Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars: The Force Unleashed
Note: a huge thank you to reviewers and readers, as always. I hope you enjoy the next instalment. Progress on draft chapters is going well and I hope to be able to keep to schedule through until the end. Huge thanks must also go out to Liisiko for being a fabulous beta.
CHAPTER 32 - Games
Location: Medical Station / Bandomeer
At first glance, the small medical station looked perfectly sound; shaped like a flower with its petals half-furled. A closer look, however, and one might see the glowing spots of vibrant orange; the tell-tale sign of fire.
The emergency systems had been swift to react to the unexpected incidents; blast doors slamming closed, alarms blaring. But there was no one left to evacuate. They were all dead. Patients, staff and visitors alike.
The dark clone felt almost drunk on the destruction he had caused, his step strangely giddy as he made his way back through to where his commandeered ship waited for him. Behind him, the ghostly figure of his newly acquired 'companion' followed; his presence sporadic but mostly ignorable.
"How many more stations are you going to attack like this?" The robed man sneered.
The dark clone ignored him.
"Maybe they don't come because you are no threat. Maybe they're waiting for you to destroy yourself. I have to admit that there is sense in such a plan."
This time the Apprentice whirled to defend himself, fists clenched.
There was no one there. There never had been anyone there.
With lightning crackling along his forearms, he turned and stalked on towards his ship; wishing that the noisy klaxon would just die along with everything else.
The old, battered ship was only just noticeable; settled in the small, darkened docking bay in all its aged glory. It was surprising that it had even made it through deep space to the medical station at all.
Standing to attention at the ship's side were the last remaining assassin droids; silent sentries, unmoving and dark. Just beyond them, the loading ramp in the starboard side of the ship was open and curled inside the doorway was the Cerean; silent and shaking. His face was buried in his hands, his head bowed. The dark clone might not have been himself but he knew the scientist had been attempting to escape whilst he had been gone. Unfortunately for Alin, he'd not been able to get through the twisted doors to the cockpit – ruined by the Force to prevent him access.
The clone didn't even glance his way as he stepped up into the ship and used the Force to pull open the warped doors. The shuttle was completely powered down and as he brought some of the scanners back online, old technology began to whine and judder as if in complaint. His eyes flicked over the readings but still there was nothing. No tell-tale blips of ships approaching. No grainy attempts at communication. With a frown, his eyes sought the time but it did not help, not when he couldn't remember what time they had arrived. He had no idea how long the violent 'clean-up' had taken.
In his head, the derisive laughter echoed again.
He did his best to ignore it.
An expanse of blue spread thick over gold. Dry air dancing in the heat. Intense light reflecting back from rolling, sweeping dunes. Dual suns so bright that the white spots remained even as the image shifted to darkness. And, in the depth of cold, black space, an unnatural grey moon loomed. It was a predator waiting to strike; casting a shadow of terror across the galaxy.
And a voice breathed out into the open expanse. A voice that held a semblance of familiarity.
'You're my only hope.'
'You're my only hope.'
And then that unnatural, metal orb hanging in the sky came sharply into focus and recognition struck like a cold, hard fist. The perfect, circular crater in its surface – like a dark, hollow eye – had begun to pulsate with a feverish green light. The super cannon charging. Pulsating like some otherworldly heart. Bearing down towards him; so strong and powerful that the fabric of space seemed torn in two. He lifted his arms to protect himself from the heat—
—And the sound of raised voices ripped him away from the vision.
Galen's mind reeled from the shock of what he had seen; his heart battering wildly against the bars of his ribcage. He would have thought the vision a nightmare if it hadn't been for one simple fact. The Death Star looked different from when he—his original self—had infiltrated it. It looked whole. It was complete. And that superlaser had been primed and ready. Aimed straight at him. No. Not him. Something else.
A cold dread began to seep through his veins and the voices outside grated against his frayed nerves.
"I need to see him. I have my orders just as you have. Let me through." Someone was insisting and it took a moment for Galen to remember exactly where he was.
