Yavin IV, 9 ABY
Luke Skywalker sat within his hut, stirring the embers in the fire pit out of dormancy. He laid another log on the coals, settling into quiet contemplation as the log slowly caught fire. Firelight rippled across the stone walls of the hut, and he settled into his wooden chair, closing his eyes as the crackling flames played a percussive counterpoint to the symphony of nighttime insects in the jungle around him.
With his eyes closed, he settled into a gentle meditation, sinking deeper into the rich tapestry of life surrounding him. Luke wondered whether the Jedi Council's refusal to leave Coruscant had been instrumental in their demise; how could one even begin to hear what the Force had to say on a planet as noisy as Coruscant? Here on Yavin, he could feel and hear the Force almost as if it were whispering in his ear. . .
As the thought passed through his quieting mind, Luke felt a presence brush his consciousness. It had a distant, amplified quality, as if something far away carried a message through the Force. The message carried no words, only a curious emotion. Luke attuned his senses toward the message, recognizing the amplified quality and placing it in his memory. Others had called to him across great distances, and those calls conveyed the same feeling – amplified, a plea for help. An image of the place arose in his mind; an ancient temple on a mountaintop; the seeing stone of Tython.
As Luke's senses attuned to the presence, he saw a series of fleeting images: A Mandalorian in gleaming silver armor; flashes of a cold, clinical laboratory; a bright light; a man with dark skin and a corrupted grin; the warm, accepting face of Ahsoka Tano. The last image lingered on a pair of tiny, clawed hands with four, green fingers that looked all-too-familiar to Luke.
The vision vanished abruptly, and Luke jerked out of his meditations with a start. Luke gazed into the crackling flames, the images flashing through his mind. Whoever it was knew Ahsoka, and there was a Mandalorian involved.
"Son, I felt it, too," an echoing voice said from beside him.
Luke turned to see Anakin Skywalker sitting on the side of his bed, his eyes closed.
"Do you know who it was?" Luke asked.
"I have my suspicions," Anakin said, and a smile crossed his face. "I believed him dead following the Purge. But I guess I should have known. . ."
"Tell me," Luke implored.
Anakin smiled, remembering back to some fond memory from before the dark times. "When I was just a Youngling, there was another youngling who became a great sensation among the Jedi. Even the Masters seemed excited, for it had been hundreds of years since a youngling like this one had emerged."
"What species was this?" Luke asked, his suspicions flaring as he recalled the clawed green hand that seemed so familiar.
"It was a being of the same species as Master Yoda," Anakin said gravely. "His name was – well, is, Grogu."
"Grogu," Luke repeated, and an image of a much younger Yoda flashed through his mind. "He's on Tython."
"You must go to him," Anakin said, and his face darkened. "I fear he may be in danger."
Luke rose from his seat and called his lightsaber from the shelf upon which it rested. The weapon arced across the hut to his hand, and he clipped it to his belt. He grabbed his black robe and pulled it over his shoulders. He poured a bucket of water over the fire, which sent a plume of smoke through the roof. Luke removed a communicator device from his pocket and said, "Artoo, fire up the ship and bring it to the clearing near the hut. We leave immediately."
Artoo twittered an affirmative. Anakin stood from the bed, and as Luke prepared to leave, Anakin said, "Careful, my son. Danger surrounds this child. But beyond that, remember that Mara Jade is still out there. We don't know how she might be involved, where she might be, or what she might do."
"Thank you, Father," Luke said.
Luke switched a setting on the communicator and said, "Cal, this is Luke. You there?"
Several long moments went by, when to Luke's surprise a woman's deep voice responded. "Luke, it's Taila ."
"Where's Cal?" Luke asked.
"Cal experienced a premonition in the Force. He told me that he found a lead on the one he met on Nevarro," Luke explained.
"And he left without telling me?" Luke frowned.
"Well, minutes ago, really," Taila said. "I was putting the Younglings to bed."
