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Inevitable Victory Pro Golf Course, Confederate Center. Earth
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The brief warm spell that gripped Confederate Center during the last week of March hinted that an early spring was on its way for the capital of the Confederacy of Earth Nations. According to stories from before the last war, the often-forgotten rise in global warming had threatened to erase winter all together. That was before the Empire who, among their other inflictions they had imparted on the Earth, had nearly kicked off a new ice age with the number of particulates they had blasted into Earth's atmosphere.
Finnigan Incite stepped up to the tee and took a few practice strokes. The snow-capped peaks of the Rocky Mountains provided evidence that winter was never truly gone in this part of world. If not for the miraculous scientific breakthroughs of the Baffin Island Terraforming Project this fairway would still be under a full meter of snow for another two months.
"Are you going to hit it or are you planning on just fanning it all day?" Cameron Harris, second son of the President, newly returned from Kafrene Outpost with the rest of the crew of the Revenge-class Corvette, Yangtze, joked with his college friend.
"Sorry, I was distracted by my eagle on the last hole." Finnigan pushed back with friendly banter of his own.
"Last I checked Griffon still has the lead by three strokes." Senator Buffet, late of the disbanded Confederate Senate and head of the Trade Federation, reminded the three much younger players that filled out the foursome.
Finnigan tightly gripped the Callaway carbonite driver, pulled back and let fly. In the middle of his downswing, he felt it was a tad off just before the driver's head made contact with the ball. The Titleist golf ball shanked away to the left of the fairway. If it landed in the rough it would take several strokes to make it onto the green with the other players. Griffon and Cameron were already chuckling at his misfortune.
Without raising his hands or closing his eyes he reached out through the Force to the arcing projectile. A simple tug and the ball drifted away from the tall grass that lined the left of the fairway and plopped down almost dead center of the par five, bouncing several times before rolling smartly to a stop just ten meters short of the green.
"When I was your boys' age, I was a Treasury advisor to the President at the time. I believe we called that a Trump bounce." Buffet joked about the long passed away President of the now defunct United States.
"Now that you've been 'retired', Senator, I suppose you'll have more time to dedicate to your short game." Griffon Harris said as he teed up between the blocks. His Secret Service caddy handed him his 1 Wood.
"With the Ministries taking over, I'm actually busier than ever. The Trade Federation is securing upwards of a hundred military contracts a day ever since we launched our attack on Mars." Buffet admitted.
"I thought your factories would have slowed down after you built Space Force's fleet." Cameron observed.
"The last year was a close-run thing. Six hundred ships built right under the nose of those rats in New Mandalore and then transferred to the rendezvous point with the First Order outside of the system. But just because the fleet has been completed doesn't mean our work is complete. In four months of combat over thirty ships have returned here or to Luna for major repairs." Buffet said.
"I was surprised the Empire didn't roll over and play dead after we destroyed that fleet at Plympto Blight." Griffon said. "They've got to know they'll never get Mars back."
"You haven't been out there, brother." Cameron retorted. "They clapped back at us pretty good at Ro-loo a few weeks ago and no one suspected a handful of them could have held us off for so long at Waypoint 16."
"Waypoint 16? I haven't heard of it." Griffon admitted.
"It was all over the Imperial HoloNews until it fell. Small little dirtball with a few heavy turbolasers along the Bloodstripe. During my recent stint with the First Order, they got a good laugh out of it at Space Force's expense." Finnigan explained.
"Well, there you go. I only get my news from CNN." Griffon admitted with patriotic pride. Finnigan looked to the small crowd of reporters who were following along on the course. The President's sons, an ex-Senator and the popular Youth Leader of the Guardians of the Whills ensured some measure of media scrutiny. Earlier a CNN camera drone had been shooed away by the Secret Service. Finnigan's eyes narrowed when he spotted two clandestine observers among the reporters; informants from the Church he noted. Panda had not been too clever at concealing that he had been keeping tabs on Finnigan ever since he returned from Mars. Griffon noticed the media attention. "All the news my dad wants you to know."
That got a laugh out of the golf party, including the senior Buffet. The Trade Federation CEO had no doubt invited the younger Harris's for their political clout now that the Senate was disbanded. "Well, the news certainly has the opinion that the shuttering of the Senate was a grand idea."
"No offense, Senator. But I was under the impression that the Confederate Senate was no more than a rubber stamp organization. Did you even hold a vote on a declaration of war or did you just agree when Admiral Akfar delivered the declaration to those two Star Destroyers he wrecked at Luna?" Finnigan asked.
"Oh, we had a vote. It was done in secret the night before and the entire body was sequestered so the news wouldn't break before the attack." Buffet replied.
"Unsurprisingly, it was unanimous." Griffon rolled his eyes at the ironic thought that democracy still lived and breathed inside the CEN.
"The President had spoken. We were slowing down the war effort. The Empire is the greatest existential threat the Earth has faced since the asteroid that wiped out the dinosaurs. Every voice, across all four classes, must be one to defeat that bitch Empress and those Stormtroopers of theirs." Buffet parroted the message that was smeared across every form of Confederate media twenty-four hours a day since the dissolution of the Senate. If there was a Senator that had disagreed with the decision, Finnigan hadn't heard about it. Such a hypothetical disillusioned Senator would have surely been disappeared before their opinion made it to the public's ears.
