Author's note: Once again, we're very much in the stage of setting things up, but by the end of this chapter, pretty much all the main characters would have been introduced!
As a heads-up, the psychological trauma and mental health issues I flagged earlier begin in this chapter.
Chapter Three
"You requested my presence, Masters?"
As many times as she had stood in this circular chamber atop the Jedi Temple spire, Yaqeel Saav'etu had never felt entirely at ease before the Jedi High Council. Though Yaqeel herself held the rank of Master, she knew that those seated around her represented the very best of the Jedi Order: those who had proved themselves to possess not only an exceptional understanding of the Force and its higher mysteries, but also the leadership skills needed to give the Order direction. Yaqeel's seventy-five years of age placed her well into the twilight of the average Bothan lifespan. Her greying, thinning fur belied the strength and longevity that came with a lifetime of Jedi training and connection to the Force. Yet in all her decades of service to the Order, Yaqeel had never been invited to sit on the Council.
Through the majestic chamber windows and the tinted transparisteel pyramid that encased the High Council Tower, the Coruscant cityscape stretched to the horizon, gently bathing in the rays of the evening sun. Built from blueprints salvaged from the old Jedi Archives, the Temple was a near-exact reconstruction of that which had housed the Order before the Great Jedi Purge of over a century ago. Yaqeel could not know for certain what the luminaries who had sat on the Council in those days would think of the Order that the great Luke Skywalker had rebuilt from virtual extinction. Still, she liked to believe that those Masters of old would be honoured to see the Jedi Knights maintaining peace and justice across the galaxy and upholding the light side values of compassion, wisdom, and harmony like they had done for millennia.
As it happened, one of the few still-living beings to have served in the Old Jedi Order was the first to answer Yaqeel's question.
"Master Saav'etu," the Whiphid Master K'Kruhk began with a gentle tone that seemed curiously at odds with his species' fearsome, tusked appearance. "As you might be aware, in recent months we've seen several disconcerting raids on ancient Jedi and Sith sites across the galaxy. Although we can't say for certain, from the close pattern across all these cases, we suspect we're dealing with a single perpetrator."
At the grizzled Master's words, the holo-projector in the middle of the chamber whirred into life. An image flickered before Yaqeel and the seated Council Masters. It seemed to be footage from a security holo-cam. It showed a dimly lit corridor in what Yaqeel could only assume to be an old stone building. From somewhere just out of sight, Yaqeel could hear the familiar crackle of two lightsaber blades crossing. About a minute later, a pair of figures edged into view. One was dressed in the traditional brown and tan garments of the Jedi Order, carefully backing down the hallway with their lightsaber in a defensive stance. Despite the imperfect image quality, Yaqeel could easily make out the hornlike projections and dangling tails on both sides of the Jedi's head: the distinctive montrals of the Togruta species.
The Jedi's opponent was clad from head to toe in eerie, black robes. A dark hood and helmet hid the attacker's face completely. Yaqeel's mind jumped to pictures of the iconic Mandalorian mask worn by the ancient Sith Lord Revan she had seen in books and holocrons. The figure's right hand gripped their own lightsaber. It was unlike any Yaqeel had seen. As well as the long, glowing blade characteristic of the famed weapon, a pair of much smaller blades protruded horizontally from the top of the hilt to form a cross-guard. Limited as the holo-recording's colour palette was, Yaqeel took the blades to be a vibrant red, set against the tranquil blue of the Togruta's lightsaber.
The mysterious assailant struck with a horizontal slash. The Jedi immediately blocked and countered. Plasma hissed as the blades locked together, each combatant channelling their strength to break the impasse. Suddenly, the Jedi's face contorted in a bloodcurdling scream. Visibly wincing, the Togruta buckled over. Their lightsaber slipped to the floor as their hands flew to the sides of their head. Before Yaqeel could discern what had happened, the black-robed attacker ran their blade through the Jedi's chest. Deactivating the lightsaber as the Togruta's body slumped to the cold stone floor, the enigmatic figure glanced over their shoulder. Their masked face looked directly into the holo-cam before raising and flicking their hand. The holographic image terminated, bringing Yaqeel's attention back to the Council Chamber.
