Chapter 48

Believe

"I'm telling you, and I won't say it again," the hologram of Celia huffed with an air of desperation far detached from her normally calm state as she threw back her dark hood to reveal her face to the Vice Admiral, "get out of there. Right now."

"I have my orders, and I intend to carry them out," Krieg replied stubbornly as he stood alone with his hands gathered behind his back in one of the communications rooms of his flagship, the Desolate. "You have no idea what I've been through in dragging this ailing fleet of mine through the Nanth'ri Route after Karath bumbled and faltered in his attacks once again. I can't even leave a holding detachment on this system – that's just how much my force has dwindled from its original strength. It's all or nothing, and I will hold this world as per my instructions."

Unwilling to accept his answer, she argued further. "To hell with those orders, you need to evacuate! Do you honestly think that Malak would kill you when he himself knows all too well about the circumstances that led to this current situation? Whether he likes it or not, you are the best fleet commander in the ranks of the entire Sith forces. Nobody can replace you, so get out of there before you're cut off and surrounded!"

"…" He refused her request without uttering a word. Instead, he stared at her wordlessly until, soon enough, both of them were glaring into one another's eyes, silently daring the other to back down and fold.

Finally, Celia was the first to break, her scornful gaze softening into pleading eyes as she whispered. "Tommy…you know what the Republic will do to you – or any of us for that matter – if they capture you alive. You know what the penalty for high treason is. Please. Do this for me."

His steely heart moved at last by his little sister calling him by that old nickname from their childhood, he responded. "I'll consider it. It's quickly proving to be an impossible task to stay here, with partisans and criminals sabotaging their own planet's infrastructure and shipyards in their efforts to hinder us. What new intel from the main fleet moving on Commenor?"

After letting out a sigh of relief upon realizing that her pleas had broken through his stubborn exterior, Celia continued. "Karath plans to engage in a full assault on Commenor, which will begin in two days. He has contacted the fleet detachment orbiting Manaan, issuing a partial withdrawal order to reinforce his drive towards Commenor. Predictably, our scouts reported that the Republic has done the same, with several of their vessels making the hyperspace jump away from Manaan."

"What about the Republic forces that stand between my contingent and the main fleet? Can we break through if we opt to fight our way out?"

"Our spies say that the Republic garrison that's been sitting tight on Rendili has steadily grown; it looks like they're waiting to counter any offensive you may launch. The outlying world of Bellassa, on the other hand, is far more sparsely defended. They're probably treating it as more of an outpost."

"Understood. I'll brief my commanders and issue my orders within two hours. Vice Admiral Krieg out."

"Thomas, wait. There's something you should know," she raised her hand, just as her big brother was about to end the transmission.

"I'm listening."

"It's been five days since I've taken up my position as you told me to, and in that time, I've made a very interesting discovery."

Thomas narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "I highly doubt that. There is no way that the crew of the Ebon Hawk has reached your destination."

"No, it's not them, but I assure you, this new target is one we should take a keen interest in. Or, rather, Malak will be eager to see how things play out with this one. But just between the two of us, you're the first person I'm sharing this information with so far."

"I don't recall discussing with you, or giving you any instructions regarding, any other persons. Just who is it?"

Celia gave a devilish grin. "Oh, you should have a seat to hear this. I promise you, it'll be very interesting…"

-o-

Sitting in solitude atop a bed with her arms wrapped around her legs, the eleven year-old Mission stared blankly at the wall clock which ticked by at an agonizingly slow speed. The dim lightbulb of the sparsely decorated bedroom in the Hidden Bek base was virtually on its last legs, flickering ominously.

Finally, it died, drowning her in shadow as she sank her head low, her thoughts fixed on the one person she thought would always be there for her. No longer.

The door creaked open, slowly filling the room with the light emanating from the corridor as a Twi'lek woman stepped in, speaking to her in a hushed tone, but making her disapproval clear. "Mission? Mission, what are you doing here? I told you this room is no longer being used!"

"But it's Griff's room," she dully replied, not having the courage to look up. "He'll be back. I'm sure of it."

Zaerdra sighed, shaking her head while making her way to the side of the bed. "You keep telling yourself that, but do you honestly believe it? Do you?"

"…"

She sighed, then reached out to gently pat the child on the shoulder. "That's what I thought. Come on, let's get you back to your room. It's way past your bedtime."

With fatigue starting to take over her, Mission yawned and took Zaerdra's hand. She winced when the lights of the corridor stung her eyes, reminding her of the day many years ago when she first set foot on Taris after stowing away on a cargo ship. Despite Mission's melancholy state, Zaerdra didn't seem to show too much sympathy to her – rather, it was the opposite, as she shepherded her forward at a pace that was faster than she wished.

Once they arrived in Mission's room, Zaerdra flicked the light switch and sat her down on the bed. "Come on, let's get that thing off of you," she said, tapping her finger against the child's headpiece. After Mission had undone the chin strap for her, she struggled slightly to remove the rest before placing it down on the bedside table. "We ought to find you a new one. That thing's getting too small for you, real fast."

"Mmm…," she mumbled as she fiddled with her hands, still feeling lost in an endless ocean of doubt.

