Star Wars - 'The Sandtrooper's Story' - an unfinished WIP

[BlackFalcon1138]

The Sandtrooper’s Story
Chapter 13 – Thoughts from a Moisture Farmer’s Wife



Vader closed the file from the Inspection Team.
Tyrell and all others from Zeta Squad except one had been killed. The sole survivor of the unit, TK-1023 - Davin Felth, was still on-planet with the newly formed 104th. The missing plans had been carried overland by maintenance and protocol ‘droids. Somehow, they managed to deliver them to Obi-Wan, who had escaped Tatooine with them and a young moisture farmer named Luke.

Luke.

That was the name he had heard Padme utter in his vision.
He had seen Obi-Wan holding an infant. What did it mean? His child had died along with Padme. Who was this Luke? It was all very unclear, and quite unsettling.

What was clear to him now was why the traitorous princess from Alderaan had traveled to Tatooine. She sought the help of the hidden and exiled Jedi Knight and former General of the Republic Army. When the Devastator followed her ship through hyperspace from Scarif, and her scheme for a personal visit and appeal to Obi-Wan for help fell apart, she had entrusted the future of the Rebellion with two service ‘droids.

Her need to reach him must have been fierce and desperate to re-claim his expertise from seclusion into service once again. That must have been vividly conveyed by the ‘droids for him to leave the sanctuary that had protected him all these years.

He must have sensed the urgent need to see the plans delivered to the Rebellion. But, if there was such a dire and urgent need to get off world with the plans, why would he have bothered to bring along a young farmhand? Anakin had seen his master’s dislike for pathetic lifeforms many times on their missions together. In any event, he was near; of that he was certain. All these years spent thinking he had been robbed of dispatching Obi-Wan, and now that act he had dreamed of so many times was now close at hand.

The silence of his open meditation chamber was interrupted by sporadic reports on the communication channel he had left open. He had been scanning helmet communications for any indication that the passengers of the Millennium Falcon had been located.

He wished members of the 501st were still onboard the station, but with its completion, they had been reassigned. Even though his personal group was not present, the station’s troops would find them, it was just a matter of time.

“Base, we’re entering detention block AA-23 to inspect camera malfunctions and reports of a reactor leak.”

“Copy that.”

The information was followed by a short burst of static from the helmet of the reporting trooper, then silence as the Dark Lord pondered Obi-Wan’s involvement, and the pathetic lifeform he had dragged along. The silence was again broken by a short flurry of communications over the comm.

“We’re taking heavy fire . . . Watch out! . . . Step over him and get out there! Send more troops, we’ve got them cornered, they’ve retreated down one of the cell bays.”

Vader turned his helmeted head toward the comm as he listened, “More troops dispatched to your location.”

“Watch it, they’re good. Several officers down, send med ‘droids. Wait. The firing’s stopped. ‘Lotta smoke in here, switch to infrared and thermal imaging. Advance. Check all the cells.”

“The princess’ cell door is open and she’s gone. Wait, what the?? They blew a hole in the hatch covering. Oh, what a smell, it’s the garbage chute to the economy level . . . the trash compactors.”

Vader keyed in the location on a small console, bringing up the spot on a schematic of the station. He noted the location of Leia’s cell and accessed the grid for the economy unit assigned to that bay. The screen flickered and then returned a number, 3263827. He opened the scheduling screen for the trash compactor and keyed the comm, “Good work. I will deal with them from here.”

The trooper replied, a bit startled to hear Vader in his headset, “Yes, sir. Recall troops dispatched to the economy level.”

Vader initiated the COMPACT sequence for the unit, a step usually reserved for dumping garbage before high-speed travel on the station, or a hyperspace jump on a Destroyer. The screen flashed an indicator note: COMPACTING. He would soon be done with Obi-Wan, the boy, and the crew of the Millennium Falcon and the plans would once again be under Imperial control. Standing sharply, he exited the chamber, walking across his private room and disappearing into the corridor outside, his cape billowing behind him.

 

*



“Secure this area until the alert is canceled.”

The trooper receiving the order nodded, “Give me regular reports.”

The rest of the group left two troopers standing on a narrow gantry, guarding access to the tractor beam power generators.

“Do you know what’s going on?”

The other shook his head, “Maybe it’s another drill.”

They failed to see the cloaked form of the elderly knight on the opposite side of the generator on a walkway no wider than his feet, high above a deep chasm. His old hands held on firmly to the structure as he deactivated the generator and found his thoughts drifting back over the sea of years to another energy generator . . . to the day he lost his master to the blade of a Sith.

He remembered bursting through the dropped energy barrier to avenge Qui-Gon’s death, and in doing so had decisively stepped into the darkness, embracing the anger and rage that had welled up and uncontrollably poured from him in a blinding flurry of chopping, hacking aggression. In the moment, they had felt right, powerful, and fulfilling.

As he had lived with the memory of those actions over the years, he had come to realize that while Maul was defeated, he had overstepped the line and felt the seductive pull of the dark side. He saw how easily someone could crave more and more of the intoxicating power, as Anakin had, by embracing the dark mantle of Darth Vader.

Methods of communing with Qui-Gon he had taught himself under the Bafforr trees and the Ysalimiri in his training stronghold on Tatooine would serve him well this day. The future was always in motion, but he felt deeply in his core that his ultimate purpose, his meaning, his part in the final correction of his failure, would come as he sacrificed himself so that Luke might escape. While he knew this to be true, it was incredibly dangerous ground. He had lived and felt everything Luke would feel, seeing his master taken from him. A calm came over him as he watched the power level indicator decline steadily toward empty.

He trusted that his own control of the Force would allow him a brief moment to reach and calm Luke enough to allow for his escape. If he could not pass this final Jedi trial, all would be lost.

Luke could very easily wallow in the hate he would most definitely feel for Vader. The memory of a larger than life Jedi father he loved simply for being his father had already been lost to the Dark Lord. Losing the only remaining tie he had to information about that man might be more than he could stand.

I cannot lose him the way I lost Anakin, he thought. I will not.

He drew in a breath, continuing to feel the presence of his former Padawaan. Working his way around the rest of the narrow foot path, he stopped to eye the troopers before making his exit. Motioning with his hand, he called on the Force to move several large crates in the corridor beyond them, creating a distracting sound. They turned toward it to investigate.

“What was that?” asked one of the troops.

Kenobi slipped from his cover and out of sight, completely unnoticed as they looked the other way.

“It’s nothing” said the other trooper guard. “Outgassing, don’t worry about it.”





*




An Imperial aide was walking toward him as Vader neared the compactor cluster on the economy level. “They’ve escaped, mi’ Lord. Only their concealing armor was left behind.”

Vader erupted, shock waves in the Force flinging the officer against the wall. The man fell to the ground grabbing at his throat, gasping for air as the Dark Lord whirled away heading for the turbolifts. He had to make his way to the bay that held the smuggling ship before they did. His old master would not elude him again.

His mind raced as he entered the lift. They’re trying to get the princess and the plans out of here. The lift pod he was riding in raced away toward the docking bay level. When it stopped, he stepped out into the empty hallway. He briskly walked until he could see the Millennium Falcon through the open blast doors ahead. His troops were still guarding the ship.

He had made it in time, but Obi-Wan was very near. The sensation was growing stronger and stronger. He removed the lightsaber from his belt clip and ignited it with a snap-hiss. The hallway was deserted and he stood alone, silently waiting, accompanied only by the scintillating hum of the energy blade held motionless in his grip and the repetitive mechanical breathing that was the legacy of his last encounter with his old master.

It was almost time.






* * *






The last of the large stone pieces was moved aside, and Rogue was finally able to slip through into the dark corridor beyond.

“That’s it. It’s open from here on.”

The others grabbed their buckets and followed as Danz turned back to check on the Moisture farmers. As he walked along, the only sound he heard in the narrow hallway was that of the wailing winds above, and the slight clatter of his boot heels hitting the uneven stony floor. Darklighter and the gathering of kids were sitting on the stone floor, waiting silently for the winds and the destructive flying sand to pass.

Huff glanced over at Danz as the trooper stuck his head around the corner, then looked toward the ceiling of the alcove, “It’s starting to die down a bit now. We won’t be here much longer. It’ll take a short time to find the other graves, but then we’ll bury them and be gone”, he said, indicating the wrapped figures on the floor.

Danz looked from Deak and Windy over to Huff, “Other graves?”

“Owen removed the markers from Cliegg and Shmi’s graves, years ago for some reason. They were his father and step-mother. I remember approximately where they used to be. I promise once we find them we’ll finish up quickly and leave you to your investigation.”

Danz nodded as his electronically-enhanced response issued from his helmet, followed by a short burst of static, “Alright.”

Satisfied, he turned and disappeared down the dark hallway toward the living quarters. Blade and Felth were busy rummaging through the room that had been Luke’s as he walked past, while 0600 and Rogue were poring over the private chambers of Owen and Beru just down the hall.

Danz continued on and joined them while the others tore through Luke’s room. There was a small sleeping area, a small storage area for clothing and a workbench with a stool. Various parts were strewn across the workbench along with flimsies containing design ideas for adding extra thrust to a landspeeder, ‘droid modifications, ‘vaporator schematics, and a partially completed application packet for the Imperial Naval Academy.

Felth was rifling through the storage area as Blade picked up the application, turned it over in his hands, then continued searching, holding on to the flimsies. There did not appear to be a connection to Luke and Ben Kenobi, at least in this room.

0600, Rogue, and Danz were in a similar, albeit larger room and had already strewn the contents of several small containers across a table, along with several items found on the top of a desk tucked back in the corner. It was a small desk, and judging by the manner in which it was neatly kept, it was Beru’s.

Rogue was sorting through the bound flimsies and records as 0600 dumped yet more on the pile before him. Danz joined in, helping to sift through the information, looking for something they could use. As they searched for meaningful information, 0600 returned to the desk, and was pushing one of the empty drawers back in when it jammed, and would not go in the rest of the way.

Kneeling down, he took off his helmet and pulled the drawer back out, and leaned over to look inside the opening. It was dark inside. He reached for his belt, opening a small compartment, retrieving a small black and silver handlamp. He switched it on, shining the beam into the darkness of the desk. There, jammed up against the back was a stack of flimsies, bound in Ronto leather. A narrow strip of the leather was attached to one side of the cover and wrapped several times ‘round to secure it.

0600 reached inside and pulled it out, turning it over in his hands, gently wiping away the fine dust. He switched off the handlamp and returned it to his belt. Then he began unwinding the leather strip, until he was able to open the cover to the first page of faded, aged flimsy. It was written in a woman’s neat handwriting in journal format, although the entries were not dated, and judging from the content, were not recorded every day. The pages revealed insight into the daily lives of these moisture farmers, but 0600 was looking specifically for content of interest, scanning the pages superficially when he happened across mention of “the new arrival” and of Kenobi.