"That was security footage we received from a protected site on Dantooine this morning," came a familiar voice from Yaqeel's left. The Bothan Jedi turned to face an elderly, kind-faced human woman. Though the Master's shoulder-length hair had been grey for many years now, Yaqeel could almost see the reddish-brown hues it had once possessed. This was Yaqeel's lifelong friend Jysella Horn.
Jysella continued, taking care to avoid an overly familiar tone. "That's the fifth such site that's been raided like this in the past standard year. The pattern's the same: a robed, masked figure with a distinctive lightsaber overcomes the Knight assigned to guard the site and steals various ancient texts and holocrons. From what we can gather, this raider – cautiously assuming it's the same one each time – belongs to the Knights of Ren."
The Knights of Ren. That elusive order of Force users had become infamous as late, though Yaqeel knew little of them beyond their shadowy reputation. Sensing her reaction, another Council Master spoke, this time from Yaqeel's right.
"In truth," began the old Cerean Master Marr Idi-Shael, "we have precious little intel on the Knights of Ren. We know practically nothing of their doctrines or even their Force alignment. We know that their members have a certain predisposition towards dark side techniques, but we have no indication as to how they relate to older orders like the Sith. Likewise, we and our contacts in GA Intelligence are aware of some connection between the Knights of Ren and the First Order, but its precise nature remains remarkably unclear. That is why we are sending you to investigate."
Only Yaqeel's years of Jedi discipline kept the shock off her face. "Masters, I'm deeply honoured, but I confess I'm somewhat at a loss as to why you've chosen me."
"It's quite simple, Master Saav'etu," replied Master K'Krukh. "This is a mission that calls for experience in infiltration, which your service record clearly shows you possess. We also want a mission this delicate in the hands of a reliable, long-serving Master. You see, Master Saav'etu, to conduct the investigation, you'll have to cross the border into Imperial Space."
So, you decided to send the Bothan to do your spy work? Yaqeel inwardly remarked with a quiet chuckle, recalling her people's interstellar reputation for espionage and subterfuge. "I see, Master K'Krukh. I assume that this is a…favour of sorts for GA Intelligence?"
"While I wouldn't put it quite so bluntly," Jysella answered for her fellow Council Masters, "there's a certain…shall we say…political convenience to the arrangement. As you're no doubt aware, Chief Handor knows there's something Emperor Fel isn't telling him about the First Order but given the tense situation between the Alliance and the Empire, he's wary of what might happen if the Imperials were to discover GA Intelligence agents snooping around that corner of their space. Since, legally speaking, the Jedi Order isn't part of the Alliance government, Handor and GA Intelligence see this as a golden opportunity to uncover exactly what Fel's keeping under wraps."
All the while giving themselves plausible deniability, Yaqeel mentally added. She took a slight pause as she wondered how to phrase her next question. "I will do as the Council asks of me. Tell me, Masters: does anything suggest that these new developments with the Knights of Ren are in some way connected with what happened to Master Skywalker?"
A deathly silence fell across the Council Chamber. About ten standard years ago, Master Skywalker, one of the Council's most respected members, departed on what was supposed to be a five-year leave of absence to find and research ancient Jedi sites. Over the first two years of his travels, Skywalker's reports back to the Council became increasingly irregular before stopping altogether. The scheduled year of his return came and went without so much as a message to confirm that he was still alive. Now he had been missing for nearly a decade.
Master Idi-Shael broke the stillness. "While we cannot say for certain if there is a connection, given how the Knights of Ren began to appear within the same time frame as Master Skywalker's disappearance, and how both series of events involve millennia-old Jedi sites and artefacts, we do have certain…suspicions."
Yaqeel politely nodded in acknowledgement, diplomatically opting not to push what was clearly a sensitive point. Still, Master Idi-Shael's answer made this mission even more intriguing. While Yaqeel was certainly conscious of her assignment's stakes and wary of its background politics, there was an undeniable appeal in the prospect of answering a great many questions the Order had asked in recent years. Besides, Yaqeel noted inwardly, a little trip outside Alliance Space should provide a welcome change of scenery!
