Jedi of Gondor - Thanks for your review! I'll try to reply to a couple of your points via message, but what I can respond to here is that Joclad, even before the war and Order 66, was likely not the model Jedi. They called him Code-breaker for a reason. ;) Granted, I don't think that the Order would encourage therandom beating of officers as stress relief but Master Danva might think otherwise...

And yes, that was a blatant LOTR reference!

Wellingtonboots - I'll message you also with some Vastor info. He's from the extended universe.

I meant to get this chapter (and the one that follows) out earlier this week but I was on a Mac that this website didn't like. So, am sorry for the delay. Enjoy!

I dedicate this chapter to my grandfather, who passed away on March 28th. He's likely the reason for my (and my family's) longtime love affair with Star Wars.

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15. Lost in Space

An unknown starship believed to be carrying Jedi fugitives blasted out of Coruscant early this morning, evading a host of gunships and the new Star Destroyer Immolator. Details are not yet forthcoming, but Commander Wilhuff Tarkin is confident that the ship will soon be in Imperial custody...

The holovid droned on, and Sabé Ralter tried to ignore it. Nothing on Coruscant could have prepared her for the full implications of Order Sixty-Six. Nothing at all.

She'd left the general on the cruiser. The general was likely dead. The Republic was dead. And Padmé Amidala…

…was gone.

Not indisposed or busy or visiting friends and relatives. Not going for a walk or taking her little ship for a relaxing flight. She was just gone. And she'd taken Typho and one of the handmaidens with her.

At least she'd thought of her own protection.

Now, as Sabé sat in the office of one of Padmé's only political confidants and replayed the events of the prior day and a half in her mind, she wondered if she was simply having another caf-induced dream, and all of this nonsense would go away once she woke up.

But when she looked out the window, the smoldering ruins of the Jedi Temple would still be there – and she was, after all, awake.

Sabé stared across at Bail Organa and tried to make sense of the words currently coming out of his mouth. "I still don't understand. Jedi don't rebel."

"I agree," Senator Organa said. "But much of the galaxy does not. The actions of a few of them…have decided the fate of many." Sabé knew he must be talking of the Darksiders, those Jedi who turned on their own and seemed to delight in causing havoc -- Dooku, Billaba – and so many others….

Still, they were but two. Two, out of how many thousands? She pursed her lips. "The Chancellor acted rashly."

"Emperor," he corrected her listlessly. He clasped his hands behind his back and stared out of his office at the ruined building, his shoulders slumped. "Be careful of what you say. This is a dangerous time, Captain Ralter. We must be cautious."

Padmé had always held Bail Organa in exceedingly high regard. Sabé had been away on military campaigns during most of the Nubian Senator's interaction with him, but she knew him to be a fair man, and friendly with the Jedi Order. The weight of the man she'd rescued – or perhaps left to die in a bad part of the city – rested squarely on her shoulders, though she longed to tell someone of it. Anyone. Even Bail Organa of Alderaan would do. Just so I don't have to bear it alone, and be the one traitor in all of the Core Worlds...

But was he trustworthy?

She decided to test him. "Do you think any escaped?"

The way he lowered his head suggested he didn't think that at all. But all he said was, "I hope so."

She thought of the weary and bloodstained knight she'd dropped o o o ff the night before – gods, it seems so long ago – Danva, yes, that was him. Had he made it to wherever his shelter was? Or had he simply dropped dead after she left? He hadn't seemed far at all from doing exactly that when last she saw him. Her mind then drifted to another Jedi, one she'd known far longer – and there it was.

Fear.

Fear for her friends amongst the venerable Order. Fear for those she knew who might not take Palpatine's command to destroy the Jedi so easily. Worse, fear for – or of? – those who would.

Fear has a time and a place, Privos had told all of the handmaidens when he first began their instruction. It gets you nowhere, and it might get you killed if you indulge it at the wrong time. Wait until you're safe. Then be afraid. If you must.

The hilt of one of her vibroblades peeked out of its sheath on her thigh. Sabé resisted the temptation to whip it out and hurl it at one of the expensive-looking sculptures that decorated the office – gifts from planetary dignitaries, she imagined, but enticing targets nonetheless.

"Are you all right, Captain?"

She tore her gaze away from the 'blade. "I'm just thinking." She paused, and wondered how to best broach the subject. "Of my friends there."

