A Living Nightmare
Chapter 9: A Choice
"Feel the pull of the Dark Side. Embrace it, cast aside the failing Order my friends."
Location: Nar Shaddaa- Iddo's ReachThis was bad, really kriffing bad. Agent Farrkus ground his teeth, fighting the intense urge to unholster his blaster and unload a few rounds into the terminal both he and the 7th Sister were watching. One of the screens had shown a direct feed from one of her micro Viper droids, now completely cut off. Keeping his rage in check, the aging human looked to the technician at the terminal—her eyes wide with panic as she typed frantically.
"Is there anything?" he barked, one clenched hand gripping the back of the chair as he leaned in urgently to see the full array of screens. "Did that kid send anything usable?" He shot a quick, sidelong glance at the 7th Sister, hoping Katari would let his blatant disrespect slide during this moment of crisis. The entire operation had just been blown to space dust because of the young Inquisitor's bravado.
The technician—Corin-Jo, if he remembered correctly—was silent for a few moments, her hands moving rapidly as she scanned the computer system for the data being transmitted. It was nearly complete before everything went to hell. Agent Farrkus could only hope the 14th Brother had pulled through.
"I found it. There's a lot here, but it will take some time for me to—"
"Move," growled the 7th Sister, stepping forward briskly, shoving Farrkus aside and pulling the chair out from under Corin-Jo. "I will find their target. Use your connections, Agent, and find a way to contact Number Fourteen."
Corin-Jo looked at her superior in shock, bewilderment clear on her bronzed features. Farrkus sighed and nodded. "Come on, Corin. Let her do as she wishes." He turned to the door, allowing Corin-Jo to pass through, leaving the two alone. "I doubt he's alive if there's a Jedi involved. To think I trusted the hunch of a—" His frustrations slipped through the composed facade he wore. Farrkus knew better than to let it happen, but something about this mission, about these two Inquisitors, felt wrong. It put him on edge.
A second interruption, again from the black-clad Inquisitor. His voice caught in his throat, the air around him thickened. "I would not dare finish that sentence, Farrkus." Her right arm was raised towards him, the binding grip of the Force holding Agent Farrkus in place and twisting threateningly around his larynx. "Be a good boy and do what I tell you," she intoned, purring with a saccharine tone as the invisible claw released him, allowing his lungs to be refreshed by the stagnant, recycled air of the ISB facility. Farrkus gave a small cough, but said nothing, and left Katari Naju to her task. She had to succeed, to make up for her partner's blunder. As she searched the scrambled data, breaking through encryptions, she drew upon the dark side, seeking his presence.
Location: Nar Shaddaa- Kutter HideoutFive minutes earlierI was fucking pumped. Two months. Two months of doing trivial bullshit—helping around the base, moving supplies, cargo, meeting with the guys who sell the cargo—making sure no one got ripped off during transactions and everyone kept their heads. The whole works. Just another guy in a moderately sized group of instigators. Little gigs here and there to gain their trust, doing my best to pretend I could see. Some had their doubts, but I made friends easily enough with Jorn and Vorn around to vouch for me. They were the two Aqualish who had tailed us in the plaza. Idiots, but likable. And great at cards.
I kept tabs on what I could, meeting with the 7th Sister and Agent Farrkus whenever possible. Two days ago, we devised a plan to use her probe droids to slice into the base's main computer. I had guard duty tonight with Jorn, Vorn, and Dodrias—who had his head back on straight and didn't remember anything after his capture. He was the wild card, but Jorn and Vorn were easy enough to get in on the plan.
It was Agent Farrkus who smelled the trap a mile away, and I agreed. It was a trap, plain and simple. Anyone managing a group this large knows better than to leave an entire "friend" group alone unless they expect them to screw up.
I crept through the dimly lit corridors of the Kutter hideout, my senses on high alert, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I moved silently, my breath steady as I listened for any sign of approaching footsteps. Jorn, Vorn, and Dodrias were covering for me, keeping an eye out. I felt a pang of guilt—they didn't know what I was really up to. Not until I slipped into their minds, bending their will, convincing them to follow my orders without question. It wasn't easy. Dodrias, in particular, had been difficult. He'd clutched his head in confusion as I pushed into his fractured mind—broken and pieced back together, it was like trying to bend an old, dried-out branch without snapping it.
Invading someone's mind was a strange, unsettling experience. It felt almost intimate, like touching the deepest parts of their being. Their thoughts, their emotions, their fears—all of it became malleable under my influence. I twisted it until they believed they wanted to help me, protect me. Power like that was intoxicating, raw, and left me feeling dirty. But it was necessary. I needed them to trust me, even if that newly twisted trust was nothing more than a fabrication.