"…we now return to Arahnos, where lively crowds have gathered to see the Imperial delegation meet the Hapan and Arahnosi leaders to complete the handover, ending a century of Imperial sovereignty over this system."
A loud slam reverberated through the chamber. Tearing their eyes from the screen, the Imperial officers turned towards the source of the noise. They were greeted with the sight of General Armitage Hux standing bent over his desk, propped up by both fists on its metallic surface.
"What were they thinking?", the young general barked to no one in particular as his fellow officers nervously wondered whether replying or keeping quiet would be the wiser course of action. "Sith! Back when I was a boy, my father was stationed there! I still remember all those summers I spent running and splashing at the riverside with the native children! Now we're just letting the whole planet slip through our fingers?"
"In fairness, General", Captain Baruss cautiously began as he stepped towards the senior officer's workstation. "Even after all that business with the First Order, Kree'os looks well on course for accession, so maybe Arahnos won't be such a major loss for us?"
Hux let out an exasperated laugh. "Okay, so Kree'os might join us. But you know what our predecessors did when the Empire needed something? They took it! They knew exactly what we were entitled to and how to get it! I mean, look at this!" Hux gestured around the room before continuing. "Here we are aboard one of the most cutting-edge battlecruisers the Imperial Navy has to offer and what are we doing? We're sitting here, punching up data in the backwaters of Imperial Space while our glorious leaders are off trying to woo new systems into our arms with flowery promises of infrastructure investments and medical supplies!"
Realising how many people were now staring at him, Hux gave a loud sigh and turned to leave. While his secondment to the Imperial Navy had lasted for a good two standard years now, many naval officers were still understandably uneasy about having an army officer in a fleet command position. Still, Hux knew that most of them probably agreed with him on the current state of the Empire. Striding down the winding corridors to his quarters, he mulled over what he had just said to Baruss. It was true: the Steadfast was the first of what would hopefully be many of the new Resurgent-class Star Destroyers to come out of the Ord Trasi shipyards. Bristling with turbolasers, ion cannons, and missile emplacements, it was almost twice the length of the Imperial II-class that for decades had struck fear into the hearts of all who dared oppose the Empire.
And all that power's just floating here wasted! Hux vented inwardly as he stepped into his quarters, slamming and locking the metal door behind him. Collapsing into his chair with a sigh, he pulled open the nearest drawer. Reaching inside, his fingers grasped a familiar glass neck. Gripping the half-finished Whyren's Reserve bottle, Hux pulled his chair to the dark wroshyr-wood table in the middle of the room. As he poured himself a glass of the rare Corellian whiskey, Hux's eyes drifted up to the tall, ornately framed paintings mounted on the wall ahead. Each was a striking portrait of one of his ancestors. For generations, his family had proudly served as Imperial Army officers. Hux could remember how he struggled to contain his joy the day he graduated from the Academy, knowing it was finally his turn to wear the uniform. Yet for all that his present garb resembled that of the towering figures before him, Hux could not help but feel like a sham.
His forefathers had earned their ranks through glorious conquest. Next to them, Hux was little more than a dressed-up bureaucrat. For years he had been stuck pushing pens, inspecting troops, and conducting wargames on an army base far from anything remotely resembling an actual battlefield. That was why he had requested secondment to the Imperial Navy. While the traditional rivalries between the different service branches of the Imperial armed forces ran deep as ever, he had hoped that a stint with a battle fleet would provide more opportunities to see proper military action. That was how he had ended up here on the Steadfast. Yet all he had found was the same ennui with a different routine: just week-in, week-out of standard patrols and administrative tasks. As his gaze met that of his great-grandfather's portrait, Hux swore he could see the disappointment welling in the old man's eyes.
Sighing heavily, Hux raised his glass to the row of paintings. "To the Empire!"
He savoured the strong, smoky liquid as it washed over his tongue and down his throat.
"You don't have to keep feeling sorry for yourself."
