"Okay Chewie, let's get him some food and a bed. I'll prepare some food for him." Han grumbled as they finished setting the shuttle down in the launch bay of the Eravana. After the doors have been shut and the hangar pressurized, they got off and out the ship, Chewie still lugging Thexan on his back.
"I can walk, given guidance." Thexan spoke out.
"I was under carbonite for three years and I was wobbling like a drunk. You've been frozen for three millennia." Han retorted as they walked through the stark hallways of their freighter. They made it to the guest cabin, Han opening it and allowing Chewie to come inside and set the young young on the cot. "I'll get some food, stay here."
Thexan said nothing, but the look on his face was annoyance before he relented and sighed. Being so helpless must have been gnawing at the kid. Han didn't blame him.
But to be safe, he made sure to lock his room from the outside. "We'll be back with some food shortly." Han patted his friend's shoulder. "Go check on our cargo. We fed them before we took off for the planet surface… We don't want them to making much of a fuss."
Chewie nodded and gave off some affirmative growls and walked down the corridor to go to the storage sector where the Rathtars were being held. Han in the meantime went to the kitchen and managed to scrounge up a stew made from Nemoidian spices and various meats. It wasn't Naboo Luxury Cruiser fare, but when one has been frozen in carbonate for years, even simple tasteless gruel from Jabba's Palace was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten.
Still is when he looked back on it.
Minutes passed and he made a nice large bowl for the youth along with a spoon and he returned to the cabin, unlocking it and entering.
Thexan was lying down, eyes looking up at the ceiling blankly. Han couldn't tell much given his blindness, but with some food and rest, it will fade.
"What's on the menu?" Thexan asked with a wry shrug as he sat up, grunting to sit up straight.
"Stew. Some meat and stuff and all that jazz." Han handed the bowl to the bald man who took it, sniffed it and took the spoon that the old smuggler handed to him and took a sip.
He then set the spoon to the side and began to drink the concoction straight from the bowl, slurping away like the hungry man he is.
Han let out a snort. So that was what made Chewie laugh when they were in that cell and they got served scraps.
Thexan paused after chewing some meat and swallowing. "Something funny?"
"Nothing, enjoying it?" He asked with a smirk.
"Best thing I've ever tasted." Thexan muttered before his hand reached out, prodding around for the spoon and going to scoop up the remnants.
"Well I got more, in case you want some." Han heard footsteps and turned, seeing Chewie walk into the room and give off a nod and a couple of grunts.
All accounted for. Good.
"What is on this ship then? And aren't hungry?" Thexan asked, scooping up whats left of the stew and swallowing as much as he possibly could. His Shryiwook is good.
"We're smuggling exotic creatures for a King." Han explained. "Rathtars to be exact." The youth paused, gazing at Han's direction with a raised eyebrow.
"You do know those are incredibly dangerous. You have multiples?"
"Yep. Smuggling them for an old king for a vanity contest." Han sighed, rubbing the back of his head.
"Rathtars, to show off?" Thexan mused and then scoffed. "That's asking for trouble."
"Don't I know it." Han shrugged. "Here, use this communicator" He placed a comm on the nightstand beside the cott. "Get some rest. When you get some shut eye, you should be okay to move. Then we can get you a bath to clean up."
Thexan remained silent before relaxing in his cott. "Thank you… I'll answer any questions you have when I am…" He yawned, a hand draped over his midsection as he winced. "Able to see your face."
"Don't mention it. Just rest up. Then we can talk as much as we want. Know that for safety reasons we're locking you in here. Use your comm if you need anything." Han said as he stood up, ready to leave.
Thexan nodded. "A wise decision."
"Glad you understand." The old smuggler smirked before closing the door, Chewie following out after him.
"Alright so… Get the ship ready for a jump to Hyperspace, I'm gonna need a shower." Han sighed as he stretched his neck. Chewie let out a growl and shook his head.
"You first? What di-" He cut himself off and sighed. "You did do the heavy lifting. Fine, you go do your grooming." Han placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'll go jump us to the next system. If my memory is right, the Jakku System is the halfway mark between us and the Mol'leaj System."