"Mission," Zaerdra said, sitting next to and putting an arm around the small child, "I know how you feel. I've been through the same experience as you when I was seven years old. But I'm telling you for your own sake – you need to snap out of it. Not next week, or even tomorrow. Now."

"What…what do I do?" she looked up, all her fears and anxieties laid bare before Zaerdra's piercing purple eyes.

"I'm not going to mince words with you despite your age. Life is going to be harsh, made even worse by the fact that you're a young Twi'lek girl, and there will be no hiding from that once you're out there alone someday. I'm sure you've already picked up on it, but women of our species are treated like…commodities. If you're not careful, if you don't learn how to properly defend yourself, then that's what's going to happen on worlds like this."

A tinge of fear struck the young one, her pupils dilating with panic. "I don't want that. I want to be strong, like you!"

"Then I'll teach you, starting tomorrow. It'll be tough, tougher than anything you've experienced so far. But still, you'll benefit from it. You're going to become better than me in every way: smarter, braver, more charismatic. Not to mention far more beautiful, which I can already tell is going to happen naturally." She smiled and reached out, patting Mission on the cheek. "I'm confident that one day, you might become the head of this little gang we have here. But even if you decide not to take up that charge, I want you to promise me that you'll make something of yourself in this world."

"I will," Mission replied, firmly grasping onto Zaerdra's hand. "I promise."

-o-

Drawing awake, Mission was greeted not by the sensation of the warm, sleek hand of her former mentor, but a large furry paw. Dazed, nauseous and lost, her eyes fluttered open while half-expecting to see Zaalbar greet her and tell her that everything was one long, drawn-out nightmare. Instead, she saw the face of another Wookiee stranger with soft eyes that peered back at her. The shorter fur, leaner stature and red robes worn on the torso indicated to Mission that it was a female, judging from others of her kind encountered in the village above.

"She is awake, Nat'uuk!" the Wookiee turned her head and called out in her native tongue to a companion who was busy organizing food and water provisions and packing them away into rucksacks.

"Feel free to take her to the Chieftain yourself, then," he replied with a distinctively disinterested tone while continuing his work. "I don't wish to see the outcome for myself, given what happened last time we took a wandering prisoner."

"He wouldn't. She is just a child, and she does not have the looks of someone who would mean us harm. I feel it."

"Ugh," Mission groaned as she sat up, her hand flying from the Wookiee's hold and reaching out to raise her right upper leg to ease the tension in her calf muscle which immediately flared up in pain. Having been exposed to the dark and biting cold during the frightening fall through the Shadowlands, she was surprised to find herself snuggled underneath a warm blanket of bantha fur and hide inside a lit-up tent, with the pleasant scent of cooking meat wafting in from the outside. "Where…where am I?"

"Impossible to say, as we are constantly on the move, place to place," the female replied in Shyriiwook, then exhaled and shook her head. "But what am I saying? Chances are, you probably don't even understand me. Most outsiders don't."

"I do," she nodded. "Believe me, I do. My name's Mission, by the way. Mission Vao."

"Kuriiima is my name," she said with a warm smile, then pointed at Mission's leg. "You were very fortunate. You bear wounds inflicted on you by asyyyriaks, and it's a wonder that one so young as you managed to survive the descent. The others and I were amazed to find you alive and unconscious a few miles away from here; we thought for certain that you would've been eaten by the forest beasts, given how far you've come into the Shadowlands."

Setting aside the blanket and pulling the bottom of the right leg of her trousers up, Mission was surprised to see no visible signs of blood upon the three layers of bandages wrapped around her skin. "Th-thank you, but," she said, looking up at Kuriiima, "what happened to my leg? I thought it'd be all bloodied and gashed and stuff. Last thing I remember was being slashed right in the calf by some sharp claws."

"It was. You had numerous cuts on various parts of your body, but that was the most grievous wound of all. You were in fact at risk of bleeding out, but I and a few others convinced the Chieftain to allow us to treat your wounds with the limited supply of kolto we carry with us."

"Gee, thanks…again. You saved me. I never expected that something like this would happen. I thought for sure that you would've shot me on sight if you saw me wandering around the forest."

"Believe me, that's what a few among us suggested," Kuriiima answered bluntly. "There were some who thought it would be best and safest if we killed you out of mercy where you lay and left your body to the wilds for fear that you were a spy. Some wanted to bind you and interrogate whatever information they could out of you and make their judgement of you afterwards. Others like me didn't want to be so quick to condemn you, and instead saw you as just a lost child, for we thought it was strange that one so small and young was journeying alone in the Shadowlands. In the end, the Chieftain decided in our favor, after much pleading on our part. He will hear your case before he makes his decision."

"Would you look at that? I owe you my life, that's for sure. Wouldn't be the first time I said that to a Wookiee."

"Is that true?" Kuriiima looked at her with curious eyes. "Who was that, if I may ask?"

