Galaxies Apart
Nineteen
Time travel. Even in the days of peace, during the scientific glory of Old Republic, time travel had never been explored. The Jedi Council had never allowed it, had quietly put a stop to any thoughts of experimentation in the area.
They said that the Jedi Code was a religion – if that was true, then time travel was tantamount to blasphemy. Faith in the Force as a guiding light for all sentient beings was the central tenet to the Jedi Code, something that would be totally destroyed by the notion that one person could, given the right scientific equipment, rewrite the destinies that the Force had assigned.
It was, he knew, ultimately down to the Empire. Palpatine's dictatorship had proven something of a shot in the arm – or when required, head – for science. Researchers suddenly found themselves with a remit to push the boundaries of technology that had remained static for centuries under the Old Republic's stability.
As paranoid as he was powerful, Palpatine salivated over the thought of technological superiority over his would-be rivals – as the construction of the Death Star had proven beyond doubt.
Frontiers of galactic knowledge had expanded at a rate unheard of in generations. Had the Rebellion completed the cycle by successfully overthrowing the Imperials, the entire galaxy would have reaped the rewards of highly accelerated - and highly immoral - studies.
That hadn't happened.
Yoda himself had been indulging in a form of time travel for hundreds of years – he, like all of the more powerful Force adepts, could enter a trance and receive visions of the future. However, visions were all they were – snapshots, difficult to see. Always in motion is the future, he had told Luke during one of their training sessions.
Now it seemed the past could be motion also.
How had it been done? Yoda had a suspicion about that, a suspicion he was dragging Luke Skywalker across the galaxy to confirm.
When, he wondered, when was the exact moment when the real timeline, that endorsed by the Force and stable, had been replaced with this improvised reality? A reality where the Force was reduced to the role of bystander as individuals crafted their existence from the wreckage of their destinies?
What was he, as the most senior Jedi Master alive, going to do about it? Attempt to undo the damage, try to restore the galaxy? On the surface it seemed the only option and Yoda could not avoid the inescapable fact that, artificial or not, this reality had been in existence for five years.
In that time, countless life-forms from innumerable species across the cosmos would have been born. By restoring the former timeline, he would surely be killing off many millions of these new lives.
Who was to say if that was not mass murder?
"Master?"
Yoda opened his eyes, and let their focus settle on his newest apprentice.
"You asked to be notified when we reached the co-ordinates. We just did," Luke informed him. The boy was always bursting for information and reluctant for truth.
"Good," he said, walking forward from his quarters on the Privateer to the bridge of the small ship. Luke tagged along behind.
"More co-ordinates?" he asked, sulkily.
"Yes," Yoda confirmed.
"It'd be much faster if I did it. I'm quite the navigator, you know, and this part of space is pretty-"
"Nevertheless," Yoda cut him off, and left it at that.
A word here and there was all that was needed. If the Jade woman was to be coming along, and he knew she must, he was not going to make tracking them easy for Palpatine. Multiple disguised encoded approach vectors was the best way to delay that process.
Skywalker itched with impatience beside him as Yoda punched in the new numbers to the navicomputer. Yoda kept his placid exterior as unflappable as ever with an ease he didn't feel.
More than anyone, Luke had been thrown off course by the changed timeline; he could sense as much, could have done so from two sectors away. The boy was conflicted, ridden with guilt and anger to so deep a level that Yoda privately had doubts about whether he could ever turn away from them. Yoda was inescapably reminded with every twitch, every glance that Luke sent his way of his father at the same age.
The galaxy could ill afford another Darth Vader. But unless Luke turned from that path, that was exactly what it was destined to get.
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"It's a little hard to know how to tell this chronologically…"
"Forget chronologically. Just start at the beginning and finish at the end." Han replied.
The Jedi smiled a little. "Here goes…"
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Two Death Stars had been destroyed by the Rebel Alliance. The Emperor had been assassinated – by his own lieutenant, Darth Vader, even as the second Death Star succumbed to the desperate Alliance attack at Endor. In the galaxy that emerged from those years of war, the Empire found itself driven back. The Rebel Alliance reborn as the New Republic.
The shattered remnants of the Jedi Order began the slow process of rebirth also. After the chaos and the catastrophe of the Empire, Force adepts were understandably somewhat reluctant to announce their skills, many preferring to hide their talents for fear of suffering the same fate as many of their parents and siblings had. The legacy of Order 66 lingered long in the memory.
