Chapter VI – The Sixth and Seventh

"I am deeply indebted to you, my lord," the stormtrooper told me as he lowered himself onto a rock beside the fire. "If it hadn't been for you, I surely would have died."

"No great loss," muttered Fett.

"Shut up, Uncle Fettster," Jessa snapped.

We were now some distance from the battle site where we had acquired our sixth traveling companion, taking a much-needed respite from our flight. We kept the fire low in case of pursuit, though common sense told us that a single stormtrooper would not be missed in the bedlam. I had taken advantage of our moment of rest to retire to the shelter and tend to my medical needs, while Nightwind hunted for his sustenance and Luke, Fett, and our newest partner ate a quick, frugal meal. Jessa, meanwhile, recharged her droid body – her organic components were sustained by a nutrient tank in her torso, which only needed refilled every six months or so.

"Probably need another pit stop in a few weeks," she explained. "I used to filch from med centers, but you won't mind if I use some of yours, will you?"

"Of course not." Having another cyborg in our party at least meant that I was by no means the odd one out. It was strangely comforting to know that I was not the only half-machine present, not the only one in need of medical equipment and nutrient fluids.

Again I studied our most recent tagalong, making special note of his Force signature. When Luke and I had flung his bleeding, semiconscious body over Nightwind's shoulders and fled, we hadn't paused to notice anything significant about him. He had just been another clone soldier, albeit an injured one. But when I had touched him with the ring to heal his wound, I had been profoundly struck by one thing.

He was Force-sensitive.

The trooper set his ration tray aside. "What will happen to me now?" he inquired, giving me an expectant look, like a child knowing a punishment is in store but determined to face it.

"What do you mean?" asked Luke.

"I'm your prisoner," he explained. "It's common knowledge among the Empire that Vader has turned his allegiances. I owe you my life, Lord Vader, but I cannot join the Rebellion…"

"I am not a Rebel," I replied.

"You killed the Emperor," he pointed out. "Does that not make you an ally of the Rebellion?"

"They will not accept me among their numbers. Hatred runs too deeply, and for good reason. Yes, I killed the Emperor, but I did it to save my son, not to join the Alliance." I raised my left hand to show him the ring, which now shimmered a brilliant gold. "As for what will happen to you now, you will travel with us – not as a prisoner, but as an equal. The six of us are bound by the power of the unicorn ring. I do not know where our journey will lead us, but we will travel as friends and partners until we reach our ultimate destination."

He nodded understandingly – it seemed his greatest attribute was acceptance. "There's a story behind all this, I'm sure."

I started from the finding of the ring and told him the history of our travels over the past two weeks, introducing the others by name when appropriate. I glossed over the visions and the mysterious silver-robed woman, and for an explanation of the ring's power I deffered to Jessa. The stormtrooper listened attentively, a rapt expression on his face.

"I must believe you," he said at length. "I can't imagine why you'd concoct such an elaborate story to delude an inconsequential trooper. Not to mention that you've already demonstrated the ring's power." He brushed his fingers over his blackened stomach plate. "So I was chosen by the ring to accompany you. Strange."

"If he tells us his story, maybe we'll know why he was chosen," Nightwind suggested, looking up from picking his teeth with a foreclaw.

"Perhaps if you told us about yourself…" I prompted the trooper.

He sighed and stared into the fire. "Very well. My number is TK-259…"

"We can't call you by a number," Luke protested. "Don't you have a name?"

"No name," he replied. "Never had one. It's perfectly normal to us. But if you want to give me a name, I won't object, I suppose. Just don't expect me to answer to it right away."

"Call him Tuck," Jessa suggested. "It's close enough to TK, isn't it?"

He mulled that over. "Tuck. Not bad. Simple, yet catchy. I like it." He nodded. "Okay, you may call me Tuck. Now for my history, for what it's worth.

"I was 'born,' if you can call it that, in the cloning facilities on Kamino. I grew up on Tipoca City, studying weaponry and battle tactics like all other clones there. We were all destined to be stormtroopers – there was no choice in the matter, no other options. I don't think any of us cared, though, for how could we resent our fates if we didn't even know there were other options?

"It was a hard life, but one grew accustomed. Our minds and bodies were kept hard and sharp, ever ready for battle. We never questioned, we only acted. Our lives belonged to those who commanded us. We weren't individuals, but units in a whole. Individuality was discouraged – to most of us, anything that made us stand out was a flaw, a defect that kept us from fitting into the whole."

He lifted his helmet and stared into the lenses, brooding. "Maybe that's why I always felt inferior. Because I knew, on some deep level, that I was different. I had a talent, a quirk, that no other clone possessed. I was a Finder.

"When I was young, I thought everyone could do it, so it wasn't much more than a harmless pastime. If someone mislaid a datapad, I knew where to find it. If an instructor wanted to know who had pulled a particular prank, I knew who it was. I could find things – objects, people, information. But how was I supposed to know it was a talent unique to me? I thought every clone could do it.