"Anakin Skywalker," Bail said. He turned around to face her, and his features were markedly tight. "General Kenobi."

"Yes." Her throat felt raspy. Anakin is gone, Padmé is gone... But she pushed ahead. "And Padmé – Senator, where…?"

"So you noticed." He sighed heavily and sat down. "I knew she and Anakin were friends, so I contacted her when I – when I saw the temple. She didn't answer. She was at the... announcement... but I am to assume she left immediately after..."

"I found her handmaiden at the apartment, alone," Sabé said. Memories of bullying the poor girl into disclosing Padmé's departure almost made her smile – almost. At least I'm still effective militaristically. "She said Padmé and Typho left right after. They didn't say why."

And Sabé had missed it all wandering the undercity for answers. Stupid broken-down speeder...

Organa drummed his fingers against the armrest. "I could make a general inquiry about her health… perhaps she went back to Naboo…."

The naïve little girl inside of her hoped that was indeed the case, but Sabé shook her head. "She would have contacted me. Or responded to my hails. I spoke to her last night, Senator, while the temple was burning…I didn't realize it at the time, but she must have seen it." The words came easier now, and softer. "She sounded…she sounded terrified."

"None of us were particularly excited about it, Captain," Organa reminded her. "There wasn't anyone dancing on the street. The planet – the entire planet—"

"I know," she said. "But there was something else." She paced to the other end of the room, admiring the varnished frames around Ithorian artwork. Pale colors rippled and changed as the sunlight hit them directly, creating a sort of dream into which she could submerge herself. "Something…I did the math, Senator, and the temple was burning for at least two hours before I heard from her. She must have seen it before…why did she wait?"

Organa didn't immediately respond. Sabé held her breath and hoped he'd take the bait.

When he turned back to look at her with his sad dark eyes, she realized he had.

"I'm going to tell you something, Captain Ralter," Bail Organa said. "I'm going to tell you this because Padmé always trusted you, and so did Obi-Wan Kenobi. Through that, I trust you."

He beckoned her to sit with him in front of the window, and when she did, he began to speak.

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Two hours later, Sabé marched from the Senate building, her mind a muddled soup of half-finished thoughts and connections. She kept her composure until she reached the bridge of the Spindrift, and there she sat for several minutes, running her fingers over the controls.

A decision such as this must not come lightly, Bail had said. Regardless of what you believe or what you think you know – if you do this, you will end up marked. We all will.

Sabé clenched her hands around the accelerator. I'm already marked. Always was. She reached for the comm and punched in Ric's code, then managed a smile as the pilot's face popped up on the screen – a smile that vanished as she took in Ric's semi-panicked expression. "Ric?"

"Captain! What happened? Where's the Senator?"

"I have to go find her, Ric," she said, her voice soft. "I need the Spindrift awhile longer."

The strain must have shown on her face, for Ric's expression immediately changed from semi-panicked-but-worried-compatriot to one-time father figure. "Sabé, chalie, what is it?"

"Something terrible has happened." She dared not say more; she had no idea how much access to the news Ric or the rest of the crew possessed. But the man nodded in understanding.

"The Jedi, right? And – Captain – the General— "

"Dead," she guessed. Poor thing. I should have brought her with me.

"No…" Ric hesitated. "The, erm, clones – they started fighting. Some of them didn't want to shoot her, and, well… that gave her time…."

"She got away?" Sabé's jaw nearly fell open. That makes three! "What's happening now?"

"Not much. We haven't been recalled yet. Seems they forgot about us out here." He made a face, but then grew somber. "Besides, Rabé likes being in charge."

"Good." Who knew how long she might stay that way? "Ric, I'm going to find Padmé. And – I don't want you to believe everything you hear. About anything."

Ric frowned a little, and the laugh lines around his eyes suddenly no longer looked like laugh lines. "What've you gotten yourself into, Ralter?"

"I don't know yet," she told him honestly. "When I do, I'll…tell you." I think.

"Do you need help?"

"No. Not yet." I can't ask this of you yet. "Just your blessing and your ship."

"You always have my blessing," he said automatically. "And – well, you've already got my ship, so I can't do much about that anyway."

She tried to laugh, but not much came out. Instead she nodded. "I'll be in touch. Don't blow up the cruiser."