Chewie barked a little and nodded, sauntering down the hallway to use the restroom to clean up. Han shook his head, he was going to continue smelling swamp for a good hour until Chewie is done washing and drying.
(X)
When sight finally did come back to him, Thexan found himself exactly where he thought he would be. A cot, made for smugglers and thieves and built for such a spartan purpose. An insult to his station, his birthright, but those were little comfort in the face of what it provided. Survivable for what it was, and the blankets warm despite falling apart at the seams.
They kept out the cold, but nothing of the doubts.
For millennia he had slumbered, even repeating it now didn't make it sound any less impossible. Only a few hours ago, he was with his brother before his father. Only a day ago he was fighting for his life. Only a week ago he was among his men, preparing for the final push in a war that many thought impossible to win.
But it wasn't a week ago.
For every minute of memory, the Force had taken a hundred years from him. He couldn't see his face, but the confusion in Han's tone, the confidence in which he spoke to the fall of this other empire made another truth apparent to Thexan.
The Eternal Empire, did no one remember it?
So much time had passed, was the idea of an empire so laughably vague that no one knew which you were talking about?
Preposterous.
All bowed before the might of Zakuul. The Jedi and the Sith were nothing before it, and all other factions were but pawns playing in a game far too big for their understanding. The Republic bent the knee like the simpering bureaucrats they were. The Sith Empire refused to the end, resulting in the destruction of Korriban and their Dark Council.
They won. They brought order to a galaxy mired in discord and conflict. They finally brought peace!
So why…
He repeated those words over and over again, yet, the doubt remained. Which meant only one thing remained.
Answers.
Rolling out of the cot, his legs betrayed him as they hit the ground.
So Prince Thexan, son of the Eternal Emperor and general to the Knights of Zakuul, sprawled on the ground like a drunken fool. At least he was alone and spared the embarrassment of an audience. Pushing against the ground, Thexan felt his arms waver and his knees buckle from the effort but he managed to stand. Grasping at his night stand, he grabbed the communicator.
Looking it over, it was nice to see pragmatism among smugglers hadn't changed.
A quick click of the communicator brought the channel to life.
"Han," Thexan breathed.
"Finally up, kid?" came the garbled reply.
Thexan frowned at the title but didn't let it stop him from asking the important questions.
"Is it possible to review the Holonet? I have a lot to catch up."
"Oh, sure, I'll hand it over in the washroom."
Thexan felt himself frown, it was an unusual location for an information trade.
"Why the washroom?" he asked, a moments curiosity taking over.
"You're still suffering from the carbonation sickness, just cause you're up and walking doesn't mean it's all gone. It'll take the edge of getting things moving again if that helps."
The channel goes dark, leaving Thexan with no other option than to comply. Then again, disobeying wouldn't do him much good given his condition. Taking a step forward was straining, but manageable, given a little effort and some help from leaning against the wall. He took deep breaths, walking forward. Step by step.
Just one foot in front of the other, towards information, towards power, to victory.
The mantra repeated itself over and over in Thexan's head, steeling his resolve and pushing back the growing pain. He barely made it out of the room and down the hallway before the steady stream of sweat completely coated his face.
By the time that he made it into the washroom, Thexan thanked the Force that he didn't need his nose to breath. Throwing off his clothes, he stepped into the first shower, letting the water rush over him.
Oh by the force it was blissful.
A hundred banquets, a thousand victories, none of them compared to the simple pleasure of feeling the pain and tiredness wash down the drain. He slumped down, his back against the metal wall and and grinned.
Thexan didn't know how long he stood like that, but by the time that he stepped out and got dressed again the ache was nothing but a memory. The door slid open, and Han walked in Holo-screen in hand. The old smuggler waved away the steam, giving Thexan a look that he didn't recognize.
He cleared his throat, handing over the screen which Thexan accepted.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it. I'll be in the cockpit with Chewie if you need something"
He pressed the door open, and Thexan barely had enough time to nod before Han went back to the cockpit. Thexan meanwhile, found himself walking as fast as his legs could take him back to his room.