He began to read . . . . .


Our world will never be the same following the events of this day. Living out here in the barren expanses just shy of the Dune Sea has proven an enormous test for my endurance and spirit. Owen works hard to afford us a fine life, even more so after his father’s death, but for a girl from Anchorhead, the absolute isolation is overwhelming at times. Much of my time has been spent keeping our home, feeding and tending to the crops growing in the hydroponic gardens, and having meals prepared and ready when he returns home each evening. I sometimes talk to myself, the droids, and the plants just to hear the sound of a human voice. With Owen out working all day, the silence is suffocating at times.

He’s been on edge ever since our first meeting with Ben. We were told there was nowhere else to turn. Everyone he knew and trusted had been killed or was missing, and he urgently needed help to protect an infant, to protect a new hope for the future . . . our help. He said he would return soon with the child, the son of Owen’s dead

step-brother, Anakin, and asked that we keep him safe. Although he will never admit it, after all the struggling we’ve endured trying to have one of our own, this new arrival, this little bundle from the stars has rescued Owen and I as much as we have him. At long last, I have a child to raise as my own!

We argued at dinner about the whole arrangement. He knows we are family and are obligated to take the child in. I think it hurts him to know that we were not the first choice. He also knows Kenobi will want to train the boy, teach him all the mystical ways of the Jedi the way he did Anakin. He finished our conversation quite distraught. As we left the homestead entryway and stepped out into the sand, he let go of my hand and walked away to stand at the edge of the pit, staring out into the fiery molten setting of the twin suns. His thoughts were heavy with anger and resentment. He had only met Anakin once. His step brother had lived far away, in the temple, busy following the teachings of his master, only to be killed in the wake of these horrible, turbulent Clone Wars.

It was then that Kenobi appeared, just before dark, slowly riding in over the sand on his Eopie. Owen saw him coming and turned away, searching for a way to do the right thing. The animal settled to the ground near the techdome as I watched. Ben dismounted carefully, carrying the child over to me. I took it from him, unwrapping his covering a bit to see a little face staring up at me. Kenobi smiled and backed away, as if his presence were endangering the child somehow.

The infant’s tiny hand wrapped around my finger tightly as I walked with him to join Owen. Kenobi rode slowly away into the night, looking back several times as if questioning his decision to leave the child behind. I know this baby, Luke, will be safe here. I will keep him safe. I am a simple woman, but I clearly understand the importance of that. Luke Skywalker. There hasn’t been a Skywalker in this house since his grandmother died. I wish that she were still here. I wish that he could have known her, and his own parents. There’s plenty of time to figure out how to deal with that. Tonight I’m just enjoying the innocence of him and the quiet we share.


0600 looked up from the page, “I think I’ve got what we came for.”



* * *

[BlackFalcon1138]

The Sandtrooper’s Story
Chapter 14 – Sacrifice
(Part 1 of 2)


Falker disappeared into an alley that lead to the docking bays, leaving Etz and Topolev standing in the animal corral to watch the activity on the street. One of the Dewbacks nudged Topolev’s shoulder and head. He pushed it away and turned to Etz, “We’ll make a Sandtrooper out of you yet” pointing at the sandy-colored dust now beginning to gather and cling to what had been the stark white Impervium of Etz’s legs.

Engedi Etz looked down, nodding “Looks that way. Who would’ve guessed that a street kid from Corellia would end up a Sandtrooper on Tatooine.”

Topolev turned to him “I’m from Corellia too. What part are you from?”

Etz looked his way momentarily, then back out to the street. “Well, I’m not really from Corellia that I can be sure of, that’s just my earliest memory.” He adjusted the pouches on his belt. “I don’t really remember my parents. If I had to guess, they were probably migrants, traveling planet to planet looking for work, but I don’t really know for sure. There were a lot of kids living on the streets in and around the Naval shipyards, and I guess they figured I’d be OK if they left me behind there.”

Topolev listened as he continued.

“I remember one day several of us watched as a squad of Stormtroopers arrived to oversee the construction of a huge Super Star Destroyer. I couldn’t get the polished look of the troopers in formation out of my head. During their deployment for the construction, I ran errands and helped with equipment and armor repairs. It was enough to earn their trust, and occasionally fresh food and water. By the time I was old enough to enlist, the troopers I had come to know encouraged me to do so, and here I am. What about you?”

Topolev thumbed off the power switch of the E-11 he held and slipped it snugly in its holster, snapping the guard strap firmly in place as he spoke. “My old man was an Army recruiter, so I was pretty much expected to be a soldier. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not something I didn’t want, but the huge boots for me to fill were several generations old by the time I was ready for my turn at doing so. I attended a private military academy until I was old enough to ship out to Carida.”

Etz pulled off his bucket and grinned, “Don’t worry. I won’t hold that against you.”

Topolev pulled off his helmet, breathed in a breath of fresh air and continued. “I went through basic training and was assigned to a security detail at an Imperial prison on Dathomir. After several attempts to transfer out of that boring post, I was finally assigned to Desert Combat training on Dantooine; quite a change from the jungles that surrounded the prison. My armor has never been the same since. I went to clean it once, and an older trooper explained that having dirty armor wasn’t something taught in training, but it showed what you had been through. I haven’t touched it since. On one of my training exercises we worked with Special Ops and pulled off a raid against several spice smugglers. I must have done a good job because they gave me one of their black pauldrons when I headed out to my new post on the Leviathan, where I trained recruits for the next year or so.”

Etz looked over to him. “Sounds pretty solid. How’d you end up here?”

Topolev grabbed a loose saddle strap on one of the Dewbacks and cinched it a bit tighter. “An officer I knew was engaging in, shall we say, ‘inappropriate conduct’ with one of the female trainees. On one of the training missions that we were providing support for, the two of us were arguing about what was going on, and there was an accident. Several trainees were injured and the officer died. Although it was never formally declared my fault, that was the aftertaste that lingered once the investigation concluded.”

He took a deep breath.

“The next thing I knew I was reassigned. I was put on the Leviathan and a few days ago I was told to board a shuttle in the Talus sector. It was the shuttle that brought us all here. If they only knew the favor they were doing me. I always enjoyed my desert assignments.”

Falker reappeared out of the alley and walked up to the other side of the corral wall. “Transponder’s planted. We’ll know exactly where he is and where he goes.”

“Great.” said Etz, pulling on his bucket, “Let’s go find Ddraig and Deckard, and see what they’ve found out from the Hammerhead.



*



Falker, Etz, and Topolev rounded the corner behind us as Ddraig and I sat on several of the discarded intoxicant crates littering the alley listening to the story of Ben Kenobi.

Nadon looked up as the others arrived, but continued his tale, not missing a beat.

“I knew of several places that might possibly work for what he had in mind, but the location we finally decided on was within the wreckage of the B’Omarr starship. One of the cargo bay outriggers that was deeply embedded in the sand seemed to be a perfect location. It would provide the much needed shelter from the suns and winds, and protect the site from the damage inflicted by sandstorms. Aside from being sheltered from the elements, it also afforded Kenobi the necessary mounting points for securing cables and enough expansive area to set up an effective Bafforr tree perimeter. You see, he was creating a training arena, a secure, secret spot from which to impart the knowledge he had gained as a knight in the Jedi Order. The dozen Ysalimiri and their Bafforr tree nutrient hosts were my contribution to the scheme . . .


Nadon and Kenobi climbed over the stone and sand of the slope as they made their way up the hillside, noting the protruding starship thrusters of the ancient, ill-fated B’Omarr starship.

Finally, they reached a slight leveling of the terrain, and stopped a moment to catch their breath. The ever-changing waves of the great Dune Sea lapped at the base of the rocky formations of the Jundland Wastes. Nadon turned away from the amazing view and walked over to the small pile of crumbling ruins they were looking for.

Kenobi followed, and they both stepped up to the remnants of what had been a stone archway, an entrance created long ago by the surviving B’Omarr monks, leading into a primitive shrine where they would meditate.

Nadon crawled over the rubble, moving toward what was once the rear of the small room. “The B’Omarr that survived the crash built this not only as a place to meditate, but a way to protect the entrance to their supplies” he said, lowering his shoulder to a stone slab and pushing with his incredibly strong legs. The block slid to one side, revealing an opening with uneven stone steps leading down into cool darkness.

Kenobi stepped up, put his hand on the edge of the opening, leaned his head inside and looked around asking, “How far down is it?”

Nadon pulled out a handlamp and replied, “Not far”, as he lit it and moved past Ben, beginning the descent.

On any other planet, this carved tunnel might have been damp, but not here. Fine dust rose with every step they took down the narrow stairs, which curved inward and ever down, deeper and deeper beneath the sand of the hillside. Finally, they came to a hollowed out area along the smooth exterior skin of the starship.

Nadon moved to the right, running his hands along the durasteel until he found a small, recessed latch. He pressed it in with his hand, grabbed the center handle, and twisted slightly. Gears could be heard turning within the door, followed by a hollow thunk as the latch released. The door pushed in and slid to the side with a scrape. Nadon turned back to look Ben in the eye, “Welcome to your new temple, Master Jedi”, motioning for Kenobi to enter. He followed Ben through the opening, feeling and tasting a change in the air.

They emerged on a small landing, surrounded by a durasteel railing on the edge of a huge space. Ben stepped up to the rail, wrapped his hands around it, and stared into the stillness of the dim chamber, raising his head to take in the enormous structure they were now inside. To the left, the floor inclined slightly, angling back up toward the surface.

Light streamed through openings in the skin of the starship’s ceiling that was still above ground. A number of the skin panels had ripped off during their fiery descent through the atmosphere and headlong crash into the sand. To the right, the massive bay grew darker and sloped down into the sand where it had come to rest all those years ago after falling from the stars. It was here, in the darker, more protected areas that we would set to work.

The pair turned away from the railing and followed a catwalk to a ladder which we descended to the floor.

“There are several levels of walkways, ledges, and overhead framework and rigging that we could use to place the Bafforr trees and the Ysalimiri on. Each tree location will shield approximately a ten meter sphere around itself. If we space them out correctly, you can have a good sized training room in here with no worry of stirring the Force outside it at all” said Nadon.

Kenobi nodded, looking up to the ceiling as he twisted the hair of his beard, deep in thought. He was seeing himself training young Luke, showing him how to use the Force to balance on the stretched cable as if it were a wide walkway.

He saw a small swarm of remote seekers buzzing around the blindfolded boy, saw him moving through the room, balancing on the wire and wielding his father’s lightsaber to deflect all of the energy bursts like the skilled younglings that were slaughtered with it.

He envisioned Luke meditating and centering himself in the Force enough to control any anger for his father he might have.

“This could work” said the Jedi. “When will the trees and Ysalimiri be ready to bring out here?”

Nadon scratched his arm, “About three months to grow to a size that will begin to afford you the veiling you require.”

