Xol, the Yautja practitioner of the Dark Side of the Force, fulfills his master’s dying wish, and embarks on a mission into a strange new galaxy, one filled with wonder, peril, and despair.
With his master’s holocron to guide him, he sets out to find more long forgotten knowledge of the Force, bringing it back into balance.
He will now act as the Force’s executioner, eliminating all those who would unbalance it, and bring unrest to this galaxy.
He hopes as reward, it will show him the way back to his long lost home, the only place that can quench the fires of his anger…
Xol’s newly acquired SoroSuub fighter shudders in the cold black of space. It has been days since he left the uninhabited system in which he called home for almost ten years. The loneliness of the black beyond the transparisteel of his cockpit, ignites long forgotten memories of Xol’s past. He fondly remembers hunts as a child with his father, a time, which to him, seems a thousand lifetimes ago, like a dream of someone else’s life.
Suddenly, like being roused from a deep sleep Xol’s focus snaps to the present as his fighter’s control panel begins to blink with various flashing lights and buzz with alarm indicators.
“Master, what is that?” the startled warrior asks the control panel. “I see nothing different on any of the instruments and I see nothing new outside the cockpit. There is no reason it should be going off that I know of.”
“Be calm, young one, that is just the navigational computer coming online, you have exited the Unknown Regions and are now entering known space.” A voice replies from beneath his cloak. “Now, the star charts I have stored in this fighter’s memory banks should contain a sufficient level of astrological information to bring you to the nearest planet using light speed, a place known as Rakata Prime.”
“Thank you my master,” Xol replies as he reaches beneath his cloak, grabbing the lightsaber and placing it on the forward console, allowing its holographic projector to activate, the small, ghostly, blue figure of his master appearing from it just as before.
“Master Blades,” Xol says with a look of confusion hidden underneath his helmet, “I do not see a Rakata Prime anywhere in the registry; I do not believe the fighter’s memory contains its location.”
“It is there, boy.” The hologram says assertively, “It must be under its other name Xol, try Lehon.”
Xol’s eyes pan down the list of systems in the navigation computer, finally coming to rest on a selection. “Yes master, you are correct, there is a system called Lehon.”
“Excellent, my former apprentice.” The small blue figure amusedly replies, “Prepare for the jump to hyperspace,” Master Blades continues with a pause, “Engage.”
With an abrupt shift in forward momentum, the tiny craft fires forward, disappearing in a swirling tunnel of light, the transparisteel of the cockpit tints darker to compensate for the amount of light flooding in.
All the while, Xol looks around in wonderment at the phenomenon before him. Once he has had his fill he looks down at the hologram seemingly standing atop the command console and asks, “Master, what is the significance of this planet we venture to?”
With a flutter of its image, the hologram of Dark Lord Blades changes to an projection of a large planet, with its two moons orbiting around it. The holographic image then begins to display the statistical data of the planet, such as its average temperature, atmosphere and other key features.
From behind the image, the voice of Xol’s master resurfaces, “This is Lehon, better known to those of my advanced knowledge of history as Rakata Prime. Once the epicenter of the great Infinite Empire, it is now nothing but a lost world, its people destroyed long ago.”
“Then why, my master, do you direct my path there?” Xol asks, seemingly perturbed by the idea that his former master is wasting his time.
“Because, my dear, dear, Xol, this is the resting place of a great Jedi Holocron, hidden here due to the planets unique and overwhelming connection to the Dark Side of the Force. Not even Vader himself could sense the presence of the artifact hidden here, however, I know of its whereabouts, and it will be the key to you finding all the other artifacts, and those who would use them.” The holographic image reverts back to the visage of Master Blades before continuing, “Now, rest my boy, it will still be some time before we reach Rakata Prime, you should be at your most aware when we arrive, this planet is not as forgiving as I am.”
After several hours of travel, the tiny spacecraft emerges from hyperspace in the shadow of a giant blue planet, its two moons tucked behind, like children hiding behind their mother. Xol’s patrol fighter slows, almost coming to a halt, its forward engines disengaged; it drifts slowly toward the sapphire-coloured sphere.
Inside the cockpit, Xol wakes from sleep, his shoulders tight from the cramped conditions of the fighter’s pilot compartment.
With fatigue still clinging to his voice, Xol asks his master’s projection which is still active on the control panel, “Have we arrived? Is this Rakata Prime?”
“Indeed it is, I wanted to make sure you were awake before plotting a descent course. The Holocron that you seek is kept hidden beneath the Temple of the Ancients, or at least what’s left of them.”
“How will I know what to look for?” Xol asks his projected former mentor.
“Holocrons can vary in construction, and can be of varying size, you will sense its presence young Yautja, you are too strong for it to hide from you.” Master Blades responds, a sense of pride in his tone.
“I am ready, my master, nothing shall keep me from completing this task.” Xol says, proudly.
“You had better be, Lord Xol, the heart of this planet has been driven mad and it may take you with it if you aren’t careful.” Master Blades warns before reengaging the forward engines propelling the small patrol craft towards the surface of the planet.
