Disclaimer: I do not - and will not ever - own Star Wars: The Force Unleashed

Note: Firstly, a massive apology to the delay in this chapter. I was hoping it would only be a couple of days late but unfortunately getting our internet installed into our new place proved a lengthier process than planned. Then, when I finally got the internet running I realise that I can't find my keyboard anywhere and had to go out and buy a new one. In any case, I do hope it was worth the wait. A huge thank you to all of my supporters, including you wonderful people who take the time to review and those who have subscribed to this story! Huge credit must also go to Liisiko who takes the time to help me even during a busy schedule.

Enjoy!

CHAPTER 35 - Puppet

Location: Rogue Shadow / Armistice

He sat in the co-pilot chair, wrapping up his arm – the end of the bandage held between his teeth as he rearranged the folds of fabric around the wound.

Juno was staring out through the viewport, a line between her brows indicating that she was deep in thought. She spoke up just as he was tucking the edge of the bandage into place.

"What was it like in there?"

"He'd been—thorough." It was the nicest word he could think of for all the dead bodies lying piled in the hallways. She didn't need that kind of detail.

"Do you think he was looking for something?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. But maybe he wasn't intending to get our attention at all. Maybe he'd been after something in that hospital and he left because either it wasn't there or he had found it." She shook her head slowly.

"Like some sort of medical supplies?"

"Maybe. Think about how unhinged he could be by now. If he was denied something he'd not think twice about taking down anyone who was in his way."

"I don't know. Maybe."

"There's always the possibility that he died."

Galen's head whipped around at that.

"Well, think about it. Maybe he got in over his head. He got tired. Clumsy. They surrounded him or led him into a trap: pushed him out of an air lock!" She fell silent for a moment and then continued in a quieter tone of voice. "Or maybe he was wounded and he realized that he wouldn't be able to face you in that state."

"The senators should have told us about this sooner. Too many people died."

"But we rescued some," Juno reminded him, though the lives of a mere handful of people certainly weren't enough, not compared with all those who had died there. "And that walker has been permanently rendered out of action."

The walker…

"Where do you think that came from?" he asked.

"Maybe it came with the clone?"

He shook his head. "It was built by the Empire."

"But where would he have gotten hold of something like that? Unless…" Their eyes locked. "Unless Vader…"

"No." Galen cut her off. "Impossible. Vader wouldn't take him back, not after everything that has happened."

"He would if it benefited him in some way," Juno pressed on carefully.

"He failed. Vader doesn't accept failure."

They lapsed into a silence that remained strong until PROXY joined them in the cockpit; hovering just behind their chairs. "Master, some of the wounded civilians are in very bad shape. I've done all I can but I am not a medical droid."

"You did a good job, PROX. Leave them for now." Galen pushed himself up from his chair and turned back to Juno. "I'm going to need to meditate on this."

Juno looked up, concerned and thoughtful all at once. "Do you want to tell me about that? The ones you were having before?" She asked, remembering the short conversation they had had before he had set foot on the medical station. Talk of visions had darkened his mood, after all, and she could still remember how plagued he had been by the ones before; back when he had thought he would be responsible for Kota's death.

"Later," he said. "We'll talk later."

It was always later.

The ground rumbled beneath his feet and in the dark a hulking shape moved; its head turning so that he caught the light reflected in one of its monstrous eyes. And then the eye expanded and it was no longer the eye of a monster, but the shape of the Death Star; gleaming in the light of a neighboring sun. He saw the superlaser, primed and deadly. What he did not see was its target. He tried to turn so that he could but the vision held him fast, forbidding him to extend his line of vision. The intensity of the green light was blinding and yet he could not look away. And then the energy was released and the world collapsed, taking him with it.

He died a strange death in his vision, lost in burning, endless green light. Around him, for a split second, a chorus of voices cried out in fear and agony. Young and old. Male and female. Human and alien.

They were silenced at once and as darkness poured into his vision another voice filtered through into his head.

"You're my only hope…you're my only hope."

Galen pulled out of his vision as if surfacing from water, shaking and disorientated, gasping for breath.

He was in the training room aboard the Rogue Shadow, having taken advantage of the quiet now that their passengers had been taken down to the med bay upon arrival at the Armistice. He hadn't been able to relax enough to slip into meditation before that had happened and even then it had taken some time.