Somehow these secret Jedi had to be reached, and assured that in the New Republic their gifts would be welcomed.
No amount of New Republic propaganda, diplomatic efforts or specially established organisations dedicated to spreading the new Jedi-friendly attitude to the entire galaxy could have had an impact to bring the new generation of Jedi to the light like the legend of one man.
The man who almost single-handedly had brought the Empire to its knees. It was common knowledge (incorrect, but common) that he had taken on the Emperor and Darth Vader simultaneously and killed both.
The man, the legend, was Luke Skywalker.
The story of Luke's triumph, and of his close friendship with similar figures of adulation - Han Solo, Princess Leia, Chewbacca - spread across the galaxy, fast becoming a staple tale in taverns and homes everywhere.
A modern, substantiated legend, it was what persuaded many hidden Jedi that finally the time had arrived for them to retake their place as the guardians of peace and justice.
Seven years after the victory at Endor, Luke Skywalker decided that the time was right to create a Jedi Academy where would-be Knights could learn the ways of the Force in peace and seclusion on the peaceful world of Yavin IV.
Over the years the Academy's enrolment expanded from only a handful of hopefuls to a plethora of potential Jedi, attended by members of over many different species, its facilities improving with each passing year.
As the years passed, past pupils began to return, teaching on aspects of the Force that they themselves had previously excelled in. The New Republic began to reap the dividends of its investment as the talented graduates proved to be invaluable assets.
Unfortunately the Academy proved attractive not only to the righteous and the noble, but those whose motives for better grasp of the Force were less for the betterment of the galaxy and more for furthering of their own ambitions.
In some cases these selfish traits were recognised and eradicated by the teachings and the training received at the Academy, and the individuals emerged changed in their ways, able to serve the New Republic as Jedi Knights.
This was not always the case.
One man managed to pass through the Academy, through the intense study and interpersonal relationship that entailed, without his true motivations being discovered.
He was a handsome, devious man who soon learned to adapt his Force talents to his own advantage. He was able to create an air of trustworthiness and integrity around himself of such pervading persuasiveness that strangers took an instant like to him.
He found himself consistently placed in positions of power, which he abused with subtlety and skill that no suspicion was ever attached to him. His talents were so extensive that he was soon mooted as a successor to Luke Skywalker. His dabblings in politics were of such note that some whispers had him as a potential Presidential candidate.
Not everyone was held in his thrall. A few of his peers at the Academy held their own suspicions close to their chests. They had lived and trained beside the man for four years and had gained an insight into his spirit.
Though keen to communicate their unease at their famous classmate, any expression of doubt were misconstrued as jealousy at the adoration showered on him from all sides.
For that reason, the four friends kept their misgivings private and determined that they would all enter the New Republic as Jedi Knights, partly because they wished to protect the system, and partly because this was also the career path that he had chosen. All four did not particularly relish the thought of allowing him to go unchecked.
One of the four, who accepted a post in the highest levels of the diplomatic corps, uncovered lost Jedi records long thought to be destroyed in Palpatine's purges. The records spoke of a mysterious location in space simply referred to as Site Zero.
When it was examined and authenticated by the newest experts on Jedi legend back at Yavin IV Luke Skywalker decided to lead a mission to find this place. To the dismay of the four friends, he made the obvious choice for his second-in-command aboard the specially-commissioned Star Cruiser Hope's Flame. The four friends, desperate to prevent this potential disaster, wrangled berths aboard the ship at the eleventh hour.
Twenty days into the mission two of the four were dead.
The Hope's Flame had stopped to resupply in the Corellian system. The two had been travelling back to orbit from Corellia's surface when six proton torpedoes blew their shuttle to smithereens in the skies above Corellia's capital city.
No-one ever discovered who had launched the torpedoes. Disgruntled local smugglers were blamed. The firing site was found the next day, in the middle of a huge forest outside the city, abandoned.
Luke Skywalker mourned the loss of two of his brightest and most promising students. He considered whether to turn back in order to bury them, but eventually was persuaded not to. The two bodies were frozen in carbonite instead, awaiting their return to Coruscant, and the Hope's Flame resumed its journey.
The remaining Jedi agonised over their next move. They were completely unable to find any evidence of conspiracy in the deaths of their friends, but each was privately sure that their friends had been murdered.
When the Hope's Flame arrived at the co-ordinates given in the Jedi text they discovered something truly extraordinary.
