From four billion kilometers away, Shenandor was just another star, old and red, belching heat and radiation as it slowly expanded and decayed, still millions of years from its eventual climactic supernova. Just another star, but swinging dangerously close to that little red dot was a planet and on that planet was Darth Vader, the Emperor's right hand, held captive in the Rebels' most secure prison.
It was Miltin Takel's job to retrieve him. The grand admiral wanted to spit, swear, or break something.
Boba Fett's ship hung over Magic Dragon's bow as they sat at the edge of the star system, beyond range of the Rebels' sensors. Facing the star destroyer head-on, the infamous Slave I looked like the face of a dangerous animal, the kind that deserved to be mounted on a wall. The bounty hunter was waiting for orders and Takel tried to decide which to give.
Fett had reported that the Rebel base was on the planet closest to the sun, so deep within a well of heat and radiation that transit was only possible via some kind of large, ungainly machine that shielded approaching spacecraft from the worst of Shenendor's fury. Per the report, that shielding ship was far too small to protect a start destroyer, not that Takel had any intention of taking Magic Dragon to the inferno. His orders from Imperial Center, and presumably the Emperor, were to deliver the package he'd retrieved on Kamino the Rebel base. If it were any other planet that would have been easy. Shenandor Prime was a great complication.
But of course, if he couldn't solve complex problems, he didn't deserve to be called a grand admiral.
When faced with seemingly insurmountable quandaries, Takel had an asset he always called upon. Yes, it was spice, but not the usual sansanna he bought from his Hutt friend. No, this was the finest glitterstim, straight from the mines of Kessel. Most spice heightened the senses, raised the heartbeat, and brought the body to a high peak of pleasure. Glitterstim did even more: it fired the mind. Some said it induced short-lived telepathic powers. Mystics claimed it even allowed users brief access to the Force.
Takel was a materialist. He made judgments off experience and knew only that a little glitterstim always revealed the solution to his problems.
So, watching Boba Fett's hanging beast-head through the windows of his personal cabin, the grand admiral popped his capsule of glitterstim and let revelation come in the form of furious mental calculus. He needed to deliver the package to the Rebel base and retrieve Vader. To do that he'd need a shieldship. Fett's report showed that the Rebels' escort was sitting close to the planet, using Shenandor Prime itself to shade from the worst of the stellar heat. That shieldship was out of his reach. Thus, he'd need to procure one for himself as soon as possible. The problem was, these ships were incredibly rare. Hardly anyone ever needed to work on planets so close to a sun, and there was no standard manufacturer for such an escort.
But the galaxy was huge, and there had to be ones floating around. Turning from the viewport he stalked over to a holo-transmitter and brought up a projection of this region of the galaxy. Bright dots, each marker with a name, swarmed around him. Using glitterstim-heightened senses he took them all in and unlocked the encyclopedic information he kept in his head. One after another he considered systems and dismissed them. No planets close enough to their sun, no planets that were useful. Considered, dismissed, considered, dismissed, all in miliseconds.
And then his racing mind nimbly alighted on a single name: Xencom. Not a planet but a pulsing neutron star and the radiation-drenched nebulae that surrounded it. Located just a sector away, Xencom was a lawless place where pirates used specialized ships, proofed against the heat and radiation, to access secure treasure-troves in drifting planetoids. Not the kind of place most Imperial officers would have heard of, but Miltin Takel made a point of fraternizing with the galaxy's less-refined denizens. Not only were they more enjoyable company than snooty Core aristocrats, they were actually useful now and then.
All of this came to Takel in a few seconds. He knew exactly what needed to be done.
He hurried to his communications console and tapped in the encrypted frequency of one of those less-refined denizens. As he waited for reply by tugged his uniform straight and reminded himself to speak calmly and slowly to counter the visible effects of his spice-high.
The holographic visage that appeared was not just less-refined; it was downright hideous, even by Chevin standards. Blinking little eyes above a massive, wrinkly gray trunk, Mammut Toph snarled, "Is that you, Takel? You barve, what are you calling me for? I told you I never wanted to see your ugly pink mug again."
It was actually refreshing to be talked to this way. Clasping hands behind his back to hide their shaking, speaking with deliberate slowness, Takel said, "You have something I need, Mammut. But don't worry, I intend to pay you for it."
The Chevin snorted. Very, very loudly. "If you want some-thing of mine, you'll have to find me first. And don't think I'm not scrambling this call. You'll never get a source on it."
"Oh please, we can reach an agreement, gentleman to, well, murderous thug."