"As a practical matter the Senate hasn't existed in a long time. We never heard anything from them in Space Force." Cameron said. "I doubt the Admirals would have listened to the politicos anyway."
"It's much better now. We have a strong leader who can make quick decisions without having to waste time in committees. Believe me, I have to deal with enough of them with any Guardians of the Whills business I attend to." Finnigan offered.
Griffon hauled back and unleashed a perfect drive right down the center of the fairway. It took a nice long roll and stopped a few meters away from the pin. Cameron clicked his tongue in disgust. "I guess some of us have been practicing leisurely pursuits while the rest of us were out defending the Confederacy."
"Ah, brother. Don't be jealous that all of Dad's natural skill and intelligence fell on the superior sibling." Griffon retorted which got an insincere laugh from Finnigan. He was long used to laughing on command at the jokes and jibes the two brothers would hurl at one another when he was in their company, regardless of how funny they actually were. While he did genuinely like the two Harris brothers, a part of his pride smarted at having to suck up to the two pampered princes of the Confederacy. They would always be his social superiors in Confederate society, despite the fact that they were all 1st class citizens. He rebelled at such a notion. He was of a superior breed. Vala Ren had revealed that much to him.
Cameron stepped to his own tee and began to square up. Finnigan decided on a distraction technique to throw his friend off his game. "How long are you on Earth?"
"Haven't you ever heard the term 'loose lips sink ships'?" Cameron asked as he waited for the spring breeze to die down a tad before taking his swing.
"I doubt our dear Youth Leader here is going to text the Empress with the movements of a single Revenge corvette." Buffett suggested.
"Too true, Senator." Cameron admitted. "Truth is, I am shipping out again. The Yangtze is slated for three days of transporting engineers and heavy equipment out to Titan for the First Order. It will take that long before we can top off our hypermatter at Venus."
"The hypermatter shortages will get better once the Supreme Leader gets things set up at Titan." Buffett assured the young officer. "We just weren't ready at Venus to meet all the needs of Space Force in the time your father gave us."
"It'd take another decade to get the orbital plant at Venus producing what Space Force needs for this war." Griffon said.
"We thought we'd be capturing more Imperial stocks but the fucking ETs burned everything they could as they fell back." Cameron offered.
"Wouldn't have happened if Akfar hadn't gotten distracted occupying every piece of Imperial territory he came across." Griffon must have seen the opportunity to score a couple points off his brother by mentioning Space Force's stalled advance down the Bloodstripe. Truth was the Empire hadn't stopped them. They had simply run out of gas.
"Mars didn't help. It was supposed to fall in a week and that damn Moff Hinter is still up on Olympus Mons putting up a fight going into the fifth month now." Cameron pointed out. "How many of your Magnificent transports have been diverted to bring more divisions into Mars, Senator?"
"One-third of the active transportation reserve of the Trade Federation is now involved in operations based solely in the Sol System. Akfar diverted a dozen divisions to Mars on your father's orders. Plus, we're moving a lot of people to Titan to help out our allies there." Buffett admitted.
"Well can you blame the President?" Finnigan asked. "Securing Mars is the most important goal of this war. Its recapture has been the focus of Earth for twenty-five years."
"It would go a lot faster if your friends in the First Order lent more of a hand than they have been." Buffett said.
Finnigan blushed. His involvement with Vala Ren was not widely known. His golfing party might be aware of it but there were several Secret Service agents within earshot as well their caddies and beyond them several members of the press with sophisticated sound equipment.
"The First Order crippled the Imperial Navy with its strike at Nal Kuat and in case you weren't aware, Senator, it was their Supreme Leader Ren who disabled the planetary shield at Mars which enabled our invasion."
Cameron took his shot, which caught an unfortunate gust of wind and hooked to the right of the fairway where it buried itself in a sand bunker. "From what I understand Akfar and Jethran have some sort of deal worked out. We get to keep everything we capture but we've got to act as bait. The Imps have still got three Star Destroyers that we know of and that big bastard our commandos took at the end of the last war. As soon as we draw them out the First Order's fleet comes in and smashes them and that's the end of the war. The First Order gets some choice planet of their own and we get to hang the Empress and rule the whole of the Orion Spur and then the Milky Way."
Finnigan knew more of the deal than the others. He knew of Jethran and General Crisis's designs on Nal Kuat as the preferred new home world of the First Order. His master, Vala Ren, had other plans. Plans of returning the 7th Fleet of Conquest to a place called Exegol. There, she had promised him, they would find the supreme Sith, Darth Sidious, who would teach Finnigan all the secrets of the Dark Side, so that he could return to Earth and control the Confederacy, the First Order Remnant, New Mandalore and whatever survived of the 2nd Galactic Empire. He would rule the Milky Way Galaxy, Vala Ren would rule the Home Galaxy, and Darth Sidious would rule both through the two of them. Oh, how father would be surprised, Finnigan relished the thought. Dr. Incite had always taken delight in the control he had held over his children. Finnigan would have to make the time to pay his dear father a visit one day and reveal to him just how far the tables had turned.
"It's a grand plan. But I was there when Jethran and Akfar were told by your father that they had a year to run rampant down the Bloodstripe Run towards Palpatine Prime. After that, it was anyone's guess how the war would shape up. We're closing in on the half year mark." Buffett warned as he teed up.
