Knights of the Old Republic: Knight of Alderaan/8-9

Chapter 8

“Here come hostiles!”

The voice repeated itself several times. He had heard it the first time. It wouldn’t be long now.

Jaeln Benax stood alone and surveyed the room around him. His blue eyes glittered as the pale light beat down upon him from above, creating a ferocious shadow behind him. He wore flowing charcoal-colored robes and a beige vest to further protect his torso. A personalized lightsaber decorated with runes rested on his sash, but he wouldn’t need it. Not yet. He kept his hands behind his back, waiting patiently his enemies to appear.

The serenity before combat always defined the rest of the battle for Jaeln. He didn’t know why, but the prospect of violence did not incite the dark side within him. It should have; that was what he was trained to do. There was no thrill. No adrenaline rush. He was the strongest lightsaber duelist he knew, and he had long since learned how to subdue the Force. Nothing could catch him off guard, and he could face any opponent in combat. These fights were created to keep him sharp, but he figured he didn’t need them.

As the computer’s voice had predicted, the first wave of enemies appeared. Twelve androids, carrying blaster rifles and armed with personal energy shields, emerged from adjacent rooms. These Sentinel war droids were designed as dispensable combatants, and they were useless unless they were fighting together in a large group. However, no amount of droids could stop a master of the Force. They could come in dozens at once, and they would still fall.

Jaeln let them attack first. No point in lashing out at the machines and finishing this exercise before it could begin. Several droids opened fire at him, sending a few green blaster shots at the young warrior. Placing his hands in front of him, Jaeln closed his eyes and diverted his attention from the droids before him and concentrated on the Force itself. That energy field that encompassed everything and conjoined the galaxy in a mythical bond. The tips of his fingers grasped at the Force. It was like reaching into a stream and feeling the water race by, and it gave him power. In the blink of an eye, a transparent wall was erected between Jaeln and his droid combatants. Each of their blaster shots dissipated against this wall, and the young warrior opened his eyes while all the droids began to fire upon him.

They were bold, – for machines – but they were not programmed to face someone like Jaeln. Still behind his protective wall, Jaeln went on the offensive. Concentrating on a single droid, he thought of sending it into the air. Sure enough, the Force granted his mental wish, and the droid was pulled off its feet and slowly lifted into the air, unable to fire its weapon. He wasn’t content with a single droid. Within seconds, more than half the droids were floating in the air, suspended by the power of the Force, weaponless and defenseless. The few droids that were still on the ground broke off their attack and began to approach Jaeln. They must have thought that they could bypass his shield.

A single Force-empowered push ended that idea. The rest of the droids were knocked to the ground and disabled. The second wave of droids appeared. Now, there were twice as many as before. But they were still hindered by their incompetent weaponry and poor combat algorithms. Jaeln was in no danger. A single spark erupted from his hand and hit the closest active droid. This current disabled the droid upon contact, permanently damaging its internal systems. The stream of energy continued, and it spread like a virus to the others. The damage done surpassed Jaeln’s expectations. When the current had finished, there were no droids left to fight him.

But there was still one opponent left. Turning around, Jaeln stared at his last enemy. An armored colossus that stood nearly three times as tall as any humanoid and was protected by tank armor and wielding heavy blaster cannons had been positioned in the farthest corner of the room. It could not move, but it had excellent targeting abilities and its weapons were deadly. It was programmed to activate once all the other droids had been dealt with. Jaeln figured he could just disable its sensors with the Force, but he wanted to end the battle as fancifully as he could.

Making sure his shield was strong enough to resist the mechanical beast’s first few attacks, Jaeln called upon the Force and grasped at all the combat droids he had already destroyed. Using them as makeshift projectiles, the warrior threw the disabled machines at their giant counterpart. The large droid ignored them, continuing to fire its lasers at Jaeln’s shields, which could hardly endure any more damage. The warrior pulled his lightsaber off his sash and activated it. His crimson blade leapt from the hilt, its luminescent glow and full height made evident immediately. Jaeln’s opponent could not feel fear, but if it could, the battle would have been won as soon as he revealed his weapon. Instead, he had to finish the job.

The Force flowed through his legs and increased the strength of his entire body. Time slowed around him, and blaster shots were nothing but slow-moving obstacles for him to avoid. It took a single, clean motion. Leaping into the air, he brought his weapon down and it got caught in the beast’s single green-colored photoreceptor, and it traveled downward with him. The blade cut through the machine’s otherwise-impressive armor with ease, and he damaged most of the droid’s internal systems by the time he had completed his jump and returned to the ground. The hulking droid staggered for a moment, struggling to recover from the damage it had sustained. But it was useless. A critical system failure forced the droid to deactivate. With its defeat, the exercise ended, and Jaeln was done.

“Impressive, Jaeln,” a voice said. “Most impressive.”

Jaeln recognized the high-pitched voice and knew it belonged to De’dlay, one of the Sith Masters of Alderaan. Turning to face his superior, Jaeln acknowledged his presence and then bowed as low as he could. The Nikto’s armor clinked as he walked; his Sith trooper armor was old, and De’dlay did not bother to refurbish it. He owned a lightsaber, but it wasn’t on his person. He figured that Jaeln would never try to lash out against his master in the sanctuary of his Sith academy.

“Stand, young one,” De’dlay spoke when Jaeln did not. “We have much to do and little time to do it.”

Jaeln stood and followed the Nikto out of the room. “Are we going to undertake a mission?” he asked.

“We are. All the Sith of Alderaan.”

“All of us?” Jaeln repeated. “What are you planning?”

“Not me. Preux.”

Preux. Jaeln had not heard that name prior to the disappearance of his younger brother, Raen, and now he could not go a day without hearing it. There had been a time when Jaeln had suspected that De’dlay led the Sith on Alderaan. Now there was little doubt in his mind that the exact opposite was true. Preux was the lord of Alderaan, and De’dlay was his executor. He had yet to meet the enigmatic figure, but he had a feeling he did not need to. There was little camaraderie between Sith, and the relationship between master and servant was even closer to enmity.

“What is he planning, then?”

De’dlay smiled toothily. “Not here, Jaeln. Let us speak in private. Follow me to the library.”

The trip was quick and silent. De’dlay did not say anything else to Jaeln, and the young Human was too focused on their mysterious upcoming mission to speak. Upon their arrival, the two Sith were greeted by a woman, hardly older than Jaeln, wearing the gray military uniform of the Sith, with short blond hair and piercing feline-like eyes. De’dlay greeted her with a dull grunt, and Calay welcomed him with equal enthusiasm. However, she addressed Jaeln with respect and cautiously flashed a smile to him before he seated himself near De’dlay. Jaeln knew Calay better than most of the other Sith on Alderaan. While De’dlay had been in charge of his formal training as a Sith apprentice, Calay had taught him in other ways, and they were closer for it.

“Calay, where is Fasin?” De’dlay asked, his voice fluctuating and unclear. Jaeln recognized it as a habit of the Nikto’s, particularly when he was impatient. He had always been good at recognizing personal idiosyncrasies, even in people he hardly knew.