It had all been a waste in any case. The Death Star held no answers about the dark clone's whereabouts or his motivations. If he could just get better control of the farsight then he could direct his energies towards where he wanted instead of hoping for a strike of luck. Unfortunately, without a teacher, it was very unlikely that he would gain mastery over that skill anytime soon. If ever.

He left the ship behind after confirming that it was empty and navigated down the corridors in a somewhat dazed state. His vision played over and over in his head as he went; taunting him with its lack of clarity. The Death Star wasn't new but the cloaked monster was. He couldn't help but wonder if his visions did him more harm than good.

He was so lost in thought that he almost missed PROXY standing close by. "Ah, there you are, Master." The holodroid responded in his usual jovial tone. "I was beginning to think that you were not intending to leave the ship."

"So was I."

The droid began to given an account of what had happened since they had docked but Galen couldn't focus at all, his mind lost in the darkness of that vision.

"Did you hear him?" The new voice dragged Galen from his daze.

"Who didn't hear him? He was raving like a lunatic. I hope they've sedated him. Can you imagine the havoc he'd cause if he got out?"

"You think he might be dangerous?"

"I have no idea, but better to be safe than sorry."

The two men shouldered past on their way to their shifts and Galen paused to watch them go. "Who were they talking about, PROXY?"

"One of the survivors, Master. I was just informing you of the incident in fact."

"No one was ranting or raving the last time I saw them. Did something happen on the other ship?"

"It was a Cerean. The one they found on the docking bay upon their arrival. He permitted the use of his droids."

"Those assassin droids they were using to watch the door." Galen confirmed, his mind turning over the possibilities of this.

"Possibly, Master. I have no further information on them at this time. They are the prototypes for a design I am not familiar with."

"Where is he now, this Cerean?"

"Room 358c, deck 2. I can take you there if you like, Master."

He nodded. "Let's go."

The Cerean was sat upright in bed, his hands twisted amongst the bed sheets in a death grip. His whole body convulsed; perspiration beading on his sweeping brow, eyes fully dilated. He rocked back and forth slowly, muttering under his breath. No one held out much hope for getting any lucid answers from him. Not in a hurry, anyway.

"Can you tell us your name, sir?" A nurse asked in gentle tones, busying herself with folding sheets so as not to look at him directly.

"My name?" he asked dazedly.

"That's right," she smiled calmly.

"Who are you?"

"We've already been through this, sir. You're safe and sound. You're in the med bay of an Alliance ship. No harm will come to you here."

"Alliance? I don't—"

"All you need to know is that you are safe. The rest of the survivors who came here with you are just down the hall. Is there anyone you would like to see? Anyone you would like us to contact for you?"

"No. No, no, no. I do not deserve to be safe," he spluttered, looking on the verge of tears. "I do not deserve it."

"You were a victim of a terrible event."

"Of my own doing!" he cried, flailing his arms in despair. His eyes looked set to explode in his head. "I unleashed the monster!"

"Here, here, drink this."

"I set him free," the Cerean murmured.

"It's just water. Drink."

He took it in his shaking hands and pressed the rim to his cracked mouth. The nurse, shaking her head, turned away; moving across to the senator waiting on the far side of the room, watching silently.

"He is in a great deal of distress."

Mon Mothma frowned, tapping a finger against her pursed lips. "This questioning does not appear to be getting us anywhere." She spoke quietly. "It is too soon to push him. Let's take a break. We can resume later once he is better rested."

"I'm not sure this is going to be a quick fix, Senator," the nurse replied carefully. "He has suffered great trauma."

"He might be the only one who can help us understand what happened on that station. All we need is a name. If we know the Cerean's identity, we can go a long way to finding out exactly who he is and whether he is more involved in this."

The nurse hesitated. "I'll see what I can do."

In the room beyond, voices rose in irritation, distracting the pair from conversation.

"Just let me through," Galen argued; his voice raised. "I only want to talk to him."

"I'm sorry. That just isn't appropriate right now—sir! Sir, wait! Wait!"

Galen had pushed impatiently past the nurse – PROXY still following close at his heel – and had opened the door separating him from the Cerean survivor.