Another snort. "You're no gentleman, even with those braids on your shoulder. I wonder if your Emperor knows what you did to me at Sleheyron. In fact-"
"The Emperor knows all, sees all, and doesn't care so long as I get results. And I need your help to get those results, which is why I'm willing to pay you well."
"Pay with what? Did they bump your salary that much?"
"Spice, of course. Sansanna I have in plenty, but I can also get you lumni-space, kassoti, even glitterstim. All in exchange for just one little favor."
"So the Emperor pays your salary in spice, does he? I guess he knows how to keep you loyal."
Takel was getting tired of banter. "I have an arrangement with Jabba. He supplies me at a very affordable price."
"Why, because you use it in bulk?"
"No, my long-nosed friend. Because Jabba likes me."
"Well, who doesn't?" Mammut Toph said sarcastically. "Hmmph. I can always use spice. What do I have to give you?"
"Nothing. That's the beauty of it. All I need is for you to loan me that shuttle you use to sneak in and out of your hideaway at Xencom. You know, the one shielded and insulated against extreme heat and radiation. You'll probably even get it back."
The Chevin blinked his tiny eyes in disbelief. "That's all you want?"
"As I said, I have a task to perform for the Emperor and it's very important."
"For what you're offering, it must be."
"I need that ship, Mammut. I need it sent to the Shenandor system as soon as possible."
They sealed the deal with a final bit of haggling over spice to be paid. When it was done, Takel closed the line with a shaking hand, only to open a new channel a minute later. Where the ugly old Chevin had once appeared was now the faceless Mandalorian mask of a bounty hunter.
"Thank you for your help, Master Fett," Takel said. "The Emperor is most grateful for your services."
"Is it still required?"
Straight to the point, this one. "I believe you've given us everything we need from you. The Emperor will see to your payment. I'm sure he's good for it."
"Very well. I'll be going."
Takel felt compelled to add, "Believe it or not, it was a pleasure working with you. I only regret I couldn't meet a man of your reputation in person."
Fett froze for a moment, probably wondering if Takel was pulling his armored leg. Then, without another word, he closed the connection. Slave I fired its engines and vectored across Magic Dragon's bow as it aligned for a jump to hyperspace.
Takel sighed. Strange how some beings were so chatty, and others not. He looked at his hands, which were still trembling for the glitterstim racing through his blood. That was all right. Takel would wait for the worst of it to calm down before presenting himself to the bridge. He had time; Xencom was hours away.
And when Mammut Toph's shuttle arrived, things would truly get interesting.
-{}-
It felt strange to have nothing to do.
Starkiller actually strained to remember when he'd last felt so… empty. Before arriving at the Furnace he'd had Vader's presence looming over him, lightsabers to reconstruct, and Force-visions to deal with. Before that it had been the battle at Kamino, before that the raid on Salvation, before that he'd traipsed around the galaxy with Rahm Kota after rescuing the Jedi at Cato Neimoidia. Before that he'd fought his way out of Vader's prison-pit on Kamino and before that…
Before that everything got even more complicated. Starkiller still yearned for final answers on what he was: clone, immortal, or something else. Foolishly, he still hoped Vader might reveal the truth to him, but for now Vader was locked within a stone-walled vault deep within the Furnace. He longed to go into that chamber, stare Vader in his black metal eyes and demand answers, but he knew it would be futile. More, it would raise alarm from the Rebels staffing the Furnace, who were understandably on extreme edge because of their new guest.
So instead, Starkiller had to kill time. He'd ideally kill it with Juno but she was busy with Commander Yast, talking about leader things most likely, which left him to accompany PROXY and a pile of broken droid parts to Krevkee's machine shop.
As he examined the smooth black slices that had cut apart the other PROXY droids, the Aleena marveled, "These are amazingly precise marks. Clean, straight burns. It's almost like whoever did this used a heated vibroblade, or..."
His big eyes turned to the lightsaber at Starkiller's belt, but he didn't ask.
PROXY said, "The how is no longer our concern. I was wondering if we might be able to salvage their parts to replace my own malfunctioning elements."
"Like I said, these cuts are clean. We could probably reassemble most of these droids without too much difficulty."
"I would rather we concern ourselves with the living, to the extent I am such."
Krevkee laughed softly. "Very well. You said you lost your core programming after you were reconstructed. What was that, originally?"
PROXY glanced at Starkiller and wisely took the unspoken hint to be vague. "I was employed by Darth Vader in a variety of services. My unique abilities allow me to mimic appearances by holographic projection. Were my HoloNet transceiver not blocked by radiation, I could also become a stand-in for a communicant on the far side of the glaxy."
