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

After surviving the Empire’s twisted execution and being rescued by the wily Jawa Typ. Xol still brutally wounded, now journeys to the palace of the notorious Hutt gangster,

Jabba the Hutt.

There, Orlo will reveal the entirety of his plan, perhaps illuminating the freed Yautja on the whereabouts of

Dex and Wompit.

One way or another, Xol will have to work with the vilest criminal scum in the system, perhaps even the galaxy, to continue down his path and move one step closer to overthrowing the Empire…

The Bacta patch stretched across Xol’s torso and back pulls with every shunt of the Sandcrawler, a painful reminder of his battle with the droid. Had Typ not arrived when he did, the wound suffered would have surely killed him. From where he is seated in the vehicle he can see the lifeless shell of his robotic attacker lying amidst a sea of droid parts, its soulless, dark eyes glaring through him reflecting Xol’s anger in their lenses. He knows that in order to defeat the droid he had to give in to every instinct his Jedi teachings helped him suppress. He feels ashamed, and frustrated, like as if he cannot outrun this great beast the Dark Side had unleashed upon him all those years ago.

As Jawas jabber frantically at one another, Xol can feel the Sandcrawler begin to slow down meaning Typ must be at the palace. The transport’s immense weight makes it difficult to stop abruptly. It literally must roll on its own to a halt before anyone can depart safely. Typ’s aptitude at piloting the behemoth causes the vehicle to stop just meters shy of the entrance to Jabba’s expansive, desert mansion. The Jawa crew helps Xol to his feet and escort him from the vehicle, bringing along his cast off armor and equipment with them.

As the Yautja walks down the exit ramp of the Sandcrawler, the diminutive cloaked figures set all of his items at his feet and board the vehicle again. Typ from the top of the gangway, waves as he begins retracting the ramp and sealing the door. Xol is unsure if Typ is saying goodbye or is merely leaving temporarily. Either way, the hulking, rust colored Jawa carrier still scorched from battle, turns and drives off into the distance leaving the Master Jedi alone in a sandy plain outside the gigantic estate of a renowned criminal.

Grimacing with pain, he places his armaments on his body, taking extra time for the chest and back coverings. The coarse grit of desert sand beneath each piece of armor grates against his tough hide as he walks toward the impressive buildings in the distance.

As he approaches the gate, two Tusken guards perched in a rickety, metal tower begin to open fire on the approaching Jedi. Xol’s reflexes allow him to avoid the projectiles being shot at him by a fraction of a second. Surprised, the snipers continue to fire, becoming panicked at the sight of the Yautja’s blazing red lightsaber blades erupting from the Jedi’s hands. A leap into the air brings Xol at eye level with his attackers. The Tuskens are unable to track such a fast moving target and miss with their next shots sending slugs sparking off nearby rocks and filling the air with the sound of ricochets. As he meets their gaze, Xol throws his lightsabers with a whir, striking both Tuskens simultaneously. The blades cleave the bodies of the attackers in two before returning to the Yautja’s hand. As he lands, Xol retracts his blades and mulls over his actions. He wonders if it was entirely necessary to kill them even though he knows it was done in self defense.

Freeing his mind of questions, the Jedi Master walks beyond the tower and in front of the expansive palace gate. Protruding from a circular slot in the door, an Y7 gatekeeper droid flaps its mechanical eyelid and begins to speak. “Who dares intrude upon the palace of the great Jabba?”

“Tell Jabba that I am a guest of Orlo the Hutt.”

“Sincere apologies Master Xol, the great and illustrious Jabba has been expecting you.”

As the stalk of the droid retracts into the door, the immense barrier begins to open with a squeal. Loud grinding sounds from the gate mechanisms reverberate into the empty hall ahead. Xol walks through the entryway, stepping forward into the vast hall. As he proceeds down the corridor, the gate begins to close behind him taking the sunlight with it, enveloping the Yautja in near pitch darkness. As his eyes adjust, he can see that the dark brings out curious Jawas hiding in side halls and Gamorrean guards. Their green, porcine faces show burning anger at the sight of the Jedi. As he nears the end of the large hall, he is greeted by a regal Twi’lek and two formidably armed Trandoshan guards.