Within a few minutes, Xol’s fighter reaches the surface of the planet. The surrounding area almost completely shrouded by jungle, save the clearing the fighter has landed in, it is evident that a great battle had taken place here long ago as some of the topography that appears to be hills and rocks are actually great spires of wreckage from starships that have crashed on this world.
The pilot canopy hisses as it opens spewing jets of compressed gas as the seal is purged. Xol is quick to stand up and survey his surroundings, he crouches back down to gather his equipment, and his master’s lightsaber from the control panel. Once he has all his items, he jumps down to the ground, his massive frame surprisingly quiet upon impact.
The lightsaber now attached to Xol’s belt, begins to transmit audio without the addition of a holographic projection. “Lord Xol, the entrance to the temple you require should be a few hours on foot north of here, in the meantime, due to the dense jungle foliage, the fighter must remain here, and you will have to make your way back to it for extraction. I am transferring this program to its databanks and leaving only a link to the lightsaber holo-emitter. If you require any information beyond cartography and language translation, simply initialize the link by saying my name. It’s coded for your voice only, and won’t respond to anyone else. Good luck, my former apprentice, may the Force show you the way.”
With a nod of agreement and the activation of his Yautja cloaking device, Xol leaps into the tree line disappearing into its haunting darkness.
As Xol makes his way through the canopy, he feels the darkness of this place all around him, piercing through him like a chilled wind.
From a short distance away, echoing out into the forest, there rings out the sound of an energy weapon discharging. Someone else is here in this jungle, and they are heavily armed. Xol moves cautiously in the direction of where his onboard helmet computer calculated the shot came from, his infrared vision and targeting computer scanning the terrain attempting to find the shooter as he moves.
A few minutes later, at the edge of a forest stream, Xol spots in his line of vision, a figure in semi-camouflaged, high tech armor, kneeling down next to the smoldering corpse of a winged creature, possibly a source of nutrition for this individual. The stranger sets his weapon next to him on the ground, as he gathers up the dead animal in a rucksack he has slung over one shoulder.
Not knowing whether this new found person is a friend or an enemy, Xol remains cloaked, and stealthily jumps down from his treetop perch. He readies his plasma caster and lightsaber; he cannot take any chances, not with all that is at stake. Like a jungle cat stalking its prey, the Yautja makes his way closer and closer toward the armored stranger, hoping to catch him by surprise before he can reach his weapon without having to kill him, he may contain information that could be of use to him on this foreboding planet.
Inching ever closer, he can almost smell the exhaled breath of the stranger, a foot or more to go before this prey will be his, Xol thinks to himself. As he steps into the flank of the stranger, being careful to avoid the water of the stream as it will disrupt his cloaking field. Xol arms his plasma caster, initiating his targeting laser, a triangular arrangement of red dots projecting themselves against the leg armor of his victim. He need only strike now to disable his target without killing him.
“You’re standing on a stasis mine, you know that right?” the armored soldier says cockily, while putting on his rucksack, now full of charred animal.
Xol remains motionless, in disbelief that this soldier can discern where he is. Believing the stranger is bluffing, he moves more into the position on his targets flank. From underfoot, a shrill beeping sound begins, and before Xol can react, a wave of intense energy overtakes him, locking all his muscles, freezing him in place, disrupting his cloak and shorting out his plasma caster. More alarming, is the fact that this energy wave has seemingly disrupted his connection to the Force somehow. Now, still as a statue, and visible, Xol begins to worry that he may have made a mistake in wanting to keep this prey alive.
“I told you, bounty hunter.” The armoured soldier says with a laugh. He reaches down to retrieve his weapon before continuing, “I knew the Confederacy was getting desperate, but sending bounty hunters to kill us off is just cowardly.”
Xol strains to respond but he finds his mouth just as locked up as the rest of him.
“Don’t worry friend, you will be able to move soon, by then I should have this portable shield generator up and running, so that you and I can have a little chat, real civil like, one killer to another.” The stranger says reassuringly, after hearing Xol’s strained attempts to speak.
The stranger, disappears into the jungle for a few minutes, upon his return, he has no rucksack and is carrying three identical staff-like objects with finely crafted crystalline tops. He begins to stake them into the ground, ensuring that they are all arranged in a perfect triangular formation from one another with Xol directly in the center. With the push of a few buttons on a circular, handheld control panel, the three staked pylons shine and light up with energy. The energy coursing through them, streams outward like water towards the other stakes in the formation, encapsulating the Yautja in between them in a triangular latticework.
Moments later, Xol feels his muscles start to relax, his weaponry still seems to be offline, but, to his delight, he can feel the Force, as well as the Dark Side energies of this planet come back to him. He knows, even without weapons he can destroy this puny little creature with a thought, but he won’t just to see if this stranger’s continued existence will serve a greater purpose, a lesson taught to him by his master.
Without fear of being attacked, the soldier begins to move his camp from its location in the jungle to one closer to Xol. For a lone warrior, he carries with him an arsenal worthy of an entire regiment, with a wide variety of weaponry, communications arrays and scientific equipment among his belongings. Once his camp is set, the stranger lights a small fire, rigs up a spit above it, skewers the charred animal from before on it and whilst sitting and rotating the carcass over the flame, he begins to talk again with his captive.