Kenobi nodded as Nadon continued, “Come, I have more to show you.” He took Kenobi by the arm, leading him deeper into the wreckage.




* * *



A small squad of troopers hurried through the Death Star hallway searching for the fugitives. Kenobi slipped out of the shadows, feeling the presence of his old Padawaan much stronger now as he watched the troops disappear down the passageway. With a swift motion, he unclipped the lightsaber from his belt, drawing it up as he cautiously looked around. He left it deactivated, but in readiness for the confrontation he knew was soon at hand.

Silently, he hurried along the dimly lit tunnels of the enormous battle station, slipping unnoticed toward the hangar that housed the Millennium Falcon. A deep concentration enveloped the old Jedi Master as he walked, envisioning the escape that Luke and the others must be allowed to make if there was to be any chance of undoing the tragedy of Vader. Centering himself in the Force, he made his way closer and closer to the ship. He was almost there. Perhaps his visions had been incorrect. Perhaps it might be possible to make it off the station alive, to continue the beginnings of Luke’s training on Dagobah with Yoda.

As he rounded the slight curve in the hallway that emptied into the hangar, his visions of that possible future path dissolved as he came upon the still and silent form of Vader, shimmering red saber drawn, waiting for his old master.

Ben stopped, taking in the view of the man that was once his Padawaan, his brother, his friend. The dark Lord began moving slowly toward him. He saw the horrible, grotesque angles of the dark breath screen and helmet that encased the many faces of Anakin Skywalker. Kenobi saw past the protective blackness to the face of the young boy who had raced pods, who had fought alongside him in the Clone Wars.

Nevertheless, that boy had engaged him on Mustafar as an enemy, embracing the dark side of the Force and falling from the grace intended for the chosen one. Obi-Wan reluctantly depressed the activation switch on his lightsaber, remaining perfectly still in his defensive stance, breathing the stale air. He whispered to himself, “I will do what I must.”

“I’ve been waiting for you, Obi-Wan. We meet again at last. The circle is now complete. When I left you, I was but the learner, now I am the Master.”

Kenobi stared at him, hearing the ego of his old padawaan echoing through the deep tones of his new, simulated voice. He had learned nothing. “Only a Master of evil, Darth”, acknowledging the Sith before him. Anakin Skywalker was dead and gone.

Vader, enraged by the comment, lunged at Kenobi, who moved to block the strike. Obi-Wan’s body pulsed from the flow of the Force racing through him, illuminating him, binding him to the knowledge and strength of all those that had gone on before him. He felt every one of their hands on his saber hilt.

The old knight had worked hard over the many years on Tatooine, hiding in the darkness of the wrecked starship, training beneath the Bafforr trees and Ysalimiri that had been intended to shroud the training of Luke. He had fought to remain in top form, knowing that this day would come. He also knew that he needed to toy with Vader, give the illusion of a tired, weak old man; occupy him and his attentions so that Luke might escape unnoticed, allowing the small ripples the boy was beginning to make in the Force to be overlooked by his father.

Ben sensed Luke nearby, and knew that once the guards were distracted, Luke and the others would be clear to board and escape. He felt the presence of Qui-Gon behind him, the large hands of his master gently resting on his shoulders like a proud father. Keep your thoughts centered on the here and now, Obi-Wan. He relaxed, and defended a flurry of slashes from Vader that seared the walls in a shower of sparks as they circled each other.

“Your powers are weak, old man” said Vader, pausing, wishing to continue toying with this feeble old knight a bit longer.

Ben confidently held his ground, eyes locked on the tinted lenses of the black mask, “You can't win, Darth. If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.”

Vader slashed at him again, locking sabers with his former master. Energy flashes illuminated the hallway as the hum of the lightsabers crackled in the silence. “You should not have come back.”

There was a flurry of motions, swords screaming and hissing, protesting the fury with which they were being slammed against the competing energy of the other. Ben and Vader moved toward and then apart from each other, whirling to avoid the deadly blade in their opponent’s hand, switching sides in the hallway. As they did so, the troopers gathered at the entry ramp of the Millennium Falcon noticed the fight and double-timed it around the cargo lift to get a closer view of what was going on.

As he stepped back, noticing the troopers closing in on the other side of the open blast doors to watch the fight, Ben felt a small wave in the Force, deep down beneath the coursing and churning on the surface. It was a very subtle movement. Luke had seen them. He turned his eyes to the hangar, spotting Vader’s son and daughter. His mind flashed over the many years he had spent protecting the boy, keeping watch from just out of sight, in silent agony.

Solo and Chewbacca were helping Leia to safety, and the ‘droids were already boarding. His gaze drifted back to Vader, trusting in the Force that the long-concealed boy would turn the tide, would restore all that had been lost, and would redeem one, if not two damaged knights. The twins would escape to safety.

He closed his eyes, reaching deep into the Force, silently repeating his final warning to Luke and raising his lightsaber up before his face, staring at what remained of Anakin, and silently awaiting his fate.

Vader was not sure what to make of it at first. Then, the anger engulfed him, he was finished with the toying. He was enraged at the man who had turned against the Republic, turned his Padme against him, and left him for dead more than once.

A wide, sweeping arc of red light cut through the air as he swung his saber sharply around, slicing through Obi-Wan at the waist. Kenobi felt no pain, only the explosion of his physical body transforming instantly, merging with the pure, fluid energy of the Force and was immediately overcome with a warm feeling of being home once again. The others that had gone so savagely before him at the hands of the clones welcomed him.

His tattered Jedi robes fluttered for an instant in the air and then fell to the floor, his deactivated lightsaber dropping on top.

Having seen Ben cut down by Vader, Luke screamed “NO!”

The transfixed troopers whirled around at the sound, firing on the group escaping into the Millennium Falcon. Numbed by what he had witnessed, Luke finally raised the E-11 in his hands and returned their fire. He cut through several troopers before they had a chance to retaliate. The others fired back, throwing bright red energy bolts sizzling past him.

Wary of a trick, Vader stepped on the piled fabric of the old man’s cloaks with one of his black boots several times, making sure that he was finally rid of the thorn that was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Solo blasted one of the troopers and yelled to Luke, “C’mon!”

Leia joined in. “C’mon. C’mon. Luke it’s too late!”

Solo screamed at him “Blast the door, kid!”

Luke managed to destroy the blast door control panel, and continued firing as the doors closed, sealing Vader in the hallway beyond, and trapping the remaining troopers in the bay. Solo and the princess retreated up the ramp into the ship under heavy fire as Luke continued to blast away at the troops.

The Living Force was churning wildly with the concentrated energy of the newly received Jedi Master. His life energy was determined and focused to fulfill his one final task, pass his final trial, pass on a final warning. Kenobi had communed with the spirit of Qui-Gon for years during his time on Tatooine, training, meditating, and learning how to remain connected with Luke beyond his own death. All that training converged in this moment of his passing.

Somewhere deep down in his core, Luke felt a momentary calm wash over him, and the unmistakable presence and energy of Obi-Wan was with him as he felt Ben’s instructions echoing in his head.

“RUN Luke, RUN!”

Without thinking, he obeyed, and began his journey toward a deeper understanding of the Force as he ran to the safety of the Millennium Falcon.

Solo and Chewbacca jump-started the cold engines of the Corellian smuggling ship and recklessly lifted off, slipping backwards out of the hangar. Careening around to an attitude of escape, they fired the main engines, blasting away from the station.




* * *



Crossing the voids of space, sweeping worlds the galaxy over, waves of change radiated through the Force from the epicenter onboard the Death Star. For most of the living, there was no indication that anything had changed. Life went on as it always had.

For Force-sensitives throughout the galaxy however, a momentary tugging at their insides was felt as the energy equilibrium was upset followed by a slow, steady calming, just as a disturbance caused by a rock thrown into a still pond eventually ripples back to stillness.

As the wave raced through the galaxy, the tugging sensation washed through a small creature seated in the warm, flickering firelight of a small hut. It grabbed at the cloak around its shoulders with a small, three-fingered hand as thunder rolled overhead and heavy rains poured outside. Eyes that had been held shut in meditation suddenly opened wide in the dim light as the realization of what had happened settled within.



* * *



The Hammerhead stared off past us as if he were watching the events he was relaying unfold before him . . . 

“Having surveyed the darkened areas for constructing the Jedi training area, we moved down to the extreme front of the huge storage bay and stepped through and over a gaping wound in the crumpled skin and twisted frame of the ancient starship to find ourselves in another stony corridor littered with rocks and debris. As we moved further into the depths, the darkness was closing in around us when finally we began to see a faint light from somewhere up ahead. The huge chamber of the starship we had left behind was completely dwarfed by the immense opening we spilled into at the end of the tunnel.

I watched as Kenobi came through behind me and took in the view for the first time. He planted the soles of his seasoned boots on the monolithic stone bridge that spanned a dizzying drop into the darkness below. He placed a hand on the stone wall for balance, and leaned his head back to take in the sheer size of the cavern we were now in. Light filtered down from an opening far up in the hillside somewhere, but the stillness and pressure of the air here was suffocating. As we moved out onto the bridge, we could see several other bridges similar to the one we were standing on, one at the same level, and others at varying heights, both higher and lower.

The starship had impacted into the sand and stone of the hillside and broken through into an enormous underground complex carved from the stone of these caverns . . . .”

“What is this place?” asked Kenobi as his eyes trailed over the intricate carvings in the stone bridges and arches.

“I’m not sure”, replied the Ithorian. I stumbled into it some time ago when I was first exploring the wreckage. However, from what I can make out from the carvings and primitive symbols, whoever it was that built them, they pre-dated even the Tuskens and the Jawas.”

Topolev spoke up as Nadon paused in his narrative. “We’ve seen the wreckage, but haven’t been inside. You’re going to need to take us there and show us everything. We need to see it all and check for more information. It’s all important at this point.”

I nodded. “Exactly what I was thinking. C’mon old timer, we have some exploring to do” and I took the Hammerhead by the arm.

“Rogue and the others have the shuttle. It’ll have to wait until they get back” interjected Ddraig.

I looked over at Etz. “Wanna see if your discovery from earlier works?”

He nodded and stood up. “I’ll go see if I can bring her online, you guys head for the courtyard behind the barracks. I’ll meet you there soon.”

I nodded and began moving Nadon away.

Falker looked at Ddraig. “What discovery?”

Topolev pulled his bucket on as we spilled out onto the street. “You’ll see.”

[BlackFalcon1138]

The Sandtrooper’s Story
Chapter 14 – Sacrifice
(Part 2 of 2)




Etz pulled off his helmet as he hurried through the command center and bunk room into the rear storage area. He grabbed the metal lever, pulled it down and stepped on to the center of the descending lift platform. As it settled to a stop, he stepped off through the open doorway into the underground cache and walked toward the bay doors they had left open. He jumped up onto the rear tailboard, moved forward into the cockpit area and set his bucket down as he looked over the panels of the transport. The controls were a little unusual, but not too far out of the realm of his training. Several switches were flipped, dials adjusted, and then he pressed a rocker switch forward to bring the engines online. He heard a slight clicking sound and a small indicator meter in the panel lit up and flashed, showing that the batteries were depleted.