"We're building up at Kafrene Outpost and Hinter's on her last legs at Mars. I suspect the advance will resume in a month, maybe two." Cameron guessed. "Probably towards Jastawui, 'cause scuttlebutt is that's where the Imps' new Admiral is hiding the Ares."
"A Bothan colony world. Whatever a Bothan is. Crazy Imps. They may be subhumans, but you'd think that the Imperials would have enough pride in their species to know that giving whole worlds over to other aliens is disgusting." Griffon swore. Finnigan wondered what Griffon would think if he knew that Finnigan himself was a hybrid born of a non-Terran human and an Earth born woman. It would probably end their friendship right fast.
Finnigan knew the First Order was only half-trusted by the upper classes of the Confederacy since they were just as much aliens as their enemies in the Empire and New Mandalore. But he wondered what they would do if they found out that his master, Vala Ren, was a green skinned-tattooed alien called a Mirialan; a fact he had only learned recently during their gruesome fight against that mysterious Togruta Jedi at Amidala City. A Jedi who had left his Master wounded and forced her to retreat.
The conversation was interrupted by the twin engine roar of a large Razorback VTOL that slowly cruised over the golf course. A pair of Iroquois gunships provided escort for the transport craft as it slowly descended for a landing in the nearby parking lot of the facility. The news media clicked away on their cameras, capturing the word POCEN painted across the fuselage of the Razorback. Griffon shrugged and turned to his brother. "Dad's here."
"I can see that." Cameron replied. "Let's hurry up and finish this hole before he gets over here."
The party did just as the younger Harris suggested with Senator Buffet picking up a stroke on the two Presidential offspring and Finnigan getting a birdie.
A few minutes later, along the path leading back to the clubhouse, President Jonathon Harris, escorted by a rather large security detail, rolled up in a convoy of over twenty golf carts. President Harris dismounted from his cart and started heading up the small hill that contained the next hole's tee off. A caddy appeared, as if from thin air, carrying the President's clubs. The press corps, kept at a sizeable distance by the President's security team, shouted questions to the Confederate leader.
"Mr. President! Mr. President! How many more civilians will be relocated to our new colonies this spring?" The reporters called out to him.
"Can you elaborate on how our special relationship with our allies, the First Order, is holding up?"
"How long until the Empress throws in the towel?"
"When do you predict New Mandalore will capitulate and allow our peacekeepers in?"
"When do you predict Mars will be secure?" This last inquiry stopped the President in his tracks. It was no secret that the stalled capture of all of Mars was a sore subject. Three top generals had publicly lost their jobs over the escape of the 212th Legion to defensive positions atop Olympus Mons.
The President merely turned and waved at the press corps. "Thank you all for coming. We've got the Empire on the run."
Finnigan thought the rehearsed questions were stage-crafted nonsense. The reporters were merely chosen for their looks and pleasant voices, not their journalistic acumen. Their stories would all be written by the Ministry of Information in nearly identical tone and format and go out across the Earth in several dozen languages to please the three upper classes. Nobody cared about influencing the 4th classers now that the war was on. They merely needed to work or starve.
The President made a big show out of greeting his two sons. Remembering their stolen time on Mars during the last war he mentioned. "Bounty hunters aren't going to steal you two away this time around, boys."
"Mom got us through." Griffon said, perhaps resentful his father hadn't done more to get them back.
"She sends her love. She's in Beijing at the moment at the Colonization Summit." Harris turned to his youngest child. "Cam, good to have you back. Space Force is really shaping you up. We're going to have to spend some time together before you ship out for Akfar's summer offensive."
Cameron and Finnigan both cocked their heads slightly. It was the first time they had heard the stalled offensive would get underway again. Things at Kafrene Outpost must be building up faster than Finnigan knew of. He wondered if Master Ren and Admiral Jethran knew of the plans. He would have to ask next time he was called back to his master's side.
"Senator. How is retirement treating you?" The President greeted his old political ally with a hearty handshake. Then pulling in the elder statesman for a more candid comment. "Howard, you've got to get the Trade Federation off of Akfar's back about this convoy proposal. We don't have the warships available to run up and down the Bloodstripe Run and kick the Empire's front door in."
"Nearly half of Space Force is transport and construction vessels. Hell, Jonathon, we've only got a dozen fuel tankers out there. I should know. The Trade Federation built the damn fleet last year. We've got to give those spacemen of ours some protection."
"I know you can get this done for me, Howard. It's not like you have to debate this in a committee any more. Besides this isn't the Battle of the Atlantic, Senator. The Empire doesn't have any U-boats." Harris laughed at his own joke. Finnigan wanted to laugh for another reason, as he realized the President was no Winston Churchill.
"That we know of. They surprised Akfar at Ro-loo a couple of weeks ago." Cameron interjected.
"Space is a big place, son. Your Space Force can't be everywhere at once. Besides Ro-loo was a pinprick compared to what we've done to the Empire." Harris boasted and patted his son on the shoulder. "Good thing the Yangtze wasn't there or you would have wiped out the Impie task force single handedly."
"I think you have a lot more faith in the Revenge class corvettes than you rightfully should, Dad." Cameron replied.
"They won the last war for us." Harris declared with the old campaign lie that the last war had actually been won rather than fought to a draw. He was right in saying it had been Revenge-class corvettes that had ended the war, mainly the namesake of the class which had rammed the Super Star Destroyer Ares itself over Mars.