“I am here, De’dlay,” Fasin spoke. He had been in their presence the entire time, but he had hidden himself amongst the books in the corner of the room. As a Cathar, he was larger than all of them, but his kempt dark fur and braided mane conflicted with the idea of the wild feline he was supposed to be. He was far older than Jaeln and the other two Sith Masters put together, keeping himself alive through the unnatural power of the dark side.

“Fasin, have you been informed of the plan?” De’dlay growled.

“Preux ensures I am informed of all his plans,” Fasin retorted.

“You think too highly of yourself,” De’dlay sneered, taking note of the fellow Sith’s cold tone. “Humble yourself before me, the master of this academy!”

Fasin scoffed. “You will receive the respect you earn. And you have earned nothing from me.”

De’dlay arose and grasped at his lightsaber, which had been resting on the desk in the library until now. “You’re insane. You are my servant because I am stronger than you. You will respect me.”

The Cathar hissed under his breath, but he said nothing. In fact, neither of them said anything, and neither of them attempted to attack the other. To his surprise, Jaeln watched the potentially violent situation diffuse in silence. De’dlay returned to his seat, and Fasin’s silence became his means of surrender to the other Sith Master.

The three Sith Masters of Alderaan – Calay, De’dlay and Fasin – all served Preux, but they were not equals. Despite Fasin’s age and supposed mastery of the dark side, he had been displaced as the master of the Sith’s academy on Alderaan several decades earlier by De’dlay. Fear kept the three Sith in a fragile alliance. Fear of Preux, for he was stronger than them all.

“Now we may begin,” De’dlay continued.

“What is your apprentice doing here, De’dlay?” Fasin asked. His voice dripped with loathing for the Nikto Sith, and he did not bother making eye contact.

“Jaeln is here because Preux demands it,” De’dlay replied. “You said you knew all of Preux’s machinations. So much for that! If you weren’t lying, you would know that Jaeln is the most prominent of the Sith Marauders, and he has proven himself in battle-”

“Against droids,” Fasin noted.

“Don’t underestimate him,” Calay shot back, defending Jaeln. “He’s taken out Jedi before. And he’s stronger than most of your apprentices.”

Fasin’s eyes glistened at the mention of his students, and what Jaeln thought was a smile snuck on the old Cathar’s face. “Oh? So Jaeln is more skilled than Vericcho and Pallidus, is he? I doubt that, Calay. I quite doubt that.”

“You are too cynical,” Calay spat.

Fasin cackled. “You speak as though you know of raising students in the dark side, Calay. What happened to your pupils? Mar’vai perished due to plague, and little Dynatha was accused of being a traitor. You have yet to train a successful heir for yourself.”

“You don’t know anything either, Master Fasin,” Jaeln finally spoke up. “Your students are just like you – enamored by old stories and ancient tomes. I am here because I am the strongest Sith Marauder, and I am the strongest because I was trained by Master De’dlay.”

“Enough!” Fasin shouted. He glared at Jaeln, and then the other Sith Masters. He found himself opposed by his apparent allies, and he ceased his offensive for now. “We have wasted enough time bickering here. When this mission ends, we will see who has died and who remains to receive Preux’s blessing.”

“First reasonable thing you’ve said,” De’dlay said. “Jaeln, you are the only one of us who does not know why we are here. Our master – Preux – has decided to end the long reign of the Republic on Alderaan. Our time here on Alderaan has not been wasted; since our arrival, we have strengthened our garrison and abducted many, forcing them to join our ranks. We have infiltrated this world of artisans and scholars, and we have taken root. It is time to take it by force.”

Jaeln crossed his arms. The Nikto’s words could mean only one thing, but the young Sith feigned ignorance for now. “How? What are you saying, Master?”

“The royal family has turned a blind eye to our activities so far, as long as we pay them heftily to falsify reports to the Senate. The time for secrecy has ended. Preux has given us permission to overthrow them.”

“Master, House Latona is loved, and they’ve done more for the good of Alderaan and its position in the Republic than any of their predecessors. Any sort of uprising by us would cause hysteria,” Jaeln mused.

“Boy, you needn’t worry about such trivialities. The reaction of the hoi polloi does not concern Preux, so it does not concern us,” Fasin chided Jaeln.

“Besides,” Calay interrupted, “House Organa has pledged to support us, and they are quite popular with the citizens.”

“Why would House Organa support us? Won’t the Republic strike back?” Jaeln asked.

Fasin laughed. “De’dlay, I don’t believe in your student’s strength, but his inquisitive nature is obvious. If he were older, he might have even been a tactician during the war against Mandalore.”

“Jaeln, you are to follow our orders, not question them,” De’dlay sighed. “We will inform you of your part in this plan before long. For now, prepare yourself. We shall attack in three day’s time.”

Jaeln nodded and rose from his seat, bidding the Sith Masters farewell. He would be ready, no matter what the result, for this unexpected assault.

***                                                                                                                  ***

Aldera, the capital city of Alderaan, was beautiful in the starlight. Mountains formed a semicircle in the distance, creating a natural defense that would have hindered ancient invaders. Even the serene lake that surrounded most of the city hinted at the ingenuity and practical-mindedness of Aldera’s architects, turning the vast body of water into a natural moat. The city’s alabaster towers reached for the sky, peering out from behind the walls that encompassed the entire city. At its heart rested the Castle of Alderaan, with its three ebony spires and vast citadel shielding it from direct assault.

The splendor of the city was not lost upon Jaeln, who stood several hundred meters from the city walls. In a few hours, the capital would not retain its majesty. Artillery fire and bombardment would raze buildings and burn the land. It was a tragic thing, the loss of beauty. Although the Sith planned on leaving most of the buildings intact, there was no guarantee that a single brick would be left standing before dawn.

The sound of footsteps on damp grass alerted him of Calay’s approach. He remained still, focusing on the city before them. To his surprise, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her chest against his back. Calay hardly acted on her passions in public, mostly to avoid arousing suspicion. Why should she sacrifice her position and appearance to express her love for Jaeln before others? Jaeln ignored her for a moment, playfully ignoring the Sith Master until she whispered something unintelligible in his ear.

“What was that?” Jaeln whispered back, still coy.

“Are you ready, love?”

“I hope so,” Jaeln replied. He caressed her hand for a brief moment. “This could be our last battle.”

“We should have done something romantic,” Calay bemoaned.

“We’re here – alone – and we have time.”

“Not enough.”

“Sure there is-”

Calay frowned and escaped Jaeln’s grasp. “No, there isn’t. De’dlay’s trying to contact me. It’s time to begin.”

“Calay,” Jaeln called out to her.

“Yes?”

“Don’t die.”

“I can’t,” Calay purred. “I need to come back to you.”

Activating the stealth generator on her belt, Calay faded from view as she headed for the capital. The Sith troopers that were flown in from the southern hemisphere would have to wait for her to sneak over the city walls and open the sanctuary gates, but the Force-sensitive Sith could begin their attack. While the battalions of Sith soldiers began their somber march toward the sanctuary gates in the distance, Jaeln followed Calay toward the walls of the city.

