XV

The door closed behind Elisa Lekauf. Darth Vader followed her presence for a moment until she left the floor. He had not known what to expect when Captain Raivo mentioned Lekauf's wife had expressed interest in meeting him, but this was not it.

When Erv Lekauf "died" Vader had made several arrangements for his family. He had made sure the family needn't worry about the funeral or any other running costs. Lekauf himself had not had any specific requests, but Vader had offered anything the family might ever need that was within his power to do or give. Apart from contributing monetarily to Lekauf's family, he had only made his promise known to Mrs Lekauf. It was not the first time he supported a deceased service man's family, though never to this extent before. But Vader had always regarded Lekauf exceptional and Sidious was aware of it. Since then, to avoid further suspicion, he had extended similar promises to two other families during the past eight years.

He had expected Elisa Lekauf to finally have some special request. Holed up here on Coruscant kept him idle so meeting her was a welcome change from training himself or his master's underlings. Palpatine's spies were much more relaxed here on the capital and he could move with relative ease, though he would not attempt to contact anyone on Tatooine until he could be certain it could be done safely - and most certainly not while on Coruscant.

The little box Elisa Lekauf had brought to him was a mystery. Vader had severed all means for Erv Lekauf to contact him, and surely the man would realise he had done so for a reason. He could not imagine Lekauf sending a message like this, risking causing his wife more pain than he already had, unless it was urgent. It must have had something to do with Luke.

He still knew nothing about how and why Luke had been on Ebullient. He tried to keep any thoughts of his son at the back of his mind, though slowly but surely the uncertainty of his son's wellbeing ate him away. Something was not right, yet he could do nothing to even investigate it. Perhaps he would finally have some answers.

He was positive he had no spies on his tail today. Still, it might be a good idea to send someone to watch over Elisa Lekauf. Whether she lived or died did not matter to him, but it would matter a great deal to Erv Lekauf and Vader had promised his assistance and protection to his family in exchange for the man's services. It could be a useful exercise for his star student at Imperial Intelligence. She might find it beneath her, though Vader knew she would never voice such thoughts. If nothing else, at least being on Coruscant offered him a chance to personally oversee Brie's training every night.

His thoughts returned to the small box he still held in his hand. It did not have any kind of complex locking mechanism –just latches on both sides of the lid. The box itself had no writing on it and it was so light he could barely feel its weight. He did not believe himself in any danger. The suit would protect him from poisons or toxins and while an explosion could do severe damage to his hand it was replaceable. Since Erv was the likeliest sender, an assassination attempt was highly unlikely.

Darth Vader opened the box.

Inside was a single handheld holoprojector. There was nothing remarkable about it, and by the looks of it, it was a cheap brand sold in billions across the galaxy. He took it out and pressed play.

A poor-quality hologram of Rahm Kota on his palm had his heart filled with dread.

"Greetings, Lord Vader," Kota began. "It's a shame you couldn't make it the last time I invited you to meet me."

A scar ran across the man's face directly over what once was the bridge of his nose and his eyes –eyes that were no longer there. The Jedi was blind just as Starkiller had said he would be.

"I'll be more direct this time. I'm organising a new chance for us to meet, and I hope a little incentive will have you come yourself this time."

Kota's distorted image disappeared and in his place appeared a figure of a Human male on his knees. His arms were bound behind his back and a chain from his neck prevented him from straightening his back, having him hang his head down. The dread Vader had felt became an icy knife twisted in his gut when the boy lifted his face. A hateful expression twisted Luke's features as he trashed against his bonds like a captive animal, speaking soundless words.

The leather around Vader's free hand scrunched as the gloved hand curled into a fist and the chairs behind him rattled against the floor.

Kota's voice spoke over the image: "If you want to see your son again, follow my instructions."

The darkness of Luke's cell was nearly impenetrable. The boy lay chained to the floor, unmoving for hours at a time. If he stirred from his trance his eyes would search the room and he mumbled unintelligible words under his breath.

Obi-Wan Kenobi could do nothing but watch and plead for Luke to listen. If Luke would, perhaps Obi-Wan's words and presence alone could help him gain the focus he needed to help himself. It was all he could do. All he would do. Beyond his words, he could not interfere with the matters of the living, not now that he was part of the Force. It was not his place to interfere nor did he want to.

There was still a part of him, an echo of his living self, that did want to interfere, and it was that part that had awoken him and focused his consciousness to this boy when his pain and actions had rippled through the Force.

Luke had grown so much. How long had it been? It was difficult to say. For Obi-Wan, it may as well have been yesterday he promised to watch over the boy. Or it might have been a lifetime ago. Time seemed quite inconsequential now, as did the matters of the living unless he really focused his mind on it.

There was a desperate part of him that wanted to help Luke, the part of him that was still the conscious mind of Obi-Wan Kenobi. But the Force itself was passive and uncaring. The Force did not exist for one single form of life. Everything that happened was simply part of the course of nature. Part of its collective will. Obi-Wan accepted this and trusted the Force. He had to. He was part of that collective will despite having managed to keep his individuality.

"Luke..."

In the darkness, the yellowed eyes found his blue, shimmering form.

"Obi-Wan," Luke spat out his name like a curse. "What do you want from me?"

"I want to help you."

"I don't want your help," the boy snarled. "Go away!"

"Luke, please, it's not too late."

He wanted to believe that – despite what Luke had done. Luke had killed, but not out of the enjoyment of doing so or to gain power. Not like Darth Vader, not like his pupil. Luke had been in pain and confused. He had acted without intention. He had not yet fallen, not fully. Obi-Wan desperately needed to believe that. He had not been able to save Anakin. He could not fail his son, too.

