STAR WARS/PREDATOR: MASTER XOL'S SAGA (PART FOUR)

After being incapacitated on Tatooine,

Master Xol is taken to parts unknown and imprisoned.

His fleeting glimpses of consciousness tell him this based on his inability to move, and the distant screams of others held in areas nearby.

With his connection to the Force still severed, the Yautja has only the stillness of his incarceration to comfort him.

For the first time since being brought to this universe by Dark Lord Blades, he is afraid…

“Wake up,” a human voice yells in Basic. “It’s time for you to meet your host. You’re our guest of honor after all.”

Xol slowly opens his eyes, the light although minimal stings his vision in this dark and dank cell. His arms stretching high above his head are bound by chains and restraints. Standing in front of him is a raggedly dressed human with a long baton, a forked prod on the end. Arcs of electricity hop from tine to tine as it rests in the jailer’s hand. The room is littered with small lizard-like creatures, which wade in the cell’s filth, snorting, hissing and nipping at one another. A large metal door just behind the human screeches open and three figures step through, two Stormtroopers and the third, an officer dressed in black.

“Good. It’s awake,” the officer exclaims. “You’re quite the little trouble maker, my friend. Had it not been for the bounty hunter that spotted you, your presence here would have gone unnoticed.”

“Where have you taken me?” Xol strains to say, his voice weary from imprisonment.

For speaking, the jailer plunges his prod into the Yautja’s side, its fork crackling as it sends pulses of pain through the Jedi.

“You really shouldn’t speak until spoken to, alien,” the officer warns. “These Outer Rim jailers can take a little too much joy in their work, and I wouldn’t want you falling unconscious again. Not until you’ve been subjected to our Emperor’s test.

“Your Emperor is dead…” Xol groans before being zapped again with the jailer’s prod.

“Yes Vader has perished, by your hand no less. However, Vader had a successor. One that shall bring this Empire into a stable and secure future, one that will be rid of you and your kind.”

With all his will, the Yautja attempts to use the Force to break free of his restraints and escape. As he feels his power surround him, it seems to be unable to manifest regardless of his level of focus.

“I can only assume by the calm across your face that you are attempting to escape,” the Imperial says with a smile. “I’m afraid that that will not be possible whatsoever. Do you see these small reptiles all around you? They are creatures called Ysalamir from the planet Myrkr, absolutely harmless but they do exhibit one phenomenal characteristic you may enjoy. They negate the use of your Jedi abilities for ten meters around them or in this case, there being such a large group about, roughly one square kilometer. An enzyme we extracted from them tipped the dart that shot you in the cantina. As you can see, it is remarkably effective. Soon all your Jedi friends will be captured just as you were and brought to justice. Today is the beginning of a glorious age in the Empire’s history, one that shall become legendary, and its first passages shall be written in your blood.”

The officer signals his guards and they begin to unhook Xol’s bindings. If the Yautja gestures in any way that the jailer does not like, he receives a shock from the prod until the soldiers are finished unhooking him. At blasterpoint the soldiers along with the jailer lead the Jedi Master out into the hallway of the cellblock. They forcibly march him through the damp tunnels of the jail, foul emanations prick at his senses as he passes by one imprisoned individual after another. At the end of the long hall, an upward inclined ramp lit by sunlight is the only visible exit and the Imperials are leading him straight toward it. Upon reaching the base, the security detail stops, leaving only the jailer to prod and guide him up the ramp into the open air. Each successive electrical surge from the weapon begins to make the Yautja lose his grip on his anger and instead give in. His mind turns to violence, how he would like to hurt the jailer for inflicting such pain on him. He summons every ounce of his resolve and attempts to quiet his mind or else he might descend back into the pit that is the Dark Side of the Force.