He jumped off the tailboard and headed back to the other room. Overhead luminaries flickered and came on as he flipped the wall switch. The cannons were still in the way of the equipment racks, so he squeezed between them, looking the supply shelves over for another power cell. His eyes moved quickly over the contents of the racks: rifles, rations, blaster power clips. He bent down to look over the lower shelf.

There was a thick metal slab of some kind, on top of which were more power clips, a few miscellaneous mechanical parts, and finally two larger power cells. Pressing the indicator tab on top of both showed they were at full capacity. As he grabbed them and went to pull them away, the wiring harnesses caught on something, some protrusion from the thick slab on the bottom.

He unwrapped the wires and pulled away the twin cells revealing a hand, thrust up from within the cold metal block. Startled, he fell back across the aisle into the rack behind. He raised himself to one knee and leaned forward to look at his new discovery. The hand was human, but encased within the metal of the slab. He looked left and right, taking note of the size of the slab, then stood quickly and made his way back to the transport to install the new power cell.

Topolev, Ddraig, Falker, and I took our time as we moved Nadon to the courtyard behind our barracks. “Let’s move up here and wait for Etz” I said, leading Nadon up to the loading platform. As we did, the sand began to shake in the open courtyard, vibrating, leveling out.

“What the . . .” said Falker, as a mound of sand began to grow in the middle of the open space before us.

Loose sand slipped away from the center of the rise, sliding down on all sides to reveal the smooth surface of a magnetic shield that was being pushed skyward by something beneath it.

Finally, the upper hull of the transport breeched the magnetic membrane barrier as it pushed through the stretched shield, rising up from our underground hangar bay and slipping into the air. We could hear the hum of the engines as Etz brought her to a still hover above the shield, and the bay doors closed beneath it. “Everybody In.”




*



0600 and Rogue were in the shuttle’s cockpit bringing the engines online as the others filed in and found their seats. Before boarding, Danz walked over to Huff Darklighter. “What were the names of the other dead? The unmarked graves.”

Darklighter was watching as Fixer, Deak, and Windy used sand disrupters to dig deep enough in the sand to properly bury the dead. He spoke without removing his watchful eye from them. “Cliegg and Shmi Lars. They were Owen’s father and step mother.”

Danz nodded and turned to go, then stopped and turned his head back. “What was Shmi’s name before it was Lars?”

Darklighter tensed a bit as he sensed even more danger for his son’s friend Luke than the boy had already managed to find on his own. “Skywalker.”

Danz nodded and moved away toward the shuttle. Huff turned his head slightly, watching the trooper go. What had Luke gotten himself caught up in, he thought to himself. The shuttle ramp stowed as the ship lifted from the sand and throttled away from the farm, leaving the small group of locals and their dead behind.



*



Our troops were well on their way back to Mos Eisley when they were suddenly surrounded by swoop bikers and small speeders. The lead swoop rider motioned for them to set down.

4120 glanced over to Rogue who cautiously said, “Let’s see what they want.” He unbuckled and called down the open ladder hatch into the troop area. “Weapons on and drawn, we’re making an unscheduled stop.”

As he powered on his own weapon, a communication from Topolev came over his helmet comlink. “We’re en route to the B’Omarr starship ruins, just checking in on your current position.”

Rogue responded. “We’ve left the moisture farm and are on course back to Mos Eisley. We’re currently stopping to see what a group of local swoop riders wants with us. Lock into the beacon I’m sending out and head our way. You can catch them off guard just in case things turn sour.”

“Roger that. Beacon received. We’re about five minutes out and throttling up” replied Topolev.

The shuttle settled into the sand and the swoop riders circled around several times, before coming to a stop behind their speeders, several meters from our extending ramp. Rogue climbed down from the cockpit, talking over his shoulder to his pilot as he descended to the troop area. “Keep her idling and warm, just in case.”

4120 replied. “You got it.”

Rogue slipped past the troopers on his way to the ramp with his E-11 drawn as they unbuckled. “0600, Blade come with me. Danz, you and Felth cover us from the ramp.”

Topolev crackled in his headset as he stepped down the ramp. “ETA to your position, 2 minutes.”

He stepped off the ramp with his weapon drawn but lowered. 0600 and Blade followed, flanking him. The lead swoop rider switched off his engine and casually dismounted, slowly crossing the gap to meet Rogue. Several leathery-faced Weequay watched attentively from the speeders, weapons at the ready.

The dirty rider wrapped in layered Ronto leather armor shifted his eyes to the troops on the ramp for a moment, then over to Rogue’s crew. “Jabba the Hutt has been watching you and your men since you arrived. He requests a meeting now, at his palace. We’ve been sent to escort you there.”

As he finished his sentence, our troop transport rose over a dune and slipped in behind the Hutt’s men. Everyone turned to look as Etz allowed the rear of the transport to slide around, exposing Topolev, Falker, Ddraig, and me standing on the tailboard, weapons trained on each of Jabba’s men.

Falker called out. “Everything OK here?”

Rogue locked eyes with the swoop rider, then called back to Falker. “Everything’s fine here. Jabba’s ready to meet us”, he said, looking over to the transport. “I’m surprised it took this long.” He shifted his attention back to the swoop rider. “We’ll follow you. Etz, fall in behind the shuttle.”

He turned to re-enter the shuttle passing by Danz and Felth. “Here we go.”




*



The superheated engines of the Outrider gave up some of their heat to the blistering afternoon winds in rippling, vaporous waves as Dash Rendar released the Rancor’s stun collar from its bulkhead mounting. The dazed, semi-responsive beast slumped to the repulsor sled floating just above the deck beneath it, nearly knocking Dash over. He knelt down and adjusted the settings on the collar to ensure his continued safety. His last-minute decision to take a slight side trip to Corellia had taken longer than he would have liked. By the time Jabba decided he wanted something, he was already impatient for it to be delivered.

He pushed the sled down the extended ramp to the sizzling sand and breathed in the hot air as he scanned the edge of the rugged ‘Wastes’ behind his ship.

He’d spent a great deal of time on this next-to-forgotten planet, but he was always struck by the untamed, stark beauty of the Jundland Wastes. The repulsor sled glided easily over the sand as he maneuvered it up a plate durasteel ramp up to the only one of several large access hatches in the stone wall that had been left open. He knew it led into the lowest level of the maze-like bowels snaking beneath Jabbas palace. He had been through each of these hatches at one point or another over the years making various deliveries.

Far above, at the summit of the nearly vertical cliff face, was the domed turret where the main palace entrance was located.

Rendar paused and looked back over his shoulder as a swarm of small speeders and swoops came rushing up followed by an Imperial shuttle and a larger speeder. The group of ships raced past. The swoops and speeders snaked along the winding path the led toward the summit. The shuttle throttled up and ascended the cliff. Something unusual was up. Rendar shook his head and pushed his delivery inside as the large hatch coarsely ground closed behind him. Nysad, the Kajain’sa’Nikto guard that had opened the hatch, now pressed himself further into the shadows as he passed.

Our transport silently approached the massive durasteel main chamber entry, pulling up behind the shuttle, which had just raised its side wings to the upright position and lowered its extended landing gear into the sand. The swoop riders had dismounted and were awaiting Rogue and the others as the entry ramp began lowering from beneath the jutting cockpit of the elegant ship.

Etz cut the thrusters and we slowed to a halt. Topolev grabbed his helmet, pulling it on as he stepped off the tailboard. “This prototype gets my vote.”

Falker agreed. “Yeah, I’ll take a ride like that any day. I like that it’s open to the air. How does she handle, Etz?”

Engedi climbed out of the pilot’s seat and slipped through the narrow corridor to the open rear section. “It’s Cygnus Spaceworks. Pre Sienar Fleet Systems merger. Older tech, but very smooth, like a cross between the control sticks of a T-16 Skyhopper and a TIE fighter, but with the power of a TIE interceptor.”

I slipped my bucket on and powered up my E-11 and stepped off the rear deck following Etz. “T-16s are nicely powered with twin DCJ-45 repulsorlift engines for liftoff and an impressive Incom E-16/x ion engine for thrust, but they’re definitely no match for the interceptor.”

“Very true Deckard. Very true” said Ddraig, securing Nadon to the floor of the transport with restraints. “Just a precaution, old timer.”

The watchful eyes of Jabba’s men were on us as we circled around the transport heading for the rest of the 104th. The Weequay from the speeder closest to the huge entrance gate was checking in with the weathered sentry ‘droid. The bulbous, lighted eye darted to us and back again, then retracted abruptly into a small portal.

A few moments passed and the massive gate lurched with the shrieking scrape of unlubricated metal on metal as the giant locking teeth of the lower edge disengaged from their recessed receptacles in the ground, and the huge gate was slowly raised.

Under the glare of the twin suns, the cavernous space behind the entrance was primarily in shadow. The imaging sensors in our helmets had not yet activated, and were useless for seeing what lay ahead, as we were still in the light. One of Jabba’s men motioned for us to follow. I stepped between two of the recessed receptacles on the threshold and into the darkness beyond, with the others following. As we moved out of the light, the heads-up displays in our helmets immediately flashed on, revealing what had been hidden inside. We were in an enormous entry hall. It was quite dim, with a high ceiling.

We were herded across the sandswept stone floor toward an archway leading off to the left. Several spider walker ‘droids silently ambled out of our way, each with a clear brain canister hanging below the body, fluid gently sloshing this way and that with a monk’s brain suspended inside. Etz kept a wary eye on them as we passed through a dim shaft of light streaming through an open port near the ceiling.

Our Weequay guide indicated that we should wait behind for a moment, and he stepped ahead to speak with a sentry. He was told that Jabba was not yet ready for the Imperial visitors his men had intercepted. Tatooine was Hutt-controlled, and while he felt his authority was not in question, he was determined to make sure there was no room for doubt. Several minutes passed before one of the guards was notified of Jabba’s readiness for us.

Our escort led us further into the courtyard and through an archway. A pair of Gamorreans stood guard, one on each side of the opening. Stale body odor radiated from their stained, well-worn leather armor as we passed between them to a staircase that lazily spiraled downward.

As we made our way down, a tall male Twi’Lek hurried up the staircase from the bottom to meet with the Weequay leading our group. They spoke in hushed tones, and the Twi’Lek looked our way several times before heading back down the stairs. The Weequay motioned for us to follow, and he pushed his way through the crowded, dim room beyond, clearing a path toward the raised stone dais on which Jabba was lounging.

He was relaxed, smoking his pipe and conversing with several well-known bounty hunters. I recognized the Mandalorian armor of Boba Fett. Dengar Roth, IG-88 (the execution droid), and several other low-life guns for hire all seemed to hover around the crime lord like a group of vultures, perched and waiting for their meal to finally die.

