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Note: Here is the next instalment! The next update should be up on Saturday as usual. Thanks again to all my reviewers/readers/subscribers and, as always, to Liisiko for her beta skills.

CHAPTER 13 - Assembling

Location: Selonia / XF-32

He filled his mind with the sound of the sea. Feeling the Force flow through it, shift with it, come and go with it. It moved around the shining shapes of fish, through the lines of their scales, rushing through their gills and rippled away on rapid fins. The power of it came with the waves, spreading out, fading, curling and lapping at the sand. Particles of sand shifted, darkened, grew heavier and held the shape of the paws that stepped over its smooth surface.

It crawled unseen through the sand and air. It lifted the stones up from their beds, drawing them away from comfort. They tilted on their axis like miniature planets; turning perfect ovals around and around.

One rock was brushed aside and sent spinning erratically through the air. Losing height. Falling. Joining with the sea.

The sound of its submersion drew him from his meditation, aware that he was no longer alone.

He set each rock down slowly and cast a glance sideways, spying the Selonian who had joined him. There were more, in fact, if his senses were correct. The one he could see, however, was the young male to whom he owed his life.

The Selonian leant down and lifted one of the rocks, turning it over in his paw as if expecting to find some explanation for what he'd just seen.

"Uh, Retto, isn't it?"

The Selonian's head snapped up, large eyes blinking rapidly. He nodded once and pointed at himself. "Retto."

"You saved me from drowning." Galen continued. "Thank you."

The male clearly did not understand, but he seemed comfortable enough to draw closer, kneeling down carefully a few steps from where Galen sat. After a moment he held out the stone and chattered encouragingly.

"I don't—" Galen paused, looking at the stone being offered back to him. With a smirk, he flicked his wrist flippantly and sent the rock hurtling out into the darkness; the Force driving it far further than if he had just thrown it.

Retto gave a surprised sound and spoke with great enthusiasm. He trailed after a moment, clearly remembering that the Human knew nothing of his language. Then, deciding on a different approach, he lifted the glaive from its strap slung diagonally across his chest and jabbed at the air. He pivoted on a heel, swinging the glaive around and drove it forwards with incredible force. Galen imagined such a move would quite easily have the strength to impale a man's chest.

The male paused and gestured towards Galen. "Jedi…Jedi…glaive ob-stka?"

"I'm sorry. I don't understand."

"No understand?" Retto echoed. He looked disheartened but then strengthened his resolve a moment later, drawing up one hand to point towards Galen's belt.

"My lightsaber?" He unclipped the cylinder from his hip and got to his feet, lifting it up. Retto just stood; watching patiently, clearly waiting for Galen to do something.

Spinning the hilt between his fingers, he ignited the blade and allowed it to settle comfortably in his palm. Instantly, the Selonian gave an excited chitter, dropping into a defensive stance and tilting the glaive in his hand; its point directed straight towards Galen.

Suddenly it all became clear.

"You want to…duel with me?"

Retto said nothing, continuing to edge a slow circle around him, weapon held up defensively. Galen, taking a short step back, adjusted the power of the blade so it would not cut through the wooden shaft of the Selonian Glaive. To show its reduced power, he bounced the blade against his palm, feeling nothing more than a strange, static buzz tingle up his hand and arm.

Seemingly satisfied, Retto lunged forwards and, despite his injuries Galen twisted neatly out of danger, lifting his saber to meet with the other weapon and knocking it aside. Retto proved to be a rather average fighter. His attacks, whilst strong and forceful, became horribly predictable after only a few moments.

Then, after a few exchanges, the Selonian sprang backwards and raised his arms in surrender - which turned out to be a good thing, because Galen's wounds had started to bother him again.

Galen, extinguishing his blade, turned to see that five others had crept forwards to watch. All of them were youngsters, many of them smaller than Retto and one of them barely half his size. However, they seemed to be rather amused at the whole thing and, at seeing the duel ended, began speaking in swift, excited voices. Retto seemed suddenly sheepish, dipping his head and tail. Galen didn't need to hear what they were saying to know that they were taunting him.

Without warning, one of the youngsters sprang at Retto and snatched the glaive from his grasp, dashing back across the firm sand towards Galen. She brandished it, but in good spirits, and fell into a defensive stance. The others settled in to watch and Galen - with a weary smirk - activated his lightsaber again, mimicking her posture.

Surprisingly, the younger female was a more experienced opponent. She knew far more combinations, more moves and was clearly trying to practice being a trickster in battle; baiting and luring him into a position that she could take advantage of. Unfortunately for her, Galen wasn't about to fall for any of them. And as he duelled with her, he remembered that all of the guards he'd seen so far had been female. Perhaps the males in the community were not customarily taught how to fight?