"Yes, you have very nice projectors." Krevkee eyed PROXY up and down. "Can I ask for a demonstration?"
"Of course." In a wink of light, PROXY became Starkiller, and spoke with Starkiller's voice. "Is this satisfactory? Or do you need to see more?"
"That's amazing," the Aleena whistled. "That's the most clear holo-proj I've ever seen. The color's so vivid, the projection's strong, none of the usual static or interruptions. Those are always easier if you're not 'casting a transmission, but still..." He considered. "Could you replicate me?"
"I'm sorry, but no. I need a physical profile uploaded to my memory banks before I can successfully mimic it."
"I see." Krevkee glanced at Starkiller, clearly wondering who he was and why his image was loaded into Darth Vader's droid. "Who else can you mimic?"
Another flash, and PROXY became Vader. His deep and ominous voice was comically miss-matched by his actual words. "This seems to be left over from my old programming, I'm sorry to say."
"All right. Who else can you be?"
A flash, and Vader became Leia Organa. Now with a soft female voice, PROXY said, "I can also mimic Captain Eclipse, General Rahm Kota, Mon Mothma, and Bail Organa. In fact, I often do, even without consciously willing it."
"Do you now? You mean you just… become these people?"
"I do. It's quite disconcerting for me, though probably moreso for my organic companions."
"Huh," Krevkee said, in a tone that meant he was clearly stumped.
"Don't you have some kind of diagnostics you can do on his core processor?" asked Starkiller. "Might it be that there's just physical damage to his brain? PROXY's been through a lot."
"This is true." PROXY dropped the holo-shroud and became just a droid again. "I am of course willing to place myself in your capable hands."
Krevkee considered. "If you shut down I can give you a thorough examination. Since I've never seen your model before I can't promise I'll even know what's wrong…"
"You're the best droid specialist around, aren't you?" asked Starkiller.
The mechanic chuckled. "I'm a big fish in a small, dry, hot pond. Yes, I can do it, if you want me to."
"Please," said PROXY. "Though before I shut down, I should recall what Master Eclipse said when I brought up my problem to her. You see, I am programmed with many different holo-profiles, yet I seem, unwilling as it may be, to appear as only the ones which I mentioned. Master Eclipse asked me to ponder why I would keep returning to that relative handful."
"Did you find an answer?"
"I've considered that I may be imitating beings who all stand for higher principles beyond self-preservation."
Krevkee looked disappointed. "Is that supposed to include Vader?"
"It might," Starkiller said softly.
"And what higher cause is that karking monster supposed to serve?"
Starkiller had no real answer, so he didn't give one. Instead he left Krevkee to his work and went out into the halls of the Furnace. Thanks to the planet's low gravity, every step was light and easy.
The droid workshop was located deep within the facility and Starkiller retraced his steps back toward the hangar. The Furnace was structured in a rough Y-shape, with the workshop at the end of one branch, Vader's vault on the other. The branches combined into the mainline trunk back to the hangar at the facility's centerpiece, and certainly its most impressive sight.
Long ago, when this place had been used for mining hfedrium, they'd installed a massive laser drill and bored deep into the planet's crust. When they'd ceased operations they'd taken the drill with them but left the massive shaft. Its diameter was about fifty meters, its depth beyond counting. The three branches of the facility combined in a Y-bridge that spanned an immense drop. Overhead, sealing the shaft off from the vacuum and replacing where the laser drill had once been, was the massive metal dome Starkiller and Juno had seen when they came in for landing.
It was tempting to linger on the Y-bridge and stare into the abyss below. Scattered platforms jutted from the circum-ference in lowering tiers until they disappeared in darkness. Some were laden with discarded equipment and the rusting hulks of old mining droids. Krevkee had mentioned that he'd tried to cannibalize those, but they were so old and broken-down that barely any of their parts were useful.
He was pleasantly surprised when he ran into Juno on his way back to the Rogue Shadow. The main hallway was temporarily empty of people and he immediately pulled her close for a kiss. She returned it then stepped away, bashful, blushing lightly.
It was a side of her he'd never seen- never had a chance to see- and he allowed himself to wonder what other parts of her he'd discover, and she'd discover in him, once they got away from here, away from Vader for good.
Still lightly twining his fingers with hers, she said, "I was just reviewing the situation with Commander Yast. He's not happy about it, not that I can blame him."
"Any response from Kota?"
"I was going back to the Shadow to check."