There, surrounded and shielded by nebulae through which sensor signals could not penetrate, was a huge and ancient space station. A truly mammoth construction almost the size of a Death Star, composed of a central sphere attached to two gigantic sails, looking for all the world like a gigantic TIE fighter.
The Star Cruiser docked. The station's computers seemed in perfect condition. As the boarding party moved along the huge corridors to where the life force emanated the lights followed and droids whirred quietly in side passages, going about their business as if on a crowded ship.
Master Skywalker seemed overcome with excitement at the grandeur and splendour of this discovery. His most trusted advistor seemed likewise taken by the significance of this find. The two remaining friends were caught up in the excitement. The computer experts the Hope's Flame had brought along began to spread through the installation in an attempt to learn more about its purpose.
They had assumed that the station had been built sometime during the tenure of the Old Republic. Not so. Carbon-dating analysis had shown that it had been constructed at least one million years ago.
Ten days after they had arrived, Luke had gone into a meditative trance. He had emerged and vanished alone into the bowels of Site Zero, only to return a day later with an instructional holocron, a portable holographic image device.
When activated, an image of a human appeared. The human introduced himself as Revan. What he had to say was nothing short of astonishing.
Site Zero was designed not to house inhabitants or to serve as a weapon, but as a generator. The immense rectangular 'wings' it sported had been built to create, channel and control one thing.
The Force.
The enormous 'wings' of the station were filled with midichlorians. Never before had the microscopic beings been able to be sustained outside of living tissue; their symbiosis with all forms of life in the galaxy and their connection to the Force was unquestioned.
And yet here, untold trillions of midichlorians were being kept alive without any biological assistance. It explained why the station felt so heavy with the Force; they had all felt it on arrival.
The Force-energy created and stored by the wings was redirected and supplied across the galaxy elsewhere in the station.
Finally they had an answer to the question of how was the Force was present where life was not. Site Zero acted as a regulator, spreading the Force evenly throughout the cosmos, ensuring it was a constant and stable power.
That wasn't all.
With proper manipulation, Revan revealed, the station could be used to focus a large amount of Force in a small space, creating a source of power which made a Death Star's superlaser pale into insignificance.
This vortex, however, was not a destructive blast. It could be moulded and shaped into a gateway. Just as Site Zero's primary function was to create Force and distribute it to the entire galaxy, this portal used the power of the midichlorians to take ordinary matter and connect it through the fabric of space itself to any other point in the heavens.
And its capabilities did not end there.
Space and time were bound together at the most infinitesimal of levels. By exploiting this bond, the station could potentially open a doorway not only to any point in space…but to any location in time. Past or future.
Revan pleaded with those who had activated the holocron to do what he had done upon discovering it. To resist the temptation to use its powers, and leave it be. Leave it to do what it was designed to do, and never reveal its location or its secrets to anyone else.
Skywalker had understood now why that first Jedi expedition had left well alone; the potential for good was staggering, but if Site Zero were to fall into the wrong hands...its potential for evil was limitless.
While the implications sank in, Luke ordered everyone off the station and back to the Star Cruiser, to give him time to deliberate.
That night, all hell had broken loose. Bodies were found on the Star Cruiser. A shuttle was launched, unauthorised. A shuttle carrying a single passenger to the station.
Luke had almost collapsed at the shock of the betrayal. When he was fully calm again he resolved to deal with this himself, apologising to them but ignoring their pleas that he reconsider his decision to go alone.
"This is my mistake, my folly," he had said firmly, "and it is my responsibility to set it right. May the Force be with both of you."
With that he'd gone, taking a second shuttle.
The crew of the Hope's Flame waited, and agonised. Luke had ordered that he be given five hours. It was approaching four and a half when the readings were detected.
Someone was firing up the array. To direct a beam of pure Force, open a rift in time and space. To do what none had ever dared try.
Skywalker contacted the ship. "I see him. I'm going to try to talk to him. If that doesn't work I'll have to…" and he'd sighed, "…do whatever is necessary."
Nothing had stopped. The minutes ticked past. The two Jedi, feeling somehow responsible, suffered with each passing second. It seemed to be taking far too long.
All the time, moreover, the power build-up in the station slowly grew. The Jedi aboard could feel the increase in the levels of ambient Force.
And then, with no sort of warning and no semblance of ceremony, they'd felt it.
A death.
His death.
