Knights of the Old Republic: Knight of Alderaan/17-19

Chapter 17 

You didn’t have to return her lightsaber, you know.

The voice in his head was right. Jhosua wasn’t obligated to return Lamyia’s lightsaber. In fact, it would probably be safer if she didn’t have access to a weapon at all. She was a Sith, and that was something that couldn’t change with a few words and an apology. Letting her have her weapon while onboard a cruiser with a few Jedi was practically insane, and it wasn’t hard to believe that there would be some mysterious casualties before they reached their destination.

Jhosua didn’t feel comfortable holding onto the strange weapon. Even though he was a soldier, a lightsaber was exotic to him, both foreign and dangerous, and he had no idea how to use it properly. He could have let one of the Jedi disassemble it, resolving the issue entirely, but they were as nervous around the weapon as he was. It seemed that the Jedi lightsaber was different from their dark counterparts in more ways than just blade color.

He returned Lamyia’s robes and lightsaber to her at the same time. She had been ecstatic, hugging him in a rather startling – for Jhosua – display of emotion. He hadn’t seen her for some time after she had reacquired her equipment, and he feared that she had went to plot the death of the entire crew and their unfortunate passengers. To his relief, she returned after nearly an hour, wearing the ebony Sith robes that he had returned to her. Its design was modeled around the garments of the other Jedi that were in the cargo deck with them, but it was complimented with a brown breastplate underneath over her robes and a few fanciful ornaments on the sleeves of her cloak. She had her lightsaber in one hand and a small red crystal in the other.

Sitting down, Lamyia placed her lightsaber in front of her and closed her eyes, ignoring everything around her. To Jhosua’s surprise, the lightsaber started floating in the air by itself. Was this the Force that the Jedi and Sith worshipped? The first time he had seen a physical manifestation of the Force was on Dantooine when Lamyia attacked him with a telekinetic whirlwind. He still wasn’t convinced; it must have been a sleight of hand. However, the more he watched Lamyia, disassembling her lightsaber without touching – or even looking at – the handle or its components, the more he became unnerved about the entire ordeal. Soon, Lamyia’s lightsaber was in pieces, scattered across the floor in an assortment of metal and crystals that didn’t look like they could fit together at all.

“Jhosua,” Lamyia called out to him, opening her eyes. “Come here, if you please.”

Jhosua crept toward her warily. Still not convinced Lamyia was harmless, Jhosua sat across from her, separated by the various odds and ends that were once part of her lightsaber. Lamyia smiled kindly, hoping to placate Jhosua and his skeptical attitude. He was unconvinced, and he remained where he was. A slight frown crept across her face when Jhosua refused to move, but she quickly hid it. Hoping to distract him, she pointed toward the red crystal that was at the center of the scattered pile before them.

“Do you know what that is, Jhosua?” she asked.

Jhosua eyed the crystal for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m afraid not. Should I?”

Lamyia shrugged. “Perhaps, perhaps not. It’s a synthetic lightsaber crystal. Only dark-siders who are true Sith may use them in their lightsabers. Dark Jedi who have them either looted them off a corpse or found naturally occurring red crystals, which are fairly rare.”

“Why tell me this?” Jhosua asked.

“I wanted to tell you that I was… am not a Sith, despite what you may think. I was a Dark Jedi Master during my time as Malak’s slave.”

A rojo is still a rojo,  Jhosua thought. He didn’t even know there was a difference between the dark-siders. “So if you were not a Sith, where did your red crystal come from?”

“When I fell to the dark side, I had a Sith Master teach me. When I came to him…” Lamyia paused. Jhosua noticed that her face blanched, and she trembled for a moment before continuing: “When I came to him, I didn’t know who I was. I had no name. I was purposeless. He gave me both. He trained me as if I was his daughter, and I came to love and respect him as a father.”

“What happened?”

She bit on her lip. The former Dark Jedi hesitated again, reluctant to continue. “I killed him. I killed him, Jhosua.”

“Why?”

“Memories. Memories poured into my empty mind like rainwater into a ditch, filling my head with thoughts – and ideas – I didn’t have before. I heard, I saw, and I realized things. I had once been a Jedi Knight before my fall, and I had friends, a family, and a name. I was not Lamyia N’hoel-”

“So you struck him down,” Jhosua interrupted. “Because you realized that you had been forced into Malak’s service unwillingly.”

“Yes. They had destroyed my mind, but they can never destroy my spirit,” Lamyia said. Her boldness faded quickly, though, and she shook her head at her own display of pride. “However, the dark side is strong. Revan was pleased with my actions, so he let me keep the lightsaber.”

“If you aren’t Lamyia,” Jhosua began, “then who are you?”

Lamyia grinned at the thought. Scooping up the parts of her lightsaber that were scattered across the floor, she disregarded Jhosua’s question and walked over to the cargo hold’s garbage chute. The lightsaber parts fell into the chute while Lamyia removed her ornate cloak and breastplate, throwing them in as well. Now wearing only her dark robes, she looked more like the other Jedi in the cargo hold. Hitting the wallpanel nearby, Lamyia watched as her old equipment was jettisoned into the space. She heaved a sigh of relief as she returned to Jhosua with a smile on her face.

“Why did you do that?” Jhosua asked.

“That lightsaber and those accessories were a sign of my failure. The sooner I separate myself from them, the sooner I can accept my shortcomings and move on. I betrayed the Jedi Order; I disgrace the legacy of my mother and father even by wearing these robes,” Lamyia said, pointing toward her clothes. She was visibly disgusted by what she wore, shaking her head and groaning at the sight of her attire. “I am Verita Ladola, and I was once a Jedi Knight.”

Jhosua’s eyes widened. There was no way that this woman could be the same bubbly, naïve Jedi that had aided him on Sluis Van. It was impossible. “You can’t be. Colonel Eto left you behind. It was a losing battle, and we were outnumbered, outmaneuvered-”

“Revan’s forces captured me after the battle,” she interrupted.

“So you should be dead,” Jhosua shot back. “The Sith do not take kindly to prisoners.”

“Now they don’t,” Lamyia said. “Darth Revan requested my audience personally.”

“Why?”

“He said something… something about my importance. I was the key to the war, he said. If he could capture me, then Geryon’s life was forfeit.”

“Geryon,” Jhosua muttered. “You said his name on Dantooine. Who is he?”

“He’s an old friend,” Lamyia explained. “We met on Coruscant. He had trained there for a short time, but then he returned to his homeworld…”

“He was a Jedi?”

“Yes.”

“Why would Revan want to kill him?” Jhosua asked.

“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me. All he said was Geryon was an unseen catalyst. I didn’t understand what he meant, and he didn’t bother explaining. After I met Revan, I was subjected to…” she paused, deep in thought. “Painful things. Horrible things. I don’t know what they did, but when they were done, I was no longer Verita. I was no longer a Jedi.”

Jhosua hesitated for a moment. For all he knew, this could all be an elaborate lie. He had no way of knowing if Lamyia was who she said she was, the Jedi Knight Verita Ladola. She could have been lying; this could have been an elaborate ruse. The Sith were known for their highly detailed and complicated intelligence operations. However, she had just destroyed everything that could have associated her with the Sith, and she had done nothing to harm him since they left Dantooine. She had tried to manipulate him with her mind tricks, – the voice in his head was quick to remind him – but Jhosua believed she made up for that by comforting the crying Jedi girl as they left the doomed enclave.

“I’m going to take a chance and trust you,” Jhosua said. “But if you do anything – I mean anything – to harm me or anyone on this ship, I’ll personally kill you faster than you can say ‘Sith spy’. Understand?”

“Oh, Jhosua,” she said, hugging him again. “I knew you would believe me. I just knew it! From the moment I saw you, I knew I could trust you. You worried me at first, I admit, but you’re definitely a good guy!”

“All right, all right,” Jhosua said. He tried escaping her embrace, but he failed. “That doesn’t mean-”

“Jhosua, I know you have doubts,” Lamyia admitted, separating herself from Jhosua. “I know that you distrust me just because I’m a Jedi. I know… I know the situation with your brother didn’t exactly endear you to us. But that’s okay. I’m just happy you gave me your trust.”

“Of course, Verita,” Jhosua acquiesced, cracking a hint of a smile.

***                                                                                                                  ***

Ralina grumbled as she searched her pockets for some extra credits. It was bad enough that she had been stuck escorting her Jedi passengers from Dantooine to Coruscant. She was tired of piloting these Force-users across the universe for free. Not only was it bad for business, it was simply dangerous. If she never saw another Jedi after she dropped these passengers off, she would not shed a single tear.