Ascending the incline, Xol emerges in a large open area. With the jailer directly behind him, the ramp seals over with a heavily armored door. The space seems to be an arena of some kind but does not appear to be for entertaining a live audience as it has no stands. In their place there are heavily fortified walls with Stormtroopers at guard posts every one hundred feet or so. The climate outside is warm and with two suns flying overhead, Xol can only infer that he is still on Tatooine. As TIE fighters screech over the open space, a voice begins to speak from a distant loudspeaker.

“Jedi Master Xol, the Emperor has asked me as the warden of this facility to execute you in a manner he sees fitting. In that regard, he has commissioned a very special droid to end your life. In addition, because the leader of Empire is not without mercy, he has given you the tools to defend yourself. They can be found in the center of the arena once the execution has begun. Our wise and powerful ruler hopes that you will die with some grace and honor, but he will accept surrender as well.”

Across the arena, a lone figure emerges, its blackened metallic frame partially draped in a tan colored cape. In its hand it wields a pike, the tip of which is a lightsaber emitter. With a flash, a golden blade erupts from the weapon and the droid begins to charge. As he progresses, Xol can see a small platform in the center rising up from below like the ramp did earlier. Atop it are all his pieces of equipment, armor, and weaponry. He tries to use the Force to make it to the center to avail; he cannot push beyond the Ysalamir’s influence. Instead he runs as fast as he can, headlong toward his gear and his opponent. Even though the Yautja is physically gifted even for his species, the droid is far superior in speed and intercepts Xol before he can make it to the supply pile. With cold, emotionless, red eyes staring him down, the droid strikes forward, lunging at the Jedi with his pike. Xol manages to grab hold of the weapon but to his surprise, he cannot overpower the mechanical attacker enough to take the weapon away. Instead, the droid flings the Yautja up over his head on the end of the pike and lands him several meters away just beyond his sought after equipment. Xol recovers from the harsh toss and subsequent landing, bringing himself back to his feet as the droid leaps into the air and brings his weapons down upon him. Evading the attack, the Yautja performs a roll toward his gear and grasps his lightsabers, igniting their furious red blades in time to parry another strike from the droid. Xol struggles to withstand the incredible strength of the machination and using a forward kick, pushes the attacker back away from him. While the droid is momentarily adjusting to the force of the blow, the Yautja seizes the opportunity and slashes at his opponent. To his surprise, the strike connects, but contact with the droid’s armor disrupts his lightsabers and they stop functioning.

He remembers reading of a lightsaber resistant material known as cortosis which disables weapons in this way. Xol, disarmed once more must now face this new threat without his abilities in the Force or his Jedi weapons. The Yautja backs toward his remaining gear and blocks the droids physical attacks being careful to avoid the pike’s still ignited point. Each successful block is so powerful that Xol can feel his bones rattle and weaken with each concussion. As the back of his heels touch his equipment, he quickly reaches down to pick up his bracers. Just as he barely straps them to his arms, the droid skewers his abdomen with the pike and quickly pulls it out. Painful as his wound is, his resolve to survive is far stronger, as he launches his wrist blades from his gauntlets. Their familiar song as they deploy brings back many memories and tap into his primal nature. Whilst parrying the droid’s next downward pike attack with his left blade, he punches his right blade into its chestplate. With the sound of grinding metal, the Yautja’s weapon pierces into his opponent. Sparks pour from ruptured wires, flaring from the cavity of damage, as Xol drives the blade further and further into the droid, roaring with primal aggression as the machine’s red eyes flicker and go dark. With a toss he sheds the limp mechanical body from his arm, letting it collapse to the ground at his feet.

“Most displeasing, Jedi,” the warden says over the speaker. “Now, I have no choice but to exterminate you myself.”

