However, the assaulting Empire greatly underestimates their seemingly primitive opponents and the battle is far from over.
Xol still traverses this harsh environment in search of anyone left alive, so that a counterattack can be launched, that is if there is anyone else but him left alive at all…
Scaling the tough bark of a wroshyr tree, Xol scans the dark sea of green flora on the forest floor, desperate for any sign of activity. Unable to see or hear anything of note, even with the advanced sensors in his helmets HUD, he continues climbing. He feels like an insect as he ascends the massive tree, occasionally taking up lookout position on one of the giant fungus growths that grow outward, forming into organic shelves along its surface.
Suddenly, standing out in contrast to the green surroundings, a blue figure can be seen running at a hastened pace through the brush. It is a male Nelvaanian hunter, Wookiee bowcaster slung over his back, running at full sprint and hopping over any obstacles he can. Xol can see that the hunter is occasionally glancing behind himself, seemingly looking out for something.
Then, before the Yautja even has a chance to fathom what he could be running from, a sound answers him, the sound of repulsorlift engines at full throttle. As the noise grows closer, the Nelvaanian, clearly exhausted, unleashes a frustrated, angered roar and grabs the bowcaster from his back. As the roar continues to echo throughout the trees, it melds with the echoing of the fast approaching speeders. From his superior vantage point, Xol can see two Imperial speeder bikes heading toward the hunter’s location at breakneck speed. The scout troops seated aboard them navigate the tight forest obstacles with expert precision. As they near their Nelvaanian target, the speeders open fire with their light blaster cannons sending streaks of red energy across the forest floor. The shots come close but do not connect with the blue hunter, and before they can fire a second volley, they rush past their target and wheel around for another pass. As they made the wide turn, Xol can see the hunter exposing himself from cover to take aim at one of the bikes. Fearful that the second soldier will see him and land a shot against him, the Yautja arms his shoulder cannon. The triangular reticule appears on his HUD, tracking the second biker, adjusting for speed at it acquires a fix. The unused energy weapon’s servos whine with stiffness as it unfolds and moves in coordination with Xol’s helmet tracking.
With a tremendous crackle, the plasma cannon discharges, sending a ball of fiery blue energy racing down toward it’s intended target from the tree tops. At the same time, the hunter in the bush below discharges a blast from the bowcaster, its green arrow-like bolt colliding with the pilot of the first bike. Almost in unison both Imperials are struck and their uncontrolled speeders veer chaotically off course and collide with the surrounding trees, exploding on contact into fiery piles of rubble.
Surprised at the demise of the second bike, the Nelvaanian looks around the trees panicked. His fear overtaking him, he begins to run again, sprinting in the same direction as before. Xol, convinced that he has terrified the warrior, jumps from his current position in the tree down to the forest floor below, using the Force to slow his descent as he falls.
He knows his Nelvaanese is not great but he tries yelling out to the fleeing hunter anyway. “Wait, stop! I’m with the Alliance.”
The blue warrior stops, turns around and yells something back. Due to the distance and Xol’s lack of aptitude in the language, what is said does not make any sense to him. He repeats it aloud to himself hoping that the extra thought will aid in his translation. “What does he mean by ‘great bird’?”
“What great bird?” he yells at the Nelvaanian. The warrior is too far for Xol’s words to be heard. Still puzzled by the statement he begins walking in the same direction, following the blue lupine’s tracks carefully. As he traverses the thick foliage, his train of thought is broken by heavy mechanical sounds characteristic to the Imperial AT-ST. At that moment he understands the Nelvaanese warning, ‘great bird’ was referring to one of these bipedal assault walkers. “Why couldn’t he just spell AT-ST?” Xol asks himself as he crouches down trying to hide from the approaching war machine.
Crashing through the brush, into the open area of forest, a camouflage painted hulk emerges, its twin blaster cannons and various side armaments panning back and forth, scanning the terrain for any sign of life. Its narrow slit shaped view ports like sinister eyes, scowling with evil intent. As it plods through the undergrowth, it leaves only crushed and uprooted plant life in its wake, a symbol of the Empire’s impact since they set up bases here on Kashyyyk.
Xol can see through his helmet’s heat vision setting that there are three occupants of the vehicle. This is peculiar because the vehicle, he knows, can only accommodate two, one pilot and a gunner. The third he can see is situated in such a way that he believes them to be a captive. If he hopes to destroy such an imposing vehicle, he cannot be reckless and risk the life of the prisoner kept onboard. He waits patiently for the Imperial walker to get closer to him before making his move.