She paused for a moment, her mind racing through a thousand different potential outcomes as his name stayed still at the tip of her tongue. Then, looking around her, she noticed that her rucksack, weapons and equipment she was wearing on her were all missing, presumably taken by the Wookiees for inspection. Among those contents was none other than Zaalbar's wood carving with his mother's face painted onto it by his father – something that would undoubtedly be recognizable by many Wookiees who would lay their eyes upon it.

To hell with it. There's nothing left to do.

"Zaalbar. His name is Zaalbar."

Kuriiima's eyes drew wide in shock and her breathing came to a stop, and so did Nat'uuk's rummaging as he dropped everything in his hands and looked at Mission blankly.

"Zaalbar?" Kuriiima sighed. "So…he's come with you, then. Many of us wouldn't believe it. He's on Kashyyyk?"

"He is," Mission said. "He's being held captive by Chuundar. I need your help to free him."

Although her Wookiee tender did not respond with words, Mission could well and truly see the impact left by her words. Although the tinge of fear from hearing of Zaalbar's imprisonment drew a frown on Kuriiima's face, her eyes suddenly sparked with an overwhelming sense of hope that refused to die out.

"You must come with me, quickly," she said, gently tugging at Mission's shoulder. "The Chieftain wanted to speak with you as soon as you woke. You must tell him what you just said."

"A-alright," Mission nodded, her head beginning to ache from the sudden rush of activity while her body was still begging for proper rest. "Just let me get up…" Her face pouted up the moment she bent her knee and placed her foot flat on the ground to stand, the pain becoming excruciating and her legs threatening to buckle.

Life is hard, Mission. Full of suffering. But you have to get through it, day by day. You have to.

Stirred by the memory of Zaerdra's lessons, she willed herself to press on one step at a time, helped along by Kuriiima who supported her with a steady hand.

Upon exiting the tent, Mission quickly felt overwhelmed by the starkly grim and austere atmosphere of the camp. As fierce as they might be in their own right, the Wookiees dwelling in the brightly lit and Czerka-dominated village of Rwookrrorro above now seemed more like domesticated dogs when compared to the dire wolves who were condemned by their own kind to wander the Shadowlands.

She nervously looked away when her eyes met that of a warrior who was sharpening his hunting dagger against a whetstone, a blood-soaked cloth lying by his feet next to the devoured remains of a cooked beast that belonged to the very same species that had almost ended her life. Another group of Wookiees looked over at her as she walked past them alongside Kuriiima, growling amongst themselves in an obvious sign of disgruntlement. And high in the branches of the great wroshyr trees, illuminated by the fires of the camp below, Wookiee sentries dutifully watched their surroundings from their posts, keeping alert for any sign of intruders.

At last, Kuriiima brought Mission before a Wookiee who sat alone on a log, his back turned against the fire which was slowly dying behind him. He was hunched over, his head pointing downwards while he had his hands gathered together in front of him, and didn't stir even when approached.

"Chieftain," Kuriiima said as the Wookiees slowly began to gather around them, "she is here. I have brought her to you."

The leader slowly rose to his feet and approached Mission, his dreary yet powerful strides filling Mission with a sense of terror that no other Wookiee had ever done so before – even Chuundar himself was not capable of evoking such a feeling. His striking dark eyes, even when they appeared to be half-closed from weariness, held an enduring sense of strength behind them, and his richly colored brown fur bore a striking resemblance to that of her best friend.

Although all Wookiees seemed gargantuan in height compared to most species, this Chieftain was taller still, easily towering above Mission while he stood right in front of her, wordlessly subduing her in spirit as she instinctively backed away until she could properly look at him in the face.

"H-hello, Chieftain," she stammered, utterly clueless about anything regarding the etiquette on Kashyyyk as she hazarded a guess, opting for a small courteous bow of her head. "My name is Mission Vao. I'm…pleased to meet you."

He didn't reply, instead looking over at Kuriiima who added further. "She understands Shyriiwook, Chieftain. Ask her what you will."

Although the mere presence of Mission in his camp clearly flared up his temper, the Chieftain did what was necessary, his mellow and resonant voice carrying throughout the camp as he spoke. "I am Freyyr, rightful Chieftain of Rwookrrorro. You will answer my questions."

"Of…of course!" Mission at once obeyed, her natural sense of curiosity and rebelliousness subdued without a hush by Freyyr's commanding presence.

"First, you will tell me what your business is on Kashyyyk. You will then tell me who you are associated with, and where they are. And finally…," he held up and opened his palm, revealing the precious little wood carving belonging to Zaalbar which held his mother's likeness, "you will tell me how this came into your possession. No lies, speak at once."

Although her heart was itching to cut to the chase and talk about Zaalbar, Mission complied with Freyyr's demands, not wanting to test his patience as she answered honestly. "I came to Kashyyyk as part of a group who are looking for something called a 'Star Map', which we think is somewhere around these parts. We're trying to help the Republic and Jedi to stop the Sith. Ten of us came down here, but we all got separated after we were attacked by these horrible monsters."

"Why should I believe your words, little girl?" Freyyr growled, advancing a step and causing her to back away. "You think that your youth and innocent outward appearance will fool me?"

"Wait, what are you saying?" Mission replied exasperatedly. "I'm telling you the truth! You have to believe me!"

