Knights of the Old Republic: Hands of Evening/18-20

Chapter 18

The Jedi were seen off, not by a grand procession, but by a few particularly amicable villagers. The village had taken nearly three weeks to repair; it would have taken much longer, but Northeus agreed to use the Force to hasten the process. The village looked as it had – if not better than – before the attack. Despite their efforts, the Jedi had not been redeemed in the eyes of the townsfolk.

Castan Herox, who had remained on good terms with the Jedi, offered to lead them from the village to the praxeum. Although Northeus did not seem excited about the idea, he accepted it anyway. Syme wanted them to take their cruiser there, arguing that they had wasted enough time already, but Castan refused to take them unless they trekked through the forest with him.

They had been walking for hours. Raen couldn’t be sure of the time, but the sun peeked through the trees from high in the sky. Sweat crept underneath the back of his shirt and along his arms, making the journey all the more uncomfortable. The undergrowth was thick and covered in thistles, eliciting painful cries from every Jedi in the group sans Northeus. It didn’t take long for the entire procession to reek of body odor and damp cloth.

“Are we almost there, Castan?” Khondine called toward the front of the line. “I’m exhausted.”

“If you are already tired, you should consider resting before entering the praxeum grounds,” Castan advised. “The fatigue may prove too great for further travel.”

“Should we stop here?” Doreva asked.

“No. We must not stop in the forest. Calamity and confusion would claim us. You will find rest in the shadow of the praxeum.”

Despite protests from Syme and Raen, Castan pressed onward, forcing the Jedi to follow. The Ghoul tried to escape their group once, but Northeus and Doreva managed to restrain him and force him to return before he ran too far. Castan warned the Ghoul that any further attempts to escape would likely result in his death, but the Givin did not seem to care.

The mysterious Force-user marched the Jedi through endless kilometers of forested land, passing through trees that were easily older than the villages here. Their roots twisted together in thick coils, covering the moist earth beneath them. Branches loomed down like a hundred eerie hands, eager to snatch up one of them and bring them aloft. The wild grasses became more plentiful and grew higher the further they walked, until they were practically wading in it.

“Here we are,” Castan said.

Suddenly looming over them, as though it had materialized in an instance, was the duracrete wall of the praxeum. It was four times taller than Raen, easily able to keep out even the largest and craftiest of the planet’s native predators. They could just barely see the uppermost floors of the praxeum from behind the wall, but nothing more.

Northeus tried using the communication pad situated near the main gate, but his attempts were met with a hiss of static. He tried a few other combinations on the holographic keypad, but there was no response. Raen could sense his comrades’ despair in the Force. He pitied them; after all, if there were no Jedi here, then the Sith had already come, and they were truly were the last of the Jedi.

“Do not fear. You will find your answers within,” Castan said, turning to leave.

“You’re not coming with us?” Doreva asked.

“I’m afraid I cannot. These answers are not mine to receive, but yours. I must return to the village to ensure their final successes, and then I go to the stars again.”

“We could use your help, Castan,” Northeus called out.

“No, Master Jedi. You need not my help. Act boldly and do not doubt yourself. You will triumph your darkness and be at peace.”

Although Doreva tried to persuade him against leaving, Castan had no plans on listening to him. He had disappeared into the trees without another word. As he disappeared, the dark side – which had been held at bay for some time – overwhelmed them. Its presence seemed to stem from the praxeum itself, draining their resolve and leaving them feeling cold and weak.

The others hesitated, but Northeus proved resolute. He had finally reached the praxeum; he was not about to let their journey end here. Without hesitation, the Jedi Master activated both his lightsabers and cut a gaping hole into the entryway.

“Come. Let us find our answers.”

***                                                                                                                  ***

Even Northeus could not deny that the praxeum stank of death.

The courtyard was reminiscent of other Jedi enclaves. The walls of the three buildings surrounded it entirely, and several low-hanging trees dotted the outdoor sanctum, providing life to the otherwise lifeless area. There were no bodies, but there did not have to be. Each Force-sensitive could sense the Jedi that had once lingered here, speaking with companions and learning from mentors, only to have suddenly perished.

At Northeus’s urging, the Jedi quickly made their way through the courtyard, making their way into the second building. The small tower had multiple purposes to the Jedi praxeum, serving as an infirmary, storage center, and administrative facility. Before entering, Northeus told Syme to take Doreva and the Ghoul to the first building – the library and training centers – and search for survivors.

Raen followed Northeus and Khondine inside the second building. He heard Khondine gag on the bitter smell of dry blood and rotten flesh that filled the infirmary. His stomach churned violently as he tried to keep himself from retching, activating his lightsaber to serve as a light source. The two Jedi followed suit, lighting up the medical ward with their colorful blades.

Wandering around damaged medical equipment and misplaced machinery, Northeus led Raen and Khondine further inside. Reaching out and touching the Force, Raen could not detect any other life form in this building. He was not sure if Northeus knew that, but the Jedi Master seemed to be heading toward something so he followed silently.

“Raen. Khondine. What do you think of this?”

Northeus held his lightsaber over a body atop a stretcher. An older woman was lying there, staring at the ceiling with lifeless eyes. Her hair was cut short; it had long since lost its color and faded into a shade of gray. Kindly wrinkles formed along her cheeks and near her lips, where she had a peaceful smile. Several IVs and cables attached her to life monitoring equipment.

“She’s dead, Master,” Raen said.

“Who was she?” Khondine asked.

“Vici Ramunee, Jedi Master and co-head of this praxeum,” Northeus explained. “She and her brother were appointed the leaders of this place after the former head, Master Tannis, died nearly a decade ago.”

Raen looked at the various medical monitors. “She’s dead. What happened to her?”

“Lightsaber wound, it seems.” Northeus closed her eyes with one hand and pointed toward the scar running down her torso with the other. “Whoever defeated her managed to take her out with one attack. She never stood a chance.”

“But Northeus, why is she hooked up to these life support devices?” Khondine asked. “If she’s dead, then this isn’t necessary…”

“Maybe she didn’t die immediately?” Raen reasoned.

“No, a cut that deep would have damaged one of her lungs, not to mention several other vital organs,” Northeus replied. “She would have had seconds to live.”

Raen was examining the body when he noticed a datapad on the floor, where it would have fallen from the deceased Jedi Master’s hand. Picking it up, he activated it and skimmed its contents. Serving as a personal journal of sorts, it seemed to chronicle events over the past year. The last entry was dated over six weeks ago; unlike the others, it was composed of a simple map of the praxeum and the outlying area.

“Northeus, look at this.”

The Jedi Master perused the contents of the datapad as Khondine glanced over his shoulder. Projecting the map onto a nearby table, he let the three of them see it easily, scanning it for any oddities or areas of interest.

“There’s a place called the Cave of Truth located about a kilometer west of here,” Khondine noted. “It seems to be the farthest point on the map still considered part of the praxeum.”

“Do you think there could be survivors there?” Raen wondered.

“At the very least, we should investigate,” Northeus agreed. “Khondine, contact the others and tell them to meet you at the cave.”

“What about you?” Khondine asked, already activating her comlink.

“I’m going to search this place for clues, then I’ll join you at the cave.”

Raen wasted no time leaving the academy behind. The lack of lighting coupled with the mysterious emptiness did not sit well with him. Khondine joined him and the two met up with Syme, Doreva, and the Ghoul, who had already completed their investigation of the academy’s first building. As expected, there was no outstanding evidence to report, so the Force-sensitives made their way to the Cave of Truth.

Unlike finding the praxeum itself, locating the cave was very easy. Using the datapad’s map as a guide, Khondine led the five of them through the sea of grass that separated the praxeum’s high walls from the mountain range in the west. As they approached their destination, the number of trees dwindled rapidly, leaving the group to travel under the bright sun without shade.

By the time they reached the Cave of Truth, the healthy grass had also dispersed, leaving dry earth and yellow foliage behind. A single mountain towered over them, its orange-red rocks glistening in the now-setting sun. The rock face before them – which became too steep to climb any higher than four meters – was supposed to be the location of the Cave of Truth, but there was no entrance to be seen. Piles of rocks surrounded the base of the mountain; rockslides appeared plentiful here.

“Now what?” Syme asked. “There’s no cave here.”

“Don’t tell me we went all this way for nothing,” Raen muttered.

“The map’s not wrong, is it?” Khondine glanced at the datapad again. “It says the Cave of Truth is right here…”

Doreva examined the mountain before them. “Perhaps the entrance itself is hidden?”

“Then how would we be able to access it?” Raen asked.

“If it is a Jedi cave, or even a Jedi sanctuary to hide from whatever happened at the praxeum, perhaps the Force?” Khondine mused.

“We could start by getting rid of some of those rocks,” Syme agreed.

Calling on the Force, the Jedi lifted the rocks – some small enough to be thrown physically, others large enough to crush hoverspeeders – with telekinesis and repositioned them. The Ghoul remained behind them, watching them work in silence.

To their surprise, the entrance to the cave was hidden behind a massive stone a meter off the ground. However, as soon as they revealed the secret cave, the ground started to shake beneath their feet. Raen shot a confused glance at Khondine and Syme, but they didn’t know what was going on either.

From inside the cave, a slithering dragon revealed itself to the Force-sensitives. Lifting itself into the air on thin wings, it hissed and screeched at them, obviously intending to attack. Syme activated his lightsaber first, throwing the cyan blade at the newest arrival. The dragon snaked through the air, dodging the attack with grace in spite of its massive size.

The dragon’s mouth glowed bright orange with a tinge of purple color, and then it launched a narrow beam of energy at the Ghoul. The Jedi leapt out of the way and dodged the attack entirely, activating their lightsabers as soon as they descended. However, the dragon seemed to realize that the Ghoul had no way of dodging his attack and fired at him.

Stepping in between the Ghoul, Doreva positioned his green blade to defend them both. The Ghoul jumped out of the way as the superheated gases collided with Doreva’s lightsaber. To his – and the other Jedi’s – surprise, his lightsaber failed to defend him from the attack, engulfing the Bothan’s whole body. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left of Doreva except ashes and a melted lightsaber hilt.