The worst part of her current predicament was her inability to find a vacated hangar on Coruscant. The last three hangars Fetcher had tried couldn’t identify her ship’s registration codes – most smugglers used false codes to bypass customs officers – and they refused to allow her to dock. But it was always something. If it wasn’t straight-up refusal, it was a stubborn Twi’lek dockworker who didn’t speak Basic when they finally landed.

Ralina nearly screamed at the Twi’lek worker responsible for the Hound’s Sapphire’s  hangar. “We. Are. Trying. To. Get. To. The. Jedi. Temple. Temple! It’s the big, fancy-looking building that everyone on Coruscant sees at least once during their evening commute.”

The dockworker mumbled something in Huttese, and then opened up a file on his desk’s console. Turning the screen so Ralina could see it, she realized that he had pulled up her file. She was several years younger, and she was wearing a Republic military officer’s uniform, but it was unmistakably her. In the corner above the picture, opposite of the biography and criminal record, was a label that read ‘Deserter’. He asked her a question in Huttese. She didn’t know what he said, but she imagined he was asking her to confirm whether or not she was Ralina Venli.

“Oh…” Ralina mumbled, suddenly realizing that the Republic’s files went farther back than she’d hoped. “That’s not me. It can’t be… I mean, no sir. Her hair is too long. And I don’t wear blue eyeliner… anymore,” she added under her breath.”

The Twi’lek employee seemed unconvinced. Shaking his head, he reached for the comlink on his desk, probably to tell his boss about Ralina’s presence. Jhosua walked up to Ralina as the Twi’lek was tuning his comlink’s frequency. The ex-soldier spoke up in Huttese, and after he and the dockworker exchanged a few words, the Twi’lek seemed less inclined to contact his superiors. Whatever he had said, it worked; the dockworker opened the doors to the hangar so the crew and their allies could leave.

“Didn’t know you spoke Huttese,” Ralina said wryly.

“My family’s business had some Hutt clients,” Jhosua said. “I had to learn.”

“Well, what did you say?” Ralina asked.

“I told him that your name was Lamyia N’hoel, and you arrived with a small contingent of Jedi who escaped the recent attack on Dantooine. He was less than convinced that you should escape the law, Lieutenant Venli, but a few credits was enough to buy his silence,” Jhosua explained.

Ralina winced. “So you found out about… that… I take it?”

“Yes, he told me about your military history,” Jhosua said plainly. A small smile escaped his otherwise serious expression. “Didn’t know you fighter jockeys were good for anything aside from flying your metal heaps, much less able to shoot a blaster pistol.”

Ralina appeared indignant, but she knew Jhosua was only teasing. “Very funny. Why don’t you march yourself out of here with your new Jedi friends?”

“Well, to be fair, I’m not going with the Jedi,” Jhosua clarified. He noticed Ralina’s apprehension – visible on her face – at the thought he would stay with her crew. “I can certainly handle myself from here. Thank you very much, Miss Venli. I’ll take my leave now.”

“Very well. I guess I’ll see you around the hyperspace lanes,” Ralina said, although she hoped she didn’t.

Jhosua nodded and kissed her hand lightly, much to her surprise. Before she could protest, Jhosua left the hangar with Fetcher, Manda, Verita, and the rest of the Jedi who had escaped Dantooine. Strange fellow,  she thought. Shaking her hand to alleviate some nonexistent pain, she proceeded up the boarding ramp to the Hound’s Sapphire  alone. She was glad to be done with Dantooine, the Jedi, and all of her unexpected passengers. She hadn’t even been paid. At this rate, she’d end up running a charity – or other legitimate business – before she made a profit. Scoffing at the thought, Ralina headed for the bridge.

They were done with their business on Coruscant, but they weren’t necessarily ready to leave. She had to deal with one more potentially troublesome passenger before she headed for the Outer Rim again. Ralina’s footsteps were the only thing that could be heard as she left the halls of her vessel and entered the bridge. Fetcher and Manda had left to purchase supplies, rations, and other necessities, leaving her behind.

That was just fine. Now she could speak with Delvin Cortes privately. Standing at the center of the bridge, Ralina eyed him standing near the viewport, staring at the mauve walls of the hangar beyond. “Delvin, if you please,” Ralina said, beckoning him to her.

“Yes, Captain?” he asked, turning in her direction.

“I have something to ask you,” she replied.

“About my status as a Jedi informant?”

Ralina was surprised by his sudden lack of tact. It wasn’t like him. Then again, she really didn’t know him at all. Delvin Cortes had joined her crew a little over a year ago, and she figured he was an ex-convict who was down-and-out before she picked him up. It was a believable story, and he did everything he could to convince Ralina and her crew that it was true. However, he apparently knew of the Sith attack on Dantooine, and he knew about it before it had actually happened. The fact he could have had another employer eluded her until now.

“Yes… about that. How long have you been a spy for the Jedi?” she asked, standing across from him on the bridge.

“I was an agent for the Jedi Order before I joined your crew. When you found me on Rhommamool, I was already under the employ of the Jedi. I was told to join your crew by any means necessary,” Cortes explained.

He certainly wasn’t kidding. When

He certainly wasn’t kidding. When they had first met, he had posed as a mechanic and nearly stole the engine out of their first ship, the Cerulean Wolf. It was a ridiculous stunt, and Fetcher was angry at Cortes for months, even after he joined the crew, but Ralina was impressed by his ingenuity and his ability to adapt. She offered him a position on her ship, and he had refused without question.

“Why?” she asked.

Cortes pondered the question for a moment, as if it actually entailed a great deal of thought. Scratching his jet-black hair, he hoped to make the charade more believable, but Ralina clearly wasn’t buying it. “I am unsure if I’m at liberty to speak,” Cortes noted.

“Would you like me to put ‘liberty’ through your skull?” Ralina motioned toward a blaster pistol at her side.

“That won’t be necessary,” Cortes said, sighing. “You should know that I never did anything to undermine the status or condition of you or the rest of the crew. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

“Oh? Explain.”

“Do you recall when we were nearly ambushed by the Leviathan after raiding Convict’s Dawn ? It was I who requested the aid of the Jedi. I was to ensure that our crew would be able to transport Gaiel and his companion to Polus without delays, and to make sure that they could readily continue on their way to Coruscant. And, as you know, I kept the rest of the crew from falling prey to the Sith fleet over Dantooine.”

“Were you responsible for setting us up with those jobs from that deplorable Jedi before we met the Nautolan Jedi and his friend?”

“That ‘deplorable Jedi’ is my boss. So yes,” Cortes said dryly.

“Why?” Ralina asked again. She tried to hide it, but the pain of his betrayal was evident in her voice. “What… what could the Jedi want from me?”

“From you?” Cortes nearly laughed at the idea. “Nothing. With you? You serve as an able courier and a competent thief, should the situation arise. The Jedi are not above paying a few petty criminals to do their dirty work.”

“Petty criminals?” Ralina spat. The phrase was like poison on her lips. “How dare you? Weren’t you a conman? Weren’t you a crook?”

He said nothing. Suddenly, a thought dawned on Ralina. And that thought scared her more than Cortes’s betrayal.

“Are you a Jedi?”

He remained silent, but he realized that Ralina’s fears were realized through his suspicious lack of words. “Have you ever seen me use the Force? Or sensed that I could touch it?” he asked frankly. “Just because I am a Jedi informant does not mean I am a Jedi.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Ralina snapped back. “The Jedi can hide their Force powers from others. You know that, and I know that! You could have… wait… Did you say… sense? As in, sense you?”

Cortes nodded.

“How?”

“I was also sent to watch you,” Cortes noted, shrugging slightly.

“Watch me?” Ralina gasped, suddenly getting uncomfortable at the conversation’s direction. “By the Force, Cortes, why?”

“The Jedi thought you could have become a threat.”

“Threat?” Ralina repeated, shivering. “Why would they consider me a threat?”

Cortes stepped from her line of sight for a moment. He paced back and forth in front of the viewport, hands clasped behind his back. Sweat was accumulating above his furrowed brow, but it was more likely from the temperature of the bridge than the situation itself. With every step he took, Ralina’s heartbeat seemed to increase rapidly. She was weary and scared, and she didn’t know what Cortes was planning.

“Many Jedi have fallen since Revan embraced the dark side after the Mandalore Wars,” Cortes mused aloud, still pacing. “Several of them were quite upstanding and prodigious in their own right. Our task has always been to ensure that very few Jedi can stumble and fall.”

“Cortes,” Ralina interrupted him, her voice hoarse, “what does that have to do with me?”

“What is luck, Miss Venli?” Cortes asked, ignoring her question. “It isn’t random chance at its finest. It isn’t the permeating power of some gods. No, it is the Force creating favorable circumstances for those who can feel it.”

Ralina struggled to find her way back to her chair on the bridge, and then fell backwards into it. As she stared blankly into the viewport before her, Cortes stood by her side and placed a single hand on her shoulder, mocking her with false sympathy.