Finnigan was wondering how long it had been since anyone had had the guts to argue a point with the President when the leader of the Confederacy laid eyes upon him. "Incite, my boy. How have you been?"
Finnigan shook the President's offered hand. The President had a hell of a death grip for his age. "Doing great, Mr. President. The Guardians are doing everything they can to support the war effort."
"Splendid. I ran into your father. He's doing some cutting-edge research. Real war-winning strategies. He told me you had accompanied our friend, the Supreme Leader, up to Mars as some sort of Guardians of the Whills junior internship program." The President's mentioning of Finnigan's adoptive father was enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The memories of the cold, septic laboratories of Area 51 and the Doctor who held absolute power over all within them were best left buried.
"Yes, the Guardians are very interested in learning more about the mysteries of the Force and Grand Master Panda wanted some of his senior leadership to undertake a study with our allies. The First Order comes from a galaxy where Force use is more common than our own. In the spirit of friendship, Supreme Leader Ren allowed me to conduct an in-depth study over the past year." Finnigan replied.
"Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good gun at your side, kid." The President grinned that famous smile that was plastered all across the planet's news media. Finnigan felt a sudden desire to knock the older man's teeth out.
"You don't believe in the Force, do you?" Finnigan was always taken aback when someone didn't believe in the overwhelming evidence of the Force in the universe.
"Kid, I've flown from one side of this planet to the other. I've been to Luna and Mercury. I've seen a lot of strange stuff, but I've never seen anything to make me believe there's one all-powerful force controlling everything. There's no mystical energy field or man in the sky that controls my destiny." The President thumped his thumb to his chest to emphasis his backward belief.
"That may be. Sir. But without the Force the shield would still be up around Mars." Finnigan informed the President.
"So, the CIA and General Crisis of the First Order tell me. Vala Ren, huh?" The President rubbed his chin in doubt.
"It was a thing to behold, Mr. President."
"Oh, I'm sure. As soon as Mars is pacified, I intend to go up there on an inspection tour. I will have to check out this shield generator you two took down with the help of my SEaLs. But before that I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor." The President placed his hand on Finnigan's shoulder and dug his fingers into the young Force-user's shoulder blade. Finnigan resisted the urge to pull away. His father, Dr. Incite, had been just as passive aggressively domineering whenever he wanted something done.
"Of course, sir. The Guardians of the Whills are at the Confederacy's disposal."
"I am sure they are. However, this task is for you because of your personal connection with the Supreme Leader."
"Vala Ren might hear me out, sir, but I'm afraid she has her own mind towards performing favors or winning this war on our behalf." Finnigan responded, all the while trying to suppress his growing irritation. It was clear that the President had no deep respect for him, seeing Finnigan as nothing more than a messenger who had to be placated with pretty words. Perhaps it might suit his master's plans for him to be underestimated, but it stung his pride regardless.
"I get that impression from the First Order, as well. Though Jethran and Crisis seem amicable enough. No, I need you to lean on Ren about New Mandalore. See if she can order Admiral Jethran into launching an assault against them soon."
"I thought the situation with New Mandalore was well in hand." Griffon interrupted. "Though I can't recall the last time I heard anything about them on CNN."
"Has something gone wrong down south, Dad?" Cameron asked.
"Stiffer resistance than we anticipated is all. Some kind of new shield the Kiwis are using. Akfar and the Admirals in Sydney suggest that the First Order might have ship phasers large enough to bring it down." The President loosely explained to the gathered shock of the golf party. No wonder the news had been rather silent on the fighting in the southern hemisphere ever since the first days of the war.
"What would you have them do, Mr. President?" Finnigan asked.
"Have Jethran bash in that shield of theirs with his bigger ships. I will send in the Legions to occupy New Mandalore. If he does so, tell him I will support his plan to have the summer offensive launched up the Kuat Spur towards Nal Kuat, which can be occupied by the First Order's 23rd Legion, instead of opening the offensive coreward down the Bloodstripe Run toward Shilia and Judicar like Akfar wants to do." The President promised. Finnigan was well aware the First Order wanted a planet larger than Titan to establish themselves on and that their eyes had fallen on Nal Kuat, the home of the Imperial Fleet.
"Sounds reasonable, sir. I will talk with Supreme Leader Ren about the subject as soon as possible." Finnigan answered.
President Harris squeezed Finnigan's shoulder once more. "I know you will do your best, son. The whole Confederacy is counting on you."
The President waved over his caddy and grabbed a club. He laughed along with the golf party. "Now, I hope you fellas don't mind some real competition on the back nine."
The next couple hours were spent with a rather leisurely golf match. The drink cart was never far away and each golfer readily partook of several beers from the nearby Fat Tire Brewery. The President regaled them with stories about how the war was going and his plans for individual planets. Finnigan was surprised so many people, mostly 2nd classers, had already been sent off world and how many were waiting to ship out as soon as ships were available.
One did not simply excuse themselves from the President's company and after four months of victory against the Empire, President Harris was in a celebratory mood. He was especially enthusiastic about sharing drinks with his sons and hearing stories from the campaign along the Bloodstripe. The Yangtze may have been a support ship during the drive down the Gallivanter Run section of the super hyper-route but Cameron had seen plenty of action. His father was especially keen on the retelling of the Battle of Luna where two Star Destroyers had been destroyed in full view of the Earth.
