Chapter 3
The stars shone cold in the warm and muggy night on Yavin IV. Leia took a deep breath. Down here, the air was peaceful. Above her, rogue stars slowly crept across the night sky: Imperial ships, cruising back and forth in their ceaseless patrol of the system, altering the constellations as the hours ticked by. Below her, thousands of beings milled about in the Massassi temple: generals, officers, servicemen and women, all running from task to task in a sea of hurried preparation. But up here, it was quiet and still, only the soft buzz of the jungle below.
"Not as deadly from down here, are they?"
Leia was startled. She turned from her seat on the stones to see a slim sillhouette held against the orange backdrop of Yavin Prime. Chancellor Mothma stood tall and regal even in solitude atop the Massassi temple. Like a sculpture of a queen engraved in sharp relief, her noble face was upturned to the canopy of stars. But Leia could tell her shoulders were heavy with stress and weariness. Below them all the lives milling about in their duties depended soley on her decisions in the next few days. Half a dozen generals waited for her orders, hundreds of officers under them waited for theirs, and thousands of men and women were anxiously waiting for the command to run, to hide, to fight.
Leia looked back up. "No," she said quietly, "they don't seem to be."
They sat in silence for a while while the minutes ticked by, before either spoke again. "Have you had a chance to speak with Ackbar yet?" Leia asked.
Mothma shook her head. "Our meeting is scheduled for 2200. I heard he may have a solution for us."
"Or so he claims. Judging him, I can't say how much of a long shot it will be."
Mothma smiled gently. "That's Ackbar. He'll do anything and everything to help us off this moon."
"Yes." Leia bit her lip. "We need to take any chance we can get."
"Any chance to get us out of this humidity."
Leia paused, taken off her balance for a moment at Mothma's deadpan statement. They glanced at each other, and Mothma cocked an eyebrow. A playful smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and simultaneously they both broke into sudden laughter. Maybe it was the tension in the atmosphere, or the absurdity, but their amusement rippled out across the top of the Temple with all the built-up anxiety they carried. Mothma wiped a tear from her eye. "I'm sorry. I don't know where my mind is at these days."
"Nothing to apologize for," said Leia. She smiled once more up at the stars.
Mothma shifted and tapped her robe pocket. "I believe my comlink just buzzed." She pointed up at the sky at a small speck of quick-moving light. "That must be his shuttle there." She took a step towards the stairs that led down off the temple's peak. "Are you coming?"
"I will." Leia said. "Just give me another minute."
"Alright. Meet us in the war room." Mothma's quiet footsteps padded away down the temple steps. Leia leaned back and stared up again at the soft-lit canopy of stars spread overhead. Near the massive orange body of Yavin Prime, another bright object added its own radiance to the night sky: another foreign body to the small moon. Up there gasses were still slowly burning away, a holosign marking the Death Star's graveyard. It was a warning they made themselves, a signal to the Imperial fleet waiting in far system orbit that forced them to hesitate, and weigh their next moves carefully. She wondered how many star systems its light had already reached. What other peoples were looking up at their beacon. What other systems were already feeling the spark of rebellion.
More quiet footsteps tapped up the stairs. It wasn't Mon Mothma though. She turned, puzzled at who would be up here at this hour.
"Leia?" A familiar voice called out across the rooftop.
She relaxed. "I'm here Luke."
The sandy-haired farmboy came slowly over. "Sorry, I didn't realize anyone would be up here."
"It's alright," she smiled. "I was just about to go." She waited for an reply, but Luke was already staring up at the sky. There was a slight strangeness to his stance. "Is there something wrong?" she asked.
"I don't think so" he said, but his words sounded like his mind was absent. His eyes were fixed up at one particular point of light next to the rubble of the Death Star's tomb, as if he was trying to see into it.
She rose and stood beside him. "Hey," she placed her hands on his shoulders. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know," he said. "It's just a feeling."
"Like what?"
"Like-," he laughed slowly but nerviously. "Nothing. You're going to laugh."
"I won't, really." He sat down slowly, and she sat with him. His face grew still, his eyes searching but still fixed on one point. "Luke?" she asked.
He shook himself, grabbed her hand, and smiled. "Really, it's nothing. Don't worry about it." The strange mood vanished and he was himself again. Leia felt the last bits of stress fade from her shoulders, and leaned against him as they sat together on the temple roof. No more words passed between them, but there was a warmth in being next to him, and she felt there was something important in her staying. She checked her comlink. Ackbar hadn't called her yet. She looked up at the stippled vault above them. The star Luke had been transfixed by still shone down. She found herself watching it too. It gleamed just as brilliant and cold as all the others. Was it moving? Perhaps. She glanced over at Luke. His face was turned away from it, but in the darkness she couldn't tell where his eyes were directed. She shivered. Wind had begun to pick up across the roof. She felt her eyes pulled to the star again. Luke may have been right; there was something that unsettled her about that star.
