Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars: The Force Unleashed

Note: I am back! And here is the next chapter for all you beautiful, patient people. Also, a note to clarify that there will now be 41 chapters and an additional epilogue. I was hoping to keep it to 40, but there was too much to fit into just the one last chapter so there we go. As always, updates on progress will be kept in my profile.

Also, just to save any confusion, this story is now being marked as an AU. I realise that Kota, officially, could not have died so early in the timeline but unfortunately my plan for this fanfic made it necessary to do so.

And, as always, thanks to everyone for your wonderful support. You make this all worth while. And, as always, a huge thank you to my friend and beta, Liisiko!

Chapter 39 - Complication

Location: The Armistice / Onderon

The send off was a quiet affair overshadowed by ill-omen. Even those who did not know of Galen's visions or Juno's concerns seemed to sense that this was not going to be a happy farewell. That perhaps this time it would be their last.

Leia, dressed in practical white clothes instead of the more formal senator garb, wore her hair twined into a neat braid that came just shy of her waist. She looked older than her years, her face was void of expression. Beside her stood Sia and for once, the flight officer looked deeply sorrowful. Eyes that usually shone with mirth were now dark.

There was no one else, save those two, to see the pair off. Mon Mothma was conveniently unavailable and her absence made it poignantly clear that the woman was unwilling to involve herself in the decision they were making. Juno didn't think that Leia was particularly happy about it either, but the young senator seemed to have reached the conclusion that there was no other way.

Galen risked being lost to them –even if he survived the ordeal– but at least this way their fragile alliance would not be completely broken.

"I can only advise caution," Leia began, "but you both already know the dangers of what you intend to do. You have seen darkness. We all have. But there is light also. And hope. Do not forget that. Carry it with you."

"Thank you for everything," Juno replied, her throat tight, "both of you."

Leia nodded stiffly. "Have all the preparations been made?"

"The course is set and the ship is ready, Senator Organa," PROXY chimed in, his voice seemingly unable to take on anything other than a jovial tone. "The coordinates and ETA have been uploaded to your datapad."

"This is a difficult task you take on. A foolish one, perhaps," Leia continued. "Be on your guard. This is a trap of their making and you are walking into it alone."

Alone. No reinforcements. No senator backing. Leia might have been a strong and worthy senator but without agreement from Mon Mothma and Garm Bel Iblis, her full support could never be given.

"The Empire hasn't killed you yet so why is everyone acting like you're already dead?" Sia blurted suddenly, taking the blonde captain's arm and gripping it tightly. "They'll fail this time, too. They always do."

Neither Galen nor Juno replied to that. Thankfully, Sia either didn't want a response or hadn't expected one.

"Take care of each other, okay?" she continued.

"We will."

The women shared a short embrace before Sia turned to Galen who had, so far, remained silent. His serious eyes reflected a strange uncertainty as she regarded him.

"And you," the flight officer continued, directing her words at him. "Don't go doing anything too stupid."

There was a momentary pause which was broken when Sia gave a small grin and held out her hand. Galen took it – with less hesitancy than he had before. But, just as he began to pull away, she gripped him by the elbow and leaned forward to murmur something to him.

For a second he seemed to freeze, but then the moment passed and the droid was urging them to make haste if they were to remain on schedule.

It was a short farewell but it was all they would get.

"What did she say to you?" Juno asked him, much later, with the streams of stars rushing by.

He leaned back in his chair and said: "Don't let me be the only one who remembers, Galen."

A few hours into the jump saw Juno idly flicking through the info on their destination, looking without truly seeing. The words and images across the display failed to hold her interest over the more pressing concern of the dangers that lay ahead. After half an hour she gave up, realizing just how little she had absorbed.

The hum of the ship seemed obnoxiously loud in her ears and so did the creak of PROXY's limbs as he worked on monitoring the ship's status and the progress of their journey. She had checked the co-ordinates five times already, though there had never been any need. Somehow numbers were easier to concentrate on than words when she was stressed.

Numbers were easy. Unchanging facts. Never biased. Reliable.

And then she thought of Galen, going through the motions of preparation, and knew that she had to do something to help.

She thought back to the moment when the encryption code had finally been broken; an extract from a speech inlaid with the co-ordinates that they required. Galen had snapped at the staff for stalling in front of Mon Mothma. The woman had been stiff-shouldered and shrewd. Even so, she had given no word of dispute when Leia intervened to act as conciliator. Perhaps, Juno thought, the older woman secretly hoped that the mission would fail. Then they would be dead and she could express her deep regret that no one had heeded her wise counsel. Her position would be strengthened as a result.