Hux coughed at the sudden utterance behind him, spluttering whiskey over the table. Did I not lock the door properly? Spinning around, his eyes scoured the room. At first, he saw nothing, making him wonder if he had simply imagined the voice. Then something began to emerge from the shadows on the far side of his quarters. The tall, dark shape stepped beneath the dim light hanging from the ceiling. Now Hux could see that it was a humanoid in black robes. Studying the silver inlay of the pitch-dark helmet that covered the figure's head, Hux quickly realised who this mysterious intruder must be.
"Would it kill you to knock?", spat Hux as he rose to meet the unwelcome visitor, keeping one eye on the glinting lightsaber hilt clipped to the masked man's belt. Though the figure had never shown his face or even given a name, Hux knew him to be a Knight of Ren. While the ways of the Force were an enigma to him, Hux had occasionally experienced the presence of Force-sensitives. Every so often over his years of service, the young officer had stood in the same room as an Imperial Knight. Even though he possessed no Force talents, Hux could feel something very different in the air around the black-robed figure: something cold and lingering.
"I considered it," the dark Knight replied in ominous tones punctuated by mechanically filtered breaths. "But I reasoned that, at least for now, you'd prefer me not to draw attention to our little get-together. Besides, is this any way to greet an old friend?"
Hux suppressed a sigh. "Any reason you couldn't do this by holo-call like you normally do?"
"Let's just say that things are moving faster now."
"If you're here to give me the pitch to join the First Order again, you know it's going to take a lot more than a few grand promises for me to commit treason!"
"Treason?!"
The visitor's sudden shift in demeanour made Hux freeze in place. He did not need to be Force-sensitive to notice the pure rage exuding from the figure's voice and stance. Glancing at the drawer beside him, Hux wondered if he could grab his blaster pistol should his uninvited guest turn hostile. He quickly realised it would be unwise to attempt such a thing mere metres away from a man with Force-augmented reflexes.
Just then, the Knight relaxed his posture, and some of the anger hanging in the air dissipated. "Treason?", he laughed through the unnerving distortions of his helmet's rebreather unit, his voice laced with mock indignation. "Tell me, Hux: is it treason to oppose an emperor who's forsaken his empire's legacy? Who tells his people that their glorious past should fill them with shame? Besides, we both know that, if you truly were so loyal to the Pretender on Bastion, you'd have gone straight to your superiors the first time I contacted you. Yet here we are!"
Hux opened his mouth to respond in defiance, but the words died in his throat. As much as he hated to admit it, the masked intruder was right. If anything was holding him back from joining the First Order, it had little to do with his oath of loyalty. Instead, his greatest fears were over how much he would be throwing away by defecting. However much his family name had sped up the process, and however much he felt unworthy of his uniform, it had taken years for him to reach the rank of general. Could he really sacrifice all that?
Sensing Hux's hesitance, the Knight gestured towards the paintings on the wall. "Look at them, Hux! They were men who knew how to build an empire! Their kind may be rare now, but the Supreme Leader still recognises talent and ambition. He sees them in you, Hux. Do you really think someone like Fel is ever going to restore the Empire to greatness? The First Order can win back our lost glory, but to succeed, it needs people like you."
Hux stood still before the looming portraits. Through his mind flashed images of the conquering armies his ancestors had led to bring honour to the family and to the Empire. To have the opportunity to do the same? But could I truly…?
After several seconds deep in thought, Hux turned to give his answer. An empty room greeted him. Dashing to unlock and open the door, Hux leaned his head into the hallway and glanced in both directions. There was no one in sight.
Shutting and locking the door once more, Hux slumped back into his chair and held a long, silent stare into space.
"Chief Teq'ah, I can't thank you enough for being willing to meet like this."
"Think nothing of it – you Resistance fighters answered our pleas when nobody else would. We only hope that what we have brought you is useful."