With a click, the speaker turns off and is replaced with the sound of sirens. Imperial troops on the walls begin opening fire against Xol, who is out in the open attempting to put on the rest of his armor and equipment. As he places his helmet upon his head, he feels a rumble beneath his feet. Fearing that the Imperials may try for an attack from the passages under the arena, he uses the cortosis armored shell of the droid as a shield, protecting him from the blaster fire raining in from the wall and allowing him to train his shoulder cannon on his surroundings. The rumbling becomes more thunderous as the seconds pass and Xol soon realizes that the vibration does not come from below but from afar. Something large is heading his way and at a rapid rate of speed.
The arena wall heaves and crumbles as the rust colored hull of a Sandcrawler gores its way through it. Soldiers on the wall are thrown aside, falling to their death on the arena floor below. The massive treads of the desert vehicle crunch debris as it drives forward into the open, coming to a stop between the wall and Xol.

Exit ramps deploy from the hulk and dozens of Jawas and droids disembark, armed with all manner of armament. The Jawas exchange fire with the Stormtroopers, both sides losing some of their own in the firefight. Droids armed with missile launchers fire at guard positions shattering them into shards of metal and fiery rubble. Some of the Imperials begin repelling the walls attempting to clash on the less restrictive arena floor, some of them being shot from their climbing lines as they descend.

From the Sandcrawler, a figure emerges that Xol recognizes to be Typ. The Jawa's distinctive oil stains on his brown, hooded cloak set him apart from the rest engaged in combat. Once Typ spots Xol, he ushers four PK series labor droids to follow. Typ barks in Jawaese at the droids as they pick up not only his remaining gear but take the disabled Imperial droid Xol had slain as well. Typ, in his trade language waves at Xol to hurry up and come with them. The Yautja distracted by the battle around him takes a moment to acknowledge the Jawa’s request and then proceeds to follow.

Blaster fire pummels the Sandcrawler, shearing metal plates away from its hull and burning holes straight through its body as the Yautja scrambles up the entry ramp and proceeds inside the mammoth vehicle. With the shout of “Utinni!” from Typ, any remaining Jawas still in combat, fall back and enter the Sandcrawler. With a lurch the gigantic treads of the transport start propelling the vehicle back towards the hole it made previously in the prison wall. Xol, cramped inside along with the Jawas, curls into a ball for protection as blaster fire continues to rip through the vehicle’s hull plating and bounce around in the passenger area.

“Typ I appreciate the rescue, but I hope you have a plan for getting us out of here,” Xol says, his words shaky due to the Sandcrawler’s turbulent movement. “The Empire will have us in moments with TIE fighters or even a few speeders.”

The Jawa with his head tilted, takes in what Xol has said and responds by shaking his head and pressing the activation switch on a small holoprojection wrist device. A hologram flutters from the now lit pad, but is unable to fully manifest. With a sound of disappointment and an angry smack to the projector, Typ rights the image and allows the communication to go through. Displayed in front of Xol in a pale blue is an unexpected face, the tattooed crimelord of Ord Mantell, Orlo the Hutt.

Translated by his protocol droid Orlo begins to speak, “Greetings Xol, that Imperial scum won’t be troubling you any longer. This is Hutt space and the Empire has no business setting up a base on one of our worlds. As a courtesy to me, the local crimeboss Jabba has allowed me to attempt your rescue in exchange for some special favors done on his behalf. I will require your services to repay Jabba and also at the same time we will rescue your friends as they were brought elsewhere by the Empire. Your Jawa friend is foolishly brave to have contacted me and enlisted my aid but I believe that we both can benefit from this arrangement.”

“What exactly do I have to do Orlo?” Xol inquires, suspicious of the blue Hutt. “I am not the same Yautja you met all that time ago.”

“Do not worry Master Xol there will be no need for you to worry. I have your deepest concerns in mind when asking you to complete this task for me. However, we cannot discuss this over such an unsecure channel. Your little friend will bring you to Jabba’s Palace here on Tatooine. There we can discuss the matter in greater detail. In the meantime, rest well Jedi and let the magnificent Orlo take care of all the details.”

As the hologram disappears and the display of the projector darkens, Xol can only wonder what lies ahead for him and Typ as they must delve deep into a criminal underworld he left behind.

TO BE CONTINUED…