The Ghoul had been immobilized, not quite sure what was going on. Syme was furious, shouting at the flying dragon as he hurled rocks alongside his lightsaber. Khondine’s violet blade joined his, and Raen raced over to the Ghoul to drag him away from the fight. The Jedi’s lightsabers and rock projectiles did not hit the dragon at all, but they did prevent him from attacking them with his powerful breath attack again.

Safely away from the fighting, Raen took a moment to compose himself – or attempt to. What had just happened? Doreva’s lightsaber should have blocked that attack; there was no way such a small stream of energy should have bypassed his defenses. Where they not paying attention? He had never seen anything like this before.

“Darkness! Servants of darkness!” the dragon bellowed, surprising everyone with his sentience.

“You can speak?” Khondine said, snatching her thrown lightsaber.

“That thing can’t be… intelligent?” Syme muttered, throwing his own blade again.

The dragon dove at the two Jedi without warning. Using his massive skull, he battered away Syme before he could grab his thrown lightsaber. The Jedi Knight flew toward Raen, tumbling over himself several times as though he had been struck by a shuttle. The dragon’s many hands snatched Khondine, keeping her from using her lightsaber and lifting her high into the air. Once his altitude was high enough, the dragon dropped Khondine, sending her plummeting to the ground.

Syme stood up with a bit of help from Raen. Once he was sure he could stand on his own, he pushed Raen away and slowed Khondine’s fall with the Force. The Arkanian had been attempting to slow herself down, but her efforts proved ineffective until Syme’s power had been coupled with hers. Rolling, she softened her fall and landed near the cave.

“Master Lywin! Stop! What are you doing?”

Northeus raced forward, reaching the other Jedi with a burst of Force-empowered speed. One of his lightsabers was active, but he couldn’t use his other without dropping a conical holocron he was carrying. The other Jedi looked at him like he was insane, but Northeus ignored them. Stepping out of the cover Raen and the Ghoul were staying in, he waved to the dragon.

“Master Lywin? Do you remember me?”

“Nrghh… Master Ulsan? Are you… with this group of darkness?” the dragon asked.

“Yes, these Jedi are under my care,” the Jedi Master said.

“J-Jedi? But they can’t be… one of them is dead! Nrghh!”

“Yes.” Northeus glanced at Doreva’s remains and clenched his fists. “You killed a Jedi Knight. A brave and noble warrior, who was dedicated to the light.”

“No! No! No! Nrghh! How? I was sure that these were dark-siders…”

The dragon’s wings seemed to have failed him, and he fell toward the ground. Northeus used the Force to slow his descent like Khondine had slowed hers, keeping the dragon’s body from crashing into the ground. To the relief of the other Jedi, the dragon seemed to have faded into unconsciousness.

“Master Ulsan, who was that?” Syme asked.

“This is Jedi Master Willm Lywin, founder of this praxeum and defender of the Cave of Truth,” Northeus explained. “Our Duinuogwuin friend will awaken in due time. When he wakes, he may be a bit crazed. We should head into the cave for now.”

The Jedi and the Ghoul followed Northeus inside the cave without a word. They were all still rather confused by this, and none of them knew what to say first. The Ghoul, in particular, seemed confounded by recent events, and he walked with them as though he was in a trance. Once they had reached what looked like a meditation room, Northeus motioned for them to sit down.

“I know you all have questions,” Northeus said. “So let’s get them out of the way now.”

“What is going on here?” Khondine asked, flatly. “What… is this?”

“Jedi Master Lywin founded the Teyan Praxeum over six hundred years ago. Since that time, he has guarded the Cave of Truth, which functions as a test for upcoming Padawans seeking knighthood,” Northeus explained. “Jedi Masters since then have been appointed in his stead, leading the praxeum proper. In this case, the Ramunee siblings served as headmasters.”

“Why did he attack us?” Raen asked angrily. “Why did he kill Doreva?”

“I do not know. I have a feeling his sorrow – his confusion – is tied in with the tragedy at the village and the destruction of the praxeum itself. He may have confused you for assailants. It’s understandable, especially if he is agitated or the dark side is clouding his vision.”

“That doesn’t excuse him,” Syme said.

“I know.” Master Lywin entered the cave, slithering inside.

Syme reached for his lightsaber, but Northeus shook his head. The Jedi Knight stepped back from the Duinuogwuin as he settled down in a rather large seat located near the rear exit to the chamber, watching his head for the rocky ceiling.

“I do not expect you to excuse my actions,” Master Lywin continued. “They are unforgivable. But I have done what I could for your friend – that he may rest in peace – and will answer any questions you have.”

“Your madness is gone,” Raen noted. “That was certainly quick.”

“Great failures are often very sobering,” the ancient Jedi Master replied.

“Tell us, then, if you are a Jedi,” Syme said, “why did you mistake us for attackers? Dark-siders?”

The dragon rested his wings. “Let me explain from the beginning. We lost contact with the Coruscant Temple nearly four months ago. We sent representatives to the Conclave at Katarr, but none returned to tell us the outcome. So we remained here, waiting for news to come to us from the Core. When none came, I decided to venture to Coruscant myself and learn what I could.”

“But there was no one there,” Khondine surmised.

“Correct. When I returned here, the praxeum was in disarray. Someone had attacked while I was away, and they killed Vici…” the Jedi Master paused for a moment. Shaking his head, he continued: “Her brother, Master Veni Ramunee, tried to keep her alive, but she was beyond our help.”

“We saw her body in the praxeum. She was still on life support,” Syme said.

“That is not surprising. The attackers had launched another raid on the praxeum, with the intention of purging it entirely. Master Ramunee fled with a small group of Jedi, but his companions never reached the Cave of Truth. He… he came here, dying, begging me to do something to save the praxeum. But it was already too late.”

“I’m sorry, Master Lywin,” Northeus said. “We don’t want you to recount all this too soon.”

“No, I must. I must. He… he died a few days later. I buried him and his companions within this cave and returned to the praxeum – for the first time in many decades,” Lywin said. “Seeing my life’s work, the apex of my architectural achievement and the pride of my learning… destroyed caused me to slip into the dark side, and madness.”

“Who attacked the praxeum?” Raen asked.

“According to Veni, they were men wearing white robes with black sashes. They carried lightsabers like the Jedi and the Sith, but they were stronger than all of my students. Something… unnatural empowered them to fight to the death.”

Khondine crossed her arms. “Did they kill any of them? Can we see them?”

“As far as I know, none of them perished against my Jedi. If they had, their bodies were promptly removed from the scene. I did not know what they looked like, so I attacked you because I sensed the dark side in some of you, thinking you were the assailants. I am greatly sorry.”

“And you have been contacted by no other Jedi?” Northeus asked.

“None.”

Northeus clasped his hands near his knees. Their greatest fear was realized. The Jedi Order had fallen. Looking around the room, Raen could see the last of the Jedi. Syme, broken since the death of his friend for a prophecy he did not believe in. Khondine, purposeless since her liege and the Jedi had divided her loyalties. Master Lywin, a murderer whose entire academy collapsed before his eyes, and Northeus, a Councilor with no one to counsel.

He and the Ghoul stood amongst this remnant of the once vaunted Jedi Order like men before giants. The Ghoul had lived while Doreva had died. Even he, a sociopathic killer, seemed shaken by this revelation. And Raen was neither Jedi nor Sith. The darkness remained in him, but he tried his hardest to reject its power.

Had the Sith won?

“I have no words of wisdom to offer you. For six hundred years I have trained Jedi, yet I have experienced no disaster such as this,” Master Lywin said. “But if you wish to stay with me for the night, I will tend to your wounds – that perhaps I have caused – and ensure you are cared for.”

“We might as well,” Northeus’s eyes were on the floor, and his voice was weak. “Our journey is over.”

“Very well. I will attend to your rooms; for now, remain outside of the cave.”

***                                                                                                                  ***

Raen had watched the sun descend, fading away behind the line of trees. Leaving behind waves of amber, rose, and scarlet, the sunset’s array of colors gave way to the shimmering stars of an otherwise black night sky. The wind picked up around him as he waited atop a broken log, expecting to hear from Northeus or Master Lywin soon enough.

“Raen? Are you okay?”

Raen turned around and saw Khondine in the dim light. She was carrying two wood bowls filled with steaming food, and she was hopelessly trying to keep any from spilling on the ground. Motioning for Raen to help her, he rose from his seat and took one of the bowls.

“Thank you,” she said with a sigh, placing one of the bowls near the log Raen had sat on. “You can go ahead and keep it; it’s yours, anyway.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Khondine.”

“Don't mention it.”

Raen glanced into the bowl. It was a slight green color, and there seemed to be chunks of something he couldn’t recognize floating around in it. Without utensils, he figured he had to drink it.

“What… is it?” he asked.

“Something Master Lywin cooked. I didn’t ask. I just took it and left.”

“Not up for talking with him?”

“I think he’s trying to poison us,” Khondine said, half-serious. “I trust him no farther than I can throw him.”

Raen sipped some of the broth. It was edible, but just a little bitter. “It’s not too bad. True Jedi food.”

“So, it’s pretty bad,” Khondine asked, laughing.

“No! That’s not what I meant.”

Khondine shook her head. “What are you up to out here, Raen?”

“Watching the sky. Meditating. Making sure the Ghoul doesn’t wander off.”

“I see. Is it interesting?”

“I don’t know what else I’d be doing.”

“No, I suppose not.” Khondine drank some of the stew. “But-”

“Jedi! Jedi!”

Khondine and Raen turned toward the forest, where a voice was calling out to them. Raen slowly placed his bowl on the ground in front of him. Before he could stand up, Khondine signaled for him to wait. Activating her violet lightsaber, she walked toward the forest, careful to avoid making too much noise. Despite Khondine’s warning, Raen followed her, seeing Yohan pull himself out of the underbrush as soon as she did.

“Yohan! What are you doing here?” Raen asked.

The villager’s legs were cut deeply, exposing bits of bone and lines of muscle beneath layers of burnt flesh. He was crawling, and one of his hulking arms had been cut off, causing blood to pour out and form a trail out of his path. His skin was pale and he was barely conscious. Khondine removed a medpac from her belt while Raen ripped off his sleeves to try and stop the bleeding.