Bandomeer. He was on Bandomeer and he had been for a little over three weeks now, aiding with the resistance. Their goal: to reclaim some of the more isolated ionite mines from Imperial control. Success had been mixed, to say the least – mostly because they were trying to avoid drawing too much attention to themselves – but they had been making some progress. Galen was not used to these slow-paced tactics and the bureaucracy was beginning to grate on his nerves. Even so, he tried to turn his attention to that, rather than the haunting vision that had him on edge.
Trying to wipe the images of the Death Star from his mind, however, was easier said than done. The memories it had dredged up were distinctly unpleasant. Well, mostly unpleasant. There was one good memory tagged on to all the bad ones, though it was partnered with feelings of regret and sadness.
"I'll relay the orders for you." The disagreement outside the room continued, forcing Galen to pry himself away from the aftershock of his experience.
"I am to deliver this message myself."
"What's going on here?" Galen's tone came out angrier than he had intended and the two soldiers jolted to attention.
"Master Jedi." The 'intruder' snapped a sharp salute. "I bring word. The teams are in position and ready to advance."
Galen tensed at the title. He wasn't a 'master' of anything and he still didn't consider himself to be a Jedi; probably never would. "It's Starkiller." He corrected in a grim tone, though he didn't much like that pseudonym either. "On whose authority are they out there?"
"That'd be the general's, sir."
Galen felt his teeth clench with frustration. The interfering, pompous old fool seemed purposely trying to aggravate him. "Well get them back. I thought I made it clear that I was doing this alone."
"With all due respect, Starkiller." The officer spoke carefully. "He outranks us. We can't go against orders. If he wants the team on this, he'll get it."
"Not if I have anything to say about it." He started down the tunnel that opened up on a cliff-face on to which an unsteady staircase had been assembled.
This was the beginning of the objective they had been pushing towards for some weeks now. A large mine still rich in ionite. Their targets thus far had been small and not enough to provoke any sort of reaction from the Empire. This one, however, would spark retaliation and when that happened, a lot of people would end up dead. Unless he went in alone.
And he really did mean alone.
Unlike him, Juno had not been stationed on Bandomeer with him. In fact, he wasn't even sure where she was at that moment. It had been four days since their last communication and he doubted he would hear from her again until she'd finished putting the newly recruited pilots she was training through their paces.
He'd ordered PROXY to stay with her; if only to give himself peace of mind whilst they were separated. But he still worried and the pang of yearning hadn't faded with time, either. If anything, time had only made it worse. He still couldn't quite believe that he had agreed to assisting the effort. Juno was clearly more convincing than he had thought. But she was right. Perhaps he did need this. To prove to himself and others that he was not an uncontrollable weapon.
He was picking up speed as he neared the recently constructed dais that was their allocated central point of communication. The general was there, waving his arms in an overdramatic fashion as he discussed some strategy or other with a group of officers. Their conversation dipped as they spotted Galen approaching; as if sensing this impending clash. It wouldn't have been the first time.
"Ah, Starkiller, there you are. I was beginning to think you'd abandoned us." The general was a short, tubby man with an outrageously styled moustache. The front of his pristine uniform was decorated with the insignia of his rank and medals of past battles won. "The troops are ready and waiting."
"About that." Galen started, steeling himself.
"No." The general cut the air with a hand. "No more discussion. No more arguments. This is happening whether you like it or not. The time for debate is over." His face had begun to turn red; a sure sign that he was in a bad temper.
"Then their blood will be on your hands, general." He snarled.
"Let me elucidate for you. This is my show, not yours. If you do your job, there will be no blood. I will not argue with you any further. You do this my way or not at all. If you don't like it, there's a shuttle that can take you offworld within the day. I'll even hail it myself for you."
That halted Galen's tirade before it had even started, beginning an awkward silence. Thankfully, it was interjected by another; Sergeant Marlow. The middle-aged man stepped up alongside Galen and set a firm hand on his shoulder.
"All the preparations have been made. We wait only on you to lead us, Starkiller." He gestured with an arm. "This way, if you please."
And, as Galen allowed himself to be led away, the sergeant leaned closer: "You would be wise not to push that man. His threat was not an empty one. He would send you back and gladly, too. He sees you as a complication he could do without."
"He's a fool."
Marlow snorted. "He's no fool. He's got enough victories under his belt to govern over the military forces on this planet and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Come on, we need to get this show on the road before we lose our opening."