When he got back, the Prince was sitting on his cot so fast he barely remembered sitting down. All he could focus on was what was in his hands.
Something so basic that even a child would be able to get their hands on it. Now though, it was all he could ask for.
Oh how far he had fallen.
He shook the thought aside, there would be time for that later. Now it was time to learn. After all, there was a thousand years to learn, to remember.
As quickly as he could, he searched for the Eternal Empire. He watched as the Holonet blinked to the available documents. His eyes widened. There was, there was...
Nothing.
He could not believe it. He didn't want to believe it. He had scoured the holonet, searching for something, anything.
He stared at the screen, as if by doing so he could will it all to be not true, a mistake
Zakuul was nothing. Forgotten. A mere footnote in history, a bizarre twist that didn't seem to quite fit the flow of event.
He had gone through the history files, a thousand times it seemed. He had been surprised to see the ancient Rakata get so little mention. They had invented the hyperdrive, built an entire science around the Force, and built a galaxy-spanning empire of Force-rich worlds. His tutors had told him about them, and he had seen their ruins, their artifacts. Yet so many modern sources dismissed them as a myth, or a misunderstanding.
What followed was familiar enough. The early space empires in the Core, squabbling at first, then coming together to form the first of the Old Republics. Some said the Jedi were involved. Then there was the Hutts, and Xim the Despot, and a thousand years later the Tionese War. And then millennia of expansion and contraction.
And then the Hundred-year Darkness, when disagreements over the true nature of the Force, and its uses, had splintered the Jedi. Some, like the Ordu Aspectu, sought to use the Force to change existence itself, to prolong life or alter the inner natures of living beings. But the one everyone remembered was the Sith, a group of Jedi who sought to embrace the Force in it's entirety, rejecting the stale orthodoxy that allowed only the Light Side.
Some accounts blamed the Sith for starting the violence, others the Jedi, some even the Old Republic for a ham-fisted intervention. Either way there was chaos and destruction, until the Sith were finally defeated, and fled into the Stygian Caldera. There they built their own empire, and centuries later came back for revenge; for a time ruling the galaxy of the backs of slaves and dark magic, before the Jedi and their own malice defeated them.
After two thousand years, the story became more familiar. He read of how Exar Kun had rediscovered the extinct Sith traditions, raising armies and fleets in a brief but devastating bid for power. The Republic was fatally weakened, so much so that it could not handle even a resurgence of the Mandalorians. It had taken the so-called Revanchist, and his Jedi and Republic allies to finally stop the violence.
Revanchist. Revan the Revanchist. Darth Revan. All the rest he knew, only too well.
Then Zakuul, a mysterious empire that had erupted from the Unknown Regions to overrun a galaxy exhausted by war.
He had to force himself not to drive his fist into the screen. This wasn't history, this was life, his life! He remembered the campaigns, the battles, the victories. He remembered Korriban like it was yesterday, and technically it had been!
He remembered all of it, every decision, every swing of his lightsaber, every wound, every death. He remembered the lurch of the dropship as it entered the atmosphere, the flash and crack as dropships were shot down around him. He remembered the electric crackle of blasterfire, the hiss and hum of lightsabers. He remembered the black-armoured imperial troopers, dying by their thousands in unquestioning obedience. He remembered the Sith, red lightsabers aglow, Lords and Masters, warriors and inquisitors, even academy students pressed into desperate service.
All of it just a story. All of it just words on a page, mere minutiae, of interest to no one but antiquarians.
And all of it for nothing. All his suffering, all his sacrifice, for an Empire that vanished within a few years of his death. Ruined by his own siblings, as the words on the screen laid out. Arcann, his brother, remembered as a paranoid tyrant. Vaylin, his sister, recorded for all time as a bloodthirsty lunatic, a burner of worlds.
Everything their father had built, everything he had helped tho expand and strengthen, destroyed by them in a matter of years.
He slumped in his seat, his anger replaced by a strange, almost existential weariness. What had it all been for? Why had he been born? For what purpose had he lived, learned, killed and destroyed?
Why was he still alive?
