Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars: TFU.

Note: Just to let you know that two weeks from today is Saturday the 31st, which means that I unfortunately won't be around to update that day. This means the next update will be very slightly delayed (on the Tuesday instead). Apologies in advance for that. I wish you all a very happy holiday!

Thanks, as always, to my wonderful readers and reviewers - I've received some really sweet reviews this last week or so, and I can't begin to tell you how happy it makes me. And of course, a huge thank you to Liisiko who has really helped me with some difficult draft chapters this week.

CHAPTER 20 - Visitor

Location: Besbrillmir / Rogue Shadow

"Apologies for the intrusion, Admiral T'arrk, but I thought you'd like to know that the Defiance has docked in the landing field."

Admiral T'arrk looked up slowly, setting down his utensils with exaggerated care. He was by no means a handsome man and the predatory look in his eyes was enough to send even a brave warrior scuttling out of the room. Heavy brows knotted low over fierce eyes, peering at the 'intruder' over a prominent, hooked nose.

The lower ranking officer shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat to buy himself some time before he continued: "The ship that reported the disturbances on board, Sir."

"I remember well enough, Lieutenant. Colonel Jameson is already in place with his unit. You do not think this will suffice?"

"There have been further reports of—"

The admiral slammed a fist against the table, rattling the cutlery. "The colonel is in position. Do you doubt his abilities, Lieutenant?"

"N-no, Sir!"

"Then leave me to my dinner in peace." He watched the officer scuttle out of the door and gave a cruel smirk, impressed at himself for being able to so easily intimidate the other man. It was one of the great pleasures that came with rank.

He settled himself back against the plush chair and lifted his fork again, spearing a piece of meat. He wasn't sure why everyone was making such a fuss. Surely the stowaway was just some renegade from the station. Someone with a death wish. It wouldn't take long for him to be rooted out and disposed of. It never did, especially not when Colonel Jameson was in charge. The man was ruthless and thorough.

The Empire needed more men like Jameson.

The admiral had almost finished his meal before there was another tap on the door. He already knew it was the shaky lieutenant; being sent back and forth like a messenger because he'd not yet found the confidence that his new promotion should have given him.

"You are testing my patience, Mackenzie."

The door slid open with a rush of air and the nervous man entered again. The harsh light picked out sweat beading on his temples.

"Admiral, the intruder—he's a Sith."

"A Sith?" He lifted a skeptical brow.

"He's asking to speak with you."

T'arrk instantly bristled, his senses tickling with a warning. Something was not right. Not right at all. Why would a Sith sneak aboard an Imperial vessel? Why would they not be warned of his arrival? Lord Vader had mentioned nothing during their last report and it was not like the Dark Lord to overlook a detail like this. So then, why was this 'Sith' here? Surely Vader would not be trying to cancel the work going on at the facility? This operation had been kept low key for a reason. It was important.

But if this man was not a Sith, could he be a Jedi masquerading as one?

The very thought of that seemed ridiculous. Jedi were practically extinct and the likelihood of the Rebels finding out about the goings on of this little moon was an impossible notion.

"I will need to look into this matter. Have our 'guest' remain aboard the Defiance until I have verified his identity."

"Yes, Sir!" The man snapped a sharp salute and turned out of the room.

Admiral T'arrk reluctantly pulled himself to his feet and followed after him. The guards posted outside of his door moved to tail him but he paid them no heed. Unconsciously his pace quickened, his lengthy stride carrying him swiftly down to the communications suite. Oncoming workers hastily leapt out of his way as he went; clearly concerned that he'd just plough right through them.

To be fair, he probably would.

His guards, clad in heavy armor, sounded out of breath when they finally arrived and the admiral barked orders as a way of greeting. At least three of the personnel in the circular chamber flinched upon hearing him.

"Get me the Executor. Now."

He stood silently, arms crossed, fingers drumming impatiently against his elbow as he watched the displays shift and change on the walls. Some of the displays held images of beautiful and dramatic landscapes; to make up for the non-existent windows in the mostly underground facility. T'arrk had always found them more irritating than comforting.