Luke sighed, feeling more discomfited about the news than he felt he ought. He reminded himself that Cal was tough, a survivor of many dark times. He would be fine.
"Taila , I have encountered something in the Force that requires immediate attention. I'm placing you in command while I am gone; please report to me if anything happens," Luke directed.
"I understand, Luke," Taila affirmed as the call closed.
Luke heard the whine of the X-wing's engines approaching, and a light passed over the hut, briefly illuminating the interior.
"Good luck, son," Anakin said, smiling. "The Force will be with you. As will I."
Luke smiled and nodded, then stepped out of the hut into the thick night air of the Yavin jungles.
Coruscant, 9 ABY
"Not bad for a scruffy looking nerf-herder, eh?" Han said, putting his boots up on the Ottoman and resting his hands behind his head.
Leia did not turn to bestow a scowl, instead watching the CGNN newscaster run through an analysis of the events that took place in the Senate Committee hearing. Leia unmuted the television to listen to the broadcast.
. . . Senator Brasaar remains in Republic custody, and the Chancellor's office has indicated that Republic Intelligence has already begun fact-finding operations and interrogations into Senator Brasaar's connections to Elvyn Bolsko and Moff Gideon. As our viewers may recall, Moff Gideon was sentenced to death by the Republic's War Tribunal for his role in the Mandalorian Purge, as well as numerous atrocities committed before and during the Civil War. Details on his survival despite his confirmed death remain scarce, as does information on Moff Gideon's current whereabouts. His last confirmed location, per Republic Marshal Carasynthia Dune, placed him on Nevarro several weeks ago, confirming former General Han Solo's reports, but his current location, as well as the extent of his forces remains unknown.
As to Senator Brasaar's candidacy for Chancellor, the Galactic Republic's Election Commission reports that Brasaar's campaign has suspended its operations, and it is widely expected that Chancellor Mon Mothma will win an uncontested second term as Chancellor. . .
"I'm not going to say I told you so. . ." Han chided.
Leia turned around and glared at him, her expression icy. She muted the report and tossed the remote control at Han. Han reacted belatedly, and the remote bounced off of his forehead. Leia swept from the room, and Han, wounded, called out, "Hey what was that for?"
Leia did not respond, instead striding toward the bedroom. Han pulled himself out of his chair and followed her. He reached the doorway to the bedroom and said, "Don't tell me you're still angry with me. Everything worked out fine."
"I need to prepare for the renunciation Taila mony," Leia said brusquely. "I'd like some privacy."
"Leia, come on," Han said. "Brasaar's exposed. Mon Mothma is going to win. You get to be Vice Chancellor, and Gideon is on the run."
"I suppose you want another medal," Leia said, entering the closet to examine her voluminous wardrobe.
"A thank you might be nice," Han grumbled.
"An apology would be even nicer," Leia called out from within the closet.
"Oh come on," Han called as his aggravation surged.
Leia peered out of the doorway, holding a gown in her left hand as she pointed at him. "No, Han. This isn't about you saving the day again, or whatever the hell you're patting yourself on the back for. It doesn't matter that it 'all worked out alright.' The point is. . ."
"The point is that somebody has to take initiative in this government," Han shot back.
"Don't!" Leia snapped. She glared at Han, and then her anger subsided as her Jedi calm reasserted itself. "Don't interrupt me, Han." Han spread his arms out wide, gesturing that he was listening. Leia opened her mouth, but as Han adopted his wounded, 'why me?' expression, Leia threw the gown on the floor and stalked past him, brushing his shoulder as she left the room.
"Leia?" Han asked, confused.
She left the bedroom and did not turn around. Han turned and walked to the entrance of the doorway, and as Leia reached the door, she called back at him, "I think it's best you spend a few nights in the Falcon. I'll let you know when I'm ready to talk to you."
"Leia, come on. You know I did this for our. . ." Han began. But before he could finish, Leia had left the apartment, and the door slid shut behind her, leaving Han standing stupidly in the doorway to the bedroom.