“Smuggler’s luck is no different, really. Your luck is no different.”

Ralina was silent.

Cortes knelt by Ralina’s side, his face level with hers. “When you have a Force-sensitive sister, isn’t it likely that you will have some of that power within you, Captain Venli?”

Ralina stood up, slowly, and ambled off the bridge. Her eyes focused on nothing in particular, and she could hardly force herself to leave Cortes behind and make her way to her room. He made no effort to impede her, content with remaining on the bridge and watching her suffer. She didn’t know – hadn’t known – that she had a sister. But it all made sense. From the moment her parents insisted on coddling her and keeping her under their watchful eye, to the ease of starfighter flying in the Republic Navy.

She didn’t know if she was Force-sensitive. If she was, wouldn’t the other Jedi be able to sense her? Surely someone would have said something. Not Cortes and his Jedi acquaintances, perhaps, but Gaiel and his friend would have noticed.

Was she the same as Cortes? The same as Gaiel? The same as all those Jedi she had met and hated. Why?

Once she was out of sight, Cortes turned to face the captain’s chair. He had done his duty to the best of his abilities, and that was enough. He didn’t have anything to collect before he left – he had no belongings. Everything he had belonged to the Watchcircle. He would return to them now and file his report. He was fond of Captain Venli and her ragtag crew. That much was certain. They were loyal, and they were prompt and capable servants. It was a shame the Jedi had no more use of them. His brief stint with Ralina and her smuggling crew was at an end.

“Jon,” he called out.

“Yes, Delvin?” the ship’s AI asked.

“Code: Dominus. Send an encrypted report of the events over Dantooine to Telerus Eston. Tell him that the Smuggler received the revelation, but the result proved that it was a false lead. He’ll know what it means.”

“Of course, Delvin. While I secure a private HoloNet channel to send the data, would you like me to erase the archives of our dialogs up until now?”

“Please and thank you.”

Jon didn’t say anything else, so Cortes presumed he was finished with his tasks. Fetcher’s AI had always been nosy; Cortes had to reprogram it quite a bit to ensure that Jon didn’t reveal anything to Ralina and the rest of the crew beforehand. And with a bit more gratuitous tweaking, the helpless AI was forced to do Delvin’s dirty work – namely, filing reports and sending data to Watchcircle Dominus – while he remained free from suspicion. But now he had to leave. He was no longer safe here, and the Jedi needed him elsewhere.

“Miss Venli,” he whispered, speaking his mind through words and the Force, even though Ralina could not hear him in either case, “do not hesitate. When the time comes, you must act. And you will act. The Force wills it.”

Chapter 18

The shuttle’s walls rattled softly as it progressed through the illuminated vortices of hyperspace. It was an old ship – older than any ship Raen had ever been on – and was never meant for extensive hyperspace travel. The engines whined and struggled behind them, desperately trying to keep the ship on its course. At first, the three Jedi were worried that the shuttle would fail them and they would be stuck in the endless abyss of space, far from their destination. Gaiel reminded them that it had brought them from Polus to Ambria, and they would be fine. They were not convinced, but after several days in the cockpit, they had come to trust that the antique could get them to Alderaan.

The cockpit was built for two people, and the three Jedi had to improvise to ensure that they could all spend time around the controls. Although they had started in rotating shifts that allowed one of them to take a break in the cargo hold, the monotony of their plan quickly grew tiresome and they opted to have Ranval linger around the cockpit while Gaiel and Raen took the two available seats. Eventually, Ranval grew tired of pacing and took a box from the cargo hold to use as his own seat.

Raen hadn’t spoken to either of the other two Jedi much since they had left Ambria, but he felt that he needed to. After all, they were both traveling with him to a world that was unknown to them, yet they were willing to fight for him if necessary. If they didn’t know what they were getting into, they’d be more of a burden than a blessing. Besides, there were still some issues that needed to be resolved between the three Force-users.

Ranval had fallen asleep against the back walls of the bridge, desperately in need of rest. Gaiel remained awake with Raen, both of them monitoring the ship’s systems as it progressed through hyperspace. Neither of them said anything to the other for some time, content with staring at the ethereal glow beyond the viewport.

“Gaiel,” Raen said, breaking the long-established silence. “Are you okay?’

The Nautolan’s eyes slowly drifted away from the controls, and he eyed Raen suspiciously. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I was just wondering how you were doing,” Raen admitted. “You haven’t talked much since we left Ambria.”

“Not much to say.”

“What about Dantooine?”

Gaiel sighed. “What about it?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Raen said. “You took the news pretty hard, but you haven’t talked about it at all.”

“I’m still sorting it out in my head. I realize that…” he paused, and then continued, his voice quieter than before: “It’s hard to accept that everything you’ve ever known is gone. I want to tell myself it hasn’t registered yet, but I know it has. I know it has…”

Raen nodded sagely, and then placed a hand on Gaiel’s shoulder. “I know what it’s like, Gaiel.”

“You can go back to Alderaan, Raen.”

“But what will be the same? I’ve lost too much for it to be the Alderaan I once knew.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Gaiel muttered. “It was so beautiful. The Jedi enclave. It was my home. My family, my friends, my… my life was there.”

“Your life is with the Jedi, Gaiel,” Raen said. “The Sith can’t take that away from you.”

“Can’t they?” Gaiel asked with a hint of disdain. “They certainly did their job on Dantooine. Who knows? Maybe Coruscant is next.”

Raen was silent for a while. He wasn’t quite sure what to say at first, although he was formulating a response in the silence. Gaiel’s gaze had traveled back to the console at his fingertips, monitoring the ship.

“As long as one Jedi stands,” Raen said. “The Sith cannot destroy them. The Jedi aren’t a place. Everywhere you go, you bring the Jedi with you. You bring the power and memories of those you knew with you.”

Gaiel slammed his fist into the side of his seat. “Raen! I want… I want to hate them!” he cried.

“Who?”

“The Sith! Don’t they deserve to die for what they did? If I could kill Darth Malak… if I could defeat him with my own lightsaber-”

“It wouldn’t bring them back, Gaiel.”

“I know that!” Gaiel moaned. “I know. I can’t – I don’t – hate them. It’s… I don’t know. I feel like I’m not coping with this right. I feel like I should be destroying something. I feel like I should be infuriated – raging – at the thought of their deaths. Belaya, Juhani, Kalthar, Dorak, Bolook… They’re all gone, and I’m here! I haven’t even paid them any respects, much less mourned for them!”

“It’s fine, Gaiel,” Raen said. “I’ve got an idea. How about you and I go to Dantooine after this is all over? We’ll go to the enclave and you can pay your respects there.”

Gaiel grimaced. “I don’t know, Raen. I appreciate the thought, but it might… I don’t know if I can do it.”

“If you don’t face this, you’ll never be able to move on.”

“Fine. We’ll work out something after we visit Coruscant.”

“Excellent,” Raen said. “I’m going to be in the cargo hold if you need me. I’m exhausted. See you on the next sleep cycle.”

“Raen!” Gaiel called out to the departing Alderaanian.

“Yes, Gaiel?”

“For what it’s worth, I hope the Jedi pardon you,” Gaiel said. “After six months of menial labor.”

Raen scoffed. “Gaiel, I did enough of that on Ambria. I think even the Jedi know what restraint is.”

“Northeus is on the High Council.”

“… Stang,” Raen mumbled to himself. “Later, Gaiel.”

Gaiel nodded and turned his attention back to the viewport while Raen left the pilot’s cabin. For his cold demeanor and selfish attitude, Raen wasn’t quite as self-absorbed as he seemed. Gaiel figured that the young man could become a powerful Jedi, given the chance. He certainly had the skill, and his occasional displays of sympathy could be extended to all life forms in need. There were kinks that needed to be worked out, but the Jedi could handle that. Raen was young, and the Jedi Masters had worked with stubborn students before.

The Nautolan chuckled to himself. Of all the things he would have figured Raen Benax was when he first met him on Dantooine a year ago, Gaiel would not have pinned him as a kind-hearted.

There is no death, there is only the Force.

***                                                                                                                  ***

“There she is. Alderaan,” Raen said with the hint of a smile on his face. After ten hours of sleep, he was rejuvenated and ready to do what he needed to do to free his homeworld from the Sith. “Beautiful, no?”

“She’s a tad round,” Ranval pointed out, staring at the viewport. “She could lose some weight.”

“Well, we’re about to destroy an entire Sith academy,” Raen said. “That’ll certainly slim her down.”

“All that hot air and egomania adds quite a bit of kilos, huh?” Ranval asked.

“No kidding,” Raen mused. “I suppose it’s not as bad as Coruscant…”

“Coruscant is just bloated,” Ranval agreed.