Forcing herself to concentrate she filed back to the beginning of the search results and started again.

"Onderon," she read aloud, rubbing her hands fiercely over her face. Concentrate.

Apparently, Onderon had the reputation of being a dangerous, untamed planet with a sordid history to match. Compiled of great open plains, unforgiving mountain ranges and deadly jungles, it seemed that the people who lived there had adapted in similarly savage ways in order to survive.

She desperately sought the records for some reason as to why this location had been chosen but failed to come up with any strong theories. There had to have been a reason, though. Neither Vader nor the Emperor would have chosen this spot at random. It was a wild planet. Perhaps – like Felucia – it could be affected by the dark energies that could sway the battle in their favor.

Sighing deeply, she leaned back in her seat to glance out through the viewport just as they lurched out of hyperspace.

The steely, grey-green planet had probably never looked as ominous as it did that day. The colors seemed muted – unlike the vivid blues of Bestine IV – and a number of tropical storms seemed to be churning their way across the surface, one frighteningly close to their drop-off point. Juno, with PROXY's help, made some quick recalculations – plotting a new course far enough away form the storm that the ship would not be risked.

When she next looked up from her work she found Galen standing behind her chair, leaning over her to stare through the viewport. His expression was unreadable.

He was dressed in a dusky grey tunic of roughspun wool – cut off at the knee – and worn over a long-sleeved white shirt left unlaced at the throat. He had never taken to wearing the deep-sleeved robes or heavy cloaks that the Jedi and Sith had been known for wearing. She noticed, too, that the insignia of the Alliance – fashioned after his own family's crest – had been sewn into the front of the garb where an officer's pips would have been.

She smiled sadly. "Are you ready?"

He nodded and she rose to face him.

"We've had to change the course," she continued, finding safety in talking about technicalities. "The closest storm is approaching from the west. We can't get as close as I would have liked but by my calculations the ETA will only be extended by ten point three minutes. I've got PROXY working on predicting the—"

"—Juno," he interrupted her sharply and then she was being crushed up against him, his arms constricting tightly about her. She felt his breath; warm in her hair.

I will not cry, she urged herself firmly, biting her bottom lip hard. She hadn't fallen apart in front of him last time and she didn't plan to on this occasion either. But this time was harder. After all they had been through and after the elation of having him return to her from the dead...

What were the odds of it happening a second time?

She squeezed him tight around the middle and pressed her face into the crook of his shoulder, breathing in the warm and strangely homey scent of the woolen tunic he wore. She could have stayed like that forever.

"I love you," she croaked, hating herself for how weak her voice sounded.

"I know," he replied, his voice soft. "I love you, too."

"I won't leave you. Please don't ask me to."

"You know I have to," he continued gently, "he'll kill you if he gets the chance. You've got to believe that, Juno. He views you as a weakness and he'll want to rid himself of that."

"I do believe you," she replied. "I do." That didn't mean she was happy to up and leave him to his fate.

"Juno," his voice was so low that she had to strain her ears to hear him, "don't let Sia be the only one who remembers."

She forced back a sob, biting even harder on her lip; willing her burning eyes to keep the tears at bay. "I can't do it, Galen."

"Yes you can." He drew her away from him then, shaking her gently by the shoulders. "You're not going to be beaten by this."

"And what about you?" She felt her emotion reach a new height; anger flickering beneath her fears. "Are you going to be beaten by this?"

"My vision—"

"—Forget the vision! Have you ever thought that visions might not be set in stone? That they might be misinterpreted? Or something that can be changed?" She realized her voice was taking on a desperate – and almost angry – edge.

He looked away. "Sooner or later Obi Wan Kenobi is going to be the Alliance's only hope."

"But that could be for a number of different reasons," Juno argued. "You don't know what knowledge or skills he might have." She took heart from the loosening of the frown on Galen's face. "I won't let you die. Not again. It's time to end this battle once and for all. Not for the Alliance but for you."

He opened his mouth to respond but suddenly she didn't want to talk anymore. Didn't want this exchange to end in a tearful argument. She reached up and drew him into a kiss; hard and passionate. And then she was back in his arms, treasuring and despairing every touch and cursing herself for her weakness.

And then the ship's console bleeped, indicating the preparation for descent, startling her out of his arms and back into her seat. Her fingers rapped across the display with harder force than strictly necessary and she kept her head averted in case her expression betrayed her emotions. "Beginning descent," she informed, her throat constricted with unshed tears. She couldn't think about 'what ifs' now, because if she did she might find herself turning the ship around.