Jaeln saw no patrols around the city walls, and he was not spotted as he approached. Calling upon the Force, Jaeln leapt from the grass below to the top of the wall. The young Sith Marauder waited there, alone and silent, on the wall-walk until the other Sith joined him. Fasin and his pupils ended up on his right, and De’dlay and the other Marauders were on his left. Jaeln scanned the city’s skyline and took a last, almost whimsical glance at the city in its nighttime glory. He had seen the capital only twice before, and this would be the last. Its buildings were not scarred by residue, its roads lacked the stains of blood and the piles of corpses, and the castle was still standing. Not for long. Destroying art was always the hardest part of his missions.

The Sith, led by De’dlay, made their way from the walls to the castle itself. It was not difficult, and the Sith traveled from rooftop to rooftop, encountering no resistance. All the guards were either stationed inside the castle to defend the king or around the walls to defend the city’s exterior. The ones inside the castle had likely gotten lazy. After all, how often was the capital of Alderaan attacked?

Jaeln and the other Sith entered the castle by leaping from nearby rooftops and breaking through several upper-floor windows. No alarms were raised, and they could begin their mission without trouble. Jaeln found himself alone in a dark and otherwise empty room. Approaching the door, he pressed his hand against the frame. The Force placed images into his mind, showing him the two guards that stood watch on the other side of the door. He could hear their voices and feel their hearts beating. His power naturally stemmed forth from his body, and invisible tendrils grasped at the guards’ throats. As the Force choked the clueless guards, he opened the door telekinetically to reveal himself to his victims.

They were dead before he could step out of the room. His first kills of the evening, but certainly not the last. As he glanced down the dark hallways around him, his comlink buzzed in his ear. “This is Jaeln. I’m inside the castle.”

“Good work, Jaeln,” De’dlay’s voice replied. He sounded a bit distracted, but that was to be expected. They were undertaking a dangerous mission. “Each of the Sith must kill different Alderaanian leaders. You will be responsible for killing the princess.”

“Why? Isn’t she just a kid?” Jaeln asked.

“She’s eighteen,” De’dlay pointed out.

She was as old as Jaeln’s brother… Raen. So she was just a kid, just like he was. “Noted. I’ll make sure she’s dealt with.”

“Very well. De’dlay out.”

Jaeln turned his attention back to his surroundings, and he realized he had no idea where the princess’s chambers were. There had to be a map somewhere, but he did not have time to scour the castle for one. Instead of dwelling on the decision, Jaeln picked a random passage and sprinted down the halls. Luckily, these passageways were darkened and the guards were sparse. The sounds of blaster fire and artillery were getting louder, and Jaeln figured that the Sith soldiers were rapidly approaching the castle.

Racing up a flight of stairs, Jaeln ran into a group of four guards. They were startled to see him, and they probably did not even know they were under attack. The castle’s poor communication would prove to be its downfall. Jaeln used a concentrated burst of telekinesis to cripple two of the guards, sending them flying into walls behind them. The other two managed to draw their blasters before Jaeln used a burst of Force lightning to disable their weapons. The blaster of one of the guards exploded in a violent burst of excess energy, and the burns felled him. The last guard, weaponless, tried to flee from the Sith invader.

Jaeln grabbed his lightsaber and threw the weapon at his escaping target. Its blood-red blade activated in midair, and it successfully tore off one of the guard’s legs. Crying out in pain, the crippled guard was already pleading for mercy by the time Jaeln approached him.

“Please… don't… don’t kill me! I’ll do anything!” the guard yelped when he saw Jaeln’s weapon.

“We’ll make a deal,” Jaeln mused, “I’ll spare your life in exchange for information.”

“Anything!” the guard cried.

“Where is the princess?”

“Eliorae? Well, why didn’t you say you were looking for her? She’s two floors up, in the room next to the large mural of the Alderaanian grassland. Please don’t kill me.”

“Very well,” Jaeln muttered. The young Sith deactivated his lightsaber and headed for the nearest flight of stairs, leaving the wounded guard to his fate. He had agreed not to kill him, but he would not protect him from Sith who happened to pass him by. The Sith soldiers were probably inside the castle by now, and everyone inside would soon be on alert. He had to hurry and reach the princess before any other soldiers interfered with his hunt.

Reaching the floor that the guard had told him about, Jaeln raced down the hall and cut down the guards that idly stood in his way. He had been hesitant about using his lightsaber to defeat these trivial opponents, but they had become a waste of his valuable time; he would not exert the effort to kill them with the Force.

Once he had reached the room by the mural, he checked its door. He didn’t expect it to be unlocked, and a quick telekinetic nudge forced the door wide open. He was shocked at the sight of two Dark Jedi and a Sith Marauder waiting for him. Based on their reaction, they were startled to see him too. He didn’t recognize the Dark Jedi, whose identities were hidden behind cowls; however, he knew their leader. Vericcho, one of Fasin’s students.

Three guards and a woman – probably a maidservant – were dead at Vericcho’s feet. He smiled toothily when he saw Jaeln, but otherwise made no sudden motion. A hideous birthmark covered his forehead, and his misshapen nose stood out a bit more than his crooked yellow teeth. He had almost no hair, and his yellow eyes reflected his devotion to the dark side. Strips of linen rested in his hand, probably from the dead maidservant’s dress.

One of the Dark Jedi was in the process of beating a second maidservant, and the other Dark Jedi was trying to restrain the princess herself. They were disobeying orders, being in here. Jaeln was responsible for these targets.

“Vericcho? What’s going on here?” Jaeln asked fiercely.

“Ah, Jaeln,” Vericcho cooed. “We are simply earning our just rewards. Can you believe they wanted to kill this royal beauty, her mother, and all the courtesans? What a waste. We couldn’t save the queen, but we’ll savor the princess.”

The princess cried something unintelligible in the distance. Her sudden outburst angered her captor, and he struck her in the face. Jaeln moved toward her, but Vericcho halted his advance. Thinking quick, Jaeln started to move around him, but a Force push from Vericcho kept him back. This sadist better not be trying to stop me,  Jaeln thought. He was sure the other Sith Marauder had his own orders, and he wasn’t supposed to be here. Fasin’s pupil was just disobeying them to satiate his selfish desires.

“Get out. You have a mission of your own to attend to,” Jaeln demanded.

Vericcho shook his head. “Can’t do that, Jaeln. If we leave, you’ll kill her. I’ve got business here that needs to be done.”

“Go act on your greedy thoughts somewhere else, when we’re not on a mission. You’re endangering everyone.”

“What do I care?” Vericcho laughed as he spoke. “We’re Sith. I look out for one person – me.”

“I don’t care what you do. You don’t interfere with my assignments.”

“Or what?”

Jaeln refused to stand idly by while Vericcho insulted him. It was bad enough that his master, Fasin, spoke coldly of De’dlay. Now his audacious student dared to interrupt Jaeln’s mission? As his rage boiled, Jaeln found himself swinging his lightsaber at Vericcho’s throat. The sadist coolly activated his own weapon and deflected Jaeln’s attack.

“What do you think you’re doing, Jaeln?”

Jaeln ignored him. Vericcho should have backed down. Seeing the futility of diplomacy, Vericcho growled and, after parrying his opponent’s lightsaber, lunged at his erstwhile ally. Jaeln’s weapon collided with his opponent’s before it could make contact. Vericcho had the upper hand for mere seconds before Jaeln tilted the duel in his favor. Performing a wide upward swing, Jaeln startled the weaker Marauder and forced him on the defensive. Fasin had gotten lazy teaching his students the art of lightsaber dueling, it seemed. What was a Marauder if he couldn’t kill another Force-sensitive? A few feints and Jaeln successfully caught his opponent off-guard. A quick horizontal cut severed Vericcho’s weapon arm, and without a lightsaber, Vericcho could do very little but plead for clemency before Jaeln cut off his other arm as well.