It was well after sundown when Finnigan was finally able to excuse himself, citing Church business that he needed to attend to. He said his farewells and once again promised to speak with the First Order about supporting an attack on New Mandalore before the summer offensive up the Kuat Spur. Something Finnigan was positive the upper command of the First Order held little interest in. It didn't take long for his limousine to return him to his executive office high up in the church's corporate headquarters' top floors.
He didn't even bother to waste time changing out of his golf attire and into a suit before he activated the CS-Mark 17 imagecaster installed in the ceiling of his office. The Confederacy had its own holoprojectors but the hyperwave technology was still years behind what the Empire, the First Order and even New Mandalore produced. A delay of several hours could be expected with any signal sent out of the system, and even the President had to rely on First Order hand-me-downs or it would take a month for a message to reach Admiral Akfar at Kafrene Outpost. Only his connections as Vala Ren's apprentice allowed him access to the piece of high-tech equipment. As far as he was aware no one else in the Guardians of the Whills, not even the Grand Master, had such a sophisticated set up.
Finnigan took a knee in front of the area where the holoprojection typically appeared. Kneeling was still a strange sensation for an Earthling. Something that harkened back to a different age. Not even the President, so far as Finnigan knew, had people bow to him. Maybe the last king of England, the one who blew himself up, had his subjects do stuff like this, but it was something that simply wasn't done as an Earthling.
As a Sith, however, a different way of life was to be expected.
The helmeted head and shoulders of the Supreme Leader, Vala Ren, quickly materialized into a blue-hued hologram that towered over the kneeling Finnigan. "Greetings, my master."
"I sense you are troubled, apprentice. Perhaps you have felt the new disturbance in the Force as I have." Vala Ren did not waste time on greetings or niceties. The Dark Side had removed all such sympathies from her. Finnigan wondered what she had been like before she had become a Knight of Ren. He had seen a brief glimpse of her face on Mars and felt the intense hatred pulsating off his master in waves when she had faced off against that Togruta Jedi on a bridge in Amidala City.
"Something is amiss, but I could not decipher its meaning." Finnigan admitted.
"The Jedi are growing stronger and are preparing to face us. That Jedi that escaped us has informed her pathetic Grand Master of our existence. As our fleet has thrown the Imperial Fleet off balance with our opening attacks, we had done the same with the Jedi of Wadarae."
"Had, master? Are you suggesting the Jedi have found their footing once again?"
"The recent intelligence from our allies suggests that it is so. Jedi have facilitated evacuations of dozens of worlds and moons along the Bloodstripe Run in a clearly coordinated campaign to rob the Confederacy and the First Order of slave labor for our recent conquests. If they are capable of doing this then they are surely ready to counter us."
"But you said the Jedi hadn't dared face a Sith since Endor. Nearly thirty years ago."
"In a different galaxy all together, as was part of the true Emperor's plan to cull his weak apprentice. He calls for us to return to him still at Exegol."
"Then we shall endeavor to do so, master."
"We shall have to prove ourselves stronger than the local Jedi of this galaxy. Only by destroying all the Jedi of the Wadarae Temple can we prove ourselves worthy to stand at Sidious's side." Vala Ren explained. "I vow to personally end the life of that Jedi who wounded me on Mars."
"Surely, she's still there. 2nd Fleet has maintained the blockade of the red planet for four months and there have been no reported escapes since a few days after we landed there. Reports from the front line have mentioned her presence on Olympus Mons several times." Finnigan informed his teacher.
"General Crisis has reported that the Stormtroopers atop that volcano will surrender soon enough. When they do, they will flush her out and you and I will be there to meet her."
"At last, we will have our revenge." Finnigan replied gleefully. He hadn't known of the Jedi's true nature for long but ever since he had steeped himself in Ren's Dark Side tutelage his loathing for them and their inevitable opposition to his own acquisition of power had only grown.
"A start. I suspect our quest won't be complete until we see the Temple on Wadarae burn and Grand Master Ti lies dead at our feet."
"May it be as you say." Finnigan vowed.
"I suspect that is the reason we are here. I have been making some inquiries into the material I retrieved from Wayland before our accidental jump into your galaxy."
"Have you found anything we could use to return to Sidious?" Finnigan asked, not sure why he would want to meet the figure at the top of the Sith hierarchy. Vala Ren certainly seemed to worship the guy.
"I am a warrior, not a scholar, but I have made some headway during my recovery from the Jedi's wound. Tell me, have you heard of Lyr Farseeker?"
"I have not, master." Finnigan could not lie as Vala Ren would have felt the deceit. He really hadn't heard the name before.
"Within the catalog of material from Wayland were several scraps of copies of the Jedi Sacred texts, written by Farseeker and a few others and placed into eight volumes of vile Jedi lore. The passages I was able to decipher made mention of the Chain World Theorem."
"Once again, master, you have me at a loss." Finnigan urged his teacher to divulge more information.
"These passages were among the items the returned Emperor Palpatine prioritized the 7th Fleet of Conquest to retrieve. So much so that he had Kylo Ren attach me, a Knight of Ren, to the mission given to Admiral Jethran's fleet."
"If its value was so high for Sidious then it must be important to all Force-users." Finnigan suggested.
"Perhaps."
"But what is this Chain Worlds Theorem?"
"A concept I have only been given a glimpse of through my study of the Wayland artifacts. In a way it is a whisper of a youngling's fairy tale." Vala Ren was not often poetic in her descriptions of anything, which kept Finnigan silent for several seconds, encouraging Vala Ren to continue. "It is a suggestion of a Vengeance Scatter."