“So, how much did the ‘Feds pay you to come here and kill off my team?” the soldier questions.
“I do not know of these 'Feds you speak of, nor do I have any wish to kill you, warrior.” Xol says, in an even, yet annoyed tone.
“Do you honestly expect me to believe bounty hunter scum like you? I haven’t lived for over twenty standard years on this forsaken rock, by buying into Confederate lies!” The soldier answers, furiously.
“Your anger I am sure is well warranted, but I insist that I am not your enemy, continue this interrogation and I very well will be.” Xol retorts as he opens his cloak, fanning it out to his sides. “You may search me, you will find nothing that will designate me a bounty hunter, or one of these Confederates you speak of, I assure you.”
The glint of Master Blades’ lightsaber catches the eye of the soldier; with a pause he stammers the words, “Order sixty six, it can’t be after all this time. No, it’s happening again!”
Xol senses a great fear wash over his captor, but it is not a genuine fear, it is somehow changed, manipulated by the Dark Side that resides in this place.
“Quiet your mind soldier, fear can aid you, but, in this case, it is clouding your judgment, I am not your enemy, let me help you.” Xol assures in a calming tone.
Now, weapon in hand, the soldier begins to frantically dart his attention in all directions, as if he were surrounded before returning his focus to Xol. He trains his DC-17 on his captive, his head still jerking back and forth, constantly looking over his shoulder.
“You bastard, they couldn’t execute Order sixty-six, so they let you get away, and for that I killed them.” The stranger exclaims, gun shaking in his hands. “Then I hunted you down, didn’t I. Oh yes, yes I did, I did what the others couldn’t, but orders are orders, we are created to follow orders.” He continues, maniacally.
“What were these orders soldier?” Xol asks, cautiously.
“Order sixty-six is the immediate extermination of all Jedi officers as they have been deemed traitors to the Republic and must be eliminated.” The soldier drones, as if it were recited untold times by him. Beginning to softly sob the soldier continues, “They didn’t have to die, though, if they had just followed orders we would all be alive and back with the Republic now.”
“As I said soldier, I am not your enemy, I am not even a Jedi…” Xol conveys, attempting to calm the armed man standing in front of him.
“All lies! You are Jedi, armed with one of their light blades and I cannot let you live, I have my orders!” The soldier shouts, interrupting.
“You have your orders?” Xol says mocking, “I have exhausted my patience with you.
With a raise of his hand, Xol, using his Dark Side talents begins to lift the soldier into the air, strangling him as he goes. The soldier unable to continue gripping his weapon, drops it, and starts clawing at his neck, desperate to free himself from the invisible restraint.
Gasping for air, the soldier chokes out, “Release me, I did not realize it was you, please, I know now you are not a Jedi.”
Curious to know how this crazed individual could come to such a conclusion, Xol releases the soldier from his grasp, setting him down to the ground gently.
“Thank you, sir.” The soldier still coughing replies in gratitude, “We had only heard whispers that there would be Jedi counter agents in our ranks, ones who would be similarly gifted and trained, I apologize for detaining you and will fully accept any punishment you feel is necessary sir.”
“On the contrary,” Xol responds, with a laugh. “I was never detained.” The Dark Jedi motions with his hands outstretched, as all three pylons forming his shielded prison, shudder, and finally shatter under the extreme strain put upon them. With their destruction the shield instantly disperses and Xol walks forward, towards the soldier. Placing his hand on the trooper’s shoulder, “Soldier, I know what troubles you, I too, have lost many of those I would consider close to me, like family.” Xol says sincerely, “This order you were given, did it come from Emperor Vader?”
His head tilted in confusion, the soldier replies, “I do not know whom Emperor Vader is sir, I follow the orders of Chancellor Palpatine directly, him, and no other.”
Shocked, Xol replies, “Soldier, the chancellor, ascended his position becoming emperor of the newly founded Galactic Empire some twenty years ago; he then in turn was betrayed and killed by a Sith Lord subordinate of his known as Darth Vader.
“Is this true sir? I have not received any communications to corroborate your story.” The trooper answers in disbelief.
“Yes it is true, trooper, my master has told me this, and he is very wise and knowledgeable.” Xol replies, assuredly. “Trooper, my name is Lord Xol, what is your designation?”
Assertively, the trooper stands up, at attention and in a firm assertive tone he proclaims, “DX-1165, my pod mates call me Dex, sir!”
“Very well Dex, I’d like to introduce you to my master,” Xol says, as he flicks on the holo-emitter located on his master’s lightsaber. “His holographic image should illuminate you on recent events, and for pity sake man, at ease, remember, I am not your commanding officer.”