"Go! I want nothing to do with you!"

"Luke, please," Obi-Wan begged. "Please listen. Please trust me. I want to help you."

"Trust you?" Luke let his head drop back and chuckled dryly. His voice was hoarse from thirst. "You tried to murder my father. You hurt him, you betrayed him. I will never trust you."

"Luke, you don't understand... He's not the man I trained. Your father was a good man–"

"My father is a good man."

There was nothing Obi-Wan could say to that without further twisting the knife in his heart. It hurt too much to try to argue about Anakin. Vader was not Anakin. The Anakin he knew, the Anakin he trained and raised was not Darth Vader. Darth Vader was a twisted, evil monster that somehow devoured the good man Obi-Wan once knew and loved.

There was likely nothing he could say to change Luke's mind about Darth Vader. The boy had clearly made up his mind. Only being faced with the reality in person, if even that, could open up his eyes to the truth.

He desperately wanted Luke to listen. Perhaps Rahm Kota could help him, but for that Obi-Wan needed for Luke to listen and act. Obi-Wan could not speak for him. He had never stopped to wonder why or how he knew, but he knew he could not speak to Master Kota nor make himself known to him.

Master Kota, along with every other Jedi, likely had known of Obi-Wan, the master of the Chosen One, but Obi-Wan could not recall ever having spoken to Kota in the past. He had known of him, he had heard of him rejecting the clones. He had thought it an arrogant decision at the time, but perhaps Kota had been wiser than the rest of them. He did not recall having seen his name on the ever-shrinking list of Jedi still at large. He did not recall whether or not Kota had had a Padawan, but if he did, then clearly the Padawan no longer lived.

Obi-Wan was even less familiar with Kazdan Paratus. At the Temple, he had had a reputation for building and tinkering with machines and droids at the Technical division. Anakin had known him.

But Master Paratus was likely beyond anyone's help. He certainly could not help Luke. Whatever it was he witnessed on the night Vader and his 501st Legion marched into the Temple had shaken him to his core and isolating himself on this planet had allowed that trauma to fester into madness. His presence had further sullied the Force on the already suffering planet. They fed on each other's misery.

Obi-Wan could not allow that imbalanced Force to further corrupt Luke, too.

Juno waited quite impatiently for Starkiller to return. Drumming her fingers against the table she checked the time again. It was late. Starkiller had never been out this late before. A part of her wondered worriedly if something might have happened to him, but she dismissed such thoughts quickly. A man who fought against an army of terrorists alone and won surely had nothing to worry about. Not even in a place like Nar Shaddaa where she did not feel comfortable walking alone in most areas after dark. Even with the Empire's presence, the moon was still a hub for crimes of all sorts. And though she once would have found the sight of stormtroopers patrolling the streets comforting, she now found herself looking down and hurrying past, fearing for the chance of someone recognising her. The Empire no longer made her feel safe.

Despite what Darth Vader made her go through having made her fearful in the presence of those she once would have thought her allies, Juno still did not believe in Starkiller's cause. What could they do, even with an army?

But she had nothing better to do with her days. If she did not help him, then what was the point of staying? She had nowhere to go and...she wanted to stay. She wanted to stay with Starkiller. She knew next to nothing of him, not even his real name, but she knew she liked him. He made her feel safe. During her imprisonment, she had often thought of him and mourned his death. She could barely believe they were both still alive and that everything that happened did in fact happen. Sometimes her old life felt like a dream. Other times she felt like today was a dream. Soon she would wake up on ISD Crucible and still be the captain of Black Eight Squadron.

Sighing Juno again checked the time and attempted to drum her fingers to some kind of rhythm. If only PROXY were here she would ask him if he knew why Starkiller was taking so long tonight, but the droid was likely somewhere on Starkiller's part of the ship. Starkiller had never said it was off-limits to her, but regardless she felt like it was and she did not want to invade his privacy more than she already had. She did not regret spying on him, but she did not want to do it again. She still was not sure what to think of everything she had heard and witnessed.

She tried not to think about it. It was better to keep her thoughts on the task at hand. The quest to find the remaining members of Kota's militia or perhaps even Kota himself. Or Skywalker. Starkiller had not shared much of his progress – if there even was progress, but she hoped he would find his brother. Perhaps her news tonight would help.

The sound of the main hatch opening snapped her from her thoughts and she sprung to her feet, determined to catch Starkiller before he could disappear into the training room.

"Starkiller," she called to get his attention just as he locked the entrance. He looked surprised to see her.

"Juno–"

"I've news."

"Really? Me, too, but you go first."

Juno grinned at him, suddenly very excited to finally get to share something hopefully useful with him.

"I've made contact with Kota's militia," she revealed. "Or what's left of it, anyway. They want to meet you."

She had worked on this for days but had decided to keep it to herself until she had something concrete to share. Besides, Starkiller was too blunt and grumpy to gain anyone's trust. It had taken forever to find someone who actually agreed to talk about the militia with her, but once she did and had been introduced to someone who had been part of it, it had simply been a matter of convincing them she was somewhat trustworthy.

"You can look me up," she had said to her contact. "My name is Juno Eclipse. I was the Captain of Black Eight Squadron, stationed on Star Destroyer Crucible. You'll find that I was officially executed for treason."

She did not agree with their methods, but she had to admit she sympathised with them. She did understand the militia a little better now. Having heard them speaking of what the Empire had done to their home planet... It hit a little too close to home. It was probably what ultimately won them over. Her confessing to having been on Callos and what had been done to the planet. What she had done to the planet.