“Please stop,” Gaiel begged with a heavy sigh. “It’s hard to listen to this and stay sane.”

“Fine. I’m surprised that they don’t have orbital defenses,” Ranval noted. “They don’t even have any ships in orbit.”

“They are probably depending on secrecy to keep them safe, not strength of arms,” Gaiel reasoned. “They might not even have enough ships for a naval battle should the Republic arrive.”

“You’re probably right,” Raen said. “I hardly saw any actual combat ships during my childhood. Alderaan is a world of diplomats and artists. Aside from the royal family’s guards, I never saw an actual fighting force.”

“Then this should be easy,” Ranval said, cracking his knuckles loudly.

“Hardly. There’s an entire Sith academy down there. They probably have enough Sith troopers planetside to cause trouble, too,” Raen corrected him. “We’re three Jedi. This is going to be painfully difficult.”

“Well, we never plan ahead anyway,” Gaiel spoke up. “We’ll survive.”

“I’ll be sure to save you all a Sith Lord or two,” Ranval said haughtily. “That is, if they aren’t all scared to death of me by the time we land.”

“Raen, where should we land?” Gaiel asked, ignoring Ranval’s boasts. “I’ve received no directions from anyone on the surface, so I presume we’re safe to go wherever we please.”

Raen eyed the quickly approaching surface of Alderaan through their viewport, and it was a bit different than he remembered. The fields of vibrant green were still present, and great trees stood out amidst the plains. However, even from their high altitude, Raen spied obvious destruction in the towns and cities that dotted the surface. In the farthest corner of his eye, he saw the Sith academy – still standing in spite of its failing design – and his father’s home. On one hand, he was pleased that his family had not been evicted during the Sith takeover. On the other, he realized that he had no way of actually knowing if they still lived there.

“Raen?” Gaiel spoke up, waiting for an answer.

“Land at the East Alderaanian Spaceport,” Raen said, pointing toward their destination in the viewport. “We should be able to land there, and we can get information at the nearby cantina.”

“We always seem to go to the cantinas when we’re searching for something,” Gaiel muttered to himself. “All right, I’m setting her down now.”

Gaiel steered the small shuttle until it rested safely within the walls of a vacated hangar. The other two Jedi gathered what little gear they had while Gaiel made sure the ship couldn’t be stolen while they were gone. Once the three Jedi were prepared, they departed the ship and headed toward the end of the hangar. Walking by storage crates and bypassing a few heavy-lifting droids, the three Jedi approached the hangar bay’s supervisor, a Human male who appeared about Gaiel’s age, wearing a Sith officer’s uniform. He looked stressed, and the disorderly stack of datapads on his kiosk alluded to his inability to effectively manage his tasks.

“Hello, strangers,” the man said, distracted and hardly paying attention to them. “Welcome to Alderaan. I hate to inform you that your arrival was not scheduled with the Alderaan Traveler’s Bureau.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” Gaiel asked.

“It means I have to contact my superiors to see if you’re allowed to proceed beyond the landing zone,” the man explained, still preoccupied with other duties. “If you’d please return to your ship, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Let me handle this,” Ranval muttered to his companions. Turning to the supervisor, he said: “You don’t need to contact your superiors.”

“I… I don’t need to contact my superiors,” the man in the kiosk said firmly.

“You’ll open the door for us, so we can leave the hangar,” Ranval suggested.

“Here, let me open the door for you!” the supervisor repeated cheerfully. “That way, you can leave the hangar.”

“Move along.”

“Move along, now,” the supervisor urged them.

The doors to the hangar bay opened, and Ranval led the two other amused Jedi from the hangars to the visitors’ area of the spaceport. The Miraluka bowed a bit for his audience, clearly pleased with himself. Gaiel rolled his eyes at Ranval’s hopeless antics, but Raen was subtly impressed.

“What did you do?” Raen asked.

Ranval smiled widely. “A mind trick. Northeus taught it to me. It works wonders on the weak-minded.”

“Only the weak-minded?” Raen wondered aloud. “That certainly can’t be that useful.”

“Well, if you’ve got a strong mind, it might work on anyone,” Ranval mused. “I don’t care too much. When it works, it works. The rules behind it are for smarter Jedi than I to discern and discover.”

“First humble thing I’ve heard you say since we arrived,” Gaiel grumbled.

Raen nodded sagely at Ranval’s explanation, and the three Jedi returned their attention to their immediate surroundings. Very few other offworlders – spacers or otherwise – were found in the winding passages of the spaceport, and Raen figured that the Sith must have enacted some sort of blockade to keep travelers from coming to Alderaan. Nevertheless, there was no shortage of Sith troopers in the spaceport. Patrols navigated the passageways in periodic intervals. The three Jedi had hidden their lightsabers, but even so, their robes were undeniably the garments of Jedi Knights. If the Sith troopers had ever seen a Jedi before, they would have recognized them immediately, but Raen figured that it had been nearly twenty years since a Jedi could safely show his face on Alderaan. After the Qel-Droma family was exiled from the planet at the onset of the Mandalore Wars, the Sith had taken over. No one remembered what a Jedi looked like anymore.

The three Jedi arrived at the Dying Bantha cantina, but the two visitors didn’t bother asking Raen why he had picked this particular cantina. Truth be told, Raen wanted to revisit the places he used to frequent. He wanted to see if he could recognize anyone, or if the Sith had driven them out. His first indication that the Sith had changed some things – aside from the patrols – was the absence of the Trandoshan bouncer who used to guard the cantina. He had been replaced by a Sith soldier, watching bar-goers as they entered and exited the establishment. Wearing red armor that covered his entire body and a helmet that hid his face, he was supposed to look imposing and fearsome. Raen had killed enough to know that they were no match for a Force-sensitive, but they were strong enough to cause trouble in great numbers.

Entering the cantina without incident, Raen realized that the Dying Bantha had changed little since his last visit, nearly a year before. The bar rested at the center of the cantina, with various barstools surrounding its semicircle counter. The entire cantina seemed less busy than usual, and only a few spacers and mercenaries were playing games at the tables that lined the walls. The lighting was poor and the chairs were damaged; the cantina’s facilities had long since fallen into disrepair. They had enacted a no spice rule, Raen figured, because the cantina smelled more like bad liquor than he remembered.

“Raen, I have a bad feeling about this,” Gaiel admitted.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“The Force has been prodding me with warnings since we arrived,” Gaiel explained. “The dark side is eerily powerful here. Its influence permeates the entire planet. I felt it as soon as we landed, but I thought it was an overreaction. I was wrong.”

“I hardly sense anything,” Raen said, slightly reaching into the Force. “Where do you think it’s coming from?”

“Hard to say. It’s everywhere. It’s feeding off everything. I’ve never experienced such power,” Gaiel said. He was worried, this much was certain, but he was also confused. Raen figured he hadn’t expected such a powerful opponent to be here.

“That’s not good,” Raen acknowledged. However, he knew that if Gaiel sensed a powerful dark-sider, it was possible that De’dlay was still on the planet.

“So what’s the plan?” Gaiel asked.

“I’ll talk to the bartender. You know, to try and get information,” Raen whispered. “You two do whatever you want.”

“Awesome,” Ranval said. “I’ve got some credits to spare, and those pazaak tables are calling my name.”

Before he got very far, Raen grabbed hold of his shoulder, holding him back. “Could I borrow a few dozen credits?”

“Sure,” the Miraluka said, placing a few credits in Raen’s hand. “What for?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Raen said, leaving his companions to do as they wished.

Raen took a seat at the closest barstool to the back wall of the cantina. Placing his arms on the counter, he rested his head in his hands. The barmaids were attending to other customers, so Raen took a moment to meditate on his next course of action and strengthen his connection to the Force. Cutting himself off from the world around him, Raen delved deep into the power of the Force, drawing on its power to heighten his senses and increase his awareness.

Gaiel was right. The dark side encompassed Alderaan. Raen had to struggle to tap into the Force, and when he did, he felt unnaturally fatigued. It was difficult to meditate; he knew it would be strenuous to try and use any abilities. His breathing became labored and hoarse as he strengthened his connection in the Force, reaching a point where he could scan his surroundings.

To his surprise, there seemed to be four Force-sensitives inside the cantina, including himself. He hadn’t sensed the fourth individual, who couldn’t have been one of the Jedi with him, and it was clear that however it was used the Force to mask their presence. Something – besides the darkness – kept him from extending his mind to the mysterious forth person, and he couldn’t even identify where they were sitting in the cantina. This Force-user’s intentions were not malicious, though, and Raen suspected he or she was not a Sith.

A green-skinned Twi’lek female approached Raen and twirled one of her lekku flirtatiously as she leaned forward on the counter to get Raen’s attention. “What’ll it be, hun?” she asked.