"A Vengeance Scatter, my master?" Finnigan was even more confused.
"There has long been a wisp of a rumor of a World Between Worlds. Pathways that link time and space." Vala Ren explained.
"Amazing." Finnigan still didn't understand but he got the impression that neither did Vala Ren. "Is this how the 7th Fleet of Conquest arrived here in the Milky Way?"
"Jethran's engineers hypothesize it was the presence of a gravitic polarization beam that we brought aboard one of our Star Destroyers from Wayland. As if the will of the Force would be dictated by technological marvels. Foolishness." Vala Ren dismissed the possibility. Since Finnigan had no idea what a gravitic polarization beam did he accepted his master's explanation.
"Simpletons are the same wherever they come from it seems. The Guardians of the Whills have little true understanding of the Force they worship."
"They serve a purpose. In their own way they are facilitating the rise of the Sith in this galaxy." Vala Ren reminded him. "They shall be the pawns that sow the true faith down the laughable Bloodstripe Run."
Finnigan hid a small grin. His master could hardly bring herself to voice the name of the Empire here in the Milky Way. Sometimes she would name it the False Empire or the Empire of Traitors, but never once had she hinted that it could be the legitimate heir of Emperor Palpatine despite the moniker they had given to their capital planet. After their confrontation on Mars with the young Jedi warrior Finnigan wondered if Vala's focus had slipped from wrecking the false Empire to destroying the Togruta Jedi in particular. What had transpired in her past to make Vala hate such a particular type of Jedi?
"When the light is extinguished then nothing will be left but the dark." Finnigan repeated an old Sith mantra.
"Very good apprentice. It is that dedication to the Dark Side which we need to put towards our study of this World Between Worlds. I believe it will be the key to returning to our true Emperor's service."
Once again, Finnigan had no great desire to meet this Palpatine, but if this Sith Lord was part of the path he needed to follow to ultimate power within the Confederacy, then he would have to bear it. "I'm ready to learn more, master."
"Then focus with me and together we shall master the Dark Side." Vala Ren ordered Finnigan to assume their meditative positions. The day before they had practiced Shadow Vision, which to Finnigan had been like eating a million carrots after what it did for his vision.
"You have lost your Force-blessed mind!" A voice called out from the entrance to the office. Finnigan's long office was situated in a depressed floor with winding twin stairways arranged on the far side leading up to the entrance atrium. At the doorway, standing with his hands gripping the railing of the balcony in rage was Grand Master Tony Stoen.
Vala Ren's hologram merely looked in the Grand Master's direction but chose to remain silent. Finnigan, for his part, stayed in the kneeling position but turned his head to look at his unexpected visitor.
Grand Master Stoen turned and started to slowly walk down the left staircase to the main office floor. He pointed an accusatory finger towards Finnigan. "I should have known it was you. But I didn't want to believe it was possible. Temple Security has been intercepting strange electronic signals emanating for months from this location. I told them I would get to the bottom of this. But how? How could you forsake our teachings so readily Finnigan?"
"Grand Master Stoen, I take it you heard about the President's joining of my game this afternoon. I must say you're here sooner than expected." Finnigan greeted the livid Grand Master. He had been found out. What the Guardians would surely see as an unholy alliance in the study of the Dark Side would be laid bare if the Grand Master were to gain access to the hundreds of hours of communication between Vala Ren and himself. No great Ashla or Jedi had come to Earth's aid, as the Guardians had been led to believe, but instead, the ancient immortal enemy of the Light Side, the Sith, had set deep roots into the vulnerable Earth.
Grand Master Stoen reached the bottom of the stairs. He was visibly shaking in rage. Finnigan could feel it seeping from the old wrestler's pores. Rage...and betrayal. "In the name of the Guardians of the Whills, of the Great Ashla and the Universal Force. Hell, in the name of the Confederacy of Earth Nations and President Harris, I disavow you and shall have you excommunicated from the Church. And I will be notifying the CIA. You will be placed under arrest for treason, Youth Leader."
Finnigan bared his teeth and glared at the Grand Master. At that moment something within Finnigan snapped. Of all the people he had known Tony Stoen was the only person to ever treat Finnigan as an equal. He had seen Finnigan for what he was and accepted him. Not even the Harris brothers could claim to be as close to him as the old wrestler was to Fininigan. And yet, here was the only man who had ever showed him unconditional kindness after the hellish upbringing his father had inflicted upon him, telling him what he could and could not do. Holding him down. Attempting to deter Finnigan from acquiring his birthright. How dare this old fool, who knew nothing of the Force, dictate to him what he could or could not do?
His life had been wasted up until recently under the thumb of Dr. Incite. Finnigan had wallowed for too long in a state of weak subservience. The Church had given him wealth and fame, but that had been all to fleeting. Did Stoen not see that the Force had a great destiny laid out for him? It would be a sin not to follow the will of the Force, whether it be a light path or a dark one. "Are you threatening me, Grand Master?"