Juno had not meant to let it slip and as soon as she did she thought she was done for. That at the very least they would hate her and turn her away if not outright kill her on the spot. But they didn't.

"You're not the only one who did something unspeakable in the name of the Empire before realising what they are. Monsters. Monsters, the whole lot of them."

It was easy and convenient to let them think this had been her treasonous awakening. From there it was just a matter of explaining how instead of being executed she was sent to a secret medical facility and how she was saved by a Jedi. She had not told them anything about Starkiller beyond that. Just that he sought to speak with whoever led the militia now. And the current leader had just agreed to it.

But Starkiller's response was not what she had expected.

"It'll have to wait."

"But– This could be Kota," she exclaimed.

Starkiller shook his head. "I don't think it is. I already have a lead on him."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" Juno retorted, hurt yet again by Starkiller's lack of communication. Not that she had been any better this time, but she had felt justified in her decision to wait until she had good news to share. Perhaps a little about that decision had been pettiness from her part, too.

"I had nothing concrete until today," he snapped, but immediately looked apologetic. "Sorry. But it's true. That was my news. I found evidence that Kota was here and that he took Skywalker with him. I don't think they are on Nar Shaddaa anymore. But I'll look into that tomorrow."

Juno bit her lip. "Fine," she accepted the explanation. "What do you want me to tell the militia?"

"Tell them I will still meet them. Something came up. It's none of their business."

"Maybe not, but they're suspicious of us. They don't fully trust me. It took a lot of convincing for them to agree to this."

"It can't be helped. Skywalker takes priority."

There was a hint of unease in his tone. He tried to hide it, but Juno knew he worried for his brother.

"Of course he does," she said as gently as she could. She hesitated a moment, then took Starkiller's hand between her's and looked into his surprised eyes.

"We'll find your brother," she said, squeezing his hand gently. He did not pull away.

"Thank you, Juno."

"Did you eat anything yet? You are usually back earlier."

"No, not yet." He sounded tired and distracted. "I met up with someone."

Juno did not pry. She supposed he must have thought of his brother, but in actuality, his thoughts lingered on Lyanna Kova. It did not bother Starkiller to kill. He had killed people all his life. It wasn't her death that bothered him, but the fact that it could have been avoided had he been more careful. Had he noticed Luke before they even left Tatooine, then he would have never gone missing in the first place. But Starkiller had been so preoccupied with being annoyed at the idea of a new pilot that he had missed Luke's presence.

It did not bother him to have killed Lyanna Kova, but it bothered him to know that her death was his fault. She was just somebody at the wrong place at the wrong time. One of many he had killed for the same reason, but this time it was definitely his fault. She had not deserved to die, but she had to. She may not have fully understood what she had seen, but she had seen way too much and it made her a possible threat to Luke's safety. Just one word to the wrong person could start a chain of events that would lead to Luke's identity. Starkiller could not risk it. He knew Darth Vader would not risk it.

So no, killing her did not bother him, he thought as he followed Juno to the galley. He just felt a little bad for her regardless.

The room that had begun as nearly impenetrably dark and lonely now pulsed with life. With the opposite of life. The ghosts would not leave him.

Luke felt as if he had walked among them for days. The ghostly apparitions surrounded him as far as he could see in this infinite darkness. Somewhere at the back of his mind he knew he was not walking. That he was still chained and thus either sat on his knees or lay on his side. He was not moving, but it felt like he walked in a sea of faceless ghosts.

He did not remember killing them apart from the Zabrak Jedi he spotted amongst the crowd sometimes. She looked frightened and fled. Sometimes he spotted the auburn of Mara Jade's hair, but she always faced the other way, always moved away from him and no matter how much he pursued, she would remain far away and be eventually swallowed up by the pale figures around them. But he kept searching. He knew nothing he saw was real, but it was better than feeling just hungry and thirsty all the time.

I'm sorry...

His groggy, hateful mind would come across something confused and scared. He could feel his brother's pain as if it were his own.

Galen... He would never find his brother. He would never find out what happened to him.

He tried to remain in a state of meditative trance as much as he could. Just like Galen had taught him. For the sake of his sanity and his survival, he knew he needed to preserve his energy and slow down everything within his body. But it was harder to do each passing day.

"Luke... Luke, look at me. Let me help you."

The blue aura blazed in the darkness, hurting his eyes. Obi-Wan Kenobi knelt by him, coaxing him to listen. He was worse than the sea of ghosts. They had been through this already.

"Please, Luke. Listen to me. Let me help you help yourself."

Luke dragged himself up on his knees, pulling against the chain. Why did his mind bring out his father's worst enemy to tempt him? "Go away!"

His words laced by the dark side lashed through the air like a whip, and the Jedi dispersed into glittering blue remnants that twinkled into nothingness.

Luke hung his head. He was alone. Galen was probably dead. Erv wasn't able to contact his father and even if he could no one knew where he was. Father would not come, he did not care enough. He would not risk everything for Luke. And Kota... He had not seen Kota for days. Surely the Jedi had left him to die. No one was coming for him and the same madness that had corrupted Kazdan Paratus would devour him. This planet was sick, the Force here was sick.

He jolted at a sudden, distant sound. A door at the far end of the corridor that led to his cell.

At first, Luke felt nothing but blind fear thinking the droids were back to drag him to his execution, but the knowledge of them being far more likely to bring food and water soon cleared his head enough for him to focus on that. He was so, so thirsty.

The sound of distant approaching footsteps further caught Luke's attention. No, not the droids. He narrowed his eyes, gaining some more focus. Kota was here.