Vericcho whimpered, gasping as he stepped away from his opponent. “Hold on, Jaeln! How about we share the spoils! The other Sith would be far too distracted-”

“Too late, Vericcho. You’ve crossed the line.”

“We’re Sith, Jaeln. There is no line. I was only looking out for myself.”

“So am I.” Grabbing the weapon that Vericcho dropped, Jaeln drove the lightsaber into its master’s skull. There was the sound of breath escaping, for the last time, before Vericcho fell to the floor.

The two Dark Jedi diverted their full attention to Jaeln. When they realized that Jaeln did not intend to spare them, they took action. One of the Dark Jedi cut apart the last servant, but before the other could kill the princess, Jaeln stole his lightsaber. Now dual-wielding lightsabers, he struck at the Dark Jedi threatening the princess, killing him in one blow. He whipped around, but the Force told him that he was already in danger. Backflipping, he narrowly avoided an overhead strike from the other Dark Jedi. Before Jaeln could counter, a blaster shot flew by his head and ripped through the Dark Jedi’s chest. A small pool of blood covered the floor as the second Dark Jedi crumpled over.

Once he was sure he was safe from his Sith foes, Jaeln turned his attention to the princess. She was on the floor with her back against the wall, curled in a fetal position. A blaster rested at her feet, taken from a guardsman’s corpse. Her bruised hands and unkempt, long blond hair covered her pale face. There was some blood on her dress and a bit on her hands and hair, but she wasn’t in immediate danger. At least, not from her injuries.

He stepped toward the princess as quietly as he could. She still had a blaster, so she was still dangerous. As he stepped closer to her, he thought he heard the muffled sound of her sobs, but he was mistaken. She was laughing. The princess didn’t bother to look up at him, even as he knelt down beside her and placed himself between the blaster and her reach.

“Eliorae,” Jaeln whispered.

She did not respond to him and continued laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“You…”

“Me?”

“You lose,” she said. “The princess has escaped with her bodyguard. Killing me amounts to nothing. You fail, Sith.” She lifted her head to see Jaeln for the first time, and Jaeln could tell from the look in her brown eyes that she was not lying. She was a distraction.

“You think I can’t chase her down?”

“You don’t know where she’s gone.”

Jaeln’s rage boiled inside of him. Not only had he killed Vericcho, but now his prey evaded him like a wounded animal! Activating his lightsaber, the young Sith Marauder held the weapon close enough to the decoy’s eyes that she could have been blinded by the blade’s glow.

“You will tell me, or you will die,” he growled.

“Then I die.”

She had tried to grab her blaster, but she didn’t realize Jaeln stood between her and her weapon. Before she could remedy her mistake, Jaeln shouted and slashed the young woman’s throat with his lightsaber. Without her, Jaeln didn’t have any way to find out where the princess had gone, but he didn’t care. He could try and reach out in the Force and sense her, but amidst all the chaos compounded with the hundreds of individuals inside the castle, honing in on one fleeing person he had never met would be difficult.

Sorely defeated, Jaeln abandoned his hunt for now. He needed a moment to clear his head, or else he would return to the fray blinded by rage.

***                                                                                                                  ***

It was almost sunrise. The Sith had assailed the castle, and most of the royal family and their advisers had fallen. Only the king remained, holed up in his throne room with the last of his traditional guards and his Force-sensitive guardsmen. He was tenacious. He had staved off the Sith troopers with his forces for several hours, and his throne room doors were defended by auto-turrets and a shielding unit. Nevertheless, the Sith troopers had pressed on; now they were at the last door, and all the other defenses had been disabled. A battering ram smashed into the door’s metal frame. It would not be long now.

De’dlay stood triumphant, watching his soldiers’ weapon break down King Sigmund III Latona’s last defense. All was proceeding exactly as De’dlay had hoped. Fasin had died trying to kill the king’s wife, Undine. Although he had not expected him to die, De’dlay was certainly pleased at the development. Fasin’s insolence was worrisome, and it was time for him to be replaced by a far more obedient Sith Master. His death was certainly not in vain; several Force-sensitive guardsmen died before the ancient Sith finally fell. Alderaan’s senator died at Calay’s hand, and now she stood at De’dlay’s side, waiting to join him in his moment of triumph.

Jaeln was not here, though. Scouts reported extensive damage to the princess’ room from the artillery fire, and no corpses were recovered. Whatever the reason for Jaeln’s absence, De’dlay was certain that his pupil had succeeded. The Nikto did not sense him in the Force, which was strange, but the Sith Master had redirected his focus to the area around him. The bloodlust of his soldiers, Calay’s silent fury, and the looming power of death gave De’dlay strength. His immediate perception was heightened at the expense of his traditional farsight.

“We’ve breached the door!” a Sith commander shouted. Sure enough, the door to the throne room flew open, and blaster shots flew out from inside. Several Sith troopers around De’dlay were killed by the wild blaster fire, but the Sith Master himself remained safe.

Calay looked at her own commander, and De’dlay smiled toothily. Nodding, he gave her a silent order. “All Sith, through the breach! Alderaan falls at dawn!” he shouted.

***                                                                                                                  ***

Jaeln was alone now. The sound of his footsteps against the old floorboards did little to remedy the otherwise all-encompassing silence. He realized that the throne room was near when corpses became far more numerous. Sith troopers were strewn about the halls, and blood was splattered across the walls and stained the carpeting in the conjoining rooms. They had taken heavy losses, but for every Sith corpse, three dead Alderaanian guardsmen were found nearby. He relished the results of the battle, but he was still distracted. The princess was gone.

He had tracked her from the palace into the countryside beyond; it had taken some time, and it had proved fruitless. The Sith soldiers who tried to stop him proved ill-prepared to face a dark side adept of his caliber, and he killed anyone who got in his way. When he was sure the princess was out of his reach, he half-heartedly returned. He had to return, either to learn the outcome of the attack, or to receive his punishment for failure.

The throne room doors were smashed in when he arrived. The battle had ended. Sith soldiers littered the floor, scattered across the vast chamber that was once regal and splendid. Signs of battle were rampant, from the severed limbs to the scars of blaster fire on the walls. One of the beautiful stained-glass windows had been shattered, and its shards were scattered across the floor nearby and in the courtyard below. The surviving Sith soldiers were standing, ready and able, in lines near the walls.

De’dlay, Calay, and the rest of the Sith and Dark Jedi were in the center of the room, speaking to a figure that Jaeln did not recognize. This unknown figure levitated about a meter off the ground, suspended by the power of the Force. He wore a shroud that covered his entire body, including his face, from Jaeln and the rest of his compatriots. Only his eyes, pale blue and fatigued, were visible beyond the cloak he wore. His very presence caused Jaeln’s legs to quake; the dark side flowed out from him like no one else, not even the Sith Masters. His power brought Jaeln to his knees as he approached, in spite of his determination to stand.

