Chapter 5 – New Sith Order
"Aw, c'mon, why can't I go?" demanded Trapper from his perch on the kitchen counter as Luke strapped on his blaster holster and clipped his lightsaber to his belt.
"It's too hazardous," Luke replied. "Jason mentioned that the Sons of the Sith might be involved in this. And whether or not they're actually dark-side users, they're dangerous. You're staying here until your dad gets home."
Trapper humphed grumpily. Luke couldn't blame the boy, actually. He knew what it was like to have his desires to experience true adventure quashed. But now that he was older and had actually had more than his share of "adventure," he could see where Uncle Owen was coming from. This project was far too dangerous for a nine-year-old boy.
"If I can't come with you, why'd you wake me up in the first place?" Trapper demanded.
"To let you know where I would be," Luke replied. "It shouldn't take long. Besides, your dad will be home in a few hours…"
"And he'll probably freak out when he finds you've disappeared," Trapper shot back.
"All the more reason for you to stay behind," Luke told him. "So you can let him know."
A car horn blared, and Luke went outside, Trapper still dogging his heels. They made an odd pair at the moment, Luke thought – he back in his Rebel fatigues, Trapper in droid pajamas and slippers.
"Get back in the house, Trapper," Luke ordered.
"I can help you out!" he insisted. "I can guard your back…"
Luke opened the passenger door of the Church's Toyota, taking a seat beside Vader. "Look, Trapper, I know you want to have an adventure with Luke Skywalker, but you can't come! It's too dangerous! This isn't a game or a movie – it's real. You could be seriously hurt…"
Trapper scrambled into the back seat. "Rachel gets to come. Why can't I?"
"Rachel!" Luke exclaimed, turning around. Sure enough, the little girl was curled up and asleep in the back seat, still clutching Mori the Wookie.
"She's not coming with us," Vader told Trapper. "I'm dropping her off with your father. Her parents are not home…"
"Dad's not home either," Trapper replied. "He had a late meeting."
Vader made an exasperated snarling sound before replying. "Take her in the house, Trapper. If you want to be of use to us, watch her. I've already left a message at her parent's house stating that she will be here…"
"I can watch her just fine back here," Trapper shot back. "C'mon, I won't even get out of the car!"
Luke sighed. "All right, you win. But you'll do exactly as we say. Got it?"
"Yes sir!" Trapper barked, saluting.
Vader steered the Toyota back onto the road, handling the vehicle pretty well for someone who'd only been driving Earth cars for a few days. "I do not approve of bringing children on this escapade," he said irritably. "It's a recipe for disaster."
"I don't like it either," Luke replied. "But when you stop and think about it, maybe it's for the best. Austin, Conrad, and Diana trust us with their kids. I think they'd be happier knowing we were around them than if we'd left them alone at Austin's house."
"I still think it's unwise," Vader rejoined. "There's no telling what can happen with a hard-headed brat underfoot."
"I'm not a hard-headed brat, you cranky old-fart cyborg!" Trapper retorted.
"What did you call me!" bellowed Vader, craning his neck around in an attempt to glare at the boy.
"Shut up both of you!" Luke ordered. "We're going to need to cooperate if we're going to rescue Boba Fett. Let's try to be civil for however long it takes."
Vader turned back around to keep an eye on the road. "Spoiled brat," he muttered.
"Tin-head," grumbled Trapper, sticking his tongue out at the back of Vader's helmet.
Luke closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. This was going to be a long rescue mission…
/Luke./
His eyes flew open. What was that? It sounded suspiciously like another voice, one that had addressed him last on Dagobah, commanding him to face and destroy his father… but it couldn't be…
/Luke./
"Obi-wan?" he said in the faintest whisper.
/If you seek to rescue Boba Fett, do not go to the service station. You'll only be wasting your time. Go to the Historic Lodge on White Deer River. You'll find him there. Be quick… and be very careful./
He turned to relay the order to Vader, but either his father had received a similar message or he'd been eavesdropping on Luke's conversation. He abruptly made a U-turn and began heading away from downtown Star City.