Rahm's steps echoed in the empty corridors as he made his way down to the dungeons that Kazdan had so distastefully added to the replica he had built of the Jedi Temple. Rahm walked with confidence and steady steps despite the darkness around him —darkness he could no longer see. His eyes had been damaged beyond repair. He would never see again, not without expensive surgeries or cybernetics. He had not quite accepted the fact yet, but when the boy reeking of the dark side had walked into the cantina and stated he was Darth Vader's son, something akin to hope had awakened within him. There was still something he could do.

He had spent months barely living, drinking away the memories of the Jedi and the Force, of the Empire, of the fact that he could no longer see. Of the many lives he had sacrificed that had ultimately led to nothing. The young Vader changed that. His attack forced Rahm to embrace the Force again. Amazing what a month or so sober could do, though more than once he had wished he had something stronger than water to drink whilst trapped in this madhouse.

He had never known Kazdan Paratus well —hadn't really known him at all, truth to be told, but the man now hosting him and his prisoner was a far cry from a Jedi Master of any kind. Most of the time the man seemed to have no grasp of reality and Rahm cursed himself for taking Bail Organa's advice for an ally. Thankfully the senator had at least been able to help otherwise since then.

"Erv Lekauf," his prisoner had said. "Send your ransom note to him."

The boy had refused to elaborate. Lekauf was, as Rahm had learnt through Senator Organa, an ex-aide of Vader's. And dead for the past eight years.

"Trust me. Him being dead is why it'll get Vader's attention," the young Sith assassin had insisted. "Vader won't ignore it."

Rahm had had his doubts, but the boy had not lied. The message was delivered to Lekauf's widow and had indeed been seen by Darth Vader.

His steps came to a halt as he reached the correct door. He could feel his prisoner's presence behind it and knew his arrival had not gone unnoticed by the boy. His hand found the access panel, and the door opened.

"Your father denies your existence," Rahm announced from the doorway.

He heard the chain rattle against the floor. He could feel the boy tense at his words and for a moment they shared the silence. Dry chuckles emerged from the chamber he knew to be equally dark to the corridors he just walked through.

"Good," his captive growled. Days in the near pitch-black isolation at a time and three near executions later the boy seemed to be on the edge of madness as well. Dark Force gathered around him, making the room appear like a cold void to Rahm.

"I told you he wouldn't come for me," the boy said. He laughed, voice hoarse from thirst and the chain rattled again as the boy let himself fall back lying on the floor. "I'm nothing to him. I'm no use for you."

"I think he will," Rahm replied. He was not surprised by Vader's response, though it was a disappointment.

"He won't. You might as well kill me. No one is coming for me."

"Don't be so sure. He wouldn't have bothered answering at all if my message had no effect on him."

The boy attempted to huff in response, but it came out as dry, harrowing coughs. The cold, damp cell was doing no favours to his health. Rahm almost pitied him.

"Come, let's get you up. I'll take you to the baths. There'll be food, too."

The dusty one-room apartment was filled with dirty dishes and empty liquor bottles. Shattered glass covered the floor. It didn't seem like anyone had been there in a long time.

It had taken Starkiller a few days of searching within district H-865 of the lower levels before he found the now abandoned residence on a small alleyway. On the registry, it belonged to a man called Wess Kalma, a Togruta. No one seemed to miss him, but it was clear he had not used his ID card or accessed his finances since the day Kota's militia dropped the skyhook. Combing through the drawers led Starkiller to believe he had been an integral part of Kota's band of terrorists.

Perhaps they had crossed paths on the skyhook, he thought idly. Perhaps Kalma even met his end by Starkiller's hand. He could not tell. He had killed far too many men to pay attention to any individual.

No one remembered seeing anyone like Luke, but a neighbour confirmed a blind man had lived here after Starkiller made up a sob story of looking for his uncle. It appeared Kota had made it his new home for at least a little while. The neighbour had nothing good to say about him. Supposedly, the man would stumble back home late at night, so drunk he could barely stand, knocking over bins on street and sometimes trying the wrong door.

It gave Starkiller small satisfaction to know that though he had failed to kill the man, being blinded and robbed off of his purpose had made him this miserable. His satisfaction was greatly diminished by the fact that Kota most certainly had taken Luke.

The security holos from Kai Sen cantina had had no audio, but Lyanna Kova had explained to him what she had witnessed. Luke, that little fool, had walked in and drawn a lightsaber on Kota. Perhaps, based on the neighbour's tale, if it had been later at night Luke could have succeeded. What transpired was a short fight that led to Kota having every opportunity to kill Luke. Instead, he had taken the unconscious Luke with him.

Starkiller knelt on the floor by the bed. Closing his eyes he sought to calm his mind, but as always, calmness never came easy. Pressing his palm against the floor he breathed in deeply, seeking for the remnants of past in the Force around him. He could feel cold purpose and hate, layers and layers upon, built over years. Steps pacing the small room, calculating and planning. He got a feeling that Wess Kalma had been deeply involved in the militia.

The young assassin frowned in concentration, struggling to find the inner peace that could aid him here.

He felt deep guilt and shame, both feelings intimately familiar to the apprentice. Failure. Loneliness and self-loathing. Sadness. Empty bottles piling up on the table as Kota drank away his past.

And below all that –a faint remnant of a familiar presence.

"Luke."

Starkiller's eyes shot open, his concentration gone in an instant. But he knew for sure now. Luke had been here.