"You lie; I know this, for we have looked through your belongings. You have come bearing the very same weapon as those who came before you, many years ago. They lied to us; told us that they were defenders of peace in the galaxy, and that we would need their help in order to prevent Kashyyyk from falling under the tyranny of a great threat which loomed over the horizon. Then they unleashed them upon us – their monsters. The beasts lurk in the Shadowlands as we speak, relishing in our blood."

With barely a few minutes having passed since she awoke feeling ill and disoriented, Mission felt her confidence collapsing as she stared at the stubborn Chieftain who simply wouldn't believe a single word that came out of her mouth.

Still, she wouldn't back down. Her own life was well and truly on the line, and there was no going back.

"You're wrong. That lightsaber was handed to me to help me defend myself, after we killed a group of Sith who were hunting us on Tatooine. I'm no Jedi, and I'm definitely not a Sith. In fact…I'm no-one; just a powerless little girl in many people's eyes. But I'll be damned if I just stand idly by and let Zaalbar live the rest of his life as a prisoner at the hands of his own brother."

They very mention of his name stirred a commotion among the entire camp, with Wookiees gathering to her left and right in a rapidly growing chorus of muted whispers once those who understood Basic translated it to their peers. Peering left and right at his followers whose attention was clearly captivated, Freyyr answered. "Zaalbar? My son…a prisoner? How? How do you know him?"

"We've been best friends for a little over two years," she replied, relieved at finally having broken through and made a connection. "We met on Taris after Zaalbar had spent years wandering across the galaxy. Always looking out for each other, always promising to be there for one another no matter what. That thing you're holding in your hand," she gestured, leading Freyyr to stare down at it, "Zaalbar gave it to me before we entered the village. He told me that it's the face of his mother, and that it's more precious to him than anything else he carries."

Freyyr went silent, then looked over at Kuriiima. "You did not speak a word to her regarding this, correct?" he asked, receiving a nod from her in reply. Satisfied by the turn of events, his eyes softened dramatically. "Then you are not a liar, then. No petty thief would have seen any value in this thing, nor would they have known what it represents to Zaalbar and I. I have misjudged you."

Feeling that she owed Freyyr further explanations to inform him of the current situation, Mission continued. "Zaalbar handed me that because he thought that once we walked in there, he'd never walk out again, since he'd broken the terms of his exile. We entered the village, thinking that we would find you, but…instead, we found out firsthand that Chuundar had taken your place."

"He has taken only Zaalbar prisoner, when he had every reason and the ability to capture you all. I suppose he sought to use you in some way, just as he has used so many others in the past. Has he set a task before you, then?"

"He did, and I refuse to go along with what he wants," Mission fiercely declared. "He told us that Zaalbar will stay his prisoner unless we find and kill a 'renegade group of Wookiees' who are fighting against his rule, before the blood moon has disappeared." Almost immediately, this drew grumbles and growls from the warriors around her whose would have surely placed their hands on their weapons had she not openly stated her defiance towards Chuundar. "But to hell with him – we both know that he's a lying snake. I know what Zaalbar wants; he wants to see his homeworld free. He wants to see Czerka sent away from this planet, and so do I. The Sith destroyed my home of Taris, and I won't just sit on my hands doing nothing while Zaalbar loses his at the hands of Czerka!"

Whereas she was greeted by silent glares and bared teeth upon exiting the tent, Mission was now surrounded by a boisterous ruckus of support, the Wookiees enheartened by the courageous stance of one so small.

Freyyr looked left and right at his warriors whose war cries echoed throughout the trees, then bent his knees slightly so that he was speaking to Mission at eye level. "I admire your bravery…Mission, and I thank you for standing by my son. But I fear that you're getting yourself into a situation from which you won't make it out. I am sorry, but you cannot help us."

"Yes I can," she firmly stated. "With the friends I've come to this place with, I know we can make a difference. We have not one but four great Jedi with us, and that's not counting all of our other companions who fought with us side by side. We can help you. We can do it – you just have to trust us."

"Freyyr," Kuriiima said softly, stepping forward. "She is right. I know that it may sound like madness to put our faith in outsiders, but they may be our best and last hope. We have nowhere else to run. Nowhere else to hide. With the Mandalorian hunters in front of us and the great beasts lurking in the deeper Shadowlands behind us, we cannot go on like this much longer. Whilst we are all ready and willing to fight till our last breath, we will whittle away, slain one by one until there are none of us left. If we die…then so does Kashyyyk."

Accepting the uncomfortable truth behind his long-time companion's words, Freyyr stood upright once more and looked up at the heavens, as if to look for a sign of guidance from his forefathers before him. All he saw instead was a sky shrouded in murky clouds, with the dim blood moon due to fully wane and disappear in a mere few days. "You believe…that it is possible?" he asked, looking down into Mission's eyes.

"I know we can do it," she repeated, her steely grey eyes glistening with determination. "My friends, and especially the one who leads us…if we work together, we can accomplish anything. But first, I have to ask you: how did it come to this? Zaalbar told me about the events that led up to him becoming an exile. I trust him with my life, so I know that he's telling the truth. Chuundar, on the other hand, said nothing about you – only that you disappeared one day. What really happened between you and him?"

