Galaxies Apart

Twenty-Nine

Despite the fact that they were aboard possibly the galaxy's greatest wonder, right now the attention of everyone assembled wasn't on their surroundings.

"What?" Luke Skywalker said incredulously.

Kyp took another steadying breath.

"I'm from the future. You're a Jedi Master there. You were killed by your student aboard this station. The same student who went back in time and changed history."

Everyone's attention switched back to Luke.

"What?" he said again.

"Changed history so you never blew up the Death Star."

Luke's disbelieving stare immediately dimmed several hundred degrees. Watching him, Yoda felt himself let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. This was the information that could set Luke Skywalker back on the path to his rightful destiny.

Or, it could destroy him.

"I was meant to destroy it...?"

"Yes," Kyp nodded. "You should have succeeded. You did succeed. He changed that. He changed the rules. He cheated you - cheated everyone."

"And this place...?"

"We can use it to go back. To fix it."

Luke lowered his eyes from them all. He didn't speak for some moments, and when he did, it was in a hushed tone that none had heard him use before.

"If you're lying to me," he said, and despite not looking at Kyp, no-one was in any doubt as to whom he was speaking to, "if I find out that you're lying...I'll kill you."

Yoda closed his eyes. The tips of his long ears curled downward.

"Hey, just a minute-" Han stepped forward, but found Kyp's hand on his chest. A look from the younger Jedi silenced the smuggler.

Kyp walked forward and produced the holo recording from his tunic. He handed it to Luke, who activated it and gazed upon its image for a few moments. Without a word, the Jedi deactivated the holo and held it out before him. Kyp took it from him, their hands touching for a second-

-and Luke knew that the Jedi was lying.

Knew it as surely as he knew his own name.

"Ready to move on?" Han asked.

"Ready," Luke affirmed. As the group began to press onward and inward to the bowels of the massive space station, he kept his eyes firmly fixed on Kyp Durron. He would find a way to discover what it was the young man was hiding from them all.

And if necessary, he would make good on his promise.

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The Noghri, as a race, were to stealth and to hunting what only the best, most exceptional composers are to music. Born with a compactness of muscle which meant that strength could be matched by speed and athleticism, they were built for silence.

The Empire's assistance to the rebuilding process on Honoghr, the Noghri homeworld, after the disastrous impact of a Rebel Alliance vessel decades previously meant they were locked into a permanent debt. The only commodity they could offer was their stealth, and so Noghri warriors were shipped offworld en masse to serve the Empire as assassin squads, the most elite of commandos.

The 'assistance' provided by the Empire, of course, was completely fraudulent. Clean-up droids designed to slowly rid the poisoned Honoghr soil of its choking pollutants had been specially modified to apply a slow-acting toxin, massively slowing the process and, where necessary, worsening the pollution.

It meant that the Empire had a permanent supply of gifted soldiers whose total loyalty was assured.

Seven of their number were even now using all of the skills at their disposal. The building they were encircling held no ordinary target.

A Jedi was being hunted.

In such teams there was no need for signals, no need for gestures from one to the next. The unit was so closely attuned, so finely synchronised, it was as if they composed one larger being. Two vaulted the wall, scaled the ancient frame with ease and positioned themselves on the roof.

The Jedi had no guards. If their reputations were deserved, he might not need any.

Four bisected into two, the smaller groups fanning to the left and right of the structure, doing so in complete silence. Noghri never had to melt into the shadows. They were already there.

Every possible exit had been covered.

The Noghri leader took point. He was to have the honour of penetrating the target structure. One and a half metres of killer reached into his tool belt, extracted the necessary components. With a hiss the door fell in.

The Noghri leaped through, his hearing recording a snap-hiss and his nose scenting human. A faint scrabbling told the leader that his team was even now making their own entrances.

In a matter of moments the Jedi would be facing seven Noghri commandos. The leader wondered briefly if the Jedi knew that his attackers were not permitted to kill him.

He saw movement. The smoke from the explosion cleared.

He died a half-second later.

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"Master?"

On his throne, Palpatine stirred from his contemplation. He'd been meditating like that for what seemed an eternity now, Ston knew. Ever since the Vader conversation.

Reports were coming in from the neighbouring districts; a mysterious bacterial plague had caused three thousand people to asphyxiate simultaneously. Fear had gripped the populace. Ston doubted they would have been reassured by knowing the true cause of the wave of deaths.

"What is it?"

The porcine human waddled furiously to his Master's side, trying manfully to keep from shaking. Some people think that constant exposure to danger can dull a person's sense of fear, that a person can become immune to terror.

Try it, Ston thought bitterly.

"Incoming transmission."

"As I anticipated," the Emperor sighed with satisfaction, "put him through. Now."

Ston obliged hurriedly. The holo activated.

"Prophet," the Emperor said.

He got no reply from the holoscreen, only blue flickering light.

"Show yourself," the Emperor commanded.

Abruptly the view on the holo display changed. Instead of the tiny representation of Prophet the format expanded, to the head-and-shoulders view the Emperor himself favoured.

Ston gasped in nausea. He brought one trembling hand up to cover his mouth, the bile rising in his throat.

A disembodied Noghri face stared at them, tongue lolling pathetically and eyes staring, dull and dead.

"What," the voice of Prophet blasted, his face still obscured by the horrific visage, "is the meaning of this?"

"That," the Emperor replied, "is a Noghri operative of the Empire, if I am not mistaken. A former operative."

"Don't play games with me," Prophet hissed, as the Noghri head vanished to be replaced by his own.

Emperor Palpatine, formerly Darth Sidious, had quietly puppeted the galaxy for the last thirty years. Very little happened that he had not set into motion. Nothing had surprised him in some time.

"No," he breathed. "No...it can't be you."

"Believe it," Prophet replied. "Perhaps now you understand why I refused your kind offer to come to you. And that's why you sent your pet Noghri after me, isn't it? You wanted to bring me to heel."

Palpatine's mind raced for an explanation for this impossibility before him. He knew it couldn't be who it appeared to be. And if it wasn't-

Yes.

Yes, it had to be...

"Think about this," Palpatine said, as smoothly as he could muster. "The Noghri are not my pets."

"Vader...?"

Pressing his advantage, the Emperor leaned forward. "It is obvious. He has learned of your whereabouts...if not, I think, your identity...and, in his paranoia, deemed you a theat to him. He sent his disgusting little assassins. Obviously he underestimated your abilities. I would not dream of making the same error."

"What are you to do with him?"

"He is returning to Coruscant. He wishes to face me," Palpatine smiled with absolute certainty, "I will crush him. I will have him put to death. You realise, of course…that this will leave me without my apprentice, my most trusted representative. I will need a new Sith Lord. Who better than you?"

"You offer me this, even now you know?"

I know the truth, which you would conceal from me. I wonder what Vader would make of you?

"You have proven your loyalty. Your knowledge is unrivalled. And your warrior skills…" Palpatine coughed delicately, referring to the disembodied head, "…seem to be in place."

The head bowed. "I accept your offer...my Master."

"Then come to Coruscant. My Fleet's commanders will be here to witness the execution. The ideal opportunity to introduce them to their new Commander-in-Chief."

The Emperor smiled.

"It should be quite the occasion..."