Even still, for all that she had learned, her skill was in no way comparable to Galen's and a few moments later she admitted defeat. However, unlike with Retto, the other Selonian children seemed incredibly impressed with how their friend had fought and huddled close to her, chattering excitedly.

Galen took that opportunity to slip away.

Kota was not onboard and, since neither of the guards spoke any Basic at all, Galen didn't waste much time trying to question them on his whereabouts.

Juno, on the other hand, was a lot easier to find. She was still in the pilot's seat, slumped forwards against the console, head pillowed against her arms.

It was utterly adorable.

Kneeling beside her, he touched her cheek, drawing her back from slumber to semi-wakefulness. Her eyelids parted with some reluctance.

"Tired?" He asked, quietly.

"Hm." She drew herself up from the console, rubbing groggily at her face. The imprint of the folds of her clothing left a trail across her cheek. "What time is it?"

"Time for sleep."

She gave him a slow smile and took his offered hand, gathering her feet under her. "Where've you been?"

"Meditating." Without warning he leaned forwards and lifted her up into his arms, turning to carry her out of the cockpit. A mistake, perhaps, as his side complained with renewed vigor and his step faltered slightly as he waited for it to pass. She turned her head in against his chest and released a slow breath, already seeming to be slipping back into sleep.

Ignoring the protests of his wounds, he edged down the corridor and across to the bunk room, setting her down carefully. Her arms came up to loop around his neck and, gently, he eased out of her insistent grasp.

"Where are you going?" She mumbled; an arm still elevated towards him.

"I…" He paused, thinking back to their heated conversation earlier that day. "I'm sorry."

She frowned. "Apologize in the morning. I'm too tired to appreciate it right now." She shifted to make room for him, waving at him to join her.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"The clone might make his move. I need to stay awake."

"Kota is awake." She mumbled and then added. "Just lie here with me then. You can sense him from here as well as you would anywhere else."

After a moment of reluctance, he nodded, pausing only to remove his boots and utility belt, throwing them carelessly aside. Then he was lying next to her, the warmth of her body pressed against his good side, her head across his heart. He stroked her hair and, with a wave of his hand, killed the lights.

Consciousness returned to the Apprentice gradually; a pinprick of awareness expanding to reveal more and more to his slowly recovering senses.

He was aware, first, of a nauseating pain throbbing at the base of his skull and a persistent ringing in his ears as if a grenade had gone off at his feet. He sucked in a breath and choked on the dry, stale air. The jarring motion brought a fresh slash of pain across his chest and his eyes flared wide; contracting pupils almost consumed by fiery gold.

The fizz-pop sound of electricity dragged him further into a state of awareness and, with a great deal of discomfort, lifted himself up onto his hands and knees; coughing violently to clear his lungs.

Pushing himself up to his feet, he staggered dangerously, throwing out an arm to brace himself against cold, buckled durasteel. His other hand came up to press across the fiery brand on his chest, he glanced down at the tear in his tunic; the edges burned.

Then he remembered the duel and the pain of the memories drilled into his mind. He clutched helplessly at his skull, wavering dangerously on his feet. But. as suddenly as it came, it passed, leaving him shaken and empty. Thick blood seeped from his nostrils and he wiped it with the back of his hand, grimacing at the pain the act sent shooting through him. His nose was likely broken as well.

What other wounds had that inferior clone inflicted? And…where was he? Alive? Dead? And what of himself? How had he managed to get here?

It hurt to think.

Light emitters crackled above his head, exposed wires spitting with angry sparks. The room was badly damaged, the durasteel flooring twisted and torn. At the lowest point in the room, water had collected; its still surface perfectly reflecting the bands of blue lights flickering on and off on the ceiling above. Looking up, he could see the stormy, early morning sky through a circular perforation in the ship's hull.

He remembered.

He struck the hull hard, driving the breath from his lungs. Bounced and spun; ship streaming below him – faster now as it descended. He attempted to gain some control of his flight -if it could even be called that- and used the Force to propel himself back towards the ship's side.

He hit the durasteel plating again. Fingers scrabbled to find purchase. An elbow hooked around the neck of a communications dish, fixing him in place. A red saber flared in his hand. He drove it downwards like a dagger; carving into the side of the ship. It screamed as if in pain, the hot edge working through the strengthened steel. Then he was through, dropping down into the room below. Above him space had turned to fire as the ship hit the atmosphere. Trying frantically to close off the room. Trying to keep himself safe. Finally, the missing chunk of the ship was hefted back into place sealing the gap.

The whole ship jarred with bone-breaking force. Another shockwave ripped through the structure, throwing the Apprentice across the room. His head struck one of the metal beams and the world rushed away from him.

The piece of the ship was missing now, exposing that heavy, grey sky. It seemed to be offering him something. Freedom, perhaps? A chance to escape from all of this? But he wouldn't take it. He couldn't. That was the 'inferior' way of thinking. If he ran from this now, he would be no better than that pathetic, love-sick fool and then what purpose would he serve?