Despite the grim situation, Freyyr found at least a small reason to smirk. "Even in his youth, my eldest son had the gift of a silver tongue. His words always contained a measure of truth – ultimately minuscule at best, yet just enough to cover up the greater lie. But it is true.

"When I realized what his designs for Kashyyyk truly were, it was too late. By the time I mustered up the courage to confront him with an army at my back, I was badly surprised to discover just how far his tendrils had outstretched. Bribery, blackmail and assassinations…Chuundar was far ahead of me. Before we could gather to act, his agents struck out at us in the dead of night when we least expected it. Even the Wookiees I had known and trusted for years and relied upon for their counsel deserted me – out of fear of punishment, death, greed or personal ambition, I simply could not know.

"My loyal followers and I fled to the depths of the Shadowlands below, swearing to free our homeworld from the clutches of Czerka. We numbered over two hundred when we first gathered together a little over three years ago. Sickness and battle against Czerka, their Mandalorian lackeys and the beasts of the Shadowlands have taken their toll. Now…this is all that remains of us."

Mission looked around, counting at best just a little over thirty battered and weary warriors who still stood by their leader after all these years of constant fighting. There was not one amongst them who did not possess at the very least a scar; others missing fingers or an entire limb; two were missing an eye; and all were suffering from malnutrition and exhaustion.

"Time is against you. Against us," Freyyr said. "The blood moon will not last long; a mere four days, in fact. You said that your friends are scattered and lost, and I fear that we may not find them in time even if we search the entire forest. If I order a search for them by sending out my warriors, they may be picked off by those Mandalorian hunters. Then we may ultimately lose the best chance of retaking our planet."

"How come?" Mission asked. "I know it's risky, but isn't finding my friends and mounting a fight your best hope of pulling this off? I don't understand. Please, explain it to me."

"The only way for me to properly reclaim my position as Chieftain in the eyes of my people who dwell above…is to find Bacca's Blade. It is a symbolic heirloom, passed from Chieftain to Chieftain."

"Bacca's Blade? Is it…is it like a ceremonial sword of some kind?" she guessed. "But…but we saw Chuundar himself holding onto something just like that when we met him! It was a double-bladed sword with a fancy hilt that had lots of shiny gems."

"My son…," Freyyr sank his head with a sigh. "Not only has he usurped my position as Chieftain, he has also made a mockery of tradition by modifying and affixing his own mark onto Bacca's Blade itself. No, Mission. Allow me to tell you the truth.

"Many years ago, when those who proclaimed themselves to be 'Jedi' came to our world, they unleashed terrible beasts into the forests. The monsters killed everything in their path, Wookiee and animal alike, and threatened the very balance of nature. In response to this threat, my father, the former Chieftain Rothrrrawr before me, initiated a Great Hunt. We scoured the forest floor, destroying every one of the beasts we could find, losing many of our own warriors for each we slew.

"We continued for many days, until we became convinced that they had all been destroyed…but we were wrong. The last of them – the greatest of them – fell upon us. We fought desperately until just a handful of us were left.

"In one last attempt, my father leapt up and thrust Bacca's Blade into the back of the beast, but it was not enough. As the beast turned, it slammed my father against a wroshyr tree while he still clung onto the sword, breaking the blade off from the hilt. Weaponless, my father was unable to do anything as the beast then slashed across his chest with its poisonous claws. We charged in a bid to retrieve my father, my fellows successfully warding off the beast while I carried him away, the hilt lying firmly in his grip. That was the last we saw of the beast, who withdrew into the shadows with the blade lodged firmly in its back. Father succumbed to the poison days after we returned to the village, and so I became the leader of my people."

"And you believe that this monster is still out there somewhere?" Mission asked, although she herself found it difficult to believe. "I have no idea what it looks like, nor what it's capable of, but to survive with an entire sword lodged in your back…it's impossible, isn't it?"

"These are unnatural beasts," Freyyr explained. "Bred purely for the purpose of destruction by their original masters. It is out there somewhere, I can feel it. It longs for vengeance against our kind. Against me. Killing it and retrieving Bacca's Blade in a display of bravery and strength is the only way to regain my legitimacy in the eyes of my people above."

"I know it sounds like a gamble and a long shot at best, but this is our only chance. I don't know what exactly happened with these 'Jedi' from the past you've described, but you have to believe me when I say that my friends are nothing like them. They've risked their lives time and time again for my sake, when they could just as easily have left me to die so that they can carry on with their quest alone. They never abandoned me when I needed them, and I sure as hell know that they won't abandon Zaalbar or Kashyyyk. We need their help in order to track down and kill this beast."

He fell into a momentary silence, his head slowly turning left and right to gaze upon the faces of his remaining followers so that they would be etched into his memory. He knew that should he agree to Mission's proposal, he would be sending many of them to what may be certain death.

"Freyyr," Kuriiima spoke softly. "I have told you already. We are ready and willing to fight. To die. If it means being able to save Kashyyyk, we will do whatever it takes."