"I love you, too," Han grumbled resentfully.
He turned from the doorway and shuffled over to the bed, his head swimming with resentment and confusion. He kicked his boots off and laid down on the bed. Leia's scent was still on the pillows, and he fended off a wave of longing and frustration as he turned away, staring at the closet where her gown lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. His resentment set his mind to racing, and he played the argument out dozens of times in his mind before finally drifting off into an uneasy doze.
Solo?
Han shifted, feeling the heaviness of sleep pressing in on him. He was cold, and as he rolled to his side, Leia's scent invaded his senses, stirring a confused, half-remembered longing and resentment. In his disorientation, he closed his eyes tighter, trying to find his way back to the nap he had fallen into.
Solo? Are you there?
It was a woman's voice, and she was insistent. At first, he thought it might be Leia coming back to tell him that he did not have to sleep in the Falcon. But Leia had never called him Solo. He rolled over begrudgingly to see the light on the bedside holonet glowing green.
"Solo," the woman's voice said. "The Falcon's computer told me you were in your apartment. I could really use a minute of your time."
"Yeah, who is it?" Han grunted, his voice gravelly from sleep.
"Sabine Wren," the woman said. "Are you asleep?"
"I was," Han retorted in annoyance.
"Well, wake up. I need your help," Sabine commanded.
"Alright, alright," Han said, the gravel in his voice shaking off as he pulled himself into a sitting position. "What's so important?"
"I found another cache of beskar," Sabine said, and Han could hear the tension in her voice.
"That's great," Han said, his awareness beginning to ramp up as he worked his way back to wakefulness. "Does your Bo-Katan friend know?"
"She's not responding," Sabine said. "I've tried contacting her several times, and the line just keeps pinging."
"That's weird," Han said. "Everything alright?"
There was a pause, followed by: "I have no idea,"
"At any rate, I'm actually there right now. The location is quiet, and I don't see much going on. But I just. . ." Sabine said, her voice vague.
"Yeah, that was a bad idea," Han confirmed. "Ahsoka couldn't go with you?"
"You busy?" Sabine asked.
"Well, Leia's renunciation is this evening, but something tells me she'd rather not see my face at the moment," Han explained. The pit in his stomach grew. They had fought badly before, but they always managed to come together in the end. It would not be the first time he had to sleep it off in the Falcon, but there was something about the iciness in her voice. Despite all the Jedi training, she had always been fiery. Ice was something else entirely.
"Feel like taking a field trip?" Sabine asked, hopefully.
Han sighed, then fell back into the bed. When he did not respond, Sabine asked, "Solo? You there?"
"Yeah, I'm here," Han said. "I'm in it deep enough as it is, Sabine. If I go out on another adventure, who knows what Leia's going to do."
"Fair enough," Sabine said. "You don't have to go down on the ground. I just want eyes in the sky to tell me what might be coming. Just do a fly by, hover in the air, and keep me in the loop?"
"Sabine, come on," Han said, his frustration mounting despite his desire to race off and help.
"Han, this one's different," Sabine pleaded. "I think I might have a lead on Thrawn here as well. It's not just the stash I'm after. I have reason to believe Thrawn hooked up with whoever's been backing Brasaar's campaign."
"Are you serious?" Han said brightening.
"Yeah, Han," Sabine said. "I'll share everything I learned. I just need some backup."
Han considered the entreaty, blocking out the mental image Leia's face etched with furious disapproval. But even with Mon Mothma's campaign triumphant, he knew there was no way intelligence was going to drop everything an investigate this. Realizing that Leia would not even know that he was gone, he jumped from the bed.
"Where do I meet you?" Han asked.
"Rhamalai," Sabine said.
"I'm on my way," Han said, and he shut off the call as he raced toward the door.
Rhamalai, 9 ABY
The holonet deactivated, its green light darkening into dormancy. Sabine Wren's eyes went blank, and her head lolled to the side as her mind disconnected. Her body slumped, hanging from a wooden post in the shadows of a dilapidated warehouse. Standing before her, a woman with cascading red hair waved her hand before Sabine's face, whispering, "Sleep."
