Chapter 14

Genesis

Darth Frigeus leaned back into the plush pilot's chair, his fingers steepled and resting against his lips. He stared out the viewscreen, marveling at the roiling blue-white clouds that swirled about the ship in hyperspace. It occurred to him that he had never truly appreciated the beauty that surrounded the ship, despite his numerous jaunts from one location to another. As he considered it further, he realized that he had hardly ever noticed beauty in anything throughout his life, let alone learned to truly appreciate it.

Migruna III had been beautiful, he decided.

It was an odd thing to notice suddenly, considering the hand he had played in its demise, but there it was. He found he could not shake the feeling of loss he had experienced. What was worse, he seemed particularly preoccupied by the death of the leader of the Tribal Council, Gandol.

Kaine sighed.

Very odd, indeed. Leaning forward, Kaine disengaged the hyperspace engines, relishing the distorting sensation as the ship reverted to real space. Kaine admired the white streaks of light as they resolved into tiny pinpricks within the black curtain of space.

You should never have made that deal…

Kaine creased his brow in confusion, trying to grasp where the stray thought had come from. The agreement was necessary. The Sith would survive, and the Jedi would not know of their existence until the Sith chose to reveal themselves. All that he had to give in return was a promise to keep the Sith away from the Jedi as long as he could and to not rebuild his battle station. Those promises were simple enough.

Yoda had not taken the long view. The station had served its purpose. With the designs for the weapon intact and enough cadrinium to build several larger versions on hand, rebuilding the station was no longer a priority. And now was not the time for the Sith to go after the Jedi again.

But we lost…

Kaine shook his head.

No.

They had not lost.

They had won in the most unimaginable way. The Sith finally had the key to defeating the Jedi. Corrupt the Jedi from within. The political influences were already in place with the lobbying Kaine had done to ensure that the Jedi were funded—and overseen—by the Republic Senate. Seducing their best and brightest would be next. One or two would work. But more would be better. If enough Jedi were drawn to the dark side of the Force, the cracks in the Jedi Order's armor would finally begin to show.

But Yoda did not turn…

No. He had turned. Somehow something had pulled him away, but the fact that he had succumbed to the dark was not in dispute. Yoda had accepted the power the dark side had to offer, forgoing his love of the Jedi for…what? A planet? Love?

No…

Fear…

Yes.

Yoda had surrendered to the darkness because he was afraid. That was what must be exploited. Fear of loss. The Order's fear of the loss of its Jedi to the dark side would be its undoing.

While the Jedi Order struggled to keep its precious Jedi in the light, the Sith would ensure the birth of the Sith'ari. Somewhere remote, far away from the prying eyes of the Seekers. And when the Sith'ari was ready, the Sith would lay claim to the entire Galaxy.

Kaine smiled.

Yes…

Kaine nodded.

Yes.


The stars continued to shine….

The twin suns continued to burn….

The engines continued to hum….

Migruna III continued to turn.

High above the tiny planet, the damage was impossible to see.

The tears had ebbed hours before. They had dried, untouched, against his leathery skin. Tiny crystals of salt were left in their wake, embedded within the multitudinous wrinkles that marked the centuries of life behind him. The eyes that birthed them were no longer red and swollen. Instead, they peered out at the planet in…acceptance.

Yoda released a breath that he had held far longer than he had realized. An hour earlier, the last of the escape ships had leapt into hyperspace. Absently, he wondered how his people would survive in a galaxy so foreign to them. Would they adapt? Would they grow? Would they seek each other out? Would they band together? Or…would they die? Would he and Yaddle become the last of the migru?

Closing his eyes, Yoda drew in the stale cockpit air in a deep, lingering breath.

He keyed the transmitter.

The conversation was short. She seemed to sense the anguish that had wrapped itself around him. She took the loss of Migruna III far better than he ever would. She did not press for details, seemingly satisfied with the explanation that the super-weapon no longer posed a threat. She did not even question his request to erase the existence of Migruna III from the Jedi Archives. She merely nodded assent and agreed never to speak of the planet again—even to him. Yaddle processed the news in her own way and then…she let it go.

A better Jedi than I... Yoda thought dourly as the transmission ended.

Yoda stared out at the planet a final time. The disruptions in the planet's core were subsiding, but the damage had been done. Already the shift in its orbit was wreaking havoc on Migruna's normally temperate climate. The days would be hotter, and the nights would be cooler. In a century or two, it would be nothing more than a sand-covered abandoned desert landscape in the Outer Rim. Perhaps someday it would be inhabited again by a new species. Maybe one day it would be important to him again.

As it was, he would sooner forget it altogether.

Yoda stared down at the navcomputer and confirmed the coordinates for Coruscant—home. He shook his head. No. The Jedi were his home. Attachments to physical places would only bring heartache and pain. Attachment to people only risks fear of losing them. It was fear, after all, that led him down the dark path.

Fear…

Anger…

Hate….

Suffering.

Abruptly Yoda sat up and briskly ran his hand across his face, dislodging the last remnants of the tears he had shed. Without looking down at the planet, Yoda engaged the sublight engines and angled the ship away from the planet's gravity well.

Once clear, he grasped the yoke and pushed it forward far harder than was necessary. In an instant, the starfield stretched and distorted into long white streaks, and the galaxy erupted into the blue-white swirling clouds of hyperspace.

Yoda leaned back into the hard-backed pilot's chair, his fingers steepled against his lips. He stared out of the viewscreen, unseeing.

Migruna III was gone.


The proximity alarm shattered Yoda's meditation, and his eyes shot open. Furrowing his brow, Yoda considered the remote possibility that he had somehow lost all track of time and he had been meditating for a lot longer than he realized. A quick check of the chronometer disabused him of that possibility.