He closed his eyes again, trying to grasp onto the fleeting moment of Luke's presence that still lingered here, but the excitement of having felt it in the first place prevented him from concentrating. Yet he tried. He sat down, placed his hands on his knees and willed himself to relax. The line between his brows deepened as he breathed measured breaths, reaching out to the Force. He could feel the life around him on the streets, in the surrounding apartments, above and below. He frowned, shaking his head a little. The lives that existed now did not matter. He needed to feel the room, the air around him, the life that had been here.

For many long minutes, the apprentice sat still, growing more impatient and annoyed by each passing moment.

Starkiller let his chin fall to his chest as he sighed deeply in defeat. He could kneel here all day, but he knew he would not achieve the calmness and concentration required to be able to come across the ghost of Luke's presence. It was unlikely Kota had kept him here for long, so the echo he left behind was very weak at best. Starkiller would spend the time more wisely by finding out where Kota took Luke next.

Off-world, most likely. Starkiller would have done so if he were Kota. Besides, if the two were on the planet, Starkiller was certain by now he would have felt something.

He pondered his options, looking up the city map with his wrist comm. There were numerous spaceports just in this part of the planet alone, and nine within twenty-five-kilometre radius from Kalma's apartment. Three were larger commercial ones, receiving imports. One was exclusively Imperial. He could dismiss the four. That only left him with two options that were within walking distance, both of them within the area of his search for Kota. He hadn't yet been to either one of them, since he had focused on where Kota had stayed and what he had done since their encounter. He would look into the remaining three if these two yielded no results.

Out of the two spaceports, the other appeared considerably shadier than the other. One received regular passenger shuttles from Nal Hutta, the other was a privately held and handled small cargo. The latter seemed a likelier candidate for someone looking to get off-world discreetly.

Satisfied, Starkiller turned off the holo, stood up, and took one last look at the apartment. There was nothing there he needed.

"Never seen him."

Starkiller waved his arm closer frustratedly, the holo of Kota from Lyanna Kova's security recordings almost brushing the man's flat head.

"You sure? I'll pay well for anything that's helpful."

The Ithorian looked around them. There was no one within the earshot. There was a group of mechanics along with droids working on a ship, and even further into the hangar more droids and their overseer unloading cargo.

"How well?"

Starkiller fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he took out a credit chip and showed it to the Ithorian, the manager of the little spaceport. "This well. For a start."

He could see the greed in the man's eyes as clearly as he felt it through the Force.

"All right..." he said. "Come to my office. We'll discuss business."

Starkiller followed the man in silence, head slightly bent to keep his face safely concealed within his hood, away from any security cameras, and only pulled it down once seated at the man's cluttered desk in a small office with a view across the hangar.

The man took a seat opposite to him, so Starkiller slid the credit chip on the table and looked at him expectedly.

"I do recall seeing him," the man admitted, his odd stereo voice rumbling in the small room behind the translator collar's artificial voice translating his language to Huttese. "He was looking for a ride off-world."

"Did he find it?"

"Possibly," the Ithorian said, glancing at the credit chip on the table.

Starkiller kept his annoyance in check and dug into his pocketbook for more bribes. He would have much preferred to use a lightsaber, but leaving a trail of corpses was not always the best course of action. Nevertheless, wasting Lord Vader's funds on these sleazy people did not sit right with him.

The man collected the credits. "He was here, I can tell you that much."

"And? Where did he go?"

"I don't know."

Starkiller fought the urge to utilise a Force choke, opting to lean over the table menacingly instead. "Then you are no use to me."

"N-no, I know who can help you," the man stammered, all of his previous confidence gone in an instant. He was no Force-sensitive, but he clearly recognised the look on Starkiller's face and the danger he could find himself in if he played his cards wrong. Dangerous beings passed through Nar Shaddaa every day. "I saw him speaking with one of my men. He'll know more."

"Then get him here. I want to speak with him."

"He's not here yet, he works in the evening shift."

The annoyed line between Starkiller's eyes deepened, but he leant back in his chair, assuming a more relaxed pose. "Then I'll wait."

The Ithorian shifted uneasily. "It'll be another six hours before–"

"I'll wait," Starkiller repeated, though it did cross his mind to regret not having eaten lunch before coming here. The manager steepled his fingers nervously, glancing towards the door behind his unexpected guest.

"Uh, I suppose that's alright... I have a work to do though, I cannot–"

Starkiller threw more credits on the desk. "I won't bother you so long as I get the information I need."

"Well then," the Ithorian began as he stood up, "if you follow me I'll show you to the lobby–"

"This will do fine," Starkiller interrupted, not making a single move to remove himself from the manager's office.

The man stood awkwardly for a moment, not quite knowing what to do. Sighing in resignation he sat back down and buzzed an intercom on the desk.

"Naava. Tea. I have a client."

The man did not quite seem to know what to do with himself, but Starkiller closed his eyes before he could attempt to start any meaningless chitchat. He remained so until the sound of the door to the office opening prompted him to glance over his shoulder as a skimpily dressed pale blue Twi'lek holding a tray entered the room.

"Pardon the interruption," she said quietly. Starkiller's eyes followed as she approached and began serving them tea. She was clearly a slave.

"You like her?" the Ithorian asked with some newly found confidence. "Six hours is a long time to wait, you know, my friend. I can have her ease the passing of time. For a price, of course."

"No, thank you," Starkiller declined. He reached to take the cup she had served for her master, just in case, though it was unlikely they would try to poison him.

"You sure? She's very good with her hands and you do look tense – if you don't mind me saying so. Naava, give him a little taster."

Starkiller pulled away immediately as he felt the woman's hands on his shoulders, spilling the hot tea all over his knees and the desk.