Raen was pulled out of his meditation, unable to totally close himself off from his surroundings. “The strongest Aldeaanian ale you’ve got,” Raen said, still tired from his attempt at reaching into the Force. Smiling, he added: “I’m going to have a long day ahead of me.”

“Of course,” she muttered offhandedly. As she turned away from Raen to fetch a glass, she suddenly realized that she had seen the young Force-user before. “You? Weren’t you the one with the Iridorian friend?”

“Oh?” Raen asked, feigning ignorance. “Are you the same Twi’lek barmaid who served me the last time I was here?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” the Twi’lek said in a playful tone. “I recognized you as soon as you said that.”

“You’ve got a good memory,” Raen noted. “You must see a lot of customers.”

“No better than yours. Besides, I’ll remember you and your creepy floating stones until the day I die,” she countered, recalling the last time Raen had been in here.

“Where’s the bartender?”

“Who?”

“The old Anzati who used to own this place,” Raen specified.

“He’s dead,” the Twi’lek said, turning her eyes from Raen. “Sith killed him when they took over this place. I run the bar now.”

“My apologies,” Raen said. “Has G’aull Iulis paid off his tab?”

“No,” the Twi’lek said, checking her records on a datapad. “He still owes me for one drink.”

Raen’s eyes drifted toward the floor. G’aull Iulis had been his friend before he had left Alderaan. If he hadn’t returned, then he had most likely died on Sluis Van with his clan. Raen hadn’t heard reports of the battle, and he didn’t even know about how many soldiers died; however, he knew that if G’aull had survived, then he would have returned to Alderaan.

His last friend was dead. His only friend. His eyes burned as he clenched his fists on the counter. All he could do was keep on fighting and honor him once things had settled down. Raen convinced himself that was what G’aull would have wanted. Struggling to maintain his composure, Raen pulled out the credits Ranval had given him and handed them to the bartender.

“What’s this for?” she asked.

“His tab,” Raen said, pain lingering in his voice. He hoarsely added: “I’m paying it off.”

“I understand,” the Twi’lek said, placing the money in her trousers’ pockets. “So what’s the story, hun? Don’t got those runes with you today, I see.”

“No, I don’t,” he said flatly. He had lost the Sith trinkets he used to manipulate and train with before he had left Alderaan. “I’m… working elsewhere now. I don’t have access to them anymore.”

“You don’t say,” the Twi’lek said, only half paying attention.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the cantina as Sith troopers ambled inside. A few of them wrestled their off-duty comrades away from the gaming tables and scolded them for their actions while others lined up in front of the bar, blasters in hand. A few of the patrons tried leaving, uneasy in the presence of law-enforcement, but the Sith kept them inside. The Sith trooper in the crimson armor who doubled as the bouncer for the cantina entered after his entire squad was already inside. The visor on his crimson helmet had been opened, revealing the lower half of his scarred face and a bit of his brown eyes.

“What do you want?” the Twi’lek bartender asked. She slammed her fist against the counter, still holding Raen’s empty glass in her other hand. “I paid your tax earlier this month!”

“Watch your tongue, subhuman mongrel,” the Sith bouncer growled. Raen realized that his accent betrayed the fact he was an offworlder, probably from Coruscant. “Just because Lord Preux sees it fit to keep this miserable excuse for an establishment open does not mean you may speak in such a tone to me.”

“I am not subhuman, you monster,” the Twi’lek shot back. Throwing the glass in her hand at his face, he deftly dodged the projectile, letting it fly into the wall behind him.

“Such insolence,” the Sith bouncer said. “Your kind is useless for anything besides senseless violence and sensual pleasure, it seems. We’re here because you owe the Sith dues that have yet to be paid.”

“I’ve already paid your taxes!” the Twi’lek said, trying as hard as she could to remain calm. “We had a bimonthly payment agreement-”

“We are altering the deal. You should count yourself lucky that we are not altering it further. We should just destroy this place with you in it,” the Sith bouncer spat.

Raen grew weary of listening to his soldier berate the Twi’lek and her cantina. In fact, Raen liked this cantina – he had been here many times during his tenure as a Sith student – despite its unsavory appearance. Rising from his seat, he lifted an empty glass with the Force and threw it at the red-armored Sith soldier. The glass shattered against the Sith trooper’s breastplate. It didn’t harm him at all, but it caught his attention.

“Are you done?” Raen asked mockingly.

“Who are you?” the Sith bouncer hissed.

Raen brushed his cloak out of the way, revealing the lightsaber that rested on his belt. The group of Sith troopers immediately recognized the weapon. There was no visible reaction, but a few of them gasped aloud at the sight, and a few others muttered to each other. The Sith bouncer seemed unimpressed, and he reached for his blaster pistol.

“So you’re a Sith?” the bouncer mused. “I don’t care. Mistress Calay hardly cares what her students do outside the academy, it seems. I’m certain she won’t mind the death of a single pretentious student.”

Raen cut him off, grabbing his weapon with the Force and activating it in midair. His dazzling blue blade sprung to life, blocking the Sith bouncer’s instinctive blaster shot. This time, the Sith troopers realized that they were not dealing with a Sith, and some of them trembled as the realization of their foe’s true nature became apparent.

“You’re… you’re…” the Sith bouncer stammered.

“Yes,” Raen said with a wide grin on his face. That was all he had to say.

The Sith troopers opened fire on him without hesitation. The Twi’lek barkeep ducked behind the counter to avoid the blaster fire, but Raen remained where he was, deflecting the blaster bolts as he moved his lightsaber to intercept their green blaster shots. For eight Sith troopers, their accuracy was poor, and Raen – coupled with the power of the Force – could defend himself with ease. One of the Sith troopers was cut down by Gaiel, leaping from his seat and startling the Sith trooper with his own viridian lightsaber. Ranval lobbed his entire table at two Sith nearby, sending them crashing to the floor and giving him a chance to activate his lightsaber as well.

All three Jedi joined up in the center of the cantina, forcing the three surviving Sith troopers to fall back out of the bar and retreat. Satisfied with their victory, the Jedi didn’t notice one of the Sith troopers that Ranval had wounded stood up, blaster pistol in hand, to shoot at their backs. Gaiel alone sensed the Sith trooper’s malice, but he couldn’t alert his companions before the shot was fired.

Gaiel pivoted on his left foot, hopelessly too late to intercept the shot with his lightsaber. However, to his surprise, another lightsaber –with a violet blade – whirled through the air and deflected the shot before it reached its intended target. The redirected blaster shot pierced the Sith soldier’s throat and sent him to the floor in a crumpled heap. The three Jedi watched the lightsaber return to its owner, a cloaked individual with clawed four-fingered hands at the farthest end of the bar.

“Who are you?” Gaiel asked.

The individual held up a single hand, bidding them to wait. ''There are still Sith out there. They’re likely gathering reinforcements. We’ll have to kill them before they warn their leaders of your presence'', a voice echoed in their heads. Motioning for them to follow, the cloaked figure ran out of the bar, lightsaber in hand, toward the exit at the far end of the corridor.

“Are we going to follow?” Ranval asked.

“I didn’t sense any malice from that person,” Raen said, “and might be trying to help us.”

“We don’t really have any other options right now,” Gaiel said. “Let’s go.”

The three Jedi left the cantina with its alarmed patrons and employees behind, following the mysterious fourth figure. Several Sith troopers were already dead on the duracrete floor. Their blasters and vibroblades littered the floor, and the three Jedi carefully avoided stepping on them, not wanting to stumble or stab themselves. Any other travelers had already fled, and the patrols seemed nonexistent once they left the cantina. Either the cloaked figure killed the other Sith troopers, or they had regrouped elsewhere.

The three Jedi joined the cloaked figure by the door that led to the spaceport’s courtyard. The door was locked, probably closed by the mysterious warrior. Positioning themselves against the wall opposite of the cloaked figure, the Jedi activated their lightsabers.

''I closed the door. A small force of Sith troopers is waiting on the other side. Probably twenty or so, '' the figure projected their thoughts to the Jedi. Are you ready?

Gaiel nodded, and the cloaked figure acted accordingly. Removing the hood, she showed her face to the three Jedi for the first time. The figure had white hair that seemed shine in the dim light, racing down her neck and forming two lengthy braids that rested on her shoulders. Her eyes were milky-white, lacking pupils, and her skin wasn’t much darker. She didn’t seem that much older than Raen, but she was younger than Gaiel. Her brown cloak was still draped over her shoulders and covered her body, but Raen could barely make out a suit of red armor underneath it.

Punching the wallpanel by her side, the woman let the door slide open with a wheeze before leaping into the doorway. Green blaster bolts flew toward her immediately, but she blocked the incoming shots with ease. Her violet blade sent them back toward the firing squad in the distance, threatening to strike down the gunmen.