"Can someone bring up the camera overlooking the landing field?" He snapped impatiently. One of the displays – containing an image of an awe-inspiring waterfall – shifted to a stretch of field peppered with an array of Imperial vessels. The sleek-nosed shape of the Defiance was in clear view and, at its side, was a rather large gathering of soldiers. T'arrk narrowed his eyes to try and pick out any unfamiliar face amongst the crowd and was surprised to note that the so-called 'Sith' appeared to be barely more than a teenager.

"Connection established, Admiral."

He stepped forward to initiate the contact and the blue holographic image of the Dark Lord flared.

"Lord Vader." The man acknowledged.

"Make this quick, Admiral."

The admiral squared his shoulders and got straight to the point – as he always did. "I have just been informed that a Sith has landed here on Besbrillmir. Was this your doing or do I have a situation?"

Vader, with his mask covering his face, was a difficult man to read, but the slight hesitation in his response was as significant as if he'd widened his eyes in surprise.

"He is a Force-user." Came the stalled response. "But he is an enemy of the Empire."

"What would you have me do, Lord Vader?"

"He is an unpredictable and powerful man, Admiral. Are the containment cells still operational?"

"Of course."

"Good. They should be sufficient. Keep him contained until I can arrange transportation."

T'arrk gave a firm nod. "Very well, Lord Vader."

"And, if he causes you any trouble, you have my permission to test out those prototypes you have been overseeing. He would make an interesting test subject."

The admiral wasn't sure whether that remark comforted him or worried him. Was this 'boy' so strong that Vader believed the prototypes might be necessary? He noted on the display of the landing field, that the intruder was edging his way closer to the facility, the colonel hot on his heels. Sure, T'arrk had always known there was a risk to his health by working here, and many a man had already lost their lives on this project, but he hadn't even considered the possibility of a Force-user arriving to wipe them all out. It was one thing to suggest using the containment cells, but how exactly were they going to get this new arrival into one of them without alerting him to the trap?

He marched back down the corridor with the two guards at his side and pulled up short at the sound of raised, alarmed voices. Then, he altered his course and double-timed it in the direction of the sound and swung around into the 'welcome lounge' to find the colonel gesturing the Sith through.

"What is going on here?" The admiral barked, striding confidently across the room and going against his instincts that were telling him to make a hasty retreat. His eyes snapped to the lieutenant, who had paled at seeing his arrival. "I told you to keep our guest outside until his credentials had been verified."

"I did, Sir!" The man replied. "But the colonel…" He trailed helplessly, his eyes flicking across to an extremely confused looking Colonel Jameson.

"Never mind, I'll deal with you later." His sharp eyes snapped across to the boy. He seemed to be wounded, though how badly he couldn't be too sure. He was thin, of average height and had those awful, Sith eyes; fiery and animalistic. Up close, he looked haggard and older, but T'arrk guessed he was likely around twenty years old. "His credentials came through clear."

Drawing in a slow breath between his teeth, he stepped forwards to address the youngster; pushing away fear and hesitation. He had a reputation to uphold.

The Apprentice had used the Force to sway the colonel into taking him into the facility. But now that he was inside, face to face with the man in charge, he wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to be doing. He needed to determine where he was, what this place did and whether it would be of any use to him on his mission.

Flagging from fatigue and pain, he did not even stop to think on what credentials the admiral could have found to see him able to walk freely into the facility.

He stepped forwards and the colonel reached up to halt him with a hand on his shoulder. Without thinking, the Apprentice reached back and broke the man's fingers. He came to regret the action a second later, however, when the man's yowl of pain sent waves of pain across his skull.

The admiral, who was moving forward to address him, paused and frowned. The Apprentice was strangely impressed to note that the man wasn't afraid – or, at least, didn't show his fear openly. He was braver than most.

"I'll ask you politely not to injure my officers." His voice was carefully tamed.

