"This changes things," Sariss said. Her cool face matched the blue tones cast by the shimmering holorecording.
"Perhaps," Jerec replied, idly sliding two fingers across the image description. The computer-generated text was specific enough when it came to the details of the man's face. It had been logged in the Empire's files for some time. So this was Katarn. He sounded much dirtier than Jerec had anticipated, even for a mercenary. There were occasional stuttering pauses as the computer failed to describe the weapon he wielded, which flashed as it deflected monochrome blaster bolts fired by Grave Tuskens from offscreen. This was not surprising. The Imperial database had long since classified all data on lightsabers.
"My lieutenant tracked him as far as the aquifer, but I've not had any contact since," the swoop dash footage shrunk and the glowering, holographic face of Maw grew to larger-than-life proportions. Aside from the tubing taped to his shoulder, you could hardly tell he was still in Barons Hed's medical barrack.
"Scouts spotted smoke along the path," he continued, "I sent two swoops in to check it out."
"They won't find anything," Jerec waved, walking away from the console.
"No," grumbled Maw, "They won't."
Alongside Maw's face, a projected image of Gorc hung in the air, and Pic hung from him. The smaller Brother's face was screwed up to get a better look at the recording. The younger brother was intrigued by the human. There was a ferocity beneath Katarn's motions that rattled against the rigidity of his military training. Gorc's face was unreadable beneath his slitted helm. While his counterpart gawked, the elder Brother signed in Ancient Sith.
"'Could this be the work of the Sky Walker?'" Sariss translated, then answered, "No. He wouldn't risk an acolyte on such a personal mission. It's too hazardous for a novice Jedi."
"Such a heartbreak, that first trip home," reminisced Boc, leering at the miniature Katarn, "So much fear, desire, and disappointment," he turned a vorpal grin to Yun, on the opposite side of the projection, "Perhaps we'll make a trip to your birthplace, apprentice."
Yun ignored him, intent on studying Katarn's technique – such as it was. Mostly he swung the blade like a bat while making a mad dash to the nearest landspeeder. The dark youth did not fail to notice the injury that impaired his range of motion. He practically fell into the speeder. Still, that didn't explain the dozen dead Tuskens he left in his wake – and those were only the ones caught on video. They were still waiting on a head count from the Katarn estate.
Unprompted, he said, "I'm not afraid."
Gaze fixed, he didn't catch Boc's smirk or Sariss' eye roll.
"The scum can't be more than a dozen kliks from me," said Maw, "I'll finish what I started with his sire."
"No," Sariss said, not missing a beat, "Admiral Krugon has moved to open separatism. Our assets are fast dwindling. We can't afford to risk the Grave Tusken's loyalty."
Maw snarled, "This whelp is nothing!"
"Tell your lieutenant," she said, unblinking, "Until we bring the governors in line, you're grounded."
Maw growled.
Gorc signed again. Sariss broke her staring contest with Maw to interpret.
"'Humbly, the choice is obvious. This pouchling poses no threat to my Brother and I. We can be on the moon within the hour,'" Sariss nodded, "My thoughts exactly, Brother."
From the gloom of the bridge, Jerec spoke.
"No."
Sariss turned, "Jerec, time is of the essence."
"On that we are agreed, Sariss," he replied, "As you say, our resources dwindle. The Brothers' preparations cannot be delayed, and we cannot afford any 'disruptions' that might occur in their absence."
"Then what is to be done about the mercenary?" she said, exasperation undetectable to all but the sharp-eared Boc.
The orange light of Sullust flashed across Jerec's thin smile as he said, "Sariss, please, he is a Jedi. The Force itself has sent us an opportunity to prove our ways against the old. We must meet the Jedi Katarn in kind."
"Katarn is no Jedi," said 8t88.
In the highest hall of the Imperial tower in Barons Hed, the distant clank of AT-ST's marching their regular patrols was dampened to a dull thud, easily lost beneath the buzz of 88's servos. The droid slowly walked the perimeter of the bright chamber. At its center, an immense table held the reconstructed pieces of Morgan Katarn's star map. 88 continued to scan it as he spoke.
"Regardless of any antiques he's acquired, Katarn is a highly-trained infiltration and sabotage agent. He was the youngest Imperial captain on record – not counting residual staff from the clone wars, of course. His means and motives are military, not religious."
The droid tilted his head, catching the blue-green light dripping out of a stained glass window set in a cleft above. Fine particles hung still in the frigid air. As the evening drew on, the temperature continued to drop. Only one of the occupants noticed.