A sea.. He was floating in a murky ocean. The cold water flowed past his body, tugging on his nerve cords.
Where am I?
He was on his ship. No. His ship was wrecked. Warp jump. No power. It was broken. He was somewhere else.
Must return to the ship.
The clouded waters didn't let him see anything. There was gray all around him, cold gray that dimmed his sight and muddled his senses. Was he in a room?
A disturbance in the water. A slow rush. His ears could only make out the faintest sound.
He fell back into darkness.
He woke once again, slowly. Light pierced the depths above him. He was rising, slowly. Water flowed past him, rushing and hissing over his ears. The light became harsh, uncomfortable. He raised his scaley hand to shield his eyes, but his arms refused to move.
Slowly, a gray ceiling resolved. A glaring overhead lamp assailed his eyes. He lay on cold metal, his wrists were restrained. He attempted to look around the room, but his head was so tightly restrained that he could only see the edges of the bare metal walls of the small room. Peace, he said to himself. He slowed and let oxygen flow into his skin. Struggling would get him nowhere. He must calm his mind and understand how he had ended up here. Khas, may your teachings guide and keep me, he prayed quietly to himself. His last memory was of succumbing to a cold grip on his mind. His nerve cords tingled at the thought of that viselike grasp.
His ears suddenly became aware of something. He stopped, listening. The sound of rushing water was still there, but it was sharper, like a slow intake of breath, steady as if something robotic was taking in oxygen. With an audible snap it switched direction and with a hiss it exhaled. He shifted his gaze to the side. He could not see what was in the room, but something cold sat just out of his sight.
The reflections in the ceiling shifted and the chill set in his bones. A black mask loomed over him, staring down out of soulless black eyepieces. "Excellent, you are awake. We may begin." He wrenched his wrists involuntarily but the metal straps held them down. The eyes continued to stare, unblinking. "It is useless to resist. You might have power of a kind, but here it is insignificant." A black-gloved finger crooked in front of his face. "And now to determine just what you are." He felt the cold claws dig once more into his mind. His strength was drained, his mind too weak to object. A searing pain rippled up his nerve cord and down to his toes as the claws cracked his barrier like thin glass. He was simultaneously submerged in a sea of fire, assailed by needles of ice, while knives drew ragged gashes up the back of his legs. His eyes were flooded with a light so brilliant he would hear the photons slamming into his skull, were it not for the hurricane already raging in his head.
The assult waned. Above him, the lamp pummeled his eyes with a trillion specks of light.
"Amusing. Your resilience is admirable." The figure leaned more closely over him.. "When I found you, I first thought you were but a casual scavenger, yet, your resistance proves you are something else entirely." The figure scanned him up and down. "Who are you?"
Unwillingly, he felt something flip a siwtch in his mind.. Blazing hot swords cut into his skin. His scales peeled off like fruit skin. Deep in his brain, a thousand icicles thrust into his nerve tissue. Acid ate into his eyes.
The switch flicked off. "Who are you?"
He squeezed his eyes shut. A prayer formed within his head, unbidden. "Khalai na Aiur. Vos arak sintar Adun."
The black-gloved hand was reaching for the switch, but paused. "A follower of Adun." The voice boomed out. "Who is Adun?"
His eyes popped open, unwittingly widening to spheres and exposing his fright. "Khalai na Aiur."
"Khalai. I have never heard of this name before. What is Aiur?"
His muscles were shaking, but he couldn't control them. Sweat dripped from his skin.
"You will tell me. What is Aiur?"
"The gods will strike with vengeance upon you, monster."
The figure leaned back. "Indeed." It almost seemed pleased. "The power of your gods would not seem to extend here, creature. Do you think they will come save you now?"
He said nothing, his eyes seared with pain and anger.
"These gods you speak of. Have they protected you yet? Or are they simply too weak?" The figure stepped away and paced back and forth slowly, its hands behind its back. "I would think gods so highly valued by one of your kind would aid their follower in his trouble."
With a surge he rose against his restraints. "Demon." The metal cuffs cut into his wrists. "You defy the purity of the gods, and seek to arrogate yourself above them. You serve no god but yourself."