The sergeant had assigned himself as Galen's unofficial advisor since he had arrived on Bandomeer – something that made the young Force-user slightly uncomfortable. He'd not heard it from the elder man, himself, but Galen had been informed that Marlow had once served as a member of Kota's team. They had yet to speak about it but Galen had seen the unspoken questions lingering in the man's weathered eyes. There were disapproving looks, too; as if Galen kept failing tests he wasn't even aware he was taking. Sooner or later Marlow was going to gather enough courage to voice his thoughts, but until then Galen was more than happy to let him wallow in his censorious mind.
Discussing Kota was definitely not at the top of his list of things to do whilst he was stationed here.
"Any changes to the operation?" Galen asked curtly.
"None."
"Why was I even brought here if no one is going to listen to what I have to say?"
"People do listen, but you're going about this all the wrong way. This needs to be a joint effort. You're here to lead the troops, not leave them in the dust whilst you handle everything yourself. It'll destroy what confidence these people have. You won't be here forever, Starkiller, and when you go, these soldiers need to feel capable of carrying on without a Jedi there to save the day."
"So what am I here for, exactly, if not to fix their problems?"
The man's eyebrows hiked. "What are you here for? You're here to inspire. To give them the hope that they need to win this fight. And the next one. And the one after that."
Galen had to forcefully hold back a bout of bitter laughter. Him? An inspiration to these people? Well if that's what they had wanted, they'd definitely got themselves the wrong 'Jedi'. He didn't want that sort of responsibility. He just wanted to get the job done and get out.
"Casualties have been few and far between – even before you got here." Marlow paused to deliberate and after a very long moment, he continued: "We're not all as helpless as you believe us to be. Look at me. I fought alongside—"
"—Don't." Galen warned. He didn't want to talk about the old, dead Jedi. Especially not now when he was in such a foul mood.
Marlow frowned and continued on doggedly. "You knew? You knew all this time and you never said anything?"
Silence.
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to talk about it."
"You were there when he died." It wasn't a question.
Galen made no response.
Ahead of them, a narrow path staggered down between a cleft in the valley. The stones there were a sickly yellow and under the glare of the setting sun they seemed even more foreboding than usual.
"I've watched you these past few weeks, watched how you've worked and behaved. How you've kept to yourself as much as possible. It needn't be like that, Starkiller. Stop fighting against us and work with us. You can't do everything by yourself. Sometimes you need to rely on others, you know? General Kota trusted his troops just as they trusted him. We didn't just rely on him to get us through. We weren't excess baggage. We pulled our weight, played our part - whatever you want to call it! The only reason he lived as long as he did was because he was part of a team. Because he chose to work with men like us and not with those damned clones."
His final sentence ignited a flame of fury and Galen rounded on him. "You're forgetting one thing. I'm not Kota."
Marlow, his chiseled face passive, stared back at him unblinking. "No, you're clearly not. But would it be so bad to learn a few lessons from a dead man?"
Galen's jaw clenched.
"What's your story, kid? Kota was your teacher, right? Your master? Did he teach you nothing of working with others?"
The question gave Galen cause for thought. Kota had been more a role model than a true teacher; a guide who had shown him his true path. But someone like Marlow wasn't about to understand the complexities of the Force and those who wielded it. He responded, only with: "The so-called 'others' tend to be liabilities."
Perhaps Marlow and the rest of the members in Kota's squad had been useful at times, but those with the old general on Selonia had all died. Even the damned pilot.
Marlow resigned himself to silence the rest of the way, falling back to walk in Galen's shadow. Later, perhaps Galen would feel badly about how he had spoken to the sergeant. Marlow had clearly been looking forward to working with a Jedi again and the man's disappointment was palpable. But he couldn't change who he was. He couldn't pretend that he was happy to have soldiers under his command, waiting to follow him to their possible deaths.
He couldn't be that man.
Thankfully, their arrival at their destination was enough to direct his thoughts back to the task at hand.
The soldiers were waiting for them in the shadow of an overhanging rock formation, hunkered down against the wall and covered in dust. Their clothes were so ingrained with it that they mingled with the landscape perfectly. A moment later and a great breath of wind blasted grit into their faces, suggesting that the extra measures to disguise themselves had not been planned.