"It's not just Kashyyyk we're fighting for," Mission added. "If you help us in return, if you guide us to the Star Map we're after…you can play a part in saving not only Kashyyyk, but the entire galaxy from the Sith."

The convictions of his heart battling against the judgements of his head, Freyyr looked up at the skies once again, desperate to see any measure of hope. With the mist and clouds drowning out the light of the stars above, he instead looked down at the wood carving in his hand, finding solace as he glimpsed upon the face of his beloved which he remembered personally drawing so many years ago for his son.

He could still vividly recall the way she looked at him with pleading eyes on her deathbed, her grief-laden last words haunting him for the umpteenth time.

Look after him.

Protect our son.

Please…

"I will do it," he made up his mind, his fingers curling up and grasping onto the token. "If it means bringing salvation to my people, I will try. One last stand." As his companions cheered and beat their fists over their hearts, he approached Mission and held out his hand, placing the token in her possession once again as she reached up to accept it. "My son entrusted you with this, our most precious possession, and so I will do the same. Now…this 'Star Map' you speak of. What is it, exactly?"

"I…haven't seen it for myself," she responded, the admission coming with a flash of embarrassment as she recalled that she was in no physical shape to have accompanied Revan and the others to the Maps on either Dantooine or Tatooine. Instead, she relied on her best recollection of the descriptions given to her by Revan while aboard the Ebon Hawk. "But my friends who have seen it described it as being a large artifact made of stone, with three arms spread apart and holding up a sphere in the middle. Have you seen it around?"

Freyyr went silent, as if Mission's words had struck a chord with him – and far from a good one, at that. "Yes," he muttered. "I have."

Mission's eyes immediately lit up with hope. "You have? You know where it is? That's great!"

He did not share her enthusiasm one bit, replying to her blankly. "If you truly need to find it in order to save this galaxy from the Sith, then I will lead you and your friends to where it is located. But no further. I dare not approach it again myself."

She couldn't fathom what he meant, looking up at him with confused eyes. "What do you mean?"

The entire camp could sense the Chieftain's unease as he got down on one knee. He laid both of his hands on her shoulders, staring her dead in the eyes.

"It will break you."

-o-

Looking out of his prison chamber, Zaalbar despaired at the sight of what his beloved homeworld had become. Czerka's droids and pilfering machinery continued their work through the night, cutting down tree branches and moving cargo up and down the Great Walkway of Rwookrrorro in a windingly long line of containers. He stared wordlessly at Chuundar's collaborators who stood by with their bowcasters in hand while overseeing the operations, inwardly questioning how it was possible for some of his fellow Wookiees to fall into such madness and sell out their own world and people to outsiders.

Unable to endure it any further, he closed up the folding wooden windows and turned around, skulking to his bed and sitting on the side. In a cruel twist of fate, Chuundar had seen to it that he was held not in a cell, but placed effectively under house arrest in the room that once belonged to him, in one of the hallways of the Chieftain's Complex. He turned his head to look at his pillow, remembering the happier times when he would lay in bed as a child, drifting off to sleep while his mother recounted the great exploits of the Chieftains of the past while sitting in the very spot he occupied.

Suddenly, muffled voices from outside his room caught his attention, leading him to stand and prepare himself for a possible round of interrogation and torture at the hands of his captors. Instead, as the door swung open, in walked Chuundar alone, holding a crate wrapped in a cloth sack. "Hello, brother. I trust that you find your quarters to your liking?" he smiled, his expression hardly holding back his intention to inflict mockery as the door closed behind him.

"I would much rather have preferred to be held in the prison overseen by Worrroznor, Holder of the Laws," Zaalbar replied, turning his head away. "At least then I would be satisfied, knowing that you have upheld some measure of our customs, instead of continuing to make a mockery of them by holding me here."

"Were you any other exile or petty outlaw, I would have been satisfied to do just that," Chuundar replied, approaching him. "But this is no ordinary circumstance. You must understand that although he continues to carry out his duties to the letter while under my rule, Worrroznor is still such a sentimental one. Therefore there is no other place where I can hold you, except here. But enough of that." He reached out and turned Zaalbar by the shoulder while holding up the sack in front of him. "You must be hungry, little brother."

Although his initial inclination leaned towards outright rejecting Chuundar's offer with a sneer, Zaalbar was unable to deny that he was absolutely starving, having not consumed any food or drink for many hours ever since he was taken captive. He stared longingly, wondering just what the inner contents of the wrappings were.

Growing impatient with him, Chuundar grumbled. "Brother, don't be a fool. Your friends will not return from the Shadowlands for several days – my spies have assured me that they have gone a long way and out of their watch. They will not be making any heroic effort to rescue you from my clutches. Not today, at least. You must eat. Come." He walked over to the nearby round wooden table placed near the left-hand wall which was accompanied by two stools, setting down the sack and unwrapping it.

"Is that…," Zaalbar murmured, eyes fixed on the meal.

"Xachibik broth, bantha rump, forest-honey cakes and thikkiian brandy – your favorites. I remember that fact well."