Once she had left the spaceport, the three Jedi joined her. Gaiel went first, running into the courtyard with his lightsaber in hand. He deflected a few stray blaster shots that approached him, but most of the shots were focused on their female companion. Raen and Ranval left after he did, using their lightsabers to protect themselves with equal effectiveness. The four Jedi had lined up side-by-side, deflecting the incoming blaster fire in unison, protecting each other as they crept closer to their targets.

The squad of Sith troopers was already down to half its original size due to redirected blaster shots alone. The leader, the red-armored Sith bouncer who had threatened the Twi’lek in the cantina, seemed to realize that if the Jedi were allowed to get close enough, they would cut down all of his men with their lightsabers. Grabbing a frag grenade from his belt, the red-armored Sith lobbed it toward the Jedi, hoping to kill a few of them and break their spirits. However, the female warrior knew what he was planning, and she used a quick burst of telekinesis to send the grenade into the midst of the Sith troopers. The ensuing explosion sent the Sith troopers flying in every direction, their corpses scattering across the courtyard’s pavement and the small fountains nearby.

Once she was sure that all the Sith troopers were dealt with, the woman deactivated her lightsaber and placed it on her belt. “Good work. We handled them nicely.”

“Who are you?” Raen asked.

The woman glanced at Raen. “Who am I? Don’t you know manners, whelp? A man should be courteous enough to introduce himself when he sees a stranger.”

“Give me your name,” Raen shot back. “I’ll give you mine.”

“Raen, please,” Gaiel said, chiding him. “I’m sorry, miss. We’re just a bit on edge. My name is Gaiel Remus. I’m a Jedi Knight. This is Raen Benax, and this is Ranval Messor, both Jedi learners.”

“My name is Khondine Basilaron. I’m a Royal Guardsman of House Latona and their retainers,” the woman introduced herself.

“Are you Arkanian?” Ranval asked.

Khondine scoffed. “Did the eyes give it away? Or was it the claws?”

“Neither,” Ranval said. “I can’t see, in case you didn’t notice,” he said, motioning toward the sash over his face. “I’m Miraluka. I sensed your Force-presence.”

“Ah. Interesting,” Khondine said. “So we are more alike than I thought. What brings you here to Alderaan, Jedi?”

“We’re here to alleviate the Sith threat,” Gaiel said.

“Oh? More for the task force, then,” Khondine mused.

“Task force?” Gaiel asked.

“Yes. Several dozen Jedi arrived from Coruscant to aid in our strike against the Sith and their leadership. Coupled with the Republic forces, they might be enough to help us reclaim this world for the Alderaanians,” Khondine replied.

“There are other Jedi here?” Gaiel asked. His voice hinted at his shock. “Can we see them?”

“Of course, Jedi. I have a speeder parked not too far from here. I’ll take you to the meeting place.”

Chapter 19

The ride from the Eastern Spaceport to the Valley of Jyrnn had been a quiet one. It had not been a long drive, but the four Force-users hardly paid attention to their surroundings. The Jedi had initially immersed themselves in the Force, reaching out into the Alderaanian plains in an attempt to trace the source of the dark side that was plaguing the planet. Their efforts were useless; they could not hone in on their targets without exhausting themselves mentally and physically. The dark side made it difficult for the Jedi to use their powers for long periods of time, and they rested for the remainder of the drive.

Khondine drove by a small pair of hills – Raen recognized them as the Hallowed Eastern Hills – into a valley beyond. To the surprise of her Jedi passengers, soldiers were scattered across the grassy fields that rested at the base of the hills. The Hallowed Hills provided shade from the setting Alderaanian sun, and a great shadow was cast over the entire camp of warriors. Once she had parked the vehicle at the entrance to the camp, Khondine bid her Jedi companions follow her inside.

He didn’t know what his companions were thinking, but the camp shocked Raen. He had never seen anyone prepare for battle on such a large scale, especially on a world that seemed as peaceful as Alderaan. A wire fence surrounded most of the camp, and wherever there was a gap in the defenses, a Republic soldier stood to admit or deny entrance. Khondine introduced the three Jedi to a particular Republic soldier, wearing the traditional red-and-yellow combat armor of the Republic Army, who let them all into the camp without incident.

Hundreds of tents were lined up in columns and rows throughout the camp. If it were an official battle, the Republic would have commissioned bunkers and bases to be erected. However, this seemed to have been a mission that the Republic had only just begun; indeed, it seemed as though they had arrived on the planet recently.

Khondine guided them by the tents and their occupants. Soldiers – some wearing armor, others in casual fatigues – dotted the campsite, sitting around their tents or strolling through the camp. The sound of idle chatter filled the air, and it was hard to hear Khondine answer Gaiel’s questions about the camp. Raen thought he smelled food, particularly fried nerf, coming from elsewhere in the camp, and he was surprised that they hadn’t restricted themselves to combat rations. Raen was grateful for Khondine’s guidance, because everything seemed to look the same after a while of walking. He felt out of place here amongst soldiers, and he kept as close to his allies as he could.

At the center of the entire camp rested a huge compound made of durasteel. It seemed to be their primary base, and Khondine explained to Gaiel that it doubled as the logistics center and their war room. Guards were posted around the metal building’s walls, eyeing anyone who approached with caution. However, very few soldiers dared to enter the paved area that encompassed the building, and most of them actively avoided it. Khondine handed her weapon to the guard at the door, and she urged the three Jedi to do the same.

“Do we have to give them our weapons?” Ranval asked, disappointed.

“Yes,” Khondine said, exasperated. “They’ll give them back once we leave. It’s a standard safety procedure.”

Ranval grumbled and handed his weapon to the guard, who smiled toothily under his helmet. The other two Jedi gave away their weapons with less complaint and followed Khondine and Ranval into the war room.

The entire room was illuminated by powerful glowpanels hovering over the holographic tactical display at the center of the room. This room was strangely empty, and all focus seemed to be directed at the holographic display. The room reeked of sweat, probably from some soldiers who spent too much time here after engagements, and Raen loathed the smell. Nevertheless, he pressed forward, following Khondine and the other Jedi. As they approached the table the display rested on, he heard a voice shout louder than the other voices in the room, hoping to be heard over them. Raen didn’t know what he was saying, but he sounded less than pleased.

Raen saw several individuals surrounding the holographic display. The man who had shouted was a giant, standing a head taller than his present company and he was easily much taller than Raen. He was wearing a Republic officer’s uniform: a pristine crimson dress shirt with medals and commemorations lining its sleeves and chest with black trousers and boots. He was still shouting, and his face reddened to the color of his uniform. A few other soldiers around him were trying to calm him down, but he wouldn’t listen.

At his left, a Duros male attempted to assuage the furious officer. He wore a similar outfit, and he had as many decorations on his vest – if not more – as the screaming man. His aqua-colored skin had been wrinkled with age, but his shining red eyes seemed vigilant enough to make up for his body’s failings. Across from the Duros, a comparatively young male, older than Gaiel, spoke to several of his own aides. He wore the garbs of a Jedi, red robes that matched the color of his Republic comrades. He was a portly individual, and his face was round like the rest of his body. He chortled with laugher at the screaming man’s plight, but he said nothing.

Finally, standing near the Duros soldier was a young woman wearing an elaborate light green dress that stood out amongst the military uniforms and Jedi robes of her company. Her delicate, pale fingers held onto the table before her; it seemed if she let go, she’d fall over. Her golden hair curled freely, beautifully decorated in spite of the situation. Her locks flowing from her head and reaching just below her neck, where the blue cloak she wore over her dress began. She seemed cold in this room, likely not used to the chill outside air of Alderaan, even though no one else seemed to mind it.

Khondine approached the woman at the table, bowing once the woman noticed her approach. The woman with the golden hair cheerfully welcomed Khondine, bidding her to stand and forgo the pleasantries the guardsman insisted on performing. Khondine stood by the woman’s side, and the three Jedi joined them even as the giant man kept screaming.

“How dare you?” Khondine hissed at her Jedi guests. “You disrespect Eliorae Latona, Princess of Alderaan?”

“What?” Ranval asked, clearly oblivious.

“Bow!” Khondine ordered.

“Please…” the woman with the golden hair muttered. “It’s not necessary, Khondine, really.”

“Princess, just let me handle this,” Khondine said off-handedly. “Pay homage to the last heir of the throne of Alderaan!”

Gaiel bowed first, not willing to incite an argument with Khondine. Raen and Ranval followed suit, kneeling before the young princess. Khondine seemed mollified, but the princess was flustered and didn’t seem comfortable with the show of respect. Quickly begging them to stand, Eliorae turned from the Jedi and returned her attention to the other soldiers around the desk.

“Where are the princess’s guards?” Gaiel asked.