The door to the main computer room—the boss's room—loomed ahead. I glanced back to ensure no one was following. The coast was clear. I pulled out the key spoofer Dodrias had made, attaching it to the door's access panel. The device buzzed softly, lights flickering before the lock released with a soft chime. The door slid open, and I slipped inside, closing it behind me.
The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the computer terminals along the far wall. I took a deep breath, moving to the shuttered window. The 7th Sister's mini Viper probe droid was waiting outside. I used the Force to carefully lift the metal slats, just enough for the droid to slip inside. It hovered in front of me, its mechanical eye fixed on me before extending a tiny arm holding an earpiece.
I took it and placed it in my ear, the comm crackling to life. "Inquisitor," Agent Farrkus's voice came through, tense and clipped. "Report."
"I'm in," I replied, keeping my voice low as I moved toward the computer terminal. The probe droid hovered beside me, projecting a small blue light onto the terminal, guiding me to the correct access port. "Give me a second, I need to get set up."
The 7th Sister's voice followed, cold and impatient. "Make it quick. We don't have time for mistakes."
Farrkus cut in, his frustration evident. "I still think we should call this off. It's too risky. If they know we're here—"
"It's too late for that," I interrupted, senseing the droid move to the computer. "We're six feet deep in this shit already. Pulling out now isn't an option."
I glanced at the droid as it began interfacing with the computer, data streams flashing across the screen. "Besides," I continued, "something's off about Dodrias. I don't know what, but I don't like it."
A tense silence settled over the comms before Farrkus spoke again. "I don't care. If you feel compromised, you need to get out."
I was about to respond when the faint sound of speeders caught my attention. My pulse quickened as the unmistakable hum of repulsorlifts drew closer. They were landing outside, and my gut twisted in response.
"A few speeders just landed outside," I whispered, my anxiety spiking. "I think we've got company."
The 7th Sister's voice remained steady. "The droid is almost done. Hold your position."
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, using the fear of discovery as fuel. Closing my eyes, I let my senses expand, pouring my awareness into the hideout, feeling the movement of those within. The energy of the place was calm. the subdued minds of my new friends didn't seem to hear the ships. Then, something bright in the Force—a presence so loud in the Force it made me recoil. I gasped, stumbling back from the terminal. The Jedi was here. I repeated the information into the commpiece.
"Kriff, get out of there!" Farrkus's voice came through urgently, almost lost amidst the noise in my mind.
"No," the 7th Sister countered, her tone hard. "Hold your position."
I clenched my jaw, crouching behind the computer desk, pulling out my Westar-22 blaster pistol. My heart pounded as I tried to focus, to figure out my next move. No lightsaber, no more of the Han alibi anymore. The Jedi felt me touch his presence, he knew I was here. I was fucked.
Muffled voices came from just outside the door. Dodrias was talking to someone, his tone tense. Suddenly, Jorn and Vorn started shouting, their guttural voices filled with panic. The sound of blaster fire erupted, echoing through the corridor.
The door burst open, and I moved to rise, to fire, but a warning shot through me—a flash in the Force. The grenade detonated before I could react. The sonic blast ripped through the room, sending me crashing to my knees. Pain exploded in my head, my ears ringing, my hands wet with blood as I pressed them to my ears, trying to block out the overwhelming noise. I screamed, the agony pulling every thought, every sense, into a singular point of suffering.
"An effective tactic against Force users," I thought bitterly, my vision blurring as I struggled to stay conscious.
"Alonzo, are you alive?" Farrkus's voice cut through the comm, distant, almost drowned out by the ringing in my ears. I couldn't answer, my body curled up on the floor, every muscle tensed against the pain. I had been careless, stupid. I should have been faster, should have anticipated the attack.
The door opened again. The Viper droid let out a series of frantic bleeps before it was blasted to pieces, the sound muffled through my damaged hearing. Weakly, I reached for the earpiece, focusing all I had left on crushing it with the Force before anyone could take it from me. The last thing I heard from the commlink was Farrkus's voice, panicked. "Did he get anything?"
Footsteps approached, heavy boots thudding against the metal floor. Dozens of them—far more than I had ever seen in the warehouse. I could barely sense them, my awareness dulled by the pain, but there was no mistaking it. The Jedi was here, their presence a blinding beacon in the Force.
I tried to move, to fight, but my body wouldn't respond. A sharp sting hit my side, and everything went dark. Stun shot. Low setting. As the darkness swallowed me, I heard fragments of a conversation—voices that seemed to drift in and out.
"What did he send them, General?" one voice asked, unfamiliar.
Another voice, urgent, interrupted. "General, he sent everything. We must move, now."
Location: Nar Shaddaa - Skylanes
I woke up to the hum of a shuttle, my body swaying slightly with the movement. My head pounded, the lingering effects of the stun making it hard to focus. My hands were bound, my body slumped against the cold metal wall of the shuttle. I blinked, trying to clear my head, to get a sense of where I was and what was happening.