Besides, she argued silently, I'm not going to leave him.

The ship banked, fleet and beautiful, and the atmosphere burned bright around them.

She could feel Galen standing over her. Sensed his desperate search for the right words to express himself. His extended silence told her that he couldn't find them. Galen always had been one for staying silent rather than attempting to throw around clumsy sentences. She was glad of that now. Any attempt he might have made at consoling her would have probably sent her over the edge.

In the end he chose to set a hand on her shoulder. It was a small gesture but, strangely, it was enough.

The ripples of orange and red parted to give them a closer look of the storm-ravaged landscape; the turbulence throwing the ship roughly from side to side. They had underestimated the strength of the storm and the ship was thrashed by rain as Juno turned tail and headed to calmer skies. "You'd best get into position. Our drop zone is coming up." She tried to keep her voice calm and professional. "We'll do this on the first pass." She didn't want to circle too much in case she gave away Galen's position. "Be careful out there. I'm getting strong wind readings."

The tropical storm was a great, swirling vortex tinged with metallic-yellow and veined through with lightning. Its heaving, swollen mass had been trapped by the natural basins in the landscape and from their angle, looked like a thrashing monster desperate to escape from its pit.

"Juno," Galen's voice was louder this time. Firmer, too. "You don't need to worry. I'm stronger than I was. Stronger than him. You will see me again."

"I believe in you," she said.

"We both do, Master," PROXY added.

"Get as far away from here as you can," he said. Their eyes met, fleetingly, and then he was gone and she braced herself for the inevitable. Her finger trembled as it hovered over the switch that operated the loading ramp and she closed her eyes as she activated it. And, in an attempt to keep herself occupied, she adjusted their course for a low, straight sweep and linked to Galen's signal. It flared onto the radar with a rhythmic chime; clear and strong. He needed no prompt to know when they had reached the drop off point. A few moments later and his signal was plummeting at an alarming rate, down towards the jungle below.

And that was that. He was gone.

"Are you well, Captain?" the gangly droid asked.

Juno forcibly had to relax her hands, realizing how hard her nails had been digging into her palms. She was clearly losing her nerve. Perhaps she wasn't cut out for this anymore.

"I'm fine, PROXY." She slowed the ship's trajectory and swiveled to look at him. "There's been a change of plans. Galen's going to need your help."

"How can I be of assistance?"

"Your holo-capabilities are still intact, I take it?" It seemed a long time since she had last seen him adopt another appearance.

"My Mimetic Combat Processor is still functional."

"Good. Listen carefully, PROXY. Here's what I need you to do."

She wasn't going to let him fight this one alone.

Above the coming storm, the sky was aglow with orange and red. The dark clone could not remember ever seeing anything quite like it. Pure, natural energy; unstoppable and fierce. He could feel its ferocity in the growing winds and the tang of electricity in the air. It was intoxicating – so much so that he was finding it hard to tear his eyes away.

For the hundredth time he turned back to the strange stone construct that would be the meeting place for him and his inferior 'brother'. The stone had been worn smooth by the passing of time; now mostly green from moss and plant life.

"The key to your salvation lies within."

Vader's voice urged him on and he went back to work, using the Force to drag the large, moss encrusted boulders away from the entrance of the stone tomb. At least, he assumed it was a tomb. What other construct would be built so deep into the ground, so far from civilization? Maybe it was the resting place of some long dead Sith Lord. Perhaps his corpse lay within, draped in rotted finery, his skeletal fingers still grasping the hilt of his ancient lightsaber.

There was a dark energy within, he could sense that much. It seemed to want to draw him in, forcing him to back away when he felt the temptation rise. Not yet, he thought. Not yet.

He stepped back even then to glance around for any clue as to what lay within. The only decorative features remaining seemed to be two huge, stone monsters carved nearby. They stood vigilant with their teeth laid bare and watched him with cold, lichen-covered eyes. He wasn't sure why but they put a strange sense of unease in him.

"I have no need to fear stone jaws," he laughed quietly to himself, nervous.

"Stone? No. Flesh and blood, though…" The sudden words made him jump and he whirled to see the familiar shape of his persistent companion.

"Ah, I wondered when you would be back," the clone replied, feigning amicability.

"It is nice to know that you missed me," the phantom replied.

"I have no time for you."

"You can no more get rid of me than you can your own reflection."