"I said no. Do not touch me," he snarled.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. He regretted his harsh tone seeing her cowering, expecting some sort of punishment.

"Oh, the tea–", she realised. "Sir, please, let me– I'll clean it right away."

"Now look what you've done!" the manager exclaimed. "Stupid girl."

"She's done nothing wrong," Starkiller corrected him, leaning back so the woman could wipe the desk. "You were the one not listening to me."

"Honoured guest, I'm so sorry," she apologised softly as she poured him a new cup with shaking hands. She collected the tray and bowed deeply, telling them she would be back soon with nibbles. Starkiller kept his eyes on the Ithorian and sipped his tea.

Oh well. At least he would not go hungry after all.

It was early evening by the time Starkiller made his way back to Rogue Shadow. He was hungry again but exhilarated by what he had learnt. The long, boring wait in the small office had paid off. Though he still did not know for sure where Kota had gone, he did know which ship he had boarded and where it was bound at the time. He knew the ship down to its registration – the name, the model, the owner, its port of origin.

"Juno," he called as he entered. "We're leaving immediately."

"We are?" Juno's voice called from the galley. He did not wait, but she followed him to the cockpit where he had already awoken the ship's engines. "Any coordinates?"

"Soon, I need PROXY to check something first."

Juno pulled the headset as she took her seat. "I'm gonna need my co-pilot, ideally," she said as she began working the radio to contact the local tower.

"I'll get him," Starkiller agreed, leaving the pre-flight procedures to her. He found his companion from the training room as he knew he would. The sound of the door and the movement awoke the droid from its sleep state.

"Juno needs you to co-pilot."

"Ah, so we are finally leaving." PROXY sounded pleased.

"Yes. I have a lead on Kota." Starkiller turned to double-check the door behind him had closed. "Any news from Master?"

"He has made no contact."

Starkiller nodded. He did not know whether to be disappointed or relieved. He knew he would eventually have to come clean about Luke and he dreaded Master's reaction. There was absolutely no way to keep this hidden. If he did not tell Lord Vader, Lieutenant Lekauf eventually would report it. He probably had a report ready and waiting for the first opportunity to send it. Hopefully, Starkiller would find Luke safe and sound before that. He was getting closer, he could feel it.

"Here," he said, tapping at his wrist comm. "Take a look at this ship."

PROXY's photoreceptors flickered twice as he downloaded the information and processed it almost immediately.

"Shado Bukee, registered to Captain Cheerah Mawrahhee of Nal Hutta. Judging by its logged activity, it appears to operate a legitimate small cargo business within the Hutt Space. It regularly makes stops here. Based on its last logged data from yesterday, it is currently on Nar Haaska."

Starkiller nodded. That much he had heard from the spaceport's manager, apart from its current location. He'd been told Shado Bukee was due back in two days, but Starkiller could not wait for that long. If he failed to find it, he could always come back. He had promised the Ithorian manager more credits, should he be able to meet Mawrahhee without him being warned in advance.

"Then that's where we'll go."

Nar Haaska was not, by galactic standards, far from Nal Hutta and its infamous moon, though there were a lot of stars between them to avoid. The hyperlanes were major ones for this part of space, and though they did see a lot of traffic and it got crowded around the ideal jump points, the Rogue Shadow travelled the distance swiftly and smoothly.

The planet lay on the eastern edge of the Hutt Space, close to the Outer Rim. It was nowhere near as populous as Nar Shaddaa – a welcome change for both Juno and Starkiller. It was lovely to see some natural greenery and bodies of water, even if just from the viewport as they descended.

PROXY had the exact planetary coordinates to a spaceport located in the planet's capital where Shado Bukee should still remain. The planet was under the Empire's control, so Starkiller had some hope the spaceport kept their logs up to date.

It was barely early morning by local time as they landed not too far from the spaceport. Walking distance, though Starkiller still wished he had a speeder as he readied himself for the mission.

"Juno, can I borrow your blaster?"

She frowned. "Sure, but don't you have your own?"

"I just have the lightsabers and I'd prefer to not draw that much attention to myself if I need a weapon."

"You know how to use it, right?" Juno asked as he tucked her blaster inside his jacket to accompany the borrowed lightsabers.

"Of course," he smirked. He could tell she was only half teasing, though. "I may not be the best shot out there, but that's usually not an issue at close range."

"Does that happen often?"

"Sometimes. Lightsaber's not always the best option. Too distinctive."

Someone like the police officer on Nar Shaddaa could not be found dead with a lightsaber wound. He hadn't considered it beforehand, but what would he have done had she not carried her weapon? Then again, what woman walked alone on Nar Shaddaa without one? Regardless, he needed to make sure he would not be so careless again. Perhaps today he would not need a weapon at all.

The air in the city was stuffy with pollution. The streets were still mostly empty apart from groups of sleeping homeless people and a few shops preparing for opening. He walked past a bakery and though he had used the journey to eat and rest, the smell of baked goods made him hungry again. Maybe it would be open by the time he got back and he could surprise Juno with fresh bread.

The spaceport was not exactly open for business yet, but one ship was being unloaded when he arrived. He slipped through the entrance unnoticed by anyone living, though he was sure the security censors had noted his entry. The crew and droids unloading the cargo paid him no attention as he walked further in between parked vessels and durasteel crates of cargo. It wasn't much bigger than the one he had visited on Nar Shaddaa, but for Nar Haaska this may have been a major local trading hub.

He found what he was looking for at the very back of the area. Perhaps twice the size of Rogue Shadow, Shado Bukee was bulky and clearly seen its best days decades ago.