“Welcomes you Jedi Master,” the Twi’lek says warmly. “Sadnesses for guard attack you. Come with me, I will take you to Jabba now.”

Keeping a sharp eye on the guards behind him, the Yautja follows the Twi’lek aide into the depths of the palace. As they walk down a staircase into the main audience chamber, Xol is overcome by the presence of a strong yet unseen Dark Side power. Sensing a trap, he focuses his mind on his lightsabers, feeling that he may need to draw them at a moments notice.

The audience chamber is a menagerie of different alien races and other oddities. Sprawled across a luxurious throne with a Kowakian monkey lizard resting on his tail, is the grotesque mass of a creature known as Jabba the Hutt. He laughs in pleasure as he watches two scantily clad dancing girls parade around in front of him. A band plays vivacious tribal like music that keeps in step with the dancer’s wildly seductive gyrations. Standing off to one side next to a carbonite slab with a human figure in it is a well armed warrior in greenish Mandalorian armor, his attention solely focused on Xol as he walks in front of the throne.

“This is the Master Jedis great Jabba,” the Twi’lek announces before stepping to the side of his master.

“Good,” the corpulent Hutt laughs. “He can join Orlo, in the holding cells of an Imperial prison ship. The Empire has paid me handsomely to lure you here Jedi scum.”

Jabba’s jovial laughter causes others to laugh in the audience chamber creating uproar all around the Yautja. From side corridors elite Stormtroopers flood out with blaster rifles already drawn and fixed on the Jedi’s position. Defensively, Xol draws his lightsabers, their hum becoming the only sound in the room as Jabba waves his hand to silence those around him. After consuming a paddy frog from a bowl adjacent to him, the massive crimelord belches and begins to speak loudly to his court.

“Master Jedi, to fight here is to be a fool. Die with some dignity and surrender to these Imperial dogs.”

“You may be vile Jabba,” Xol states calmly. “However despite your despicable interior and putrid exterior, I believe in this case you are right. I surrender.”

Seemingly shocked by this turn of events, Jabba gestures the Stormtroopers to claim their prize. Six troops break from the formation and shackle the Yautja in immense arm, wrist and leg binders as well as remove his lightsabers. Hooking a chain to the wrist restraints, they lead the Jedi Master like a captured animal from the Hutt’s court to a secret landing pad just beyond the palace grounds. The Lambda class shuttle landed there is a buzz of activity, as Stormtroopers load the vessel with supplies and other various items. Those that are not loading are taking up guard positions around a central figure, presumably a Sith officer based on his long black cloak.

“At last, an opponent worthy of my abilities,” the dark figure announces as he removes his hood from his head. “The Emperor tells me that you are a formidable opponent and that defeating you will be quite difficult. I believe that my master may be mistaken in his assessment.”

With his hood removed, the Jedi can see his opponent’s vicious form. The warrior is a young male, red skinned Zabrak with black Sith tattoos akin to Xols. His yellow eyes burn with rage and hatred as he grasps hold of his lightsaber’s long hilt, a carnivorous smile draped across his face.

“But Lord Maul,” a soldier interrupts. “We have orders that he must be taken alive.”

“Silence fool, these Jedi bested me once when I was merely the pupil but now I am the master. This creature is the closest thing the Jedi have to my might and power and I will show the Emperor that I am worthy of much more than what I have been relegated to. Soon Darth Maul will be more infamous than Vader himself! Release his manacles and give him his weapons.”

“Sir?” the trooper questions. “Are you certain that that is wise?”

“Do not question me again, or you shall not make it back from this wretched speck of a planet!” Darth Maul froths as he ignites his saber.

The twin red blades of the angered Sith’s weapon flare and hum as he approaches Xol, who is still having his shackles removed by two Stormtroopers. Darth Maul charges the restrained Yautja, a look of delight washing across his face. With a quick shift of his body, the Sith warrior flips into the air and slices downward with great Force right overtop of his Jedi target.