The memories came back in flashes—the computer room, the grenade, the Jedi. My heart sank as I realized just how badly things had gone. I had failed. Whatever information I'd managed to send, it had cost me everything.
I shifted slightly, my wrists aching against the restraints. The shuttle's interior was dim, a few figures seated across from me, their faces obscured by the shadows. I could feel their eyes on me, watching, waiting. My chest tightened, fear mixing with anger. I had no clue where I was, what they would do to me. I was a villain in their eyes, some creature sent to kill them. I kept quiet, breathing in some air until my lung decided it was time to make some noise. Harsh coughs erupted from my lungs, cutting the silence and gentle hum of the ship. Footfalls of heavy boots approached where I was sitting.
"To think, months of attacking Imperial targets, and Vader sends one of his kath hounds?" disappointment rang out with the deep and commanding voice of the aged soldier, not a soft Jedi fledgling the 7th Sister suspected. A voice I had heard many times before, in a previous life.
"Kota." I murmured under my breath, just loud enough for the Jedi General Rahm Kota to hear. A tall man, rugged features with deep scarring, broad shoulders armored by two metal shoulder pads and chest armor not too dissimilar from the Mandalorians. A brown cloak flowed from those shoulder pads, and wore a lightsaber that hung diagonally across his shoulder blades in an unorthodox sheath.
I should have known the moment we were sent to Nar Shaddaa. The attacks, hit and run, sabotage. It wasn't outright brazen attacks as he had done in the 'past', there was no Tie Fighter construction facility in orbit just yet. He was building up his little army, his loyal militia men. Teaching them how to fight against the Empire, and to resist us Inquisitors. He was smart, tactical with what resources he could spare.
"Han," he said, crouching to meet my broken eyes. "That's the name you gave us, right?"
His hand moved to the hilt of his lightsaber, and I felt the cool metal of the flanged emitter tip press beneath my chin. Anger flared from the man, a thirst for vengeance and justice urged him to activate his weapon. It was there, beneath the surface like a shark hunting an injured prey. Sooner or later, that hunter would devour its prey. Just not today.
"I could kill you right now. What you did to Jorn and Vorn was despicable." He let out a weary sigh, the threat of death delayed for a little while longer. I could feel the exhaustion in Kota, the anxiety emanating from his men as the shuttle sped through the Nar Shaddaa skylanes. "But I have a better use for you."
A grim smile tugged at his lips. "Your Imperial friends have likely discovered the target by now, but you can help us get inside faster. Before reinforcements arrive." 'Before the other Inquisitor arrive', he left unspoken yet clear enough for me to sense just barely on the surface of his mind.
"General, I've barely been in this sector long enough to help you get past any se—" I began, attempting to argue, willing to play along. This man was far more dangerous to me right now than he had any right to be. I just needed to live long enough to get those reinforcements here, delay him enough.
"Security codes, schematics—all of it, we have. What we need is extra muscle," he explained.
That caught me off guard. I couldn't help but chuckle, which quickly grew into a fit of laughter. It was genuine, painful, reverberating through the metal cabin. A few tears slid down my face, and I brought my shoulder up to wipe them away.
"Come now, General. You're willing to take that risk? I could kill you, and all your men if I wished." I looked up at him, sensing his echo in the Force—a vortex of energy, a whirlpool lazily circling a spout. Tense yet calm, ready to spring into action at any moment.
"You haven't," Kota replied, standing upright. "So, I offer you a choice. Die alongside your fellow Imperials, with the facility burning around you," he said, his voice cold, "or strike back against the Empire with us."
I scoffed. "That isn't much of a choice, Kota. This is the biggest gamble of your life. Why would you even risk it?" I prodded again. Truthfully, I had enjoyed my time within the Kutters, or whatever Kota's merry band of misfits called themselves. I'd expressed my distaste for the Imperial hierarchy to blend in. I could only guess that through word of mouth or direct sensing, Kota had picked up on it.
Kota sighed heavily. "I can sense your future, boy. And Vader won't always be your master."
Another bark of laughter escaped me. "Is it crazy if I told you, I've heard that before?"
"General, ETA 60 seconds!" the pilot shouted from the front. His voice rippled with fear and uncertainty—perfect fuel for the fight ahead.
Rahm Kota nodded in acknowledgment and looked back at me, waving his hand. The restraints fell to the floor with a metallic clink. One hand extended toward me, the other holding his lightsaber, the emitter once again pointed at my chin.
"What will it be, Han?"
Location: Nar Shaddaa - Low Orbit Traffic Controller Station 73826-S
"Clearance code is 17C-SK007", a young man's voice informed Captain Wiiks. A bead of nervous sweat rolled down the back of his neck. An Inquisitor was coming to the station for an impromptu visit! When asked for the reasoning, Captain Wiiks realized how foolish it was to inquire as to the purpose of such an important Imperial visitor. The code was correct, indicative of the Fourteenth Brother's security clearance. Records showed him as being tasked with investigating regional issues with another Inquisitor, the Captain noted taking a quick glance at the data pad in hand.