As the long, mechanical legs of the machine stride overtop of Xol, he forgets for just a moment that he is attacking a vehicle and feels as though he is back in his youth hunting large animals with his father. He waits just a few more moments before emerging from the veil of green fern he hides beneath. Then, as the AT-ST exposes it back to him, he leaps from his hiding place and strikes. With expert timing and focus, Xol throws his lightsaber toward the legs of the walker. He ignites the blade in midair, but instead of a spear like throw that would only impale; the Yautja chooses to spin the blade as it flies creating a circular saw-like motion, effectively hacking off both of the AT-ST’s legs at the knee joint in one motion. The lightsaber glides back to Xol’s waiting hand after the walker is sent toppling over. With a jump, Xol leaps on top of the now motionless pilot compartment that lies flat on the forest floor. He continues to watch the movements of the Imperials inside with his heat vision, as he plunges his lightsaber into the top of the downed walker, cutting a circle around the sealed exit hatch. Once the circle is complete, the hot, slag edged hatch is gripped by Xol, pulled away and thrown next to the vehicle. Through the smoke filled hole, the Yautja Jedi can see the Imperial pilot and his gunner in total shock, scrambling to find their side holsters where they keep holdout blasters. Before they are able to arm themselves Xol uses his telekinetic abilities to collide the two man crew together, knocking both of them unconscious in the process. With his long reach, he grabs all the occupants and pulls them up and out of the still searing hot hole in the roof of the vehicle, setting them down next to the walker among the plants. Before leaving the cockpit, the Jedi Master sends a short burst of lightning coursing through the main control panel of the AT-ST, destroying any chance the unconscious crew will have of contacting reinforcements anytime soon.
Having dealt with the ‘great bird’ completely, Xol hops down from the top of the smoking wreck and assesses the captive he has freed. He is glad to find that the prisoner is relatively unharmed and conscious. It is a human male, not very old but definitely an adult, wearing a uniform of the Rebellion. Feeling safe in doing so, Xol uses the force to unlock the binders on the young mans wrists and ankles and removes an adhesive patch gag that was placed over his mouth.
“Are you okay soldier?” The Jedi says, concerned.
“Yes general I am. Thank you for coming to my rescue,” the battle weary rebel replies. “I was heading with some survivors to our emergency rally point when we were hit by an imperial search and destroy squad. I was the only one taken alive, the Ewoks and Nelvaanian’s that survived the initial attack scattered into the woods and were being pursued by Stormtroopers.”
“I saw one of them, which is actually how I came to encounter that walker and rescue you. Do you think you are able to take me to the rally point?”
“Of course, sir. Most of the forces here were not made aware of its location because its construction under General Madine has only been recently completed. I was a part of the set up so I know exactly where it’s located.”
“Who else was made aware before the attack?”
“Just Jedi Master Yoda, Admiral Ackbar, General Antilles and any of their direct support staff. The remaining generals and senior staff were supposed to have been debriefed today, just shortly before the Empire attacked.”
“That sort of coincidence makes me uneasy soldier. We better get moving to that rally point where our forces are regrouping before this battle and ultimately, this war is completely lost.”
With urgency hastening their pace, Xol and the rebel soldier bushwhack as quickly as they can, avoiding patrols of Imperial soldiers as they encounter them. Within a few hours, shortly before nightfall they reach the outskirts of a camp. Its prefab buildings dimly lit and covered in camouflage mesh and leaf litter to hide them from aerial searches. A good number of people have made their way here, nearly a third of the camp has gathered here. As Xol and his companion approach the camp, he can hear the whine of blasters powering up as well as feel the sharp jabs of spearheads being poked at his lower legs.
“Alright, that’s far enough. Identify yourselves or you will be shot,” says an unseen man behind them. Agreeing Ewokese whoops of ‘Yesh’ can also be heard, some even imitating blaster fire to prove their seriousness. Xol raises his hands as a sign of good faith before announcing himself. Upon doing so, the voice then replies, “Sorry Master Xol, we have to be extra careful these days.”
“I understand completely,” the Yautja replies as he lowers his arms. “Who is in command currently?”
“Right now, it’s General Garbacca. He is in the command tent down the way sir.”
“Thanks soldier, can you make sure this young man with me is brought to the medic, he has been through quite an ordeal today.”
“At once, sir!”
With a firm salute, the soldiers walk over to what is currently the camp’s hospital, while Xol makes his way past the rows of tired and battle scarred troops and civilians sitting around campfires. As he passes, some who catch his gaze, light up as if the Yautja were a savior to them. He acknowledges any who greet him with a simple wave before coming to the closed door of the command tent. The guard standing in front, immediately recognizes the Wookiee-sized Jedi and goes into the tent, presumably to announce his arrival. Within a few short moments the soldier reemerges and while holding the tent’s door open, ushers Xol inside.