Poe Dameron smiled at the blue-skinned patriarch's enthusiasm to assist. Beyond the thin hut roof above them, the night sky of Ilis glowed an ominous, dark purple, occasionally flickering with discharges from nearby plasma storms. Those same storms had long helped to mask the First Order's movements in this region of space. As such, this untamed corner of the Outer Rim had come to know the First Order's terror intimately well. That was why the Resistance had formed in the first place. At first, citizens on those frontier worlds of the Empire where the First Order had made its presence felt turned to the Imperial authorities for help. Their pleas came to nothing: Bastion made only tokenistic acknowledgement of the First Order threat, consistently downplaying the extent of the problem, while the local governors were either too weak or too sympathetic to the First Order's cause to do anything. Realising that their government would not protect them, those Imperial citizens began to organise and take up arms in self-defence. In time, these partisan cells grew and coalesced into the Resistance.
Soon word spread across the Imperial border about what was happening in the Outlands. Once it became clear that their own governments would not intervene out of fear of provoking a conflict with the Empire, civilians from elsewhere in the galaxy eager to fight for the Resistance and to supply them with weapons and ships started forming 'Interstellar Brigades' to make the perilous journey to the Imperial frontier. That was how Poe had come to the Resistance. He was a GA citizen from a long line of committed republicans. Since infancy he had looked back in awe at the brave Rebel Alliance that toppled Palpatine and restored the Republic almost a hundred years ago. He had therefore needed little convincing to sign up for the Interstellar Brigades and lend his skills as a pilot and operative.
That was three years ago. Now here he was on some Force-forsaken world in the Outlands with the First Order practically breathing down his neck. With none of the galactic powers willing to lend direct support, the Resistance relied heavily on refurbishing and upgrading old surplus ships and vehicles they could acquire cheaply. That was why Poe had spent the past few weeks flying around this storm-riddled sector of the Outer Rim in a refitted version of a venerable X-wing starfighter. The Resistance leadership had tasked him with gathering intelligence on what they feared to be an imminent, major push by the First Order.
Returning his mind to the present, Poe glanced down at the small parchment the Ilisian village elder's lower pair of hands had produced from inside his robe. Sketched upon it were several elaborate symbols he did not recognise, surrounded by various annotations, some in what Poe could only take to be the local language, others in Galactic Basic. Taking hold of the document, Poe glanced up at the old patriarch's four beady eyes and shifting mandibles, silently prompting him to elaborate.
"Just over a standard year ago," began Teq'ah in peculiarly melodic tones, "a Knight of Ren came to our village, asking us about certain ancient Sith sites not far from here. He wanted to know if we could tell him more about these symbols. We complied but, despite his courteous demeanour, we felt it in our carapaces that he had some ill motive, so we secretly kept these notes on what he was researching. Our instincts proved true: as the days went by, we found that he was prone to angry outbursts when aggravated. One night, we overheard an especially loud fit of frustration from inside his hut. We could hear him shouting furiously and turning over furniture. Just as we were approaching the hut to check on him, we realised that he was making a subspace call. As you can see, we could make out and note down only patches of his conversation, but we heard enough to discover that he was conducting his research for the First Order."
Poe grimaced as he studied the parchment more carefully. Now he could make out various names in the scrawl. Some he recognised as planets; others he assumed to be ancient Sith Lords. There were also numerous references to a 'Great Cleansing'. He had heard those ominous words several times in the fragments of First Order communications he had managed to intercept and decrypt while travelling through this hostile region of space. Likewise, Poe could see multiple mentions of fleet movements that seemed to corroborate his existing intel, as well as what appeared to be promises of 'resurgence'. "These symbols…I take it they're Sith? What do they mean?"
"We know that they relate to some lost Sith ritual. Alas, our knowledge of such matters is not what it used to be, but as you can see from the translation we have produced so far, it is clearly linked to something destructive."
Poe sighed sharply through gritted teeth. "I was afraid you'd say that – the Resistance has suspected for some time that the First Order's been working with the Knights of Ren to create some kind of weapon. Exactly how this connects with either the increasing number of First Order ships in this region or the bombing on Kree'os, I'm still not sure, but maybe one of the worlds mentioned here could give me some further lea-"
A distant, foreboding rumble interrupted Poe's trail of thought. A split-second's eye contact with the Ilisian chieftain confirmed that he had heard it too. Pocketing the parchment, Poe dashed for the hut door, pushed aside the cloth covering, and darted into the night air. Turning his head towards the purple sky, his eyes found exactly what he had feared: the forbidding, wedge-shaped outline of an orbiting Star Destroyer.