“It’s no use, Jedi. They already got me. They’re coming for you,” he wheezed.

“Don’t try and talk,” Khondine ordered. “You’ll just weak-”

“Wait,” Raen interrupted. “Who’s coming, Yohan?”

“Those murderers… I followed them, but they said… they said they wanted… Jedi. I tried to warn you, but they knew – sensed I was watching.”

Raen glanced at Khondine, who quickly finished applying the medpac and reactivated her lightsaber. “Thank you, Yohan. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for nothin’. I’m going to see… her. I couldn’t take them out, but there are only… three of them. Stole this from one of the dead.” Using his only remaining hand, he reached into his vest pocket and handed Raen a lightsaber. “Give… ‘em hell…”

As soon as Yohan died, three figures in white robes leapt out from behind the trees. A Twi’lek, a Human, and a Zabrak, the three of them appeared to be Jedi, but their robes were featureless and they didn’t have cloaks. With yellow lightsabers blazing in the darkness, Raen could see their faces – they lacked malice, but they were ready for battle.

“Jedi who have surrendered to darkness,” the Twi’lek said. “We, who have achieved peace, will end you!”

Khondine twirled her lightsaber. “Try it.”

“No, Khondine,” Raen said. “Go warn the others. I’ll hold them here.”

“What?” Khondine stared at him. “You can’t stop all three of them by yourself, Raen. Don’t be foolish!”

“We’re outnumbered anyway. Just go! I’ll be fine.”

Khondine spat. She muttered something about Raen’s machismo as she left his side. Once she was on her way to the Cave of Truth, Raen returned his attention to the pseudo-Jedi in front of him. Activating the lightsaber he received from Yohan, he revealed its shimmering yellow blade.

“I see you stole one of our companion’s weapons,” the Zabrak growled.

“You took the lives of many innocent people here,” Raen replied. “It’s only fair.”

“Innocence? Who is innocent? The people we killed are carriers of the darkness. Their presence in the galaxy causes more and more to fall, spreading through the galaxy like a plague,” the Human said. “It will not know peace until the last of the darkness has been purged.”

Raen shook his head. “You killed a seven year old girl. Whatever your plans are, that is too far.”

“Only one so clearly evil would oppose us. Come, dark-sider. Do your worst,” the Twi’lek scoffed.

Holding his lightsaber in one hand, Raen lifted his free hand and let it embrace the full power of the Force. His fingers wrapped themselves in tiny sheaths of flame, spreading across his whole hand and climbing up his arm. In seconds, his entire arm was a blazing inferno, spewing flame and releasing smoke. His opponents seemed to realize that if they delayed, they would be attacked by this destructive flame, so they rushed at him at once. Outstretching his hand, fire spewed from his limb, unleashing a fiery wave at his incoming foes.

The fire formed a burning wall between himself and his enemies. He could feel the heat where he stood, watching the fire reach toward him as though it wanted to return to its source. The wall kept his enemies at bay for a few moments, and he considered attacking again, but he was tiring quickly. Dissipating the flames on his arm, he smiled ruefully at the burnt flesh and charred hair left behind. He had never been burned by his own fire before.

As expected, the fire only slowed down the three pseudo-Jedi. Using the Force to create a telekinetic blast, the wind that followed managed to disrupt the flame enough for them to reach him. The Zabrak leapt toward him and performed an overhead blow, intending to hit him with a single, powerful strike. Raen stepped out of the way entirely, letting him fall to the ground and lose momentum. Spinning, Raen blocked the Twi’lek’s short combo and then struck back with a thrust of his own.

Withdrawing one of his vibroswords to use in his offhand, Raen struck at the Twi’lek with his lightsaber and then blocked an incoming attack from the Human combatant with his vibroweapon. A quick spin forced his two opponents to backpedal, giving Raen enough time to leap backward and avoid an incoming attack from the Zabrak.

However, his agility was only so effective. Dodging the Zabrak’s attack, Raen had trapped himself between his Twi’lek and the Human opponents. Throwing his lightsaber at the Twi’lek, Raen used the time he took to dodge and grabbed his other vibrosword. Rushing at the Human, Raen struck in quick, one-two combinations that aimed low, then high. The Human blocked each attack with ease, alternating his defenses with the least motion possible.

Raen kicked at the Human to throw him off-balance, but he missed entirely. The Human used the Force to push Raen off his feet, sending him spiraling into the log that he had been sitting on earlier. The Zabrak bellowed as he performed a Force-enhanced leap to reach Raen, and the attack would have easily beheaded Raen if not for his allies’ arrival. Syme arrived first, throwing the lightsaber Raen had tossed earlier and striking the Zabrak in the chest, splitting his body in half. The other Jedi arrived quickly enough, forcing the two surviving pseudo-Jedi to turn their attention from Raen.

Syme and the others had only just arrived when a Foray -class blockade runner revealed itself overhead. Flying in from over the forests to the south, the ship blocked out the night sky as it hovered less than two hundred meters above the ground. Its engines drowned out practically any other sound, and its six turbolasers rained bolts of red fire around them.

“What is that? Why is a Republic vessel in system?” Syme shouted, still fighting off the Human before him.

“The Sacrosanct ! It’s here!” the Twi’lek called to his companion. “It’s time to go.”

The Human used a Force push on Syme, sending him back toward Northeus and Khondine. “Master Eston will not be happy that these corrupted were not dealt with!”

“It does not matter. We have already purged the praxeum! Come!”

Their two surviving opponents levitated off the ground, propelling themselves upward with the Force and leaving the crowd of Jedi behind. They were clearly headed toward the now-open hangar bay of the Sacrosanct, but the other Jedi were shocked that they could actually reach it. Khondine was helping Raen to his feet when Master Lywin took flight, heading toward the ship.

“Master Lywin! Where are you going?” Northeus called to him over the engines’s growl.

“To do what must be done, Master Ulsan!” he replied. “Forgive me. Your path diverges from mine! Forgive my foolishness!”

The Duinuogwuin Jedi Master soared toward the defenseless underbelly of the Sacrosanct  as it waited for its two passengers to float into its hangar. Turbolaser fire went off nearby, firing from the port and starboard sides of the ship, but he was safe. Red and purple light burst forth from inside his mouth, but he dared not open it. Soon, that same glow shimmered from his scales and the tips of his wings. Seconds before the two floating Force-users reached their destination, Master Willm Lywin exploded.

It was like a nuclear missile had gone off above their heads. Raen heard his eardrums pop loudly as a shockwave deafened him, disorienting him and sending him to the ground. Khondine managed to stand for a few more seconds until she, too, tumbled off her feet. Flaming metal debris rained down around them, crashing into the side of the mountain and the forest floor as they pleased. Rocks tumbled down from the mountain’s face, trees caught on fire, and Raen could feel the earth shake beneath him.

Turning to face the sky, Raen saw the Sacrosanct, practically torn in two by Master Lywin’s final attack. The ship’s interior was exposed, revealing several decks, and the ship was slowly falling apart on itself. Struggling to maintain altitude, the blockade runner found itself in a losing battle with gravity, crashing into the forests just beyond the praxeum in the distance.

Raen awoke with a start. Realizing that he must have faded into unconsciousness, he pulled himself off the ground. The other Jedi were already on their feet, and the white-robed Twi’lek he had been fighting was positioned against a nearby tree.

“What’s… what’s going on?” Raen asked, rubbing his side. “Why is he here?”

“He survived Master Lywin’s attack,” Syme explained. “He never reached the ship. Fell to the ground, I guess.”

“He got lucky, too. The ship’s core self-destructed after it crashed, killing most of the survivors. There are fires everywhere; I don’t know what we’re going to do,” Khondine said.

“But why is he here?” Raen asked again.

“I am here,” the Twi’lek suddenly spoke up, “because your Master Ulsan requests it. He wants me to lead him to the true Jedi. He wants me to lead him to Watchcircle Dominus.”

Chapter 19

Eliorae Latona scrambled out of the Senate Building, making her through the crowd of local reporters and subpsace radio interviewers that lingered on its grand staircase. Eager for a story – especially from an upstart politician – to feed their audience, the media swarmed around the senator with floating cam-droids and comlink transceivers. Waving them aside, the senator did her best to dodge the crowd, to little avail.

“Senator Latona! A word for our viewers, if you would!”

“Is it true that you are requesting over three million credits to turn the Jedi Temple into a protected historical site?”

“What do you think of Senator Nyvenek of Kuat?”

“Rumors have said that you intend to support the Colonial-Isolationist faction. Can you confirm these claims?”

Having to deal with reporters every time she left work irritated the already tired senator. With a brisk ‘no comment’ or ‘sorry, not today’, she tried to bypass the crowd. It was no good, of course, because they assumed she was merely playing hard to get with her information. There were so many of them that she couldn’t make her way toward her hovercraft in the distance.

While she struggled, one of the reporters behind her cried out in pain, screaming something about a broken toe. Turning around, Eliorae saw Senator Calon D’et of Corellia making his way toward her, shoving through the crowd with both arms swinging and feet stomping. The senator’s flowing head of hair was beginning to recede with age, giving way to a broad forehead. With an aquiline nose and a dark moustache, he resembled the nobility of old Corellia, whom Eliorae was familiar with due to paintings from her homeworld.

“Senator D’et?” Eliorae asked.

“A pleasure, Senator,” he said crisply, extending an arm to her. “Come. You seem to be having trouble. Let me assist you.”

“Thank you, Senator D’et.”

The middle-aged Corellian seemed to part the crowd by his mere presence. Whether it was because he was heavier built than most of them or because the others saw the Bothan reporter nursing his damaged toe, they stepped out of his way. He occasionally cast a glance at Eliorae to ensure that she was still accounted for, despite the fact she clung to his arm as though her life depended on it. To her relief, his mud-stained boots cleared the stairs, leaving the last of the potential interviewers behind them.

“Where is your hovercar, Senator Latona? I don’t mean to waste your time, but I would like to speak with you in private,” the Corellian said. “It is important, I assure you.”