Upon entering, he is greeted by familiar faces of all of the inhuman chieftains and Dex, tightly seated around a makeshift conference table with Garbacca at the head of it.
“Jedi General, it is good to see you. Please join us.” Garbacca says as a protocol droid standing behind him translates. “We were not sure of your whereabouts but now that you are here, you can assist us in the planning of our counterattack and escape.”
“It would be an honor general,” Xol replies as he takes a seat.
On the table is a small holoprojector, smaller than the one used in the command center back in the old camp. Its display is already active, showing a topographical cross section of Kashyyyk’s forest with symbols displaying tactical data of both the Alliance and the Empire.
“Honored warriors gathered here,” Garbacca begins. “We have been assaulted and our back is broken. Many of our forces are still out in the dark forests of this place, my homeland, without any idea whether they are alone or not. These cut off units are being hunted down by the Empire’s ground forces and exterminated. Such a battle must not continue, if we are to be victorious. However, we can make tactical use of the Imperials being so spread out. They are overconfident and believe us to be disorganized rabble. They believe they have struck the heart of our command here on Kashyyyk. Both of these false beliefs will be the key to their undoing. We believe they have not found our true command base in the canopy despite the fact that we are unable to establish an uplink with them. This might be because our command believes the Empire will pick up any communications and are actively searching out any of our military chatter. The fleet is sending transports to ferry us to Yavin 4 for our attack there, however, the Empire’s blockade will be waiting for them along with these two ground based ion cannons they have just erected here and here.”
The Wookiee general points to some sort of installation on the map just to the north of the camp before he continues.
“The Empire has had military sites on Kashyyyk for quite some time now, which is half the reason I proposed we set our refugee camp here, so that we may as most of my brethren have done, hide right under their noses until it is time to attack. Most of their military here though is ground based and is located on the other side of the planet. In order to ensure our escape we must take their cannon positions and surprise their blockade ships with a barrage of disabling ion from their own weapons! Once the blockade is disabled, we can begin rounding up all of the survivors and escape in our transports once they arrive.”
“Garbee,” Dex inquires. “Er, I mean General Garbacca. How can we effectively mount an attack against the Empire’s position if we can’t so much as use our comlinks without being discovered?”
“I have that figured out commander,” the Wookiee responds, ignoring Dex’s slip of the tongue. “Chief Wicket has devised of a clever means of communication even the Empire won’t see coming. Each platoon will be matched up with an Ewok brave who is fluent in understanding Basic. Each of these braves will be equipped with a war horn, and distinctive tones will be used to signify some basic battle orders. It’s unorthodox and somewhat primal, but, in lieu of traditional communication, it is all we have.”
“Order us where weesa needin to be goin’ and weesa being there!” General Tarpals says with much excitement. “Da Gungans havin da boomah’s to spare and weesa ready to fight!”
“I appreciate your enthusiasm general,” Garbacca replies. “However, this plan will not succeed unless everyone does as instructed. Reckless behavior will lead to defeat.”
The Wookiee presses a button on the holoprojector that displays new symbols near the old ones signifying the placement of troops for the attack plan. After allowing the war council to view the information for a few minutes, he continues his plan. “Forces consisting of all of our races will strike the installation from all sides. It will thin us out significantly, but the four pronged attack should provide us with the elements of surprise and confusion we so desperately need. The Empire will be taken off-guard and try to bring in some of their patrols for assistance. Hopefully, by that time, your forces will have purged their defenses and will have taken the complex before they arrive, allowing you to use the defenses of the base to fend off their reinforcements. Once you commence your attack, I will lead a strike team comprised of myself, General Xol, Commander Kamino and some elite troops into the heart of the main command center to seize control of the cannons. Using the ongoing battle as a distraction, Oevvaor catamarans will drop us in behind the base defenses. Once the cannons have been taken, we will immediately begin firing them. Upon their firing, all forces will make an ordered retreat back to the camp to await our transports for evacuation. This is our battle plan. Prepare your men; there is much to be done before we mount our attack. May the Force be with you gentlemen, move out.”
Garbacca, now finished speaking, stands up signaling the end of the briefing. The delegates file out in an orderly fashion, immediately shouting orders in various tongues as they emerge from the command tent. The whole camp becomes ordered chaos as troops become divided up into separate groups by their commanding officers. Each one will receive a briefing similar to the one Xol had just witnessed only broken down simpler so each soldier will know what they are responsible for. Though no one utters a word about it, Xol senses an intense feeling of fear among the soldiers, their minds preoccupied with survival.