He glanced at the screen, and found it in himself to chuckle. At least those Sith fools had not prospered; not half as much as they had hoped, anyway. Centuries of Cold War had followed Zakuul's fall, and the Sith had fought among themselves. Lord had fought Lord, Emperors had risen and fallen, armies and fleets had been squandered in one pointless squabble after another.
In the end, the only Sith left had been deluded fanatics and petty bigots. As their resources ran dry, and their hold over the Empire weakened, they had been forced to turn to the wider aristocracy in order to maintain their power. Many of them were Force-sensitives themselves, the descendants of minor Sith, yet Sith in name only. The Empire had feudalized itself, it's institutions had crumbled, until all that remained was a handful of insane sorcerers hidden away in the Stygian Caldera; and a mosaic of kingdoms and baronies for whom the Sith were an embarrassing memory.
It was poetic justice, after a fashion.
Thexan brought his hands to his face and took a deep breath, looking at the floor as he took this in.
Everything he has done. Everything his life had been building up to. The training. The pain. The blood, sweat and tears. The lessons. All of it was to bring order to the galaxy.
And now, nothing mattered. The sacrifices he had made, the soldiers he had sent into battle to die. All for nothing.
They had become… a damn footnote!
He let out an exhale, setting down the pad and putting on the spare clothes Han had laid out for him. Old dirty jeans and a red sleeveless shirt. Thexan fought back a snarl. This was not attire fit for a prince…
And yet, he was a Prince of nothing. His world, the people who adored him and whom he fought for in turn is gone. All of this because of him. Because of-
Thexan winced, hand on his stomach as he looked down at the massive scar that cut horizontally. It was healed, but the memory of it… he can feel it throb.
He flexed his arm, remembering how the blinding anger faded into instantaneous regret and despair in Arcann's eyes once Thexan stopped him. The trained and hardened man who he had fought and trained with, his own brother, reverting back to the insecure boy who had only wanted his father's acknowledgment.
Why didn't he see that he had his brother. They were foolish to cut off their mother Senya from their life. Vaylin was taken away and by the time Thexan reestablished a connection, even he can tell there was naught but small fragments of the little sister who loved him remained. He had fought for Zakuul. For Arcann. Not for his father. Thexan let out a sigh and finished getting dressed. He had to move around. He was going stir crazy in here.
He left his cabin, walking down the dingy halls of the freighter, past the hangar and bathing quarters and out to what he assumed was a recreational area, with a round table, some plates and cups strewn about, and a window showing the light-blue hue of hyperspace. One thing caught his eye was a small array of photographs by the sofa. He inspected them, seeing what appeared to be a much younger Han Solo, Chewie, and two other individuals. One a young man with sandy colored hair and a bright smile, full of hope. The other a brunette woman in military fatigues having a beaming smile, their environment that of a massive woodland. By the young man's side was some blue and white astromech droid and a golden protocol droid. They looked far different in this time period, to which Thexan expected as such. Thexan walked into the middle of the room and sat down, crossed legged as he crossed his eyes.
He took deep breaths, focusing as he drew his connection to the Force. He winced, finding… a thread. Was he out for so long, his connection had faded?
It made sense, and it worried Thexan immensely. He reached his hand, remembering the lessons the Sages had taught him.
Reach out… What does he see.
He found the thread, feeling a light flow of the Force surging through him. But… it was nothing like before. Thexan remained calm, as he remembered the code. The Code of a Zakuulian Knight.
There is no Chaos. There is-
He heard footsteps.
"Meditating?" Thexan opened his eyes, biting his inner cheek as he looked back, seeing Han by the door.
"Yes. Trying to clear my head a little. Stretch my legs a bit too."
"Well, you are a guest on this ship." Han shrugged, walking over and opening a small fridge, getting a flask out and taking a swig. "So kid," He looked over his way. "What do you have in mind now?"
Thexan was irked at being called a kid, he was a young man. Sure he was far older but he-
Forget it, no use crying over split milk.
"Wondering what I do now." Thexan pondered outloud as he stood up, crossing his arms as he gazed at the flickering blue lights. "I used to be a Prince of Zakuul, leader of armies… and now…" It felt like poison in his lips. "I'm a prince of nothing."