"They're onto us! If I can get to my figh-"
Before the words could leave Poe's lips, a luminous green bolt streaked down from the heavens. It struck the ground just beyond the outermost huts of the village, lighting the surrounding mounds in a brilliant flash. Poe's stomach hollowed as his eyes took in the flaming, scattered remains of his X-wing right where the turbolaser shot had landed.
The familiar drone of approaching landers sent further shudders down his spine. Just then, Poe felt a hand grasping his arm from behind. "Quickly!", hissed Teq'ah. "We will hide you as best we can! And if it looks like they are about to find you, be ready to destroy that parchment! This way – hurry!"
"So, you believe that the rumours about the First Order's rapid growth and about Emperor Fel not giving us the whole picture are exaggerations?"
"In a word, yes! However you look at it, the Alliance has a very strong interest in discrediting Fel and the First Order situation gives them a perfect opportunity to do just that. In truth, Fel has done more for galactic peace and security than any other leader today. If you ask me, seeing how many decades it's been since they were in the business of invading and occupying foreign systems, it's completely wrong to say that Fel's so-called 'Empire' is still an empire in any meaningful sense!"
"But Doctor Yar-Off-Akis – don't they still call themselves 'the Galactic Empire'?"
Before the prolific Tiss'shar academic and commentator could respond to the interviewer in his characteristically certain tones, Zin Resar switched off the portable HoloNet receiver. It was a modest device, not helped by the very uneven communications infrastructure along the Outer Rim in general, but it remained one of the few ways in which people on a world as far into the Imperial Outlands as Cheren could keep abreast of galactic developments.
Placing the receiver into the inside pocket of his long, brown jacket, Resar felt the evening rays falling lightly upon his tanned skin. Those same rays lent a warm glow to the rows of worn buildings that lined the street ahead. While certainly not as inhospitable as other worlds on the Outer Rim, Cheren had seen better days. Perhaps best known for its traditionally high levels of military recruitment, years ago Cheren had also been something of an industrial hub for the farthest regions of the Empire: a reasonably prosperous producer of agricultural equipment and other important goods. Yet much of that manufacturing base had long since moved to systems that the Imperial government had deemed safer and very few new industries had moved in to replace it. For decades Cheren had lain economically stagnant.
Scratching the back of his horned head, Resar glanced down and tried to envisage himself in the grey and khaki uniform he would soon be wearing every day. Like many across the galaxy, the Zabrak vividly recalled the sheer horror and outrage he had felt upon seeing the images from Kree'os. More than anything, he had wanted to hit back at the First Order. He also knew from conversations with other locals that, in recent months, First Order activity had increased significantly in nearby systems. Given this, and how much Resar had struggled to find other gainful employment, signing up for the Imperial Army seemed the obvious choice. Still, he found it curious how evasive his new military superiors became whenever he brought up the First Order's heightened presence in the region.
"Hey Zin – wait up!"
Resar turned at the familiar voice. Jogging towards him was his friend and fellow cadet Evo Hisan. The blonde-topped human male came to a stop beside the Zabrak, a warm smile plastered across his slightly weathered features. "So," Hisan continued, "can you make it to the meeting? I'm on my way now – almost there, actually!"
"Oh, that!", Resar realised with embarrassment. "Sorry, it completely slipped my mind! Had quite a bit to get through today and, honestly, that first training session at the barracks took a lot out of me! I think I'll just go get some shut-eye."
"You sure? There's gonna be some pretty exciting stuff!"
Resar chuckled at his friend's enthusiasm. "I'm sure you're right, but I'm also sure I need some rest! Catch you tomorrow!"
"Sure thing – see you later!"
Just as the Zabrak had turned around the corner ahead, Hisan ducked into the dark alley. Finding and hurrying down the stairs behind one of the many grim buildings on the row, he came to a metallic basement door and rapped his knuckles upon it. Moments later, it creaked open. With quiet, urgent steps, Hisan made his way along a short stretch of corridor until he stepped into the cavernous, dimly lit cellar.