Smoke curled from his flared nostrils as Jabba spoke, “Mel wanta chim en Wookiee, jee Nolata tah da po nikee pa poonoo . . . gee nula sotta.”
(I want him and the Wookiee, but I want them alive . . . I want them to pay for what they’ve done to my business . . . I can’t afford to appear soft.)

I stepped off the bottom step behind the Weequay as did the rest of the group, filling into the space that had been created in the crowd of shadowy onlookers as the Twi’Lek made his way up beside the reclining Hutt. The air was heavy with the thick smell of spice and fragrant smoke.

As we pushed closer we saw what had captivated the rest of the audience. They had all been gathered around a large grate in the floor. As I stepped over it and moved to the front of the Hutt’s stone platform, I saw down into a deep cavern beneath the chamber, a sandy floor about twelve meters below. Several men were removing a collar from a stunned animal. My eyes drifted up from the events below and scanned the faces in the room as the rest of the 104th filed in around me. Minions from several dozen races encircled us.

The Twi’Lek stepped off the dais before us, catching the eye of the beautiful green-skinned female Twi’Lek dancer that sat, feet dangling in front of the mass that was the Hutt. As he passed, he ran a hand lightly over her lekku, making her shudder, eyes closed, repulsed by his touch. She turned away. It was then that I saw a chain connected to the band around her neck, which trailed up to an anchored fitting on the throne.

"Chowbaso!" thundered Jabba.

“Welcome!” echoed the Twi’Lek, glancing back to Jabba, waiting on his next words.

“Kee chai chai cun kuta? Kee madda hodrudda du wundee, della Tatooine.”

“What are you doing here? Tell me why you are here on my planet, on Tatooine?” said the Twi’Lek.

Rogue took a step closer to the Hutt, “We’ve been sent here to reactivate an unsanctioned presence in the city, in Mos Eisley.”

Jabba listened closely.

“We’ve been charged with ensuring the safety of the moisture farmers, their farms, and their crops, especially during the harvest. We fully acknowledge that Tatooine is Hutt-controlled and we have no interest in your business, holdings or dealings, so long as they don’t interfere with our agenda.”

Jabba’s eyes narrowed a bit as he looked us over, “Jobasco tuhn joffa Imperial?”
(So, the Empire is not “officially here?”)

Rogue nodded his head down once, “That is correct.”

Topolev and I were scanning every corner of the room searching for the concealed cameras that had supplied our predecessors with their datacard recordings. Jabba snorted a bit and laughed in a deep, rumbling laugh, “Ho ho ho ho”, and waved a hand at us as he looked away, finished with us . . . and just like that, the conversation had ended.

The Hutt’s attention was now on to his dancing girl, Oola. “Da eitha!” (Sit by me now!)

She cried out, “Na chuba negatorie. Na! Na! Natoota…” (No, No . . . please, no!)

The Hutt’s voice thundered in the small room as we were being led out, “Boscka!”

Topolev looked over to me. I shrugged and kept walking up the stairs toward the grand hallway above. Something didn’t feel right. It was too easy. The Hutt would be watching, that much was certain.

The tall Twi’Lek moved to the center of the room as we left, speaking to Fett and the others. “And now the matter of the reward offered for the, shall we say, disappointment? Bounty hunters, come with me.”

Someone coming down the stairs pushed past me on his way down toward the throne room. It was the human that had been unloading the animal in the pit. I heard him burst into the room, talking to Jabba,
“I’m glad you like him. Yes, he is young, but should grow to a nice size for you in a few years. Malakili seemed happy to finally have something to train. He’s been far too long down there without a pet.”

Jabba laughed deeply and ran his hand down the his dancer’s back, licking his lips as the man continued, “What would you say if I told you I could get you a pleasure ship . . . a luxury sail barge complete with . . .”

The voices of the throne room trailed off and were now overtaken by the sound of our footsteps on the stone stairs as we slowly made our way up to the main hall. Jabba’s men escorted us past the Gamorreans, out through the lengthy entry chamber and just outside the main gate.

One of the guards was waiting for us to pass. As soon as we were all outside in the fading sunslight, he turned and retreated inside with the others as the gate slowly scraped closed. It rumbled down into place, sealing the palace.

We were left standing in front of our ships, with the late afternoon wind blowing. “Where did this come from?” said Rogue as he walked toward the transport.

“Etz found it”, I said.

Topolev joined in, “When we diverted to meet you, we were on our way to follow up on a lead from information supplied by Nadon. There’s something we all need to check out. A possible lead for more information about Ben Kenobi, at the B’Omarr starship wreckage.”

Rogue looked back at him, then over to 4120 and 0600.

Topolev continued, “It seems our outcast Jedi was working on a scheme to secretly train new Jedi.”




* * *

[BlackFalcon1138]

The Sandtrooper’s Story
Chapter 15 – Tatooine Haunts



A small, furry Jawa hand gently closed around the grip of her Ion blaster. She was on her own, scavenging for another three days until the ‘crawler came by and she needed this food. Breathing slowly and steadily, she took aim at the gathering of desert scurriers in the shadows ahead. When the majority of the little creatures were in range, she gently tapped the trigger and a blue haze of energy was flung out of the muzzle, washing over them.

Five of the nine fell to the ground dead. The remaining four, which had been shielded by the others, ran away and hid. Smoke rose from the less fortunate ones as she came out from behind her rock, holstering the blaster and muttering to herself as she set to collecting her dinner, dropping them one by one into a small sack.

As she did, the rock beside her popped several times. Fragments of stone and sparks showered her, immediately followed by the report of a rifle. Cursing in her native tongue, she dove back behind the rock, rolling into the sand. Sandpeople, she thought to herself. Her hearts were beating hard now as she rolled over and crawled forward to get a look at where the fire was coming from. Glowing eyes peered out from beneath the darkness of her hood as she scanned the top of the cliff where it met the darkening sky.

Nothing.

She scrutinized the ridgeline again, and this time caught some brief movement where the rocks met the sky. A tusken raider poked its spiked head up as she watched, the reddish-orange sunlight glinting off one of the metal eyepieces. The tusken slowly moved its’ rifle back and forth over the stone, staring through the sight and taking aim on her general area as it sought to find her again among the rocks. A second tusken beside him watched as he fired two shots, which ricocheted in a shower of sparks and debris on the stone above her.

He grunted, working to get a better firing angle, leaning out over the edge of the rock . . . and right into the center of Danz’ targeting reticle. The seasoned Sandtrooper watched as the raider moved its’ head squarely in to the center of his sight imaging. He gently squeezed back on the trigger of his rifle, releasing a bolt of energy which burst through its’ head. The second raider jumped, roaring one final time in surprise. Immediately there was a second blast, and he slumped face first across the flat rock on the ridge.

The little Jawa cautiously raised herself to her knees, freshly-caught dinner in hand, peering from behind her rock. She looked over to where the blast had come from. A kneeling stormtrooper was rising to his feet, powering off his rifle and slinging it over his shoulder as he disappeared up the boarding ramp of an Imperial shuttle. Her eyes glowed brighter as she instantly daydreamed of stripping and salvaging the beautiful ship. She came back to reality as she remembered that she was alive because of its owner.

A moment later, Danz reappeared, emerging from within the ship with illuminators to mark their descending path into the caverns beneath the hillside. The hatch to the ship closed as he moved away, starting back up the cliff toward the tiny B’Omarr shrine. The little Jawa clutched her bag of food and scampered off toward a small cave to prepare her meal, glancing over her shoulder once or twice to make sure no more Tuskens were watching, and to have another longing look at the shuttle.




*



The air in the depths of the ancient wreckage was completely still. Light filtered in from ripped openings in the hull far above. As Ddraig stepped off the last rung of a durasteel ladder to the floor, Nadon turned and continued to lead us further along the gentle slope into the darkness. He took several steps beyond the light, and just as my thermal imaging kicked in, I heard a woooshing sound fly past me on the left, then on the right. I jerked in reaction, looking to see what it was, and began to notice a faint glow in the room - a glow emanating from a dozen points around us. Nadon was still ahead of us, with his arms raised up, hands open and extended, and silhouetted by the glow coming from . . . trees.

I stepped further into the room and pulled off my bucket, as did the others, taking in what we were seeing a little clearer. As I lowered the helmet away from my face, several more woooshing sounds flew past me and disappeared into the darkness. The glow from the trees steadily grew brighter until we could clearly see that the glow came not from the trees, but from small creatures clinging to their trunks. The arrangement of trees was circular around the floor of the room, and arranged at evenly spaced intervals up the walls and across the catwalks near the roof. At their bases, were large watering basins filled with the roots and sealed around the bottom of the trunks to prevent moisture from escaping.

Cables crossed the room above us, side to side at varying heights – stretched tight. Nadon stood in front of a small bench with a coil of cable on the lower shelf, and a several small items strewn across the top. Danz came walking up behind us, and dropped an illuminator to the ground next to several medium sizd storage crates as he pulled off his own helmet.

Nadon, with eyes closed in concentration, lowered his hands and laid them out flat in the air, spreading his long fingers just above the surface of the bench. As he did, the woooshing sounds streaked past us and a half dozen remote seekers flew in from the recesses of the darkness, silently whisking past and coming to hover just above the Ithorian’s hands, rotating ever so slightly.

Nadon opened his eyes and turned to us, gesturing with his arm, “Ben Kenobi’s Jedi training arena.”





* * *





Vader lay on a cold table. His entire body flinched, and he reflexively closed his mechanical hand tightly around the rail along the table’s edge as the med ‘droid raised the control box away from the front of the bio suit, slipping the electrodes and tubes abruptly out of his chest. It immediately inserted a temporary replacement breather unit into his damaged lungs as the malfunctioning control box was taken away.

The flesh around the insertion site burned in the cool air. His glorious, seething power, his ability to wield the dark side and bend it to his will as he had enjoyed on Coruscant and Mustafar was now as illusive and impotent as seeds scattered in the hot Tatooine winds of his youth. While he was still the most powerful of the Sith Lords to date, the chosen one would never realize the true depth of his abilities, never indulge in the intoxicating, sweet syrup of ultimate power he had but tasted.

While his Force abilities had been heightened and sharpened as a result of his injuries, the ability to channel it and command his cybernetic limbs, as he would have living tissue, was a constant struggle. Mastery over his new limbs, and pushing them beyond their calculated operating parameters required incredible focus, and routinely resulted in the need for painful re-fittings that were little more than recurring reminders of the now-distant pain that drove him to the darkness. Reminders of that horrible, cold fear.