Galen, steeling himself for what was to come, donned his curt professionalism and hailed a signal back to 'central command' to let them know that they were in position.
"All of you. Listen up." He got their attention with a quiet but stern voice. "You've already received orders from the general, but I have some orders of my own." He heard Marlow shift nervously at his side. "It's important we stay off the radar for as long as possible. No one is to fire a shot until I give the word. Once we're engaged, you'll keep your distance from the enemy and provide covering fire. You're all aware of our objective?"
They acknowledged.
There was a second team waiting for them on the east side of the mine, setting charges to cave in the main entrance tunnel (and escape route) for those attempting to signal for backup when Galen's team took out their only means of communication.
That 'east team' would also be in charge of taking out any Imperial forces deployed to check on the mine. That would be the long, tedious job that – thankfully – Galen wouldn't have to stay around for.
The elevator clanked noisily as it began to descend down into the mine and the team lapsed into silence.
The enslaved miners panicked at the sight of Galen and the soldiers moving stealthily down through the tunnels, cringing back against the rocks as if they hoped the stones might absorb them. Some tried to scramble away and those that did found themselves being dragged back by some unseen force and pinned to the walls.
The fear, however, soon gave way to a desperate hope as they realized that these men were not Imperials come to 'purge' the mine of its staff.
"Poor sods." One of the soldiers murmured. "Mining down here under Imp control."
Ahead of them the tunnel began to branch out and Galen waved them over. Automatically the team hustled forward, covering each of the tunnels with their blasters at the ready.
"Which way, sir?" The same gruff voice from before called out.
"Trial and error. Some of these will lead to dead ends." Galen's eyes flicked over the dimly lit tunnels. "Marlow, with me. The rest of you; keep an eye out for Imperial supervisors. Take them out as fast and silently as you can."
As the two of them moved further down the corridor, Marlow asked: "What do you want me to do sir?"
"We'll question the miners. See if we can get some straight answers from them."
"Should be easy enough with the others watching our backs for any sign of trouble." Marlow replied with a hint of smugness in his tone.
Galen ignored it.
"I'm looking forward to the moment when we prove you wrong, Starkiller."
"About what?"
"About us being liabilities."
The explosion was beautiful; artistic even. It bloomed intensely against the dark backdrop of space, hot flowers ripe for the picking. The heat of it. The smell of it. The sound of it. Combined together, the destruction was intoxicating and the apprentice rocked as he laughed.
"That'll teach them. Think they can ignore me, do they? I'll show them what happens when they ignore my warnings. They'll die. They'll all die. And then he'll die and I'll take back what he stole from me."
The klaxon blared anew and even far away from the damaged upper levels, the apprentice could hear more blast doors slamming shut – cutting off the flames to prevent the fire from spreading to further levels or reaching flammable substances. To protect those already dead inside.
Another explosion shook through the station and above his head the light emitters flickered and died. A second later and a back-up generator kicked in, restoring the emergency lighting and air circulation. Time was now of the essence. They would have to send someone. They could be forgiven for thinking that the comm. silence was just the result of a malfunction but failing power was something else entirely.
A shiver of anticipation ran through him as he stalked across the docking bay. His plan would succeed. The inferior clone would come and he would take back everything that had been taken from him. His pride. His honor. His worth. His destiny. And then Vader would accept him back and things would be as they should. He would become Vader's weapon once again and the galaxy would shudder in his wake.
The old shuttle hummed politely as he set foot on its deck again, moving back around to the cockpit and unfastening the broken door to allow passage. The Cerean had moved from his place by the main doorway, but throwing out his senses confirmed he was still close by; afraid and jittery. The alien had been only barely useful before but now, with his mind as it was, he was less than useless.
The dark clone took his seat and wasted no time planning on how best to take the lives of the Cerean scientist and the inferior clone. Slow and painful, he decided. He'd waited too long for it to be over in seconds. This was something that needed to be cherished.
"You should not stay here." His annoyingly familiar 'friend' murmured somewhere close to his ear. "Not if you want to live."