“Jaeln,” De’dlay began, sounding irate. “Where were you-?”

He was silenced by a single wave of the enigmatic figure’s hand. “Be still, De’dlay. Do not speak unless I command you to do so.” His hoarse voice sent chills down Jaeln’s spine. It did not sound natural, and each word seemed interlaced with a darkness that he could not comprehend. The figure turned to Jaeln. “Arise, Marauder.”

Jaeln stood up, but he had some difficulty because he still felt overpowered by the figure’s presence. “Who are you?” Jaeln managed to ask.

The figure scoffed. “I have many names, and I have claimed few. Some call me Master. Others call me Lord. You, servant, may address me as Preux.”

Jaeln shifted his gaze away from Preux. So this was the Sith Lord of Alderaan…  His power seemed accurate based on the accounts he had received, but his physical appearance left something to be desired. Jaeln expected to encounter a massive, imposing figure with tattoos and ornate robes. Instead, Preux himself was nearly Jaeln’s height, and he simply appeared taller because he was floating by the power of the Force. Nevertheless, Jaeln realized that all appearances could be deceiving; his aura alone was enough to humble Jaeln.

“Where… where is the king?” Jaeln asked.

“He is dead, as are his guardsmen. I am the new sovereign of Alderaan. The Sith shall rule now, and I shall bring in a new era of prosperity and peace.”

“Peace is a lie, Master Preux,” De’dlay pointed out. “We have gained what we have because we fought for it. And now we have it, you want peace?”

“We fight for peace, De’dlay,” Preux said with a sigh.

“That is not the way of the Sith, Master,” De’dlay countered.

“You have never understood.”

“You share nothing with me.”

“Ignorance is ignorance, no matter the reason.”

“Master Preux, we have won today. The fighting is over.”

Preux scoffed. “And you desire more bloodshed! Perhaps I was right about you from the beginning. I can sense your dark thoughts, and I know you are envious of my power and my knowledge. But they are beyond you, and you cannot have them.”

De’dlay paused for a brief moment, but Jaeln could tell he was taken aback. “I do not understand, Master. The rush of battle has come over you. I should inform the soldiers to depart so we may talk in private.”

“So you may stab me in the back while we are alone?” Preux hissed. “Your machinations are as shallow as your understanding of the Force.”

“Preux, I do not-”

“Silence! I know you have worked against me from the very beginning,” Preux said. Jaeln was surprised to hear sadness in his voice. “Betrayal is the way of the Sith, is it not? Even if I was to praise your actions, you have failed to learn the most basic tenant of your kind. Authority belongs to those who have the most power. You have failed in your task to surpass me, so you have tried to attack my servants. But you have failed that, as well. Calay, restrain him.”

Calay suddenly moved from her position between Preux and Jaeln. De’dlay, sensing her ill intent, reached for his lightsaber, but it was too late. Once Calay distracted De’dlay, Preux used his dark powers to restrain the Sith Master in a stasis field. There was no fight; De’dlay had been fooled. Preux called the other Sith Marauders to him, and De’dlay was bound and rendered weaponless.

“You did away with Raen Benax, and now I will see you no more. You dishonored Fasin for his loyalty to me, now I will shame you for your disloyalty. You captured Dynatha and tortured her. Now, captured, you will suffer. Get him out of my sight.”

De’dlay drifted into a dark side-induced comatose state before the Sith Marauders took him from the throne room. Calay bowed before her master, and Jaeln followed suit, not knowing what else to do.

“What shall we do now, Master?” Calay asked.

“Alderaan is mine, Calay. Your services will not be needed as of now. Return to the academy and tend to it until De’dlay’s successor can be determined. Advise the Sith Marauders and ensure they compete for his position with vigor and selfishness.”

Calay nodded and turned to leave. Jaeln muttered farewell to Calay, but she did not hear him. Turning his attention to Preux, he asked: “What do you want me to do?”

“Jaeln, stay with me here for now. You and I have much to discuss, about the Sith and your duties now that I control Alderaan.”

“As you will.”

Chapter 9 

“Approaching Destination 0-Z9: ETA 10 minutes.”

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have. Raen hadn’t rested soundly since he and Gaiel had left Dantooine. His body was hard-pressed for sleep, and he ultimately found himself a comfortable place to rest his head in the cargo hold. Stretching, Raen tried to ease the tension in his muscles before gathering his belongings and heading from the cargo hold to the conjoined cockpit. No matter how comfortable he had been, the floor was still not a bed, and his body was not used to anything else.

Sometimes, he regretted ever agreeing to join Gaiel. From the tundra of Polus to his ultimate destination – a prison – on Coruscant, Raen was being dragged across the galaxy on unrelated missions that Gaiel needed to complete. He suspected that their next destination, Ambria, would be another such stop, despite what Gaiel said. Raen had heard of Ambria before; he had also been told there was nothing notable about it.

Raen entered the cockpit. Sure enough, Gaiel was still piloting the vessel in the absence of an autopilot, easing it toward the arid surface of Ambria. The Nautolan didn’t acknowledge Raen’s presence until the younger Force-sensitive leaned against the co-pilot’s seat.

“Why are we going to Ambria?” Raen asked. He had asked the same question several times since they left Polus, but Gaiel withheld his answer.

“You’ll see once we arrive.”

“That’s not encouraging.”

Gaiel smirked. “Do you think I’m leading you into some Jedi death-camp?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Raen mused, crossing his arms. “You haven’t told me anything.”

“I’d rather you not know everything,” Gaiel admitted.

“Why?”

“You’d probably protest.”

Raen sat down in the seat. “And why would I do that?”

“Because that’s how you are,” Gaiel said.

“You don’t know me.”

“Raen, please. I’m trying to pilot this ship. Can we argue later?”

Raen bitterly acquiesced to Gaiel’s request, turning from the Nautolan Jedi to the viewport. The cockpit was silent for the next few minutes as Gaiel completed the ship’s descent. Bringing the small vessel to rest in a rocky clearing between several hills, Gaiel made sure the ship was safe from any natural hazards before committing himself to their landing zone. Raen remained in his seat as Gaiel left the pilot’s seat and gathered his gear from a footlocker nearby.

“We’re leaving?” Raen asked whimsically.

“Did you think we were going to land on the planet and admire the view from the ship? Of course we’re going outside,” Gaiel shot back. “Make sure you have all your gear, and let’s go.”

Raen had already gathered his equipment, so he headed outside of the ship to wait for Gaiel. The Nautolan joined him outside after a few minutes, and the two left the ship behind and headed into the Ambrian wasteland.

Ambria’s sun produced a radiant orange glow that burned the terrain below. Vegetation was nonexistent and water was sparse. As the two Force-sensitives walked, they found little opportunity to gain solace from the noonday heat; vast expanses of desert with low-lying rocks provided little shade and no protection. The arid environment caused Raen discomfort, and he imagined that Gaiel was suffering as well. Their robes, while suitable for cool environments, were hardly able to shield its wearer from more extreme elements.

They walked for some time in silence. Sweat was beginning to collect on Raen’s brow, and his legs had grown tired. He did not slow down their progress, though, because Gaiel was equally fatigued. Without a word, the two sat down near a small collection of rocks, taking a break from their trek.