“That one.” She pointed toward a yellow-brown car at the edge of the district. “That’s mine.”

“Very good. I shall accompany you, then.”

The Corellian allowed her to separate herself from his arm, and he bid her to lead the way. Eliorae glanced back at the Senate chambers for a moment, wondering how the other senators dealt with the crowd of media enthusiasts, before heading toward her hovercraft. Senator D’et followed in silence, occasionally looking back at the Senate Building himself.

Eliorae’s Lomin driver was lingering around the trunk of the hovercraft, absent-mindedly talking on his comlink. He was not aware of their approach, and the hovercar itself had been shut down.

“Hey, you!” the Corellian shouted at her chauffeur. “Are you paid to be idle? Don’t you see your employer coming? Start the car!”

Eliorae’s face reddened. She had never considered yelling at one of her assistants. Despite her own reservations at Senator D’et’s actions, she let him continue to berate the Lomin and goad him into action.

The driver had been so distracted he hadn’t heard the senator’s initial request, but the shouting eventually proved successful. Jumping to his feet, the Lomin apologized to Senator Latona for his slothfulness and used his keycard to unlock the doors.

Then it happened.

It was all so sudden. The two senators had not been ten meters from the hovercraft, quickly approaching, when the Lomin driver opened the rear doors. As he swung the door upward, the car exploded without warning. A tremendous fireball raced toward the air, throwing shattered duracrete and burning slag around the two senators. The force of the blast sent Eliorae flying into Senator D’et’s arms, and her Lomin associate was vaporized immediately.

The explosion damaged several other parked hovercars around the Senate Plaza, sending terrified civilians and politicians alike into a screaming panic. From there, everything seemed to blur in Eliorae’s mind. Senate Guardsmen on their regular patrols rushed to the scene, surrounding the two politicians from any further harm. Reporters, seeing the flames and chaos from the Senate Building, flocked to the area like scavengers to carrion.

Eliorae felt one of the guardsman place an energy shield generator on her belt. She suddenly felt very hot, and her throat became parched. Something had come over her in all this chaos, and she felt very weak. She struggled to remain vigilant, but she just exhausted herself. The senator fainted in Senator D’et’s arms as Coruscant Security Forces encompassed the perimeter to barricade civilian access.

***                                                                                                                  ***

Ranval had been sorting pieces of flimsy when a division of Coruscant Security walked through the front door of Senator Latona’s apartment. Dressed in official brown-and-white uniforms, they were practically droidlike in their mannerisms. Each of them carried a blaster pistol and vibroblade on their belt in addition to a combat shield, giving them the ability to protect themselves and deter criminals from attacking.

His first instincts told him to reach for the nearest weapon and duck behind cover, but he resisted that reaction. Something about his criminal days made him nervous around law enforcement, even when he was doing nothing wrong. Steeling himself, he remained seated.

Following their procession, the senator of Corellia walked inside with Senator Latona in his arms. Holding her for a moment, one of the officers motioned for him to put her down on a sofa in the main room. While the Corellian made sure that she was comfortable, the officers began tearing apart the room for potential bugs and dangers.

Ranval rushed over to Senator Latona, pushing by a few officers. “What’s going on? Is she all right?”

“She’s just fainted,” the Corellian replied. “There was an assassination attempt near the Senate Building.”

“On her?” Ranval gritted his teeth. “When? How did it happen?”

“Settle down, sir,” an officer said. “We have everything under control.”

Ranval resisted the urge to punch him. “Who are you?”

“Captain Talnor Myre, Coruscant Security,” the officer replied curtly. “I think the better question would be, who are you, sir?”

“Ranval Messor. I’m her aide.”

“Well, Mr. Messor, you have nothing to worry about,” Captain Myre said. “We have our finest detectives and senatorial agents working tirelessly to figure out who was trying to kill Senator Latona.”

“I’m sure,” Ranval scoffed. “And why are you here, Senator…?”

“D’et. Calon D’et of Corellia. I actually wanted to speak with Senator Latona in private, but these events have made things difficult. As a witness and potential victim, I’ve been forced to follow Coruscant Security.”

“Witness protection,” Captain Myre noted.

“In all its glory,” Ranval quipped. Turning his attention back to D’et, he replied: “Whatever you wanted to speak to Senator Latona about can be passed on to me, I think.”

“I suppose so. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not be disturbed.”

“Of course. Come into the dining room. We can talk in private.”

Senator D’et followed Ranval from the living room, by now filled with senators and police barriers. He said nothing, but Ranval could sense that he and Captain Myre were both suspicious of him. Whether it was because he was considered a suspect or his species’ natural Force-sensitivity made him disconcerting, he knew not.

“You understand that what you tell me will remain confidential, correct?” Ranval asked as they walked into the kitchen.

“Of course, Mr. Messor. I am just concerned your views may not express the opinions of Senator Latona,” he replied.

“Don’t worry about that. I don’t make any decisions without consulting her first,” Ranval said. “We agree before we decide on anything.”

“Very well.” The senator sat down at the dining suite at Ranval’s behest. “I’ll be frank with you. I heard about Senator Latona’s invitation to the Heritage faction.”

“Did you?” Ranval asked, peering through the window.

“Yes. And we know their primary goal is to acquire Alderaan Royal Shipwrights for their own, do we not?”

“It was suspected.”

“Do not suspect. Know.” The senator crossed his arms sagely. “That was all they could ever want out of a partnership with Alderaan.”

“What you say may be true-”

“Did you know that the Senate never intended for her to become queen?”

“I did not,” Ranval said. “When did this happen?”

“During the civil strife there a few years ago. Sith, death of the royals… the whole problem. The Senate determined that the Latona monarchy was too independent for their liking, and they feared Eliorae would force it further away from Senatorial dependence. They opted instead for another noble to take the throne, this one with the Senate’s credits comfortably in his pockets.”

“Whose plan was this?” Ranval asked.

“It’s hard to say. It was suggested by a committee, and that committee had several Heritage factionalists on board. When the plan fell apart, they took a lot of fire in the Senate. After all…” he paused. “They had a lot of credits invested in shading dealings with the Sith and their organizations.”

“The Sith?” Ranval stared him down. “That’s a bold claim. How do you know that?”

“Corellia’s intelligence network has many connections,” Senator D’et responded. “Besides, I… was once a member of the Heritage faction.”

“I take it you left shortly after that. Too much political backlash for you, Senator?” Ranval asked, sitting down across from him.

The Corellian shook his head. “It had nothing to do with my reputation, but what they are doing to the Republic. They don’t care about the wellbeing of this government. Each of them is more worried about their positions and reelection than working together. What’s more, many of them are just in it for the credits. They’ve funneled credits into Czerka Corporation!”

“Czerka is an infamous Sith supporter,” Ranval muttered.

“I got out of there as fast as I could. It was not without its penalties, of course, but they cannot defeat me. Not yet. You see, whether due to your acumen or her natural talent, Senator Latona is quite the orator. Respectable, in my opinion. I am determined to make up for any mistakes I made. I want to help her.”

“Interesting. So you want to warn her not to make the deal.”

“Yes. And now, to ensure the Heritage assassins do not kill her.”

Ranval frowned. “You think the Heritage faction is actively trying to kill her?”

“It is well within their power. Believe me, Mr. Messor. I’ve… seen them do this type of thing before.”

Ranval rested his head on top of his hands. Although he had his suspicions about the Heritage faction, this was still hard to believe. If it was true that they were trying to kill her, she would not be safe as long as they could send assassins after her. Not even Coruscant Security officers would prove entirely effectively. However, neither he nor Senator D’et had any proof.

He sighed. There was no way to protect Senator Latona legally. Ranval needed to know who was after Senator Latona, but the officers and detectives were bound by the law. Fearing for the senator’s safety, Ranval knew he would have to work around the police and their investigation.

“If you’re telling the truth,” Ranval said. “I have a request of you.”

“Ask it.”

“Could you stay here and watch over Senator Latona with Coruscant Security?”

Senator D’et nodded. “With my life.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going elsewhere?” the senator asked.

“Indeed. I need to see if your accusations are true.” Ranval stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”

***                                                                                                                  ***

E. Bunker’s Cantina was a filthy place. Nestled in the heart of Coruscant’s lower districts, the establishment was the antithesis of the fancy clubs and ritzy establishments located at the city’s uppermost levels. The rank smell of alcohol mixed with the bitter aroma of spice, wafting around the room like the cigarra smoke.

Three separate bars – for various species – were situated in the farthest corner of the building. Unlike most cantinas, tables were strangely absent, replaced by barstools and benches that were positioned around the walls. This kept the amount of gambling and ruckus to a minimum, but it also kept some patrons out entirely.

But then, that was never a problem. E. Bunker’s Cantina was infamous for its underworld connections. Unlike many nightlife establishments, which publicly eschewed criminal dealings while overlooking them for business’s sake, E. Bunker’s was quite candid about the criminals that patronized there.

In this place, frequented by ugly lowlifes and freakish vagrants, Rajes was a strange sight indeed. From a different pedigree entirely, he did not even need his military dress or his formal attire to stand out. Even his disgustingly plain shirt and slacks drew attention to him. Although no one said anything to him directly, the barmaids – dressed appropriately for a Hutt’s palace – seemed to know he was up to something, so he sent them away.

Luckily, interest in him had faded almost as quickly as it had come, so he was left to his own devices. Removing a subspace transceiver from his pocket, Rajes slipped it behind his ear and adjusted the frequency until he heard the standard hum of Republic transponders. In a matter of minutes, he had been transferred to ex-Colonel Ducian Eto’s personal comm unit.

“Mallory, Regen,” the voice on the other side said.

“Altesius, Foel,” Rajes replied. Their personal code was a quick recitation of the four officers in Eto’s regiment at Sluis Van. “How are you, Colonel?”

Eto sighed. “You’re the only one who calls me that, Thonnel. Don’t you think you should let relics lie?”

Rajes smiled. Ducian Eto had lost his title after going AWOL nearly seven years ago. Despite insistence to the contrary, Rajes could not break the habit of calling him by his rank. After all, Eto had been his first commanding officer, and he didn’t know what else to call him.