"Reflection? So what are you?" the clone snapped. "A ghost of some failed clone? You weren't here just a moment ago."

"We've been over this before," the phantom replied. "Your mind is failing you."

"Who are you?!"

"I am no one. I am everyone." And with that he drew back his robe at last – for the clone could not remember him having done so before – and a thousand faces flashed across the visage that was revealed. Old and young. Some unknown. Some familiar. Some he knew with more depth than he would have liked. He spied his own face amongst the many the phantom wore, with blood-shot eyes and waxy skin. He saw an older man, scarred and blind. Then there was an older man who resembled him so closely that it made him irrationally afraid. And then a woman. The woman. Blonde hair. Warm, blue eyes. A smile that seemed to reach into him and fill the hollow in his chest.

He lashed out with a sudden fury and the phantom dissipated like mist in sunlight.

Alone again, the dark clone turned back to his work.

Above, the storm churned closer.

Galen landed lightly; the Force dispersing as he drew himself upright; a hand on his lightsaber.

The jungle seemed to tremble in the wake of the approaching storm and, as Galen moved towards the specified co-ordinates, he could sense a strange darkness – like the edge of a knife touched against the back of his neck.

He lifted a forearm to push some vines aside and picked his way carefully down a rugged path created by wildlife rather than man. The undergrowth was all sharp thorns and dark, seductive flowers; beautiful but likely poisonous.

His senses were alive and on edge, feeling out across the expanse to brush against hidden life forms. One – a hunting predator – turned towards him but the sound of his lightsaber activating gave it reason to falter and he pressed on before it decided to change its mind and pursue.

The sound of the storm was obscured by the huge, closely-knit trees, giving its approach an eerie echo.

For the first time in his life, Galen didn't want to rush into a confrontation. He wanted to conserve his energy and not waste it on speed or fending off the local wildlife. He intended to end this battle as quickly as possible; throwing every ounce of energy he had straight at the dark clone. There would be no more running. No more backing down at the last moment. It had all come down to this moment and he wasn't going to let it slip through his fingers again.

Unusually, Juno had not attempted communication since his leaving the ship. He wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad sign. She'd have alerted him if there was any trouble brewing, and yet, her silence nagged at him. He was still angry at himself over how they had parted and the way words had failed him. But what more could he have said? He had told her that she would see him again and even that had been hard. What if he didn't? What if he'd just made a promise that would soon be broken?

He was tapping the com-link, apprehensively, when a sudden wave of dark power washed over him, freezing the blood in his veins and drawing him to a sudden halt. The nearby tree was suddenly a welcome friend as he leaned against it for support, waiting for the light-headedness to recede.

There was something wrong.

The energy felt wrong.

Grasping at his head to try and settle its spinning, he staggered ever onwards, bracing himself against each tree until he had focused enough Force energy to keep the pulsing aura of darkness at bay.

His instincts tried to warn him away but he pressed on regardless until – at last – he emerged into a graveyard of trees. The broken stumps were covered in huge, spongy, black fungi and were draped with crawling vines, all barbed and dangerous. At its center, amongst the dead trees, was a ruin of crumbling stone. It looked to have been a tower once – maybe one that had risen above the tree line. Now, however, most of those huge slabs had crumbled and fallen; consumed by the native lichen. The smell of decomposing leaves settled thickly in Galen's lungs, making breathing oddly difficult.

Igniting his saber, the weapon sang as he flipped it into the ever-familiar reverse grip. He didn't need to see the dark clone to know that he was already there. And, as if sensing his thoughts, he appeared from behind the rubble. The dark clone's fevered, red eyes seemed to burn into him with a horrible eagerness. Galen could not help but think this foe little more than a mad, flesh-hungry beast. The only difference was that this beast could wield a lightsaber.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't come," the clone said, chuckling darkly beneath his breath. "But Master said you would and he is never wrong."

"Never?" Galen tried to keep his tone unaffected. "Vader has been wrong before. You know that."

"He only pretends to be wrong when it suits the plan." The dark clone laughed again, his face twisting. "Are you ready to face me?"

Galen shifted into a defensive stance.

"Ah good. Though I think this will be easy. I was hoping not to be disappointed." He jerked his hand up and a huge boulder rose into the air, hanging there as if on a thread. Galen knew what was going to happen before it did and readied himself just as the two ton stone came hurtling towards him. Going against his initial instinct to roll out of harm's way he called up the Force and pushed back, sending a blast of energy straight at the projectile. The great slab of stone exploded, scattering across the clearing in large, dusty chunks, sending a clear message: he wasn't going to hold back.