He gasped as the ‘droid coldly removed the temporary unit and slipped the tubes of a new control unit deep into the spongy flesh of his lungs. His teeth clenched tight and eyes squeezed shut beneath the hard, dark angles of his mask as he fought to escape the searing pain. Reaching into the energy of the Force, he wrapped himself in dark side energy as the ‘droid secured the bindings and sealed the edges of the entry site into his skin with infection resistant adhesives. The pain began to dissipate, and he regained his focus on the duties that now lay ahead.

The Millennium Falcon had been allowed to leave with a transponder hidden onboard. When they slipped out of hyperspace, a trace marker would send back their position and they would be instantly located, Tarkin would see. Obi-Wan’s death had not secured the safety of Bail Organa’s daughter as he had hoped. The Princess and her rescuers might have made off with the plans, but as soon as the Death Star was in position, that insignificant Rebellion would be eliminated, and the age-old Alderaanian cries for a return to democracy would finally be silenced, as the last of her royal house was snuffed out. The old man had died in vain. He should not have come back.





* * *





Nadon sat on one of the storage crates watching, as a blindfolded Obi Wan balanced on one of the cables high above the arena floor. Four seekers whizzed past and around him firing random blasts as they flitted about. The blue flash of his lightsaber moved at blurring speed, deflecting the blasts away as he continued his walk across the taut wire.

“There must be a way!” said the Ithorian.

One of the seekers abruptly slammed into the ankle of Obi-Wan’s boot, knocking it clear off the cable. His weight-shifting recovery was immediate, maintaining his balance with the remaining planted foot, “Blast!”

He lowered the lightsaber in front of his body, deflecting several bolts as the ramming seeker circled the room preparing to dive toward his one remaining planted foot. Kenobi reflexively raised the crate Nadon was seated on from the floor below as it streaked toward him. The Ithorian grabbed on to the sides to keep from falling off, as the crate flew up between the Jedi and the seeker. The small orb slammed into the side of the crate and fell away to the sand below.

Kenobi deactivated his blade and removed his blindfold, maintaining a firm Force-hold on the crate. He clipped his saber hilt back on his belt as he returned the displaced foot to the cable, and gently lowered the startled Nadon back to the floor. The remaining seekers whisked away from him and regrouped just above the bench on the ground below.

As the crate settled back to the sand, Nadon slipped off and moved away. Kenobi jumped off the wire into a backflip and landed with a spray of sand on the ground nearby.

With a distressed look on his face, and blindfold in hand he turned to Nadon, “I cannot force Owen to comply. I know the need for Luke’s training, but I will not revisit the paths of my failure . . . I cannot do that with him. I tried to deliver Anakin’s lightsaber to Luke once before and Owen wouldn’t hear of it. He has the boy thinking his father was a navigator on some spice freighter. When the time is right, and the will of the Force has revealed itself, I will be waiting to uncover more information about his father.”

The Hammerhead closed his eyes, and exhaled, “Dangerous this course of action is.”

Obi-Wan turned to face the exiled high priest, his smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes, “You sound very much like an old friend. Point taken. However, the information I reveal to the boy will be that of a very specific, certain point of view. Timing of the revelation is critical. He needs to know that his father was an incredible pilot, and a Jedi Knight who fought alongside me during the Clone Wars . . . that his father was deceived and destroyed by the dark side . . . by Darth Vader. Revenge is not a Jedi trait, but hopefully this will serve to fuel his desire to train and fight against Vader and the Emperor. He doesn’t yet need to know that his father still lives.”

Obi Wan stared off into the darkness. “The pain of that revelation is one that must be handled very delicately.” Closing his eyes, he saw images of his dying master, Qui-Gon, and remembered defeating Darth Maul in the duel that followed. He had stepped dangerously across into the darkness, allowing his anger to flow. He lowered his head, ashamed at the memory. “Any trust Luke may have in me could be shattered. Unless he is prepared properly to deal with the darkness that lies within us all, everything could be lost.”




* * *




We all stepped closer, into the warm, amber glow. Topolev moved into the middle of the arena floor and looked up as the rest of us followed, fanning out to take in the makeshift Jedi Academy. He leaned over to Nadon as he stared up into the trees, “Ysalimari?”

The Ithorian nodded at Topolev and kept walking, “Yes, to shield the ripples in the Force that training would have created.”

We had all heard the stories of the secretive Jedi ways, the training facilities within the Temple, and the rigorous demands involved in mastering control of that flowing energy field that all living things created.

On top of the waist-high bench were tools from various worlds, a small thermal blast furnace, dirtied abrasive polishing cloths, and several tubular devices of varying sizes laid out on a draped cloth. Danz moved past me, dropping another illuminator into the sand as he stepped beneath the stretched cables overhead. I reached out and picked up the smallest device, rolling it over in my hand, wiping off a fine layer of dust. It was very simple, and I believe had originally been part of a thrust sequencing unit from a small ship. Somehow, though, I didn’t think it would ever see service as a thrust sequencer again.

One end was now sealed with a cap. The length of the shaft had been fitted with a series of traction grips, and a button was set into the handle. What appeared to be the business end of the device culminated in a small concave dish, with an emitter of some type mounted down inside. I held it out upright before me and pressed the button. As the button made contact with the internal components, I felt a subtle, shuddering vibration in the palm of my hand as a shimmering blue blade sprang up from the emitter, extending to a length of about 2 feet.

The others whirled around to see what I had found, the blue light dancing in highlights across their armor. The coursing feel of the energy rippling from the handle was familiar.

The abbreviated blade length was puzzling. I knew lightsabers, but never with a blade so short. I swept the blade back and forth, the low, rumbling static humming as I did so.

Nadon stepped over to me as the others gathered around. “Training sabers. Ben built these for training Jedi of all ages.” He reached for the saber, and I released it to him. “They’re strong enough to deflect a low grade energy burst, but weak enough to only deliver a mild burning sensation” and he swiped the blade across his free arm, with no damage.

“Full intensity blades would not be a good idea for training younglings” he said, as he snapped off the lightsaber. He placed the hilt back on the bench as his hands drifted over the others. “There are several here of varying sizes and diameters, to accommodate the growth of the child’s hand and increasing ability levels. All of these are training sabers. The student, or Padawaan, as the Jedi call them, must ultimately build their own lightsaber after passing their trials, as one last symbol of attaining their full Jedi Knight status. That’s what the little blast furnace was for, cooking and refining the Kyber crystals to a pure enough state for use in building these.”

Felth stepped closer to the table, his eyes moving across the bench, taking note of the number of sabers laid out across the cloth. Rogue picked up several small square devices from the benchtop, “Holoprojectors?”

Nadon nodded, blinking his tired eyes, “He created holographic images of himself moving through classic fighting styles to use as a training tool for the Padawaans. As it turns out, Ben was the only one who ever used this place.”

Felth looked up, “You mean no Jedi were trained here?”

Nadon nodded again, “That’s correct.”

The trooper looked annoyed, “You expect us to believe that this old guy was hiding out here since the Old Republic fell and he never trained a single Jedi?”

The Ithorian refugee stared back at him and replied, “Yes, that’s correct. It was his intention to be a beacon, and to build a safe haven to any surviving Jedi or possible Jedi candidates, but the rapidly growing influence of the Empire and the fear of repercussions kept anyone from ever coming forward.

After several years, he resigned himself to the fact that even if there were others of his Order out there, their paths were unlikely to cross. He used this facility to meditate and keep himself active, but it was never used for instruction, as its design was intended. The galaxy eventually came to realize that the Jedi had not abandoned them, but had in fact been the first victims of deception, destroyed by the Emperor because they stood in his way. By the time that realization occurred, there were no Jedi left.”

Felth flipped on the power switch on his E-11 and drew his blaster, pointing it at the Hammerhead, “I should kill you right here for that kind of treasonous talk.”

It was a fantastic show, completely fabricated to show a loyalty to the Empire that Felth no longer possessed. The Ithorian stared blankly back at the trooper without flinching, “I am old, and no threat to you. My death will not serve the Empire, but if that is my fate, kill me.”

Rogue put a hand on the muzzle of Felth’s blaster, lowering it. “That won’t be necessary, trooper.” He had killed more Ithorians on Belliran V than he cared to remember, and didn’t need the blood of another on his hands. “I have searched the holonet databases searching for a “Ben Kenobi” since we learned his name, and have turned up nothing of interest except Kenobi Freightways, headquartered on Bakura. What is this Jedi’s true name?”

Nadon paused. He knew Kenobi was dead, he had felt the passing and his connection with Kenobi shift as his friend had become one with the Force. “You will find record of him as General Obi-Wan Kenobi.”




* * *



Two of the three silvery moons orbiting the planet now illuminated the sands under a gleaming canopy of stars as Rogue closed the cover on his holonet field pack. The findings of our search to date had successfully transmitted. Everything we had uncovered about the old Jedi, BoShek, Momaw Nadon, the Lars’, and Luke Skywalker was now waiting for the Dark Lord’s review.

Vader needed to be kept abreast of the unfolding search and any new findings about Ben (Obi-Wan) Kenobi. The smallest detail might seem insignificant, but could prove monumental in the recovery of the stolen data and the apprehension of the last Jedi and his apprentice. While it was of top importance, we still needed more detailed information about this Jedi Training Arena before it was officially reported.

The chilled night was a sharp contrast to the blasting heat of the day. Rogue reclined back against the rock behind him and breathed in the cool air as his black thermal body glove kicked in beneath the plating of his armor, sensing a dip in skin temperature. It was now warming him using energy captured from the twin suns.

The trip back to Mos Eisley would be a long one, and he was tired from the events of the long day. They had the meeting with the moisture farmers in the morning, and being around the Hammerhead unnerved him quite a bit . . . too many memories of Belliran V, but he decided they would camp here for the night.





* * *

[BlackFalcon1138]

The Sandtrooper’s Story
Chapter 16 – Chasms and Trenches


Data-intensive status reports rapidly scrolled past on several large illuminated screens, but Wilhuff Tarkin sat swiveled ‘round, staring out the large portal behind his desk; his face coldly emotionless. His thoughts were not of his precious statistics, but of the power he had now managed to bring under his control; the power to wipe planets from the heavens if they dared resist the Emperor. He had worked long and hard to finally be in a position to see this new chapter of Imperial history unfold around him. Many had died to bring this station and his new command to life, although not nearly enough of those dirty Wookiees, he thought. It had been a long, unpleasant journey with Orson Krennic under his command, but at last he was finally freed of that particular thorn in his side.

The silent, hypnotic vortex of hyperspace slipped silently past the viewports as the Death Star advanced on the Yavin system. Vader’s little plan had worked. He had successfully located the Millennium Falcon and set course for the planet’s fourth moon. Propelled by its class 4 hyperdrive engines, the station had left the debris field that had once been Alderaan in its wake, slipped silently past Phindar, and was now bearing down on the giant gas planet of Yavin. They would orbit the planet at maximum sub-light speed velocity, bringing the moon in question, now in mid-orbit on the far side, squarely into the targeting sights of the main Superlaser. Tarkin amused himself as he thought of the Rebels hidden somewhere among the dense jungle forests and the abandoned stone temples of the once-proud Massassi, scurrying to find a way to escape the deadly shadow cast by the monstrous station.

