Episode VII
SHADOW OF THE STRANGER
No one saw it enter normal space.
No device, no ship, no observatory saw it.
No sensor detected its presence, despite it spitting out so many forms of energy and radiation.
No one saw that this thing was a ship made to look like a cube; an efficiently made ship, but ugly and lacking in any aesthetic. It was a large ship, larger than an old Star Destroyer from Palpatine's day. It possessed a volume of twenty seven cubic kilometers. On a good day, the cube would span some three thousand meters on every side. This was not a good day. It was made to look like a cube, but chunks of it were missing with deep craters deforming every side; the transition to normal space had damaged it. Perhaps it had been damaged before, when it was beyond space and time.
No one saw that it had appeared dangerously close to two stars that spun around a shared center of mass.
No one saw the broken cube of a ship try to correct its course. But the gravitation pull of the twin stars was too great, and the cube was too broken to put up a fight. Had it been just one star, the cube might have survived.
Possibly.
Possibly not. It didn't really matter anymore.
No one saw the twin stars drawing the cube towards them.
No one saw the effort expended. If anyone ever witnessed this spectacle, they would see how hard the vessel was struggling to survive. Sensors would see the energy being spent trying to keep the cube intact.
No one watched.
No one watched as the cube was finally destroyed, torn apart into many smaller pieces, and most of what remained falling into the stars, and being consumed by their nuclear flame.
No one saw that there was an exception; a piece of it was hurled away, towards a desert planet that orbited both stars.
Against all of the odds, 36 of 72 had survived the crash. Already, the silence in its mind was driving it insane.
A spark of its old individuality seemed to be returning. It was painful; 36 of 72 did not wish to remember its existence before the collective. But this spark did serve to alert the drone of one unavoidable fact that was concealed from the Collective: the Borg were weaker since the Queen's demise and her replacement by the Great Voice. Everything was slower; the voices of the collective were harder to hear and understand.
Once more, its previous individuality continued to worm its way into its very being. The Great Voice had given commands to them; commands which lacked logic. It told the Borg to cooperate with others instead of assimilating them.
If that wasn't illogical enough, the Great Voice decided to merge Borg drones with others, not in a manner acceptable to the collective. This was followed with the order for an experimental raid into the Central Galaxy.
The collective had made such tentative forays into far space many times before, but this was more grandiose than anything the Borg had ever done. There were too many ships, were only two cubes would have sufficed. It was wasteful.
The Great Voice did not seem concerned with how its resources were spent.
In a flash of realization, 36 of 72 came to the conclusion that the Great Voice was not good for the Borg. It would have to form a new collective free from the Great Voice's damaging influence.
There was something that was far worse, and 36 of 72 only realized this just then. Lurking in the shadow of the Great Voice, there were traces of a Lesser Voice. From time to time, the members of the collective could hear the Lesser Voice's little whispers, but for whatever reason, did not feel compelled to reveal this information to the Great Voice. It was apparent, judging by the way in which the Great Voice conducted itself, that this Lesser Voice was unknown to its superior. It was perhaps a parasitic entity, which had latched on to the Greater Voice.
Slowly, 36 of 72 stood up and began to leave the chunk within which it had arrived on this planet, abandoning the useless remains of the others. The traces of its old individuality lamented this. It would have to erase that part of itself. It needed a new Collective. A new Queen.
With a new Queen, the drone's revelation could lead to a plan. The Great Voice could be defeated with the assistance of the Lesser Voice. All that was needed was a Queen for coordination.
At last, 36 of 72 managed to leave the discarded part of the cube. It took some effort. The sole door that existed was stuck, and the drone had to exert too much strength to pry it open.
The light was nearly blinding. The lone drone recalled that this system was a binary star system, with both stars positioned in relation to this planet in such a way as to shower it in an oppressive light. Its ocular lenses adapted accordingly.
Once the drone recovered its vision, it saw a sea of endless sand. If it were itself, the drone would have hated the sight. Sand was coarse, rough and irritating – and sand always got everywhere.
What was more distressing was the seeming emptiness before it. The drone designated 36 of 72 had hoped to rebuild a collective and find a Queen, but this would be challenging. Nonetheless, there was hope. This planet did harbor intelligent life. The technological chatter was already reaching all of the drone's inorganic senses. If only the nearest source of a decent population wasn't so far away, and the drone itself wasn't so weak…
It was at that moment that 36 of 72 detected someone approaching. This was not some wild animal, but a creature of some intelligence.
Galeed Hett's thoughts were becoming less conflicted. He knew that he was treading the wrong path. He knew he had to change his ways.
Years ago, he had been on the right path. He was going to be a Jedi, like his father before him. Sadly, he seemed to be too much like his father, or at least the way his mother described him. An angry man who always held a grudge, who was always looking for a fight.
Galeed was just like his old man.
Whoever the old man was. Galeed had never met the man, and didn't even know if he was either dead or alive. All he had was his mother's stories concerning him. They had been enough however, to influence young Galeed's behavior. His mother had always spoke about the man with a big smile on her face; she loved him and if he had wronged her in any way, she had forgiven him. Galeed had grown up wanting to emulate the man.
It would lead to one disaster after the other. He had a chance to be a Jedi of the new Order the famed Luke Skywalker had been forming. He was there with the other students, learning how to be a guardian of the light against the dark. Statements like that one had never made much sense to young Galeed. Through Anikin's sacrifice and Luke's actions, balance had been brought to the Force. The young man had reckoned then that there was no need to fear the dark. Certainly not in the way Luke Skywalker feared.
But evil did still exist. And one could still traverse a dark path. The difference from before was that the Dark Side was no longer there to distort your thoughts; if you were evil, it was your own damned fault.
Galeed was well aware of this. Ever since he left the Jedi Order of his own free will, he had made one mistake after the other. The latest was becoming a crime boss in his native Tatooine. He was happy for a while.
Such happiness was hollow. Even with the Dark Side no longer hanging over the heads of those strong in the Force, the effects of living such a lifestyle remained. He wanted and he clutched, but it all was so fleeting.
Receiving his mother's last message, years after her death was what woke him from his daze. It was unbelievable that the recording had been forgotten and discarded by a careless courier, only to be found when Galeed was beginning to have second thoughts.
The Force was giving Galeed an important message. He had to go back to what he was when he was with the New Jedi Order.
He felt an odd stirring in the Force. He couldn't figure out what it meant. Galeed was still trying to understand the Force's message when he saw the massive ball of flame fall down from the sky to impact upon the course sands of Tatooine.
Galeed barely avoided falling down from the tremors. Dunes flattened and the sand was tossed around by a sudden gale of wind. Galeed felt his gut tighten. He tried to remember what Master Skywalker had told him about the premonitions offered by the Force, but the memory was too hazy now. Perhaps it was a consequence of his ill-begotten living. Perhaps his misdeeds had clouded his ability to read the Force.
The former padawan closed his eyes. He then realized that he had to walk towards the fallen object. Orbital stations and ships may have already spotted and recorded whatever had entered Tatooine's atmosphere, but Galeed knew he should be the first one there.
He was on foot, but the journey itself couldn't have been more than half an hour. Galeed couldn't have missed the great object sticking out of the desert. The surrounding sand had been melted into multi-colored glass while there were still some flames here and there.
Galeed's attention however, went immediately to the individual standing some feet away from the misshapen, charred chunk of technology jutting out of the desert.
There was something dreadfully wrong with the individual. Its appearance alone would have had anyone turn heel and run. It looked human, but genderless, with numerous mechanical components grafted upon its body in a most ugly manner.
However, Galeed Hett was not guided by sight alone. The Force still held some influence. He could feel that something was wrong.
This was his chance to do some good. Galeed Hett stepped forward.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
The only response he got was a stabbing sensation in his neck. A second later, the Force was felt more faintly, and Galeed realized that he had misread what it had been trying to tell him.
Snoke looked out the viewport of his tower, at the great belt of stars that stretched out to infinity. Those stars held significance. As the Supreme Leader of the First Order, he had no doubt about that. He could feel the dark presence reaching out and approaching.
He considered allowing it to grab him. He could align himself with it, and gain power.
This was a foolish thing to believe, Snoke knew that much. Such power did not share, and Snoke could not kneel.
With a deep breath, the Supreme Leader of the First Order closed his eyes.
He needed to see what could not be seen with eyes alone.
A vision came to him. Snoke saw the third Death Star – his Death Star – approaching a planet of purple headed fools. With great satisfaction, he saw the mighty superlaser of Palpatine's terrible weapon – now his terrible weapon – leave the concave dish of the massive satellite, to impact against the planet. He saw the faces of the purple and pink headed buffoons change from expressions of bliss, to horror. He saw acts of immense evil being committed against each other before the beam hit the planet's surface. Snoke was almost sorry to see the planet destroyed; that moment of collective wickedness was so delightful to watch.
Snoke's vision was interrupted by a loud beep coming out of the communicator imbedded into the armrest of his throne. He scowled, and placed his fingers on the controls.
"You have interrupted my meditation," he said, not bothering to lower his head to talk into the speaker, allowing his displeasure to escape through the tone and sound of his voice.
The response was appropriately timorous.
"Your dinner is ready, my lord," said the man on the other side of the line, his voice shaking as each word came out. That fear was pleasing enough for Snoke to let the matter drop.
The fear he could feel was so delicious. It was also so overwhelming. Greater than it usually was. That did elicit some consideration – but not in excess.
Such increase in fear was understandable, if, to a degree, aggravating. Just a few years before, the First Order was a force to be reckoned with within the Remnant. That ended when the Crimson Empire began its expansion. Little by little, worlds belonging to the First Order were snatched away, conquered with humiliating ease. Snoke cursed those that served him for their cowardice and stupidity.
The same thing would happen over and over. Snoke would chose a lieutenant, said lieutenant would make a mistake which Snoke would have to publicly punish, and then the lieutenant would betray him. There was no making sense of it.
Finally, the First Order was reduced to possessing one heliosphere, with only one planet that was worth anything: Exegol.
An unexpectedly happy accident.
Exegol, it turned out, was worth a lot. It was here that Palpatine had ordered the construction of a third Death Star – a twin to the one that was later destroyed over the Sanctuary Moon of Endor.
With a Death Star, the First Order could – and would – rise again.
Snoke was sure that the cowardly underlings which crawled beneath his feet were terrified by the counter-offensive – afraid of being beaten again by the Crimson Empire. They did not possess his foresight; they did not see that success was so near.
He certainly felt no fear. He was presently within the imperial suite within the Death Star, reserved for Palpatine himself, and he could feel the victory, the triumph and the power.
He had never felt so much power. Never in all his centuries of life; certainly not as a failed apprentice to a Sith Lord. He wished that the old cadaver was still alive so that he could rub his power in his face.
A pity someone else did him in.
So many decades, hiding his existence from the Sith, from the lineage he could not be a part of. This was his vengeance.
The blastdoor that lead to suite opened. Snoke adjusted his golden robe, but remained seated on his throne.
Two robed figures entered, carrying with them a hovering table that was immensely huge – appropriate, given the size of the man eating the dinner. Upon that table was the Supreme Leader's dinner, which possessed a size that was proportional with the table. The plate cover which concealed Snoke's meal was enormous – large enough to cover two men standing on their feet.
Snoke inhaled the air so he could get a whiff of his dinner.
There was no scent.
Snoke's eyes narrowed. He raised his hand.
Before anything could be accomplished, the cover suddenly flew off the plate. Darth Krayt himself was standing on top of the empty plate, light saber ignited.
Snoke was fast enough to raise his hand and shoot out his lightning at the Dark Lord.
Krayt was calm; the expression on his face was stern and focused, tinted with simmering rage. He held up his lightsaber, and blocked the bolt of lightning with it. He quickly redirected the bolt at Snoke.
The First Order's Supreme Leader stopped shooting lightning from his hand and jumped his gigantic form off the throne he was seated on. It was wasted effort. A second later, other bolts of lightning came at him, connecting with his flesh and burning it. The two robed servants, were robed no longer, revealing two Sith Acolytes with their skin bearing the black markings of the One Sith.
Snoke collapsed on the ground, a foot away from his throne.
He looked at the acolytes of the One Sith and amidst all of the pain, he raised his hand to fire back at them. He yelled at them, yelled in anger and in pain.
Krayt was on him in an instant. Snoke was a giant, but his arm could still be cut by a lightsaber, and that was what happened. With another swipe, Krayt cut the other arm off.
Two more swipes and his legs were gone.
Snoke groaned and mumbled. He turned his head to look at Krayt, who stood over him, the crimson blade of his weapons still ignited.
"Do you still wish to be Carnor Jax's dog? Join me, and we can take the Galaxy," Snoke said. He was angry, but now he was also fearful. If he could seduce Krayt away from Jax, perhaps he could survive this.
Armless and legless as he now was, he still had a chance.
"Carnor Jax is dead," Krayt said matter-of-factly. "The Death Star is now mine. Did you not see this happen? I was told you could see into the future."
Snoke groaned and looked at Krayt in disbelief.
"Jax is dead?" he asked, befuddled. He had not seen this.
Krayt did not respond. Instead, he raised his lightsaber, and brought it back down. Snoke at least managed to see the crimson blade before it cut his head in half.
Old and cantankerous Fedjer Joss looked at the price tag for the bottle of a gallon of water. His bushy eyebrows twitched; his neatly shaved upper lip curled upwards to rub against the bottom part of his long nose. His brow then furled.
Fedjer Joss was clearly not happy.
No one in Mos Espa was happy. An entire group of men harvesting sand whales had suddenly disappeared from their station, and that was leaving everyone in the city on edge. Crotchety Fedjer Joss didn't care about that; he had more immediate and personal concerns.
Then again, no one was really talking about those mysterious vanishings.
"What in the blazes is this?" he asked with that harsh voice of his. It was said that he had once had a lovely singing voice, but the sands of Tatooine – coarse, rough, and irritating and with a nasty habit of getting everywhere – had destroyed his vocal chords over the years.
Dauvin Loneozner didn't know what to tell the old man. He was right. The price shouldn't have gone up. But there was really no choice in the matter.
"Mr. Joss, this isn't something we can help," the young man nervously said. "You know about the Mods…"
"To hell with them! Are they the ones selling the water?" the old man peevishly said.
"They're the ones stealing it!"
Fedjer Joss and Dauvin turned their heads. Dauvin smiled.
Zallite Peel stood there, leaning against the side of the entrance.
She was the loveliest girl in the universe, as far as Dauvin was concerned.
"Fedje, you know that the Mods are extorting us and taking the water we have," she explained to the old man. "We also have to make ends meet; otherwise we won't be here to provide you with the water in the first place. Besides, look at the price. Is the rise that steep?"
"I don't like it," the old man said.
"Neither do we, but as long as the Mods are around, it's something that we will have to live with," Zallite answered.
Fedjer Joss banged his fist against the counter, startling Dauvin just a bit. The old man's head was still turned towards the daughter of Lortha Peel.
"Can't you hire a bounty hunter? Muscle?" he asked.
The door leading into the water shop's interior opened. Lortha Peel walked in. The man was so thin that there didn't seem to be any fat between his skin and bones. His clothes, though clean, were the sort one could by cheaply; or the sort that could be made at home with simple machines. Yet in spite of the man's humble appearance, there was a glitter in his eye that made people listen to him.
"What's this talk about bounty hunters?" he asked, looking at Dauvin, then Zallite, and finally at Fedjer. "Are you trying to start something Fedje?"
"I'd like for the water prices to go back to what they were before," old Fedjer said. "Why aren't you hiring bounty hunters to deal with the Mods?"
"Because that would be stupid," Lortha replied, his voice tired. One could hear the frustration in his voice, but it wasn't directed at Fedjer. "A bounty hunter – a good one – would cost me an arm and a leg. And that wouldn't mean he or she would be of any use either. Do you know who leads the Mods? It ain't that low-life Skad. He's just there for show. The real leader is one of those Sith or Dark Jedi. I saw him cut down one bounty hunter. And the bounty hunter he doesn't cut down is bought off and used against whomever hired the bounty hunter."
"So you're just going to do nothing?" old Fedjer asked.
There was a moment of silence. Lortha took a deep breath.
"If things get bad enough, I'll move," Lortha said. Dauvin could see Zallite's face drop. "I can't keep overcharging my customers."
"And you can't give us water if you're gone," said Fedjer.
"There's no magic solution Fedje," said Lortha.
The too familiar sound of the Mods vehicles was heard, growing louder with each microsecond, until it was a high-pitched whine.