The Gap, 9 ABY
Ezra Bridger leaned back in the cramped drive housing of the Imperial shuttle, marveling at the report from the datapad on his lap that the drive was now fully functional. The sublight drive purred before him, and after running the diagnostics for the twelfth time, Ezra finally felt confident that the ship was repaired.
He crawled out of the drive housing and pulled himself up to his feet within the galley. He placed the panel over the drive compartment, bolting it into place. He strode to the cockpit and settled himself into the captain's seat, flipping the switches on and feeling the sublight engine vibrating the ship beneath him. He activated the repulsor lifts, and with a swoop of joy and anxiety, he felt the ship rise from the volcanic wastes, kicking up a cloud of fine black dust. As the shuttle rose into the air, he turned it toward the vector suggested by the ship's computer, and he nudged the throttle forward, sending the shuttle shooting into the sky.
He opened the ship's nav computer and found the previous route running several parsecs from a point near the estimated boundary of the galaxy. He pulled the hyperdrive lever back, and the ship shot forward into space, racing along the prescribed course. Anxiety swelled inside him, paired with a subtle, searing rage. Thrawn was there, and so was Ahsoka. Whether Sabine, Zeb, Hera, Chopper, Kallus, or Rex remained was a mystery. He did not know what awaited him on the other side; he only knew that Thrawn would be there, waiting unsuspectingly for the moment when Ezra would return to slide a knife through his heart. He smiled, thinking, no lightsaber. A knife. I want to see the blood. The image of the light dying behind Thrawn's eyes burned in Ezra's mind, and the fantasy, upon which he fixated through his waking hours and every night before he fell to sleep resumed.
I was under the impression that revenge was not the province of your Jedi, a familiar voice spoke in his mind.
"I don't think I care," Ezra responded, maneuvering the ship through the sky as it screamed toward the atmospheric boundary.
Your desire for revenge has helped you survive, Armoth observed.
A golden light began to glow to his right, and Ezra turned to see Armoth's ghost sitting in his chair.
"You have done well, Ezra Bridger," Armoth affirmed.
"Let's wait until I'm standing over Thrawn's dead body before you say that," Ezra said, pulling back the hyperdrive lever. As the ship shot forward into hyperspace, he and Armoth sat in silence with Ezra awash in ruminations of revenge, and Armoth's ghost sitting stoically beside him. Ezra took comfort from the ghost's presence, realizing that he would have died had it not been for the mysterious being's help.
After several hours, Ezra noticed that the proximity timer would soon begin counting down with two minutes to go until their destination. Ezra suspected that he would come out where they had faced down the Grysk task force, and from there, he would still have to navigate the rest of the way to whatever opening might allow him to exit the hell of the Unknown Regions.
"Armoth?" Ezra asked.
"Yes, Ezra Bridger," the ghost replied.
"Thank you," Ezra said, turning toward him. "I would have died without your help."
"You underestimate yourself," Armoth affirmed. "Unlearn what these Jedi have taught you. Keep what serves you, discard the rest."
"I will," Ezra said. The ship dropped out of hyperspace, and Ezra saw the distant wreckage of the Grysk task force he had destroyed drifting in darkness against the blue-orange glow of interstellar gasses. Ezra looked at the scope, noting that several obstacles remained before him. He piloted the shuttle toward the spot where he assumed the gap might be, and as he did so, he noticed that Armoth's ghost began to fade.
He slowed the ship to a halt and turned to Armoth's faded ghost. "Armoth? What's happening to you?"
"I cannot pass," Armoth said, his voice hollow and distant.
Ezra frowned in confusion. "What do you mean, you cannot pass?"
"The Guardian's boundary contains me in this part of the Galaxy. Alone, I cannot pass," Armoth explained.