"That would be bad."

She signed off, and started powering the Spindrift up. Her military clearance obviously hadn't been questioned yet; she made it through the ring of attack cruisers without trouble. She did spare the imposing-looking Immolator a single long stare and tried to imagine what it would feel like to see that thing barreling down from the stern of a much smaller starship.

She shivered, and hurriedly made the jump to lightspeed.

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Lightyears flashed by as the Wanderer ran full-throttle through hyperspace, and Dack wondered why someone had not yet harnessed the power of faster-than-light and used it for something useful…like time travel.

I'd go back in time, he thought as the little ship rattled slightly. He propped his head up in his hand and stared at the starlines, lost in his daydreams. I'd go back in time and fix things, somehow… find a way to make it all be right again...

"So," a weary-sounding Elan Sleazebaggano said from the back, "how did you and Devi here meet?"

When in doubt, make harmless small talk. Dack chuckled thinly. "You want to tell him, or shall I?"

"We met in a prison cell," Devona said. "What, six years ago? Seven?"

"Might've been more. I hadn't been a knight for more than a couple years, so it must be... nine?" My my, time warps when you're flying a fast ship. He thought about turning around to smile at her, but decided the motion would take too much effort. Besides, it might disturb his knee.

There was an awkward pause as Elan digested the information. "Wait. You met in jail?"

"Phony charges," Devona said over a faint clanging noise from the engine room. She leaned over to check one of the scopes, but otherwise did not seem terribly concerned. "Complete falsity."

"I thought you admitted to them," Joclad said. He'd planted himself in one of the rear jump seats.

"Because they were threatening me!"

"Hey, Elan, you got any more of whatever you put on my knee before?" Dack had an unpleasant feeling that whatever antibiotics Elan had managed to drag along quite likely didn't include strong painkillers, but he'd take what he could get. "It hurts again."

"Yeah, buzz, let me go check." The Balosar skipped out, probably to drop another deathstick before digging out something for a pained Jedi Knight. Ah, well. Let him do what he wants. Can't hurt at this point.

Devona muttered a complaint and fiddled with one of the onboard computers. "Might have to check the stabilizers..."

The rattling continued, and grew louder. Didn't this ship have a pretty smooth ride last time I was on her? Dack lifted his head from his hand as his chair started vibrating, and looked up at the pilot. "Hey, should the ship be shaking like…?"

"Frack!" Devona leaped out of her chair and shot down the corridor. She'd barely vanished down a maintenance shaft when the Wanderer quaked violently, sending Dack scrambling to hold on to the armrests as the starlines fizzled back into stars. Wanderer tore downward, her artificial gravity unable to compensate for an unexpected fall out of lightspeed.

Dack grabbed the controls and tried to haul the ship back up onto a standard course, all the while locking his legs beneath the seat to keep from floating upward. The stars sputtered and twisted as he dizzily attempted to slow the Wanderer down – to no avail. The ship spiraled, her engines making horrible clunk-THUNK noises astern.

"Some kind of space-time flux?" he asked, reaching out with the Force. No, not space-time. Feels almost… mechanical...

A finger reached out and touched a button.

Wanderer's engines mercifully stilled into their sublight power, and the ship's balance evened out. Dack scarcely dared to breathe as he turned to stare at Joclad, who looked mildly amused by the entire thing.

"So." Dack felt it was alright to breathe again. "What was that?"

"The ship wanted to go back into hyperspace," his friend said. "And kept trying."

He just stared. "But what did you do?"

Joclad looked back evenly. "I turned off the hyperdrive."

"Oh." Dack cleared his throat. Be more observant, Meridian. "Good idea."

"I thought so, too."

He glanced outward at the stars. "About the space-time flux…."

"I won't say anything."

He was about to smile, but was interrupted by an enraged shriek from the engine room. "Fracking son of a Sith! Pureed riddle-monkeys in crimson robes tap-dancing by the light of the demon moon!"

"Damn." Even Joclad was impressed by that.

"Oh, tell me it can't get worse…." Dack limped down to the shaft, where Arden had already made herself useful with a fire extinguisher. "What happened?"

Devona jumped down from the upper level, something molten cradled in her hands. Joclad chuckled thinly from the corridor. "I think it got worse."