Khondine’s steely exterior seemed to fade for a moment. Raen noticed that she clenched her fists together, fighting back the urge to respond inappropriately. “I am the last one. The Royal Guardsmen were annihilated during the Sith’s attack on our castle.”

“I’m sorry,” Gaiel said. “I didn’t mean to-”

“You didn’t,” Khondine interrupted, her resolve quickly returning. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the rebellion. Gentlemen!” she called out, interrupting the discussion they were having before them.

“What is it, Khondine?” the giant man asked, still fuming.

“We have some new warriors in our midst,” Khondine said. “That was Major Altesius. He’s in charge of leading field operations. The Duros is Colonel Mitos, and he is the commanding officer for the Republic Army’s taskforce here.”

“The pleasure is mine, Jedi,” Colonel Mitos said.

“Yeah, hi,” Major Altesius murmured dismissively.

“The three Jedi are Master Jram, Telerus Eston, and Jasparan Tes,” Khondine continued.

“Jasparan!?” Raen shouted.

The old Jedi Knight, who had been standing on the side opposite of Telerus, turned to face his new arrivals. Whatever shock had risen up within him upon hearing Raen’s voice had already faded away when he turned to them. “Why, hello Raen. How surprising to see you here.”

“What are you doing here?” Raen growled.

“I came here because I received orders from the High Council,” Jasparan snapped.

“He is right,” the stout Jedi, apparently named Telerus, said. “Master Jram was tasked with leading a group of Jedi to Alderaan to deal with the Sith threat. About forty Jedi are under his command, ready for battle.”

“We intend to remove the blight of the Sith from Alderaan,” Jram, a Quarren, noted. His Basic was garbled and hardly intelligible due to the tentacles that dangled around his mouth, but they managed to understand him.

“Do you have enough manpower?” Gaiel asked.

“I believe I can answer that, if we have concluded the pleasantries,” Colonel Mitos spoke up. Motioning for the Jedi to view the holographic display, he waited for them to settle in before he continued. “We were just finishing our plans for an ultimate attack on the Sith. Major Altesius, Telerus, Princess Eliorae, and I have been discussing possible scenarios.”

“In most of those, I get stuck guarding the princess,” Major Altesius groaned.

The colonel ignored him. “Our objective is simple. We must force the Sith to capitulate by any means necessary. We are not allowed to bomb them from orbit. The Senate has declared it… messy, and they’d rather not pick up the pieces left behind after that.”

“Besides,” Khondine interrupted, “bombing the Sith – particularly where they’ve entrenched themselves in civilian regions – would make us no better than them.”

“Indeed. To immobilize the Sith, we must strike at their infrastructure and chain of command. That gives us three primary targets: the capital city, the soldier garrison to the west, and the Sith academy.” Mitos pointed toward each area on his map of Alderaan’s surface, lighting up the target’s with a faint green glow. “Each one must fall, or our plan becomes ineffective.”

Raen thought about the colonel’s choice of targets. The garrison was an obvious choice. If they could eliminate the soldiers stationed there and disable their logistics and droid-control centers – both stationed within, as Raen recalled – then the Sith’s main fighting force would be crippled. The primary garrison doubled as the fortress that housed most of the materiel and mechanized infantry of the Sith, and destroying or capturing it would steal that equipment from their hands. Raen presumed that all of the Sith leadership was stationed within the academy itself, and capturing it would destroy any sort of chain of command. It would be heavily guarded, and normal Republic infantry would likely be unable to capture it. Raen presumed that Aldera, the capital, was a target chosen for morale rather than for strategy; if they could recapture the capital, then it would give them hope to move on.

“So, what’s the plan?” Khondine asked. “How are we dividing our troops?”

“We’re going to split our forces into three attack groups, each led by a contingent of Jedi Knights. Each one will attack one of our targets. It’s simple, but effective,” Colonel Mitos noted.

“It’s unnecessarily risky,” Raen spoke up. “You don’t need soldiers to attack the Sith academy.”

“Why not?” Major Altesius asked.

“It’s guarded by the Sith and their underlings. You wouldn’t need conventional troops to fight back – in fact, they’d just be a hindrance. You’d be better off just sending Jedi,” Raen said.

“How do you know, Master Jedi?” the princess asked.

“I…” Raen hesitated for a moment. “It’s because I-”

“He was a Sith!” Jasparan growled. “Once a Sith, always a Sith. Colonel, he’s trying to pick apart our strategy so we’re weaker for his real masters to defeat!”

“Or he knows his way around Alderaan,” Gaiel shot back, “and he’s just trying to save lives, resources, and time.”

“I agree with Jasparan,” Telerus’s corpulent voice rang out. “How do we know that this Raen isn’t trying to sabotage our efforts?”

“Is this true, boy?” Colonel Mitos asked. “Were you once a Sith here on Alderaan?”

Raen’s eyes dropped to the floor. There was no point in denying it now. “Yes. I was once a Sith learner here. This is my homeworld.”

“But you have no love for the Sith now?” Mitos asked, warily.

“No, sir,” Raen replied. “Alderaan is my home. I would do whatever I had to do to defend it.”

“I still don't trust the lad,” Altesius boomed. “We should evict him. No point in having a spy in our midst when we’re so pressed for time already.”

“I second Major Altesius’s opinion,” Jram spoke up. “As do my Jedi allies.”

“Khondine,” Colonel Mitos said, “would you mind removing him from the war room? For safety, please.”

“Wait. Let me prove my loyalty to you and your cause,” Raen replied fiercely.

“Nothing you can say or do can dispel our suspicions,” Telerus shot back.

“Oh?” Raen asked. Turning to the princess, he bowed as low as he could, startling her and the rest of the leaders. “Princess Eliorae Latona.”

“Yes, Master Jedi?” she asked, fear evident in her voice.

“I swear on my life and by my lightsaber that I will defend you against all who intend to harm you. I swear that I will fight for you until you have reclaimed your throne. Your cause is my cause. Your allies are my allies. Glory to Alderaan. If I betray this oath, may my life be forfeit.”

The room was silent. The Republic leadership and Khondine were taken aback by Raen’s oath. His Jedi companions were bemused by the entire ordeal because they had never seen Raen be so melodramatic. Eliorae, nervous because all attention was focused on her and Raen, rapped her fingers against the table behind her and didn’t seem to know what to do.

“Please stand, Master Jedi,” the princess whispered. “This is embarrassing.”

“Accept my word, and I will,” Raen replied curtly.

“Okay, I do,” she whispered eagerly.

“Aloud.”

The princess reddened. “Raen, I accept your oath. Please stand. Please.”

Raen returned to his feet at the princess’s bidding. He returned to his place by Gaiel and Khondine. His Nautolan companion shook his head approvingly, pleased at Raen’s show of dedication, but Khondine looked furious. No doubt she thought Raen was insulting some sort of ancient Alderaanian tradition.

Colonel Mitos cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him. “Very well, Raen. Let’s say there are no troopers guarding the base-”

“We’re just going to believe him?” Telerus asked, frustrated. “Just like that? Surely we are not all incapable of assuming he can deceive us!”

“His oath is no better or worse than the ones we swore when we started this movement,” Colonel Mitos pointed out. “Should I assume any of you lied when you took your oaths?” he asked, looking around at his associates and comrades.

“He was once a Sith…” Telerus growled.

“Yet here he stands, as a Jedi,” Colonel Mitos noted. “Surely there is not some sort of inner quarrel where the Jedi cannot agree who belongs in their order and who does not?”

Telerus glared at Raen, and then turned to Ranval and Gaiel. His gaze betrayed more ferocious emotions than he revealed, and Raen felt uncomfortable as he stared at him, trying to see through him – or into him. The Jedi Knight huffed angrily and returned his attention to the map before them.

“I agree with the colonel,” Major Altesius bellowed. “Let’s reoganize our plans, so we may begin the battle!”

“I think we can divide our soldiers into two groups. I will lead one unit, and it will attack the capital. Lord Petran Farseil will lead the attack on the garrison. The Jedi, on the other hand, will solely focus on attacking the Sith academy, and Master Jram will lead that group,” Mitos explained.

“What?” Altesius shouted. “Then what do I do, Colonel?”

“You will stay behind and watch the princess with a small contingent of soldiers,” the Duros replied.

“I don’t want to stay behind and babysit her,” Altesius grumbled.

“Major!” Khondine barked. “You are before the princess herself! Mind your tongue.”

“If the major wants to fight,” Eliorae said, her voice cracking, “he may. I can accompany him into battle.”

Colonel Mitos stifled a fit of laughter. Khondine shot him a vicious look, but he ignored it. “Princess, that suggestion is certainly noble, but unnecessary,” Mitos said kindly. “We can’t risk exposing you to any harm-”

“Lord Danc taught my brother and I how to use swords,” Eliorae interrupted him. She was shaking slightly, as though it took physical effort to put a firm edge in her voice. “I know how to fight.”