The sheer impact of it sent all those sensitive to the Force reeling. Abruptly, suddenly, incredibly, the brightest star in the universe had been darkened.
Luke Skywalker, living legend, the boy who had destroyed the Death Star, the man who had taken on Thrawn and Daala and Exar Kun…
…was dead.
Helpless, stunned, they watched as the Force charge sparked, flared and caught. A lance of crackling white fire sprang forth from the mid-point of the twin wings, a cosmic lightsaber blade of unadulterated power.
As it seethed and hissed the space around it writhed, in ecstasy or agony. Below, the station itself changed before their gaze. Panels moved, antennae extended, sections seemed to grow from nowhere.
Finally the sabre of Force calmed, and the path to the station was open and safe once again.
The huge corridors, which had seemed desolate before, now hummed with energy. The station was being powered by the Force it had channelled.
In the main control rooms, too, the configuration had changed. A deep pit had opened, a conduit of sorts which descended into the depths of the station. The Force was almost overwhelmingly strong here.
The Jedi crackled with power as they walked; little flashes of light fizzed from their skin wherever they touched the surface.
Skywalker's body was nowhere to be found. Of his killer, they could sense nothing, which in itself was remarkable - with the power of the Force each now possessed, they were able to sense Corellia, many light-years distant.
All communication with the Hope's Flame was lost seconds afterward.
A great disturbance rippled the Force around them. It reverberated painfully inside their minds, causing them to fall to their knees in agony as they shrieked in sympathy with the station's groans of protest.
Though neither had much experience with what little was known of the mysterious systems aboard the station, they were able to recognise signs of a deliberate feedback overload.
Both knew then that they had only moments remaining.
Only their saturation in the Force kept the two Jedi alive as the life-support failed and temperatures soared. When they found the portal ten minutes had passed and the control room around them was literally melting around them.
It hovered before them, a doorway with height and width, but no depth; a gateway to another place and time.
The weaker of the two Jedi wavered. The other tried to help, but too late…he leapt into the energy field even as Site Zero blew apart.
She died in the explosion.
And when I…
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…the young Jedi took a moment to collect himself.
"When I came to," he continued, "I was lying in an alley on Coruscant. That was about two years ago. Another few minutes and I'd have been set upon by the scavengers, but I managed to get offworld."
He paused for a moment. Han kept his expression neutral.
"It's true. All of it," he shrugged helplessly, "not a word of a lie. The station sent me back in time, but too late…I came back after he had, too late to change what he'd done."
At Han's continuing silence, the Jedi's patience frayed. "Don't you see? Where I came from…when I came from…the Rebellion won the battle of Yavin IV. Luke Skywalker blew up the Death Star, and the Alliance never looked back. But he changed all that. He went back and changed history."
He stared into space, haunted. "It was always me who defended him, who wanted to give him a second chance. Who called him Un-"
That seemed to be the breaking point. He swept the holochess board from where it sat, letting out a long howl of rage as he stood, face red and body shaking. Around him, the Falcon's bulkheads creaked ominously as his tantrum extended into the realms of the Force.
Eventually he sank back into his chair, sobbing. He looked so young.
Han approached the crouching, sobbing figure. "What's your name, kid?" he said, not unkindly.
The Jedi hesitated.
"Durron," he said eventually. "Kyp Durron."
"Good to meet you, Kyp."
"You don't believe me," Kyp said, sighing. He fished something from his robe. "This and my lightsaber are the only thing that survived the translocation."
Han took the object. "A holo?" he said, doubtfully.
"Activate it."
Han flicked the switch.
"Oh," he said, and stumbled backwards.
The cube fell from his grasp and lay sideways on the floor of the Millennium Falcon's lounge, its holo-image still shimmering defiantly.
Kyp walked over and picked it up. He placed it in his pocket, patted it. "I knew it would come in handy someday," he said.
The image had shown Han, Leia, Luke, this Kyp Durron and a girl standing outside what, undeniably, was one of the ancient temples on Yavin IV. They'd all been wearing broad, carefree smiles and what looked like civilian clothes, except for Luke who'd been clad in a brown robe.
A Jedi Master's robe.
They had all looked at least twenty years older.
Han felt his world, his universe, his entire reality spin. In over twenty years as a smuggler, he'd never seen a forged holo of that quality.
The kid had been telling the truth. He had been living in the wrong galaxy. Leia should be alive.
Leia should be alive.
"How do we fix this?" he asked Kyp.
Kyp Durron smiled.