Oddly, the aura of dark energy seemed to deepen, as if feeding off the battle.

The dark clone was scowling – clearly not expecting such a show of power – his hands creeping to the sabers holstered in the loops of his belt.

Galen charged.

The dust clung to the sweat on his skin as he burst through the cloud left by the exploding rock, the blue saber humming as it twisted upwards through the air. It connected against the dark clone's red saber with an angry hiss, sending him staggering backwards and giving Galen room to press the attack. Kota's blade ignited as he ran, swinging up and around to take the clone across the ribs. But the dark clone turned and the two pairs of sabers clashed, burning wild ribbons into the air.

Twice, Galen switched fighting styles in an attempt to be unpredictable; using techniques that his mad 'brother' might not have been so inclined to learn or use. But each time the dark clone evaded him, moving and reacting quicker.

And, ever present, was the strange dark aura that pulsed in his head and snatched at his focus whenever he let his guard down.

Gritting his teeth, Galen dropped his offence and feinted to the left, baiting the dark clone into his next attack. He fell into it immediately and Galen's saber came up; the teeth to his trap. The blade clipped across the inside of the clone's arm and forced him into a hasty retreat.

"You're eager." The clone's teeth clenched as he countered the move, the merged light from the sabers stained across his face. "This will be fun."

And the clone shoved forwards, refusing to give any ground. Pitiful and weak he might look with his tattered garb and gaunt face, but the strange, dark energy seemed to be giving him strength. Their blades locked. Galen pushed against him but the clone was immovable, his feet set, his arms taut.

"What's wrong?" the dark clone gloated. "You seem distracted."

He seemed distracted because he was. Even still, he had hoped that, outwardly, he wouldn't have given away the effect that the dark forces were having on him.

Galen retaliated immediately, wrenching both of his blades in opposing directions. The sabers screeched as they pulled apart, spitting sparks. The clone came at him with a sweeping strike that whirred above his head as he ducked and closed in again. The blue blade in Galen's hand pivoted so fast that it almost took off the clone's arm at the elbow.

And then they were slashing, wheeling, spinning, the sound of the sabers wild in Galen's ears. Each sharp connection rang down the length of his arms until his bones ached and he was forced to let up. The dark clone seemed frenzied, slashing without refrain, his saber cutting jagged lines. Sweat ran down his face in rivulets and yet his eyes were aflame with bloodlust. If he was tired, he seemed to be hiding it well enough.

Galen momentarily relented his attack, giving the clone ground as he reached out with the Force to avoid tripping over debris. The dark energy still thrummed in his head, driven sharply away as the dark clone lunged. Their blades bounced off of one another with such force that the pair of them were driven apart, momentarily startled at the equality of their strength. Galen parried the dark clone's next attack, side-stepped to avoid the one that followed and then braced himself for whatever came next. The angering clone, now on slightly higher ground, brought both sabers down over his head. The full force of those blades slammed into Galen's block, bowing his back and testing the strength in his arms.

Instinctively, Galen pushed back, putting the force of the effort into his legs and shoulders—

—and the dark clone flipped forwards with the support of the blades, landing on his feet so that the pair were back to back. Galen pivoted to safety, lashing out behind him as he went, hoping to land a hit. But the clone was quick on the mark, pivoting to slap the mismatched sabers away.

Letting Kota's blade die, Galen wrenched the power of the Force up through the ground, bringing with it a shower of stones and thorns and scattering them like rain against his adversary. They collided against the dark clone's hastily constructed shield and ricocheted off.

And then Galen was there again, pressing the attack, trying to find a crack in the dark clone's defenses. The sabers flew at nigh-untraceable speeds and then the clone was ducking beneath his crosscut; his shoulder ramming hard into Galen's chest. The thorny ground rushed towards his back, driving the air from his lungs as he tried to turn the fall into a roll that would bring him back to his feet. His blades followed the motion, saving him from mortal injury as the clone tried to follow up the successful strike.

He drew on the Force, felt it flow through him, and sent a blast of energy straight at the clone who braced himself for the impact and let it wash over him.

Something was wrong. Galen could feel it. The dark clone had driven himself to lunacy and yet his strength and speed seemed not to have been affected at all. There was a dark taint in the air; a darkness that did not belong to the clone's own Force signature. Something else lying just beneath it, using it as a smokescreen. He could feel it when he wasn't trying to keep it out; crawling beneath his skin, stealing warmth and scattering his concentration.

Vader?