"My first assignment was aboard the first Death Star as a security officer. The station was almost complete at the time, and Grand Moff Tarkin was present to oversee the final phase of construction. I remember being in the room one day when he and a lower officer were having an argument. Apparently the lower officer was concerned that the plans for the station weren't being safeguarded very well. Tarkin retorted that, if his subordinate thought the plans could reveal any potential flaws in the station, he dared the man to find those flaws!

"I should have kept my mouth shut… but I thought I was being helpful. I told them that the sole flaw aboard the station was Thermal Exhaust Port THX-1138, in the equilateral trench.

"It was in that moment I realized that no other stormtrooper had my Finding ability. After all, would they have stared at me with such expressions of shock if any clone could announce sensitive information on command?

"I was arrested on the spot and interrogated relentlessly, for the officers suspected I was a Rebel spy in disguise. They surely would have killed me had Tarkin not realized my gift and seen use for it. I was promptly released from my tour of duty and transferred to his personal residence as an 'assistant.' I suspect he wished to use me to further his own personal ends, whatever they were. At any rate, I never found out – he died a few weeks later when the Rebels exploited the flaw I had discovered and destroyed the Death Star. Why Tarkin never made good of my information, I'll never know.

"From that point forward, I became an outcast. The officers seemed to have forgotten my talent, or they chose to ignore it. But my brothers shunned my company at all costs. I was different, a concept totally alien to them, and they had no idea how to handle it. There was no place for a Finder among them. My gift had become a curse.

"I was transferred to Corellia, where I have served ever since. Word of the Emperor's death arrived two weeks ago, along with the order to carry on at all costs. At the time, we believed the Empire would still triumph, that losing the Emperor was only a setback.

"It soon became clear that we had lost the war, however. The Empire, having lost its heart, was now in its death throes. Our officers were determined to scrounge what they could from the pieces, however, and used us to loot, plunder, and snatch what riches and power they could before retreating. Our own garrison was ordered to attack a nearby village on the grounds that they were plotting a terrorist attack on our base."

Tuck's dark eyes met mine. "Believe me, I did not take place in the atrocities there. I may be an Imperial soldier, but I could not bring myself to shoot children! I was called weak by the others… but it is really a strength to be able to shoot a defenseless child?

"We were preparing to leave Corellia this morning, hoping to meet up with the remains of the Imperial Army near the Core, when the survivors of our raid ambushed us. And, of course, that was where you came into the story."

Tuck closed his eyes and touched his forehead to the crown of his helmet. "All I ever wanted was to be like the others. I want nothing more than to be rid of my curse and be accepted among my brothers again." He opened his eyes and gazed longingly at the ring. "Can your ring strip me of my Finding ability? Or can you use the Force to destroy it?"

I had never heard of anyone willingly losing their affinity to the Force. Among the Jedi and Sith, such a thing was unthinkable. But then, the Force was the rule rather than the exception among both Orders. I lifted my hand, the ivory of the ring gleaming in the firelight. Surely it could not hurt to try…

My hand spasmed as if cramping. Frowning, I flexed the fingers and reached for Tuck again… and felt another burst of pain. The ring refused to cooperate.

"I am sorry, Tuck," I replied, "but I cannot."

His dark eyes clouded, but he swiftly controlled himself. "Then perhaps we'll come across someone who can help me." He slipped his helmet back on. "There are still wizards and witches out there – the Empire can't have destroyed them all. At least one that can help me be rid of my cursed talent must exist."

Another optimistic soul, it would seem. Such faith struck me as inspiring, if rather naïve. I will admit, I was a cynic, and who could blame me? I had had my own hopes and dreams shattered so many times, it seemed pointless to me to have faith in anything anymore. But I couldn't bring myself to dash any of my newfound friends' hopes.

"Well, welcome to the gang, Tuck," Luke told him, extending a hand. "Good to have you here."

"Thanks," was the clone's sincere reply.

And so it was that Tuck, a Force-strong stormtrooper outcast, became the sixth member of our strange company. It seemed that he fit into our company seamlessly, pitching in to douse the fire and clean up after dinner, chatting amiably with Luke and Jessa, and becoming acquainted with Nightwind. Even Fett unfrosted enough to bid him welcome.

I refastened Nightwind's collar, all the while listening to Luke and Tuck converse and Jessa softly sing a song about "Fire and Rain" as she buried the ashes of our fire. I still had no idea what lay in store for us now that our refuge had been destroyed, but wherever we ended up, whatever lay ahead, it would at least prove to be an interesting journey. Though I had to wonder – who was the seventh member of our company, and how would he, she, or it fit into the scheme of things?

Break…

The woman in silver had a serene expression on her face, but her voice was urgent. Her slim hand beckoned, her strangely colorless eyes fixed onto mine and trapped my gaze.

Come.

How can I come when I don't even know who you are or how to find you? I protested.

The seventh will help you, my young one. The seventh will lead the way. As for who I am… do you not know? We have met before – many times, in fact.

Then why do I not recognize you?

She gestured toward my left hand, and the ring burst to life, dazzling my eyes with golden light.

Consult your birthright. It will tell you.