"What is the meaning of this?" Mon Mothma's voice snapped him to an abrupt halt.

"I have questions," Galen replied, refusing to be baited into conversation. "Ones that need answering."

"So do us all, Starkiller. You have done your duty; now allow us to do ours."

"You don't understand," he insisted. "This could be important."

"Why do you think I am standing here?" The senator replied. "Because I can assure you it is not for my enjoyment."

"Just one minute, that's all I ask." And then he turned from the senator and took a step towards the survivor.

He froze again before the senator could intervene.

The Cerean's eyes were wide with fear, his whole body held still; like some poor, terrified prey-beast. It was an emotion of petrifying standards; one that kept him rooted even though he looked as if his mind were screaming at him to get away. The room fell deathly silent – as if the crippling terror was infectious – and the air became stagnant.

It was the Cerean who broke the silence first.

A strangled, broken cry tore from the alien's throat: "No-oo. No it can't be. It can't!" And he was trying to retreat now, pressing back until he was against the wall, his body curled up defensively. The nurse rushed to his side in an attempt to pacify him but he would not be calmed. "Keep him away! Keep him away. You fools. You fools. He'll kill us all!"

And he was fighting away from the nurse's grip as the med bay staff swarmed over to remove Galen from the room. For once, he did as he was told, backing up so that they weren't forced to touch him.

"I think it would be for the best." A doctor advised him sternly, once the door was closed. "If you do not come in here again."

"You don't understand. He has information that I need," Galen insisted.

"And what makes you think he'll say anything to you?" The doctor replied, gesturing worriedly over to two armed patrolmen.

"This is too important for him to keep secret."

"Leave the questioning to the people whose job it is." And to the patrolmen he said: "Escort him out, if you please."

"Don't bother," Galen snapped. "I'll show myself out." He left the room behind, cursing angrily.

It was a short while before PROXY attempted to speak with him.

"From his reaction to you, Master, I think it is highly probably that the Cerean has been in the presence of the dark clone."

"A safe assumption," he growled. "So the question is; why isn't he dead?"

"There is always a chance to survive a disaster. Some species choose to call these unlikely occurrences 'miracles' I believe."

"I call it suspicious."

"Where are we going, Master?"

"To find Juno. If that alien won't talk to me then maybe he'll talk to her."

"I suspect that Mon Mothma intends to lead on the questioning, Master. She seemed quite adamant that you not interfere."

"Would you answer any of her questions?" Galen replied curtly. "Because I know I wouldn't."

"But that is because of your aversion to her, Master. The Cerean would not hold such views."

It took longer to find Juno than Galen would have liked but eventually he caught up with her discussing some sort of technical issue with two older pilots. He stepped up towards them and caught her eye.

"Captain. I need to talk to you for a moment. Something urgent has come up."

Her eyes instantly flooded with worry. "Okay, I'll be with you in just a moment." She turned to excuse herself from the conversation and a minute later she was shaking the hands of both pilots and moving to join Galen. They did not stop to speak but moved slowly out of the room and continued on up the corridor. PROXY, thoughtfully, lagged a few steps behind.

"Okay, tell me what's wrong."

"That Cerean survivor definitely met the dark clone." He wasn't one to waste time with a lead up.

"How do you know? Did you speak with him?"

"I tried to. When I went in Mon Mothma was in the middle of questioning him. She got in the way. But that doesn't matter. Even if I had been given a chance to speak with him, it wouldn't have made any difference. His reaction made that clear enough."

"Ah."

"He thought I was the dark clone."

Juno could hear the thin line of distress beneath the words. He'd clearly been shaken by what had happened. To be reminded that you look like the one you despise so much, to know that they could have walked the same path had things been different.

"So that confirms that the clone was there on the station."

"I need your help."

"You want me to question him for you, right? I'm not sure the senator will agree to either of us getting involved in this. We have too much emotional and personal attachment." She caught his look and hastily added: "I didn't say I wouldn't ask, Galen. I will. Just don't get your hopes up. Neither of us are in the senator's good books, if you remember, and she'll know that you sent me."

"I need you to ask him how he survived."

She tilted her head questioningly.

"If he saw the dark clone he must have been close by. The clone would have picked up on his fear and yet he survived. Doesn't that seem odd to you? Besides that, his reaction to me was—extreme. He knows something. I'm sure of it."