"You are cleared for landing.", stated one of the facilities many droids from where it stood at the communication terminal. The command center was full of them, far better to keep working than lifeforms that required rest. Only minimal sentient staff were aboard, a majority of them being Imperial security forces and extra personnel. Even droids were used for repairs and maintenance, paid for by a joint effort of Imperial credits and Nar Shadaa's ruling Hutt Grakkus.
"I shall meet the Inquisitor personally. Inform the troops to convene at the hangar A2." Wiiks stated, turning and briskly trotting his way to the exit of the command post, the dozens of screens illuminating his pathway with red light. The doors opened to another lengthy hallway with a turbolift at the end, and punching in the floor level needed, the lift moved down to the lower levels. The view was breathtaking, quadruple reinforced plasteel mesh glass kept the cold, turbulent low atmosphere at bay, providing a panoramic tube to look down at the planet from. It was his favorite part of the assignment, the only part he liked truth be told. It was a shame it only lasted for a few seconds, and the black, sterile corridors returned. Passages that led to the barracks, repair rooms were all on one side of the facility, nowhere near the hangar bay, so he had to rush from one side of the complex to the other.
The hangar doors awaited, Captain Wiiks stopped. The troopers were already inside he imagined, twenty of them in parade formation in anticipation. Adjusting his code cylinders, the Captain moved in, the doors opening and a standard hangar greeting him. The Imperial Stormtroopers stood as expected, and the shuttle was parked too. It was a type-B class shuttle, one that had seen constant use during the Clone Wars, often favored by the Confederacy of Independent Systems. A Sheathipede shuttle, a bubbled front with an extended cabin. It was a lengthier version of the class-E, and unlike the class-E was able to move a substantial amount of cargo instead of just a handful of dignitaries.
From where he could see, walking to the shuttle, Captain Wiiks noted the pilot was not to be seen. He continued to saunter over, boot heels clicking on the waxed hangar floor. He smiled with pride, noticing the troopers all had their own armor polished and cleaned. They knew he would not stand for unkempt gear, and this far out in the Outer Rim...the brig was a fine place to remind the unkempt of their failures. Now standing at the end of the collum of troopers, the ramp finally started to lower itself, giving the Captain time to steel his emotions and calm his nerves. Tales of the Inquisitors were just as rampant as those told of Darth Vader. Clad in black armor and grey garments, they were just as formidable and frightening. Pressurized gasses escaped the undercarriage of the shuttle, the ramp fully extended down.
"My Lord Inquisitor, it is my honor to welcome you.", Captain Wiiks greeted, bowing deeply.
"Thank you Captain.", the voice he had heard from earlier echoed into the hangar. Young, reminding him of an aristocratic senator he had met during an inspection of their cargo. It was a mess for certain, and the Inquisitor was certainly not to treat him as kindly as the gracious senator Oppo was it? It did not matter, as the Captain raised his head and saw the entourage the Inquisitor had in tow. A total of twenty five men, all armed and armored in roughly put together armor. He glanced at the one who spoke, seeing not the normal garb of an Inquisitor but that of a two-bit mercenary.
Instinctively, Wiiks reached for the side arm he carried. "My Lord, what is the meaning of this?" he pleaded, hand out, undoing the strap but not pulling his weapon out just yet.
The Fourteenth Brother cast a cautious look over the troopers behind the captain, then leaned in to whisper to the grey haired man next to him. "Your call Kota, Diplomacy or no?"
The General mulled it over for a few seconds, reaching out with the Force to feel where the tides were pulling. He knew the ship they used was logged, that the Inquisitors clearance code would be flagged immediately on entry. Another oversight in his haste to try to complete this operation. A flicker of movement and his green lightsaber ignited. No battle cry this time. The Imperial soldiers behind the captain started to scramble in panic, some immediately kneeled to take quick shots and some moved to cover as the militia men began firing on them, taking cover behind the ramp of the ship. Kota blocked and parried shots, using a defensive stance to keep what men he brought alive.
The Captain tried to move, but found himself unable to, frozen in place. His eyes widened, seeing the Inquisitor holding his hand up, calling upon the Dark Side to restrict him. No troopers had tried to extinguish the traitors life just yet, focused solely on the Jedi and his men.
"Please, my Lord why-" Another saber ignited, a blue beam of energy that whizzed through the air, removing his head.
"I hate it when they beg." Alonzo sighed, noticing some of the E-11 rifles were now pointing his way. A confident smile graced his lips. He was free at last to let loose, a fun excuse to butcher some Imperials before killing General Rahm Kota.