"My apologies, Admiral." There was a very slight sarcastic tone to the words.

"May I ask why you are here? And why you stowed away on one of our ships?"

"I am on a classified mission for Lord Vader." The Apprentice replied easily, noting the slight rising of the man's brows. He was good at hiding his fear, then, but not so good at hiding his surprise.

"I see. Your name and rank?"

This simple question brought about a momentary silence. After all, what was his name? He was certainly not as weak and easily swayed as the original apprentice; Starkiller. He was certainly not the pitiful child, Galen Marek. He was a clone, created to be perfect. Designed to bring order and carry out his Master's will. So what was his name? Could he even be considered an apprentice until he had completed his task and been accepted back?

"I am Lord Vader's apprentice." He announced at last, not knowing what else to say, and feeling strangely disturbed by it. "I bear no name."

"Then welcome to Besbrillmir. If you'd like to follow me?"

The Apprentice walked at T'arrk's side, eying the guards threateningly. "What do you do here at this facility?"

"We're the only moon of Fondor that is currently being used to test prototype droids; mainly for maintenance tasks and security. I'm here to check on progress being made and to pull the funding if it doesn't meet expectation. I'm pleased to announce that progress has more than met my expectations so far."

The Apprentice found himself struggling to listen to the admiral. His eyes darted about him, trying to memorize the routes, to look for ways out of rooms that might hold something of use. He heard the angry hiss of a welder working away behind one of the doors and smelled the heavy odor of engine oil. It was hard, however, to ascertain just how big the facility was. From the outside he had seen the large, domed entrance; smooth and shining like a beetle shell. He had picked out the small humps beneath the soil that could have signified rooms and the protruding shapes of antennas and satellites. The rest of the landscape had been flat fields, many of them scattered with crops. The moon had clearly been used for agriculture long before it had been used to build droids.

"I take it Besbrillmir was not your destination?"

"No." The Apprentice replied. "I was meant for Fondor."

"We can organize a shuttle to take you to Fondor with no problem."

The Apprentice shifted his gaze to meet that of the older man's. He sounded eager to get that shuttle moving and to get him away from this place. Was it because he was intimidated by a Sith or was there something to hide here? Whatever it was, there was something not quite right about the situation and it put him on edge.

"You sound awfully keen to be rid of me."

"If you are on a mission for Vader I do not want to be the one to hold you up. I am sure you know as well as I do what happens to those who fail him."

The Apprentice immediately felt himself go on the defensive. "And why would I know that?" He snarled. "I have not and will not fail him."

"Neither have I." The admiral replied swiftly. "But his wrath is infamous."

"Where are we going?" The Apprentice asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.

"You appear to be in need of medical assistance? We have a state-of-the-art medical bay here on the facility."

"No."

"No?"

"No." The clone affirmed. "My wounds are not serious enough to require medical attention." A lie, yes, but he was starting to feel uncomfortable. There was something going on that he wasn't aware of and his senses prickled with warning. His hand instinctively lifted to brush against one of his sabers.

"Very well. Then what do you say to stopping here for a moment? There's a project being developed in these rooms that might interest you. I know Vader has taken an interest in this particular piece of work and as his apprentice, you may like to see it first hand for when you report back."

The Sith narrowed his eyes.

"I'll take your silence as a yes." T'arrk swept into the room and the Apprentice followed, the guards pressing close. The Apprentice couldn't help but wonder if they realized who they were trying to push around.

"Bear with me one moment." The admiral continued, pausing opposite one of the desks.

The room was long and narrow, the far side lined with workstations. The room was busy, with ten scientists at work. One of them was bent over his desk, a pair of magnifying goggles strapped over his eyes as he tinkered with a tiny contraption. The admiral was talking to another one of the workers and he slipped closer in an attempt to overhear.

The worker, dressed in a white lab coat, looked suddenly startled and then the admiral, punching a key code into the panel on the side of the desk, unlocked the compartment beneath it.