Dex removes his helmet, his face is one of suffering and pain, his hair grayed, it is clear he has led a hard life. On the right side of his face is a formidable scar running from his hairline all the way to his chin, clearly made some time ago by the near miss of a lightsaber. His eyes are a dark brown, displaying nothing but the cold indifference of war itself. He proceeds to sit down next to the fire he built, staring with a soldiers focus at the holographic image displayed before him. Upon Xols prompting, the image of Dark Lord Blades, told Dex of the history he had missed, the defeat of the Confederacy, Rise of the Empire at the cost of the Republic, and the ascendancy of its current tyrannical overlord, Darth Vader.
Dex, clearly shattered by the information, stands up, his face blank, and walks to Xol, whom has been thoroughly inspecting Dex’s equipment during the presentation. “Lord Xol,” the trooper begins with sadness in his words, “I have lost literally everything in the service of something I know now, to be nothing but a lie. I slaughtered my pod mates, my fellow commandos to uphold the ideals of a power hungry dictator.” He stops to put his helmet back on, and pick up his DC-17, “I will do anything to bring stability back to the galaxy, your master briefly talked of your mission, and I wish to join you in your cause.”
“The offer is well received commando, but I’m afraid I arrived in a small patrol craft, not sufficient enough for taking on passengers.” Xol says, apologetically.
Suddenly, like being roused from a deep sleep Xol’s focus snaps to the present as his fighter’s control panel begins to blink with various flashing lights and buzz with alarm indicators.
“Master, what is that?” the startled warrior asks the control panel. “I see nothing different on any of the instruments and I see nothing new outside the cockpit. There is no reason it should be going off that I know of.”
“Be calm, young one, that is just the navigational computer coming online, you have exited the Unknown Regions and are now entering known space.” A voice replies from beneath his cloak. “Now, the star charts I have stored in this fighter’s memory banks should contain a sufficient level of astrological information to bring you to the nearest planet using light speed, a place known as Rakata Prime.”
“Thank you my master,” Xol replies as he reaches beneath his cloak, grabbing the lightsaber and placing it on the forward console, allowing its holographic projector to activate, the small, ghostly, blue figure of his master appearing from it just as before.
“Master Blades,” Xol says with a look of confusion hidden underneath his helmet, “I do not see a Rakata Prime anywhere in the registry; I do not believe the fighter’s memory contains its location.”
“It is there, boy.” The hologram says assertively, “It must be under its other name Xol, try Lehon.”
Xol’s eyes pan down the list of systems in the navigation computer, finally coming to rest on a selection. “Yes master, you are correct, there is a system called Lehon.”
“Excellent, my former apprentice.” The small blue figure amusedly replies, “Prepare for the jump to hyperspace,” Master Blades continues with a pause, “Engage.”
With an abrupt shift in forward momentum, the tiny craft fires forward, disappearing in a swirling tunnel of light, the transparisteel of the cockpit tints darker to compensate for the amount of light flooding in.
All the while, Xol looks around in wonderment at the phenomenon before him. Once he has had his fill he looks down at the hologram seemingly standing atop the command console and asks, “Master, what is the significance of this planet we venture to?”
With a flutter of its image, the hologram of Dark Lord Blades changes to an projection of a large planet, with its two moons orbiting around it. The holographic image then begins to display the statistical data of the planet, such as its average temperature, atmosphere and other key features.
From behind the image, the voice of Xol’s master resurfaces, “This is Lehon, better known to those of my advanced knowledge of history as Rakata Prime. Once the epicenter of the great Infinite Empire, it is now nothing but a lost world, its people destroyed long ago.”
“Then why, my master, do you direct my path there?” Xol asks, seemingly perturbed by the idea that his former master is wasting his time.
“Because, my dear, dear, Xol, this is the resting place of a great Jedi Holocron, hidden here due to the planets unique and overwhelming connection to the Dark Side of the Force. Not even Vader himself could sense the presence of the artifact hidden here, however, I know of its whereabouts, and it will be the key to you finding all the other artifacts, and those who would use them.” The holographic image reverts back to the visage of Master Blades before continuing, “Now, rest my boy, it will still be some time before we reach Rakata Prime, you should be at your most aware when we arrive, this planet is not as forgiving as I am.”
After several hours of travel, the tiny spacecraft emerges from hyperspace in the shadow of a giant blue planet, its two moons tucked behind, like children hiding behind their mother. Xol’s patrol fighter slows, almost coming to a halt, its forward engines disengaged; it drifts slowly toward the sapphire-coloured sphere.
Inside the cockpit, Xol wakes from sleep, his shoulders tight from the cramped conditions of the fighter’s pilot compartment.
With fatigue still clinging to his voice, Xol asks his master’s projection which is still active on the control panel, “Have we arrived? Is this Rakata Prime?”
“Indeed it is, I wanted to make sure you were awake before plotting a descent course. The Holocron that you seek is kept hidden beneath the Temple of the Ancients, or at least what’s left of them.”
“How will I know what to look for?” Xol asks his projected former mentor.
“Holocrons can vary in construction, and can be of varying size, you will sense its presence young Yautja, you are too strong for it to hide from you.” Master Blades responds, a sense of pride in his tone.
“I am ready, my master, nothing shall keep me from completing this task.” Xol says, proudly.