By now the clone had learned not to try and look directly at the robed man. There was never anyone there when he did. Instead he kept his face directed at the viewport and angled his eyes a little. Just at the edge of his vision he saw a dark shape leaning against the back of the co-pilot's seat.
The dark clone frowned. "What is your game?"
From the shadows of the man's hood, came the flash of white teeth. "Your end is near. The darkness is coming."
"What?"
"The darkness is coming."
The clone was on his feet but the robed figure was gone, leaving him only with the sound of his pounding heart. The darkness? Had he meant…Vader? He leaned forwards against the console and peered out through into open space. And then the scanners began to 'blip' and he demanded the Cerean show himself.
A few moments later and the scientist skulked fearfully into the cockpit. His eyes seemed hollow and the wrinkles set into his broad forehead had deepened considerably over the past few weeks. He dithered in the doorway, unwilling to come closer. But the gap was nothing. The clone could have been on him in the time it took to blink an eye.
The darkness is coming.
The clone punched a button to bring up a visual and there, sweeping towards them, was a ship emblazoned with the sign of the Empire. "How did they—?" The dark clone turned towards the door, his mind racing. He needed a new plan. A plan that didn't involve a premature meeting with Vader.
His furious yellow eyes snared the Cerean and amidst the chaos came the straggling threads of a hastily weaved plan. Triumphant, he allowed a smile to scrawl its way across his face. "I have one last task for you." And then his fingers were closing around the alien's tenuous throat, cutting off his fearful rebuke. Cutting off precious oxygen. He could feel the blood rushing through the arteries in his frail neck. Could feel the unbridled fear; all consuming and powerful.
His fingers tightened and, lifting the alien clean off of his feet, started back down the corridor until he was standing on the very edge of the loading ramp, holding him elevated. Alin's legs dangled helplessly as he tried to pry the fingers away from his neck. But it was useless. He continued to gape, his dilated eyes beginning to roll back in his head.
"This is where we say goodbye." The dark clone snarled.
The Cerean wheezed. "Are you going to kill me now?"
The clone smiled. "No." He said. "I'm not." And before the scientist even had a chance to look surprised, the clone flung him out onto the deck and activated the mechanism to close the ramp.
With any luck, when the Imperials arrived, they would believe him to be dead along with everyone else.
The co-ordinates for their hyperspace jump had not been accurate, but it had been close enough that the commanding officer could see a tiny pinpoint of light reflecting from the medical station hanging in space.
This assignment was still a bit of a mystery to the man, who had been diverted from what had started out as routine patrol. Now, it seemed, he and his ship were running errands for the Dark Lord himself. And, even though it should have been perceived as an honor, the commanding officer knew full well that he was treading on dangerous ground.
One wrong slip and Lord Vader would retire him from duty. Permanently.
They brought the ship in close, until the station loomed on their starboard side and the fiery blooms could be seen amongst the damaged wreck within. That was a bad sign and a murmur spread through the crew. Thankfully the docking bay was at the furthest point of the wreckage and that was where they needed to go to drop off their 'special' package.
The commander had no idea what was in the package he had collected and, at this point, he really didn't want to know. Any secret project of Vader's was bound to be something suitably horrible and the less he knew about it the better.
"Bring her down gently." He ordered, moving to speak to his crew. "We want to make this drop as quickly as possible. We do not want to give the Dark Lord any reason for complaint."
The small crew shuffled nervously at that and then the ship was turning slowly into the docking bay, the whirr of repulsorlifts slowing their descent as the landing gears unfurled from the ship's body.
The commander thumbed the switch of the intercom to transmit to all aboard the craft. "This is your commanding officer. We have arrived at our destination and will be leaving again at thirteen hundred hours. No one but the ground team is to leave the ship. I repeat: no one but the ground team is to leave the ship."
"Is it my imagination or are there…dead bodies out there?" The co-pilot whispered.
The commander lifted his eyes to glance out of the sweeping viewport. And sure enough, picked out by the dim light emitters were a litter of bodies. "Strange." He thought out loud. "We're nowhere near the fire."
"What could have done this, sir?"
"That's not our problem." Although the commander couldn't help but hope that this wasn't some kind of set-up. "Patch me through to the ground team. Let's make this quick."
To be continued...
Next update: 30th June