“Princess, please,” Mitos said. “I admire your fighting spirit, but the answer is no. We cannot risk losing you.”

“Colonel,” Khondine spoke up. “If I may-”

“You may not,” Colonel Mitos cut her off. “That’s the end of the discussion on the matter.”

Raen eyed the holographic projector again. “Is anyone going to investigate the Benax estate?” he asked.

“No,” Mitos said. “Raystin Benax was forced to close his plants so his company would not compete with Czerka Corporation, the Sith’s primary benefactor. The manor itself is of little strategic importance and we can’t risk wasting extra troops.”

“Send me,” Raen said.

“What?” the colonel asked.

“Let me go to Benax Manor,” Raen said. “One of the Sith Masters of Alderaan – De’dlay – has been known to frequent there. I’d like to investigate.”

“I don’t trust the boy to go alone,” Jasparan spoke up. Raen knew he would disapprove. He surely realized that Raen wanting to go to his home was suspicious, and likely thought it was some sort of plot against the Jedi. The old man shook his head and continued: “I’d opt for us to send three Jedi – from Coruscant – to accompany him.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Colonel Mitos said. “As long as you won’t be offset anywhere else because of it.”

“They won’t be,” Gaiel said. “If he wants some of his Jedi to go with Raen, then I’ll join their group. I’ll help them attack the Sith temple.”

“Me too,” Ranval said.

“That leaves you short one warrior,” Major Altesius noted.

“No, they aren’t. I’m coming too,” Khondine said.

“Khondine?” Colonel Mitos asked. “Why would you travel with them to the academy? I’d think you would remain with Major Altesius to defend the princess.”

Khondine shook her head. “I’m sorry. I have… reasons… to accompany the Jedi. I believe Major Altesius can fulfill his duties without my assistance.”

“Excellent,” Telerus cooed. “Now our force has returned to its original size.”

“I will select three Jedi to accompany Raen,” Jram said, his voice fluctuating and nervous.

“Very good,” Colonel Mitos said. “If there’s nothing else, then we can end this meeting. May the Force be with us all.”

Colonel Mitos switched off the holographic display, and the soldiers around him scattered on their way out of the war room. Altesius, still seething at the thought of defending Eliorae instead of joining in the battle against the Sith, stomped out of the room as loudly as he could, complaining under his breath. Mitos gathered a few of his supplies and was about to follow him outside when Khondine approached the old Duros soldier.

“What is it, Khondine?” Mitos asked, shuffling through a few datapads in his hand.

“I wish you wouldn’t deny the princess her chance to fight,” Khondine admitted. “She is an Alderaanian, and the soldiers could rally behind her if they realized their liege was fighting – and risking her life – like they were.”

Colonel Mitos scoffed. “Khondine, let royalty be royalty. She should be in her castle, sipping expensive wine, while the soldiers fight for Alderaan. She has no place on the battlefield.”

Khondine slammed her fist into the table at her side. “Her castle was destroyed, Colonel. Maybe you forgot, since you weren’t there. The Republic sent you after the fallout, hoping to secure their spoils.”

“You go too far, Khondine,” Mitos said. “The Senate deemed it necessary to step in. The Jedi, apparently, agreed. You can’t believe your ragtag civilians would have been enough to overthrow the Sith.”

“How much did Lord Farseil pay to acquire your services, Colonel?” Khondine snapped. She realized that he had been the one to secure the Republic’s support for the Alderaanian resistance. “Did the Senate promise him fame? Women? Or perhaps they offered him a position as senator; I wouldn’t be surprised. He was notorious for his sycophancy.”

“Khondine, the Republic doesn’t accept bribes. You know that.”

“They wouldn’t have helped us if someone hadn’t stepped in. Besides, Lord Farseil received a position of leadership as soon as Republic troops landed. What other nobles can say the same?” Khondine questioned.

“I think you’re just jealous, Khondine,” Mitos replied, surprisingly frank.

“Jealous? Pah!” Khondine spat. “I serve House Latona with my life, and I will see their throne restored, with or without the Republic’s help.”

“Khondine,” Mitos began, “be reasonable. Eliorae is young and weak-spirited. She is easily swayed by the words of others, and she would surely succumb to foolish counsel. She is not a suitable individual-”

“She’s all we have, Colonel!” Khondine interrupted. “You told your men to protect her; surely you must see that.”

“She is under my care as long as the Sith control Alderaan. That said, the Senate expects her to abdicate her title after this battle.”

“What?” Khondine asked, shocked.

“The Senate will officially support Lord Farseil’s candidacy for kingship. He will also be named viceroy and senator of Alderaan. House Latona will be rendered defunct, per the Senate’s wishes.”

“Why?”

“Surely it’s obvious. Eliorae is young and naïve, and she is not prepared to lead Alderaan. Lord Farseil has experience and wisdom that she lacks. He also has the most influence of all the noble houses on Alderaan,” Mitos explained.

“I won’t support you,” Khondine replied viciously.

“Then you will be alone. The Senate and the Jedi, by association, will both support House Farseil. If Eliorae and her retainers do not surrender their privileges…” Mitos paused for a moment, thinking over his words carefully. “Do convince the princess to agree to our demands.”

Khondine stormed off, furious at the Republic colonel. She hadn’t known that the Republic solders had arrived to look after Republic interests on Alderaan, but she should have expected it. House Latona had increased Alderaan’s standing and prestige in the Senate, but it had done so through measures and ideas that weakened the Republic’s control over their system. She should have known the Republic would not support Eliorae, a young girl without political or military experience, and her claim to the throne. The Sith were not her only enemies, it seemed. The Republic was also playing a dangerous game, hoping to secure their hold over Alderaan and rein it in after decades of self-reliance.

Khondine thought she understood the Republic’s plans, but there was one detail she overlooked. She had not questioned why the Republic continued to protect her if she was useless to them. For this, Colonel Mitos was grateful. In fact, her traveling with the Jedi only increased the effectiveness of his plans. Major Altesius and his soldiers were to watch Eliorae, seemingly to protect her from the Sith. After the battle, Colonel Mitos would inform the major to demand the princess to relinquish her title. If she did not, then Khondine would not be there to save her from Major Altesius. The major would listen to the colonel, no matter what he was told. Major Altesius, loyal as he was, would go on to ensure that Princess Eliorae was dealt with and Lord Farseil was the only living candidate for leader of Alderaan.

***                                                                                                                  ***

Raen left the war room, following Gaiel and the other Jedi outside while a few of the Republic soldiers lingered inside to clean up. Telerus cheerfully informed the three Jedi that there were some vacant tents available for them until the battle began, and Gaiel accepted their offer to lead them there. Raen didn’t trust Telerus because he was working with Jasparan, who seemed to be here for the sole purpose of inciting Raen’s anger. Nevertheless, Gaiel trusted them, so Raen said nothing, keeping his negative opinions on Jasparan and his companions to himself.

“E-excuse me,” Princess Eliorae peeped, placing her frail hand on Raen’s shoulder. “Could I speak with you, Master Jedi?”

Raen turned around, surprised that the princess had left Khondine’s side after the meeting. “What is it, Princess?”

“Do you… what is your name?”

“Raen. Weren’t you listening during the meeting?”

“I… oh. No, I’m so sorry. I meant your last name,” she said, flustered at the thought of her question.

“Benax,” he said. “Raen Benax.”

The princess clasped her hands together in front of her and reddened. “I-I figured as much. You have his face.”

“His face?”

“Your father,” she specified sheepishly. “Raystin.”

“You knew my father?” Raen asked, disbelieving.

“Y-yes. We met several times, most recently at all ball held at the castle nearly a year ago. He was kind to me… and my brother, when he was still…” she hesitated. “Still here. Your father was a dear friend of my family, and he was always so very polite and cheerful. I don’t think I’ve ever… ever seen someone so loved. Not even my own father.”

Raen had heard of his father’s reputation among the nobles of Alderaan, but he didn’t know the extent of his popularity. “Do you know if he’s still… alive?”

“I-I don’t. The Sith didn’t… they forcibly disbanded his company, but he was allowed to live at his home,” Eliorae paused for a moment. “He and his wife were the nicest people I’ve ever met, Raen. I hope… I hope that I can be like them, if… if I ever become… well, if the throne returns to me.”

“I’m sure they’d appreciate the thought, Princess,” Raen said, smiling. “You said my father was a friend of your family? Let me continue the tradition. Let me help you reclaim your throne.”

“I… thank you, Raen Benax. I hope your father is well.”

“Thank you,” Raen said, turning to leave. “May the Force be with you.”