"Shado Bukee," Starkiller read the faded name amusedly. "Don't look very shado to me..."

Starkiller walked closer and then around in an attempt to find the main hatch. There was a large door at the back that looked like it opened the entire back of the ship for loading and within it a smaller looking ramp, but if its owner and potential crew stayed on the ship, they probably had a nicer place for themselves than the cargo hold.

Once he found it, he buzzed the comm impatiently.

It took many tries and several minutes until an annoyed voice finally spoke to him: "What the hell is your problem?! Go away, I've got a slot in four hours."

"Manta achuta," Starkiller greeted and promptly ignored him. "Are you Captain Cheerah Mawrahhee?"

"Yes, of course I am. Leave me be, I've paid to stay overnight."

"I'm not here for your slot or your payment. I was told you might be able to help me with some cargo."

There was a moment of silence before Mawrahhee asked: "Who told you?"

"Someone you gave a lift for from Nar Shaddaa several weeks ago. A blind man. With a boy."

"Do you have a name? I've given lifts to a lot of people..." There was hesitancy in the man's voice.

"Kota," Starkiller said. "Or he may have used the name Yi or Kalma. Look, I just want to talk. Hear me out and tell me your price. But not out here."

He was met with a long silence. Long enough for Starkiller to suspect he had been dismissed when suddenly loud bolts released somewhere within the door's frame and the door opened soundlessly. A large Human male with a bushy beard stood in front of him, wearing what appeared to be fuzzy slippers and a dressing gown.

"Well, come on in then," the man said.

Starkiller murmured his thanks and stepped inside. Mawrahhee regarded him, scratching his jawline somewhere within the grey beard. It seemed like all his hair had concentrated there, for he was bald and had no eyebrows.

He slammed a button, closing the door. "Hmph, why'd you have to come so bloody early?"

"My business can't wait and I had to be sure to catch you before you leave."

"Did your friend tell you to find me here?"

"No, I figured that out myself."

"Hmph," said the man and beckoned him to follow further into the ship's small living courters. It didn't look like there was a crew.

"Take a seat."

Starkiller did and watched as the man began preparing caf. He did not offer any for his unexpected guest. The table Starkiller was seated at was small and looked like it could use a good scrub.

"Your accent..." Mawrahhee spoke as he measured in the ground powder while the water began boiling. "You're not from around here or the civilised regions. Where are you from?"

"Tatooine," Starkiller replied. No use hiding it. He might have to kill the man.

Mawrahhee nodded. "Mos Eisley? Been there a few times. Long ago."

"I'm familiar with Mos Eisley," Starkiller allowed.

"Rough town."

"Yes."

No further words were exchanged until the caf was prepared. Starkiller tried to grasp a better understanding of the man. He could not quite tell if the man was...corrupt or just off-putting.

"So," the man began, seating himself across from Starkiller with his steaming mug of caf. "What was it that you needed?"

"Information."

That made the man instantly uncomfortable, though he hid it relatively well. "Hmph. You spoke of cargo."

"I lied."

"I don't deal in that business. I'm an honest entrepreneur."

Starkiller smirked. "Honest enough to take jobs from my blind friend."

It did not spark the kind of reaction Starkiller had hoped. A knowing smile spread on the man's lips. "Do you have...need for his cargo? I can help you with that."

There it was, that glint in his watery green eyes. Corrupt. Absolutely, positively corrupt.

"I'm not here to buy slaves," Starkiller spat at him, repulsed by the mere thought.

"Slaves? Hmph!" Mawrahhee laughed. His laughter was bellowing and possibly quite intimidating for someone who wasn't a Sith apprentice. "Who said anything about slaves?"

"Did he have other cargo, apart from the boy? I want to know where he took his cargo."

"Keep your hands where I can see them, boy," the man shouted an order, a blaster pulled from the folds of his gown now pointed squarely at Starkiller's chest.

Starkiller halted, hovering his hands above the table. "I was just going to offer you credits for his location."

"Hmph," huffed the man. "Hand over your pocketbook then. Slowly."

Starkiller did, careful to not let Juno's blaster or his lightsabers be seen just yet. He was not worried. So long as the man did not pull the trigger right now, he would have plenty of time to disarm the man later if needed.

He tossed the pocketbook onto the table and watched as Mawrahhee took it with his free hand, sliding out credit chip after another.

"I don't mind you keeping it all if you tell me what I came here for," Starkiller said, feeling the excited greed radiate from the man as he counted the many hundred, two hundred, and five hundred chips along with the scattered smaller denominations. "Where did he take the boy?"

Another "hmph" was all he got as the man kept glancing at him and collected the credits closer to himself. If he did not start talking soon, Starkiller would have to force the information out of him. Should it come to that, Starkiller hoped the man would not give in easily. He could use some practice. It had been a while he had properly interrogated anyone.

"I took him to Raxus Prime," Mawrahhee said. "I'll be keeping this. I need to replace an escape pod."

"Sure, keep it," Starkiller nonchalantly replied. He sensed no deception. "Did he say why Raxus Prime?"

The name sounded familiar, but he could not place it right now. He would look it up later. It had not been Shado Bukee's official destination that day.

"Hmph. We didn't chat."

"What about the boy? Did he say anything? How was he treated?"

Mawrahhee gave a slight shrug and stroked his beard. "Why? Do you want him? I can get you someone like him."

"No, thank you. Just answer the question."

Another "hmph" and a cough. "He was restrained is about as much as I can say."

"Then that's all I need to know," Starkiller said with a sharp nod. "I'll be taking my leave."