Han remained quiet, listening to him as he saw the youth's eyes dart to the floor. He sighed, scratching his head. "Well… I don't much of a crew much anymore." Thexan perked up, looking his way. "Lost some of them capturing the Rathtars, and what few jumped ship not wanting in on this business."
"You're offering me a job?" Thexan asked, eyebrow raised.
"Now look." Han said sternly. "It doesn't pay much. If things point up we can get two square meals a day. And we may, or will…" He grumbled. "Probably meet a lot of people who want my head put on a trophy. Wouldn't be nice to ya either." He added trying to look gruff. "I need… someone who can catch up me and Chewie. We could kill for an extra set of hands around here though. Hell, I'll even give ya cut for the Rathtar job."
"How much?" Thexan didn't really know how to react.
"I don't know. You're gonna help offload those monsters down to King Prana's palace, so it's gonna be minimal, and that's not counting how I'm gonna deduct from your pay to get you new clothes." Han seemed to pile one, almost as if he was trying to prevent Thexan from joining him and the rookie. "Or… if you're not interested, me and Chewie can drop you off at a friend's place. She will know what to do with you. Either way is fine."
The bald man looked to the ground, knowing his circumstance… he's almost akin to being lost in an ocean. He can either take the lifeline now, and live a life of adversity and smuggling. Or take a gamble on whatever Han's friend has in mind.
Still, Han did save his life.
Thexan sighed, looking back into Han's eyes as he walked forward, offering his hand. "You saved my life. I would still be in the dark down on Zakuul. Sleeping for who knows how long. I owe you Han Solo."
Han looked down at the hand then back up, Thexan tracing his eye movement. The scowl then became a light smirk. "Well… I'm assuming that's a yes." He took it, and both men gripped hard and shook on it. "Welcome to the crew."
Thexan couldn't help but offer a small smile back. "Thank you."
"Alright, my stash is limited, and I doubt it's no Coruscantian or Dantooinan wine but." Han went back to the fridge, getting out a glass of liquor and two shot glasses. "Celebratory drink, to welcome our newest crew member."
"Han, if I may ask." Thexan took the glass, filling it with a sample of bourbon as the two man clanked their glasses in a toast and sipped. Thexan held it down, as did Han.
"What's up? And good to see you hold your booze."
"Those photos. Who are they? I can see you and Chewie in there, but who are the other two?" Han's jovial expression changed instantly, and he frowned looking down at his glass before back at the raggedy photo.
"Those two huh?" He asked, offering a sad smile as he walked towards the picture, Thexan following behind him. And Han remained silent, focusing on the center two in the photo. The blonde haired man and the woman.
"Did they… pass away?" Thexan asked, Han jumped up.
"Oh no no, not at all. Well, least… one of them I don't know isn't dead. I know Leia's alive but… not sure on him."
"Leia." Thexan spoke aloud, attaching the name to the face. "She's beautiful." And Han beamed nostalgically.
"Most beautiful girl in the galaxy. And her brother Luke, he was something else entirely. In a good way mind you…" Han toned off, taking a big sigh. "Luke he… he disappeared a ways back. And Leia and I… we…"
"We what?" Those two must have been very close, and he can sense the sadness rolling off of Han in waves, and Thexan almost felt guilty for prying.
Then came roaring and barking, breaking Han from his reverie and making Thexan turn his head. The blue hue of Hyperspace faded, leaving away to the darkness of space once more.
"Chewie? What is it?" Han asked as Chewie ran into the living room, and gruffed and growled.
Something about a… Millennium Falcon?
"My god…" Han muttered, and Thexan has never seen an old man that isn't a force user sprint out of the hall. "Chewie prep the tractor beam!"
"What's going?!" Thexan yelled, running after.
"Wanna make yourself useful, open the hangar doors!"
"What are we reeling in!" Thexan asked, Han turning around, and Thexan can see the biggest smirk on his face.
"Home."
(X)
Finally, got the next one out. And we are finally in Force Awakens territory people!