Apparently finished with his scans, 88 walked to a wooden throne facing away from the long table, "It was the tactically correct move to send a Dark Jedi to handle this personally. Katarn is uniquely qualified to penetrate Imperial security. If his target is the map, he will get here."
Yun stepped forward into the viridian beam, "Is the map his target?"
88 turned to face the young man, "A good question," he leaned back in his chair and let out an electronic whistle. From a side-chamber, his beast emerged. It crawled to its master's feet and curled by his side. 88 scratched its ears, ignoring the creature's flinch against his icy touch. Yun took an unconscious step back.
88 continued, "Since the war, Katarn has removed himself from the galactic stage. In attempting to draw him out, I found the only effective motivation was his first: his father. As Morgan's final work, the map is undoubtedly a high value objective for Katarn."
Yun nodded grimly, unconsciously adopting the flat affect that had been drilled into him during marching exercises.
"I can use that," he said.
"There is more, of course," 88 said, "Now that he blames Jerec for the late Morgan's death, I calculate with 95.3% certainty he will continue to pursue your master until one or both of them have expired."
"Unfortunate that you told him," Yun said, smirking.
88 removed his hand from the beast. It growled.
"I will remind you, without my services, the map would now be rubble beneath the boots of overzealous swoop racers. My actuarial functions are unparalleled. I have yet to hear any complaints from your master."
"I don't care about your chipset, tell me how he fights," Yun snapped.
88's photoreceptors flashed red.
"I'm a sociological analyst and cryptographer, not a master of Teräs Käsi."
Yun was about to say something he hoped was intimidating when a new sound caught their attention. The distant shambling of the AT-STs had been replaced by the buzz of blaster fire.
"Hm," 88 ticked, "That was faster than anticipated. My new model predicts he will be here before nightfall."
They listened for several more seconds. Even the beast raised a tufted ear. The firing stopped.
88 sat back in his chair, "My decryption is complete. I will begin uplink. You may prepare for Katarn's arrival," he waved a sharp hand.
Yun bowed, then stepped away. Reaching the door to another side room, he paused.
"What do your models predict for our duel?"
There was a momentary whirr as 88 updated his actuarial processors. After a final click, he said, "Factoring your contributions, we should be fine."
Yun slid the door shut behind him. He sat cross legged in the center of the room and lowered the dimmer with a two-fingered flick. As he began to center himself, a thought occurred to him: who was "we"?
The light of 88's holoprojector gave the room a cerulean tint. As Jerec confirmed reception of the digitized map, 88 stood and ended contact. At the far end of the hall, the turbolift set in the floor rumbled up. Katarn stepped off the platform, Bryar pistol drawn. Crouching in the rafters above, Yun smiled. Katarn's words echoed from below.
"I want the map, 88."
While his pet raised its hackles, the droid merely gestured towards the long table.
"It's all yours."
Yun took his cue and leapt. His yellow saber carved a gleaming thirty meter arc. He drove his blade into the center of the table. The pallid stone blazed orange, gold, white, and then the table erupted in molten fragments. Glowing rubble scattering across the hall.
88 and his beast were already sprinting to the elevator. Katarn covered his face with both hands – his blaster already knocked to some far corner of the room. Before he had the chance to recover, Yun flashed a sign he'd seen Pic use aboard the Vengeance. An eye-searing cone of amber light hurled Katarn into the far wall. He grunted as the wind was knocked out of him. His still-healing shoulder exploded in immobilizing pain.
"You know," Yun said, "In all my years, I've only known Dark Jedi, never one from the light." He paused, taking in the crumpled figure of his would-be rival. "Somehow, I expected more."
He pounced. Adrenaline pushed Katarn to throw himself aside. Between Yun's legs, he could see the glowing gash he had cut into the floor. With unpracticed technique, Katarn stood and drew his own saber. Yun adopted a wider stance, blade extended in his right arm.
Kyle kept his green blade pointing at the Dark Jedi while he sidestepped, frantically keeping his back to the wall. Yun's blade gave his face a jaundiced glow. His features narrowed like a dejarik player planning his next move. He was young, but that didn't give Kyle much advantage. He was still a Jedi.
This was exactly the sort of thing he used to joke about in Imperial mess halls: the nightmare every agent shared. Officially, everybody knew the Jedi were cowardly devotees to a primitive religion. Unofficially? He had seen recordings from the clone wars, and he thanked his lucky stars they had all died out. This wasn't like an assassin droid or a bounty hunter or anything else he'd had to face down. This was goddamn magic.