Starkiller reached slowly for the now empty pocketbook and when Mawrahhee made no move to stop him, took it back. Still keeping his movements slow, Starkiller stood up, the blaster still pointed at him, following his every move. He heard Mawrahhee follow behind him as he made his way back towards the entrance. He could feel tension rising as he walked through the narrow corridor. Mawrahhee had stopped.

He dropped the pocketbook still clutched in his hand and reached for Juno's blaster and a lightsaber. Spinning around his eyes registered the circular blue beam heading towards him. He fired the blaster and the blue energy of a stun round met with his lightsaber, dispersing around it and connecting with his arm and shoulder. The lightsaber dropped from his hand and Starkiller stumbled backward, dazed but not unconscious from the hit. Across the hall, Mawrahhee fell to the floor.

"Oh, kriff..."

Starkiller leant against the wall, the entirety of the right half of his upper body tingling numbly from the stun blast. Mawrahhee did not move.

Starkiller tucked the blaster away and reached to pick up his lightsaber. His right arm hung completely limp at his side.

"What the hell," he murmured under his breath. Was it too much to ask for one half-decent person? Then again, decent people did not agree to haul suspicious men with imprisoned kids as their cargo.

"Hmph," Starkiller huffed with a smirk, stepping over the man's corpse. He might as well collect back his credits now. The fallen pocketbook flew to his hand from the other side of the corridor and he returned to the lounge.

He was about to head back the way he came when on a whim he decided to take a look into the cargo hold. It was filled with crates, most of them large durasteel boxes stacked on top of each other. At the first glance, nothing looked suspicious. He found clothes straight from the factory, but hidden beneath were other boxes. He opened one and found hand grenades. Below them were blaster rifles. He couldn't be sure since so much time had passed, but they looked similar to those he had seen Kota's militia use. Perhaps Mawrahhee had dealt arms to them. Having a business relationship with Kota might explain why he had decided to stun Starkiller. Either that or Mawrahhee had hoped to sell him as a slave, Starkiller thought as he found a stack of shock collars.

His arm still did not move properly when he exited Shado Bukee through the cargo hold's ramp. He didn't bother closing it behind him.

The bakery was not open yet, but Starkiller waited at its window until it did, nursing his tingling arm while thinking of his next course of action. Would Kota still be on Raxus Prime?

He still could not recall why the name sounded vaguely familiar as he returned to Rogue Shadow. Juno, along with PROXY, was in the galley, but she leant against the wall with a pillow behind her head. She peered her eyes open as Starkiller walked in.

"I brought breakfast and some supplies."

Juno smiled tiredly. "Thank you. Did you find out anything?"

"Yes. He took Kota and Skywalker to Raxus Prime."

"That's where Lord Vader was going to send you," PROXY said.

The line between Starkiller's eyes deepened. "You're right. He said there was a Jedi Master there."

"Master Kazdan Paratus," PROXY confirmed.

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" Juno asked. "You wanted to find a Jedi to teach you. Kota might not agree to it after you destroyed his militia. I mean...surely he'll recognise you."

"Maybe... What do you know about him, PROXY?"

"Lord Vader did not give me the full mission brief, but according to old records," PROXY began as his frame shrunk and a hologram of an Aleena hid his features, "Master Paratus was known for building droids and machines. During the Clone Wars, he served as a General and studied captured Confederacy droids. He constructed his own mechanical troops and supported the Grand Army at the front lines by building and fixing droids and machinery. To increase his size and mobility, he designed himself extra arms."

The hologram lifted the said four, long mechanical arms worn on the man's back for emphasis.

"Master Paratus appears to have escaped the Jedi Temple when Order 66 was issued. His current whereabouts are officially unknown, though he is presumed dead."

"I think Vader called him mad," Starkiller recalled.

"I have no records of his mental state," PROXY said, switching off the hologram and unsteadily returning to his full height. "But he was well esteemed for his mechanical skill."

During PROXY's demonstration, Juno had turned on the galley's computer and projected the galactic map over the table to search for their destination. It highlighted an area in the galactic northeast.

"Tion cluster," Juno read from the screen and zoomed in. "Doesn't look like it'll be too difficult to reach."

She entered the location to the computer and directed the navcom to start calculating an approximate route. The final calculations would have to be done right before jumping to Hyperspace. She looked up at Starkiller. "Suppose breakfast will have to wait until we've made the jump. I'll get us off the planet. Come on, PROXY."

Starkiller watched her go with PROXY at her heel. He followed shortly and made his way to the training room instead. He didn't close the door so that Juno wouldn't feel like he was trying to avoid her. Igniting the two blue sabres he began moving through familiar Jar'kai exercises. His arm was almost entirely recovered by now, but in exchange he found himself anxious again.

Soon, Rogue Shadow lifted off.

It seemed like Luke was so close now, and Starkiller was scared he would be too late. That there would be nothing on Raxus Prime.

Kota and Paratus were Jedi, he reminded himself. Surely they would not harm Luke. But why had Kota taken Luke in the first place? The Jedi Code may have stopped him from killing Luke when he had the chance, but why not just leave him? Was Starkiller walking into a trap? Was Kota trying to lure him to Raxus Prime with Luke? And why? Did he want revenge? He must have known Luke had been searching for him. Was he trying to convert Luke?

His thoughts were interrupted by PROXY's voice. "–must speak with master. Don't make that jump yet."

"Wait, PROXY," he faintly heard Juno call from the cockpit. "What do you–"

Her voice was cut off by, presumably, the cockpit door closing. Starkiller halted his practice and took a firmer grip of his weapons as PROXY entered, shutting and locking the door behind him.

"Lord Vader demands to speak with you."