"Hey, where you going?" demanded Trapper. "Granite Street's the other way!"
"Fett's not there," Vader replied. "He is at the Historic Lodge."
"The old lodge?" Trapper inquired. "They boarded that place up years ago!"
"Which makes it a perfect place for the Sons of the Sith to meet," Luke said, catching on. "If no one else goes there, they'll be undiscovered."
Vader turned off the main road and navigated the Toyota down a deeply rutted dirt road. "What disturbs me is what Fett is doing among such scum. He has told me several times that he has no intention of believing in the Force, and that all who claim to follow it are simply fanatics."
"Maybe there's a bounty out for their leaders," suggested Luke.
"That does make sense," Vader agreed. "But we will have to act with stealth. I know from experience that those who work in secret will do anything to see their work remains secret."
"Can the hard-headed spoiled brat make a suggestion, Darth?" asked Trapper.
"What suggestion?"
"If you wanna be stealthy, turn off your headlights," Trapper advised. "Or else they'll see you coming a mile away."
"Very well." He deactivated the lights. "I can use the Force to navigate."
"Now are you glad you brought me along?" Trapper said with a huge grin.
"Don't get cocky," Luke advised. "Or you may find yourself walking home."
Break…
The old White Deer Lodge had been declared unsafe and closed seven years ago, when a group of Boy Scouts had fallen through the termite-infested floor and sued the Park Service. Called "the town's worst safety and fire hazard" by most of the locals and regular visitors, the only reason the building hadn't had a date with a bulldozer yet was the ongoing lawsuit the Star City Historic Society was waging against the city, fighting to restore the lodge. While politicians raged and citizens complained about the eyesore, visiting fans occasionally broke in to leave their signatures on the graffiti-plastered walls, resulting in about five emergency room visits every year.
Fett took careful note of the locations of windows and alternate exits as he entered the building. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect here, but it behooved him to ensure that he had a quick way out if the worst occurred.
About twenty-five men and women, ranging in age from fifteen to sixty and garbed in costumes representing either Star Wars villains or dark versions of hero characters, clustered in groups all around the lodge, carefully avoiding gaping holes in the floor. There was nothing here to indicate a stereotypical image of a cult – no runes or symbols on the walls, no lit candles, no incense, no weird chanting, no altar or pulpit. Someone had set up a stereo system in one corner to play music from the Star Wars soundtrack, and a fire glittered in the fireplace for the first time in years. If Fett didn't know better, he'd say this was nothing more than a midnight meeting of any ordinary fan club.
A hand clamped on his shoulder, and he turned to see a Darth Maul lookalike smiling pleasantly at him, an unnerving sight all by itself.
"You must be Robert," the false Sith noted. "Our newest recruit."
Fett nodded.
"We're very happy to welcome you to the brotherhood," he said in a voice as smooth as velvet. "I'm Sith Master Ramirez, and it is my duty to welcome and tutor our newest Padawans."
"I'm eager to learn," Fett replied, feeling an odd chill go up his spine. They were calling him Padawan already… and he'd sworn to never get involved with Force-users.
"I must ask you to come this way," Ramirez told him, taking him by the arm and leading him toward a curtained-off alcove.
"Why?" he demanded, the hair on the back of his neck rising.
"For the cleansing," he replied.
A forty-something Asian woman in silvery-black Jedi robes motioned him behind the curtain. "All right, undress," she ordered in a no-nonsense tone. "Down to the shorts."
He glowered at her.
"C'mon, I've raised five boys and have been married three times," she snapped. "I'm sure I won't see anything new."
Reluctantly he shed the armor, bodyglove, and all accompanying hardware, leaving only the helmet and his undergarments. "Done."
"Helmet too," she ordered.
"Helmet stays."
"Helmet off."
"Helmet stays."
"Don't make me fight you to get it off."
"Bring it on, lady."