T'arrk reached a hand inside the drawer and lifted something up carefully into his palm before turning around. The scientist hovered nearby, his eyes on the small, squat shape settled on the admiral's palm. It was like a tiny, mechanical insect with a bulbous body containing a murky liquid.

The Apprentice shifted uncomfortably, his fingers closing over the hilt of his saber, brushing his thumb over the activator switch.

T'arrk, with a slight twitch of a smile, touched the miniature droid and held it up higher still. A small light indicated its activation and, without warning, it sprang forwards. The clone's saber came up to cut it mid-leap, but the little insect seemed to have predicted this. It attached itself to his forearm, legs locking itself into place. Almost simultaneously, a sharp prick of pain drove through his arm and he reached across with his free hand to wrench it off. It came away with surprising ease and went flying across the room.

Then he went on the offence, pivoting into his next move, cutting the first guard clean in half. The second guard hastened back out of the room as the Sith raised a hand and sent a blast of Force power after him.

Satisfied that he now had a clean escape route, he turned on his heel again to face the admiral; evil intent glaring in his inhuman eyes.

And then, without warning, he staggered and pitched forwards onto his knees. Shocked at his own uncooperative limbs, he immediately tried to stand again, pushing himself up so as to finish the advance he had started. But his legs refused to obey him and he dropped again, disorientated and confused. The world spun and he thought of the murky liquid in the body of that droid and the prick of pain; reminiscent of a needle.

A burst of anger spurred him on and, and desperate to regain control he lashed out with a blast of Sith Lightning to make up for the lack of use in his legs.

The devastating energy smashed into the wall – missing its mark – and then fizzled out as another wave of weakness overcame him. He pressed a palm against the floor to steady himself.

He was aware of movement behind him and forced himself back to his feet, lurching to defend himself. His fingers trembled so violently that they struggled to maintain a grip on the saber and, as he swung out, it slipped from his grasp. Too muddle-headed to think straight, he stooped to retrieve it and his sense of balance seemed to give out entirely.

Suddenly the floor was there; cold and unkind against the side of his face, and the world faded into darkness.

Distantly, the admiral's voice ordered: "Have the guards carry him down to the containment cells. Vader wishes him to be transported back in one piece."

"You're not planning to make a scene during the meeting with the Senators, are you, Master?" PROXY inquired lightly.

"That depends on how cooperative they're going to be."

"And if they're not?"

"You can't get something for nothing. If they think they can manipulate me into doing whatever they want then they're going to be extremely disappointed."

"I don't think you can compare the Senators with Vader, Master."

"Why not?" He shifted in his chair; agitated. "They can't rule me with fear, like Vader did, but they can still manipulate in other ways. I'm nothing more than an asset to them, just like I was to him. If they lose me, they won't mourn the man. They'll mourn the loss of a weapon – just like they did with Kota."

"It might not go as badly as you expect."

"I already know how it's going to go."

PROXY's photoreceptors seemed to dim a little. "I do not understand the way your species thinks, Master, but complicated situations sometimes do seem to turn out to have a surprisingly simple response."

No reply that time, though Galen's fingers tugged irritably at a loose thread on the arm of his chair.

"Captain Eclipse has dealt with them before. Perhaps she can reason with them?"

"She shouldn't have to reason with them. They should see how important this is and offer their support." He stood. "Without me – without the original Starkiller – they wouldn't even have a rebellion to lead." But maybe that was it. He wasn't the Starkiller who had started the rebellion. He was just some copy. They might have owed his original, but him? Did they owe him anything?

No. They clearly didn't.

"You might find, Master, that you do not need to search for him at all. It's in his programming to kill you. He won't hide forever."

He sighed. "That's what I'm worried about."

"We're due to arrive in Corellia airspace in approximately thirty minutes, Master. Would you like me to wake Juno?"

"No. Watch the ship. I'll go get her."

To be continued...

Next update: 3rd January (Tuesday)

See you all again in the new year! Happy Holidays!