“You had better be, Lord Xol, the heart of this planet has been driven mad and it may take you with it if you aren’t careful.” Master Blades warns before reengaging the forward engines propelling the small patrol craft towards the surface of the planet.
Within a few minutes, Xol’s fighter reaches the surface of the planet. The surrounding area almost completely shrouded by jungle, save the clearing the fighter has landed in, it is evident that a great battle had taken place here long ago as some of the topography that appears to be hills and rocks are actually great spires of wreckage from starships that have crashed on this world.
The pilot canopy hisses as it opens spewing jets of compressed gas as the seal is purged. Xol is quick to stand up and survey his surroundings, he crouches back down to gather his equipment, and his master’s lightsaber from the control panel. Once he has all his items, he jumps down to the ground, his massive frame surprisingly quiet upon impact.
The lightsaber now attached to Xol’s belt, begins to transmit audio without the addition of a holographic projection. “Lord Xol, the entrance to the temple you require should be a few hours on foot north of here, in the meantime, due to the dense jungle foliage, the fighter must remain here, and you will have to make your way back to it for extraction. I am transferring this program to its databanks and leaving only a link to the lightsaber holo-emitter. If you require any information beyond cartography and language translation, simply initialize the link by saying my name. It’s coded for your voice only, and won’t respond to anyone else. Good luck, my former apprentice, may the Force show you the way.”
With a nod of agreement and the activation of his Yautja cloaking device, Xol leaps into the tree line disappearing into its haunting darkness.
As Xol makes his way through the canopy, he feels the darkness of this place all around him, piercing through him like a chilled wind.
From a short distance away, echoing out into the forest, there rings out the sound of an energy weapon discharging. Someone else is here in this jungle, and they are heavily armed. Xol moves cautiously in the direction of where his onboard helmet computer calculated the shot came from, his infrared vision and targeting computer scanning the terrain attempting to find the shooter as he moves.
A few minutes later, at the edge of a forest stream, Xol spots in his line of vision, a figure in semi-camouflaged, high tech armor, kneeling down next to the smoldering corpse of a winged creature, possibly a source of nutrition for this individual. The stranger sets his weapon next to him on the ground, as he gathers up the dead animal in a rucksack he has slung over one shoulder.
Not knowing whether this new found person is a friend or an enemy, Xol remains cloaked, and stealthily jumps down from his treetop perch. He readies his plasma caster and lightsaber; he cannot take any chances, not with all that is at stake. Like a jungle cat stalking its prey, the Yautja makes his way closer and closer toward the armored stranger, hoping to catch him by surprise before he can reach his weapon without having to kill him, he may contain information that could be of use to him on this foreboding planet.
Inching ever closer, he can almost smell the exhaled breath of the stranger, a foot or more to go before this prey will be his, Xol thinks to himself. As he steps into the flank of the stranger, being careful to avoid the water of the stream as it will disrupt his cloaking field. Xol arms his plasma caster, initiating his targeting laser, a triangular arrangement of red dots projecting themselves against the leg armor of his victim. He need only strike now to disable his target without killing him.
“You’re standing on a stasis mine, you know that right?” the armored soldier says cockily, while putting on his rucksack, now full of charred animal.
Xol remains motionless, in disbelief that this soldier can discern where he is. Believing the stranger is bluffing, he moves more into the position on his targets flank. From underfoot, a shrill beeping sound begins, and before Xol can react, a wave of intense energy overtakes him, locking all his muscles, freezing him in place, disrupting his cloak and shorting out his plasma caster. More alarming, is the fact that this energy wave has seemingly disrupted his connection to the Force somehow. Now, still as a statue, and visible, Xol begins to worry that he may have made a mistake in wanting to keep this prey alive.
“I told you, bounty hunter.” The armoured soldier says with a laugh. He reaches down to retrieve his weapon before continuing, “I knew the Confederacy was getting desperate, but sending bounty hunters to kill us off is just cowardly.”
Xol strains to respond but he finds his mouth just as locked up as the rest of him.
“Don’t worry friend, you will be able to move soon, by then I should have this portable shield generator up and running, so that you and I can have a little chat, real civil like, one killer to another.” The stranger says reassuringly, after hearing Xol’s strained attempts to speak.
The stranger, disappears into the jungle for a few minutes, upon his return, he has no rucksack and is carrying three identical staff-like objects with finely crafted crystalline tops. He begins to stake them into the ground, ensuring that they are all arranged in a perfect triangular formation from one another with Xol directly in the center. With the push of a few buttons on a circular, handheld control panel, the three staked pylons shine and light up with energy. The energy coursing through them, streams outward like water towards the other stakes in the formation, encapsulating the Yautja in between them in a triangular latticework.
Moments later, Xol feels his muscles start to relax, his weaponry still seems to be offline, but, to his delight, he can feel the Force, as well as the Dark Side energies of this planet come back to him. He knows, even without weapons he can destroy this puny little creature with a thought, but he won’t just to see if this stranger’s continued existence will serve a greater purpose, a lesson taught to him by his master.