"Maybe he was left alive to pass on a message?"

He shook his head. "I have no idea. I just—we need to talk to him. If we can't do it legitimately then I'll come up with another way."

"Galen…" She warned.

"This is too important, Juno. Something is going on but I—I don't know what it is."

"Hey." She caught him by the wrist and forced him to face her, finally coming to a halt. PROXY came to a stop at a respectful distance. "Talk to me." She didn't want it to come out as an order, but it certainly did have the tone of one. "What's wrong? Is this something to do with these visions you were talking about?"

He pressed the heel of his palm against his temple and gave a low groan of weariness. "I can't make sense of it all. Maybe they're linked. Maybe they're not. I don't know." He trailed off, meeting her eyes and relenting. His shoulders sagged. "I see the Death Star in my visions."

"The—" She couldn't get the words out. They caught in her throat and choked her.

"Not like we remember it. It's complete. It's whole. In my vision it's targeting on something."

"Targeting on what?"

"I don't know," he replied, frustrated. "I can't see. Maybe a ship. Maybe an orbital base. Take your pick."

"What else do you see?"

"A desert. A monster in shadow. There are variations each time. But there's a voice. I think I should know it but I can't place it." He closed his eyes as if to try and rekindle the memory and bring it back into focus. "It says the same thing over and over. 'You're my only hope'. That's all it ever says."

"Who is the 'only hope'?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe it's you?"

He shook his head, his jaw set in a stern line. "No. I don't think it is."

"We'll figure it out," she promised him, setting a hand on his arm. "Perhaps once the Cerean has been questioned it'll all fall into place. Maybe he knows something about the Death Star."

"Which is why you need to be there, Juno. You might see something that the others don't."

"I'll do my best," she replied. "But I'm only Captain in name, now. To save face for the Alliance. My word won't have much standing."

"Convince them. They know you," he urged, his mouth twisting into a grim line. "They know that you're not volatile."

"Like you, you mean?" Juno smiled.

"Exactly."

"Will you keep trying with the meditation?" She asked quietly. "Perhaps there'll be some clarity."

"I hope so, because if not, I think something terrible is going to happen."

Footsteps rang on the floor and the pair of them looked up, stepping away from one another to a respectable distance.

And then Sia appeared.

"Oh! There you are! At last! I've been looking for you everywhere. Some old pilot told me you'd gone off to deal with something urgent." She paused then, arching a brow as she flicked her glance from one to the other; a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "Which I seem to have interrupted yet again." And then she broke into laughter at their expressions; one embarrassed and one annoyed. "I'm only teasing. Anyway, listen, I've got news." She strode over to them and set her hands up on their shoulders. "I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" Juno blinked. "To go where?"

"The details coming through are sketchy right now," Sia continued. "But word on the grapevine is that we're going after some sort of…battle plans."

"Battle plans? For what?"

Sia gave a loose shrug. "Who knows? I'm just looking forward to getting back in the air."

"When are you scheduled to leave?"

"The order is impending. I guess you can call this a goodbye."

Juno nodded hesitantly.

"Not a forever goodbye, but there's no telling where you'll be when this assignment is done or if I'll even return here. I'm just as likely to be shipped off elsewhere."

"Looks like things are starting to pick up," Juno replied.

"I think so, yes." Sia thrust out a hand at Galen and he looked at it somewhat warily before taking it. "Fight the good fight, Jedi."

He nodded stiffly.

"And Juno." Sia took Juno's hand then. "Stay safe." And she pulled the blonde pilot forward into a hug. Juno seemed to tense up a little at that, patting Sia awkwardly on the back.

"You too, Sia. Fly true."

Between the raging headache and the phantom's incessant laughing, the dark clone was struggling to pinpoint the Cerean's signal. The pain in his head was so intense that his vision was spotted with vibrant lights, making the readings difficult to see. His hands shook violently as he tried to work the dials.

"Do you think you can keep running?" The phantom mocked. "Do you think you can escape him? Make up for your failings? Be accepted back? You know that will not happen. You are as inferior as the one you chase. Perhaps more so."

"Shut up!" he snarled.