Treachery is the way of the Sith.

The familiar scattering of clouds vanished in a sudden flash. Bands of light dissolved into shining points. Yoda immediately consulted the navcomputer, attempting to determine his location. As he engaged the console, the entire system shut down. A moment later, the compartment plunged into darkness, and only the starlight filtering through the transparisteel window provided any illumination.

Yoda drew his lips tight. By the time the ventilation system shut down, Yoda was no longer surprised. Frigeus had made no promises about Yoda's safety. The Sith had only promised that the ship was programmed to take him to his home, which it had been.

As the vessel drifted aimlessly, it occurred to Yoda that the Sith had never actually lied to him. In every case they had told him the truth, though never completely. Rizza had begun to seduce him the moment he had laid eyes on her. She told him the truth at every turn. That had been the power of the seduction. She had warned him about attachments, about letting go. He had never bothered to learn….

The Sith toyed with the truth in order to deceive…

That was the power of the Sith.

Deceit through honesty.

Yoda frowned.

Staring out into space, Yoda breathed deeply and stretched out with the Force. The calming eddies flowed into and through him. Focusing on the path of one tendril, he sensed a planet in the distance. With his eyes firmly closed, Yoda engaged the manual thrusters and fired them in a series of controlled bursts to point the ship toward the location in space where the planet lay.

The cockpit grew cold.

The speed of the ship would not be enough to get him to the planet before he ran out of oxygen or froze to death. Yoda sank deeper into the Force. The ship accelerated.

Size matters not. Distance matters not, he whispered in his mind.

The ship accelerated more.


Yoda never knew how long he had hurtled toward the planet. By the time the bow of the tiny ship had struck the atmosphere, a trickle of blood had oozed from his nose, and beads of cold sweat had coalesced on his furrowed brow. By the time the gravity well had grasped the ship in its powerful grip and pulled it downward, exhaustion and oxygen depravation had overtaken him, and he had lost consciousness.

He had not felt the heat of the atmosphere as it burned away the outer hull.

He had noticed the uncontrolled spin of the ship.

He never felt the automatic crash net that saved his life wrap around him an instant before the vessel struck the water.

He never heard the strain of metal as the main ramp was torn away.

He did not see the light break through the opening and kiss his worn face.

He did not feel the powerful hairy hands pull him free of the wreckage moments before it sank deep into the murky depths of the lake.

When he awoke, he was on Migruna III again. No…the homes were similar, to be sure. He was on the balcony of one of them. The houses were built into massive trees, and vines hung from branches that stretched from one tree to the next in a complex interlocking pattern. No, not Migruna.

Yoda sighed.

As he struggled to sit up, immense hands possessed of astounding strength grasped his shoulders and pushed him back onto the cot. The creature barking at him was gargantuan—as massive as Yoda was small. Yoda searched his extensive memories, and the recollection of the creatures surfaced.

"Kashyyyk…?" Yoda's voice cracked. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was drier than his throat. The creature tending to him seemed to recognize this as he handed Yoda a gourd filled with water. As Yoda stared at proffered drink, the gourd's resemblance to a bending tree nut caused a lump to form in his throat. Yoda pushed the thought aside and drank the water.

The creature barked loudly what Yoda could only assume were commands, given that a smaller creature emerged from a ladder leading up to the deck. Wookiees, Yoda remembered. They were Wookiees. He tried to remember how to interpret their utterings as the smaller one exchanged excited barks with the larger one, who Yoda assumed was the father.

At length they turned their attention back to him.

The father barked something about the child being responsible for Yoda.

"A ship, I need." Yoda said. "Return to Coruscant, I must."

The Wookiees clearly understood him, because the father entered into a series of grunts and roars that Yoda needed no memory to interpret. Yoda nodded. Apparently, he owed a life-debt to the child, as the young Wookiee had seen his ship falling and had called the adults to save him.

"Repay the debt, I will." Yoda struggled to sit up. As the father reached to push him back again, Yoda waved him off. "But return to Coruscant, I must."

The father roared again.

The words were beginning to take form in Yoda's mind. "Understand this, I do. Your son…Tarfful…under Jedi protection, he will be, for as long as I live."

Tarfful roared.

As Yoda tried to scoot off the cot, pain exploded behind his eyes. Yoda glared at his knee, and bit back the sudden rage that erupted. Closing his eyes, Yoda breathed in the calming energies of the Force.

"Stay with you, I will, until I am well," Yoda whispered at last. The two Wookiees grunted in unison, and Yoda forced a weak smile. Searching about the stark room, he spied a discarded gnarled twist of wood in a far corner. A flick of the Force, and the stick flew to his hand. Using the wood as a makeshift cane, Yoda slid off the cot. He turned to look up at Tarfful, who stood more than twice Yoda's height. "Show me around, you should."

The younger Wookiee bared his teeth in what Yoda assumed was a grin. The father nodded in clear approval and stalked out of the room.

Tarfful stared down at Yoda for a protracted moment. Yoda understood the youngling's concern. Yoda would not be able to keep up with Tarfful in his current state. Yoda shrugged. Abruptly Tarfful extended two hair-covered paws and effortlessly hoisted Yoda onto his shoulders. Yoda started to protest by nudging the boy excitedly with the stick, but Tarfful simply grabbed it with a massive paw and began stalking out of the tree-house.

Resigned, Yoda relaxed.

Tarfful barked something that Yoda did not quite grasp, but when the Wookiee took hold of a vine and used it to swing to another tree, Yoda understood it had been a warning to hold on.

As they sailed through the foliage, the fresh smell of the green trees filled the air. Wookiees could be seen in every direction. Working, playing, being together. They were a community—a family.

They were alive.

Yoda smiled.