Dauvin could see them out the window of the shop, parking their candy-colored and polished speeders on the other side of the street. A lot of work must have gone into making those machines look so pristine. The sands of Tatooine were merciless; the paint job of any new landspeeder was scratched and blasted off a mere week after exposure to the elements. Of course, Dauvin was certain that none of the Mods did the hard work of maintaining their speeders. They had slaves for that.
Skad and Drash, along with a third Mod whose name Dauvin could not remember, dismounted their speeders. Dauvin hoped that they wouldn't walk into the shop. Unfortunately, they did.
Of the trio, Skad was the first to walk in. Dark skinned, dapperly dressed and with a droid eye where a real one should have been, he was clearly the leader of the three by his bearing alone. Drash, the lone girl, followed after him. She was pretty, with the porcelain white face one might find on a carefully cleaned holostar; not one speck of dust or scar marred her doll-like visage. The only imperfection anyone could see on her was the mechanical arm; even so, she seemed to belong more to a palace of Naboo than to a gang on Tatooine. It was that evil glint in her eye that revealed her true malicious nature. The last member of the trio was new, a young pale-faced human male with unkempt hair and as well dressed as Skad. His natural meanness was more easily read across his face.
All were what some called, "water-fat", which was another way to say that they consumed an abundance of water. An abundance which many were sure that they had no right to.
Lortha move forward to meet with Skad, clearly trying to shield everyone else inside the shop from his presence.
"How may I help you?" Lortha asked. When Skad made one of his visits, Lortha always asked this. There was no need for him to provoke the man. Nonetheless, Lortha Peel was not pleased with the interaction. Drash for her part was walking towards Zallite, looking her up and down. The other Mod just stood behind Skad, his arms crossed, and his droid hands clearly visible to the eye.
Dauvin didn't know what to do. He never did when the Mods came. He had his hands on the counter, and he didn't look away from them. It was all he could do. In truth, all he could do was wait and watch as old Peel gave his share of profits to them.
"What'r'you looking at?" the new Mod asked, his look directed at Dauvin. The young man's heart skipped a beat. He wondered what he could do in such a situation.
Skad raised an arm.
"Cool it," he said, his head turned askance at the new Mod. His eyes then rested on Lortha Peel. "We got Important People to entertain. Very Important People."
"Very, Very Important," Drash said, her face craned towards Zallite's.
"We need 220 thousand," Skad said. "Tomorrow."
That had everyone in the shop gasp. Taking 220 thousand gallons from the reservoir would drastically reduce the amount of water Lortha Peel had stored. Add that with the Mods earlier depredations, that would put Lortha Peel in a tight spot. He had to supply a wide area and a large population with water. In a short amount of time, he would have nothing to offer anyone, and his business would be ruined.
Lortha Peel's face went red, and his hands tightened into fists.
However, it was his daughter that reacted. She pushed Drash aside and rushed at Skad.
"What the hell! That would ruin us!" she yelled out.
Drash was quick with that droid arm of hers. She caught Zallite by her hair and pulled violently. Zallite let out a yell.
Lortha Peel jolted, but it was Dauvin he leapt over the counter to help Zallite out. He didn't have the chance to do anything; the new Mod stretched out his droid arm and a stream of electricity came out, knocking Dauvin down to the ground. The new Mod wasn't happy with that however, as he walked towards Dauvin's prone form, and before the young man could recover, kicked him several times.
After a few more kicks, the Mod walked away. Lortha Peel helped Dauvin up. The young man was horrified to see that Drash had Zallite in a choke hold.
"I really want my 220 thousand," Skad said menacingly. "So, to make things move along more smoothly, we're going to take the young lady with us. Once we're happy with what we got, she returns home safe and sound. If not…"
Skad looked at Drash who smiled like a ghoul. She tightened her grip around Zallite's neck.
They then quickly left the shop. Drash slammed Zallite against the back of her speeder. Specially made binds quickly wrapped around the young woman.
In another instant, they were gone.
After so many years, Luke still couldn't believe that Tosche Station hadn't been demolished. He wondered if Deak, Windy, Laze and Camie would still be there. That was unlikely. So many years had passed by since his last visit to Tatooine, two years after Han's rescue and the death of the Emperor. The visit had been a quick one, so that Luke could sort out his affairs. Laze and Camie had been left with the Lars homestead by the time Luke was gone.
He smiled lightly as he climbed up the stairs.
The place hadn't changed at all – apart from the counter of the bar. There were youths hanging out, doing whatever it was that they did nowadays. When he was a young man, Luke raced with his T-16. He wondered what the kids inside did for kicks.
Such inquiries were swept aside when his attention was drawn to the counter of the bar.
In an instant, he recognized her.
She recognized him.
"Wormie!" she said joyously.
Luke chuckled as he walked up to the bar.
"You still remember me?" he asked.
Camie, the prettiest girl he had ever known in Tatooine, let out a raucous laugh.
"I could never forget you Wormie!" she said. "Even after all this time. What brings you here to this dead end? I thought that you were done with this place for good after you signed the homestead over to us. It's not because of that chunk of metal that fell here?"
Luke lifted his head slightly. "What are you talking about? Why would a meteorite falling on Tatooine create any sort of ruckus?"
"Well, a few of my patrons have told me that it was no meteorite, but the broken part of a ship. The Jawas were making a big deal out of it," Camie added. "That's not why you're here, is it?"
Luke shook his head. He hadn't thought of the Jawas in years. And he did have a bad feeling that something nefarious was afoot. Luke felt a dark aura soaking itself in the air of Tatooine ever since he arrived.
He scratched his chin. "No. I got a call."
That statement brought back to Luke the vision he received in Coruscant. Her youthful image came back to his recollection; the bright red hair beckoned him. He knew he couldn't resist. As old as he was, he still couldn't resist.
Camie glanced at Luke in a very interesting way.
"It wouldn't be because of the lady living in the Lars homestead?" she asked.
Luke felt a jolt running through his heart. He looked up at Camie.
"What do you mean?" he asked, though he reckoned he already knew the answer.
"A year ago, Laze..." Camie stopped. The expression on her face was not at all joyous.
"I'm sorry," Luke said, reaching out and placing his hand on Camie's shoulder. "I'm very sorry that I didn't come back to visit you guys while I still had the chance."
Camie smiled and waved him off. "Oh don't worry. Everyone else moved away, and with good reason. Heck, I'll be leaving soon myself; Tek wants me to live with him and his wife on Corellia."
Luke nodded. He recalled that Tek was Laze and Camie's son. One of the three they had. The eldest, if he remembered properly. He had met the boy during his last visit to Tatooine. The kid was crazy about spaceships, always asking about the X-Wing Luke flew, or Han's Millenium Falcon. He was apparently – and rather appropriately – an engineer working in shipbuilding. He was probably working for Han's company. Luke was glad to know that Camie had some recourse.
"Anyway, I couldn't stay at the homestead any longer," Camie continued. "I sold it to the lady who lives there now. She gave me a lot of credit for it. More than its worth. She bought everything within. Even your old T-16. I hope you don't mind.
"I don't," Luke replied. "Did she call herself Mara Jade?"
Camie's eyes widened.
"You know her!" Camie then tossed her head and waved her hand. "Of course you do! She said she knew you. That was why she paid so much. I don't know if she's waiting for you. I asked her what she knew about you, but she was always quiet about that."
"She called me, though I don't know if she meant to," Luke said. He then added. "What about your other kids? One was called Bellinore… and the other was Dauvin."
Camie smiled. "Your memory is good. Belly is working in Bespin as an engineer."
"Bespin?" Luke raised an eyebrow. Bespin was a place that brought back a lot of memories. Important ones, but not necessarily pleasant ones. "Is he involved with the Tibanna mining operation going on there?"
Camie nodded. "He's essential to it," she then added, "but his position isn't as secure as Tek's. He might have to move out one of these days."
"And Dauvin?"
"He's still here," Camie replied. "Well, not here, but in Mos Espa. You know, it's not that far away from the crash site that I was talking about. He's working for Lortha Peel's water shop. It's good honest work for a boy his age."
Luke noticed that Camie was a bit downcast as she spoke of her youngest son's profession.
"Is anything wrong?" he asked.
There was a moment of silence. Finally, Camie spoke:
"I've been hearing rumors about a gang operating in Mos Espa, extorting credits from water shops," Camie scratched her forehead. "I'm worried about Dauvin. He's smart, but trouble can come looking for you, you know."
Luke was reminded of just how long it had been since he had been in Tatooine. He knew little of what was going on, as far as that nowhere planet he had been trying to escape from was concerned. All he knew was that Tatooine had elected to stay away from the New Republic ten years ago. Tatooine was governing itself right now. Luke had no idea what that meant. No one knew who ran things in Tatooine since Jabba's death. It was said that a relative of his ruled Tatooine from the shadows.
For some reason, the bad feeling he had was getting worse.
"I do know," Luke replied.
Camie's expression darkened.
"That's not the only rumor I've heard. There's whispering coming out of Mos Espa that some sand whalers suddenly disappeared from their station," Camie said.
For whatever reason, that gave Luke a jolt. The Force was trying to tell him something. This disappearance was more than it seemed.
"Disappeared? What else did you hear?"
"Not much," Camie said. "Just that they disappeared. I can't find anything about it on the holonet. Maybe I'm worrying over nothing."
For a moment, Luke thought about it. Those disappearances might not have had some sinister reason behind them. Luke remembered as a child an instance in which the entire workforce of Tibidon Station walked out. Harvesting sand whales was an activity prone to abusive practices. He had heard that the authorities of Tatooine – whomever they were – were good at controlling the flow of information within the planet, which would be good to keep the working class from contesting their wages. Nonetheless, Luke did have a bad feeling. He wondered if these disappearances had anything to do with the chunk of ship that had fallen from space. He considered asking Camie, but realized that she was already distressed as it was. He would have to ask someone else.
"Listen, once I'm done with my business here, I'll go to Mos Espa and see if Dauvin is alright."
"Please, don't bother. Maybe I'm just…" Camie started to say. Luke raised his hand.
"I'm a Jedi. Helping out is what I'm supposed to do," he said. "I can't just mope about in a cave, milking sea creatures, while the Galaxy burns, now can I?"
Camie took a deep breath and lowered her head.
"Thank you."
"Not a problem. I'll see you later," Luke looked around at the youngsters within Tosche Station "And watch these kids. You don't know where they might end up."
Kira Solo stood in front of the door for a moment, still and hesitant.
"So this is Holodeck d9 – 01," she said, muttering to herself. "Or is it?"
"This is indeed Holodeck d9 – 01, and you are expected Lady Solo," said the computer with its pleasantly maternal voice. The doors slid open, and to her shock, she saw a beach rather than the large dining hall she had been expecting. A beach equipped with bars, chairs and which extended to as far as the eye could see. This was no empty shoreline, as there were several people present, talking or dancing or drinking colorful beverages with tiny umbrellas stuck in the glasses.
It looked like a real vacation resort. On a planet rather than on a ship.
She could even feel the heat of the sun and a cool breeze touch her face.
Most of the people she saw there were strangers, but there were a few faces she did recognize.
Konrad Rus approached. He waved at her.
"You don't need to be afraid. This place is perfectly safe," he said.
Solo felt a bit irked, but she kept that to herself. She stepped across the threshold. Kira turned when she heard the sound of the doors closing behind her. To her astonishment, the door, and the arch over it disappeared.
It was as if she was on an actual beach, on an actual planet.
"Isn't it amazing?" Rus said with a big smile on his face. Kira didn't know quite what to think of the man. So far, he seemed authentically amiable. The Force was also strong in him; in another era, he would have been taken to Coruscant as a child to become a Jedi. He was not at all the scheming fiend she had expected from someone who worked directly beneath the authority of the Grand Prince of the Fel Empire, and a faithful member of the Imperial Mission. As a matter of fact, to Kira, Rus seemed more like a harmless uncle than anything else.
Of course, he was dressed in a manner that was appropriate for the setting. He wore a short-sleeved shirt and a pair of short trousers that barely covered his knees. It made Kira aware of how she was dressed; a similar garb to Rus', save the fact that she wasn't quite at ease with how tight her shirt was over her bosom. It was why she had the ship's computer make a light vest for her to wear.
"Yes," she said, answering to Rus, and recalling how the replicator hade made her vest out of nothing. "It's a bit embarrassing that we don't have anything like this."
Rus nodded. "This galaxy has gone through never ending cycles of good and bad periods. Who knows? Maybe those who came before us had such marvels, but the wars that have plagued this galaxy would have wiped them out."
Kira raised an eyebrow. She wondered why such technology couldn't have been developed during the long existence of the Galactic Republic. Even with the Sith lurking in the shadows, something should have happened.
Another figure approached. This one Kira also recognized. She had seen him on Geonosis, but regrettably, she couldn't remember his name. Only that his ears were pointed. Unlike the others, he wore his uniform.
"Lieutenant Commander Xon! Why are you still in uniform?" Konrad Rus exclaimed. Kira was relieved that the missionary had blurted out the alien's name. She would have been embarrassed to admit that she had forgotten.
"I still have my duties to perform, so my time here will be short. I take it that you and Lady Solo have both adapted well to the Holodeck," the Vulcan said.
"It's marvelous!" exclaimed Rus.
Kira nodded. "I was expecting something different. Something less real. This is such a complex piece of tech here. Do I have to worry about anything going wrong?"
"There is nothing to be worried about. These Holodecks have existed for quite some time now, and have already been built to take into account any error or disaster," Xon said.
"I'm trying not to sound like a wimp here, but my experience with technology isn't the best," Kira admitted.
"I assure you that there is nothing to worry about. I too had your concerns when I first encountered the Holodeck, but it has proven reliable."
Kira was puzzled by the Vulcan's statement. Rus placed his hand on her shoulder.
"Lieutenant Commander Xon here, though he is of the Federation, is from a different time period than this ship," he said.
"Oh," Kira said. Since her arrival, she had read up on the visitors from the Belt. They were apparently from different factions from across the multiverse, all unified by the events that had brought them here. She knew that the ship itself, the Enterprise, was from a faction called the Federation. That idea alone – that the astral bodies of the Belt came from several versions of a different universe, confirmed the wildest theories of fringe scientists. But that one version could have its own alternate versions just added to the confusion.
"I could provide a better explanation," Xon said.
"Maybe later," Kira said. She didn't want to handle such information just yet. Not on a beach within a spaceship.
"I will remember," he turned to Rus. "I must leave now. Please enjoy the party. The Volleyball game will begin shortly."
"Volleyball?" Kira asked.
"It's a game the belters like," said Rus as he pointed at an area on the beach. There were several stands set up around a square area of the beach. There was a net in the center, and next to the net, there was a tall chair.
Several people were already seated.
"Arch," Xon said and the door and arch above it appeared. The door opened to reveal the Enterprise's corridor, and Xon left the Holodeck. The door closed again, and once again, the door and arch disappeared.
Kira turned back to the field where she saw men in trunks bouncing a couple of balls over their heads.
"Do you know the rules?" Kira asked.
Rus shook his head.
They made their way to the stands, when a man in a strange uniform crossed their path.
"Allow me to show your seats," he said.
"Shouldn't he be relaxing? This is a party for this ship's crew, right?" Kira asked, wondering why a man of the crew would be given such a menial task during a party. She began to think that these people needed droids.
"He's not real," Rus said. "He's another creation of the Holodeck."
"What?" Kira reached out with the Force, and saw that this man before her was not really alive. Yet he looked so real. Her eyes widened. If this technology were to leak out to the galaxy as a whole, droid makers would have a fit.
Kira and Rus followed the holographic man to their seats.
By now, more people were sitting down. Another man wearing a white outfit and a funny had appeared, and he carried with him a large box over his torso.
"Dogs! I got dogs! With ketchup and whatever else you want!" he cried out.
Kira looked at Rus.
"He's also a hologram," Rus said.
"But what's he selling?" Kira had an idea that he was selling some sort of food. This was too similar to what she had seen in other sporting events.
"Ensign Boimler told me about this. They're called hot dogs," Russ suddenly got up. "I want one with ketchup please!"
The vendor smiled and walked up to the missionary.
"And the lady?" the vendor asked, looking at Kira.
She decided to take a chance. "The same."
The vender reached out into his box and took out two bundles made up of buns of bread wrapped around a long tube of meat. The vendor then took out a red bottle and slobbered both bundles with it.
"Thanks," Kira said, as she received her 'hot dog'. Rus was already biting into his. He seemed to be enjoying it.