While surprisingly spacious, especially for this part of town, Hisan could see that the cellar was jam-packed. Attendees of all species either stood against the grey walls or sat on the cold, hard floor. Hisan could not help but notice how many of them were wearing Imperial military uniforms. In the centre of the excited assembly towered a bald, white-skinned figure draped in a black travel cloak. If Hisan was not mistaken, this was a male Rattataki – a rather unusual sight this far from their homeworld.
Suddenly, the figure raised his arms and the room fell silent. "Brothers! Sisters! Beings from all walks of life! Thank you for finding the time to come here tonight. As we are all aware, we live in trying times. From his palace on Bastion, Fel waxes lyrical about his Empire's generosity. But tell me – where was that generosity while Cheren and other worlds on the Empire's borders fell into decay? For generations, this world has made sacrifice after sacrifice for the Empire. The Force alone knows how many Cherenian lives have been given in the line of duty! So where was your so-called Emperor's famous generosity? I'll tell you: it was off sending humanitarian aid to foreign systems while your world lay here in ruin!"
Affirmative shouts and cries of indignation broke out across the room. That's right! Hisan spat internally. If Fel can pump all those supplies and credits into worlds that aren't even Imperial, then why can't he do the same for us?
After a few seconds of letting the crowd's energy build, the speaker continued. "Fear not, my fellow Imperials! The Pretender's regime on Bastion might have forgotten your plight, but the First Order will do no such thing! The First Order remembers that the glory of the Empire was built on the sacrifices of brave Imperial souls! Never again will committed servants of the Empire languish hopelessly! Together, we will build a galaxy where every being can feel they have a place in the cosmos – a galaxy united under a single, strong Empire that will bring peace, justice, and fulfilment to all! A galaxy where none of you will ever be forgotten again!"
At that, the speaker pulled a small booklet from inside his cloak and held it aloft. "But don't take my word for it! Take these pamphlets and learn our Supreme Leader's vision yourself! See for yourself how, thanks to him, we have a new hope for the first time in decades! Come and speak with us, and we will happily arrange for someone to meet with you and discuss his ideas in depth!"
To the Rattataki's delight, here and there attendees were already scrambling towards the First Order members in the room holding wads of literature. "And remember: we are not alone! Across the galaxy, First Order cells like ours have taken root and are growing rapidly! Soon we will burn away the rot in our Empire that for too long the Fel Pretender has allowed to take root! Take courage, friends: a new Imperial dawn is about to break!"
The crowd erupted into a chorus of cheers and cries.
"Down with the False Emperor!"
"Long live the Supreme Leader!"
"Remain Imperial!"
Yaqeel gave her tea one last absent-minded stir before taking a sip. It was a rare Alderaanian blend she had grown fond of in recent years: dark, bold, and slightly smoky, best served after two minutes of brewing. The ceramic mug warmed her hands as she sat at the long table. Despite the occasional rushes of activity, including the odd group of young students grabbing a bite between lessons with the Masters, the dining hall's atmosphere was as soothing as ever. It was one of Yaqeel's favourite spots in the Jedi Temple. She had come here many times to clear her mind when something was troubling her.
Just as Yaqeel was taking her second sip, she heard a voice she knew very well indeed. "Hey Yaqeel! Mind if we sit with you?"
The old Bothan gave a welcoming smile and gestured to the free spaces around her. It was Jysella and her older brother Valin. The two children of the famed Jedi Master Corran Horn happily took their seats across the table. Like his sister's, Valin's brown hair had long greyed and many wrinkles had come to texture his light skin, but he remained as easy-going and level-headed as ever. While his hazel eyes silently spoke to the toll of a lifetime's service in the Order, they also held a spark that no number of decades seemed to dim.
Valin was the first to speak after all of them were seated. "Jysella was just telling me about your new mission. Sounds like the Council's given you a real honour!"
Yaqeel gave a small sigh. "I suppose they have."
The Horn siblings looked at their old friend with slight concern. "Yaqeel", began Jysella. "You seem a little…unenthused. Is there something wrong?"