"Fine, it stays," she snorted, then picked up a bowl of scented water and wiped his entire body down. Tossing the cloth aside, she motioned for him to clothe himself again.
"What's the point of the cleansing?" he asked as he dressed.
"Eh, nothing symbolic," she replied casually. "Just a convenient way to search the new recruits."
"For weapons?"
"Wiretaps. The police're always trying to send their undercover boys in; we have to plug the leaks somehow."
That made sense. There wasn't much in the way of recording equipment one could unobtrusively fit in their shorts. What most would take as a ceremonial act was actually a creative means of ensuring the Sons of the Sith's activities remained a secret.
When he stepped out of the alcove, Ramirez led him toward a folding table that had been set up before the fireplace and draped with a scarlet-and-black cloth. Laid out in a neat row were six sets of surgical tools – sterile knives, hypodermic needles, plastic-wrapped gauze bandages – all gleaming eerily in the flickering light. Fett felt his stomach clench. He'd experienced a lot of gruesome stuff in his life and never flinched, but somehow this was far worse, even though he'd seen nothing in the line of blood yet. Somehow he got the feeling that he was jumping into a pool whose depths he hadn't tested yet.
This was unknown territory to him, and it unsettled him deeply.
Ramirez escorted two more recruits to the table, then took his place among the other members. On Fett's left hand stood another Vader impersonator who looked as skittish as an unbroken kaadu, shifting from one foot to another as if swaying in the breeze. On his right was a young woman, thin to the point of being skeletal, with stringy platinum-blond hair pulled back at the temples and a black leather dress that resembled one Padme had worn in "Attack of the Clones."
"Enter Sith Leader Darth Quinzain," announced the woman who had cleansed Fett. "All salute!"
As one those gathered placed their fists over their hearts. Fett copied the maneuver as the skunk-haired man he'd met at the convenience store strode toward the fireplace, halting before the three recruits and passing a hand over each one's head.
"At ease, my students," he purred. "The dark side of the Force smiles upon you for choosing the strength and power it offers. Today you will begin your training in the arts of the Sith, beginning with being matched to an appropriate Master."
Three members stepped forward at Quinzain's gesture. Fett recognized one as Polowski and another as the Sith-Tusken from the store; the last was a copy of the Emperor's Hand Mara Jade.
"Darth Johnson, Darth Polowski, and Darth Hainsworth have been chosen to serve as your personal instructors," Quinzain explained. "Tonight, at this ceremony, you will be bonded to your master – with a bond of blood."
/This is it/ Fett thought, preparing for the inevitable. Now they would bring out the cat and perform a blood sacrifice. He formulated a plan in his mind – he would charge whoever was bringing Vincent in, snatch the animal, and fire a few shots to stir things up. During the ensuing chaos it would be a simple matter to dive out the window…
"Each of you Padawans will take a knife," Quinzain went on. "You will use it to draw blood from your arm. Your selected Master will do the same. Darth Ramirez will then collect a measure of your blood and your Master's. You will inject yourself with your Master's blood, and your Master will do the same with your blood. In this way you will be bound, Master to Padawan, instructor to learner… and in this way you will be bound to the New Sith Order."
"Question!" the blond recruit demanded in a loud, obnoxious voice that indicated that she wasn't entirely in control of her faculties. "Haven't you people heard of AIDS?"
"I can assure you, madam, that disease is no concern," Quinzain replied slickly. "If the dark side approves of you as an apprentice, then it will ensure that you live. If it disapproves… it was nice knowing you."
Fett swore under his breath. So much for the blood-sacrifice theory.
Ramirez took the first knife and handed it to the Vader-imposter recruit. "We'll begin with you, Staples," he said in a kindly voice. "Don't be afraid. You're entirely safe."
The recruit didn't seem so sure – the knife shook dangerously in his hand. Fett had a feeling that this man had somehow been suckered into this without his knowledge and had just now realized he was in way over his head.
/Time to break up this party/ he decided, and he strode toward the center of the room.
"Padawan, you're interrupting the ceremony!" Ramirez barked.