He stood, straightened his tunic and exited his chambers, heading for the Superlaser observation deck. He wanted a good view of the end of the Rebellion.



* * *



While “Ben” Kenobi had returned nothing from earlier holonet queries, 4120 thumbed the controls of his holo-pack, scrolling through the many entries highlighting the exploits of Jedi Knight and General, Obi-Wan Kenobi. The hooded old man that had skillfully eluded Tyrell with a casual mind trick had been a major player during the Clone Wars. Not only had he been the Jedi to uncover the origins of the clone army and the battle ‘droid manufacturing facility on Geonosis, but he also battled Count Dooku and General Grievous with his Padawaan learner during their rescue of Senator Palpatine. His Padawaan killed Dooku aboard Grievous’ starship, The Invisible Hand, while Kenobi himself later caught up with, and killed Grievous on Utapau, just prior to the issuing of Executive Order 66.

Every holo entry abruptly ended there, with the issuing of Order 66. One report stated it was believed that Commander Cody and his men on Utapau had delivered the killing blow to the Jedi when his Boga was blasted out from beneath him, and both had fallen from the rocky cliffs overhead into the deep, icy waters below. Although a body was never recovered, it was believed that he must have been killed in the fall from such a height . . . until now.

4120 switched off the holo-pack. Rogue reappeared from out of the darkness as he did. “All the data we have so far has been sent. Where is everyone?”

4120 slipped the pack back in its belt pouch as he replied, “Ddraig and Danz have gone ahead deeper into the ship with the Hammerhead to scout around a bit. 0600, Deckard, and Felth are checking out the crates and supplies over there”, he said, gesturing to a dim area near the upward-curving walls of the ship. “I’m not sure where the others are.”

Rogue sat down, exhaling, “Now we wait. Vader has the information. Hopefully it’s enough to help somehow.” He rubbed his forehead.

4120 silently nodded his agreement as he glanced over at us.

0600 broke the seal on one of the crates and Felth and I forced the lid open. I bent down and picked up one of the illuminators from the sand, holding it over the opening. Inside were ten or so rolls of fabric. Half were a light material of a sandy color. The remaining rolls were darker and heavier. 0600 reached in and dug beneath the fabric, revealing several pairs of boots in varying sizes, each with a leather belt tucked inside. There were no weapons, simply the materials and supplies to clothe the living weapons he hoped to raise and train here; hopes that had never been realized.

Disgusted, Felth moved to the next crate, breaking the seal and throwing open the lid. Inside were a dozen large, square cushions. “Cushions?” he yelled.

“There are cushions up here too”, called Falker from under one of the Bafforr trees on a durasteel catwalk landing above. He had been exploring the upper areas of the arena with Topolev and the others. “Looks like a perfect place for a Jedi to sit and meditate.”

4120 leaned over to Rogue, both staring up at Falker, “That’s where the others are.”

Rogue shot him a sideways glance.

“I’m getting some air”, snarled Felth as he crossed the sandy floor heading for the exit hatch. I watched him go, sporadically appearing out of the black darkness as he passed by each of the five illuminators lined up between us and the durasteel ladder leading up to the hatch in the hull.

“Let him go.” said 0600. “He’s used to starship duty. He wants a little action, not fabric.”

I watched him as he disappeared through the hatch, “He has a lot to learn about what action involves.”



*



Felth emerged from the stone tunnel into the cool night air. Millions of stars pierced the black sky as he circled around behind several large rocks. He set down his helmet and looked around, waiting . . . listening. While he was fairly certain no one had followed him, he had to be sure. Finally, convinced no one had trailed him, his irritated demeanor melted away.

Unsnapping a belt pouch, he quickly pulled out his holo-pack and flipped back the cover. The small screen flickered to life, and he keyed in a brief description of the training arena we had discovered, its coordinates, and a brief note about having just missed General Kenobi at Mos Eisley as he fled on the Millennium Falcon.

Once finished with his entry, the device prompted him for a transmission password. He entered the sequence given by his Bothan friend on Kothlis, and exhaled in relief as the code finally authenticated. He glanced over the top of the rock to make sure he was still alone as the screen flashed a request for the name of the recipient to whom he wrote.

He took a breath, entered the name . . . Base One - Jan Dodonna and pressed the transmit button.



* * *



A squadron of X-wing fighters raced across the surface of the massive space station, strafing gun turrets and towers with crimson blasts from their wingtip cannons as they streaked past. They pulled up and re-grouped high above the surface, only to cut sharply across the axis, drawing the fire from the turret cannons as a formation of Y-Wings dove into one of the many man-made canyons on the surface of the Death Star. They twisted and rolled as strategically placed drive system defense gun turrets along the rim of the trench blasted away at them to no avail.

An Imperial officer, standing by a monitor in one of the many tech stations, studied the green letters and numbers of the battle reports. They scrolled past on the monochrome screen as the station’s computers compiled damage reports and hit/miss ratios. He suddenly realized that although the Death Star could easily blast away an entire planet, it was having a difficult time defending itself against the swarming rebel snubship fighters. A bead of sweat formed on his brow, as he studied the reports from the turbolaser towers he realized . . . they were almost completely ineffective. If the Rebels were able to get past the guns and get to the reactor’s thermal exhaust port . . .

He had to find Lord Vader . . . quickly.



*



A final dot of light faded to black in the center of the screen as the Dark Lord switched off the data terminal and sat back in his padded chair. Cool air hissed in through vents in the pressure chamber as he began sifting what he had just read. He rested his bare head in his gloved hand, eyes closed, remembering his wife, and the child that he thought had died with her, by his hand. Chaos churned in the twisted recesses of Vader’s brain as his fingers traced the thick, deformed skin of the scar that ran across his scalp. His mechanically-assisted heart raced. Palpatine hadn’t foreseen this, and neither had he.

Luke Skywalker . . . Luke.

He had a son . . . a Force-sensitive son that had been hidden and protected by his former master. “Obi-Wan was wise to hide him from me” he thought to himself. Emotions that Anakin had not felt or even remembered existed were now dimly lit within him. Somewhere out there was the last piece . . . the last connection he had to his Padme. He slammed a fist down on one of the control buttons and his facemask and helmet lowered into place, locking and sealing on his head as the giant faceted sphere split apart in the center with the rush of escaping air.



*


Swarming Rebel fighters continued to blitz the surface of the station. The young officer looking for Lord Vader rushed through a corridor as it exploded around him, throwing him to the floor. Walls buckled, smoke and sparks filled the corridor as a trooper helped him up. He quickly checked himself for injury, then raced off to continue his search. He had almost reached the next monitoring station when the dark figure of Lord Vader passed by in the intersecting hallway ahead. “We count thirty Rebel ships, Lord Vader. But they're so small they're evading our turbo-lasers!”

Vader stopped and turned to him. “We'll have to destroy them ship to ship. Get the crews to their fighters.” As the Sith Lord turned to walk away, he felt a small, fluttering wave in the Force. A sensation he had not felt before. It was a feeling of recognition, similar to the presence of Kenobi, and yet different . . . much fainter, like a whisper in a driving wind. Somewhere deep inside, he could feel that his son was near, and the sensation was doing nothing but growing stronger. Luke was just a boy, and Kenobi was dead . . . his son could no longer be mentored by the Jedi who had failed him. Abruptly, he turned and walked away toward the turbolift. Tarkin would be expecting him on the Superlaser observation deck.



* * *



Danz and Ddraig climbed down off the tall rubble pile of stone and twisted durasteel girders, illuminators held high. Nadon stopped to catch his breath, “There’s a small breech in the hull just ahead, and an opening in the stone behind it that we must pass through in order to proceed.”

“What’s in there?” asked Ddraig.

The Ithorian high priest blinked his eyes slowly, turning them to Ddraig, “I could tell you, but it won’t even come close to capturing all that awaits. You need to see this with your own eyes to appreciate it.”

Ddraig shot a look to Danz who shrugged his shoulders, “OK, let’s get moving so we can appreciate it up close.”

Their tired guide stood and moved past them into the darkness ahead, carefully moving around the sharp, jagged edges of the durasteel hull skin that was peeled back from the sheared opening. They followed him into the stony opening beyond the hull and walked on several yards, navigating through the narrow crack in the rock until they stepped out into a much larger chamber.

“Wait!” said Nadon. “You must be very careful here. There’s a long drop to either side of the path we’re on. You can see it more clearly in the day, as some light filters in through openings above.”

Both troopers, having left their helmets behind, stood very still until their eyes slowly adjusted, and the dim chamber became more visible.

The enormous space was larger than they could have imagined. Nadon went ahead, crossing a stone bridge and moving between twin carved columns supporting an ornately carved arch which led to another chamber ahead. Danz and Ddraig followed slowly, taking everything in. The room opened into a common area, connecting many stone bridges on varying levels, like the hub of an enormous wheel. In its center were massive stone stairs, spiraling up and down to all levels.

Danz and Ddraig moved past, heading for the stairs and were about to descend when Nadon stopped them and sat down on a stone block, “The stairwell passage has collapsed that way. There is no way down from here, only up.”

The two troopers looked at each other and turned to head back to the bridge. Danz was staring down to the bridge below, “So how far down would you say it is to the next level?”

Ddraig was trying to estimate the distance as Danz pulled a small folded grappling hook from a compartment on the rear of his belt and fished out some line. “It looks like a good fifteen to twenty meters. Why?”

Danz stood up and passed the grappling hook around one of the stone columns that flanked the archway they had passed through to reach the steps. He wrapped it completely around and locked the hook around the cable. “I’m going down to see if the steps are clear from that point down. If they are, we can repel down to the next level and then walk down from there.”

Ddraig didn’t much care for the idea, but knew there was no other way down. Danz stepped off the bridge and began backing down the face of the stone wall toward the bridge below as Nadon caught up to them, “That is not the best of ideas. Dangerous this is. Old are these stone carvings . . . delicate, fragile even.”

As he spoke, the column shifted with the crunching scrape of stone on stone. Ddraig dove toward the stone, pressing his shoulder into it “No, No No . . . don’t you do it!” Nadon turned to help, lowering his shoulder and straining with his powerful legs. Try as they might, they could not stop the stone from sliding off its base and begin sliding toward the edge of the bridge. “DANZ! The stone is going over the edge! Get down to that bridge, GET OFF THE CABLE!”

Danz hurried to reach the bridge, and as he was about to step foot on it, the stone on the bridge above pushed Ddraig and Nadon out of the way, and slid over the edge and into the darkness.