"These are very good. I think I'll ask for another," Rus said.
Kira looked at her own 'hot dog'. It crossed her mind that putting something with this shape in her mouth may be seen as obscene, but she tried it anyway.
It was good. It was very good.
Then something else crossed her mind.
"Who made these?"
Rus swallowed down a chunk of dog. "The Holodeck I think. This machine also uses those replicators, I think."
Replicators had stunned Kira when she was first introduced to one. In addition to making her vest, those machines could also make food. Real food. Although she was told that there were limitations, and that natural food made from materials not created by a replicator felt better.
At least, that was what she understood.
By now, everyone was seated, and there were others sitting on the sand of the beach next to the playing field. It was a square, measuring around fifty-nine feet in length, with a span of thirty feet in width. The net in the center, which stood eight feet tall, divided the field into two. The tall chair that had been stood next to the net, now had a man with a serious look on his face sitting on it.
The two teams walked towards the field. All men, all wearing trunks. A few were bare-chested, but a few wore wife beaters. She recognized a few of the team members.
On one side, she spotted the olive-skinned Keffer. She had met him once upon arrival while looking at the Enterprise's starfuries. He had been one of the pilots that had fought off the Ties in the space battle over Geonosis' orbit. On the other side, she recognized the Klingon Lieutenant Commander Worf. She also recognized the young man called Ted McBan. He was strong in the Force, but he did not emit that same eldritch energy as before. She looked at his arm, and noticed the absence of that massive bracelet of imperishable, almost unbreakable metal which had embedded upon it a lenticular polychrome of writhing, almost fluid radiance.
She recalled the young man's words pertaining to that object.
It would kill you.
That's what he had said.
Kira did not doubt those words, especially after what had happened with that Sith Lady.
She quickly recalled that the young man's hand had been severed on Geonosis. But now he had both hands, though the one which had been cut off was covered in skin of a brighter shade of pink than the rest of McBan's body. Kira could have assumed that the hand was a prosthetic, but she knew this not to be true. She had seen her uncle's mechanical hand move too many times to mistake a prosthetic one for the real deal.
Perhaps the Federation had technology that allowed for the regeneration of limbs.
Considering that nearly every man on the field were bare-chested and wearing trunks, it made sense for such a dangerous device to not be present. Kira found herself wondering where it was though.
Upon further perusal of the young McBan Kira also realized that her initial impression of him – that there was something else within – was not due to the Lens itself. Something else was indeed with him. There was no doubt about that now.
Yet, the young man looked so harmless; and slightly younger than his eighteen years of age. This in spite of having a slim, muscular physique. Or maybe it was because of that.
Suddenly, music began to play:
Say it was the right time
To walk away
When dreaming takes you nowhere
It's time to play
They began to bounce the ball over the net. It bounced from one pair of hands to the other before going to the other side of the net.
Bodies working overtime
Your money don't matter
Time keeps ticking
Someone's on your mind, on your mind
Kira still couldn't discern the rule of this game. But she did understand that it was a game pitting the fighter pilots against the security team. She also understood that despite seeming harmless, McBan was by far the strongest player in the field. Strong as in physically so. He leapt higher than anyone else did. And anyone catching one of the balls he had tossed to the other side, seemed to grit their teeth and contort their faces in pain.
Rus seemed to be enjoying himself. He was beckoning to the vender to bring him another 'hot dog'.
"Want one?" he asked Kira. The Jedi knight shook her head and turned her attention back to the game.
I'm moving in slow motion
Feels so good
It's a strange anticipation
Knock, knock, knocking on wood
Bodies working overtime
It's man against man
All that ever matters
Is, baby, who's ahead in the game
Funny, but it's always the same
Playing, playing with the boys
Staying, playing with the boys (boys)
After chasing sunsets
One of life's simple joys
Is playing with the boys
Said it was the wrong thing
For me to do
I said it's just a boys' game
But girls play too
My heart is working overtime
In this kind of game
People get hurt
I'm thinking that the people is me
If you wanna find me, I'll be
Playing, playing with the boys
Staying, playing with the boys (boys)
After chasing sunsets
One of life's simple joys
Is the boys
I don't wanna be the mouth around your fire
(With the boys)
I don't wanna be obsessed by my desire
(You're shining, you're smiling, I'll see it now)
With the boys (I'm staying, you play too rough)
Playing, playing with the boys
I'll be staying, playing with the boys (with the boys)
After chasing sunsets (sunsets)
One of life's simple joys
Is playing with the boys (playing with the boys)
Playing (playing with the boys, boys)
Playing (playing with the boys, boys)
Playing (playing with the boys, boys)
Playing (playing with the boys, boys)
Kira had no idea who was winning. However, it was quite the show, eliciting a lot of commotion amongst the audience.
At one point McBan slammed the ball against a member of the opposite team. The poor sap was tossed several feet away from the playing field, and the young McBan was so embarrassed that his face was the brightest shade of red any face on any human of any skin color could be. He was clearly trying to find the words to apologize, his head turning this way and that, from his teammates, to the opposing team, to the man in the high chair.
"Mr. McBan!" yelled out the man in the tall chair next to the net. "This is volleyball. THIS IS NOT DODGEBALL!"
Kira could feel the creature inside the young man stir. There was an evident duality. There was the human Ted McBan, and the monster within. She wondered how long it would take for the young man to be a menace. Allied with that eldritch bauble, that could be a problem.
First Officer's log. Stardate 002.5. The Enterprise is undergoing repairs following the encounter we had at Geonosis' orbit. Our attackers have now been definitively identified as belonging to a faction calling itself the Crimson Empire. We managed to fight three of their ships off with the aid of a ship from another faction calling itself the New Republic. Geonosis itself seems to be under the control of a third faction called the Fel Empire. There seems to be a state of cold war, bordering on the hot, between the latter two factions and the former.
Captain Janeway is still on Geonosis, negotiating with the leaders of the New Republic and the Fel Empire and trading information. She is expected to return to the Enterprise very soon.
Currently, crew members of the Tidal Wave, the ship that came to our rescue, have assisted us in the installation of equipment that will allow the Enterprise to communicate visually with the ships native to this galaxy.
Commander Adams calmly waited as the strange looking being called an Ugnaught finished working on the circular holopod on the floor in front of the main view screen. After two years of training with Starfleet, Adams wasn't surprised by aliens, but the little guy reminded him of the old cartoon character Porky Pig – mixed with a hard working fairy-tale dwarf. The little guy seemed ideal for the job, considering that the holopod was on the floor.
With a tweak here and a final bolt there, the Ugnaught was done. He stood up and walked to Adams.
"The work is done," the pig-looking alien said. "Now test it."
Adams raised an eyebrow. "Okay, so, uh, where do I stand?"
As if to respond to Adams question, two robots rolled in his direction. They looked like garbage cans with domed lids and cuboid legs attached to their sides. A third leg – or rather a foot – at times popped out from under the body. They were called astromech droids. Adams had come to realize that the peoples of this galaxy called robots 'droids'. It didn't make any sense. Droid sounded like a word derived from the word 'Android', which referred to a robot that looked like a human being. Adams had already met an android in the form of Captain Data. These ambulatory trashcans did not look human enough to be called androids.
One of them beeped at Commander Adams. He couldn't help but look down, and assume that the robot was speaking to him. He had spent a lot of time with Robby; that had accustomed him to viewing some machines as something more than a toaster.
"What?"
"He said to look sharp," said Ensign Boimler, behind his console. He could actually understand what the robots were saying thanks to the display before him.
"Well, I can't look sharper," Adams observed.
The other robot beeped. Adams wondered if it was being snide. He had been told that these 'astromech droids' were of the R2 line, and known for their attitude.
"Deefo is telling you that everything is ready sir," Boimler said.
"Deefo?" Adams asked with curiosity. He wondered how long had Boimler associated himself with these robots. They had been on the bridge for the rough equivalent of two days.
"R2-D4. Deefo," Boimler explained. "The other one is Red."
Adams looked down at the other one. The bright red color of its dome did stand out like a nice Ferarri with a hot lady in it. Deefo on the other hand was green and yellow.
"Very appropriate," the commander said.
A blue image suddenly emerged from the holopod. It was shaped like the Tidal Wave's captain, Ackbar.
"Can you see me Commander Adams? I can sure see you," the mollusk looking alien said.
"I can see you clearly Captain Ackbar. Except that you seem to be blue," Adams said. Red whistled.
"Most holograms are blue. There are better ones, but these are cheaper and more common, and apparently work better with your ship's computer. Anything else might cause problems," captain Ackbar acknowledged.
Adams nodded while holding up his hands. "I won't complain. This is enough to make communication easier. But… uh…" Adams then looked at the two robots next to him. "Do I really need these robots next to me?"
"Yes," the Ugnaught cut in.
Ackbar replied before Adams could react. "Those astromech droids have holocams installed within them. Working together, they form the image that the person you are communicating with is seeing. Until you install holocams within your ship, you will need them."
"I wonder how much we owe you for them," Adams asked.
"Don't worry about that. They're a gift from the New Republic. All we ask is that you treat them well." Captain Ackbar said.
"No need to worry," Adams said. With that, the blue hologram of Captain Ackbar disappeared. Deefo beeped.
"Communication is ended," Boimler said. The two astromech droids rolled away to their stations within the bridge. Which in this case meant that Deefo ended up on one side of the main viewscreen, while Red was standing on the other.
Commander Adams looked down at the Ugnaught, but the little alien was already on his way out. Adams was amazed at how the alien didn't need any directions. He just left out the turbolift with his escort, who himself seemed to be following him. Adams had been warned that that particular technician would know how to leave by himself, and not say a word about it. Adams shrugged, and looked at the circular device on the floor in front of the viewscreen. He didn't see how it was better than Starfleet's form of audiovisual communication. Though to someone not knowledgeable of Federation technology, the viewscreens may seem two-dimensional, those screens in fact displayed a three dimensional image. Colorful and detailed, unlike the blue holograms which had just been installed. However, Ackbar had made a good point. Marrying technology from this galaxy with Federation technology wouldn't yet yield the best results; for now, this was what could be done.
"Commander Adams, Captain Janeway's shuttle has arrived," Ensign Boimler said.
Adams felt relief. Ever since the captain had beamed down, he had been up there with the Enterprise, overseeing everything, from the repairs to the installation of the holopod. Janeway had been down there, busy doing her job with Dr. Floyd and coming to a decent arrangement with the representatives of the New Republic and the Fel Empire. There was also the matter of the arrangement of the funerary services of those security personnel that had lost their lives down there. Adams had to deal with the paperwork up in the Enterprise concerning that sorry state of affairs.
Adams seated himself in the First Officer's chair and looked at the viewscreen. It showed the planet Geonosis, along with the Tidal Wave not too far away. A few other vessels – three in number – which he was told belonged to the Fel Empire were also there. They had arrived shortly after the battle with the Crimson Empire had ended, and they were busy picking at the remains of the two ships the Enterprise had destroyed. Apparently, neither ship produced any survivors.
At long last, Adams began to feel the fatigue that comes with leadership. It was a familiar sensation. He had felt it many times before on the C-57D. For two years now, he hadn't felt it in such an acute manner.
Adams leaned back, and allowed himself to fall against the cushions of his seat.
Some time had passed. He didn't know how much time gone by, but the turbolift doors opened, and Captain Janeway entered the bridge.
Adams stood in attention.
"At ease number one," said Janeway, as she sat in her chair. She looked at Adams. "It seems that I came just in time. You look exhausted."
"It's been a long day captain," Adams admitted. He said this fully aware of what the captain had gone through on Geonosis. He would never dare to say that he had it worse than her.
"Yes it has," said Janeway with a cheerful tone. "You need some rest. Get out of here. I'll handle things."
Under any other circumstances, Adams would ask Janeway if she was sure, but she was right. He was exhausted. The captain, in spite of the fact that her day seemed to have been just as challenging, looked fresher.
"That's an order, Commander Adams," she said with more authority.
"Yes ma'am," he said. He began to turn when he saw the captain's arm come up.
"Oh, just one more thing," she said. "You already know that we have representatives of the New Republic and Fel Empire on board. I'm sure you already met them."
Indeed, during a short break in the repairs, Adams had greeted the two individuals that represented their respective factions. A young, comely but stern looking lady – called Kira Solo if memory served him right – and an older gentleman called Konrad Rus; the former was from the New Republic while the latter, garbed as he was in his almost clerical robes, represented the Fel Empire. Both had arrived via shuttle; beaming them up would have been a jarring and unsettling experience to both of them. Due to his workload, the greeting had been quick, so Adams did not have the opportunity to evaluate their characters properly.
Adams nodded.
"The parents of the young lady, Kira Solo, came with me on the shuttle. If you run into anyone of them, be honest. We have nothing to hide," Janeway said. She then lifted her PADD which displayed both of their faces. "This is them."
"Got it," Adams said as he quickly glanced at the display. He turned towards the turbolift.
The trip to his quarters was a short one. He was thankful that he had a nice suite to go to at the 'end of the day'. It was far better than the small compartment he had in the C-57D as the commanding officer.
A quick shower and a change of uniform was all that he needed to feel better. The uniform he now wore was the second variant that had gave the officer who wore it a more relaxed appearance. Dr. Floyd had actually remarked about it looking like a buttoned up, short-sleeved shirt and a simple pair of pants. It was an accurate description, although the shirt itself didn't have buttons. This version of the uniform was easier to wear than the one he usually donned when performing his duties.
Adams quickly passed his hand over his hair to straighten it out, and left his quarters. He would sleep later. Right now, he needed a drink.
Another trip along the turbolift took him to Deck 10 of the Enterprise in an instant. There was only one place on that deck he wanted to be at the moment, and he was nearly there when an old man wearing what seemed to be a leather bomber jacket crossed his path.
For whatever reason, Adams was reminded of the cowboys of those old movies he'd watch as a child. The man didn't have a hat, but he did have that aura about him. His roguish expression certainly was apt for a cowboy.
Or an adventurous, treasure-hunting, archeologist. The two images easily merged in the commander's imagination.
Adams recognized the man's face; it belonged to the father of Kira Solo, the representative of the New Republic. Or New Alliance Republic. Or whatever it was called. Adams had to check that fact another time.
The old man raised a hand.
"Hey!" he exclaimed. "You're the second in command of this ship, right?"
"Commander J.J. Adams," Adams said. He tried to recollect the name he had seen in Janeway's PADD. "You're Han Solo. You're the father of the young lady representing…" Adams felt that he had to choose his words carefully "… the New Republic."
"Guilty," the old man said with a prideful smile "Kira's a chip off the old block. The only question is whose block. Mine, or my lady's."
The old man chuckled and extended his hand.
"I hope you've had a good time here," said Adams, shaking Han Solo's hand.
"It's been just a couple of hours, but it's been a revelation. This is an exploration vessel, isn't it?"
"Yes," replied Adams
"And it still managed to teach those Crimsons a lesson," Solo said with some obvious satisfaction.
"Exploration vessels need to be prepared for all kinds of trouble. The Federation's philosophy is to not start fights, but to finish them no matter what," Adams said. He had never actually heard any Starfleet officer express such a sentiment, but it was an observation he had made after two years studying and training under Starfleet's watch. It was very little different from the Stellar Survey corps he had belonged to before.
"It's a good philosophy. One I myself try to live by," Solo said. He was looking up and down at the corridors. "I was still surprised by your ship's interior. It looks more like a luxury hotel than a ship capable of defending itself."
"As I said before. This is an exploration ship. The Enterprise is expected to penetrate the darkest corners of space for long periods of time. A ship like this needs to be big and comfortable inside, while everything else outside is the opposite, otherwise you run the risk of driving your crew insane. I used to be the commanding officer of a much smaller vessel than the Enterprise. It was not a walk in the park. And shore leave was a risk for the native women."
For a moment, Adams remembered Alta. Young and innocent. She really didn't deserve the tongue-lashing he had given her that day.
"I see your point," the old man said. "Either way, this ship is more luxurious than any ship I've ever seen. It certainly is better than the Halcyon Starcruiser. Are there more ships like this?"
Adams nodded, remembering what Janeway had told him about being honest. Otherwise, this was the sort of information he'd be wary to divulge. "The Enterprise is part of the Galaxy-class of starships. I think that there are more than fifty of them around."
"And how long will they see service?" the elder man asked.
Such a question, asked from anyone else, would have aroused suspicion. But even a blind yak could see that Solo's interest was solely pecuniary. Besides that, for some reason, Adams trusted the elder man before him.