"The President will decide your fate." Stoen declared with a stony finality. His faith in the President was misplaced, or had the Grand Master not noticed the two-meter-tall floating head in the room. Did he really think the Guardians of the Whills, a church that served a mere fraction of the Confederate population, was anywhere near as important at this moment in history as the Confederacy's alliance with the First Order? The only reason the Guardians had been tolerated was because of the Harris brothers' public support for them. The President himself had no reverence for the Force, he had told Finnigan as much. He wouldn't care or even notice if his allies were of the Light or the Dark. All that mattered to Jonathon Harris was the destruction of his enemies. And as long as the First Order supported him in his efforts, he would choose them over any who stood in the path of his revenge against the Empire.
"The President does as we tell him." Finnigan snarled.
"Not yet." Stoen snapped.
Finnigan slowly rose to his feet. His right hand secretly loosened the sheath hidden beneath his clothes and strapped to his back. The motion released the horseman's pick made of light-saber resistant phrik his real master had gifted him. It slid down behind his arm and into his palm unbeknownst to the Grand Master.
He flicked it into his hand with a snap of his wrist. "It's treason then."
Stoen must have sensed the danger he suddenly found himself in. He had come to the Youth Leader's office alone, probably without even telling his secretary or security where he was going in his eagerness to expose the Church's possible leak and once again be the hero.
He may have been a hero once. A man who fought alongside the great General Boston. A man touched by Grand Master Ashla herself at the Battle of the Crater. But he was nothing compared to the fledgling Sith Lord who suddenly hurled across the room in a twirling spin that resembled a howling tornado that charged horizontally into the Grand Master before he could start his retreat back up the stairs.
Finnigan drove his open fist into the bigger man's chest. Age had slowed the old wrestler, but Panda could still take a punch. He staggered back only half a meter before his left foot caught the bottom step behind him. He toppled backwards and sprawled out across the steps. Finnigan stood over him with his horse pick club in his hand.
The Grand Master raised his hands to deflect the blow that was sure to come. "Don't kill me. I … I … I'm weak, I'm … I'm too weak."
"Grand Master Stoen, you want to take a seat and listen." Vala Ren's voice seemed to fill the room. It boomed and echoed around the large office. It swirled and crackled with Dark Side energy. Finnigan, himself, felt a pull to sit down and listen despite his master not directing the affect-mind command at him.
"I want to sit down and listen." Stoen rose from the stairs and shakily stumbled across the room to a large Berkshire couch where he took a seat and stared patiently at the two dark-siders.
"How long will he be like that?" Finnigan asked, only faintly aware of Force Persuasion through his own flirtations with the power before accepting Vala Ren's tutelage.
"I have only managed Alter Mind for a few short hours. After that he will regain control of his faculties and once again be a problem." Finnigan raised an eyebrow. Had his master revealed her own shortcomings and lack of ability? He had seen some of the Sith materials she hoarded for the Emperor from his vault on Wayland. He had learned Dominate Mind was a more powerful form of Force Persuasion than Alter Mind. Was his master incapable of using that technique? Could he master it without her? And what would happen between them when he surpassed his master's skills?
"What should I do with him? We can't keep warping his mind around the clock." Finnigan asked looking down at the pitiful man the Grand Master had become. Panda had once been the lighthouse in the storm that had been Finnigan's life after fleeing the machinations of his father. Now after slightly more than a year of study under the Sith the man who led the church was a former shell of himself under their power and control.
"He endangers our concealment. The Jedi are now surely aware of the threat we embody to them. The Confederacy cannot do the same." Vala Ren reasoned. "I will leave it to you to dispose of this problem."
"I can't just 'dispose' of him. Panda is a celebrity. He's the spiritual leader of the top two classes of the Confederacy and a good percentage of the 3rd classers as well, at least the ones that know what's good for them."
"A mockery of a faith that Earth found while grasping in the dark after the Empire ravaged their world. It has no truth so it has no substance." Vala Ren dismissed his former faith with a wave of her hand.
"That may be but there is no denial they are a powerful organization within your top ally. The murder of the Grand Master could shake the Confederacy to its core."
"Will no one rid us of this turbulent priest?" Vala Ren asked.
"I can control an investigation within the Church. If we do this . . . thing." Finnigan admitted to himself what must be done to protect the secret of the Sith and the truth of the unholy union behind the Grand Alliance of the First Order and the Confederacy of Earth Nations.
"We will do nothing. This is something you must do to take the next step into the greater Dark Side." Vala Ren instructed.
"The Church will not be enough. We don't control the media or the police. Only the President has the power to silence them now that the Senate has been dismissed." Finnigan deduced.
"President Harris's greatest interest is in keeping our alliance together to punish the false Empire. I can foresee him performing this favor to me, for I am the Supreme Leader." Finnigan halted his response which Vala Ren must have detected. "Do you foresee a problem with his involvement, apprentice?"
"The President spoke to me today. He needs a favor from you in return." Finnigan said.
"What is it with this endless tediousness of your planetary brethren, apprentice? It's preternaturally annoying. What does he want?" Vala Ren huffed.
"He's concerned about the war with New Mandalore . . ." Finnigan began.
"The rebel Mandalorians are of little concern to the First Order inside their enclave."
"Well, they're an affront to the entire Confederacy, living on the same planet as us. It's a particular insult to the President since he's the Commander-in-Chief and lost New Zealand in the last war."
"And I am to reason he needs our assistance in subduing these Earth rebels. We already loaned some bomber units during the initial attack on the Mandalorian enclave. General Crisis was particularly upset that we lost a handful of attack craft. Since then, we've left things in the Confederacy's hands." Vala Ren explained, expressing the First Order's nonchalant opinion of the junior of their combined enemies.