Besides, it was not as though he gladly forsook his position. Senator Oro Malthesinores had offered – repeatedly – to promote Eto to the rank of brigadier general. His deals were damning. Eto had told Rajes that every officer who worked with the senator ended up involved in some dark conspiracy, rife with underhanded dealings and evil plots. Of course, he could not prove these claims, nor would he specify what these plans were.

That was Rajes’s job. Colonel Eto kept him in the dark, but he promised Rajes that everything would come together soon. For now, Rajes had to continue trusting the colonel with his life. Eto was enigmatic and brash, but soon Rajes would learn what he needed to. He would not be here, in this hideous club, if that was not true.

“You’ll forgive me. Old habits die hard, sir.”

“Fine,” Eto replied groggily. “What have you learned of our friend, Oro?”

“I just met with one of my contacts. I received a whole datapad of information on him, but I haven’t had time to read it all,” he said. “I also have a meeting with him later today.”

Eto was silent for a moment. “Did you extract any useful information from the datapad yet?”

“None yet. Just a few political allies, some old investments, and information on Rendili’s last senator.”

“I see. How did you convince him to meet with you?”

“I told him I was a disgruntled officer looking for a bit more pay,” Rajes explained with a chuckle. “He bought it well enough.”

“So you do have a plan?” Eto asked. “He won’t just confess his crimes to you to get you on his side.”

“I’ll think of something, sir.”

“How are your parents?”

Rajes smiled ruefully. “My father is fine. Old bird is still alive-”

“I meant, are they safe?”

“Of course. But why?”

“Oro Malthesinores is ruthless. Don’t underestimate him,” Eto warned.

“Yes, sir.”

“The moment you find out anything that can arrest him, you contact me,” Eto said. “I have a Hammerhead out here waiting to storm Coruscant.”

Rajes laughed. “I know, I know. Don’t worry, Colonel. You’ll get your chance. For now, leave everything to me.”

“Good luck, Thonnel. Be safe.”

“You too, Colonel. Thonnel out.”

***                                                                                                                  ***

Ranval’s speeder soared through Coruscant traffic. At midday, traveling anywhere on Coruscant – except on foot – was nearly impossible. However, the slew of drivers slowly diminished as the day dragged on; now, as the sun was descending on Coruscant’s skyline, traffic was at an all time low. Ranval was in a hurry, so the lack of cars was perfect.

A tattered cowl and black mask that covered the lower half of his face worked together to shield his entire head from view. His hooked cybernetic hand tapped against the passenger seat while his right steered the vehicle. Wrapping himself in dark rags that dangled loosely from his limbs, he left just enough space to see the Jedi robes underneath.

Knowing that he was wearing the attire of a Jedi again burned at him. The very idea was agonizing. After all that had happened, after he left the Order, he could hardly bear to see the green robes again. He endured by telling himself that he was using the robes to inspire fear, not promote any of the Jedi’s vaunted ideals.

He had sensed no deception from Corellia’s senator, so it was time to figure out why the Heritage faction was trying to kill Senator Latona. As with most political factions, hundred of member worlds and their senators were involved in its day-to-day workings, but very few had the authority to make decisions. It was these few who Ranval had to meet with. They were the ones who were guilty.

Ranval smiled. He was fueled entirely by rage and instinct. Just like his days in the Hidden Beks gang on Taris, when someone he knew got hurt, he would do his best to get revenge. There was plan behind this madness, of course, but it was not as methodical or thought-out as Ranval would have liked. This tranquil fury was terrifying, even to him. He remembered his life before the Jedi, when he would be violent for hours in his anger.

But then, the Jedi had changed everything about him. Suppressing his doubt, Ranval broke away from the traffic and traveled toward a series of conjoined buildings in the distance. Rising high, these shimmering towers housed nearly eight thousand sentients each, providing luxurious housing to rich locals. Pulling up a holographic display from a datapad on the dashboard, Ranval scanned the layout of the building.

Sidling up to the eastern building, Ranval placed himself just below one of the tower’s wall-spanning windows. Ranval set his speeder to hover and slid out of the passenger’s door. At this altitude, the wind whipped against him, tousling his clothes and chilling the few bits of his bare skin.

The Miraluka pulled himself on to the top of his speeder so he could just barely see inside the window. As he thought, this was Senator Ubens’s home. And just like the layout suggested, this was his son’s room.

In the middle of the room, the boy was playing with his model army figurines. His nanny, a dark-haired Devaronian female, watched him from her seat near the door. Toys were scattered around the room and a whole sketchpad’s worth of flimsy littered his bed by the window. The entire scene was something that Ranval had never experienced, and he watched for a bit longer than he would have liked.

There was no room for hesitation. Ranval shook his head. If he doubted himself now, he would never act. It was time to show them just how wrong they were. It was time to show them how terrifying he was.

His two hooked digits smashed into the glass before him. Reinforcing his prosthetic’s strength with the Force, Ranval made sure the entire window shattered at once. The glass rang out as its remains fell. Most of it fell on to the boy’s bed, covering his artwork, but the rest implanted itself in Ranval’s metal hand, fell to his boots, and scattered across the pane.

Using the Force, Ranval whipped up the shards and shielded himself in a glistening vortex. The rags he wore fluttered around him as he descended. His dark clothes caused Ranval’s figure to blend in with the murky Coruscant twilight behind him. The nanny screeched as though she had seen death come into the room. The little boy turned to see Ranval floating over him, and his misty green eyes screamed because he could not.

“Specter! Demon! Stop!” the nanny cried.

Ranval let the glass shield fall around him, careful to avoid piercing the boy. The young child was immobilized by his fear, unable to move away from Ranval. Reaching out with his hooked hands, Ranval snatched the boy and carried him away as the senator’s guards scrambled into the boy’s room. Dropping a datapad behind him, Ranval leapt from the window just before the guards opened fire – not realizing that they could have hurt the boy.

Tumbling through the open top of his speeder with his captive in hand, Ranval could see the red blaster shots overhead. Their chance to stop him had come and gone. Placing the boy into the back seat, the Miraluka closed the hatch on top of his hovercar and sped away.

Occasionally looking back at the tower, Ranval was relieved that they had not pursued him. No doubt Coruscant Security would be looking for him, so he would have to lose the rented speeder. It would not take long for Senator Ubens to get his message; he would meet with Ranval before the police could capture him.

Rejoining traffic, Ranval’s thoughts were interrupted when the boy he kidnapped suddenly started crying. He knew that it was inevitable, but he had hoped that he would have time to think of an explanation. There was no easy way to console a terrified child, and Ranval did not know how to comfort crying people.

“What is it?” Ranval asked, nonchalant. “Why are you crying?”

The boy sniffled. “Are you… are you going to hurt me?”

Ranval was silent. He felt his chest burn, and he probably would have started crying if he had tear ducts. On flimsy, capturing the senator’s son sounded easy enough, if monstrous. Actually doing it, and dealing with a traumatized child, was incredibly painful. Ranval had been a kid once – though nowhere near as privileged – and he remembered the haunting nights in Taris’s underworld.

He knew how scared the senator’s son was, and he sympathized with him. He wanted to console him. He wanted to cheer him up. But he couldn’t do anything. He had to carry this through now. He needed to do this.

“No. But you must listen and cooperate with me. Can you do that?”

“Cooperate…?”

“You have to follow instructions,” Ranval explained.

“Oh…” the boy wiped his eyes with his hand. “Where are you taking me?”

“Not far.”

“Will I see mommy and daddy again?”

“Yes.” Ranval choked. “But first, I need to talk with your father.”

“Who are you?”

“… I am the Arbiter. By my armored hand, which protects the weak, I promise not to hurt you.”

“Why do you have a robot hand? Are you… a supervillain?”

Ranval smiled. “I was playing with weapons, and I hurt myself. But I assure you, I am no villain. Don’t play with sharp objects or blasters if you don’t know what you’re doing. People may think you’re a bad guy.”

The little boy said nothing, shaking his head in eager agreement.

***                                                                                                                  ***

“Senator Malthesinores will see you now, Captain Thonnel.”

Rajes perked up. Standing from his chair in the lobby, he brushed off the military uniform he wore for the occasion. The senator’s receptionist, an amicable Duros, unlocked the door via controls on her desk. Heading inside, Rajes smiled. After nearly two hours of waiting in a dreary and not-at-all exciting lobby, he was meeting with Senator Oro Malthesinores.

The senator’s office was the opposite of his reception area. The angles where the walls and ceilings met were surrounded by potted plants, held up on wooden shelves. The heads of beasts Rajes had never seen were mounted across the room as hunting trophies; their taxidermies were so well done he swore holographic eyes were following him. The senator’s desk was filled with models of Republic starfighters from the past century and seemed to have more memorabilia than work on it.

The senator, preoccupied by his work, noticed Rajes’s arrival and jumped to his feet to meet him. Walking by his desk – and adjusting the direction of a Star Saber XC-01 replica – in several large steps, he eagerly shook hands with his guest. Bidding him to sit down nearby, Senator Malthesinores returned to his own seat. Rajes noticed the senator move a datapad he was reading to the side as Rajes settled in.

“Are you busy today, Senator?” Rajes asked. “Don’t let me take up your time if you are.”

“Not at all. I am always eager to hear from Captain Rajes Thonnel,” Senator Malthesinores replied with a smile.

“If you insist, sir.”

“I do. Now, then, what would you like to discuss?”

Rajes glanced at him suspiciously. The senator knew why he was here. “Well, sir, I was thinking about your offer earlier.”

“Indeed? And have you decided?”

“I’d like to hear your offer in its entirety, sir,” Rajes explained.

“Very well.” Senator Malthesinores sat back in his seat, relaxing. “I believe you are a capable soldier and have skills that you have yet had a chance to demonstrate. I am willing to let you. I think you are well-suited for the rank of colonel.”

Rajes widened. “Colonel, sir?”

“Indeed. You’ve been doing deskwork and frontline duties for long enough. It’s time to move forward, Captain.”