"You can't come with me?" Ezra asked, a sudden feeling of loss. Armoth had been strange, inscrutable, occasionally critical, and often demanding and unforgiving. Yet, he had also been a comfort and a support beyond what Ezra had known for nearly a decade.
"No, I cannot," Armoth said. "Farewell, Ezra Bridger."
Armoth's ghost began to fade, and Ezra's grief surged. "Wait!" Armoth's ghost lingered, a mere shadow, almost invisible. "There's really no other way?"
"There is," Armoth acknowledged. "But it is not one I would ask of you. Farewell, Ezra. . ."
"What is it?" Ezra asked urgently.
Ezra had a sense of the faint ghost shifting uncomfortably before he said, "It requires that you open your heart to me. I will then become one with you - for a time. I might be able to pass the Guardian's scrutiny, at which point, I could separate, unbound."
Ezra paused, thinking through what this meant. Open your heart to me. What did that mean? The image flashed before his eyes of Kanan holding back a wall of flames. If he returned, who would be there to guide him, to help him gain the strength?
"I'll do it," Ezra said. "Just show me what to do."
"It is painful, difficult," Armoth said. "Suffered enough, you have."
Ezra hesitated, then, recognizing that he had suffered plenty before and that more suffering meant little to him, said, "What do I have to lose?"
Armoth hesitated, and Ezra thought he might speak. However, he remained silent, his ghost clarifying in intensity.
"Stand, Ezra Bridger," Armoth commanded.
Ezra rose from his chair and faced Armoth. As he did so, Armoth's figure devolved into a brilliant golden light. The light set the cockpit ablaze with a golden glow, and Ezra closed his eyes against the brilliance. Paralysis took him, and he grunted as a powerful heat washed over him. He strained against the burning sensation, and he opened his eyes to see the golden light entwined around him. The burning pervaded his muscles, bones, and nerves, and as the pain mounted, Ezra shouted as the sensation threatened to overwhelm his nervous system. As he opened his mouth again to scream out in agony, the pain suddenly stopped, leaving his muscles aching and his bones sore. He collapsed onto the ground, his breathing heavy and his mind foggy.
In a distant corner of his mind, he heard Armoth say, Ezra Bridger. We are one.
Ezra lay on the floor for nearly an hour as his muscles and bones recovered from the burning onslaught. When his strength recovered, he pulled himself to the floor and crawled toward the pilot's seat. After several attempts in which his strength failed, he managed to pull himself into the pilot's chair. He collapsed backward, exhausted. As he gazed out the cockpit, he saw a tiny black point ahead, a barren spot in the midst of the swirling interstellar gasses surrounding him.
The Gap, Armoth affirmed.
Ezra reached forward, nudging the ship on a direct course for the gap. As he flew forward, the gap grew in size until it became a vast. Ezra saw the wreckage of a space station spinning derelict in the void, and his anger flared at Thrawn claiming yet more innocent victims. As the ship's computer indicated that the shuttle had cleared the Gap's gravity well, Ezra plugged in a set of a familiar coordinates, triggering an avalanche of curiosity, dread, and nostalgia. The nav computer ran its calculations, and it reported back on the screen: Destination: Lothal. Route confirmed.
Ezra reached forward and took hold of the hyperdrive lever. The image of Thrawn's face flashed before his eyes, and as his determination and strength returned, he pulled the lever back, hatred etched in his face.
The Imperial shuttle shot forward, vanishing into the expanse of space, leaving nothing but wreckage behind. The space remained cold, dark, and silent, its eternal emptiness restored. The orange and blue gasses swirling on the edge of the gap glowed in the void, and the stars twinkled in their infinitude. Yet the silence and stillness lingered ephemerally. Creeping along on the route Ezra had followed, a dozen angular cruisers appeared, their twin fuselages arrayed forward like a pair of jagged knives extending from a pyramidal superstructure. The fleet hovered in space above the void, lingering in the darkness as if taking a deep breath before the plunge. The hesitation resolved, and the Grysk fleet shot forward into the darkness.