"They've proven more of a challenge than was originally predicted before the fighting started. I don't know all the details but I've heard rumors that multiple attacks have failed. You can't find anything about it on the news or internet which in itself should be evidence our military is hiding something."
"So, if I order Admiral Jethran to loan Harris a few Star Destroyers he can assist us with our little problem here." Vala Ren turned and faced the Grand Master. Finnigan could feel the glare through her helmeted façade.
"He would prefer it if you can attack New Mandalore before Admiral Akfar kicks off the second push coreward from Kafrene Outpost. I don't know when it will happen but I'm assuming soon." Finnigan tried to explain.
"I know everything about this offensive he has planned. He will be the bait that brings the Empress's scum out to be destroyed once and for all." Vala Ren turned back to Finnigan and stared at him in silence for several seconds. "Now that that is settled are you ready to do what must be done?"
Finnigan turned to face the Grand Master. He looked completely harmless but if he broke Vala Ren's Alter Mind he would be leading the largest lynch mob the Earth had ever seen and aiming it straight towards the two aspiring Sith Lords. All to protect his precious Ashla. A Jedi that for all intents and purposes probably didn't even remember him and would have been insulted and mortified by the religion he had built up around her legend.
It was time to put away childish things and become a full-fledged Sith Lord. Finnigan knew in his heart that the only path to true mastery of his own destiny was through destroying the only person who had ever shown any kindness to him without any thought of what he might gain in turn. Kindness was of the light, and the light needed to be extinguished to fully embrace the Dark Side. Finnigan raised his hand towards the helpless Grand Master. Panda stared back at him with trusting, unblinking eyes.
"Don't." Vala Ren commanded. "You have already mastered the Grip of the Force. Throttling this man is nothing. You must give in fully to the Dark Side to tap its full potential. Reach out your hand and focus your anger. Let the Dark Side flow through you."
"Something's happening." Finnigan could feel a crackle in the air and a tingling in his skin as he let his anger build. A sharp burning sensation started to rise in his fingertips.
"Give in to your anger. Turn it into hate and unleash the power you so desperately seek." Vala Ren commanded.
Finnigan did just that. Panda was a blockage on his path to greatness. A blockage that needed to be removed. Force damn him, he swore to himself. His rage burned inside him, eager to pour forth. And then it did.
Blueish-purple lightning arced from Finnigan's fingers. It raced in a flash to connect with the Grand Master's flesh. Panda howled in pain. The searing agony snapping Vala Ren's Alter Mind.
The smell of cooking meat filled the office. Panda flopped off the couch and fell to his knees on the floor. Finnigan could see that his attack was burning and warping the Grand Master's face.
Grand Master Stoen managed to look up at his tormentor one last time and utter, "Why?"
Finnigan poured on the chain lightning. He had no idea how much would be enough to kill a man. He kept reminding himself over and over that Panda was a threat to all that the Sith were building and he needed to be stopped.
Panda screamed. "I am one with the Force and the Force is with me!"
With almost inhuman strength, as if he were channeling the Light Side itself or his great love for the Great Ashla, Panda climbed to his feet. With one final howl he turned towards the glass doorways that led to the balcony outside. His clothes started to burst into flame as he fled the young Sith Lord's attack. The big man smashed through the glass doors like a bull running through a child's Lego set. Shards of glass rippled in every direction as Finnigan's lightning attack followed the Grand Master out onto the balcony outside. The sparkling lights of Confederate Center, ignorant of war-time blackout conditions, lay spread out before Panda. The railing posed little obstacle to the pain driven madness of the Grand Master. He hurled himself over the balcony's edge in one final act of defiance of the Dark Side before his fiery body plummeted forty stories to the well-traveled streets below.
Finnigan rushed outside to the balcony. His hands still slowly pulsed with dissipating electricity. He peered over the edge and glimpsed the burning body lying far below. There would be little concealment of this now.
"We will have to act fast to get the President involved." Vala Ren said from the interior of the office. "I shall make the arrangements immediately with a call to his offices."
"As you say, master." Finnigan muttered softly. He couldn't take his eyes off of Panda's body. People down on the street were already rushing to the scene. He could see that several of them were Temple security and were looking upwards to see where Panda's body had fallen from. Hopefully they wouldn't be able to recognize the corpse in the state Finnigan had left it in with his atrocious attack.
"I leave you to control our enemies. Remember, now is not the time for the Sith to be revealed to the Confederacy." Vala Ren's visage disappeared as she cut the feed from Titan.
Sirens started to rise from a few blocks away as police and medical teams were called to the Temple of the Guardians of the Whills. Finnigan looked down at the man who had once offered him a home and safety. But safety was not a path to glory and power. A Sith did not seek the safest path. Yet, it pained him to have killed Panda. He had betrayed his only true friend since he had left Area 51.
"I should feel invincible right now. As strong as steel." He whispered to himself as he glanced at his hands. "This is a triumph. I felt the power coursing through my hands just a moment ago. More power than I could have possibly imagined. It felt so good. But where has it gone? Why? Why do I feel so brittle, so hollow, right now?"
For a moment he thought of that alien girl on the bridge on Mars. He looked towards the moonlit Rocky Mountains towering over the lights and buildings of Confederate Center. A single red light hung in the night sky indicating the nearby embattled world.
"What have I done?"
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Up Next- The Ghost on the Mountain