“Thank you, sir.” Rajes did his best to seem grateful. “But how would you promote me? You are no longer in the Republic Army…”

“Nonsense. I am no longer an active general, but I have enough connections in the military to ensure that you get the attention you deserve. My former subordinates and colleagues would be glad to help someone like you. My word is almost like law among them,” he said with a hearty laugh.

Rajes smiled with him. This was perfect. If he could press the issue with Senator Malthesinores, he would have the proof he needed. He and Eto could capture him and get this mess over with. Adjusting the collar of his uniform, Rajes appeared uncertain.

“Is that legal, sir?”

“If you are thinking this is nepotism or tied in with the spoils system, I assure you it is not,” the senator said. “I refuse to associate myself with such petty lawlessness. I run a respectable military.”

''Petty lawlessness, perhaps. What about extreme crimes?'' Rajes thought.

“What do you think?” Senator Malthesinores asked.

“What would I have to do, sir?”

“You’ve already done everything you need to do, in my eyes,” the senator assured him. “However, I would like you to prove your loyalty to the military.”

“Sir?”

“You remember Colonel Eto, don’t you, Captain?”

Rajes’s eyes widened. He nodded quickly.

“Ducian Eto is a rogue agent. He has abandoned his oaths to the Galactic Republic and its army. He has a small force under his command – rebels who have sided with him in his desertion. It is not a major threat, but it is able to attack, perhaps, a lightly defended colony world. He is dangerous, a threat to peace.” Senator Malthesinores stared at Rajes. “Before you are promoted to colonel, I want you to find and capture him.”

Rajes froze. He did his best to look composed, as he always was, but he knew that he failed. The request was so unexpected that Rajes did not have a reply. His mind was a blank. Was Senator Malthesinores on to him? Did he know that Eto was trying to take him down? Was this a random request? Rajes’s mind raced with variables, and he didn’t know how to respond.

Rajes cleared his throat, giving him a few seconds more to think. “I would not know where to find Colonel Eto,” he finally said.

“Is that so?” Senator Malthesinores asked musingly. “Do not worry. I have agents that know exactly where he is.”

Rajes did his best to conceal his surprise. He did better this time, but he knew he had still jumped at the revelation. He knew where Colonel Eto was hiding. He and his allies were all in danger. Knowing that the senator could kill them at any time, Rajes almost reached for his blaster pistol. But he knew this charade had to last. For now. “When should I begin?” he asked.

“Immediately.”

Rajes gulped down the lump in his throat. “With my company?”

“No,” the senator replied. “Not alone. I will provide with you with a battalion of soldiers to use alongside your company.”

“Sir, I must admit, this is a very surprising thing to ask.”

“Perhaps, but it is also a very pressing issue.”

“Would you mind giving me a few days to consider it?”

The senator nodded solemnly. “You may take a few days. But I expect an answer as soon as you make up your mind. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Rajes stood up from his seat and escorted himself out. The entire time, he felt Senator Oro Malthesinores watching him, boring into the back of his head like the senator was reading his mind. He hoped that he had not given away anything in his shock, but he could only assume the worst.

The only hope Eto and the others had was that the senator would not attack them until Captain Thonnel agreed to the mission. That meant Rajes had to delay Senator Malthesinores for as long as he could, even if it meant angering him. In the meantime, he had to figure out how to defeat him without Eto’s help. Rajes was their last hope.

***                                                                                                                  ***

Ranval stood on top of the abandoned Renel Tower, watching the midnight sky. His clothes were whipped about in the night wind, but he was surprisingly warm. He felt his breath condense against the inside of his mask, dampening his nose and the area around his mouth. There were fewer stars out than he was used to; Coruscant’s skies were empty, much to his ire.

Behind him, the rented car he had used in his kidnapping waited patiently. It was off, although the safety locks that prevented children from opening it from the inside remained active. His precautions to keep his captive from fleeing proved unnecessary, because the senator’s son was fast asleep. He heard the hum of a distant engine. ''Good. Let’s finish this.''

A luxury speeder floated over the tower’s rooftop. The white car had a bit of gold decal on its sides, and Ranval could vaguely make out the symbol of the Galactic Republic on the hood of the speeder. Large enough to fit at least twelve passengers comfortably, it was certainly respectable enough to be a senator’s vehicle. To Ranval’s relief, it was alone.

Senator Gesih Ubens exited the back of the car, followed by a small contingent of personal guards. He wore a combat suit underneath his jacket, but his guards were also equipped with blaster rifles and energy shields. They were not heavily armored, but their presence would prove dangerous if they remained.

There was no artificial lighting on this tower, forcing the others to see by the light of the few stars and the distant skyscrapers. However, Ranval’s Force sight enabled him to see them as though the sun was out. Senator Ubens’s face was pallor and his eyes were blood red, far cry from the last time Ranval had seen him. It was discouraging to see a strong man so weak, but Ranval steeled himself and stepped forward.

“Didn’t you read the datapad I gave you, Senator?” he hissed.

“I brought you your credits!” Senator Ubens motioned toward a small crate one of his guards was carrying. “There are your thirty thousand credits!”

“I also told you to come alone,” Ranval snapped. “So are you stupid or something? Do you want your son to die?”

“No! Please. Don’t kill my son,” Senator Ubens shouted. “I’ll send them back. Please. Just let me see him.”

“Not yet. Get rid of your guards.”

Ranval watched Senator Ubens’s guards file back into the speeder. The crate of credits was left outside in case the senator needed to bargain with the captor. Once they were inside, he expected the speeder to leave; unfortunately, it remained on the roof in waiting. Shaking his head, Ranval waved the senator forward.

“Let my son go, please.” Senator Ubens practically tripped over himself. “Please tell me where he is.”

“I won’t hurt your child if you cooperate. I am an agent of justice-”

“Justice?” the senator spat. He was almost close enough to see Ranval in the darkness. “You kidnap my son – my innocent, helpless son – and you claim to be just? You’re insane!”

“What’s the difference between the life of your son and the senator of Alderaan, Gesih?” Ranval shot back. “Is one of them more valuable? Do you think you get to choose? What’s the difference between you sending an assassin after Eliorae Latona and me killing your son?”

“You basta-”

“What do you know about the assassination attempt, Gesih?” Ranval growled.

“Nothing!”

“I think you’re lying. Would you wager your son’s life on that answer?”

Senator Ubens’s quaking knees gave way, and he fell at Ranval’s feet. “No. Please… just leave him out of this. He’s done nothing at all to you. He’s innocent.”

“Senator Latona was no different. She did nothing to you.”

“I…” Gesih paused. He composed himself and explained: “The Heritage faction’s leadership ordered the hit.”

“So you were responsible.”

“No! Senator Nyvenek, Senator Sonin… they were the masterminds. I told them we did not have to be so extreme. We could always force her out of office by rigging elections or tarnishing her reputation. They didn’t listen to me.”

“Do you expect me to believe that?” Ranval laughed. “You’re just protecting yourself. Don’t you care for your son?”

“Please! Stop torturing me! I swear to you, I disagreed with them, but-”

“But you didn’t say anything.”

“No. And Eliorae isn’t the only one. They sent out several assassins across Coruscant. I would tell you who they are after, but I don’t know. I swear I don’t.”

Ranval nodded. “You didn’t say anything beforehand. Senators, judges, civilians… there are countless victims dead because of you.”

“I know. And the blood is on my hands for my inaction. For my weakness. But I swear to you on my life and the life of my son that I did not condone the hits.” The senator shivered. “My son… can I see him? Please don’t hurt him. May I see him?”

“Are Nina and Mer still on Coruscant?”

“Yes.”

“Are they going to keep killing?” Ranval asked.

“I don’t know. I’d tell you if I did.”

“I see. Very well.” A small trigger on Ranval’s right hand released an EMP burst to release the locks on his car. “Your son is in the speeder. He’s sleeping, but he is unharmed.”

Senator Ubens jumped to his feet and raced toward the open speeder. “Thank you! Thank you!”

“Don’t let your weakness endanger those you love,” Ranval replied.

Ranval watched the senator scoop his son out of the back seat of his speeder. Gesih started to cry as he looked at his son, peaceful and safe, and made his way back to his personal craft. Smiling, Ranval walked back to his speeder when a blaster bolt flew by his head.

“Fire!” Gesih said. “Kill the criminal!”

The Force gave Ranval an advanced warning, and he ducked just in time to avoid another blaster shot. All of Gesih’s guards had left the speeder while Ranval was distracted by the senator; at Gesih’s signal, they opened fire. A projectile from a grenade launcher obliterated his transport, turning it into a metal inferno before him. Dodging the crimson blaster fire to the best of his ability, he leapt over the edge of the building.

The guards watching him assumed he had jumped to his death and stopped firing. However, the Gesih and his guards could not see the hovercar waiting for Ranval just over the edge. Tumbling into the backseat, Ranval struggled to remain in the craft as the Togruta driver raced away from the scene.

“Selias! Slow down!” Ranval cried.

“Ah, boss, aren’t you enjoying the irony?” Selias asked with a wry grin. “I know I am. I’m just seeing how fast this poor baby can go. After all, you used to drive us around Taris with the same reckless abandon.”

“Are you just now getting back at me for that?” Ranval threw off his hood. “I said I was sorry for my careless driving! Many times!”

“Well, so you did. But now you can see why we complained about it. Hold on, boss! We’ll be home in a second.”

Chapter 20

Jhosua appreciated it when they ferried him around for free. Before Selias and her mercenaries left for the Core, they gave Kerre the Quartermaster -class supply carrier Galnoc to use. Selias’s contact on Coruscant – she refused to divulge his identity – had access to several junk dealers and military shipyards. After the war against Exar Kun, most Quartermasters had been retired from active service; however, they were still reliable ships. Bulky ships with no weapons for defense, it was the perfect civilian transport, especially for short missions.

Because of his frequent hitchhiking, Jhosua had never learned how to pilot a ship. He had seen plenty while he worked under his father at his shipyard back home, but he had never needed to fly one himself. Staring at the massive dashboard in front of him, lined with buttons and controls of all sorts, he had no idea where anything was. Kerre made it seem simple enough, but Jhosua still could not tell where the steering mechanism was, nor did he know how to adjust the craft’s speed. To his shame, he was still absolutely useless in the cockpit.