Without fear of being attacked, the soldier begins to move his camp from its location in the jungle to one closer to Xol. For a lone warrior, he carries with him an arsenal worthy of an entire regiment, with a wide variety of weaponry, communications arrays and scientific equipment among his belongings. Once his camp is set, the stranger lights a small fire, rigs up a spit above it, skewers the charred animal from before on it and whilst sitting and rotating the carcass over the flame, he begins to talk again with his captive.
“So, how much did the ‘Feds pay you to come here and kill off my team?” the soldier questions.
“I do not know of these 'Feds you speak of, nor do I have any wish to kill you, warrior.” Xol says, in an even, yet annoyed tone.
“Do you honestly expect me to believe bounty hunter scum like you? I haven’t lived for over twenty standard years on this forsaken rock, by buying into Confederate lies!” The soldier answers, furiously.
“Your anger I am sure is well warranted, but I insist that I am not your enemy, continue this interrogation and I very well will be.” Xol retorts as he opens his cloak, fanning it out to his sides. “You may search me, you will find nothing that will designate me a bounty hunter, or one of these Confederates you speak of, I assure you.”
The glint of Master Blades’ lightsaber catches the eye of the soldier; with a pause he stammers the words, “Order sixty six, it can’t be after all this time. No, it’s happening again!”
Xol senses a great fear wash over his captor, but it is not a genuine fear, it is somehow changed, manipulated by the Dark Side that resides in this place.
“Quiet your mind soldier, fear can aid you, but, in this case, it is clouding your judgment, I am not your enemy, let me help you.” Xol assures in a calming tone.
Now, weapon in hand, the soldier begins to frantically dart his attention in all directions, as if he were surrounded before returning his focus to Xol. He trains his DC-17 on his captive, his head still jerking back and forth, constantly looking over his shoulder.
“You bastard, they couldn’t execute Order sixty-six, so they let you get away, and for that I killed them.” The stranger exclaims, gun shaking in his hands. “Then I hunted you down, didn’t I. Oh yes, yes I did, I did what the others couldn’t, but orders are orders, we are created to follow orders.” He continues, maniacally.
“What were these orders soldier?” Xol asks, cautiously.
“Order sixty-six is the immediate extermination of all Jedi officers as they have been deemed traitors to the Republic and must be eliminated.” The soldier drones, as if it were recited untold times by him. Beginning to softly sob the soldier continues, “They didn’t have to die, though, if they had just followed orders we would all be alive and back with the Republic now.”
“As I said soldier, I am not your enemy, I am not even a Jedi…” Xol conveys, attempting to calm the armed man standing in front of him.
“All lies! You are Jedi, armed with one of their light blades and I cannot let you live, I have my orders!” The soldier shouts, interrupting.
“You have your orders?” Xol says mocking, “I have exhausted my patience with you.
With a raise of his hand, Xol, using his Dark Side talents begins to lift the soldier into the air, strangling him as he goes. The soldier unable to continue gripping his weapon, drops it, and starts clawing at his neck, desperate to free himself from the invisible restraint.
Gasping for air, the soldier chokes out, “Release me, I did not realize it was you, please, I know now you are not a Jedi.”
Curious to know how this crazed individual could come to such a conclusion, Xol releases the soldier from his grasp, setting him down to the ground gently.
“Thank you, sir.” The soldier still coughing replies in gratitude, “We had only heard whispers that there would be Jedi counter agents in our ranks, ones who would be similarly gifted and trained, I apologize for detaining you and will fully accept any punishment you feel is necessary sir.”
“On the contrary,” Xol responds, with a laugh. “I was never detained.” The Dark Jedi motions with his hands outstretched, as all three pylons forming his shielded prison, shudder, and finally shatter under the extreme strain put upon them. With their destruction the shield instantly disperses and Xol walks forward, towards the soldier. Placing his hand on the trooper’s shoulder, “Soldier, I know what troubles you, I too, have lost many of those I would consider close to me, like family.” Xol says sincerely, “This order you were given, did it come from Emperor Vader?”
His head tilted in confusion, the soldier replies, “I do not know whom Emperor Vader is sir, I follow the orders of Chancellor Palpatine directly, him, and no other.”
Shocked, Xol replies, “Soldier, the chancellor, ascended his position becoming emperor of the newly founded Galactic Empire some twenty years ago; he then in turn was betrayed and killed by a Sith Lord subordinate of his known as Darth Vader.
“Is this true sir? I have not received any communications to corroborate your story.” The trooper answers in disbelief.
“Yes it is true, trooper, my master has told me this, and he is very wise and knowledgeable.” Xol replies, assuredly. “Trooper, my name is Lord Xol, what is your designation?”
Assertively, the trooper stands up, at attention and in a firm assertive tone he proclaims, “DX-1165, my pod mates call me Dex, sir!”
“Very well Dex, I’d like to introduce you to my master,” Xol says, as he flicks on the holo-emitter located on his master’s lightsaber. “His holographic image should illuminate you on recent events, and for pity sake man, at ease, remember, I am not your commanding officer.”