"You were called 'perfect' once. The scientist who made you was proud of what you were; his efforts finally rewarded with a creation that was mentally stable enough to carry out the work of the Emperor. You slaughtered the images of your original's friends with no hesitation. You passed every test. But something still went wrong. Madness is eating away at you; rotting your mind."

"If you don't shut up, I'm going to—"

"—Going to what?"

The dark clone whipped around to face him and lightning speared from his outstretched fingers. It lanced harmlessly through the robed figure's body and struck the far side of the cockpit, utterly destroying the displays where it hit.

"Careful, careful." The robed figure taunted. "If you break the ship that'll be the end for you."

The dark clone gripped the edge pf the console to try and keep his hands from shaking.

"What triggered it, I wonder? Was your 'superiority' only ever meant to be temporary? Last long enough until you'd completed your mission and fulfilled your 'destiny'? A disposable puppet?"

The dark clone curled his hands into fists and drove them down against the console as if to restrain himself from striking out again. His face was a picture of rage, the tendons in his neck cording from the strain of containing such anger.

Then, without warning, the phantom's laugh cut off and the brief silence was intruded by an incoming signal. The holo-display flared in response and suddenly Vader was in the cockpit with them, filling it with the sound of his mechanical breathing.

"M-master," the apprentice stuttered in shock. He probably would have dropped to his knees if he had not been sitting on the chair.

"You disappoint me," the Dark Lord replied; his voice as hard and cold as steel. "Did you really think you could hide?"

The dark clone didn't seem to hear the question. "I have tracked him, my Master. I have. He thought he could get away but I fooled him. I fooled him. I was wise. I was careful. I will succeed," his voice shook with fear and for a moment he was a boy again, alone and afraid in the dark bowels of an Imperial ship. "I will bring you his corpse, Master."

The phantom began to laugh again, hysterical and out of control.

"Be quiet!" The dark clone hissed. "Shut up!"

"Perhaps you do still have a use," Vader interrupted.

"Master?"

"Yes. There is still a place for you."

Juno was aware of the senator watching her, aware of the doctor's withdrawn expression and even more aware of Galen leaning against the wall just outside the room where he would be able to listen in on everything being said. One wrong word. One wrong move and she'd be out of there quicker than she could blink an eye.

She smiled, very faintly, at the Cerean and pulled up a chair.

He was lying in bed now, connected to tubes that funneled into various machines around him. He looked sunken and sallow and his eyes rolled as he asked: "Why aren't we dead?"

Juno drew in a shaky breath and hoped hat her voice wouldn't betray her nervousness. "You are safe. Or as safe as anyone can be in this time."

"But I saw—I saw—" His brow wrinkled deeply. "Am I going mad?"

"No. Your reaction is quite normal for one who has been through a traumatic experience," the doctor chimed in.

"We understand that you may not be up for questions," the senator continued. "But time is of the essence and the quicker we understand what happened at the station the quicker we can rectify it."

"You think I can give you anything worthwhile now?" He gave a burst of hysterical laughter.

"We think you know who is responsible," the senator replied.

"Oh, I know. I know. It was me. It was my fault. I was a fool and now everyone is dead."

"Your fault?" The senator asked.

"I just wanted to live," he exclaimed, "but at what cost? So many dead, but not me. Never me."

"You said this was your fault," the senator pressed.

"If a man releases a rancor to run rampage through a village, who is to blame? The rancor or the one who opened his cage?" He despaired. "I set the monster free."

"You're talking about Vader's apprentice. You were with him?"

"Him? Him? He's a monster. He killed so many people. So many."

"But why not you?" The senator urged; asking the question that had been on the tip of Juno's tongue.

"I don't know. I don't know. He left me for dead—took off in a hurry. I thought he was going to kill me. He came so close."

"Do you know why he left?"

"No." The Cerean looked deeply troubled, his anxiety escalating. "He was running, though. He kept talking to himself. Seeing things that weren't there."

"From who? Who was he running from?" Mon Mothma continued.

"A—a lord," he rasped, curling in on himself. "Lord Vader."

There was a deathly silence, and Juno could feel her heart come to a sudden halt. The Sith's name struck a chord of fear in her so deep and vibrant that she was ashamed of it. She felt like a coward.

"How do you know this?"

"I overheard him speaking. Speaking to himself. He was mad. Now I'm mad. Ha! Maybe it was contagious. Maybe you ought to all stay away."