“These desert worlds… I don’t know how anyone stands them,” Raen spoke. His hoarse voice made him realize that he was unbearably thirsty.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Gaiel admitted. “I thought it would be easier than traveling on Polus, but the heat here is just as bad as those blizzards.”

“Why are we here, anyway?” Raen wondered aloud, hoping to finally get an answer.

Gaiel sighed. “There’s a Jedi here. He’s rather famous, but a bit of a recluse. He spent a good deal of time here, training Jedi before the war against Exar Kun.”

“Here? He lives here? Is he still alive?” Raen asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine. I don’t know how to find him-”

“Wait, you don’t know where he is?” Raen interrupted. “I am not wandering this place searching for some hermit!”

“He’s not just some hermit! He’s…” Gaiel repeated himself, quietly, a few more times. He stopped speaking and his eyes drifted from Raen into the distance. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“Someone’s in trouble.”

Raen crossed his arms. “I didn’t feel anything.”

“Trust me. Someone is in trouble,” Gaiel said, pointing toward the east. “That way. Not too far from here. We should help.”

“It could be a trap.”

“It’s not a trap. Even if it is, we’re Jedi. It’s our duty.”

“You’re a Jedi. And I have a bad feeling about this.”

Gaiel shook his head. “A second ago, you said you didn’t feel anything.”

Raen said nothing. Instead, he stood up and motioned toward the east. Gaiel nodded and joined him, and they used the Force to give them supernatural speed and stamina. Sprinting across the desert wasteland, the two Jedi left their position by the rocks and raced through the empty expanse. The two Jedi stopped as they sensed several other sentient beings in the area. They were in the open at first, but Gaiel spotted an eroded stone pillar in the distance and they positioned themselves behind it for cover.

In the distance, an old Human male, clothed in a tattered cloak and worn garments, was standing, cane in hand, in the midst of half a dozen swoop bikes and their riders. He seemed to be at their mercy, but Gaiel and Raen were too far to hear the exchange between the two parties. Suddenly, one of the swoop bikers – a Rodian – fired on the old man.

“Raen!” Gaiel shouted.

“I’m on it!” Raen answered.

Jumping from his position behind the pillar, the Force-sensitive dashed toward the swoop bikers and their unfortunate target. Once he was sure that Raen was on his way, Gaiel joined him.

The old man was not killed by the Rodian’s blaster shot. Dodging the attack with unnatural luck, the old man jumped toward the Rodian and crushed his fragile skull with his cane. The other swoop bikers opened fire on the old man when they realized he had killed their compatriot; however, they were too late. The old man pushed the Rodian’s swoop at the other attackers with telekinesis, and the vehicle smashed into two other swoop bikes, destroying all three and killing their passengers. The other swoop bikers fled their victim-turned-hunter, but they did not make their escape fast enough. The old man picked up a pair of large stones with his mind and threw the boulders at his fleeing targets, destroying two more swoop bikes. Raen and Gaiel used the Force to flip the last swoop bike and throw its riders into the rocky ground below.

One of the passengers, a Zabrak, was killed on impact with the ground. The Human driver survived the crash, but he was bleeding and his leg had been painfully broken. Raen gathered their captive’s weapons while Gaiel stood over the Human, who was fading in and out of consciousness due to blood loss. The old man himself rushed to their side with alarming speed. His cloak was pulled away from his head, revealing his pale skin, almost as white as the braided beard that reached his chest.

“Are you all right?” Gaiel asked the old man.

“Never mind me, lad. How’re they? Any survivors?” the old man asked.

“This Human here is barely alive, but I think with some medical attention, he’ll be fine,” Gaiel mused.

“This pirate?” the old man asked aloud. “He does not deserve any sort of attention. He and his crew have been preying on the weak and helpless in this sector for months. He’s made a profit by causing pain.”

“Do you suggest we leave him?” Gaiel asked incredulously.

“It would be too dangerous otherwise. What has he done? No. Besides, you have not come here to tend to wounded criminals. You are here for something more,” the old man continued.

“How do you know?” Raen asked, throwing the criminals’ weapons into the last remaining swoop bike, which he had flipped upright with another telekinetic push.

“You’re wearing the robes of a Jedi, as am I,” the old man said. He motioned toward the torn but still identifiable Jedi robes beneath his cloak. “We are one and the same. If you two Jedi are on Ambria, then you must be searching for Master Thon.”

“Master Thon is here?” Gaiel asked. Recomposing himself, he added: “Yes, we were looking for him, but we weren’t sure if he was alive.”

“He is definitely alive,” the old man noted, “if cynical. You’ll have some work to do if you’re planning on convincing him to teach you anything.”

Gaiel sighed. “We can manage that once we get there. Can you take us to him?”

“Of course. Let me take you there. It isn’t far, but it would be quicker if we took this swoop bike instead of walking,” the old man replied.

Gaiel nodded, but Raen turned to the Nautolan and gave him a disbelieving look. Were they about to trust another random stranger? Gaiel’s unnatural trust in strangers would be his undoing, Raen suspected, and he didn’t want to be there to witness it. This old man may or may not have been a Jedi, and it didn’t really matter. Raen still didn’t know why they had to travel to this particular planet; he didn’t even know why they had to visit this particular Jedi Master. He had been dragged along on this trip against his will. Anything was better than a prison cell, but these treks were starting to take their toll.

Gaiel seemed to know what his companion was thinking, and he silenced any doubts Raen had with a wave of his hand and a slight cough. He had only given Raen the gesture once before, when they were headed onto Ralina’s ship on Dantooine. He remembered cues and signs like this one, and Raen bitterly decided that he would put his faith in Gaiel’s trust, and by extension, this old man’s honesty. The three Force-sensitives piled into the last speeder, and they were soon heading through the desert, bypassing crags and empty wastes, on their way to Thon’s abode.

The sun had set long before the old man, who introduced himself as Jasparan, had parked their speeder by a murky lake in the midst of an otherwise barren valley. Once they had left the speeder behind, Gaiel and Raen followed Jasparan in silence, although trailing him proved difficult due to the thick clouds that hid the moons of Ambria and many of the stars. After some time, the trio reached a small, primitive house with a small garden.

“Is this it?” Raen wondered aloud. “Seems awfully simple for a Jedi Master.”

“That’s the point,” Jasparan corrected him. “Jedi forsake material wealth to foster humility and kindliness, and to experience a closer connection to the Force.”

“I don’t understand,” Raen said. “It would make sense for lowly Jedi to give up their belongings and serve the Jedi Order. But after you have reached a rank where you have enough prestige and respect, can’t you reclaim everything you once had – or much more?”

“Jedi are not nobles, Raen. Our ranks allude only to our mastery and dedication to the Force or swordplay. And even those can be misleading. Power and riches lead to temptation, and eventually the dark side itself,” Jasparan corrected Raen.

Raen nodded, even though he did not understand. Jasparan muttered something to himself before opening the door to the home and bidding the two other Jedi to enter. Gaiel walked in first – much to Raen’s relief – in his eagerness to see Master Thon. Raen followed the Nautolan Jedi, and Jasparan joined them both in the small home’s foyer.

“Master Thon! We have visitors!” Jasparan called out.

“Nrghh. Has Northeus returned with his Padawan?” a deep, guttural voice asked.