Dex removes his helmet, his face is one of suffering and pain, his hair grayed, it is clear he has led a hard life. On the right side of his face is a formidable scar running from his hairline all the way to his chin, clearly made some time ago by the near miss of a lightsaber. His eyes are a dark brown, displaying nothing but the cold indifference of war itself. He proceeds to sit down next to the fire he built, staring with a soldiers focus at the holographic image displayed before him. Upon Xols prompting, the image of Dark Lord Blades, told Dex of the history he had missed, the defeat of the Confederacy, Rise of the Empire at the cost of the Republic, and the ascendancy of its current tyrannical overlord, Darth Vader.
Dex, clearly shattered by the information, stands up, his face blank, and walks to Xol, whom has been thoroughly inspecting Dex’s equipment during the presentation. “Lord Xol,” the trooper begins with sadness in his words, “I have lost literally everything in the service of something I know now, to be nothing but a lie. I slaughtered my pod mates, my fellow commandos to uphold the ideals of a power hungry dictator.” He stops to put his helmet back on, and pick up his DC-17, “I will do anything to bring stability back to the galaxy, your master briefly talked of your mission, and I wish to join you in your cause.”
“The offer is well received commando, but I’m afraid I arrived in a small patrol craft, not sufficient enough for taking on passengers.” Xol says, apologetically.
“Well, there’s a grounded Wayfarer transport, just about half a click southeast of this location, its more than big enough to accommodate you, your fighter and myself with extra room to spare, there is just one catch though.” Dex says, hesitantly.
“What is the catch exactly Dex?” Xol asks with a note of frustration in his voice.
“Well, clearly if she flew, I would have used her to escape this rock a long time ago, but when it crashed here it landed straight into a bog of some sort of acid, its not strong enough to eat through hull plating, but it will eat through my Katarn class armor in minutes.”
“So, you aren’t the one that crashed it Dex?” Xol’s angered tone now turning interrogative.
“It was the Jedi sir, the one in which I spoke of earlier, the one we were sent after to exterminate, as per our orders sir.” Dex replies.
Still active, his projection displaying, Master Blades suggestively states, “Perhaps the contents of this vessel will aid us in our search for the artifact, Lord Xol.”
“Perhaps you are correct, master.” Xol responds in agreement. “We shall proceed to Dex’s wrecked Wayfarer and see whether or not it is salvageable after all these years.”
After returning the lightsaber to his hand using the Force, Xol and Dex begin their march through the dense jungle towards the downed spacecraft. Dex takes point, scanning the dense foliage left to right, in a sweeping pattern. Xol simply walks behind him, following his commando guide through the brush.
As they proceed forward, the density of the jungle lessens, finally making way to a great open, expansive lake of brackish, bubbling, greenish yellow liquid. The smell is of vinegar and carrion, offending the senses of both Xol and Dex.
“Augh, that smells worse than a three-week-old dead Bantha.” Dex proclaims from underneath his helmet.
“I have never seen a Bantha, trooper, but I must agree with you.” Xol says, nodding his head in concurrence.
Once closer to the primordial bog, Xol senses a very strong connection with the Force hidden beneath it’s surface, perhaps it is just as his master said, this craft may aid him in locating the artifact he seeks upon this world.
Slinging his weapon over his shoulder, Dex pensively taps the top of his helmet, he then turns to Xol and says, “Lord Xol, as you can see, it’s well sunk into this mess. No chance of anyone getting it out, just as that Jedi probably had planned I figure.”
“Worry not, DX-1165, I am well versed in the ways of the Force, this will take but a moment.” Xol says, with a swagger. His eyes clenched behind his black helm, both hands outstretched towards the putrid lake, the Yautja Dark Lord channels all the fury and rage of the Dark Side through his body, tendrils of furious lightning crackle from his fingertips. The lightning arcs crackle, as they begin to superheat the bubbling surface of the bog. Within minutes, the air becomes thick with steamy mist as the lake itself begins to evaporate. As more and more evaporates, the hull of a space vessel becomes easier to see from beneath the steamy liquid. With Dex looking on in total shock at the display of power before him, Xol increases the intensity of the lightning, removing the last of the lake’s liquid contents in a steamy, superheated, column of mist, ascending quickly upward into the sky. All that remains inside the lake bed is a beaten, but not visibly broken, Wayfarer Transport. Xol ceases his assault, and gives into the exertion of such a task, buckling at the knees, collapsing to the ground.
It has been several hours since Xol’s collapse and when he finally awakes, he is lying on the floor of a dimly lit cargo bay. Debris scattered about it, he sees Dex working on a panel with a welding tool, sending a shower of sparks outward behind him. Something draws him to the forward most point of the bay; it feels as though the Force itself draws him there. He struggles to his feet still feeling weak from his ordeal, his vision blurry; he slowly trudges his way down the bay toward the source of power that calls to him.