“So, Jhosua,” Kerre spoke from the pilot’s seat. “How many pieces of that armor do you have left?”

“This is the last one,” he replied. “This should be our last stop.”

“Very well.” Kerre seemed to return his attention to guiding the ship over this unnamed world, but he turned back to Jhosua. “I have been wondering about something.”

“What is it?”

“Well, you are trying to get of that armor. However, as I understand it, this equipment protects you against Jedi powers,” Kerre said. “If that is the case, this seems like a boon to you in combat rather than a hindrance.”

“It would seem that way,” Jhosua agreed.

“But you are still willing to part with it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Jhosua smiled grimly. “It’s evil. Of course, that sounds crazy. But I’ve heard the armor speak to me. Whispering. It’s hard to explain, but it reaches into your mind and sometimes I think there’s more than one consciousness in my head.”

“That sounds like Jedi magic.”

“It does. And even when it’s not in my head, there’s something unnatural about it. It’s addictive. It’s eerie. It seems to attract trouble.”

“But surely it protects you from that trouble,” Kerre reasoned.

“It does. Verita would have killed me when we first met if I didn’t have my armor,” Jhosua said with a chuckle.

“See? The Lagartoz Dragon may bite you, but it is sturdy and dependable in a pinch,” Kerre pointed out.

“Except the bite’s poisonous, and it’s rather fond of flying you through enemy laser fire,” Jhosua countered. “It has a mind of its own, doesn’t it?”

“A small price to pay for the upper hand in battle.”

“Even if you’re dead and unable to use it?”

Kerre was silent for a moment. Letting the ship drift over the grassy knolls and sparkling lakes below, he had a moment to ponder Jhosua’s words. As a warrior, it was no doubt difficult for Kerre to consider a weapon capable of self-harm. Mandalorians, in particular, eschewed many conventional military ideas. Even the deadliest weapon had its advantages.

“You said it is eerie. Evil, perhaps. Do you think its Jedi powers were given to it by the Darths?” Kerre wondered aloud. “The Sakiyan seemed to have no trouble using it.”

“The effects weren’t immediate when I wore it. It’s possible Darth Odren may not have worn it long enough to induce its powers,” Jhosua replied. “Or he may have been immune. I don’t know. I can’t say for sure where the armor comes from.”

“Well, we ought to be rid of its manipulation. The hangar doors are now open. You should be able to discard the last piece into that ocean up ahead. Once you’re dead, we’ll land on the beach on the next continent.”

Jhosua stood up and took the bag he had placed at his feet. Inside that leather bag was the last piece of his dark armor – the lower segment of the beautiful breastplate. Each step he took seemed to make the bag heavier and heavier until he was struggling to move at all. As he suspected, the armor was not ready to be discarded. ''Tough luck. '' It was time.

Jhosua navigated through the starboard section of the ship and found himself in the hangar. As Kerre had promised, the bay doors were already open. The saline air whirled about the empty room, and the waves tried to throw their whitewashed spray inside the low-flying ship. Maybe, if it was lucky, it would manage to pull the ship into a watery grave.

Walking inside, Jhosua headed to the edge of the room and grabbed hold of a durasteel bar hanging parallel to the ceiling. Standing mere centimeters from the exit to the ship, he could see the water lapping at the rocks below and fish swim near the surface of the sunlit water. With all his might, Jhosua dangled the armor over the edge of the water.

The armor whispered back to him. It urged him not to be rash. To consider the benefits of their mutual parternship. Didn’t Jhosua need protection from Force-sensitives? Didn’t Jhosua need the heightened reflexes his armor provided? He needed the security of the armor to keep him sane, didn’t he?

“No.” Jhosua’s resolve doubled. “I don’t need you anymore.”

Jhosua released his hold on the leather bag, letting it fall into the sea. The bag opened as it fell, releasing the fragment of the armor from its hold. Jhosua watched as the dark metal plunged into the sea, sinking beneath the foaming waves and rejoining the abyss. The ship kept moving from that place, and Jhosua could just barely see the leather bag flutter toward the surface of the water behind them.

He was about to turn away from the water and return to the cockpit when the ocean beneath him began to churn up. The peaceful waves and light spray became a twisted vortex, throwing water and bits of surface-dwelling coral into the air. Even as the Galnoc continued to move, it seemed as though the water’s newfound ferocity followed them, staying beneath them at all times.

Then, without warning, a spectral image emerged from its watery dwelling. Rising up with an otherworldly howl, it was followed by a horde of diminutive spirits. The ghastly humanoid wore Jhosua’s armor underneath a tattered cloak, but any features that would have identified him had long since vanished. Reaching the hangar doors, the dark haze around him weakened Jhosua, sending him to his knees.

''You think you can kill me, boy? I have lived for three thousand years! I shall not die again! '' The ghost’s telepathy enveloped Jhosua’s mind. If I cannot live on through the armor created for me, I shall take your body!

The whole ship quaked as the specter drifted through the walls. The blood froze inside Jhosua’s body, causing his feet and senses to fail him. The spirit collapsed on itself, absorbing surrounding ghosts as it turned into a blue orb the size of Jhosua’s hand. With a victorious cry, the ancient ghost plunged into Jhosua’s chest.

''Get out! Get out! '' Jhosua thought he screamed.

Your corpse is mine!

The Galnoc trembled as it passed over the ocean and flew over the shores. The spirit tossed Jhosua’s body around like a doll, even while his body spasmed on its own to expel the invader. However, the spirit’s presence seemed to fade the further they got from the ocean, and Jhosua could feel his own strength return.

Just before the spirit seemed to disappear entirely, a wave of dark side energy washed over the ship. His vision became clouded, but he could still feel the ship plummet downward. He heard the specter haunting him cry out in the distance, and then Jhosua’s head hit something in the darkness.

***                                                                                                                 ***

Jhosua blinked a few times. Warm sunlight was pouring in through the hangar, shining directly on his face. Warning klaxons were blaring elsewhere in the ship, and he could still hear waves in the distance. Kerre must have lost control of the ship when the dark side spirit fled, sending the craft crashing into the area just beyond the shore.

Jhosua was surprised he wasn’t injured from the fall, especially since the hangar doors had been wide open. Standing, Jhosua realized that he wasn’t quite unharmed. The muscles in his legs burned as if he had just finished a harrowing military exercise. What he thought was sweat on his face was actually blood; wiping it away, he realized that a gash ran just above his ear toward his forehead.

At least the spirit insistent on stealing Jhosua’s body was gone. Jhosua had not done anything to repel the supernatural invader, and Verita, the only Force-sensitive on their vessel, was unconscious and recovering from her own injuries. Whether the spirit was bluffing and lost most of its power already or it was confined to a certain area around the armor, Jhosua didn’t care. He was safe from its power now. He was free.

Pulling himself out of the hangar, Jhosua saw Kerre and Verita near the front of their crashed vessel. Verita was still resting on a mat set out for her by Kerre, brushing the grass around her with her fingers. The former Mandalorian had gathered a few crates and footlockers filled with rations and supplies, forming a protective circle out of the containers. Making sure his weapons were still on his person, Jhosua joined his companions.

“Damn, Jhosua. What happened? Are you all right?” Kerre asked.

“I think so. What the hell happened?”

“I asked you. After you left, I kept directing the ship toward the beach when there was a random explosion near the back of the ship. I couldn't get any sensor readings, but the explosion seemed to have disabled the main engines. I guided us down as best as I could, but it wasn’t a pretty landing.”

“Is Verita okay?”

“Yes, but she is still not fully conscious. I injected her with a few painkillers, just in case.”

“Thank you,” Jhosua said. “The damage to the ship may not be permanent; we ought to try and take off later.”

“We’ll see. The ship took quite a bit of damage in the fall.” Kerre dug through one of the crates, taking his eyes from Jhosua. “Did you get rid of the armor?”

“I did. That may be what caused the explosion.”

Kerre frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense-”

“Which one of you touched the unclean spirit?”

Kerre and Jhosua spun around to face a Selkath in plain white robes. Standing just outside of the circle of crates, his fishlike eyes stared at the two of them, examining them for some unseen quality. The lobes that hung on each side of his mouth moved ever so slightly in the breeze, and his webbed hands reached for something on his belt.

“Who are you?” Jhosua asked.

“I am Qual, messenger and servant of the holy light,” he croaked slowly. “One of you has touched a terrible darkness. “It is my responsibility to purge your defiled existence.”

“Jhosua,” Kerre whispered, “this could be the Jedi Paelopia’s husband was searching for.”

“Maybe.” Jhosua reached for his vibroblade. “Be careful.”

The Selkath seemed to realize that they were preparing to fight. Without another word, he removed the lightsaber from his belt. Twirling its golden blade around him in a defensive flourish, he blocked a few of Kerre’s initial blaster shots. Jhosua rolled forward and grabbed a blaster pistol from the ground, joining Kerre in the firefight. The two of them worked together in the attack; Jhosua fired at the Jedi’s legs while Kerre aimed for the chest.

Qual’s lightsaber became a golden vortex around him. Despite the distance between Jhosua and Kerre’s targets, none of their shots could score a hit. All of their blaster fire was sent in various directions, throwing some orange fire into the ship’s hull, some into the grass, and others into the sky.

Jumping over their blaster fire, Qual reached into the Force and threw Kerre backward. Hitting his back against the ship behind them, the armored combatant’s kinetic shielding flickered and died before he hit the ground. Jhosua redirected his line of fire and sprayed another dozen bolts at the Selkath warrior, but it proved just as useless as before. Throwing his lightsaber at Jhosua, Qual forced him to dodge before placing him in a stasis field.

Jhosua tried his best to recover, but he recognized the futility of it all when he couldn’t even grab the blaster pistol that was lying just centimeters away from him. His body failed to respond as he struggled against the Force power of the Selkath Jedi. All he could do was breathe and blink furiously. How ironic, Jhosua thought as Qual approached. I lose the armor, and I’m beset by a Force-user whose trying to kill me.