Visions filled my mind, not the disjointed scenes of before, but memories with a shared thread, a common denominator…

…a group of Gamorrean gaurds having some fun at my two-and-a-half-year-old self's expense in the basement of Gardulla the Hutt's palace, shoving and taunting me until I was crying for mercy… and a gray-scaled Trandoshan interceding, rebuking the porcine aliens with a vicious hiss before taking my hand in a clawed grip and leading me back to my mother…

…a scuffed, weather-beaten, pewter-plated pit droid squeaking anxiously, drawing my attention to a disconnected power cord that could have quite possibly resulted in a fatal meltdown mid-race…

…a teenage female Padawan in stormcloud-colored robes finding me, morose and longing for home, on a balcony in the Jedi Temple, and offering a few words of comfort and the gift of a polished stone from her homeworld, an exotic treasure that I ended up losing a few weeks later…

…a clonetrooper shoving me out of the path of a toppling statue during a pivotal Clone War battle on Ithor, leaving me shaken but grateful as I helped his comrades extract him from the rubble and carry him to the med center, his armor gray with dust…

…a grizzled, gray-haired Colonel whose name I no longer recalled dropping an oblique hint in passing, a hint that led to the discovery and ultimate thwarting of a carefully plotted attempt on my life…

…a lazy stormtrooper loitering in a doorway, armor silvered by cloud-filtered light… a doorway leading to the very ring that had started it all…

You see? The voice sounded amused now. I have been watching you for many years now, young one…

Why? Who am I that you see fit to shadow me wherever I go and harass me in my sleep? What do you want of me?

The question is – what do you want of me, young one?

I could not answer that.

Find me. Take as long as you need, but no longer. I'll be waiting.

Break…

I awoke to voices – and the stabbing pulse of the ring.

"Gerrup," grunted the beast standing over me, his shape indefinite in the predawn light, his demand emphasized by a kick in the ribs.

I sat up, bewildered. The camp was a shambles, every pack and sleeping pallet having been rifled through and tossed carelessly about. Luke, Tuck, and Fett knelt close by, hands on their heads in surrender, a cluster of surly men and women standing guard over them. Four of them held Jessa, who was swearing profusely and thrashing madly to escape. Ragged but heavily armed civilians crowded the camp, pawing through our supplies, fixing chains to a cowering, whimpering Nightwind, hooting and crowing their triumph.

"What th' bleedin' 'ell…" gaped the man who had kicked me awake. "We go lookin' for th' last trooper an' get Darth Vader!"

"All the better," grinned a young woman who held Jessa's leg. "Skywalker and Vader're worth five million creds for the pair."

I got to my feet. My captor kept his weapon trained on me, which wasn't surprising seeing as he hardly came higher than my chest, though his girth more than made up for his vertical handicap. He was nearly bald on top, his hair having migrated long ago to his shaggy forearms and stubbled chin. What teeth he still possessed were broken and yellow, and tiny bloodshot eyes glittered nervously through the rolls of fat on his face.

"Stang, he's bigger in person, ain't he?" breathed the man standing guard over Fett.

"'ow we gonna get 'im on th' ship?" demanded the fat one, shuddering with fear until his jowls shook sickeningly. "What if 'e snaps an' kills us all?"

"The reward doesn't specify dead or alive," the woman replied with an evil grin. "Shoot him."

"No!" Luke screamed, starting to stand.

"Luke, sit!" I ordered, wanting no harm to come to him.

The fat man panicked at the sound of my voice and fired. My right leg crumpled beneath me, and I fell to my knees.

"Shut up," the woman ordered. A shrewd look came over her face. "So you have something going with Lord Vader, don't you? Switched sides, huh?"

"Just don't hurt him," Luke pleaded.

"Oh, is it something more?" she taunted. "You two friends? Lovers? You didn't strike me the type, Skywalker… but no matter. We're not taking chances, not after what the Empire did to our village…"

A shriek tore the air, and the woman cried out in angry pain as a great brown shape dove at her face, raking savagely with glittering talons.

"What th' 'ell?" the fat man gaped.

Fett took full advantage of the distraction to bring his elbow up in his captor's groin. The man buckled in agony, and Fett jerked his blaster from his hands and opened fire.

I struggled to my feet, my leg malfunctioning but still able to support my weight. Blaster fire hummed around me as first Fett, then Luke and Tuck, fought back. Jessa had broken free as well, though she concentrated on freeing Nightwind from his bonds.

"Run for it!"

I turned at that cry. The creature that had attacked the ringleader now swooped at the others, scattering them before her like prey. A great earth-colored bird with a wingspan as long as I was tall, she slashed with wicked talons and a great hooked beak at those who would have surely killed us.

The ring throbbed. No, this couldn't be… how could she be the seventh?

"Run!" she ordered, her fiercely intelligent amber eyes flashing. "I'll catch up with you later!"

I dared not question our savior. The others were already fleeing; the creature's distraction was proving just enough to buy us a much-needed escape opportunity. Jessa came forward and helped me support my injured side, and we departed into the forest, away from the chaos.