Kyle feinted a slash. Yun didn't even flinch. Kyle's feet found the ramp up to the elevator platform. He climbed hastily, swinging haphazardly back at the Jedi. He tried to remember his melee combat training, but his mind was too crowded with midnight horror stories about twisted minds, severed limbs, and fortresses reduced to rubble.
The Jedi wasn't following him. It was no comfort. Kyle glanced about the shrouded platform behind him. Nobody in the corners. Was that a smirk on the boy? Yun. Yun was his name. Why did he know that?
Memories and impressions, old and unfamiliar, supplanted the horrors in his mind. Relationships to cloistered strangers; visions of a young and eager man, ready to prove himself at any cost.
The yellow blade flashed. Yun – Yun liked to pounce!
Kyle leapt from the dais as the dark youth arced across the room. Again, his blade gouged out the floor where Kyle was standing moments ago. The mercenary whirled about and threw himself at the boy's back. With impossible speed, the Jedi's saber caught Kyle's green blade. Lightning crackled between them as Yun shoved Kyle's guard aside.
Green light flared and Kyle felt the blade just pierce his shield. He screamed as arcing plasma cauterized his left shoulder. Yun pressed his advantage with several one-armed thrusts. Kyle blocked with forms half-remembered from his days at bootcamp. More emerald flashes filled his vision. Yun's tactics shifted. All formal technique fell away as his body erupted in pyroclastic rage. He swung out with broad arcs fueled by a strength beyond mortal limbs. More green light, more burns. Kyle felt the generator whine as its last reserves drained away. He did the only thing that made sense. He ran.
Yun lept after him, again, and again. The floor exploded beneath the Jedi with each impact. Kyle fought to keep just a few steps ahead of him. He moved faster than he'd ever moved before – than he'd ever seen anyone move before. The still air of the hall whipped past him at hurricane speeds. Yun's frustration only mounted further. With a savage scream, he waved his arm through the air in front of him – and vanished.
Kyle's heart and lungs finally caught up to him. Wheezing, he found himself backing into a corner. He thrashed the air with his saber but caught nothing.
"How does it feel to be on the light side?" Yun's taunt echoed across the room.
"Weak?" came a whisper beside him, followed by the hum of a slashing saber.
Kyle gasped and swung his own blade up, barely deflecting the blow. Sparks arced across his vision, revealing a silhouetted absence in the shape of Yun. He cut wildly. His opponent did the same. Two voices cried out at once. They leapt apart. The smell of burnt flesh hung between them. Yun, with his free hand, felt the outline of the gash burnt into his hip. His eyes didn't move from Kyle.
"I'll admit," he said, wiping sweat from his eyes, "You're better than I thought."
Kyle found enough air to pant a laugh, "I'll admit, you're pretty much what I figured."
Yun smiled like a predator.
The two walked a slow circle around each other. Kyle accidently kicked a mound of debris from the shattered map. Both duelists spared a glance for the rubble as it skittered across the floor. Kyle looked up.
"Bet Jerec won't be too happy about his treasure map."
Yun gloated, "My master plots his course to the Valley as we speak."
It was Kyle's turn to smirk, "So 88 cracked dad's code?"
He could see Yun realize he'd let something slip. The Jedi's face turned pale and he flashed another sign.
Kyle choked. Everything was ears shuddered like an airspeeder hitting flak. He blinked hard, but nothing changed. Even with his eyes shut, the white haze was seared into his retinas. The Jedi was laughing at him above the tumult in his skull. Kyle's heart beat a cacophonous rhythm. He lashed out in the direction of Yun's cackles. A slick of sweat ran along his hilt, threatening to wrench it out of his grasp. He fled. His cut shoulder slammed into the wall and he yowled. Still more laughter followed him. He kept moving. He stuck his hand out along the wall. It found a door interface and switched it open. Without a thought for what might be on the other side, he slipped under the rising panel and pulled it shut behind him. His fingers scrambled to find a lock. He yelled with exasperation and drove his saber through the panel and out its twin on the opposite side.
Standing back, he rubbed his eyes with his balled fist. The fog remained. The sound of Yun's saber piercing the door screeched out. The panic in Kyle's limbs shuddered out of control.
A single voice, impossibly clear, spoke from far, far away.
"Kyle, you have nothing to fear."
"Rahn?" Kyle gasped, inaudible above the sparking metal.
"I am so sorry this has come to you Kyle, but you can survive this. The Force was strong in your father, and I know it is strong in you."
