a punishing spin, firing his own blaster cannons at the seemingly empty air ahead. There was an explosion as energy bolts tore apart the Poison Star's hangar bay doors. Now amidst the emptiness of the upper atmosphere was the dull gray metal of a docking bay, complete with Quelsar dark Jedi and droid pilots scurrying toward their starfighters. Ran opened fire once again, razing the defenseless warriors with red-hot energy. He settled the transport inside the docking bay and lowered the landing ramp.

De-Lanna thanked the stars that her digestive system was still in one piece. "Let's move!" she said, regaining her composure now that the ship was no longer moving. She burst free of her crash-webbing and, with her friends close behind, dashed down into the hangar, her lightsaber in hand. They had to be fast. Their audacious assault had not gone unnoticed, and there was no telling when they would be accosted. For now, they had the element of speed to keep them on their goal.

Ahead, the bulk doors leading out of the hangar slid open, a patrol of battle droids led by two dark Jedi marching against them. De-Lanna reached out with the Force, grabbing pieces of laser-ravaged scrap metal from the piles of destroyed starfighters. With a thought, she hurled them at the approaching enemy, taking down several of the fragile droids and scattering the rest. Ascera pressed the attack, cutting down the remaining droids with graceful ease. The two dark Jedi, astonished at the speed of the counterattack, fell to Ran's lightsaber before they could draw their weapons. The way cleared, the three Jedi delved deeper into the superweapon.

"According to the schematics," Ascera said, "we should be able to deactivate the Star's weapons systems if we go to the engineering level or to the weapons operations level. From what I could discern, engineering should be lightly guarded, but it would take us forever to find the right systems to shut down."

"Why not just blow the whole thing up?" Ran asked.

"The Star apparently has a self-destruct device, keyed so that any—shall we say, vulgar—handling of any ship system will result in a core meltdown."

"Those Sith do think of everything," the green-eyed Jedi quipped dryly.

They made for the turbolifts, intending to go to the weapons operations level before confronting Tauth. But the lift was guarded by two sentry guns, which opened fire on the Jedi as soon as they walked within range. They held off the torrent of blaster fire with ease, but they could achieve no more than a standoff; the sentry guns had their own shield generators, making deflected blaster bolts next to useless. De-Lanna decided to make her move. "Cover me!" With Force-assisted speed, she bolted down the hallway and struck one of the guns with her lightsaber, tearing through its shields and right into its main power cables. She spun and stabbed the other gun turret with equal fervor.

"Damn," she muttered, examining the turbolift. "Looks like its been sealed off. They're trying to lock us down."

Ran stepped up and stabbed his lightsaber into the turbolift doors, hacking them down. The shaft was empty, for the lift itself was several levels up. He took hold of a service ladder on the side of the shaft. "We're just going to have to do this the hard way," he commented lightly, hooking his weapon onto his belt and grasping a rung.

"Let's just hope the lift isn't flush with the walls," Ascera muttered, following. De-Lanna buckled her lightsaber and planted her foot on the ladder.

It took them almost half an hour to reach the weapons operations level, and by the time they clambered onto solid ground, their arms and legs were aching. Worse yet, a patrol of battle droids awaited them, having been sent to intercept them. De-Lanna cursed, bringing her lightsaber up to deflect the barrage of blaster fire.

"Forget these guys," Ran grunted, batting a bolt back at an attacker. "Cut them down and get to the computers!" The three charged ahead, tumbling and spinning, their weapons a coruscating blaze. Droids fell in droves before their ferocious onslaught. Soon, the weapons level was depleted of enemies. "We have to hurry," Ran said, already typing away at a nearby terminal. "We don't know how much time we have before another patrol arrives."

De-Lanna looked over his shoulder at the monitor. "Can you slice this?"

"I can try."

Ascera slipped into the seat next to him, joining him in his efforts. "I'll try and locate Tauth and any troops he's sending our way. You handle deactivating the weapons systems." Suddenly, the Twi'lek let out a yelp. "We have more droids coming our way. De-Lanna, hold them off."

The brown-haired Jedi nodded and stood before the main entrance, her white-bladed lightsaber firmly in her grasp. The doors opened and immediately her vision was swathed in scorching energy beams. She parried the attacks with the grace of a trained Jedi, her blade spinning and dipping to catch the colored bolts. She sent most of them back at her assailants, dropping several foes in the process. She broke her guard for a moment, extending an open palm; a group of droids fell apart, blown to bits by the Force. Then there were no further enemies to destroy. She had held the line.

"How goes it?" she asked her friends.

Ran looked back at her with a roguish smile and gave her a thumbs-up. "Main cannons and point-defense turrets are offline. Let's go get Tauth."

"He's on the command deck," Ascera announced. "And I have full control over the turbolifts. We should be able to get there without any problems." Her brows narrowed in concern. "Tauth has at least four dark Jedi with him—probably the last of the Quelsar Sith left on the planet. It's going to be a tough fight."

"This whole mission hasn't exactly been a walk in the park," De-Lanna told her wryly. "I wasn't expecting any easy routes. As it is, storming this place has gone far better than I could have hoped, wild scheme that it is."

"Hey," Ran said merrily, "why complain if it's going well?"

On that note, the three Jedi summoned a lift and rode it all the way up to the command deck.