The sudden thought distracted him just as the clone advanced again. Galen lifted his offhand to deflect the attack – but too slow – and the saber grazed his knuckles, leaving them raw. The searing wound sent his pain receptors into overdrive, bringing him sharply back into focus, outraged at his own idiocy.

The anger felt momentarily invigorating, and he retaliated with a flurry of sharp, accurate strikes, though all - save one glancing blow - was deflected.

The ground shook under their feet as lightning ripped the sky apart and Galen span, striking so fast that it almost wrenched the weapon from the dark clone's hand.

Thunder crashed around them as they stood poised, locked into defensive stances, each daring the other to make the first move. Slowly, Galen flexed his burned hand and was rewarded with a fresh swell of agony that settled into a lingering throb.

Blinking sweat out of his eyes, Galen advanced again, attempting a complicated combination of short, sharp swings partnered with a number of sudden side-steps. But the air felt more oppressive than before and his lungs were short of breath. He moved slower than planned and the dark clone evaded him easily, laughing as he did so.

"What is that?" Galen gasped out.

The dark clone threw back his head and laughed. "You sense my great power? My Master gave me the key to unlocking it." Then he lunged again.

Galen sucked in a lungful of air and jerked sharply to the side to avoid a downward strike from his foe. His wrist flicked around – deadly fast – to slash the dark clone through the ribs only to find him turning the momentum of his downward slash into a tumble that saw him safely out of reach.

The ground shook again, so violently that a few more stone slabs toppled from the broken tower to smash against the ground. And a noise – not unlike that of thunder – rumbled up from the mouth of the ancient ruin.

"That's not your power," Galen spat.

They had woken something deep beneath the earth; a sleeping shadow coiled in the dark. Perhaps it had been in hibernation for hundreds of years, leeching off of the dark energies that flooded the landscape surrounding of its dwelling. Or maybe it was the source of that darkness. Either way, however long it had been there, one thing was for certain: it knew they were there.

The dark clone came at him again and Galen caught the attack on the edge of Kota's blade, pressing back.

"Did you know about this?" Galen demanded as the pervasive aura of darkness grew stronger still. He felt a sudden bout of nausea and struggled to maintain his composure.

"About what?" the dark clone's grin was wild as he leaned into Galen's defense, their blades spitting furiously.

"The creature." The creature from his vision.

A second roar ripped from the entrance, sweeping over them with the force of a tidal wave. They broke apart again, swinging their lightsabers with a dazzling flourish – almost perfectly mirroring one another.

"Afraid of the local wildlife?" the dark clone retorted, still looking greatly amused.

Galen gritted his teeth against his immediate rebuke, realizing that it was true. He was afraid. Afraid and angry and cold. It felt as if a pit of ice had opened up in his chest. "You fool," he hissed at last. "Can't you sense it?"

"Yes," the dark clone breathed the word with a delighted hiss. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"You truly are mad."

"What have I to fear from the darkness, brother? I am one with the darkness. You can't 'corrupt' what has already been corrupted."

Something shifted in the black and, buffeted by the rising winds, Galen could not seem to take his eyes off of it.

The edge of the storm reached them, tossing the trees from side to side in a deafening cacophony. And, out of the darkness – partially obscured by the haze of rain – came two heavy, clawed hands. They gripped at either side of the entrance and almost wrenched the tower apart as it levered its body forwards and into sight.

A cold sweat crawled down Galen's back.

The beast was all hard, sinewy muscle and cruel barbs with a sweeping crest and slathering mouth. It was perhaps shorter than an average rancor, but Galen guessed it weighed far more. Its limbs were thick and sturdy and its skin like armor; all horns and scale. It may have been black in color, but the storm above reflected off of its body, casting it with a ruddy brown hue.

It roared again and its massive jaws extended wide, the curved tusks and half a dozen rows of teeth glinting; sharp and dangerous.

Dark energy exuded from its hulking body and Galen, instinctively, backed away. Beside him – only a few paces away – he couldn't help but notice that the dark clone's smile had faltered. Galen wasn't sure whether to be pleased about that or not.

"Let me guess," Galen called out dryly, sounding much calmer than he felt, "Vader left out a few essential details?"

The huge creature growled and took a slow step forwards; rain battering against its armored head as it turned to focus in on them. A thick ooze of saliva ran unbroken from its gaping maw to the ground. It hungered.

Not able to take his eyes off of it, Galen fumbled for the com-link. "Juno," he murmured. "There's been a complication."

Oh ho! We do love complications!

To be continued...

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