"Hang the ceremony," Fett snarled. "I'm not here to join your twisted Sith cult."
Polowski uttered a string of profanity that would have made a Hutt blush. "I knew you were a $#!ing spy!"
"Hardly a spy," Fett replied. "More of a… private investigator."
The Vader recruit dropped the knife and melted back into the crowd, obviously relieved that Fett's distraction had spared him from making a grievous mistake.
Quinzain smiled indulgently, gazing at Fett like a hungry acklay eyeing a particularly plump reek calf. "And what is it that you want, my friend? Information? You'll find the Sons of the Sith are quite willing to talk, so long as you never breathe a word about what you've seen here."
"I'm looking for this," Fett replied, pulling the photo of Vincent from his belt pouch and holding it over his head. "I was informed that you are in possession of this cat, and in exchange for my silence I demand that the animal be returned to me unharmed…"
Mocking laughter met his declaration. The Mara Jade lookalike was sniggering behind her hands, and Polowski was doubled over and positively roaring with mirth. Quinzain smiled even more widely.
"What," he inquired amusedly, "in the name of Exar Kun do you think the Sons of the Sith would want with a cat?"
"I thought you were involved in animal sacrifice…" Fett explained rather lamely.
Another wave of laughter filled the building. Quinzain chortled and wiped tears from his eyes.
"Ah my friend, you've been another victim of the rumors," he noted.
"He must've seen us by the Ark, boss," Polowski pointed out.
"Ah yes, that must be why he's here," Quinzain realized. "Explain our actions then, Polowski."
"Glady." He leveled a masked gaze at Fett. "I know Mrs. Albany quite well – she was my fifth-grade teacher before she retired. I mow her lawn and pick up her groceries every week in return for use of her vehicle. Quinzain and I saw her cat this morning and decided to take him back to her, but he scratched us up pretty bad and took off." He shrugged. "Tough luck about that, but cats're cheap at the shelters."
"I don't believe you," Fett snarled.
"That hardly matters," Quinzain replied. "You've seen too much anyhow to be allowed to leave." He nodded at Ramirez, who stepped forward and held a knife to Fett's chest.
"The choice is yours," Quinzain went on. "You can join us… or die."
Fett calmly reached for his blaster, carefully planning his next few moves. He would have to kill Ramirez; there was no other way. It might also be necessary to pump a few shots into Polowski, as he was the closest and the greatest threat. After that, he would have to clear a path to the nearest window, about ten feet away…
The blaster was gone.
"Oh, and a word of advice, Fett," Quinzain went on, emphasizing his name. "Next time someone asks you to undress, keep an eye on your discarded clothing. We found some… interesting things in your armor while Darth Tang was cleansing you."
It couldn't be! Fett frantically assessed his weaponry. All guns and knives were gone, his dart gun had been emptied of ammunition, and what hadn't been taken had been deactivated. When he glanced to his right, he saw the red-and-black stormtrooper holding a knapsack overflowing with weaponry – HIS weaponry.
"Brothers and sisters in the dark side!" Quinzain shouted. "This is no common man before us! This is Boba Fett – the son of Jango Fett, the slayer of the Almighty Sarlaac, the most legendary bounty hunter in the galaxy… and the first sign of the coming of the Empire we have awaited so long!"
The crowd bellowed in triumph.
/Oh, poodoo/ Fett thought, now knowing what it felt like to be at the other end of the hunter's gun.
Break…
The Toyota rumbled to a halt about a hundred yards from the lodge, remaining in the trees to hide it from view in case the Sons of the Sith had posted guards. Vader slipped out of the car and slunk forward to assess the situation. Luke, meanwhile, turned to address Trapper.
"Stay here," he ordered. "Keep low so no one sees you. If Rachel wakes up, keep her quiet."
Trapper nodded seriously. "All right, Luke."
Vader was waiting by the car's hood when Luke got out.
"I counted at least ten vehicles outside the lodge," he reported. "There are no guards outside the building. There is a man in the doorway, but I cannot tell if he is a sentry or just a latecomer. I detected no electronic surveillance."