"As it should be," the figure intoned. "There is no power but what one takes for themselves. There is no reward for awaiting your fate." A gloved fist clenched in the air. "The destiny I have is what I have chosen. The Force follows my path, and none other."
His eyes narrowed. "Then you are a fool. One fool in a sea of fate, thinking he has the power to alter his destiny. One being does not have the power to alter his own fate. It is by the will of all that one succeeds."
The figure laughed, that deep, unsettling laugh. "One fool among many, indeed. But," He stretched out his hand, and touched the Protoss on his forehead. "I am not one of them."
His back arched as cold fingers entered his mind, but he had been saving his strength in the moment of respite he had gained. His mental barrier snapped into place, pushing back the probing intelligence. The figure grew quiet, as if calculating. His glowing eyes narrowed, staring back into that demonic mask. By the wisdom of Khas. By the power of Adun. Time and space have no meaning, for we are bound by the Khala, and we will stand as one. The figure's claws paused, resting lightly on his barrier, then scratching gently up and down. With a surge of will, he sealed his thoughts further and further into the recesses of his mind. He would not fail, he would not yield to this impetous necromancer. His barrier would be without flaw, impenetrable.
But not all of it. The claw stopped, caught on something. It twisted, driving further into the gap it had found. He could not tell the figure's expression, but he felt it was smiling as the fissures spread around the weak point.
"Adun-"
With an audible crash his mind shattered.
The bridge of the Imperial star destroyer was abuzz with activity. Ensigns raced to and fro, typing rapidly in their datapads, conferring in little groups around their stations. Their commanding officers paced around the bridge, stopping every five seconds to be saluted by a young shipman and presented with a new readout of information. There was a hum to the air, tense but purposeful.
A thin-faced man with the rank bars of an Imperial captain stood at the center of the commotion, sternly surveying the scene. His eyes moved slowly from one crew pit to the other. By chance sometimes he would catch a shipman looking his way, who would always swiftly turn back to his console or datapad.
A man bearing no insignia marched up and saluted. "Captain Vesta."
"Report, Commissioner Lutil."
A datapad was extended to him. "Latest scan of the debris. The reconstruction is at sixty-eight percent."
His fingers tapped at the screen. The commissioner stood by, still at attention.
"What is the delay in the full reassembly?" he asked.
Lutil nodded sharply. "We're having trouble with reverse-engineering the explosion sir. The simulations aren't coinciding with the distribution of materials that we see." He gestured to the large viewports that lined the bridge, beyond which twisted durasteel plates could be seen tumbling past the ship. "Our best projection only accounted for eighty percent of the station's total mass."
Vesta tapped the pad again, bringing up a hologram of a tattered sphere.
"On a related note sir," Lutil spoke up, "cryptology reports they're still not making headway."
"The burst transmissions?" he asked, not looking up from the pad.
"Yessir. We're beginning to think they may have been simply random noise from the explosion."
"How about the hyperspace anomalies?"
"Three more at 1816. That's fifteen so far sir since we arrived."
The captain turned the hologram back and forth, examining the broken structure of the orb. "Why aren't you using the maximum projection?"
For the first time, the commisioner looked uncomfortable. He opened his mouth for a second before he spoke at last. "We ran those numbers sir. In order to get eighty percent mass, the ejecta would have to have impossible speeds. Nine-nine percent lightspeed, sir."
The captain looked up from the pad. "Ninety-nine percent? Those numbers are impossible."
"Yes sir. Our sixty-eight percent is already at the highest possible speeds from a reactor of the size of the DS-1. We're not certain how to account for the additional mass, but we're working on it, sir."
"Speed up your efforts then, Commissioner. I want a complete report to send to the Emperor without further delay." He raised his hand to dismiss him, then paused. "Was there something else?"
Lutil's face set in harder lines. "It would be of great help to our investigation if we were able to interrogate the scavenger we picked up, sir."
Vesta sighed. "I'm sorry, Commissioner. Lord Vader has given strict orders that he is not be disturbed."
"We only need access for a few hours. Surely Lord Vader could spare that time."
Vesta grimaced. Vader hadn't appeared for two days. What he could be doing with the alien prisoner in that time he couldn't fathom. "Lord Vader's orders stand. Continue with your investigation, Commissioner."
The other man radiated displeasure, but saluted anyway. Vesta panned the datapad once again for a moment before he realized the commissioner was still standing beside him. He looked up to see him standing stiffly with his back to him. A hush seemed to percolate through the room. Heavy footsteps were pacing along the walkway. The work did not stop, but the chatter slowed and heads bent more intently on their consoles. He turned, and swiftly straightened as well.