"You're not mad," Juno replied quietly.

The Cerean looked up at her, his eyes suddenly lucid. "No?"

"No," she affirmed.

"I understand that this might be difficult for you," the senator continued, "But we really do need answers. Your knowledge could prevent another disaster. It could save countless lives."

"I only seem to bring harm, I'm afraid."

"You've made mistakes. I can understand that. But acknowledging your mistakes is one thing, trying to make up for them is another. This is your opportunity to do so."

"I don't know where he's gone if that's what you're asking. All I know is that he was a prisoner like me and I let him free. I let him free knowing that he would kill anyone in his way. I just didn't know that it would continue after we got out."

"Yes, he killed everyone except you," Mon Mothma mused sceptically.

"He said I could live if I proved useful. That's what he always said." His distress spiked and the doctor stepped forwards to intervene.

"We will need to take a short break so I can check on his medication."

"Very well." Mon Mothma frowned, looking as if she wanted to argue the matter. "We'll convene again in ten minutes. I'm sure the captain has other duties to attend to."

Juno frowned at the guarded dismissal. "Nothing that takes priority over this."

"I understand your concern, captain, but I have this well in hand."

"I may be able to identify links that might otherwise be missed." She was not going to back down without a fight – even if it was a well-mannered one.

"I understand, but too many questioners may confuse him and make the task more difficult than it needs to be. You can rest assured that any relevant information will inform your next course of action."

Juno felt as if she had pushed her luck as far as she could. "That would be appreciated," she replied, carefully; hoping she had curbed the irritation in her voice.

The woman swept out of the room and Juno hoped that Galen had gotten himself out of sight before she noticed him.

Only then did she speak to the Cerean.

"You're not mad. That man you saw this morning. You weren't imagining things." Her words were low and quick but he seemed to be listening intently. "The one you call a monster is his clone." She didn't want to get into the whole conversation about Galen also being one of those clones – it was far too complicated and completely unnecessary. "But we are going to stop him."

"Clone?" His voice was a disbelieving hiss. "A Force-user?"

She nodded grimly. "Yes."

"A clone…"

She watched him trying to process that information.

"So, that one I saw…?"

"He's on our side," Juno confirmed. "We've been searching for the mad clone for a while now. I'm sorry you got pulled into this."

He said nothing, his bloodshot eyes staring up at her. She hoped that he had believed her. Hoped that he would feel encouraged to give as many of the details as he could recall. And then Mon Mothma returned to hasten her out and his eyes dropped. Juno, without another word, stepped out of the room, doing her best not to feel affected by the senator's disapproval.

She found Galen later, in a mostly empty mess hall, brooding over an empty cup. She dropped into a seat across from him and watched him until he relented and lifted his eyes to look at her.

"I'm sorry."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. We know he was involved now."

"We also know that the clone was scared away from the station. He had meant to stay to close the trap once we arrived. And, if the Cerean is to be believed, Lord Vader was after him."

Galen's face was devoid of expression.

She reached across the table to touch his hand. "What are you thinking?"

"Something still doesn't feel right about this."

"What do you mean?"

"Why would the dark clone leave him alive? It doesn't make sense."

She shook her head. "He's losing his mind, Galen. For all we know, he might have thought the Cerean was dead. If Vader was after him, he would have panicked."

"No. He was left alive for a reason. You heard him. The clone told him that he'd be alive only for as long as he served a purpose."

"Galen—" She paused, not liking to question his instinct. Maybe he was right, but what if he was? There was no way to find out what the plan had been and she wasn't sure there had been one in the first place.

"He knew we would come eventually. He'd made sure of that." Something flashed in his eyes then; something furious and dark and horrified. He stood up so quickly his chair tipped up onto the floor, cracking sharply against metal. Those still lingering in the mess hall turned to look at him, but he didn't seem to notice.

"He wouldn't…" Galen's voice was tense. "He wouldn't." His eyes snapped up, snaring hers and the look in them filled her with a growing sense of dread.

"What do you—?"

"—A transmitter. Did anyone check for a transmitter?"

"I don't know, maybe—"

"We need to check," he snapped. "Now."

Thanks for your patience!

Next chapter is scheduled for: 18th August