"So far, so good," Luke replied.
Vader stared at the building a moment, oddly pensive. "It was Obi-wan who told you Fett would be here, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Because he spoke to me as well." Was that regret in his tone? "I don't understand it. I slew him in cold blood, I destroyed the Order, I betrayed his trust… why would he still elect to help me and make contact with me?"
Luke clasped his father's arm. "Maybe because he's finally realizing that there's some good in you," he suggested.
Vader snorted. "Obi-wan was a stubborn man. I highly doubt he can change his mind that rapidly."
"We can debate this after we've rescued Fett. Right now we're burning time."
"Right." Vader strode toward the building. "I will handle the sentry."
The man in the doorway – a Vader impersonator – was acting decidedly odd. He was crouching, rubbing his arms as if chilled, doubled over as if debating whether or not to lose his lunch on the ground. He couldn't be a guard or sentry – more likely he was a visitor or new member who was having second thoughts about joining the Sons.
"I don't think he's dangerous," Luke told Vader.
"I will decide that for myself." Vader approached the man and clamped a powerful hand on his arm, hoisting him upright. The man stared at Vader, obviously startled.
"Tell us what's going on in there," he ordered.
The man shook his head frantically.
"Tell us now!" he barked impatiently.
The imposter stared fixedly at Luke. Somehow, despite the fact that he'd seen dozens of false Darth Vaders since arriving in Star City, realization hit. He'd seen him before, had even spoken with him in a fashion…
"Nick!" he exclaimed. "Nick Staples!"
It was Vader's turn to stare at him. "You know this man?"
"I met him today when Trapper and I went to the movies," Luke explained. "He's deaf, he can't hear you…"
Nick slumped to the ground as Vader released his arm, shuddering. Luke bent down and helped him back to his feet.
"You okay?" he mouthed.
Nick pulled his notepad from his belt and hastily scrawled something:
/You shouldn't have come./
Vader took the pad from Nick and wrote a reply. /We have an associate in that building, and we believe he is in possible danger. You will help us rescue him, or we will turn you over to the proper authorities. It is your decision./
/No choice there – I'll help you. I'm not afraid of the authorities – I have no criminal record./
Luke wrote the reply this time. /Why are you here, Nick? I don't understand. I don't know you very well, but you're still the last person I'd expect to see mixed up in this./
/Please, Nick… or I suppose it's Luke? And Vader? The Sith leader already discovered Fett's identity in the lodge; I assume he's the "associate" you're rescuing/
Vader nodded. "He's very observant."
/Before you pass judgment on me, please hear me out/ Nick continued, his hands trembling as he scrawled the words.
/Very well/ Vader replied. /We are short on time, so make your explanation brief./
/Jenna's brother went to high school with me back in Newport. He's deaf as well, which is how she's so familiar with sign language. When I told my friend I was moving to Colorado, he asked me to look up his sister down there and try to help her. She'd fallen into a rough crowd, had been arrested for possession of marijuana and was quite likely doing harder drugs as well. I promised to do all I could for her. How was I to know that she was involved in… this/ He gestured helplessly toward the lodge.
/She invited me to the meeting tonight, telling me that if I truly wanted to help her, I had to understand her world. I agreed. But by the time I realized just how totally she'd fallen for the madness and delusions that make up the Sons of the Sith's beliefs, I was in too deep. Once I got in, I couldn't get out. Only your friend showing up and accidentally blowing his cover saved me from irrevocably becoming one of them./
Vader took the notepad from him and slowly wrote a reply. /It would seem that we have more in common than you realize./
Luke wondered what that meant. But before he could ask, an exultant roar echoed from the lodge.
"That can't be good," Luke worried.
/Nick, we will need your help/ Vader wrote. /You are more familiar with this territory than either of us. If we are to get Fett out of there in one piece, your cooperation is necessary./
Nick hesitated, then gave a sharp nod. He motioned for them to follow him.