A black-clad figure moved past him without comment. It stepped up to the viewport and stood silently, gazing intently out into space.
"Lord Vader. I was not expecting you."
The figure remained silent.
"We have the latest progress for you, my lord," he said, moving to stand nearby. "We have run additional simulations and are nearing a full recovery of the events."
The robed giant gave no response. His steady breathing filled the silence of the bridge.
"Lord Vader?"
Another breath in.
"Do you feel it, Captain Vesta?"
The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Vader always brought an air of unease, but something about his current demeanor made his skin crawl. "I'm sorry lord?"
Vader stood silent.
Vesta opened his mouth once more to speak, when somewhere in the background, a warning ping began to sound.
"Captain!" shouted the sensor officer. "We're picking up an hyperspace reading from the quarantine zone!"
The officer's words were unnecessary. Outside in the debris field, space was twisting and glowing. "Shields up!" Vesta snapped. Once more, he was an Imperial commander. "Alert the rest of the fleet. All weapons stand by." A hurried sounds of feet coincided with switches being thrown and buttons being pressed. In an instant the Star Destroyer was brimming with power.
Deep in the bowels of the blazing fire of the Death Star's remains, a gleaming shape jumped into view. Curved like some sleek sea creature, it glowed golden in the light of Yavin's sun.
"Captain," the sensor officer reported, "ship reads as destroyer class. No visible weapons installments."
Vesta leaned over the battlespace scanner. "Order the Abyss to launch their fighters. Have our squadrons and those from the Annihilator and the Borealis stand by."
"Belay that order, Captain."
Vesta jumped. He had neglected Vader standing next to him. "My lord, we must establish a defensive screen."
Vader raised his hand in warning. "My orders stand, Captain. Retain the fighters in their bays."
Vesta glanced at the scanner. The new ship was powering steadily up out of the debris field. The dark lord was silent again. His head was slightly bowed, as if concentrating on something.
"Captain," a voice called out. "We're receiving a signal from the unidentified vessel."
Vesta glanced again at Vader, then turned away and straightened his uniform. He nodded to the communications officer. "Send it through."
The hologram projector illuminated the center of the bridge with blue static. A figure resolved out of the haze. A thin alien that seemed to be crouching on the holopad. A pair of piercing eyes turned and looked directly at Vesta. He braced himself to keep from stepping back.
"Khalai ki nala. Verash shii marash."
He straightened himself and returned the alien's gaze. "I am Captain Vesta of the Imperial Navy and acting commander of this task force. By entering this area you are in violation of an Imperial quarantine. Stand down or you will be fired upon."
The alien paused for a long minute. It turned its head, seeming to converse with someone offscreen. Vesta snapped at the communications officer and mouthed "Get a protocol droid up here."
Vesta jumped as a voice echoed out in the room. "Terran Captain Vesta of the Imperial Navy." The voice was strange, as if it came from inside his head. "I am Imperator Khoris of the Protoss. We have come here peacefully and do not wish for conflict."
"Khoris." Vesta's mouth worked its way around the alien's name. "This area is under Imperial jurisdiction. State your mission and destination."
"We come in search of a missing comrade. We have traveled through your portal to find him. Once we have recovered him, we will return to our world." The alien's head bobbed. "We require any information you have concerning him."
Vesta considered for a moment. "We will consider your request. In the meantime, you will maintain position and submit to a close scan of your vessel. You will also permit a boarding party."
The alien's head tilted. "We will submit to a scan but this ship is a vessel of the Templar. We will not permit Terrans to board."
Vesta's face set into stern lines. "I repeat, Khoris, you have invaded Imperial space. You will submit to a boarding party to inspect your vessel."
He felt a presence at his side suddenly. Vader stood towering over him. "Imperator Khoris," he intoned calmly. "I am Lord Vader, Supreme Commander of this fleet. We will withhold the boarding party for the time being. We will also determine any information we hold about your missing comrade. In the meantime, we would welcome you aboard our ship to converse."
Khoris' head bowed. "As requested, Lord Vader. We will send a shuttle."
The hologram shut off. "My lord," Vesta implored. "We cannot permit an unknown vessel to be present in this area, not to mention on board this ship. We must send a boarding party."
"Do you question my commands, Captain?" Vesta felt a tickle at his throat and involuntarily moved his hand to protect it.
He bowed his head. "No, Lord Vader." He gulped. "I will send a reconnaisance flight immediately."
"Good." Vader turned on his heel, brushing past a silent Commissioner Lutil as he exited the bridge. "Prepare the main hanger. We will soon be receiving our guests."