Seeing the attack, Xol does not wait for the soldiers to finish unbinding him and rolls out of the way of Maul’s strike. Once clear, he uses his abilities in the Force to unclasp his manacles and retrieve his lightsabers. Turning to face his attacker, instead the Yautja is met by an aerial kick as Darth Maul’s flexible boot collides with his solar plexus crumpling him over and aggravating his existing bandaged wound. Xol attempting to catch his breath, blocks a barrage of lightsaber and melee strikes. Each connection between their weapons shouts with crackles and shrill squeals. In a trick maneuver, Maul feigns a downward strike but as the Yautja moves to counter, he lashes out with his staff-like saber and strikes Xol across his carotid artery continuing to burn across his shoulder and chest. The blow makes the Jedi fall to the ground on his back gurgling with greenish blood that escapes the charred neck wound. Desperately he holds up his weapons crossed in an “X” to shield him from further strikes from Darth Maul.

As he lay on the ground, time seems to stop completely. From beyond his own consciousness Xol can hear a dark, familiar voice come to him through the Force. “Foolish Xol, you have need of me again. You cannot defeat him without me!”

Xol remembering this foreboding and evil voice replies in his mind, “I defeated you on Kashyyk. That is the day I became a Jedi Master and you were banished to Chaos!”

“You cannot defeat me Xol, only suppress me for a time, eventually I always win. I am the deepest dimension of the Dark Side. I am no more vulnerable than space itself. Now, enough foolishness! Give in to your anger and unleash me!”

“Never, you will destroy all that I have achieved.”

“What will you have achieved if you are to die here, weak and alone. You will die. Your friends will die. All that will remain is my laughter as your whole universe falls to ruin!”

“Noooooo!” Xol screams aloud as he rises up from the ground, his body surrounded by a faint reddish glow. “I shall not allow such destruction to happen!”

Green blood fills Xols eyes, as he slowly advances towards Darth Maul. His custom lightsaber blazing red, begins to swirl with black shadowy energy once more. Although his injuries are severe, he parries every strike of his agile Sith opponent. Loose cargo and even the shuttle at the end of the landing pad begin to hover a few feet above the ground as the fight continues. Maul, frustrated by the Yautja’s renewed vigor, strikes angrily at the Jedi, determined to land the killing blow. As the Zabrak’s saber makes a sideways attack Xol dropping his offhand weapon, grasps the Sith’s blade with his bare hand protected only by the Dark Side energy flowing through him. With a look of absolute shock and horror, Darth Maul freezes in place, aghast at the power of his opponent. In that fraction of a second Xol slices Maul’s weapon in two with a quick upward slash, nicking the side of his red face with the blade. As the cleaved saber falls from the Sith’s grasp. The Yautja focuses all his intense pain and anger outward through his now open palm. With a violent push of Force energy forward, Darth Maul, his soldiers, and even the Lambda class shuttle careen off far into the Dune Sea beyond the landing pad. The area is stripped bear from the eruption, only the distant shapes of the Imperials sailing through the air can be seen by Xol. He marvels as they fly nearly a kilometer before violently landing and becoming a pile of fiery wreckage.

As his adrenaline level drops, he can feel the world returning to normal. His vision is no longer a tunnel of hatred and the flow of Dark Side power has subsided. He sheathes his weapons, but before he casts his custom built saber away in frustration and shame, something stops him. He is unsure if it was his own conscience that arrested his hand or the dark power inside his foul machination.

Tyvokka once told him that the blade was a conduit to the living Force which means it can be used for good but with the emergence of the darkness inside of it, he wonders if he has awakened a power that is beyond his ability to control. Already it has brought him to the brink of his own anger and reborn within him a savage nature he thought was long dead. The Great Holocron speaks somewhat of grey Jedi, those that straddle the line between the light and dark sides of the Force. Xol cannot be certain if this were the case for him or perhaps he had become a Dark Jedi once more?

As these questions fill his waking thoughts, he sees his vision return to a white haze as he can hear distant voices approaching from behind him. His wounds are far too egregious and his energy too sapped for him to prevent succumbing to shock and unconsciousness. As his white vision cascades into blackness, the last thing the Yautja can hear is the voice growing closer.

“I cannot believe he survived,” the mystery voice says. “The boss wants him still alive, so act quick and put him in the carbonite before he becomes Krayt dragon food. The boss didn’t pay Jabba that much cred to end up with a corpse.”


TO BE CONTINUED…