The little pilot held out the melted piece of metal and appeared to swell to at least three times her normal size. With her flashing eyes and reddened face, she became, for a brief moment in time, the most physically terrifying thing Dack Meridian had ever seen. "ELAN!"

Elan crept out of the 'fresher. "Y…yes?"

It took Joclad all of two seconds to hold out his hand. Elan squeaked and sailed right into it, and the tall knight lifted him off the ground so that they could see eye to eye. "Elan, you've been a bad Balosar…."

"Excuse me." Devona tugged on Joclad's tunic. "I get to yell at him first."

Joclad appeared to consider this, and then nodded. He put Elan down and stepped graciously aside. "By all means."

Devona grabbed the alien's collar, slammed the converter down on the table, and shoved Elan's face at it. "Explain!"

"Uh," the Balosar said. "I don't know much about ships…."

This is going to be a long one, Dack thought, and sat down gingerly on an overturned cargo box. He'd play mediator if things got nasty, but with tensions running as high as they were, it might be best to let everyone blow off a little steam….

"So you don't know what caused this…mysterious malfunction?" Devona asked. Dack half-expected her to hurl the drug dealer against a wall, or maybe shoot sparks out of her eyes. Angry women really are kind of scary...especially short ones.

"No, I -- "

Devona – or Captain Swyfte, now – turned away. "Do what you want with him, Danva," she said.

Dack straightened up. "Devi, that might not be a good idea..." He trailed off as he realized no one was listening to him.

"She said it was the highest quality!" Elan squeaked as Joclad approached. "It'd last us at least as far as Corellia!"

Joclad wrapped his fingers around the Balosar's neck and smiled unpleasantly at him. "We're not at Corellia, in case you didn't notice."

All right, this is getting out of hand. But all that came out of Dack's mouth was a mumbled "stop it."

"Maybe it was sabotage," Devona said darkly as she looked at the molten lump. "Someone was onto you."

Dev, you're really not helping here…. Dack watched in horrified amazement as Joclad simply lifted Elan off the ground again. This time, he didn't bother stopping at eye level: Elan just kept on going up. And up. And suddenly the Balosar was dangling in midair, fingers tearing at Joclad's firm grip.

The man from Ord Mantell seemed unmoved. "Maybe he did make a few calls while I was deathed out." He must have tightened his grasp, because Elan's next words came out in a choked protest.

It took Dack only a second to study the maddening grin on his friend's face and decide that Joclad was having problems. "Put him down," he said, struggling to his feet. "This isn't worth killing each other over." Besides, the last thing they needed was Knight Danva choking the life out of the comic relief.

"He broke my ship," Devona said. But all the anger seemed to go out of her as Elan went from red to a strange shade of mauve. "Stop, you're killing him -- "

Dack lurched forward. "Put him down, Joclad," he said again, wondering if he had the strength -- if he had the ability – to take a 'saber to the man if he had to.

The thought disturbed him.

"I didn't! I swear it!" Elan's feet kicked wildly as he tried to squirm free.

"If it was sabotage of an Imperial nature," Arden said coolly, "the Empire would be upon us by now."

The truth of her words made them all go still, with the exception of Elan. He grabbed at Joclad's wrists and kicked as best he could. "Yeah, listen to the Teräs Käsi Master…."

"You wanted to get off the ship," Joclad said, his tone flat. Dack sensed he was about to start tightening his grip, and leaned forward.

"Put him down, Joclad…."

"Of course I wanted to get off the ship!" Elan's eyes bugged out, and his antennae spun frantically. "I live on Coruscant!"

And Joclad – Joclad just…was he snarling or smiling?

"Joclad." Dack drew on the Force as best he could to amplify his voice. "Put him down!"

Joclad stayed very still for an instant, and the Balosar in his grasp drew in a curtailed, wheezing breath of air as his fingers loosened. Then the Jedi slowly -- reluctantly? -- set Elan back on his feet. The dealer scrambled backward, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Devona immediately crouched next to him, her eyes all but glued to Joclad, and probably not without reason.

Dack studied his friend, uncertain what to make of this new streak. Joclad had always been prone to recklessness, but lashing out at hapless tagalongs was not one of his traits. Dack reached out cautiously through the Force and touched a whirling pool of blackness before Joclad noticed, narrowed his eyes, and flung up a powerful mental shield.