"How long till they'll be decommissioned? I don't know. You'll have to ask the captain that question. It really depends on the ship. In general, a class of ship is in service for around eighty or a hundred years," Adams replied. He was beginning to wonder if his instincts regarding the old man were correct. He did seem to trust the old man in spite of himself, and the tone which the old man was using to ask these questions didn't make him seem like a spy looking out for military secrets, but there was another part of Adams which said 'watch out'. Even if Solo sounded more like a merchant looking out for a great deal. Ultimately, he had to recall what Janeway had told him.
Adams decided to take a risk. "Do you want to purchase a Galaxy class ship?"
The old man smiled.
"You can bet I do," the old man said with a smile of satisfaction on his face. After the short tour, I'm sure that a ship like this will make more credits than anything the Chandrila Star Line could dream of. Those holodecks are amazing! And the food replicators! I can imagine the crowds of beings wanting to stay for a while in such a ship, travelling along the nicer places within this galaxy."
"Not every room here is a suite," warned Adams in a friendly manner, still being torn between his feelings of trust and suspicion. "The lower ranks are quartered in smaller rooms which are divided into just two areas. Not the sort of lodging the filthy rich would appreciate."
"I saw one of them," Solo chimed in. "Economy class."
"Han!"
Both men turned to look at an old woman that was quickly approaching. Adams quickly recognized her. She was the man's wife. Even if he hadn't seen the picture on the captain's PADD, her manner towards the old man was certainly the bossy sort that comes natural to wives.
"Han, will you stop bothering this poor man?" she turned to look at Adams. "I'm sorry. My husband owns a shipping line and he's always trying to expand his business. You must be Commander Adams. Your captain has spoken highly of you, and I've seen the recordings of your battle here. You've impressed a lot of people. You've certainly impressed Captain Ackbar and myself."
"I'm flattered," Adams said with a smile. He wondered if he was blushing. He was not entirely immune to praise.
"Anyway, we won't be bothering you any further," the woman said. "But I do hope we see you again in Hapes."
"Hapes?" he asked. By that time however, the old couple had disappeared behind the bed of the corridor. He shook his head and decided to leave the matter for later and ask the captain what was Hapes.
A few more steps, and he was standing before the door that lead to Ten Forward.
Boy did he need a drink.
Some of the green stuff. Not that synthehol slop.
He turned to look at the bar.
There she was.
He couldn't believe his luck. It was like a dream. But there she was, just as he saw her everyday - that exotically beautiful face and a body that could melt a cheese sandwich from across the room. And breasts that seemed to say, 'Hey! Look at these!'
She was the kind of woman who made you want to drop to your knees and thank God you were a man!
She reminded a man of his mother, all right.
Adams passed his hand over his hair and walked up to her.
"Fancy meeting you here!" Adams said to Lieutenant Venabili. The woman turned to look at him, and thank goodness, she smiled.
"I can say the same Commander!" Venabili answered.
Adams was at a loss. He didn't know what to say next. He could feel his face heating up. He must have been as red as a tomato.
"I've been meaning to have a word with you," he said.
"I got that impression," Venabili said.
"Yeah, well, I don't know what to say next," Adams said. That was an understatement. He took a deep breath. "I was wondering if I could ask you out on a date. I couldn't before, because we were working and I couldn't just order you to speak to me in private."
He was glad to see that Venabili was smiling.
"You do know that going out on a date, with me being a lieutenant and you a commander, might seem inappropriate?" she said.
That statement nearly brought him down. But he persevered.
"Tell that to Captain April and his wife. She was his CMO you know," Adams said
"Do you want to start a relationship?" Venabili asked.
"I would like to try," Adams replied.
Venabili rested her face on her hand.
"Okay. How about we have a dinner date. The Holodeck has a program called Faire des galipettes. It takes place in an idealized version of Paris. I've been told that there's a restaurant there called Chez Forniquer that serves the best food," she said.
The smile on Adams' face couldn't have been wider.
"It's a date then. When do we go out?" he asked.
"Our next free shift," she said. There was a sudden chime. The computer's voice then spoke out:
"Lieutenant Venabili, report to the bridge."
"I have to go to the bridge now. Be a good boy," she said.
"I'll be a good boy until you tell me not to," Adams murmured as she disappeared behind the door.
"So Commander, I see you're getting lucky," Guinen said. Adams' attention was suddenly torn from the door.
"I hope so. You have some of the green stuff?" he asked.
Guinen smiled. "I do"
Out in space, one shouldn't really count time by days, as such a concept is born from living on a planet that spun around it axis and revolved around a star. Nonetheless, it would be correct to say that Commander John J Adams was having a very good day. Indeed, it would be extremely correct to say that something was telling the commander, that he was into something good.
Once again, Luke had that same nostalgic feeling he had had at Tosche Station. He hadn't been home in so many years. Not even when he had returned to Tatooine to rescue Han. He couldn't; the memory of his uncle and aunt's charred remains was still strong. It was still strong today.
The entrance dome to the homestead hadn't changed at all. It was the same color, and had the same nicks and chips Luke remembered, though there were a few more that had appeared since his forced departure.
Luke stood still. Someone was standing behind him. His lightsaber was well within the reach of his hand.
There was no need to grab it though.
"What are you doing here?" asked the woman standing behind him.
"I used to live here," Luke replied. He turned while lifting the hood from his head and looked at the woman holding the blaster.
She had indeed changed over the years. That was to be expected, as she was Luke's age. Her face was worn from years of hard living – hard living eking out an existence on Tatooine and elsewhere. Wrinkles adorned her face, as they had his. Her long hair was gray, and now tied in a braid, but there were still a few red strands here and there. But her face was still there. The face of the woman he would have lived the rest of his life with.
"Hello Mara," he said with a warm smile. "I've missed you."
Mara lowered the blaster she had in her hand. That wasn't her only weapon. Luke could see the strange 'blaster-sword' Mara had invented during their period of time together, when Luke still believed he could have a family with her, before she ran away leaving only a message behind. Such weapons had begun to multiply across the galaxy. The Aquilian Rangers used them, as did the Fel Chaceors, along with a host of Force-sensitive adventurers.
"W – Why are you here Luke?" Mara asked, this time in a less aggressive way than before.
Luke's eyes widened with surprise. "You called."
"I didn't…" she was about to say, before she let out a chuckle and her hand went to her face. "The dreams. I dreamt about speaking with you. You saw them."
"I saw that you needed my help. I heard your plea. That's all I understood, I'm afraid," Luke said.
Mara holstered her blaster. "It's good to see you again. Very good. Let's go inside. No funny business farm boy."
"You're a farm girl yourself Mara," Luke said as he followed Mara into the dome. Entering the homestead had a strange effect on Luke. Memories which had faded away after so many years came back in vivid detail. As he walked along the passageway after having climbed down the stairs, Luke placed his right hand on the wall. His room was on the other side – his room had been on the other side. He had no idea of what had happened to it, and the possessions within since his forced departure.
"That's my room now," Mara said. She could always guess what Luke was thinking. Most of the time anyway. She then added, "I'm using your uncle and aunt's room for storage."
Luke turned to look to his left. By now, they were passing the door that lead to the garage and maintenance bay. He began to wonder.
"It's there," Mara replied. "That Loneozner fellow modified it a bit."
"A bit?" Luke asked.
"He added a second seat," Mara said.
"For Camie," Luke said. "Figured Fixer would do something like that. How's its flying?"
"Not as good as it should be," Mara said.
They soon arrived at the enclosure. An EG-6 power droid approached Luke. The old Jedi master was stunned. It was the same one he had known as a youth. He didn't expect to see that old droid still around. He must have somehow survived after all these years.
"Good to see you too," Luke said, before following Mara into the dining room.
Luke paused a moment to look around. Nothing had changed. Neither Camie nor Mara had done anything to the interior. Everything was the same, from the walls, to the table, to the chairs as well. Luke grabbed his old chair and pulled it back before sitting down.
The last time he had sat in that chair was the day Uncle Owen had told him that he wanted Luke to stay for another season, instead of enlisting in the Academy. Life had a way of ruining everyone's expectations.
Mara sat down, and Luke looked at her, wondering what was going on in her mind. Something was bothering her – there was no doubt about that.
"What's wrong Mara?" he asked.
"I…" she started to say before she closed her mouth and took a deep breath. She then looked Luke in the eye and continued. "I have a son."
That felt like a kick in the teeth. Of course, Luke knew that Mara would have formed relationships with other men, but he felt jealous nonetheless. It was not what a Jedi was supposed to feel. Especially since they had parted ways so many years ago.
"No Luke," she said. "It's not what you're thinking. You are his father."
Luke's eyes widened with surprise.
This was quite the shock.
For whatever reason, Luke had always felt that he had someone out there. However, he had always paid little attention to what he believed to be distractions caused by odd ripples in the Force. Now he knew that he had been wrong in this regard.
It was quite the surprise to be sure, but a welcome one. Admittedly, he was bit too happy to learn that Mara's child was his, instead of someone else's. That couldn't be helped.
Mara was not lying to him and he was very happy.
The Force was telling him that.
"Where is he?" Luke asked.
Mara's hand covered her eyes. In all of the time Luke had spent with her, Mara had only shed tears once; at that time, she had covered her eyes so that Luke wouldn't see. Just like now.
"What happened?" Luke asked. It was a question to which Luke already had part of an answer. Something bad had happened. It was why Mara had made her plea.
Mara let her hands fall on the surface of the table. Water and reddened skin marked her eyes.
"The last time I heard from him, he was working for the Ren Empire, as a bodyguard for Kylo Ren. Good credit, but a bad job," she said.
Luke had heard the news regarding the final fate of the Rens. All of them were dead. It was around the time the Belt had appeared; around the Luke had begun to have his nightmares. It was a confusing time, with Luke having little chance to interpret the Force properly.
The Force wasn't just warning him about whatever it was that the Belt harbored.
"Have you heard from him? Anything?" Luke asked. He looked inwardly, turning for answers from the Force. He was alive. He could feel it.
"I know he's alive," Mara said. "I can feel it. Like you can now, I'm betting. But something bad is happening to him. Very bad. Every night, I have nightmares. I see him burning alive inside the halls of a bright but dead city, devoid of warmth. I see his body reduced to ashes and then brought back again, but worse, ugly and distorted. I see chains around his neck, and the hands holding those chains are gigantic and impossibly strong."
Luke looked up at the sky, feeling sick to his stomach, and then back at Mara. "Does this have anything to do with the Belt of stars?"
Mara smirked. She shrugged her shoulders. "I think so. In my dreams, the dead city is on a dead planet were the night sky is mostly black, except for this galaxy, and a ring of stars around it. But both of those are so far away. I figured that was the Belt."
It was the last thing Luke wanted to hear. To know that something evil lurked in that belt was bad, but to know it had affected Mara's son – his son – just made it worse. He had to help. He couldn't just stand by and wait for something to happen.
No matter how badly things might go, he was not the sort to give up – to run away and hide to the solitude of a forgotten planet.
"The last battle of the Rens, took place near Ograu, wasn't it?" Luke asked.
"Yes," Mara replied.
"As I understand it, there are still survivors from that battle. We should go there and find out what really happened," Luke said.
"You mean you want to conduct an infiltration?" Mara asked, showing enthusiasm for the first time since Luke had arrived. She seemed like her old self.
"We'll figure something out," Luke said. "What's his name?"
"Didn't I tell you?"
Luke shook his head.
"I called him Kane. When he was born, I didn't want to give him the name you would have given him," Mara said.
"Ben," Luke said with a chuckle. "Now let's stop wasting our time here and go. There's somewhere else I need to be, and I'm eager to fly that skyhopper again," Luke then paused for a moment, and then added, "You wouldn't know anything about something falling from the sky, or people disappearing suddenly from whaling stations? I have a very bad feeling about things like that."
Darth Krayt's eyes narrowed as he looked down upon the curve of Exegol's surface. Snoke valued this lonely, hidden planet, and Darth Krayt could now understand why. The Dark Side emanated from this world; it had Palpatine's mark upon it.
He had a hard time imagining why one with so much naked power, would employ such secrecy.
The Dark Lord of the One Sith heard the turbo-lift door's distinctive sound as it slid open: this was followed by the timid footsteps of the serf that entered. Darth Krayt did not turn immediately. He did not need to – not for these couple of seconds. He scowled slightly. He didn't like the serfs at all. To Snoke, they were slaves – servile, always nodding, and never challenging. The One Sith used acolytes to perform the more lowly tasks, and the purpose behind that was so that they could climb their way to the top. They were encouraged to challenge; it was the Master's duty to be strong enough to rebuke them if they were wrong. That was the Sith way. The only way anyone immersed within the Dark Side could survive. Still, the serfs could be useful.
The serf approached slowly. When he had come close enough, Darth Krayt turned to face him.
He was a meek and timorous individual; Krayt wasn't surprised. Snoke loved it when others were afraid of him, even if he never worked to deserve it; the serfs readily provided him with such an illusion. The serf's head was lowered, and he walked with his back hunched. Even after his master's death, he still wore the clerical robes Snoke provided his people with. Darth Krayt had yet to give the order to change that. He realized that he should do it sooner than later. Within the space of a few hours, the serf would have his skin marked with the appropriate glyphs.
Darth Krayt noticed the datapad in the serf's hands. He extended his arm and glared at the slave. The serf cowered almost instantly, and extended the datapad at the Dark Lord, whilst avoiding his gaze.
With a swing of his arm, Darth Krayt snatched the pad from the serf's hands with a simple use of the Force.
"Leave," said Darth Krayt.
The serf lowered his head and promptly obeyed the Dark Lord's command.
He looked at the datapad.
One quick glance was all it took to confirm the absurd information he had received from the slicers and the surviving First Order personnel on board the third Death Star. It had been Snoke's own personal datapad, where he stored all of his information. There was no security to block Krayt's access; Snoke, the fool that he was, hadn't bothered securing his own datapad. He had put too much faith in his own position and power. Faith that was unjustified. And Snoke's secrets were plain to see.
Krayt had no intention of perusing them all – he certainly didn't have the stomach for it. What was most relevant was what concerned Exegol, and Palpatine's previous work here. Darth Krayt scowled.
It was hard to believe that Palpatine was involved in such a crazy scheme. There was no need for it. He was the Emperor. Uncontested ruler of the Galaxy.
A shift of the Force alerted Krayt to Darth Nihl's imminent arrival.
The turbo-lift doors opened to reveal the nagai Sith Lord, his chalk white skin contrasting with the black markings of the One Sith.
Darth Krayt held up the datapad he had in his hand, waving it in the other Sith's direction.
"What sick comedy is this?" he asked, and then tossed the datapad across the immense hall that had been meant to serve as an imperial observation deck. The pad spun around as if it were a discus, and crashed against the wall.
The corner of Nihl's mouth turned downwards.
"I assume you are not referring to the existence of this Death Star," Nihl said plainly, but with a glint of mischief in his voice.
Darth Krayt restrained himself from throttling the Sith Lord.
"No," Krayt then added, "Even if I had only learned about this Death Star now, I would understand it – it's existence, and the secrecy behind its construction, but everything else?"
The Dark Lord was now pacing back and forth until he reached the imperial throne. With one mighty blow, he slammed his fist against its back; the throne shattered in half.
Darth Nihl winced.
"AN ENTIRE FLEET BURIED BENEATH THAT PLANET'S SURFACE?" Darth Krayt exploded with rage. However, the Dark Lord's wrath soon subsided – or so it seemed.
Darth Krayt turned to face the view. He extended his muscled arm and pointed at the planet.
"An entire fleet," he growled, "is buried within the frozen soil of that planet."
"It seems so my Lord," said Darth Nihl.
"And it has a crew in it."
"Clones my Lord. All of them, it would seem, in stasis within the ships."
"How lovely," Darth Krayt remarked with some displeasure.
"They will be useful to us," Darth Nihl added.
"I'm sure of it," replied Darth Krayt as he looked out the viewer towards the cold planet.
After a moment of silence, Darth Krayt asked, "Why though?"
Darth Nihl shrugged a shoulder.
"I have no idea what was going on in Palpatine's mind, Lord Krayt."
The dark lord crossed his arms behind his back, his eyes still on the planetary surface below.