“I’m afraid not, Master. But two other Jedi have arrived. They seek your council.”

“I have never turned down young servants searching for guidance. Mrgg. Send them in, Jasparan.”

The old man motioned toward a hallway at the far end of the vacated chamber they were standing in. “Just head through that hall, and make a right. Master Thon will meet you there.”

Gaiel nodded and led Raen toward Thon’s chamber. Jasparan himself bowed and departed from the other two Jedi, leaving them alone in the halls of Thon’s home. The entire house was rather cold due to the slits that were carved out of the wall to let light in during the day. Raen pulled his robe closer to his body in an effort to keep warm, but Gaiel didn’t seem to mind. Raen figured that his companion was too excited to notice the temperature; they were about to see a Jedi Master, after all. Almost bumping his head on one of the many low-hanging lanterns that provided light for the home at night, Raen hastily caught up with Gaiel and turned into Thon’s chamber.

Thon sat at the center of his sparsely decorated room. There was a wicker basket in the farthest corner of the room, presumably to hold his few personal belongings, and a straw bed on the floor to sleep on. Thon arose from the floor, standing on all four of his powerful legs, and trudged toward the two visiting Jedi. He was a larger than both Jedi, even on all fours, and the massive bony frill that extended from the back of his head created the illusion that he was much larger still. He had a gray beard that nearly touched the floor, which seemed to contrast his otherwise reptilian features.

Raen spoke up as Thon approached. “Are you… you’re not Thon, are you?”

“Nrghh. Were you expecting someone else, young one?” Thon mused. “Does my appearance frighten you? It has been many years since anyone has been frightened by me.”

“Not frightened,” Raen corrected. “Confused. I didn’t think… you don’t look…”

“Intelligent?” Thon grumbled, growling softly several times before adding, “The same could be said of your kind. All thin flesh and hardly anything to defend yourself. How your species survived in the wilds of your homeworld is a mystery I have pondered for years.”

“I am sorry, Master Thon,” Gaiel said quickly, bowing as he addressed the Jedi Master. “My companion does not yet grasp the concept of manners. Please excuse him.”

Thon shook his head slowly. “It is quite all right. Anngh. It has been quite some time since I have received new travelers in my home. Tell me, who are you?”

“I am Gaiel Remus, and this is Raen Benax. We are Jedi, and we have come to seek aid and training from you, Master Thon.”

Thon’s eyes lit up. “Training? Nrghh. It has been many years since I have taken on a pupil… little Vima was my last student.”

“Vima? Vima Sunrider?” Gaiel interrupted.

“The very one,” Thon answered.

“Who’s Vima?” Raen whispered to Gaiel.

“Vima Sunrider is the Grand Master of the Jedi Order. She leads all the Jedi from the Jedi Temple at Coruscant, and she has led our Order since the death of her mother, Nomi,” Gaiel answered in an equally quiet whisper.

“It is as young Gaiel says,” Thon spoke up. “Vima Sunrider is now Lady Sunrider… it has been many years since I have taught Jedi. What brings you two Jedi here? Surely there are other Jedi Masters who you can train under.”

“But none as long-lived and wise as you,” Gaiel said, bowing again.

“Mr-grah. Keep your compliments. For every five students, there is one who tastes the dark side, and two more who fall. I am no longer able to train Jedi. A watchful eye I can keep, but my own stamina is beginning to fail me. The Force is infinite in power, but my body is not.”

“What would you have us do?” Gaiel asked, disappointed at the news.

Thon thought for a moment. “I will not train you, but those who still visit and tend to me, Jasparan and Northeus, are more than able to strength you and tend to your studies. They learned from my students, and thus have retained some of my knowledge and skills.”

“Very well,” Gaiel said. “Where would you have us go?”

“Nrghh. Jasparan has set up several mattresses in the foyer for guests to sleep on. You may use those for as long as you are staying here. We will begin your training in the morning.”

***                                                                                                                  ***

“Raen! Raen! Get up.”

The young Force-sensitive stirred in his bed, but quickly returned to his slumber. The voice repeated itself, fiercely. Raen opened his eyes and, for a moment, forgot where he was. It took several seconds to remember that he was resting in Thon’s lodging, on the small mattress set aside for him. It was too small to fit his entire body, but it was still a bed, and for that he was grateful. Now, rising to his feet, he eyed Jasparan, the source of the voice that had awoken him.

“What is it, Jasparan?” Raen grumbled, still half asleep.

“It’s time for your training to begin,” the old man said.

“Where’s Thon?”

“He’s not going to be testing you. He’ll watch, but I’ll be the one to evaluate your abilities.”

“And Gaiel?”

“He’ll begin in due time. For now, join me outside.”

Jasparan stepped outside of the hut, staff in hand, while Raen was left to collect himself. He straightened his robes and put on his boots; he almost considered putting his cloak back on, but he remembered Ambria’s uncomfortable heat and decided against it. Grabbing his lightsaber, just in case, Raen rose entirely and followed the old man outside.

Thon and Jasparan were waiting for Raen to arrive. Thon had seated himself on a rocky perch about ten meters from the entrance to his home, while Jasparan was standing near Raen. The brisk morning air crept up on Raen, and he was surprised that the heat he had been used to yesterday had not arrived. The sun had not yet risen, and small torches lit up the area around Thon’s building.

“So, what are we doing, Jasparan?”

The old man struck Raen with his staff, causing the young Force-sensitive to recoil and nearly strike back. “You will address me as ‘teacher’ or ‘master’, boy,” Jasparan said with a surprising firmness in his voice. “At least as long as I am your better – which will be for some time. Come, if you want to hit me, do so with your lightsaber. We shall test your combat skills.”

Raen stared at the old man before him. ''He must be kidding. '' If Raen attacked Jasparan, the old man would be on the ground in seconds. He could not even sense the old man in the Force, so his connection to the Force must have been minimal at best. He did have some skill, as Raen and Gaiel witnessed when he was ambushed by pirates yesterday, but any Force-sensitive could hold his own against a few lowlife criminals.

Raen hesitantly withdrew his lightsaber and activated it, its blue blade shimmering brightly in the dim light. His free hand reached for the hilt in an attempt to weaken the blade’s strength, so when he cut the old man, the lustrous blade would not sever his flesh. However, Jasparan shook his head before bringing his cane to level with his chest.

“Leave your lightsaber’s power as is,” Jasparan commanded.

“If I do that, I’ll cut off your limbs,” Raen noted.

“No,” Jasparan mused, with a glimmer in his eye. “You won’t.”

Raen sighed. He might as well end this sorry display quickly. Charging toward Jasparan, lightsaber in hand, he aimed for the old man’s cane. The old man gasped as he repositioned the feeble stick in between himself and Raen’s weapon. The lightsaber came down in a powerful overhead swing, smashing against the wooden cane. Raen smiled. They had finished.

But the staff remained intact. In fact, Raen’s lightsaber was repulsed on contact. Impossible! How could that bit of wood withstand his lightsaber? It was impossible. Raen found himself defenseless when his weapon was deflected, and Jasparan countered with equal ferocity. The old man struck Raen’s weapon arm with his staff, and then swatted his opponent’s hand, causing the young Force-sensitive to drop his lightsaber. Defenseless, Raen threw his arms up to defend his chest from Jasparan’s cane. Jasparan’s cane made due with hitting Raen’s vulnerable forearms. As Raen’s arms began to bleed, he pulled them away, startled at the power the old man could summon. Two hits to the chest knocked Raen off his feet and into the dirt below.