At the mention of Morgan, Kyle's mind filled with comforting memories. His father's smile and his warm hands, the soothing smell of engine oil in his beard. Many images were familiar – treasures he had kept close for years. Others were alien. They had the same warmth of years' spent being secretly cherished, but they were from another's eyes. His father was unchanged. He spoke in the same bright and implaccable voice and hummed the same Suloni folk songs as he held someone he loved.
The rhythm of Kyle's heart quieted. His breath slowed. Not even the clatter of the panel door falling disturbed him.
Rahn spoke again, "Let go of your fear. Turn to insight and instinct. Ignore what he's doing. What is he going to do?"
On any other day, in any other moment, it would have been nonsense, but in that impenetrable haze, Kyle felt something release inside himself. It passed beyond the boundaries of his form and into the world beyond. He was connected. Everything was connected. All the life around him: bound together in luminous energy. The swarming, bickering bacteria that curled in his gut; the Sul-rats cowering in the walls; the young man that stood before him – a thin sheen of sadistic triumph hiding a core of churning self-doubt. They were all so bright and beautiful. He could make out every detail. He felt the smooth surface of Yun's hilt in his hands, the subtle shift as he corrected his Makashi grip, the shifting weight along his arms as he drew back for the finishing blow.
Their sabers met with a pyrotechnic crash. Kyle's lips cracked as he smiled, all fear forgotten. Yun's blade slipped as he saw his opponent's unguarded glee. He shouted incoherent curses and slashed again and again. Kyle's arms moved of their own accord. He blocked, deflected, and parried with unerring accuracy. The hum and crackle of their sabers was a musical beat, the motion of their limbs a ferocious dance. Kyle drove the boy out the side chamber and up the ramp to the elevator platform. Yun grew more desperate, his attacks more harried. He screamed with every blow. Kyle could feel the sweat dripping off his brow and was glad he didn't have to worry about it falling into his eyes. His arms burned with a heat to rival his saber. His legs cramped under impossible duresses. Still they fought. In a momentary pause, Yun lept from the frey and crouched for one final pounce. His predator smile was gone, replaced by a feral sneer. He hurled himself off the stone floor.
Kyle's old scars and fresh wounds screamed as he twisted to swing at the flying Jedi. There was the faintest tug on his blade. Yun gasped and thudded to the floor. Like the sun cutting through a cloudbank, Kyle's vision returned.
He stood over Yun and pointed the tip of his saber at him. The boy was shuddering and trying to prop himself up on his elbow.
"Kill me!" Yun shouted, "Isn't that what you do to Dark Jedi?"
Kyle paused. You? He had never met a Dark Jedi. What did he mean by – oh. That must be what a Jedi did. Well, he was no Jedi.
He drew back his blade. For a brief moment, an image flashed in his mind. It was like a memory, or whatever you called a memory waiting to be made. He saw himself standing above a kneeling figure. Hatred boiled across his face and he slashed out at the unarmed form. It collapsed. Then the vision was gone and Yun was struggling to stand up. Relief, pain, and confusion moved in chaotic waves across his face. Kyle scowled. The absurdity wasn't lost on him. There would be consequences for this. All his years of experience told him he was making a mistake, but he couldn't deny that it felt right. His fight was with Jerec, not his errand boy. What was this Yun to him? Just a kid in the Empire, looking for self-assurance and misguided vengeance. Could Kyle hate him? About as much as he could hate himself.
Suddenly, a bright beam of yellow light shone from the roof. A porthole opened over Yun. Before Kyle could react, a tractor beam caught the boy and lifted him away. As if on cue, a hidden door opened behind Kyle and a team of storm troopers fired indiscriminately across the room. His saber swooped to deflect the shots, all thoughts of Jedi abandoned.
"You failed," Sariss said, crouched over Yun in the cargo bay. The shuttle's engines rumbled beneath them as it climbed through the Suloni atmosphere.
"I failed," Yun echoed, still gripping the pen-shaped panic button she had slipped into his robes some hours earlier.
After checking that he had fastened his bacta patch correctly, she moved to return to the cabin.
He tilted his head to follow her.
"You knew I would fail," he accused, faintly.
She stopped in the hatchway.
"I have faith in Jerec and his plans for the future," she turned to face him, "They are both worth defending."
The door sealed behind her, leaving Yun in darkness. The weight of a world pressed him into the floor.
Jedi Knight: Valley of the Lost is an adaptation of Jedi Knight: Dark Forces II and updates on the first Monday of every other month. The cover art is by jordan_jingli on Instagram.