Having been away from Kashyyyk for so long, the mere scent of the succulent delicacies that he had sorely missed was enough to drive him crazy in his starved state. He slowly walked over to the table which was set up with individual servings of the broth, cakes and brandy, and one large sharing platter of the rump meat, as Chuundar sat on the stool closer to the door.

Sensing Zaalbar's hesitancy, Chuundar sighed. "So? Will you join me to eat, brother? Think of it as an apology for our earlier encounter which didn't go the way I would have liked it to. It has been a long day, not only for you, but also for me."

Without a word, Zaalbar obliged his elder brother, sitting down opposite him as they prepared to eat together for the first time in over five years. While the feeling of intense disgust remained, he did consider the fact that it was Chuundar who came to him in person, when he was more than able to order his guards to have him beaten and dragged into the dining hall in chains.

"Ahh, when was the last time we ate together like this?" Chuundar remarked, using a long fork to jab at a piece of bantha meat. He held the food in front of his face, marveling at it almost as if it was a piece of art. "If I remember correctly, it would have been a few days before your exile. Father was with us then – it was the last time we ate as a family."

Too busy reminiscing to respond to Chuundar's words, Zaalbar took one bite of the bantha meat, eager to put an end to his dizziness which was brought about by fatigue and hunger. All at once the memories began to flood back again, his eyelids beginning to water as he murmured. "This…this is…"

"None other. It is Mother's recipe. All of it. I normally do not give specific requests to the cooks on menial things like these, but on this occasion I had them prepare these just for you."

"I appreciate this unexpected gesture, brother," Zaalbar thanked him, then looked at him with serious eyes. "But if you think that such token gifts will convince me to join you, you are mistaken. I never will."

"Bah. Headstrong and stubborn, as always," Chuundar scoffed, taking another bite of the food. "Just like that one time when I told you not to climb that tree when you were seven years old. Do you remember? You were so eager to climb as high as you could, then when it was time to climb back down, you were petrified and frozen, unable to find a proper footing. I had to make my way up to retrieve you, and kept my mouth shut while Father scolded me afterwards for not watching over you properly."

Zaalbar paused. "What are you getting at, Chuundar? What kind of game are you trying to pull me into?"

"No games. No mischief," he answered, putting down the now skinless piece of bone on a side plate. "We will talk about what is going to happen going forward after our meal. For now, let's just eat and reminisce on old times. You can curse at and condemn me to your heart's content now that it's just the two of us, but save it for until your stomach's properly full. Say, do you remember the time that we…"

Although Chuundar still did the majority of the talking, with nothing more than small answers from Zaalbar in the beginning, the recounting of the past allowed for the tension to eventually begin to thaw, and the conversation flowed. The two brothers spoke at length on various childhood episodes, ranging from the innocent pranks they once played on each other; their favorite memories with their parents; the beautiful celebrations that took place on each Life Day; and the pride the entire family felt when Zaalbar finally accomplished his hrrtayyk – his coming-of-age ritual hunt in the Shadowlands.

And strangely enough, regardless of whether it was genuine or brought about by the onset of the effects of the brandy, Zaalbar began to wonder if there was more to Chuundar than he first thought. Something that resembled the brother he once knew. Something similar to the person who was always there for him in the days of his youth after the passing of their mother.

Someone worth saving.

"You know, Zaalbar," Chuundar sighed after they had finished their dessert of forest-honey cakes and were down to their last drops of brandy, "I'm happy to finally have around someone whom I can genuinely trust." He looked into his brother's eyes, hoping to see hints that his senses had been dulled to the point where he would be more receptive. Clearly, more persuasion was needed, as he continued. "I've always admired that about you – that peerless sense of integrity. I wish…I wish I had someone like you by my side."

"Stop," Zaalbar turned him down flat. "The answer is no, brother."

"You don't understand, Zaalbar," he insisted, reaching over and firmly wrapping his fingers around his little brother's wrist. "What you said to me earlier today, in the great hall…you were right."

Zaalbar could only stare at him with confused eyes. "…What?"

"What you said about Czerka using me as a puppet. The lack of any starships on our part. The only thing you were wrong about was stating that I am blind to such facts. I assure you, I am not."

Hearing such things only served to heighten Zaalbar's frustration as he fumed at his older sibling, brushing aside his hand. "Then explain yourself! Why do you continue with all of this? Why do you insist on allowing Czerka to carry on killing our world day by day?"

"It was indeed a partnership at first, Zaalbar. Their activities started off on a small scale, whereupon they would be allowed to poach to a reasonable extent in the Shadowlands in exchange for building up our infrastructure. We always kept them in check; made sure that their numbers didn't grow so large as to threaten our own hold over Kashyyyk. But as time went on, things began to sour.

"With the Republic being forced to pour more and more resources and manpower in their desperate war against the Mandalorians, Czerka saw the opportunity and ramped up their scale of operations. Countless scores of them now roam freely even in this village, something that would have been unheard of merely a few years back. Their grip on our world has tightened, but that has also come with a benefit."

"You talk like a madman, brother," Zaalbar mocked. "How is that to your benefit? It is like smiling while a noose is tightening around your neck."