"I have heard the rumors," he said, "silly stories of how Palpatine thought up of several plans in case he might be defeated. One that I remember well is this story that Palpatine gave an order to all of his officers to bombard every planet in the Empire to avenge his defeat," he turned his head to look at Nihl with one eye. "There is a problem with that story. Palpatine never believed that he could be defeated. He was much like that fool Snoke, and put much confidence on his visions. Visions that told him that he'd be victorious. A true Sith should expect defeat to come at any second, and be ready for it."
"Are you saying that Lord Sideous was not a Sith?" Nihl asked, before lowering his head. It was a moment of audacity. Darth Krayt would have to be wary with him. The dark lord glared at Nihl. That was the answer needed. For now.
Besides, Nihl knew the answer. As far as Darth Krayt was concered, Sith flourished with challenge. Sideous strove to avoid it. He wanted to cheat.
"That story may be an attempt to explain the Empire's downfall following Endor," Nihl then opined, not showing any signs that he had been whipped. Oh, Krayt would have to deal with him. "Most people these days don't seem to understand that an Empire dependent upon autonomous governors to maintain it would fracture once the leader holding it all together would disappear. The many wars between the different imperial factions could have easily given rise to such a ridiculous story."
Darth Krayt turned back to the viewer, and then nodded.
"But what did he see? What would have him build a secret fleet, crewed by clones in stasis, and buried underground? Building a new fleet did not justify such secrecy."
Darth Krayt stopped himself. He quickly recalled the band of stars which surrounded the galaxy. Palpatine may have seen that, at least. With that, the Dark Lord wrath changed its course. Palpatine's puzzling actions had confused Darth Krayt, but things were clearer.
Anger was good most of the time. Especially when it was used to help focus.
"How did Snoke hope to use these ships and their clone crew?" Krayt said, only giving the smashed datapad a passing glance.
Darth Nihl held up a holo-emitter. An image appeared from the circular device within the palm of the nagai's hand. A strange ziggurat appeared. The massive stairs lead to a platform that was just big enough to allow several men to stand upon it.
"This structure exists in the southern hemisphere, out of sight from here, but not that far away. It was originally intended for Palpatine to stand upon it and summon his fleet and crew through the Force. Snoke intended to do the same," Darth Nihl explained.
"Did Snoke know how to achieve this?"
The nagai Sith smiled. "He believed so. And he wrote it down,"
Krayt grunted. "Get me another datapad. And prepare my shuttle. I wish to see this structure."
Darth Nihl bowed before his master, and then promptly left to perform his given task.
Prince Isolder's face was worn and downcast. He clearly didn't have the strength to curl his mouth into a fake smile to conceal the severity of what had happened.
The holo-emitter creating his visage was one of the better ones. Leia could see in detail every wrinkle in his face and every gesture of his form. It laid bare the tragedy of his situation.
"How many?" Leia asked.
"Seven hundred thousand," the prince of the Hapes Consortium replied, his voice muted and subdued by the weight of what he was saying.
Leia felt her heart sink. Seven hundred thousand. Seven hundred thousand sentient beings lost their lives in an instant. Seven hundred thousand people had been killed in a terrible attack that came out of nowhere, and committed by entities no one knew about.
"Ta'a Chume'Dan was completely wiped out," Prince Isolder added. He choked, "My… the Queen Mother is amongst those that perished."
Prince Isolder, who had until now, showed little sign of emotion, began to break down. His face contorted, and tears fell down his eyes. The prince quickly recovered, covering his face with his hand. When it came down, Isolder's countenance was almost expressionless.
Leia didn't know what to say. Nothing she could say make things better.
"Isolder, if you need any help…" she started to say, but the Hapan prince held up his hand.
"I… we appreciate the offer, but the Hapes Consortium can take care of itself. We've already dealt with the animals that committed this vile act, and we can build anew without assistance," said Isolder. Leia could see that he wasn't just speaking for himself. He was relaying the words of the top officials of the Consortium. She had to admit, that she could understand their point of view.
"Do you know who did this? Who attacked Hapes?" she asked.
"It wasn't the Crimson Empire," Isolder promptly answered. "These attackers came from beyond the galaxy itself…"
Suddenly, Isolder turned to the side; Leia knew that someone was talking to him, perhaps an aid or an adviser. He turned to face Leia again.
"I regret to say this, but we won't be able to host your meeting with the visitors from the Belt," Isolder took a deep breath. "It's just not the best time. I have other business to attend to. I bid you farewell."
The holographic image of the prince disappeared immediately. Leia leaned over the console.
"Chancellor?" she barely heard Aftab Ackbar call out her name through the comm, but she still managed to turn her head to look at him. "We've received encrypted data addressed to you."
Leia nodded as she looked at Han, who was sitting in the nearby corner with his arms crossed.
"Give it to me," she said.
"Your spies are fast," Han said with little surprise.
"They're not my spies," Leia said emotionlessly, pressing a button on the console before her, "They're the spies of the New Republic. And they should be fast."
Holographic images popped out of the emitter. Images that were chilling.
"What the blazes is that?" Han exclaimed, as he looked at the imagery of destroyed buildings and multitudes of charred corpses strewn about.
"That is Ta'a Chume'Dan, or what's left of it," Leia replied in a hushed tone.
A new image appeared. It was a body, burned almost down to the skeleton; the corpse wore a crown.
"Is that…" Han began to ask, in disbelief and horror.
Leia nodded. "Yes. The Queen Mother."
Another image appeared. This one would sicken a hutt.
They saw, destroyed on the ground, a strange thing. It was humanoid in form; at first, Leia thought it was a modified protocol droid with its glistening silver metal hide, but then she saw the tell-tale signs of organic flesh. A seemingly humanoid eye was peeking out of a metallic helmet and tubes coming in and out of what looked like skin. Leia was familiar with prosthetics – her brother had lost his hand and was using a copy, but this merging of organic and inorganic was something she had never witnessed before.
Images taken within the orbit of Hapes showed the sudden appearance of a fleet of ships that had never been seen before. Their shapes varied, from cubes to spheres, to saucers laid atop each other. Oddly enough, those last ones were vaguely similar to the Hapan Battle Dragons that were engaging them. Prince Isolder's own ship, the Song of War was in the thick of the battle, blasting away at cubes and spheres with everything it got.
Amidst this, the same disconcerting message was transmitted over and over again:
"We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile.
"Who are they?" Han asked, standing up. He looked at Leia. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like this before."
"The Hapans beat them back. They were preparing for the meeting; the prince's own fleet was there to provide security when those ships suddenly arrived," Leia said.
The entire situation was horrifying. It was fortuitous that these mysterious invaders appeared now rather than before – or later, when the bulk of the Hapan fleet wouldn't be present. But it was still a hard fight. Though the Hapans outnumbered the enemies fifteen-to-one, it still cost three Battle dragons to destroy one of their ships. Not to mention what happened on the Hapes itself. By all accounts, they had appeared undetected, and just a few klicks the orbit of Hapes itself.
New data began to emerge on the display before the Chancellor's eyes.
"No one has," she said. "They came from the Belt."
Han's eyes widened.
"The Belt?" Han asked. "The same place the Enterprise came from?"
"Not quite," Leia said, reading further data. "But they are from the Belt. And they seem to have similar technology to them. Those half-droids appeared in columns of light."
Just like the Enterprise's transporters. Han clearly understood.
"I can see why the Hapans would not want to host people from the Belt," Han said, "Apart from all of the carnage making it difficult. Where are we going to have our talks with the visitors of the Belt?"
Leia waved her hand. "I'm going to have to make a call to Pellaeon about this. And the senate."
She took a deep breath.
Han nodded in his peculiar manner. "I'm going to tell Captain Ackbar to set a course back to Coruscant. Do you want me to call the Enterprise?"
"I'll do that myself. Thank you Han."
Han smiled before he left the room. Leia sat before the console, and wondered how much information she should share with the captain of the Enterprise, before deciding that she had to share it all. The Force seemed to demand it.
Lortha Peel couldn't take it. He was seated on the old bench, his face buried in his hands. His every breath was drawn out. All he could think of was his daughter. He didn't dare think of what was happening to her.
When the shadow fell upon him, he didn't even notice. Only when a hand came down his shoulder did he stir. Lortha lifted his head, and saw a bearded man of his own age staring back at him. The bearded man was smiling warmly.
"Hello. My name is Luke Skywalker, and I'm a Jedi," the bearded man said. "You look like you need some help."
Lortha couldn't believe his eyes. He could barely believe that this man before him was indeed a Jedi. However, if he was, he could get Zallite back, safe and sound and home again, where she belonged.
At long last, Lortha Peel broke down and wept. He though he was alone, until the Jedi knelt down, and put his arm around him.
"Don't worry. I'm here to help."
It took some effort, but Lortha Peel calmed down. The Jedi released him from his embrace only then.
"I'm sorry. I just…" Lortha could hardly utter another word.
The Jedi raised his hand. "Don't apologize. Now please tell me what happened. How can I help you?"
The water-monger, aged by his current predicament, took a deep breath.
"Two days ago, the mods took my daughter. They wanted 220 thousand," Lortha Peel let out a grunt.
"Water, right?" asked the Jedi.
Lortha nodded. "I gave them what they wanted. My daughter is still there."
"I don't want to sound obtuse, but did you contact the local authorities?" the Jedi asked.
Lortha could only shake his head. "They don't want to do anything," he then let out a choking, gurgling sound. "Can't hire bounty hunters either. That 220 thousand emptied me, and besides, no Bounty Hunter ever went to the Mods and came back alive, or stayed honest."
The Jedi tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"They say that the Mods are led by a dark Jedi. Or a Sith. It could be just talk though. I never saw the man," Lortha Peel said.
"If it is a man," said a female voice.
Lortha Peel lifted his head to see who was speaking. It was a woman as old as himself and the Jedi, but who still retained a hint of the beauty she clearly possessed in her youth.
"Mara, did you speak with your friend?" the Jedi asked raising himself and turning in her direction.
"She didn't have much to say, but a Hutt is calling the shots, and is ordering silence about what happened to those people cutting slabs of meat in the desert, as well as about a lot of other things," she said. "People were sent to investigate, but they've disappeared."
"What does this have to do with my daughter?" Lortha Peel asked. When the Jedi appeared, the flame of hope ignited in his spirit, but now these people were talking about unrelated matters. The water monger wondered if the Force was pulling his leg
"We don't know. Maybe nothing," the Jedi answered. "I understand that there's a young man called Dauvin Loneozner here. Can I have a word with him?"
"I haven't seen him since daybreak. He took the landspeeder. I think he went to get Zallite. Poor fool," Lortha Peel said, defeated.
"Zallite's your daughter, I assume?" the Jedi asked.
Lortha Peel nodded.
The Jedi and the woman called Mara looked at each other.
"What are you thinking farm boy?" Mara asked the Jedi.
"It's not what I'm thinking, but what I'm feeling," the Jedi answered back.
"And what are you feeling?" the woman asked.
"That this is all connected farm girl," he said.
The Jedi turned to Lortha Peel one last time.
"I'll do everything in my power to bring her back," the Jedi said.
Tears began to fall from Lortha Peel's eyes.
"What about the Sith?"
"I can handle that," said the Jedi.
"Please bring her back alive," the water monger pleaded. The Jedi just looked at him with a somber expression. Lortha Peel understood what that face was saying too well. Zallite might not come back alive. He buried his face back into his hands, and didn't hear the pair leave.
Luke couldn't help but smile. He hadn't flown through Beggar's Canyon in years. What made things better was that he was flying in his old T-16. Old memories came back quickly; he could almost hear Biggs speaking to him through the comm. He would have tried threading the needle, but right now, time was short; though he felt glee at flying his old airspeeder, the Force kept reminding him of a greater threat.
"Gazala the Hutt has his eyes on his cousin's old palace. You remember how the place used to be, right? A lot of immodest dancing girls and Jizz coming out of every pipe?" Mara asked with an amused tone of voice.
The Jedi Master smirked. He definitely remembered everything in detail. It was quite the crazy plan to rescue Han, but it worked. The Force worked in mysterious and hilarious ways.
"Are you still claiming that you were there?" Luke asked. Mara had told him that not long after they started a relationship with one another. She claimed that she had been there to assassinate him. Luke did believe her, but he always pretended not to whenever speaking about it to Mara. He liked having some fun at her expense. He never told Mara about the dreams he had, prior to their meeting, in which she was there, in that fateful day of Han's rescue.
"I was and you know it," she replied.
"Didn't notice you."
"I was wearing a shirt."
Suddenly, Luke felt a jolt in the Force. He looked at the sensors. Three skyhoppers – two T-17s and a T-20 – had just passed over them, flying in the direction of Mos Espa.
Something was wrong.
Luke moved without thinking, or rather, he allowed the Force to move him. The T-16 was suddenly turning around.
"Hey!" Mara exclaimed. "What's going on?"
"Gotta catch something."
Mara grunted. "I find your lack of an explanation disturbing."
Luke let out his own grunt while keeping his eyes on the instruments of the T-16. He accelerated the skyhopper, and the sensor soon showed the distance from the trio of skyhoppers getting smaller.
"They're turning around," Mara said.
"I was wondering when they'd notice," Luke remarked.
The three skyhoppers soon came into view. A normal individual wouldn't have spotted them, but Luke, even if he wasn't a Jedi Master and only just a mere veteran pilot, could see them clearly. He pressed the trigger on the control stick. The blast came out of the T-16' cannon and struck the first T-17 dead center. It exploded into several pieces, and the two companions quickly moved out of the way of the flying debris.
The remaining two skyhoppers returned fire. Luke rolled his T-16, barely avoiding a blast to one of the wings. The pilots did have some coordination, but the way in which they were flying their speeders showed lack of experience. They weren't weaving around as they should.
Luke reached out with the Force. There was something wrong. There was life within the cockpits of those vehicles, but it was almost comatose – subdued would be a better word to use to describe what Luke was sensing.
He turned around. The last thing he wanted was for this fight to reach Mos Espa. As expected, the two airspeeders came after him. As Luke was leading them along, he was moving his T-16 this way and that, avoiding blasts that would have finished him and Mara off if they had reached any part of the old Skyhopper. At least the old girl was holding up and not breaking apart with the maneuvers. Laze had done a good job with her.
Once the duo of skyhoppers were in a proper position, Luke pulled the stick. The T-16 climbed upwards straight into the Tatooine sky, and then came back down again in a loop. The other T-17 was in sight. Luke pressed the trigger and it was obliterated.
Still in the middle of a dive, Luke nudged the T-16 to his left. Now the T-20 was in his sights. He pressed the button. There was a pop, and instead of a blast, smoke seemed to come out of the bottom of the skyhopper.
"What happened?" Luke asked breathlessly raising his voice. He had thought he had a pretty good shot.
"The cannon must have blown up," Mara replied.
"How?" Luke asked.
"This speeder is old Luke," Mara said. "Did you think everything would stay intact after use of disuse?"
"It could have done that after I shot the other guy down!" Luke exclaimed.
The T-20, the last of the trio, had by now maneuvered itself into a better position. It began to shoot at Luke and Mara; the Jedi barely dodged the blasts, and Luke banked the speeder in order to avoid getting shot by more.
It almost worked. One of the T-20's blasts struck the tip of the T-16's wing. Luke quickly turned to his right to see that tip was a burning mess; his greatest concern was that there could be cracks in the wing's structure that could reach the base.
With the maneuvering that would be necessary to survive this ordeal, that wing could fall off sooner rather than later.
Luke pressed the trigger again just to see if the cannon would shoot. It would not. He frantically looked around, looking for a solution. There had to be a solution; there was still hope. It was then that Luke caught sight of something he didn't think he'd see again.
Right before his very eyes, Luke saw the Stone Needle. A massive pilar of stone with a loop on top big enough to allow a T-16 to fly through. He smiled. He was going to thread the needle after all.
"Hold on!" Luke said to Mara.
"I'm not the type to let go."
Luke accelerated the T-16 towards the loop, moving left and right in order to avoid the T-20's blasts, trying hard not to destroy the T-16's wing. At the moment the T-16 was upon the loop, Luke steadied the skyhopper, and flew right through it.
The T-20 was flying closely behind. By now it was too close to the loop to turn away without crashing against the side of the rock. Luke only had one chance.
He pulled back on the stick once more, this time harder and more abruptly. The T-16's climb was steep; Luke was worried that the wing would fall off, but it stayed in its place. Luke smiled, and started the dive. Luke could now see the T-20 as it was in the middle of threading the needle. He reached out with the Force. He could feel the surface of the skyhopper. Using the Force, Luke slammed the T-20 against the side of the hoop's interior. The T-20 was smashed into pieces, each one of them falling down around the base of the Stone Needle. Luke levelled the T-16, and began the descent.