Using his pain and his hate, he drew on the Force and began to fold stray pieces of metal into that gap. Closing off the world. Closing off escape.

In the darkness the blue lights flickered, highlighting his form limping towards the door. He pried it open with such strength that it was torn from its frame and sent crashing back against the wall. With his hands planted on the frame, he stepped up into the slanted corridor and dragged himself along the walkway. Most of the lights in the corridor were out, casting irregular bands of darkness across his path. The lack of visibility did not matter. He knew where he had to go.

Down the corridor to the junction, turn left, through the large double doors and up to the raised platform. There, on the raised level, was a curved console: his destination.

Walking helped work the stiffness out of his joints. Helped him forget the pains of his injuries. It comforted him, also, to think that the inferior clone had probably come off a lot worse than he had. Which was only to be expected, of course.

And, as he stepped up to the dark consoles, he saw the reflection of his face in the empty display. His nose was clearly broken, his face caked with dried blood. This appearance would not make a good impression when he called upon his master, but he was left with little choice.

Vader would be waiting for his call.

He initiated the start-up system, waiting with some impatience for the display to flicker to life. Many of the screens had been damaged and only three were left functioning after the impact of the crash. Most of the buttons and dials no longer provided any assistance as he tested them for those that worked.

Thankfully, the holographic system had also malfunctioned, keeping his bloodied and battered appearance from sight, though it was likely his master could guess at his state.

The connection took an unbearable length of time.

"The failed clone still lives." Vader's sudden and controlled voice held a strong undertone of anger and disapproval.

The Apprentice had to keep himself from dropping to one knee, momentarily forgetting that Vader couldn't see him. "I am still confident in defeating him, my Master. He was badly wounded during our duel."

"As were you."

"I am still able to fight." The Apprentice snapped; his fear of rejection disguised by anger.

There was a painfully long silence and then; "Perhaps you are still useful to me, after all."

"The clone is not far from the ship, Master. It will not take long to find him."

"No." The word was like a knife, severing him from his thoughts. "You will remain here. Already they make a move to come for you."

"They?"

"General Kota and some natives."

"And what of the clone and the woman?"

"Kill the old man and they will come to you."

"Yes, my Master."

"You will be receiving two activation codes. The first will trigger any surviving droids to aid you in this task."

The Apprentice glowered. "And the second?"

"Will activate the explosive device stored within the ship."

"Explosive device?"

"It should give you enough time to destroy the targets and escape the ship."

"Master, I am strong enough to destroy them."

"But if you should fail, the bomb will not."

The lack of confidence his master had in his abilities disturbed him.

"Do not make me regret giving you this opportunity."

He bowed his head, even though Vader could not see him. "I will not fail you, my Master."

There was no response to that. The connection had been broken and when the Apprentice looked up again, it was to see the activation codes uploading.

"Master thinks you are weak like the other." He hissed under his breath, hands gripping the edge of the console. "You'll show him he's wrong. You'll prove you can do this."

"But what if I fail?" He questioned himself. "No. No I won't. I will take my rightful place at his side."

The activation codes came through and he brought them up on the panel with a trembling hand. The first code – to boot up the droids – seemed to do nothing. He could hear no whirring of servomotors or the chug of blaster barrels coming into operation. Perhaps there were no working droids remaining?

The other code, however, blinked an ominous red timer on the display. Two hours. Just two standard hours to do away with his past and claim his true destiny.

Kota's voice was echoed by another's.

To his left stood the hunched figure of Terreef, translating his words for the Selonian warriors who had been gathered to help infiltrate the fallen ship. At his right stood PROXY and all around him were the twenty Selonian warriors and the men sent by Viedas to accompany them. All were armed and ready.

The briefing was short and simple. Kota and his men would drop down onto the ship from above whilst the Selonians would enter from the submerged openings, searching through the ship. Contact between the two would be near impossible, due to the language barrier, but the Selonian Captain, Lesew, would carry a com-link on her to alert for trouble. The signal for trouble? A single word: Sith.

She spoke it then, attaching the small com-link to her belt.

"They understand what must be done?" Kota double-checked. He wasn't happy with involving the Selonians at all, particularly without someone to aid them if they found trouble. He just hoped that he found the clone before they did…or that the queen might change her mind and put some trust into him to get this done. But, from what he could tell, she'd decided that to ensure the safety of the den, a small number could easily be sacrificed.

"Search tunnels. Look for Sith. Let you know if you find him. All understood, yes." Terreef answered his question.

"They must not try to engage him if it can be avoided."

"What does this Sith look like?"

Kota paused. "A young male Human. The lightsabers he carries." He held up his own. "Are red. He'll also be wounded, but how so, I can't say."