"Infrastructure, Zaalbar. Infrastructure," Chuundar pointed out. "Czerka's greed is insatiable; they greatly desire to expand their reach throughout the galaxy, beat the Hutts in their own backyard, and eventually tap into the resources of the worlds beyond the Outer Rim.

"You see, Kashyyyk is ideally located along several trade routes and has been a stable resupplying station for the past few years. Because of this, Czerka have recently embarked on expanding their starport capacity on our world. We can use this to our advantage. But to make this happen, I need you and your friends' help."

"What makes you think that Kael and the others will help you? We were all disgusted by what we have seen ever since landing here. They will never join your cause."

"Which is why I need your help to convince them," Chuundar insisted. "This is our one chance to turn things in our favor, Zaalbar. With just my Wookiee elite guard, I am helpless. But with Jedi and Mandalorians working side by side? Just think of the things we can accomplish together. We can not only overthrow Czerka, but force those of them who are currently on our planet to work for us. You mocked me for not even having a fleet of my own, but now the chance to build that fleet is within our grasp. We have the means; now we simply need to find the will to do what must be done."

Disgusted by the very thought of what was suggested, Zaalbar voiced his anger. "I cannot believe what I'm hearing, Chuundar. You have gone quite mad. I will not fight Czerka's evil by becoming a greater monster myself!"

"Oh. So let me guess…you still believe that you can stop all of this? That you can actually control what's going on around you?" He leaned in, his once open and receptive tone instantly eclipsed by the darkness that was lurking inside. "Think, Zaalbar! Just what difference can you and your friends – the mere ten of you – make on your own? How much blood are you willing to spill, and how many of your companions are you willing to potentially sacrifice by plunging our planet into civil war? Do you want to usurp my position and take the title of Chieftain for yourself? Do you honestly think that you'll last even a single week as Chieftain once your friends have departed, when this entire village is festering with conniving jackals who would stab you in the back the moment you show an ounce of weakness?"

For a long time, neither brother spoke a word, as Chuundar eagerly awaited an answer that never came from Zaalbar who could only stare down at the table in silence. He had focused so much on his dreams of freedom for his people, and spent no time pondering on the broader ramifications and future outcomes.

While he had always sought to play his part to ensure the safety and prosperity of the village prior to his exile, it was his father and brother whom he relied upon to provide his people with the necessary leadership. He shrank away at the thought of suddenly becoming elevated to the position of Chieftain, especially when it meant the very real possibility of a grim final confrontation with his own brother.

He was not ready.

"Zaalbar," Chuundar sighed. "The past is the past. The old ways are dead; there is no changing that fact, no matter how much you would like to. Father is not coming back, so we must do this on our own. I need your help. I listen to the Czerka men every day. They spoke of Taris, of Corellia…surely you don't want Kashyyyk to burn without even the slightest ability to offer resistance?"

"…"

"Very well. I see that you still need more time," Chuundar concluded, as he cleared out the table and put the dinnerware and pile of bantha bones into the sack before making his way to the door. When the door opened up to him, he turned one more time to Zaalbar who sat alone, locked in thought while staring at his hands. "Remember what I've told you, brother. I hope you consider what I've said."

Not long after the doors shut closed, the maddening noises came back into Zaalbar's focus. The groaning of the felled trees; the incessant stench of smoke; the wildlife crying for release from their cages. It killed him inside, that feeling of utter powerlessness while his entire world was being torn asunder all around him.

He walked over and opened the window once more, his thoughts lingering on his companions upon whose shoulders the fate of all living beings on Kashyyyk now rested. As grim as the situation seemed, he prayed that they would pull through, just as they did when they all saved Mission on Tatooine.

It seemed impossible back then, but they did it. They saved her.

Surely, it would be the same case for Kashyyyk.

It had to be.

A/N: I had actually hoped that this chapter would allow me to finally return to my old, reasonable target chapter length of around 5,000 words. Well, here we are, belting out another 8,400+ wonder. I've been finding myself doing that these days as I'm keen to have my plot be as original as possible, give each of the supporting party members a proper role to play and develop themselves, and also add whatever details I think are necessary in order to make everything connect. To be perfectly honest, I think the reason for this is because I've taken to heart MauLer's absolutely scathing criticisms of the character development aspect in the Disney Star Wars trilogy. I'm well aware of some of your criticisms regarding some characters in my story, and all I can say to those people is to be patient – we're only halfway through Kashyyyk, with three Star Maps left to find.

It was enjoyable writing the parts with Freyyr and Chuundar, as I really wanted to expand upon what was presented in the game. I wanted to portray Freyyr as a true leader in his own right who actively fights for his people, rather than as the mere beneficiary of Revan's actions. The chat between Zaalbar and Chuundar was quite a challenge, because I wanted to give a 'behind-the-scenes' view of what happened between the two of them that we never got to see, or listen to Zaalbar talk about in the game. I always found it strange to the point of ridiculousness how Zaalbar was so adamant about stopping Chuundar when he arrived in the village, only to act indecisive and confused during the later confrontation. I have to admit, I had a little chuckle while I was writing the bit where Chuundar had his "Think Mark, think!" moment with Zaalbar, haha.

Hope everyone is well, and I'll see you in the next chapter.