"This reminds me of Nar Shaddaa," Mara said.
"It reminds me of a lot of other places," Luke said, responding with a light tone that matched Mara's.
After such a grueling flight, the T-16 made a soft descent towards the ground below. They soon reached the bottom. The remains of the T-20 were right there. Its pilot was a strewn mess spread across the ground.
Once Luke left the T-16, his sensation of unease increased. He slowly made his way to the body on the ground. His lightsaber was already in his hand.
Already, Luke could see that there was something very wrong with the fallen pilot. The Jedi Master could tell that the pilot was a Twi'lek – or was supposed to be. Both lekku had been severed, and mechanical bits were inserted into his skull in a most hideous manner. Throughout the pilot's body, mechanical components of a sort Luke had never seen before were embedded into the Twi'lek's flesh. Both arms were droid replacements. To make matters worse, Luke could feel something writhing within the pilot's body. Luke feared that this wasn't the end it.
He was right. The seemingly dead body rose up. Luke was fast. Strengthened by the Force, and with his speed quadrupled, Luke rushed towards the mechanized Twi'lek. The green blade of his lightsaber ignited, and an urging from the Force had him sticking it into the pilot's gut. Due to the proliferation of too many terrible holodramas, many believed that if you stabbed in the gut with a lightsaber, you could survive. This was far from the truth, as the ignited blade of a lightsaber would burn you from the inside. That was exactly what was happening with the mechanized Twi'lek. Stabs were worse than cuts, as a cut – most of the times – was in and out in an instant, while a blade that was stabbed in could linger within a body for as long as the stabber wanted it to.
Blood vessels close to the Twi'lek's skin began to glow, and in an instant, Luke could see tiny particles within them, as if he could see microscopic components being burned out within the Twi'lek's veins and arteries. Only when the Twi'lek's body was charred black did Luke remove his lightsaber; the body fell over, and shattered into several small pieces of coal. Luke stood over the remains, making sure to hold his breath so that no fume could enter his nostrils.
He turned away and returned to the T-16.
"We need to burn the other bodies," he said. That would mean going back and allowing the Peel girl and Dauvin to be in danger.
"I'll call my friend," Mara said, her comm in her hand. "I'll give the the coordinates. She has people that can do this."
Luke was surprised, but pleased to hear this.
"Tell them to use fire."
"I'm not blind Luke," she said with a small hint of annoyance.
As she spoke to her friend, Luke looked at the T-16's wing. He was happy to see that he had overestimated the damage done to it. The damage was just limited to a singed tip; the rest of the wing was still structurally strong. Laze had done a very good job indeed.
"She's got two teams on their way to both sites. They'll use flamethrowers, and they'll keep their distance," Mara said as she walked back to the T-16.
"Can you trust her?" Luke asked.
"Of course," Mara said as she walked to the wrong side.
"Mara. I'm the pilot."
"You had your turn farm boy," Mara said. "Zip it and get in."
"You never change," Luke grumbled out, but he sat in the passenger seat regardless.
They were quickly back on their way to Jabba's palace, now the base of the Mods and their leader.
"What sort of modifications have the Mods done to the palace?" Luke grumbled to himself.
"I wish I knew. I only have the old plans," Mara said.
And then, Luke felt it again.
"Mara!" he exclaimed. "Lower the speeder!"
Mara was caught off guard, but she was quick to compose herself. She looked at the sensors.
"There's a landspeeder down below."
The T-16 hovered down to the ground, before a poor spectacle. A landspeeder was battered and turned over. Luke rushed towards it. He quickly saw the unconscious form of the young man trapped beneath it.
Luke extended his hand. With the Force, he lifted the ruined landspeeder off the young man, and settled it away from him. He quickly ran towards the prone youth.
He had several injuries, but the most severe was a broken leg. The young man was lucky. He could have died of exposure beneath that landspeeder. Luke gently picked him up and propped seated him against a rock.
"Do have bacta there?" Luke asked, turning his head towards Mara.
"That and a lot of other things."
She was quickly by Luke's side, handing him a canteen full of water. Luke was giving the young man slight slaps to see if it would arouse him to consciousness. The youth soon opened his eyes. Luke readily placed the canteen against the man's lips and saw the water go down.
"Who…Who are you?" asked the young man, hurt, but seemingly lucid.
"My name is Luke Skywalker. You wouldn't be Dauvin Loneozner, would you?"
The young man's eyes widened a bit. "Yeah. How do you know my name?"
"I used to know your mother back in the day. I had a huge crush on her."
"Wait. You're Luke Skywalker," Dauvin said. "I remember mom and dad speaking about you. You're a Jedi."
Luke smiled. "Yes. Your mother was worried about you. What happened?"
"I came here to help Zallite. The Mods jumped me. They left me for dead," the young man was by now bobbing his head. Luke placed his hand on the youth's head; the young man closed his eyes.
Luke looked at Mara as she applied the bacta to Dauvin's leg.
"That should keep him out for the rest of the day. Have you called the emergency services?"
"They're on their way here," Mara replied.
"Well, we need to set up a visible shelter with a beacon for Dauvin until they arrive. When we've finished that, we're going to Jabba's palace and help the other youngster out. I hope she's as lucky."
Jabba's palace had the appearance of being abandoned, and that disturbed Luke the most. He lowered the macrobinoculars from his eyes. He then closed them in the hopes of finding something through the Force. It was difficult for him to find any signs of life.
Life was present. Things lived within the palace. But they did so with a faintness that alarmed him.
Mara had a holo-emitter in her hand which was creating a blue outline of Jabba's palace. The outline itself was old, and believed to have been made shortly after the Hutt's death. Depending on old plans was dangerous, but it was all they had.
"Seems Jabba had a secret passageway in case he needed to escape," Mara raised an eyebrow, "There's also a large amount of baradium beneath the foundations. Oh my."
That was a surprise. Luke and Mara looked at each other.
"How much?"
"Enough to melt the entire palace."
"They must have removed it," Luke said.
"I'm sure they didn't," Mara said. "Some people aren't that thoughtful."
"That's true," Luke muttered. He thought about it and let out a sigh. "People can be surprisingly thoughtless. For once, I hope you're right."
The hologram of Jabba's palace disappeared. It was replaced with the image of a male twi'lek. Luke recognized the face. He raised his hand and pointed at it. Mara nodded.
"One of the disappeared sand whalers. My friend's people also examined the remains of the pilots of the other two skyhoppers. You can guess who they used to be," Mara said.
"More workers," Luke said to himself. "How did your friend deal with the remains?"
"They used baradium to melt everything, once the scans were done. There was no physical contact."
"Good. We should get going," Luke said.
The couple retraced their steps and climbed down the rocky slope which had concealed them until now. At the top of the slope, there had been a good view of the palace, but now the elevation concealed the Hutt's edifice. Their path led them away from the palace, until they reached a rocky mound that was some distance from the palace. Luke stood in front of it with some amazement.
He had never known that there was an entrance here. The last time he had been to Jabba's abode, he had walked through the front door. All part of a plan that Han had always said was overcomplicated and silly.
A cracking noise came out of the mound, and it began to shake. Luke and Mara traded surprised glances. A crack formed in the middle of the mound, and part of it slid to the side, revealing the darkness within. There was no cool breeze coming out of it; the air was hot.
Clanking noises escaped the aperture before any figure appeared. In an instant, Luke's lightsaber was in his hand; the emerald blade was immediately ignited. He didn't raise it; not yet anyway.
A figure appeared.
At first, Luke thought that it was a droid. It walked like a droid, in that stilted manner typical of prototype droids. The figure was slim enough to remind Luke of Threepio. However, as the figure walked into the light, the Jedi saw the patches of skin here and there. Many in the galaxy had their body parts replaced with artificial components; Luke himself had a prosthetic hand; but what he saw was an abomination. More so than what had happened with the Twi'lek he had left behind at the base of the Stone Needle.
It took some time, but as the figure continued to approach, Luke recognized a face that once had female features. An eye with long lashes, the full lips and the structure of the right cheek bone was what revealed this; every other part of her face had some metallic contraption inserted into it. The other eye was an oversized lens that stuck out of the socket; the lower jaw was covered in a metallic plate, and a solid cylinder was coming out of the left cheek. Her head, bereft of hair, was covered in tubes that seemed clumsily inserted into the skull – almost as if they had been jabbed in by a shaking hand.
Seconds later a similar looking individual came out the opening. This one was similar to the first, but looked more masculine due to the increased height and whatever facial features remained visible behind the plating and tubes.
Both were naked – not that it mattered. Whatever parts they wanted concealed from vagrant eyes had been replaced with mechanical apparati.
Of the two, the feminine looking abomination noticed Luke first. A green light flashed from an oddly misshapen puck where the left ear was supposed to be. Her mouth opened and a horrific electronic wail came out. Had he been a younger man, Luke would have covered his ears; he had better control of himself, but the noise was still piercing enough to make him wince. Luke Skywalker raised his lightsaber.
The droidified woman raised her arm. It had been replaced with something that looked like the barrel of a blaster. Luke knew very well what he had to do. The blast came out, and was met by the green blade. The other one, the thing that was once a man, did the same, with the same result. In spite of all of the prosthetics, both moved painfully slow – indeed, that was all Luke could feel from them – that both were in pain.
Powered by the infinite well of the Force, Luke rushed in their direction. As the female looking figure was the closest, Luke attacked her first. The lightsaber came down and cleanly severed the woman's mechanical arm. Moving his weapon in a wide circle, he then sliced off her remaining arm, and both legs with one low swing. He didn't pause to rest, turning as the other opponent was already shooting at him; Luke deflected every blast and rushed at him, first going for the legs, and then the arms as he had done with the female.
Both were on the floor. The male's mouth opened, and gasped, letting out barely audible electronic crackles. Luke gazed into him.
He was suffering. His body was ruined from the inside out. He had once been a human. You could barely call him that now. This was not like replacing too many of your body parts with prosthetics; what had happened to him was far deeper than that.
Luke took a deep breath. This was not something he wanted to do. He turned the emerald blade of his lightsaber down, and then plunged it into the poor thing on the ground at his feet. The heat of the blade destroyed the body's torso; he then passed his lightsaber over the droidified man's head and limbs. Nothing but ash remained. He then proceeded to the woman; for a few moments, Luke could see the girl she had once been.
She said nothing, but Luke understood her plea. He did to her what he had done to her companion.
Once the ugly deed was done, Luke deactivated his blade. He turned to Mara. The holo-emitter in her hand was creating blue images of a woman, pretty as a doll, and a young ruffian.
"They were members of the Mods," she said, the holographic image disappearing.
The Jedi master turned to look at the secret entrance to Jabba's Palace. They were trying to escape. They couldn't.
"Let me see that schematic again Mara," he said. Once more, the plans to Jabba's Palace appeared. The Jedi's glare was intense.
"What are you thinking?" Mara asked.
"Thinking about what I have to do after I find the girl. Don't follow me," Luke said as he turned towards the secret entrance.
"Fat chance," Mara said, as she followed him into the darkness.
Things were becoming clearer to Luke as he penetrated deeply through the tunnel which would lead into the interior of Jabba's Palace. This had all started with the fall of that object from space; Luke could feel it. Camie had said that whatever had fallen from space could have been part of a spaceship, instead of a meteorite. The Jedi was beginning to feel that that was indeed the case. Within that broken part of the spaceship, something had reached Tatooine. Something which had to be stopped here and now. The sensation, that certainty, that this was the case formed a knot in Luke's gut.
The tunnel finally came to an end. Luke and Mara found themselves within an empty hall.
"This must be the B'omarr dormitory," she said. It wasn't quite necessary to point this out; the old plans did say that the secret passage way was superimposed over a previously existing looter's tunnel which ended in the B'omarr rooms.
"It's empty. I wonder if the Mods knew about this place when they moved in."
"Those two at least did. They were the only ones to come out, weren't they?" Mara reminded.
Luke pointed at the walls, and then at a breach that had been recently opened.
"This hall could have been sealed off before the Mods moved in," Luke opined. "Either way, we need to move."
The Jedi master walked through the breach. He didn't go further before he saw another figure, collapsed against the wall of a corridor. The figure was no different from the two others outside – a mess of machine and muscle clumsily combined; it was breathing with difficulty, almost in the same way Luke's father had within his tortuously confining suit and it's presence within the Force was very weak. It was apparent that this figure was dying. Luke approached the figure without activating his lightsaber.
When he got close enough, he was shocked. Behind all the metal and wires, Luke recognized the face. A face that had almost faded from his memory until this very moment. The face of one of his first students.
"Galeed?" he asked.
The mechanized man gulped air and began to wheeze.
"Hello Master Skywalker," said the man, his voice distorted by the machinery attached to the interior of his throat.
For a moment, Luke was still.
"You know him?" Mara asked as she crouched down.
Luke nodded.
"He was one of my first students. Galeed Hett. Also a native of Tatooine, though of a rougher region. He decided to leave without becoming a Jedi," he explained.
"I had to leave," Galeed said, his voice weak and less audible than before. "My mother was too sick to be left alone and I had to take care of her. That's what I told you."
"That's why I let you go."
"I was… I was wandering in the desert. Isn't it funny? I was thinking about leaving this planet. Leave the Mods behind. Go back to Aquilae. Mother is dead. I don't need to be here anymore. Too late for that now," Galeed's voice was getting weaker. "I wanted to be like my father. He was a Jedi too. My mother told me so, and she never lied to me. He was also a Tusken raider. So I guess I was like him."
"His father was a Tusken?" Mara asked, whispering into Luke's ear.
"Galeed was fully human back then," Luke whispered back, looking at the mechanical horror before him with sadness. It didn't matter what had been done to him; Luke decided that Galeed was still human. "His father being Tusken may have been a tale told to him by his mother. Unless the rumors about sand people taking human children are true, but I've never heard of a Jedi with such a background."
Galeed stretched out a hand. Luke took it.
"I saw it fall from the sky," Galeed said. "It stuck something in me. Something in my blood. It weakens the Force. I can't feel the Force like I used to Master Skywalker," Galeed began to shake. Luke grabbed him firmly. "It used me like a puppet. Had me bring it here and kidnap those whalers. The Mods didn't even know what was happening. It turned started turning them yesterday. The last ones were turned today. They didn't know either. The voice. I can always hear that voice."
"Galeed, your people took a girl. Where is she?" Luke asked, almost afraid of the answer his former padawan might give him.
"The girl?" Galeed said, as if entering a trance. "That thing had me pretend to be normal and to take her. It needs a queen. Drash and the other guy got away because it didn't have a queen."
"A queen?" Mara said. "For some reason, I don't think that's a good thing."
"What do you mean Galeed?" Luke asked, his eyes always on his former pupil.
"It needs a queen. It's hurt, and not working properly. Too many errors and flaws in its functioning. It's why the conversion process has been so slow and clumsy. So reliant on subterfuge. The queen directs everything," said Galeed.
"What did you do with her?" Mara said, her tone showing anger.
"Nothing has been done. Not yet. The process must be perfect. It sent out three skyhoppers to get better parts, and make a few more conversions," said Galeed, now gasping with every word.
Luke raised an eyebrow. He decided not to mention that he intercepted the three skyhoppers.
"Where's the girl?" he asked.
"In some sort of stasis chamber in Jabba's suite. Alive and well. For now." Galeed's eye began to twitch. He then raised his voice, "It sees us!"
With that last gasp, Galeed's life was over. Luke heard the sound of footsteps.
"Stand behind me," he told Mara. She harrumphed. Luke was reminded of old times. "Mara, those plans of yours seem good so far. Can they tell us how to detonate the Baradium?"
He could feel her shake her head.
"Oh great," Luke muttered, as the first clanking noises began to make their way into the corridor. The appearance of a shadow was the first confirmation that something was coming.
First appeared a metallic foot, and then, the entirety of three old battledroids from the Clone Wars came into sight. Luke was surprised. He had seen such old and derelict machines before; his father and old Ben had fought in the waning days of the Galactic Republic, and there were plenty of recordings of them from that period of time. He didn't expect to see functioning examples. Too many years had passed, and most of the droids had been destroyed when the Republic became an Empire.
"We are the Borg," said the droid. Luke had already done his research years before. The battledroids always said 'Roger roger' or something that made them seem more harmless and ridiculous then they were in actuality.
These new set of words and the intonation used while speaking them had a different meaning. Luke was disturbed by what was said.