"What a coincidence, so was I."
"Then I guess we can go together."
Still holding hands they started down the corridor. They walked slowly, and though they were alone Juno lowered her voice to say, "I think that, once the Alliance sends whoever it will send for Vader, our job here will be done."
Starkiller suspected where this was heading, but he pretended not to. "We don't know that yet. PROXY just submitted himself for a full evaluation, and there's no telling how long that will take, or what kind of repairs he'd going to need when it's done."
"I know," she said seriously, "but that doesn't need to be done here. In fact, it probably shouldn't be. The Alliance has far better droid repair facilities elsewhere."
"I'm sure they do. But still-"
She stopped and placed her other hand to his mouth. "Please. Galen… Starkiller… whoever you are, this isn't where you belong."
"I never said it was."
"When Kota and whoever else get here for Vader, I want to go. Take the Shadow and fly to Dantooine ourselves. Let them handle Vader. I never want to see that monster again." Juno was always collected, and she kept her voice steady, but her eyes pleaded. "Please… We need to go, together, and put all this behind us."
As he saw faint tears in her eyes he thought of her, and the monster between them. "Without me, you will never be free," he'd told Darth Vader on Corellia. Yet in a perverse way the inverse was also true. Until he had some final closure with Vader, until he'd learned the truth about himself, he would never be free either.
Even if Vader died with his secrets, Starkiller would be forever trapped beneath his maker's shadow.
He didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to argue. He moved her hand from his mouth, leaning forward, and kissed her on the forehead, chin brushing over glinting eyes. But even as he touched her, his mind echoed the last words Vader had spoken to him, to anyone: "As long as she lives, I will always control you."
Yes, he was still deep in that shadow.
"Wait until Kota gets here," he whispered. "We'll go wherever Alliance command thinks we should."
It was a dodge and they both knew it. Still, Juno blinked her eyes dry and tried a smile. "So does that mean you're a committed Rebel now?"
"What else would I be? I started the whole thing, didn't I?"
It wasn't a rhetorical question, and they both knew that too. Juno squeezed his hand. "I thought we did that one together."
He smirked. "I guess my driver helped a little."
"Well, I'm glad I get some credit. All the more reason for us to stick together."
"I never had any other plan."
He'd finally chased the sadness from her eyes when a voice called her name from down the hall. They stepped apart, detaching hands, and saw Commander Yast trotting toward them.
Their intimacy evaporated in a second. This was trouble.
When he reached them the commander said, "Captain Eclipse… we have a surveillance satellite swinging in mid-orbit around the system. We keep it dark most of the time to avoid detection, but wake it periodically to scan the surrounding space, just in case..."
"What did it find?" Starkiller asked.
Yast turned a paler shade of green. "One Imperial-class star destroyer, sitting at the edge of the system. We're not sure when it dropped in… Perhaps an hour ago, or two. We only run these checks so often."
Starkiller felt his whole world fall out beneath him. He thought he'd avoided that vision of destruction; now it seemed he'd merely transplanted it from the grassy fields of Dantooine to the hot caverns of the Furnace. He was going to lose everything here. He was going to lose Juno.
She, though, had dropped into furious concentration. Hands on hips, brow furrowed, she said, "They haven't come at us yet. Is it possible this is just a coincidence, and they don't even know we're here?"
Commander Yast shook his head. "There's no reason for an Impstar to swing by Shenandor. There's only one Imperial base in this entire sector."
"Even if they do know we're here, they can't get to us," Juno said. "As long as that shieldship stays close to the planet we're effectively protected by the heat and radiation."
"Unless the Imperials have a way around that."
"If they did they'd have launched an attack by now." She shook her head. "No, I think they're waiting and trying to figure out what they can do to us. That gives us an advantage."
"It's not an advantage. We're pinned down," Starkiller said. "Even if we take the Shadow and try to evacuate Vader, we'll have to use the shieldship as escort. That will take time to move to a safe zone and jump to hyperspace. The Imperials will see that and they'll micro-jump deep into the system and block us."
"He's right," Yast said. "I hate to say this, but it looks like a stalemate."
"We have only two advantages." Starkiller counted them off on his fingers. "One, they'll want Vader, so they can't just blow us up. Two, they don't know that we know about them."
He didn't say what those advantages got them. He couldn't think of a single thing.
Neither could Yast. The Nautolan looked imploringly to Juno. "Captain Eclipse, you have rank in this. What do we do?"
Juno didn't hesitate. "We call General Kota. And we tell him to prepare for a fight."