“Ddraig screamed into the blackness below, “UNHOOK FROM THE LINE! UNHOOK”

The stone dropped and slammed into the bridge below with a huge thudding sound that echoed loudly in the still, bouncing off the stony walls of the silent chamber. Then, it shifted to one side as Danz fought to unclip the grappling assembly from his belt, but the stone toppled and fell over the edge before he could release. It jerked him hard, off the lower bridge and into the blackness below. He grabbed for his holstered E-11 as he fell, far out of sight and deep into the darkness of the chasm. There were several flashes of crimson light with the sound of blaster fire in the darkness, followed by a final bone-shattering crash as the column hit bottom . . . then nothing

“DANZ!” yelled Ddraig. But there was only silence from below.




* * *




Troopers rushed through the hallway as Lord Vader addressed two TIE pilots, “Several fighters have broken off from the main group. Come with me.” Turning, he led them down a corridor toward the TIE hangar bay that housed his modified fighter. “An analysis of the plans for the station have presented a potential weakness in its design. It could possibly be exploited if the Rebels have also managed to arrive at a similar conclusion.”

He stepped through an open blast door onto a gantry, high above the flight deck, leading out into the mammoth hangar. As he arrived at the opened canopy hatch for his fighter, he turned once more to his accompanying pilots, “Stay close to me. You are only to fire when I say so . . . and obey my every command.” With that, he turned and slipped into the seat of his fighter as ‘droids moved in to secure and prep him. The pilots walked away toward their own standard TIEs.

Vader strapped himself in as his mind raced, he had to be very careful. He wanted to strip away all support, all wingmen, all friends from Luke and disable his ship enough to force a landing in a secured bay. If he could manage this . . . perhaps the boy could be swayed to join him, and his days of bowing to Palpatine might become numbered. He and his son could rule the galaxy, leading the Empire he had forged so many years ago. Quickly he cleared his mind. Palpatine was very powerful. He could not risk the Emperor sensing his true intentions.

Overhead mechanical arms securing his fighter released as his repulsors and engines came online. The other two TIEs were released moments later, and he maneuvered carefully toward the magnetic shield at the bay door as his wingmen formed up on either side. He throttled up, pushing through the magnetic membrane into the cold of space outside to join the battle, his wingmen close. “Stay in attack formation” he commanded over the comm as he banked his ship to the right.




* * *



Rogue was in full gear running across an open courtyard as a deafening crack of lightning split the night air and heavy rain began to pour down. Several explosions rocked the ground as he ran, lighting up the thick smoke in the air behind him. He paused momentarily as 0600 and several others came running up to join him, and squeezed off several shots at those advancing from behind.

“There’s one shuttle left on the pad, we’ve gotta get over there if we want any chance of surviving this.” The ground exploded behind them, spewing dirt and small bits of duracrete debris through the air, instantly flung on the concussive shockwave. It blasted into their armored plates like a giant fist, knocking them all into the mud. “They’re getting closer, let’s go!”

Another slash of lightning tore through the sky, accompanied by a chest-pounding clap and the disturbing roll of the moody thunder that followed.

As they ran through the smoke and rain, Rogue turned his head catching sight of his Squad leader, across the quad, pulling off his helmet, grabbing a T-21 repeating rifle from the hands of one of the dead troopers on the ground, and charging to the top of a pile of rubble. He cocked the rifle and began blasting away at the shadowy mass that was rapidly gaining on them from the far side of the complex. The fence had been breeched, and the shuttle was their only way out now. His squad leader was firing non-stop, dropping bodies left and right, but still they advanced, swarming over him, beating him with their fists and clubs. Then, he disappeared in the swarm surrounding him, as if he were drowning.

They ran toward the landing pad as other troopers in their squad blasted away at the oncoming flood of Ithorians, covering their hasty retreat from a landing several meters above. Rogue and 0600 reached the bottom of the stairs that led up to the flight deck. They were about to take the first step when another powerful explosion rocked the structure of the landing platform and ground beneath them, throwing them to the dirt. The troopers on the landing above were flung over the railing as a large, twisted mass of the durasteel structure folded in on itself and came crashing down around Rogue and 0600 . . . broken, bloodied bodies burying them. Something had shattered his leg armor and pierced his thigh . . . he could hardly breathe under this tangled pile of dead troopers . . . he suddenly felt a cold chill run up his spine and passed out, slipping into darkness.

Suddenly, he was floating above, watching the battle unfold from high above his unconscious body. Thousands of Hammerheads came streaming across the base as he watched, washing around the pile of unmoving armored bodies he was beneath, like water around a rock . . . as they advanced on the command center beyond. Rogue’s floating presence then felt 0600 shaking his body on the ground below . . . pulling him out of the pile of the dead. Lightning flashed brightly above as 0600 shook him, trying to rouse him, “Rogue, wake up!”


“Rogue, wake up!” said 0600, shaking him more violently now.

Sweaty eyelids flew open and he instinctively reached for his blaster. He was staring up at 0600, who was blocking the E-11 from his reach . . . the cables of the Jedi arena crisscrossing the interior of the dim starship cargo bay behind him, overhead.

“It’s OK, we’re on Tatooine, remember? You were dreaming. Danz is in trouble, we’ve gotta go . . . now.”

Rogue sat up and 0600 grabbed one hand, Ddraig grabbed the other and they pulled him to his feet. The others were hurrying past into the darkness following Nadon.




*




Somewhere up above the dark chamber she was sitting in, there was the sound of a monstrous impact, and the shattering of stone as small rocks rained down through the twisting, sloping crevasses into the cathedral chamber she now rested in. A wave of dust followed, drifting down and spreading out across the open room. A furry hand reached for the lluminator, which she dimmed slowly.

Cautiously, she cocked her hooded head to one side, listening to the silence that followed the crash. She glanced with gleaming eyes down to the Gaffi sticks and pouches she had scavenged off the dead Tuskens from the ridge outside the cave as she chewed her small mouthful of desert scurrier.

Curiosity got the better of her, and as she swallowed the cooked meat, she began to climb over the rocks, up the sloping stone grade into the darkness where the small rocks had spilled from. The passage was narrow here, but as she crawled, it eventually widened just enough for her to squeeze out into a larger cavity above. There was no light here at all.

She pulled out her illuminator and switched it on revealing the incredible size of the chamber she was now in. “Ohhhh” she whispered as she leaned her head back, holding her hood and straining to see the top, then she lowered her gaze and looked around. In the center of the room, wrapped up in a tangle of cable, lay what remained of a huge stone column, now split down its length. She reflexively jumped behind the corner of the giant stone as a shower of small stones rained down from the darkness of the bridge span above.

Something was moving up there.




* * *




“I am aware of the rebel snubships, Bast, but quite honestly they do not concern me in the least. I am only interested in acquiring a targeting lock on the fourth moon. We have almost cleared the curvature of the planet. Once we do, the rebellion will cease to be of concern to anyone.”

Tarkin exhaled shortly through slightly flared nostrils as he turned back to the wall display. Bast closed his eyes, wishing he could convince the Grand Moff that there was indeed reason to be concerned. Even Lord Vader had taken the information under advisement and was now personally engaging the fighters in his modified TIE.

He swallowed hard and stepped up behind, and slightly beside Tarkin, almost whispering in his ear, that others might not hear what he had to say. “I’ve analyzed their attack, sir, and there is a danger. Should I have your ship standing by?”

Tarkin’s eyes widened slightly in amazement as he turned to face Bast once again, “Evacuate? In our moment of triumph? I think you overestimate their chances.”

Bast bowed slightly, stepping back from his superior officer. Then he turned and left the observation deck as the master statistician Grand Moff fumed at the idea that his incredible weapon, his Death Star, might possibly be in any danger from a small band of well-worn rebel fighters. Bast couldn’t be concerned with whether or not Tarkin believed him now. He hurried away toward the hangar bay and the small supply ship he had waiting.



*



Red Leader pressed the earpiece tighter to his ear as a crackling communication came through from Yavin IV, “Red Leader, this is Base One. Keep half your group out of range for the next run.”

All remaining pilots heard Red Leader acknowledge General Dodonna, “Copy, Base One. Luke, take Red Two and Three. Hold up here and wait for my signal to start your run.” As he finished issuing his order, he and two other X-wing fighters broke away from the main group and dove toward the trench and their shot at the exhaust port.

As they rolled into the trench, Red Leader called out to his wingmen, “Keep your eyes open for those fighters.” The reply from Red Ten came back almost immediately, “There’s too much interference. Red Five, can you see them from where you are?”

Biggs Darklighter and Wedge Antilles flanked Luke in a tight formation as he looked up, then strained his neck to the right as he began to reply, “No sign of any . . . “ Then he looked out to his left, “Wait, they’re coming in point three five.”

Red Ten replied as Red Leader prepared his computer to gain a lock on the target. “I see them.”

High above the Death Star, Luke, Wedge, and Biggs watched as the attacking group skimmed through the trench across the surface of the station, and could see TIEs closing in on them.

The odd TIE in the center of the formation pulled ahead of the wingmen and fired on Red Twelve, vaporizing the ship in the flash of a fireball. The TIEs flew though the flames holding steady on the tail of Red Ten, who continued to cover Red Leader.

“Almost there . . .”

Red Ten responded in a panic, “I can’t hold them!” as Vader lined up his crosshairs on the rear of the rebel fighter. Green flashes of energy spit from the lead TIE, and Red Ten screamed momentarily into his comm as he and his ship vaporized into cosmic dust and were sprayed across the trench wall.

Red Leader yelled into his comm, “It’s away!” and pulled back hard on his stick, climbing out of the trench, still pursued by the triangular formation of TIEs.

Red Nine yelled back, “It’s a hit?”

A moment of silence passed and Red Leader responded, “Negative. Negative. It didn’t go in . . . it just impacted on the surface.” As he finished his comment, Vader fired on him, bolts of energy slashing through one of the four engines on his X-wing.

Luke spoke into his comm, “We’re right above you, turn to point oh-five. We’ll cover for you.”

Red Leader knew he was no longer able to stay ahead of the TIEs, and cautioned Luke’s group away, “Stay there, I just lost my starboard engine. Get set up for your attack run.” As he finished his sentence, Vader’s sight found its target and the Dark Lord opened fire, energy beams ripping through the ship, crippling it. Red Leader screamed as his fighter plunged into an unrecoverable dive toward the stark surface, and he was gone in a brilliant flash of flaming fuel scattered across the skin of the beast they fought.

Antilles and Darklighter watched the fireball from the impact of Red Leader’s ship as they raced past. Luke’s voice came through on their headsets, “Biggs, Wedge, let's close it up. We're going in. We're going in full throttle, that outta keep those fighters off our backs.”

Wedge kicked up his throttle as he responded, “Right with you, boss.”

Biggs had a few concerns about the end of the trench and the space needed to pull up safely after dumping the torpedoes, “Luke, at that speed will you be able to pull out in time?”

Luke felt a warm energy coursing through his body as he fought to center himself the way Obi-Wan had instructed him, “It’ll be just like Beggar’s Canyon back home.”



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