Nonetheless, it also gave the enemy an identity. Luke now knew he was fighting against something called 'the Borg'. This enemy was clearly capable of controlling machines, and judging by what he had seen, it could control living beings implanted with mechanical devices.
It stuck something in me.
Those words echoed in Lukes mind. This Borg thing must have the ability to inject some microscopic substance into organic beings. He would have to be careful. The Borg may have imbued its slaves with the same sickening talent.
After its announcement, the battledroid didn't bother speaking again. It raised its weapon and shot out a blast. Master Skywalker's green blade rose to block it, and repel it back to its sender. One battledroid was down; two more to go.
Suddenly, a blast came from behind and over Luke's shoulder, striking a second battledroid. Another blast and the last one was down. Luke turned to give Mara a stern look. She didn't seem affected by it; she still smiled as she held her blaster-sword in her hand.
"Warn me next time," he said. He was sure she wouldn't.
They proceeded onwards, through corridors and stairs. A battledroid or a droideka would come to intercept them; the droideka was too old to form a shield or roll. Both were ridiculously easy to eliminate. The defense was shockingly deficient; Galeed had said that this Borg thing was weaker than it should be. Yet Luke still felt that this thing, if it were allowed to gain just enough strength, could become an existential threat, not only for Tatooine, but the entire galaxy. This was the best chance he had to eliminate this thing before it could grow. But he had to get the girl first.
More battledroids, and a few more droidekas came to block their path. Luke would cut them down; when she got tired of blasting them, Mara started using the blade of her blaster-sword in imitation of the Jedi Master. She was enjoying herself.
The techno-organic monstrosities started to appear once they arrived at the throne room. Luke had enough time to recall the very first time he came here. It had been a place were musicians wailed their Jizz; Leia and Lando had both told him about the Jizz and its quality – when he had arrived to speak to Jabba, the melodious Jizz had stopped flowing from the many instruments present. Such recollection was swatted aside when he saw the mechanical man stand before him.
Like Galeed, and the two others outside, this man and machine was a naked and ruined mess. He had once been a dark-skinned human, and that was all Luke knew about his previous form. Any body part the man could value was gone. The man-machine attacked; Luke was faster, making sure that he didn't come into contact with the mechanized ghoul, lest the same that had happened to Galeed would happen to him. With several swings, Luke removed the man's limbs and then his head.
Mara's blaster fire alerted Luke to the others. The machine-men were approaching from every corner of the throne room. They opened fire. The Jedi Master and his former lover deftly deflected the blasts with their energetic blades. Many of the machine-men fell to their own blasts, deflected back at them. Others were shot down by Mara Jade's unique weapon. Luke lifted his hand and used the Force to crush an enemy against the walls of the throne room.
"We need to hurry," Luke said. He momentarily glanced at the body of the thing that had been a dark-skinned man. He had wanted to bury his lightsaber into his chest and end his suffering. Luke wasn't sure that a decapitation might bring release, and he didn't have the time to properly destroy the body. What was sure for the dark-skinned man was sure for everyone else. There was only one way to be sure; Luke had been thinking about the Baradium ever since Mara had mentioned it.
Luke grabbed Mara's hand and they rushed to the turbolift; they got in, and it quickly took them to what used to be Jabba's suite.
The tunnel that led to the suite served as an omen to things to come. It was dark, and entirely covered in metal; Luke had been in the Death Star – this felt so much worse than that.
With the Force, he opened the door to Jabba's suite.
The thing, the Borg, was waiting for him. it was an even bigger mess than the mechanical monstrosities Luke and Mara had both seen before. Tubes, cylinders and plates jutted out from everywhere. What bits of flesh were visible revealed a complexion that was unnaturally chalk white; Luke couldn't tell if this thing had been human, of another species, or if it already been created in this sick way. It's imprint within the Force was weak.
"We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile," it said, with a voice that carried little life in it.
Luke kept his eyes on the Borg, but his attention was focused across the entire suite. He could feel the girl nearby. Her imprint in the Force was strong.
"We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile," repeated the thing, beginning its slow approach to Luke, its hand extended.
Luke extended his own. Ever since the Emperor's death, when he began his search for ancient Jedi knowledge to rebuild the Jedi Order, he had learned many different techniques. There was one that was frightened, that if it wasn't forbidden in the past, should have. It was a technique which allowed a Jedi to snuff out the flame of life from any living creature. Not kill it by breaking its bones, or choking it to death – but to take its life. It was something more apt for the Sith, yet only one walking the path of the Light could do it.
The old Jedi Master closed his eyes. He could feel the Borg approaching. He could feel Mara shooting at it, each blast hitting against a shield. He could see the small flame at the center of the Borg's being. As if he were putting out a small flame with his fingers, he reached out, and extinguished that little flame. Luke opened his eyes and saw the Borg just a foot away from him, fallen on the ground.
Luke never wanted to do this again.
Mara flew the skyhopper around the palace in a perfect circle. Luke's focus was on the Baradium buried deeply beneath the foundation. He wondered if he could start the chain reaction that would set off the explosion; but that wasn't his only concern, as he had to make sure that the explosion did not go beyond the palace. If he had enough time, if space wasn't so damned big – even with the benefit of hyperdrive – he would have called the other Jedi, but time was not a luxury he had. The Borg was dead, but its twisted legacy remained within the blood of those it had captured. Luke knew he had to finish it here and now.
Use the Force Luke.
It was Obi-Wan. He hadn't heard him in years.
Its energy surrounds us, binds us. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter. You must feel the Force flow around you. Here, between you, me, the tree, the rock, yes, even between the land and the ship.
That was a memory, Luke knew, but it came to him with such vividness. It was as if he was back on Dagobah, a young fool listening to Yoda explain the true nature of the Force. Images of the past flashed before him. Something else was projecting them into his mind, he was sure.
Luke wondered who would want to help him.
Right now, he couldn't think of that. He had to destroy what remained of the Borg. He accepted the help he was being given. He would question it later.
He felt the Force. He felt the Force between himself and the ground, and then, he started to feel the Force on a more microscopic level.
For a moment – a fleeting moment – he seemed to see a city, inhabited by small but powerful beings. That moment passed by quickly. Luke could feel the Baradium, and the atoms that composed it.
Do or do not. There is no try.
Luke couldn't help himself. He had to smile.
He did. He shook the atoms of the Baradium.
The explosion was instantaneous. Luke made sure that it remained within the palace. The great blaze melted away rock and metal until all that remained of Jabba's Palace was a molten pool which would soon solidify into a flat surface.
Images came into his mind then. He saw Dauvin and the girl reuniting – both had been carried away before Luke and Mara had made their flight over the palace. The couple grew old and had children. It was a lovely vision.
But then, Luke saw a vision of himself and Mara. They were young, holding hands and looking at the belt of silver stars over the night sky of a planet he did not recognize. But they were not alone. There was a boy with them. They aged, and the boy grew up and had his own family. Everyone stood together to look at the silver belt in night sky. One star amongst them seemed to shine the brightest.
This will come to pass. We promise you.
Luke did not recognize the voice, but it was warm and without malice. He then slipped into unconsciousness.
Even with the dark gray surroundings, the ziggurat stood out. The hologram had not shown how truly black it was – how the ziggurat seemed to devour all of the light that came into contact with it. The blackness seemed to surpass that of the empty void between the stars itself. From afar, he could not discern any feature – it seemed to him like a simple black shape – a flat triangle with its pointed tip cut off. The dark energy that it emanated was clear to perceive however, and Darth Krayt knew that this structure was ancient. He could feel it.
As the distance between himself and the ziggurat was shortened, Darth Krayt took note that he could still not see any feature on the structure. It still seemed to him like a flat geometric form standing on the grey icy ground of Exegol.
Once he was just a few feet away, Darth Krayt could at last see the hints that this structure was three-dimensional; but the ziggurat's features were still concealed. He could barely see the stairs. A few more steps towards the structure, and he still couldn't see the stairs.
Darth Krayt took a step forward. What his eyes would not tell him, the sole of his left foot revealed. It was clearly pressed against a surface that was higher than his right foot. With a slight motion, Krayt took measure of the step's dimensions.
Behind him, Darth Nihl and a small party of three Sith acolytes waited near the shuttle. If Darth Krayt were to make any misstep, and fall while climbing the stairs, he knew that it would tell Darth Nihl that it was time for a change in leadership.
Or, they could just all take advantage of the fact that the Dark Lord's back was now turned to attack. Darth Krayt was always eager for a challenge; he hoped that would happen. Deep in his heart, he knew that having this love of challenge was what truly made a Sith.
He raised his right leg and began his ascent. No one attacked him then. Krayt had measured the length and depth of the first step, and had gambled that it would remain the same throughout the climb. The Dark Lord was correct. But then, he did have the Force to aid him.
The ascent wasn't as long or arduous as he had expected. In no time at all, he was standing on the top of the ziggurat, looking down upon the grey and frozen surface of the planet. It was then that he began to feel it – to truly feel the power of Dark Side imbued within the ziggurat. It surrounded him and burned him. The pain was excruciating; he gritted his teeth, and that was the only hint that he was feeling anything. No other Sith could withstand such pain; but pain fed the power of the Sith.
He couldn't help but laugh at the new Jedi presumption that Darth Vader had destroyed the Dark Side, and the silly notion of 'restoring the balance of the Force'.
The Dark Side was still there. It would always be there.
The time was now. Darth Krayt raised his arms. Through the Dark Side of the Force, he widened his awareness; he could now feel the cloned crew, sleeping within their ships. He could see their dreams, and their desire to serve the Emperor.
The Emperor was dead. These creatures created by the Dark Arts of the Sith and forbidden science would need a new center of attention. They were like the younglings of wild animals; Darth Krayt needed to imprint himself upon them, like a parent.
He could do it. The ziggurat was fueling him while it was causing immense pain, while serving as a scope to allow him to see each clone.
Which was what he did. He projected his presence upon the multitudes of slumbering clones. They would be loyal to him.
Darth Krayt raised his arms. He now looked at the gray cloud cover above. The dark clouds gathered around, darkening in shade; bolts of lightning danced between the clouds. Darth Krayt then turned his eyes back down, to the ground below.
It was perhaps his greatest exertion; Darth Krayt burned his very being into the minds of the clones, as the bolts of rage and hatred shot out of his arms and hands, towards the electrified clouds above.
There was a great flash of light. Exegol had never been so bright, not even if the planet had an orbit close to its star, or the clouds allowed the rays of such a star to penetrate the land below. The brightness was nearly blinding.
Krayt was aware that it was bright, but all of his thought, attention and power were focused on the task at hand.
The brightness was short-lived. Soon, the dark shadow returned to Exegol. For a moment, everything was quiet and calm.
And then the soil itself began to shake. For the first time since he had arrived on the top of the ziggurat, Darth Krayt, Dark Lord of the Order of the One Sith looked down upon Darth Nihl and the three acolytes that came with them. Nihl still stood, but the others had been knocked down. The shuttle itself was made of tough material, and though it did shake, it did not break under the chthonic forces.
Suddenly the ground began to rumble and then to roar. The surface of the planet for as far as Krayt could see, began to crack.
Great mountains rose up, too numerous to count, only to crack apart, and reveal the ships within. The sound was deafening, and now, geat bolts of lightning rained down from the sky; two of Krayt's acolytes were disintegrated when the bolts fell down upon them. The third lost an arm and let out a tremendous howl. Darth Nihl, Sith that he was, remained still, looking at his master with an intense gaze.
Darth Krayt always knew that Nihl would be one of those to challenge his position. But not today. Darth Nihl walked to the base of the black ziggurat, and knelt.
The Dark Lord climbed down the stairs; he did not need to see the steps to make a casual descent. He looked at the ships floating in the sky, and smiled. It was a nice fleet. He would certainly keep it.
One by one, they came in.
They entered the Observation Lounge and sat in their designated seats, with PADDS already on the table, to be used during the debriefing.
Janeway and Adams traded glances. The news they had was unsettling, not just because of what had happened light-years away to a potential ally, but due to the implications. For a second, the Enterprise's captain wondered if she could deliver the news in the proper manner.
Hapes had been attacked. It had been attacked brutally.
Of course, she knew what to do, and she was glad to have the power to act on her gut instinct, but at times, for split seconds, she wished she was another cog in the machine. A cog that wasn't forced into dangerous situations; a cog that could sip her cup of coffee in peace. She was sure that Adams did not share that sentiment. He was still haunted by the events of two years ago. Within his mind, he had returned to the C-57D, to the tragic moment his sweetheart had died.
They had both seen the footage. Janeway noted Adams' grim expression as he looked at the screen; Chancellor Organa-Solo had been kind enough to offer them two-dimensional images that could be displayed on their viewscreens with greater ease.
It was enough.
She also realized, after witnessing the carnage on Hapes, and who was involved, that she needed to have words with the sole representative of the Tellurian Civilization onboard. There had been too many rumors, too many whispers in the dark that needed an explanation.
Dr. Floyd was the last one to enter. Captain Janeway waited for Earth's representative to sit down before beginning the debriefing, which he did, after briefly looking at the view through the aft observation ports. She couldn't blame him for that. It was a good view.
There weren't that many more people there within the Observation Lounge. Lieutenant Commanders Xon and Worf were present, as were Commander Adams, Major Rico and Lieutenant Keffer. No one else needed to be there.
The debriefing had a very military appearance, judging by those present. Dr. Floyd was the odd man out. He was there because he represented Earth. It was necessary that he – and by extension, Earth – knew what was going on.
"Now that we're all here, let's get down to business," Janeway said gravely. Those present would know the matter was serious by her tone. "We've just received very disturbing news from the Republic. Hapes, the planet where we were supposed to meet and negotiate for the signing of our treaty, was brutally attacked by a military force unknown to the Galactic Republic. There are seven hundred thousand casualties."
Everyone shifted in their seats. Numbers were funny; it was believed that Stalin – a monster in human form himself – had once said that a single death is a tragedy, but a million deaths are a statistic.
Such sentiment was not shared within the Observation Lounge.
"There's more," Janeway added.
She turned on the viewscreen. The images were horrific. Charred bodies, collapsed buildings. The remains of the attackers however, was what was going to raise an eyebrow or two. She could see that some of the images were hardening the expression on Commander Adams' face, even though he was already privy to the information at hand, and had already viewed the footage.
"Are those the Borg?" Worf asked, having noticed one of the bodies. Janeway knew how familiar he was with them. He had actually been in one of their cubes, in the few seconds before the crew of the Enterprise was aware of the danger.
"Yes," she said. "But some of them are different."
New images were displayed on the screen. Some of the bodies looked like Borg, but there was something fundamentally different about them. The screen showed another body, this one was very different from a Borg.
"Cylons were involved," Major Rico said. This was a statement, not a question. He recognized those mechanical beings well. Lieutenant Keffer's expression wasn't so different. It was known that the Terran Federation and the Earth Alliance were cooperating together in actions against the Cylons. Janeway's knowledge of them only extended to what she had read from reports.
"We've heard some unbelievable rumors that they were allied with one another. These images seem to confirm the veracity of these rumors. I've already sent everything we know about the Borg and the Cylons to Chancellor Organa-Solo," Captain Janeway said.
"Captain," Dr. Floyd interjected, "I don't have the direct experience that anyone here has with these Borg and Cylons. To be honest, I'm entirely dependent on the material which was written down, rather than any eye witness account. But what I've read, and the video data which I've seen, doesn't seem to match up with what I'm seeing right now," Floyd waved his hand at the viewscreen. "Based on everything I know, which I admit isn't a lot, this alliance make no sense at all."
Dr. Floyd took a deep breath. "Every Federation report says that the Borg assimilate any civilization they encounter, and that their power is, for lack of a better word, overwhelming," Floyd gave Janeway a focused look. "Why are they forming alliances? Why are the Cylon even there? The Cylons are cybernetic. Their technology should have been assimilated and the Cylons themselves should have ceased to exist. And if they are equals in terms of power, they should be tearing each other apart."
Captain Janeway raised an eyebrow. Dr. Floyd was right. He had realized the implication that had bothered her the moment she saw the footage from Hapes. There was no good reason for the two groups to team up.
Janeway was still asking herself that question the moment she realized that the Borg were working with another civilization.
Why?
She remembered the words of Jean-Luc Picard:
"In their collective state, the Borg are utterly without mercy, driven by one will alone: the will to conquer. They are beyond redemption, beyond reason."