If you only knew, Yaqeel mentally remarked before answering. "I don't know – some days it feels like I'm just going through the motions. I haven't taken on an apprentice in years. I struggle to get much out of the things I do for the Order. And while I know a Jedi shouldn't get hung up on things like personal advancement, it still feels…amiss to see all these Jedi our age or younger getting invitations to sit on the Council, but not me. I don't mean that in an envious or resentful way. I mean that I can't help that gnawing feeling in the back of my head that I'm stuck; that, instead of developing further as a Jedi and as a person, I'm just drifting in circles. Do you get what I'm trying to say?"
Jysella and Valin both met her eyes with a reassuring smile. "We get you, Yaqeel," Valin answered with characteristic gentleness. "We all know that the pressures of being a Jedi Master can be enormous and nobody's going to force you to take on a new Padawan or anything like that. I can also assure you that, if the Council chose you for this mission, then you must be doing something right. And if you're finding it hard to get fulfilment out of your duties here in the Temple, then maybe an assignment like this can bring you something new to get excited about?"
Yaqeel flattened her long, pointed ears in what both Horn siblings recognised as a Bothan sign of affection and gratitude. "Thanks, Valin. Tell me – do you…do you ever-"
Try as Yaqeel may, the words kept faltering. Noticing his friend's nervousness, Valin reached over the table to place a supporting hand on the Bothan's shoulder. "It's all right, Yaqeel. Whatever's on your mind, you're among friends here."
Yaqeel gave a weak smile at the older Horn sibling's words. Would it really be fair of me to spring this on them like this?, she wondered as her eyes shifted between Valin and Jysella. After all, it was just as horrific an experience for them as it was for me. Then again, if I can't talk about it with these two, I seriously doubt I'd be able to talk about it with anyone else…
Taking a quick breath, Yaqeel steeled her nerves and voiced the question. "Do either of you think much about…what happened to us?"
The Horn siblings gave each other a knowing glance before looking around to check that nobody else was in earshot. Just over fifty standard years ago, a mysterious psychosis seized multiple Jedi. Together with their Ramoan companion Bazel 'Barv' Warv, Jysella, Valin, and Yaqeel were collectively known as 'the Unit', one of the most close-knit and enduring friendship groups in the Order. Valin had been the second known case of the psychosis; in time, all four members of the Unit were among the afflicted. Jysella shuddered as she recalled the paranoid delusions that had gripped them all; how each of them had become utterly convinced that everyone else had been secretly replaced by imposters.
Eventually, it transpired that the illness was being caused by an extremely powerful Force entity called Abeloth. The entity had unknowingly contacted the affected Knights when they were Jedi younglings aboard the space station Shelter in the black hole cluster known as the Maw. The children had been evacuated there during the Yuuzhan Vong War, whose galaxy-wide devastation was keenly felt even now. Thanks to the legendary Luke Skywalker, Abeloth was defeated, and the Force psychosis was lifted.
"I definitely think about it, Yaqeel," replied Jysella after several seconds of intense recollection, checking again that no one else was in hearing range. "I also think about what it would be like if Barv were still here." A downcast expression crept over all three Jedi's faces at the mention of Barv. The brave Ramoan had given his life defending the young Allana Solo from a Sith ambush. Yaqeel quietly raised her mug while Jysella and Valin bowed their heads in respect of their fallen friend.
Valin was the first to break the moment of silence. "I think it's safe to say that was an extremely trying time for all of us. There's days when I swear I can sense Barv in the room with us. Still, I'm grateful that we still have each other and that Master Luke was able to save us."
Yaqeel gave a smile and nod. Beneath her reassured exterior, she was reliving another moment of terror, only this memory was not from five decades ago. It was from last night when she spent thirty minutes frozen in bed, trying to shut out the voices coming from the walls, floor, and ceiling. "Yes, Valin. I'm glad that Master Skywalker solved everything."
Author's note: As you might have gathered, Teq'ah is the equivalent of Lor San Tekka in Canon. I just used an OC of a different species because, as I'd shifted the location of Poe's capture scene away from Jakku, and Tekka was only a minor character in The Force Awakens, it seemed a suitable place to add some species variety.
As always, I look forward to reviews!