“Master Thon! The boy is hardly a Padawan; he has no proper training to speak of, and his arrogance weakens him even more. I think we should send this one to Coruscant and let some other Masters teach him how to handle a lightsaber before we bother with him,” Jasparan said.

“Mnnah. Who trained you? Who was your Master?” Thon asked, stepping from his pedestal in the distance.

Raen hadn’t heard the question. When Jasparan turned his back to address the old Jedi Master, Raen had used the Force to recover his lightsaber. His arms, bleeding and in pain, could hardly support the weight of his light weapon, but he ignored their pleas to stop. Rising to his feet, he struck at Jasparan, hoping to wound him for insulting his skill with a lightsaber. However, Jasparan sensed the boy’s attack, and he used the Force to whip up dirt to blind Raen, causing him to miss the old man entirely. With another flick of his wrist, Jasparan telepathically pushed Raen to the ground.

“He is certainly persistent,” Thon noted.

“A persistent fool, perhaps,” Jasparan spat. “Only a coward attacks his opponents from behind.”

“Who was your Master?” Thon asked again.

“I… I had no Master,” Raen hissed.

“Rhh. Impossible,” Thon said. “Despite what Jasparan says, you have some skill with a blade, and your Force power is impressive for your age. Who trained you?”

“The Sith trained me,” Raen murmured.

Jasparan’s eyes suddenly lit up. “A Sith? The Nautolan brought us a Sith to train? What nonsense is this? Master, I should take off his head and be done with it.”

“Rrgh. Peace, Jasparan,” Thon growled. “The boy is of no threat to us, and Gaiel is a true Jedi. This one was brought here so he could be turned away from the darkness, not denied by the light. You will continue to train him.”

Jasparan turned to the old Jedi. “But Master Thon-”

A quick growl from Thon silenced the old man. Bowing his head, Jasparan returned inside, still fuming at the thought of Raen’s presence. Thon slowly trudged over to Raen and, once he was standing over the beaten Force-sensitive, used the Force to release a healing mist that blanketed Raen’s body. This wave of energy healed Raen’s arms by closing the cuts and bruises he acquired from Jasparan’s weapon. In seconds, he felt strong enough to stand on his own again.

“Do you want to remain here and learn from me, Raen Benax?” Thon asked. “If you do not, I will not stop you from leaving.”

Raen was silent for a moment. “Would you tell Gaiel?”

“That would be up to you. It is not my place to impose upon your actions. What is your answer?”

“Let me think about it,” Raen admitted.

With a low grunt, Thon nodded and returned to his hut, leaving Raen alone outside. As the sun rose over the mountains in the west, Raen pondered his next course of action. He could leave Gaiel behind here, abandoning him and the Jedi –and their judgment – by escaping to Alderaan. He still had to extract his revenge, after all. However, it was likely that the Jedi would try and track him down. Gaiel and Jasparan could best him in lightsaber combat. It was not impossible, then, for other Jedi to defeat him. If he was cornered, he’d be brought to Coruscant as a prisoner, and his sentence would be harsher than before.

While he was still thinking, voice called out from the distance. “Raen Benax?”

Turning to the east, Raen saw a Miraluka run up to him, nearly throwing his arms around him. However, some quick thinking on Raen’s part and the sudden hesitation of the Miraluka kept that from happening. The Miraluka looked familiar, but Raen couldn’t put his finger on his identity; he kept his hand on his own lightsaber, just in case. A hood shielded the Miraluka’s white hair – with dyed red streaks – from the rising sun, and a green shroud covered the place where his eyes would have been. He was dressed in matching green Jedi robes covered in dust, and he had a lightsaber on his belt.

“Have we met?” Raen finally asked.

The Miraluka’s jaw dropped. “Have we… have we met? Raen? You wound me!” he said, clutching his chest with his frail, tanned fingers. “Raen! It’s me! Ranval! We met on Taris!”

This time, it was Raen’s jaw that dropped. “Ranval? Is that really you?”

“I’d sure like to hope so. Otherwise, this is a dream, and – no offense to you – I hope I’m not dreaming about you,” Ranval chortled.

“How are you here?” Raen asked.

Ranval smiled. “The Sith almost got me back on Taris, but I pulled through. I left after you did, and I got lucky too. Turns out, those Sith bombed the planet to dust after I left.”

“What about Donnel? Selias?”

The Miraluka’s head dropped. “To be honest, I lost contact with them after I left Taris. Sorry, Raen.”

Raen didn’t say anything for a moment, lost in thought. After a brief moment of silence, he poked Ranval in the chest. “Well, what are you doing here, then? Dressed like a Jedi?”

Ranval scoffed. “Dressed like a Jedi? Raen, please. I thought you of all people, Mr. Bigshot Jedi, would recognize an actual Jedi when he saw one.”

Raen shook his head. “You’re a Jedi?”

“A Jedi Padawan, to be specific,” another voice said.

A second individual, this one Human, came up beside Ranval. Dressed in brown Jedi robes and wearing a cloak with its hood pulled over his head, only the lower face of this second Jedi was visible. He was a bit taller than Ranval and Raen, and he seemed to be quite older than them both. The Jedi triedo to hide them, but Raen saw two lightsabers resting on his belt.

“Raen, this is Master Northeus Ulsan. He is my Jedi Master and trainer,” Ranval introduced the second figure.

“A pleasure, young Jedi,” Northeus bowed.

Raen bowed as well, albeit hesitantly.

“You may continue your conversation inside, Padawan,” Northeus continued, now addressing Ranval. “We should consult with Master Thon about our next assignment.”

“Of course, Master,” Ranval said. “Since you’re here, you should join us for a moment, Raen.”

“I suppose I will,” the young Force-sensitive said. “I’ll follow you – I’m sure you’re being expected.”

***                                                                                                                  ***

“Anghh. It is good that you are all here,” Thon said, speaking to all the Jedi – now assembled in the main chamber – gathered in his home. “Northeus, you will act on my behalf, training each of these Jedi in the manner I have instructed you, particularly your own Padawan and Jasparan. In the meanwhile, Ranval and Gaiel and Jasparan and Raen will spar with each other, honing their lightsaber skills when not perfecting their Force techniques. Every two weeks, you rotate sparring partners as you wish.”

Raen turned to Gaiel: “How long are we going to be here?” he whispered.

“As long as it’s necessary,” the Nautolan shot back in a hoarse whisper.

“After several months, each of you will fight each other in a training match, and he and I will gauge your progress,” Thon continued. “If we deem you are prepared, we will begin to teach you the nuances of a particular form – any form of lightsaber combat you wish – so you may specialize in your own style. In the meanwhile, your Force powers will be growing steadily and your connection to the Force will increase. Do any of you have any questions?”

None of the Jedi said a word.

Master Thon nodded. “Then your training shall begin, effective immediately. Hrmgh. I expect all trainees to be outside in ten minutes with lightsabers in hand.”