"General, where will I be?"

"You'll be here, PROXY. That ship is no place for a droid." Kota glanced across at the others who had come to gather. Amongst them were Retto and some of the other young Selonians. "You'll be needed here if anything goes wrong. These people must be protected."

Again he turned to Terreef. "Are you able to barricade the den if the worst happens?"

The greying female gave a low grumble of thought. "We can, though may not get it done in time. Doors are very heavy. Use mainly when the storms come."

"Well, that's where a Jedi can come in handy."

"Handy?"

"Prove useful."

The sound of boots crunched against the shale. "General."

"Ah, and here comes the Jedi right now." Kota turned towards Galen.

He did not look particularly well-rested – Like Kota, he had been lying awake, waiting for the dreaded sign that the clone had made a move – but he was dressed in a new set of clothes; a thin shirt of dark blue crossed over with buckles attaching durasteel spaulders to his shoulders. Dark grey trousers had been bound with bandages from knee to ankle – disappearing into heavy-duty boots. They'd probably been too loose fitting for his liking. The fact that he was wearing armor was also telling; the thin, overlapping plates probably there to protect his already wounded shoulder.

The dark circles beneath his eyes made him seem even more pale than usual but he moved with the same confident swagger as always – hiding his injuries very well. Kota supposed that this was an automatic survival instinct, much like a wild animal would mask its weakness to avoid getting picked off by predators. A lesson taught to him the hard way by Vader, no doubt.

"Good timing, boy. Just got to the part where you come in."

"General…" The younger 'Jedi' faltered, casting a glance across to Terreef. "Can I speak with you a moment?"

"No." The reply was swift. "There's no time for you to be stubborn today." He set a hand on Galen's armored shoulder. "When I'm gone, you can't just sit back and relax. I've got a job for you to do. Well, more than one job, in fact." He dismissed the thought with a wave of a hand. "These people will need you to protect them and lead them into battle if the worst comes to pass."

"Lead people I can't even understand? Wait…battle? Kota—" He shook his head. "—I'm not going to need help."

Kota's eyes flashed. "Help or not. They won't be denied the right to protect their home. Their queen has insisted that her people help oversee this to ensure we don't bring further trouble to their den."

Galen set his jaw.

"Terreef will help you communicate with the Selonians but I'm sure you'll be able to think of some way of getting your message across to them. Now, listen. Your second job involves the protection of these people. If the Sith comes, the dens will need to have been sealed to keep their children, males and – most importantly – their queen safe."

"I'm sure they can handle themselves."

"Against the Sith? Use your head, boy!" He lowered his voice. "They are strong, yes, but they'll be as useless as stormtroopers are up against you."

"I shouldn't be here with them. I should be going with you."

"See, now, I can handle myself."

Galen snorted. "Ever the overconfident one."

"I didn't get this far by lacking faith in my own abilities."

Galen rolled his eyes, looking unconvinced. "And you call me stubborn, old man." And then, with less sarcasm and more concern, he added: "I've got a really bad feeling about this."

Well, then maybe we're doing something right…

The words haunted him, blocking out any response that Kota might have given.

Above them the leaden clouds seemed to grow darker still; threatening rain. Without warning, Kota turned back to Terreef. "It is agreed, then. My friend will be staying behind to see to it that no harm comes to your people. It would be wise to choose some warriors to stay and fight at his side. The rest should head into the dens. Make it clear to them that this could be their final battle."

Terreef's eyes hardened with cruel understanding.

"You'll have to get someone to show my friend, here, how to seal up the entrances. It might be best to do it sooner rather than later."

"Yes, Jedi."

With a stern nod, Kota left her side, returning to his warriors – Human and Selonian alike. He paused only to touch at his com-link, making contact with his shuttle. "Bring her down, men."

He turned to see that Galen was still with him.

"Remind me, again, why I'm letting you do this." Galen muttered darkly.

"Because…as you are now, you cannot face him and win."

"What?" He arched a brow, shaking his head disbelievingly.

"You look at him and you see nothing but a reflection of what you might become. You doubt yourself. You doubt your very identity."

Galen looked momentarily stricken.

"You can't beat him like that."

"And what makes you think that you can?" His fists clenched, anger creeping into his tone.

"I'm no fool, boy. Even wounded, that apprentice is far stronger than I am. But, if I can keep him from focusing. If I can turn his emotions back on himself…" He trailed, giving Galen time to catch onto his train of thought. "He is in turmoil. Afraid. Angry and confused. I can use these to my advantage."

"Clones…" Galen whispered, recalling the horrific words of the Cerean medic all that time ago. "Suicidal…you're going to drive him to take his own life."

"It can be done." Kota replied with a stern nod. "Mark my words, boy, it can be done."

To be continued...