The Yautja’s senses guide him to a nondescript, white box, with no discernible access point, or seam. Xol presses his open hand against the case, compelled to do so by the Force itself. Once his hand touches the case, glyphs and symbols unseen before begin to light up from the center pulsing outward all over the box. Xol steps back out of caution, but his curiosity keeps him close as the box now forms a circular opening in the top, exposing the hollow chamber inside, containing only a small, palm sized, pyramid shaped, object beaming with gold light. The presence of the Force is intoxicating as the glow shines against Xol.
Reaching for his master’s lightsaber, which Dex must have placed back on his belt, he flicks the holocron switch and asks, “Master Blades, what is this device before me and why does it have such a strong connection with the Force?”
“Fear not, Lord Xol.” His master's projected image replies, “This is the holocron of Jedi Master Tyvokka, it is the artifact you seek, it will be the first step in your long journey toward your destiny."
TO BE CONTINUED…
“What is the catch exactly Dex?” Xol asks with a note of frustration in his voice.
“Well, clearly if she flew, I would have used her to escape this rock a long time ago, but when it crashed here it landed straight into a bog of some sort of acid, its not strong enough to eat through hull plating, but it will eat through my Katarn class armor in minutes.”
“So, you aren’t the one that crashed it Dex?” Xol’s angered tone now turning interrogative.
“It was the Jedi sir, the one in which I spoke of earlier, the one we were sent after to exterminate, as per our orders sir.” Dex replies.
Still active, his projection displaying, Master Blades suggestively states, “Perhaps the contents of this vessel will aid us in our search for the artifact, Lord Xol.”
“Perhaps you are correct, master.” Xol responds in agreement. “We shall proceed to Dex’s wrecked Wayfarer and see whether or not it is salvageable after all these years.”
After returning the lightsaber to his hand using the Force, Xol and Dex begin their march through the dense jungle towards the downed spacecraft. Dex takes point, scanning the dense foliage left to right, in a sweeping pattern. Xol simply walks behind him, following his commando guide through the brush.
As they proceed forward, the density of the jungle lessens, finally making way to a great open, expansive lake of brackish, bubbling, greenish yellow liquid. The smell is of vinegar and carrion, offending the senses of both Xol and Dex.
“Augh, that smells worse than a three-week-old dead Bantha.” Dex proclaims from underneath his helmet.
“I have never seen a Bantha, trooper, but I must agree with you.” Xol says, nodding his head in concurrence.
Once closer to the primordial bog, Xol senses a very strong connection with the Force hidden beneath it’s surface, perhaps it is just as his master said, this craft may aid him in locating the artifact he seeks upon this world.
Slinging his weapon over his shoulder, Dex pensively taps the top of his helmet, he then turns to Xol and says, “Lord Xol, as you can see, it’s well sunk into this mess. No chance of anyone getting it out, just as that Jedi probably had planned I figure.”
“Worry not, DX-1165, I am well versed in the ways of the Force, this will take but a moment.” Xol says, with a swagger. His eyes clenched behind his black helm, both hands outstretched towards the putrid lake, the Yautja Dark Lord channels all the fury and rage of the Dark Side through his body, tendrils of furious lightning crackle from his fingertips. The lightning arcs crackle, as they begin to superheat the bubbling surface of the bog. Within minutes, the air becomes thick with steamy mist as the lake itself begins to evaporate. As more and more evaporates, the hull of a space vessel becomes easier to see from beneath the steamy liquid. With Dex looking on in total shock at the display of power before him, Xol increases the intensity of the lightning, removing the last of the lake’s liquid contents in a steamy, superheated, column of mist, ascending quickly upward into the sky. All that remains inside the lake bed is a beaten, but not visibly broken, Wayfarer Transport. Xol ceases his assault, and gives into the exertion of such a task, buckling at the knees, collapsing to the ground.
It has been several hours since Xol’s collapse and when he finally awakes, he is lying on the floor of a dimly lit cargo bay. Debris scattered about it, he sees Dex working on a panel with a welding tool, sending a shower of sparks outward behind him. Something draws him to the forward most point of the bay; it feels as though the Force itself draws him there. He struggles to his feet still feeling weak from his ordeal, his vision blurry; he slowly trudges his way down the bay toward the source of power that calls to him.
The Yautja’s senses guide him to a nondescript, white box, with no discernible access point, or seam. Xol presses his open hand against the case, compelled to do so by the Force itself. Once his hand touches the case, glyphs and symbols unseen before begin to light up from the center pulsing outward all over the box. Xol steps back out of caution, but his curiosity keeps him close as the box now forms a circular opening in the top, exposing the hollow chamber inside, containing only a small, palm sized, pyramid shaped, object beaming with gold light. The presence of the Force is intoxicating as the glow shines against Xol.
Reaching for his master’s lightsaber, which Dex must have placed back on his belt, he flicks the holocron switch and asks, “Master Blades, what is this device before me and why does it have such a strong connection with the Force?”
“Fear not, Lord Xol.” His master's projected image replies, “This is the holocron of Jedi Master Tyvokka, it is the artifact you seek, it will be the first step in your long journey toward your destiny."
TO BE CONTINUED…
i am not a predator fan but i do like star wars and you tell a good story. mto007
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