Dack winced. Way to be a pal, Danva. You might want to get that dark thing in you looked at...

Devona patted Elan on the head and stood up, looking distastefully at the melted converter. "I guess we're floating at the moment. The sublight engines are all right, but it'll take us weeks to get anywhere -- " Elan made a small, strained sound, " -- and I don't know about sending out a distress signal, seeing that we have you…people."

Well, everything's back to normal then. Dack wiped his hand across his brow, mentally calculating the odds of a Repub -- Empire vessel coming across Swyfte and her group of outlaws. The Wanderer was one of thousands of swift Corellian racers, but if anyone had gotten the vessel's identification numbers, they were all in big trouble. Then again, Devona's previous run-ins with the law might have prompted her to wipe the numbers entirely -- Dack reminded himself to check on that. For the moment, though, he had other concerns. "Is there anyone we can call?"

Arden nodded. "There is. But I don't know how far off she is, or how long it will take her to get here." Nonetheless, she slipped soundlessly into the bridge, the door shutting behind her. Dack decided it was easier to trust the crazy Teräs Käsi lady rather than question her.

An odd feeling bubbled at the back of his skull, anxiety and anger mixing together to form some sort of potent emotional cocktail. He suspected the epicenter of the sensation might well be emanating from Joclad, who stared grimly at a spot on the bulkhead. Dack rubbed his knee and tried not to cringe as he felt the bandage under his torn trousers scrape against his skin. "So we wait."

"What do we do with the Rodian?" Devona asked.

Dack hesitated. "I -- can we spare any food for him?"

She shrugged. "We have enough stores for a few days, I guess, but no more than that. If anyone's on a weight-loss program I'm sure you'll all be very pleased."

He grunted, and once again tried to probe the dark depths that he'd seen in Joclad. The shields, as he expected, were still up. "We'll just have to make do, then," he said. "Jedi are good at making do."

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It did not take long for the masses to turn on their one-time guardians.

Roughly two thousand Jedi had led battalions of clones into war. Another five thousand were spread thinly across the galaxy, some without access to holovids or the datanet. Some felt the tremors in the Force, some did not.

Slowly, painfully, they began to learn.

Palpatine's words had done their job well, poisoning much of the goodwill citizens of the galaxy still harbored for their on one e-time protectors. Ordinary citizens used antiquated weaponry, swarming on anyone who dared carry a lightsaber. Jedi Knights -- unaccustomed to battling mere civilians -- often went down without a fight rather than kill a sentient being.

The remaining Jedi felt the deaths as they piled up, and the darkness encroached further.

Eventually, they understood. They had no more friends. Their allies, if they could be called that, had to look after their own first.

The temple's all-clear broadcast had changed, warning them away. Someone, at least, had gotten in and closed off the trap.

And so they hid.

What the commoners failed to do, Darth Vader took care of himself.

The cloaked figure came into cities and towns and villages by night. He scaled mountains, swam through water. He crossed deserts and soared through atmospheres. He always found them.

There were other Agents of Darkness, familiar faces of long-ago, turned and manipulated by some thread of malice. They came as well, ending the lives of old friends…compatriots…family.

But there were none so feared as the man with the dark cloak. Whispers spread through the galaxy of this Dark Lord, the mysterious Vader.

The Jedi trembled.

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As the galaxy went dark, Joclad Danva stared out one of the portholes and desperately tried to control the thing howling inside him.

It demanded action. It wanted blood. It warred with his better side, screaming that the extermination of his friends -- his family -- would continue until he did something.

I can't do anything. I'm stuck on a broken ship in the middle of nowhere.

But rational thoughts didn't seem to last very long these days.

You failed in the temple, the thing whispered. Do not fail again!

Depa did not believe in failure. Her Chalactan philosophy -- of the Seeker existing exactly where he should -- had comforted many during the void left by the war. We are all meant to do exactly as we ought, she had told him over lunch before her final mission. Right where we are is where we are meant to be. This thing called failure… She had lifted one slim hand, flicked it dismissively. Joclad had watched the motion, entranced by her voice. …it does not exist.

Yes, they were words of comfort for a better time.

I failed though, Depa, he thought, and Cin's broken lightsaber flew into his hand. There's nothing else you can call it. I failed you. I failed him. I failed everyone.