Such a civilization would not form an alliance unless for a truly pressing need. Or for another reason, one which perturbed the Enterprise's captain.
She had heard the rumors, whispered here and there, of something else within the ring coordinating the Borg and the Cylons. Such rumors made tentative references to the Tellurian Civilization. Every one of these whispers, these rumors, stated that the Tellurians knew more than they let on. They might even know why portions of several versions of the Milky Way galaxy had been transplanted across the unknown omniverse, to this reality. Janeway hadn't paid much attention to such rumors until now.
"It does seem that both the Borg and the Cylons have both been subjugated by an immensely powerful entity," Janeway answered, her voice lower than usual. She wished that what she was saying was untrue, a misinterpretation, nothing at all. "It's the only explanation"
Floyd had a horrified expression on his face. The idea of a powerful entity in space was not foreign to him.
"It's a horrible notion but everything we know and see here suggests that we have a powerful enemy who has taken over the Borg and the Cylons," she said bluntly. "For the most part, the Borg are a collective of beings linked into a singular hive mind. Individuality is something that does not exist within the Borg collective, but for one exception: the Borg Queen. She was the sole individual, providing direction and coordination to the collective. In other words, leadership. No Borg Queen would ever agree to form an alliance with other cybernetic beings instead of stealing their technological knowledge. Something else has taken over. Something has toppled the Queen and taken her place."
For a moment, there was silence.
"We're talking in hypotheticals here," Floyd said. "Is there a way to know more? To provide some evidence to the folks here and back home?"
"Not yet," Janeway said. She hoped to find out more after the debriefing.
Major Rico pointed a finger at the screen. It served to focus everyone's attention on something more concrete.
"That Borg looks like it has Cylon pieces in it," he said.
Janeway nodded. She had noticed it as well. This did not seem like a case of the Borg assimilating the Cylons, which they would normally have done. Normal Cylons could be seen amongst the remains, as well as regular – if one could call them that – Borg.
This looked like the hypothetical Enemy was performing experiments on its subjects. Which meant that its power over them was complete. If this hypothetical enemy existed.
"This attack seems to add further confirmation that the Borg are weaker than they should be," Worf added, holding in his hand a PADD that was giving him additional information. "I was there when the Enterprise encountered a Borg cube for the first time. It regenerated itself quickly after the Enterprise damaged its surface. This fleet protecting Hapes should not have been able to defeat this number of Borg ships," Worf looked down at his PADD once more. "Especially with the assistance of the Cylon basestars."
Worf voiced out something that several military analysts had guessed back in the Ring. For whatever reason, the transplantation seemed to have weakened the Borg – dulled their greatest strengths. It had been speculated that such weakness was temporary, but with the idea that the Borg collective, the Borg Queen, was being subjugated by an external force, it was suggested that the Borg's weakness was perhaps more permanent. Great news if not for the notion that something worse was behind it.
"Where did these Borg and Cylon come from?" Dr. Floyd asked as he looked at his own PADD. "I can see that the Hapes Consortium is located near the center of this galaxy, towards the upper right side of the screen I'm looking at here in my PADD. We more or less came out of the bottom right portion of the screen, and every report I have read, states that whatever contact that has been made with the Borg or the Cylons, has been done more towards the left, within the ring."
Once more, Dr. Floyd looked at Janeway.
Lieutenant Commander Xon cut in.
"There is trace evidence of a tunnel of distorted space connecting the Hapes Consortium to the upper part of the map which Dr. Floyd can see on his screen," he said like a school teacher. "Sensors also reveal a spike of energy at the origin of this tunnel. This spike is most likely an explosion. Given the data presented to us, I would assume that the Borg and Cylon possess – or possessed – a device that could rapidly transplant them from one point of space to another."
"The Borg already have this technology," Adams said. He had studied the Borg extensively since his first encounter with them. He looked at Janeway. The captain had already revealed all she had known of the Borg transwarp the moment she returned.
"It has been determined that transwarp cannot work with the same efficiency in this reality that it had in our own," Xon said dispassionately, "And the space-time distortion recorded here is of a different nature. I should also add that similar tunnels have been detected within the ring, as well as similar spikes in energy. All of this starts in the upper left portion of the Ring, if one is to look at the map in Dr. Floyd's PADD."
"What about the explosions?" Major Rico asked. "Are they accidental? Are they a natural outcome of the use of these hypothetical devices? Or are the devices being attacked?"
"That is difficult to determine," the Vulcan replied.
"Someone could be helping out," Dr. Floyd remarked with a hint of hope. "That's a nice thought."
"If true," Commander Adams added, reminding everyone not to get their hopes up.
Captain Janeway remained silent. Her thoughts once more turned to the Tellurians, and their supposed engagements. How fanciful were they?
She really needed to have a word with Ensign McBan. And he better not lie to her.
"Our knowledge is spotty, as of now," Janeway said. "Although it would be nice to have someone helping us out in the case there is a greater enemy, we just don't know enough to be sure. We don't even really know if there is a greater enemy. We have hints, and nothing more. I have already provided Chancellor Organa-Solo with as much information as we have on both the Borg and the Cylons, including the many rumors circulating within the Ring. I trust her to maintain a certain amount of discretion in this matter. None of what we've discussed here is to leave this room. This meeting is adjourned."
As the Lounge emptied out, Janeway made sure to summon Mr. McBan to the Ready Room in hopes of providing some much needed information.
Luke held the ticket in a clenched fist. He had half a mind to throw it away and steal the most convenient light freighter. Maybe a YT-2400, if he could spot one.
"Master Skywalked, is everything alright?"
Luke turned to Zallite. The girl was genuinely concerned.
"I'm a bit miffed," he said. "But I'll get better."
"I'm sure that Lady Jade meant well," Dauvin chimed in.
Luke smirked. "I know she did."
There was no doubt about that.
Yet he was still upset. Mara was gone. She was gone by the time Luke regained consciousness. The only message she left behind was a holographic image that said: "I'm sorry." That was all. She hadn't even left an explanation.
He looked at Dauvin and Zallite. They stood side by side, with their arms locked around each other. While he had been knocked out cold, Mara had given everything she possessed to Dauvin. What used to be the Lars homestead was now Dauvin's. If he worked hard and smartly, Dauvin could provide a good honest life for himself and the girl. They both seemed to have recovered well from their hardship, though Dauvin still had a patch of bacta on him. Zallite didn't seem to have gone through any sort of ordeal. Luke could clearly see them both standing next to each other until the natural end of their lives. He wondered if there was any chance that he and Mara could end up the same way. They were both old now, but there was still time, what little of it was left.
Luke's thoughts then turned to his son. The one he had never known. He wanted to see him. He wanted to stand there by Mara's side as he set eyes on the man that was his son for the first time. It was a selfish thought that would have earned him glares from a Jedi Master of the Old Order; but Luke didn't think the Force would be disturbed if the only thing he did was say hello.
Mara had left to find their son. Gone to Ograu for sure, but that was not her final destination. She must have thought, for whatever reason, that Luke standing there by her side when she did find him would bring more harm than good. She may have misread the Force. Or maybe not. He would have to go to Ograu was well, but something was telling him not to. He needed time to properly listen to the Force.
Either way, with the knowledge he now had, he had to look for both of them. He had to trust the Force to guide him the proper way.
He looked at the ticket in his hand again.
"The Halcyon starcruiser?" Luke said in disbelief. He had to wonder how Mara could afford such a ticket. A second later he had to remind himself that Mara had a way of getting things that didn't require credits.
"Lady Jade said that she had a friend that gave her that," Zallite said.
Luke nodded his head while a smirk graced his lips. That did sound like Mara.
"I think she was trying to make up for leaving," Dauvin added.
Luke shrugged. "You're not wrong kid," suddenly, Luke remembered something else. "Say, didn't the Halcyon starcruiser crash into Naboo during the Clone Wars?"
"I don't know anything about that," Dauvin said. "But we've been hearing all sorts of good things about it recently."
Luke opined that the Chandrila Star Line that owned the ship was relaunching it with all of the associated fanfare.
He gave the young couple a warm look.
The two lovebirds were still holding on to each other. Luke placed his right hand on Dauvin's left shoulder, and his left hand on Zallite's right shoulder.
"Be good to each other," he said, and then turned away. He then stopped to look back at Dauvin. "And take care of that T-16."
He walked through the spaceport, and made his way to the shuttle that would take him to the Halcyon starcruiser.
Ted McBan was looking out the viewport, comfortably seated in his favorite seat within Ten Forward. He was looking at Geonosis for one last time. He raised his regrown left hand and looked at it; the regeneration had been quick, quicker than it should have been. McBan had to assume had something to do with his Norstrilian heritage, and so many of his early years handling stroon. His hand still had the bright pink coloration one would see on a freshly regrown limb. The other Lensmen had mentioned going to the beach and getting tans after growing back their severed bits and pieces, and McBan now understood why. He would have to visit the holodeck and make sure he could tan his hand back to a tone of color that matched the other. The volleyball match had not been enough.
"I hope I didn't muck things up," he spieked through his Lens.
"Don't worry," replied the telepathic voice of the Unit. "It was best not to leave Janeway ignorant of what was happening."
"I told her everything I knew," spieked McBan.
"You couldn't lie to her. Besides, it may be good that Captain Janeway knows about the enemy," replied the Unit "As for the information concerning the patrol's efforts to stop the enemy, I can make her overlook it, if necessary. It was lucky for us that you had no idea about our actions against the Enemy's Mass Relays. Truly risky endeavors which have definitely revealed to the Enemy the extent of our knowledge."
"Did you destroy them all?" McBan asked.
"Of course," the Unit spieked. "The Enemy will have to take the long road to conquering this galaxy. No shortcuts."
McBan's secret meeting was momentarily interrupted when the waitress brought him his beer. He smiled at the girl and put the glass to his lips.
He tried not to scowl as the liquid touched his taste buds.
"Is the beer that bad?" the Unit asked.
"I might as well drink root beer," McBan spieked. "Bloody synthehol."
McBan suddenly stood up. "Guinan, do you have any real beer?"
"That's the beer you get per regulation," Guinan replied "I do have some cans of American beer stored in my office though. Norbecker Lite, I think…"
"Bloody hell no!" McBan suddenly exclaimed, almost speaking Inglish in his original Norstrilian accent. He had tried to taste Norbecker Lite when he was in Meeya-Meefla with the pretty green animal woman. To compare it with water would serve as a serious insult to water.
He sat back down and just looked at the view outside.
"Is it right to tamper with people's minds?" he asked the Unit telepathically.
"We're fighting against a great evil," the Unit spieked back. "Besides, Janeway suffered a minor tampering. She won't notice."
"Will it affect her?"
"No. Continue your good work."
Thus, the Unit left. Ted McBan was left alone to ponder. He really didn't like the idea that people's minds could be tampered with. Even if it was for the greater good, it was still an unpalatable idea. McBan hoped that the Unit would undo its mind-tampering once all was over.
If it ever was over.
McBan decided not to think about the matter any further. No good would come from it. he decided to enjoy the view. As he did this, the ship began to move, away from Geonosis, and deeper into the Up-and-Out. Suddenly, there was a light jolt, and the view showed not the darkness of space, but the blue swirls of hyperspace. McBan recalled something that a Fel settler of Geonosis had told him about staring into hyperspace – that you shouldn't. Yet it was still less frightening then the Nothing-at-All he was familiar with. He wondered where the ship was going.
It was angry.
It was peeved.
It was upset.
It was frustrated.
It was annoyed.
It was furious.
It knew.
Its use of the Mass Relays to launch an experimental attack on the Central Galaxy had at first been successful. The target, a system that glistened with technology, had been randomly selected so that it could determine if the Mass Relays could be used to expedite its cause. It had performed several experiments on its Cylon and Borg subjects. It made an attempt to fuse the two together to see if the combined force was more efficient than using them separately. The differences in efficiency were irrelevant. Combining Borg drones with individual Cylons was a waste of time.
However, the use of the Mass Relays did seem to be promising – right until the point that they were destroyed. This was what angered it.
It would have to punish the Reapers that were supposed to guard them. For all their power, they proved incapable of performing that simple task. Alien vessels not only streaked by and destroyed a few of them but they also managed to destroy the Mass Relays.
Images provided by its Reaper slaves showed ships that matched those of the recorded images taken of the many skirmishes taking place on the fringes of its vast empire. Ships that had powerful but unstable engines. Ships that seemed so antiquated, yet so sophisticated.
As bad as the destruction of the Mass Relays were, this revelation was beneficial. For some time now, it had suspected that its mind had been tampered with. It looked into itself and found some measly traces of meddling into its mind. There were gaps in its memory that did not quite match with the passage of time. Mere milliseconds that a godlike being would have difficulty in detecting, but the Mad Mind was focused, and made by Men more advanced than its foes.
It directed the many millions of eyes of Diaspar at the Ring, and began to make a careful scan. Every confrontation it had with this new foe was within the Ring so it was, without a doubt one of the many civilizations which the Mad Mind had dragged along during its escape from Vanamonde's cosmic grasp. A powerful civilization which undoubtedly could expend a large amount of energy.
Within a second, it had found what it was looking for. It saw the ships, and it saw the worlds which they protected. Many of them had been intended to be a part of its empire, but were instead snatched away. Too many had been snatched away for its liking.
With eyes of high technology, and a terrifying subtle mind, it spied on them. It had to be careful. It had to be very careful. It was gazing at great telepathic power; a power that could not be trifled with. It was so very careful, and its efforts were soon rewarded.
The Mad Mind had a name – the Galactic Patrol. With more careful perusal, it got another name – the Lensmen.
Powerful enemies that needed to be destroyed. It would be best to kill them all in one fell swoop. It would have to plan carefully.
Its attention shifted to its main plan. It looked to the part of the Central Galaxy that was closest to it. Everything was going according to plan. There were no delays; no unforeseen problems. Its champion, Starkiller, was living up to his name.
The many millions of eyes of Diaspar turned to the Central Galaxy. It saw Starkiller's carnage. His trail of destruction was delightful to see. Planets were devastated, some no longer the living globes they once were.
Starkiller's fleet was growing in size. The humanoids that the Mad Mind had made for Starkiller, to serve as his troops on the ground, were working splendidly, more so than the Borg Drones and the Cylon Centurions. The Mad Mind's champion was presently fighting an empire of blue men. The Mad Mind focused its senses and lenses at them and learned that they called themselves the Chiss. The Chiss Ascendancy. Not empire, but an 'ascendancy'. It was entertained, how some beings here and there avoided calling their polities, 'empires', even if they expanded through force.
So many did not wish to be villains, even though they were.
Regardless, the Chiss fought well. They fought hard.
They were losing.
With each battle a fleet, a station, a planet were lost, while Starkiller gained more. It realized that Starkiller was enjoying himself a bit too much. When it rebuilt the man's body, it had imprinted upon it the joy of dominance so as to further its ends. However, unchecked, such sentiment would have Starkiller wasting too much time. The Mad Mind sent out a message to Starkiller, to expand the fleet to the desired size, and then to move further into the Galaxy, towards the goal and not waste too much time in conquest and destruction. Even the Mad Mind's patience had its limits.
Wow. It's been almost a year since the last time I updated this story. The fault is mine. I've had a few health issues that sapped me of my enthusiasm and energy (constant vertigo is the latest issue). To add to my troubles, I've had to rewrite this chapter several times - I mean, I do know how my story is supposed to end, but some of the bits in between are sketchy and require more work (that and my interest is shifting to more original fare). I've been trying to structure my story like the novelization of a film trilogy, and each chapter has to give something to the overall plot. This one, I hope, shows that the Mad Mind is fully invested in the Central Galaxy, but due to its own limitations (some of which it is not fully aware of) cannot subdue or destroy by brute force as it could have done in its past reality. The chapter is supposed to show that some of these pokings and proddings have consequences, and I hope that I have communicated that well enough.
I will continue to make references to Frank Drebin whenever Commander Adams appears for as long as I can make it funny.
Norbecker Lite is from a movie called Beer, directed by Patrick Kelly, and starring Loretta Swit, Rip Torn, David Alan Grier, Kenneth Mars, William Russ, and some others I can't bother to look up. The whole kerfuffle with Budweiser immediately reminded me of this movie, especially the ad at the end with Kenneth Mars in a bathhouse. Take it in the bottle or take it in the can indeed!
Anyway, I hope that the next chapter doesn't take so long to come out. I have some interesting things planned out. In my mind.
Happy holidays, Merry Christmas, and very scary solstice.