“Pray to Ashla for forgiveness,” Qual stated. “May she have mercy on your dark soul, because I will not.”

Catching his gold lightsaber as it spiraled back to him, Qual’s lightsaber fell toward Jhosua’s neck. Cursing his awful luck, Jhosua didn’t dare look. He heard the lightsaber’s hum get dangerously close, but the actual blade never struck. A telekinetic orb hit Qual, disrupting his concentration. It was this brief moment that broke the stasis field around Jhosua, allowing him to tumble away from Qual’s lightsaber.

The Selkath growled as his prey recovered. Verita had launched her attack in the Force to save Jhosua while she was lying down; jumping to her feet, she ignited her bronze lightsaber to face the white-robed Jedi. Qual had not noticed her before now, and he kept one eye on Jhosua while he turned to face this new threat.

“You dare stand against me?” Qual asked.

“To save him, yes,” Verita replied.

“Your strength is that of a lowly Jedi Knight! I was Jedi Councilor Qual. You think you can resist me?” the Selkath growled. “My mastery of the Force has far surpassed anything you could hope to achieve.”

“Then come and defeat me.” Verita shook her head. “Or my friends will help me defeat you.”

***                                                                                                                  ***

The bridge of the Hound’s Sapphire was silent. Sitting in her chair and observing the rest of the deck, Ralina relished the feeling of having her own ship back. It was a bittersweet accomplishment. She was glad to have her own ship back, of course, but everything seemed different. The monitors seemed less lively. Jon’s voice was absent. The bridge felt smaller and not homely at all.

There was hardly a reason to celebrate. Fetcher and Jon were both still on Caillte with Mercium the Hutt and his slaves. Posh and Manda were both as reserved as their captain, making the entire trip hushed and tense. The few times Manda gave sensor readings, she did so as quickly and unenthusiastically as she could. Posh said nothing at all; he didn’t even quip.

Was this really her ship?

The one thing Ralina hated more than not getting paid for her missions was when her employers tried to replace her crew. Mercium the Hutt was scum because not only had he failed to compensate her, he succeeded in sticking his lieutenant, Rashinodies, into her crew. Now, he acted like the liaison for some emperor and demanded respect he hadn’t earned. Loafing about the bridge, Rashinodies enjoyed the fact that the rest of them loathed his presence.

Posh guided the Hound’s Sapphire over the green landscape. Ralina knew that finding a single Jedi on an empty world like this would be like trying to pinpoint one criminal on Nar Shaddaa. They had been at this for hours, and they had no luck finding anything. Its sensors had been designed to spot enemy ships, not life forms. After nearly a dozen false alarms, they had given up on a quick resolution to this mission.

Manda perked up in her seat. “Captain, I think we’ve got something.”

“More false alarms?” Rashiondies sneered. “I think you’re wasting time. You realize that the longer you delay, the quicker Fetarollias-”

“Wait.” Ralina examined the tactical display on her seat’s armrest. “I think she’s right. I think we found our Jedi.”

Manda gave Posh some coordinates, sending the Hound’s Sapphire toward an otherwise unexciting shoreline on the largest continent of Anobis. As the ship got closer to the ocean, they could vaguely make out the shape of a crashed ship amidst the grasslands around them. As they blazed closer and closer, Manda called out that she picked up a small group of sentients on their sensors. Blaster fire was visible on their viewport, and Ralina could see the blazing images of lightsabers near the ship.

“There,” Ralina said. “Set us down, Posh. That’s our Jedi.”

“Are you sure, Captain?”

“This place isn’t settled. That Jedi has got to be the one,” she replied. “Let’s go.”

Posh reluctantly guided the Hound’s Sapphire  to rest about sixty meters away from the Jedi. Ralina and her crew armed themselves as quickly as they could, forsaking their combat suits and any heavy weaponry for blaster rifles and basic energy shields. Once Rashinodies was assured they were ready, he led them from the ship to the Jedi in the distance.

Rashinodies proved quicker than Ralina and her allies expected, reaching the Jedi at least fifteen seconds before them. As they approached, it became apparent that there was a fight going on already. To Ralina’s surprise, there was not one Jedi here, but two. A Selkath Jedi in colorless robes was dueling a red-haired woman, and it was apparent – even to Ralina – that the Selkath was winning.

The two duelists fought in the midst of shattered storage boxes and their contents, thrown about as though they had been projectiles earlier in the fight. The Selkath seemed to be fighting his way toward the ship, where an armored warrior was recovering at the side of another fighter. However, the red-haired woman proved more resilient than her foe expected, and she blocked his path even as his golden weapon smashed into her bronze blade.

Ralina glanced at the armored figure and his ally again. Something looked familiar about the red-haired man waiting against the ship. She had never seen the armored warrior before, but she was sure he recognized the other. Looking back at the Selkath and his opponent, his identity came rushing back to her. He had seen him on Dantooine, during the Sith attack, nearly five years ago.

“Jhosua? Jhosua, is that you?”

None of the others had noticed Ralina’s company before now. Realizing they were being watched, the Selkath turned to face the new arrivals. Rashinodies armed the underslung launcher on his blaster rifle, just in case. Verita leapt over Qual and landed between him and Ralina’s crew.

“Get back!” Verita said. “He’s too dangerous for you!”

While the Selkath renewed his attack on Verita’s tiring defenses, Jhosua signaled to Ralina and indicated that he had heard her. While Kerre struggled to stand up on his own, Jhosua took his blaster pistol and carefully navigated around the fight between Verita and Qual. Ralina met him halfway, watching the duel with blaster rifle in hand.

“Ralina?” Jhosua was shocked at his own words. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to capture a Jedi that’s been wandering around here,” she explained. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to kill that Jedi,” Jhosua said with a chuckle. “We just got here, too.”

“No.” Ralina frowned.

“What?”

“That can’t happen. We have to take him back to our employer, or else one of my crew is going to die.”

Jhosua shook his head. “He’s too dangerous to be kept alive. There’s no way you’d be able to bring him back on your ship.”

“I have to, Jhosua.”

“I have an idea,” Kerre spoke up, limping toward them. “Did you say your employer was after a Jedi here?”

“I did,” Ralina repeated. “Who are you?”

“Not important. Does he know who that Jedi is?”

Ralina hesitated. “From the sound of his instructions, no.”

“Then help us,” Kerre offered. “If your employer doesn’t know the Jedi he’s looking for, any Jedi will do. Verita ought to do just fine and can fool your employer long enough to save your crewmate.”

“That sounds like a good idea, but how do we get rid of the Selkath?” Ralina asked.

Before Jhosua or Kerre could work out their plan, Verita cried out in pain. Qual had managed to disarm her, and he kicked her in the solar plexus before she could defend herself. Verita doubled over and clenched her chest. She was still recovering from her battle with Darth Odren, and she was already at a disadvantage; there was no way she could keep fighting.

Manda and Posh opened fire on Qual immediately. Kerre and Jhosua opened fire as well, aiming for the Jedi’s side. Although their effort to protect Verita worked for the time being, their blaster fire could penetrate the Jedi’s whirling shield. No matter what angle they chose to fire at him from, he could block their attacks with ease.

As they began to navigate around him and alter their line of fire, Ralina saw Rashinodies maneuver out from behind a crate and fire his underslung launcher. Qual saw the attack coming like the others, but he wasn’t expecting the burst of light from the projectile. Although the Selkath was only blinded for a moment, his moment of weakness was enough to take him down. Blaster fire struck at him from all sides, and he tumbled into the grass.

“We got him,” Ralina gasped.

Posh was the first to reach Qual’s body. Kneeling, he checked for a pulse from the wounded Jedi. His three eyes widened in terror. “Impossible! He’s alive!” Posh stammered.

“No way!” Kerre growled. “Those blaster shots could have taken down a Basilisk war droid!”

“I suspected this.” Rashinodies approached Posh and the Selkath. “The Jedi was weakened, but he was not without his skills. A sudden powerful energy shield could have absorbed all your shots. I’ve seen Jedi do it before.”

“Impossible…” Manda muttered.

“He’s incapacitated. We can kill him now,” Jhosua said.

Rashinodies pointed his blaster rifle at Jhosua’s head. “I don’t think so. My master requested this Jedi, and this Jedi he will have. Venliiii… load him onto your ship.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Rashinodies hissed. “Do you and your crew want to die?”

“It’s not just her and her crew anymore,” Jhosua shot back. “We’re in this together now. If you have an issue with her, you have an issue with all of us.”

Rashinodies snarled. He fired at Jhosua, only for his blaster shot to dissipate against his energy shield. Glancing around, he realized he was surrounded. Ralina, her crew, and Jhosua’s companions encircled him with their own blasters.

“Give up, Rashinodies. Now,” Ralina ordered.

“You don't tell me what to do! I’m going to contact Mercium, and I swear he’ll kill you and all your-”

Verita, who was waiting just behind Rashinodies, hammered the back of his head with the hilt of her lightsaber. Falling to the ground, Rashinodies’s attempt to recover his footing failed when Jhosua rushed toward him and grappled the hulking Trandoshan. Strangled by Jhosua’s blood choke, Rashinodies was conscious just long enough to see Kerre put a dozen blaster shots into Qual’s head. Seconds later, he was unconscious in the grass.

Releasing his hold on Rashinodies, Jhosua stood up again. “Verita, are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine, thanks,” she said, rubbing her side.

“Should I kill him, too?” Kerre asked. “All it would take is a round of fire.”

“Don’t waste your power pac,” Ralina said. “Jhosua, can you help get that overgrown lizard into my ship?”

“Of course,” he said.

“What are you planning, Captain?” Manda asked.

“All in due time, Manda. Leave the Jedi here, but take his lightsaber. It may prove useful,” Ralina said. “If you don’t mind, we should be getting back now.”

“I suppose we’re heading with you?” Verita asked.

“That’s the plan. Your vessel looks busted.” Ralina glanced at their ship. “I don’t suppose you have any sedatives with you, do you?”

“There were a few in the crates. I’ll grab some before we go,” Kerre noted.

Ralina smiled. “Excellent. Everyone, back into the Hound’s Sapphire. We need to pay a Hutt friend of ours a visit.”