The Yautja, like all the camp’s soldiers, must now attend his own separate meeting on his team’s specific role in the upcoming battle. Xol, Dex, and roughly about thirty of the camp’s highly trained soldiers receive instruction on the Ewok horn signals that will be used, as well as a quick tutorial in some basic command hand gestures, so all the members of the strike team regardless of their competence in other languages will be able to understand one another’s commands.
Once the meeting concludes, the Yautja is accompanied by his long time friend, Dex Kamino. The pair walk side by side in silence through the camp, taking in all the information they had just been told. Only a few minutes later, the veteran clone soldier can no longer tolerate the quiet. He turns to his large comrade and says, “Gr'rit'Xol, I have known you for a very long time, and ever since the first day I met you, you have been gifted in the Force and I know you Force-users have a tendency not to be afraid, but I gotta ask.”
The clone hesitates finishing his sentence as the Yautja stops and slowly turns his head towards him. As Dex still holds back the words, rolling them around in his mouth like pieces of hot food, Xol places his hand on his friends shoulder and replies, “No, I do not fear death DX-1165. The thought must be troubling you though, especially if you have chosen to use my full name to address me after all this time.”
“I am troubled by it. You and I both know that I am usually so cavalier with my own mortality and we’ve been in some hard scrapes together.”
“So, then my dear friend, why is it that it troubles you now?”
“I’m getting older, Xol. In fact, I’m probably the only one of my kind left and frankly I think a lot about the future. I think about settling down on some Outer Rim world with a nice girl and starting a family, never having to raise a blaster in service of anything but my family. It seems though that my past will forever doom my future, and ultimately I fear that I will die alone Xol, with no one to remember me.”
“There is nothing to fear old friend, that business on Rakata Prime was another life, one governed by the orders of an evil force. You are no more that man than I am the homicidal, brutish, assassin you had met on that same planet’s surface. We have both changed for the better, in spite of our former transgressions. I have no doubt whatsoever that your path does not end here Dex. Now, if you decide to argue with a Jedi Master, you do so at your own risk.”
“Master Xol, are you cracking jokes now? A Yautja with a sense of humor, the Empire doesn’t stand a Mynock’s chance in the Maw Cluster.”
The two share a jovial laugh only friends can truly understand and appreciate, as they continue to walk through the camp. With Xol not assigned any temporary accommodation, Dex takes him aboard the landed Wayfarer transport and gives him the use of his old quarters there. Inside, other refugees of the base camp attack are kept. They sleep wherever a meter or so of floor can be spared, sometimes huddled in groups sharing thermal blankets. Most are children, ranging from newborns to older, pre-adolescent youths. Typ can be seen talking with one of the many medical droids overseeing the care of the younglings. Wompit, on the other hand, is sleeping in the corner of the cargo bay with several woklings snuggled up against him. They rock back and forth with each heaving breath from the mammoth Mantellian. As Xol makes his way through the dimly lit corridor, he occasionally sees some of the children that are still awake, hide from sight as he approaches and then when his back is to them, he can hear those same children whispering tall tales and false legends about him. It brings a smile to his face knowing that with all that has gone on children can still imagine great, fantastical things, never losing their ability to dream.
As he comes to his room, a sense of relief washes over him. After all that this day has brought, he feels thankful to have a place still in this galaxy to feel safe. As he enters, the light flickers on revealing a bare room with its simple bunk. Exactly as he had left it he thinks as he removes his armor and neatly sets it on the floor next to his bunk. He rolls his shoulders, trying to flex the fatigue and tightness from them before going to bed. As he slips under his thermal sheet, he lies there, staring up at the ceiling. His thoughts go to Anya Kuro, whom he hadn’t seen since shortly after the battle in the encampment began. He felt no disturbance in the Force that would suggest she perished, though admittedly, his attunement to tremors is not nearly as sensitive as most Jedi of his position. Eventually, after his minds many thoughts begin to quiet, Xol finally falls asleep.
The Yautja’s slumber is tormented by frightful, nightmarish images of future events. He sees the demise of all those closest to him at the hands of the Empire. Eventually he is rattled awake from the vividly intense image of his own death by Darth Vader. As he shoots up in bed, he can still hear the rhythmic, steady breaths of his imaginary assassin for a moment or two before finally realizing his surroundings. Heavy intakes of air begin to relax Xol, as he tries to calm himself down. As his eyes open, he finds that a subtle light source from next to his bed is making it difficult for him to adjust. This confuses him as he has no bedside light nor did he leave anything on that would emit such a low level of illumination. His sight becomes clearer after a few moments, allowing the realization that the source of the light was not emitted by anything mechanical but, from a spiritual form standing in front of him.
“Hello there, young one.” The Force ghost says before Xol can speak. “Do not be frightened. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi”
“Yes, I have heard of you.” Xol responds. “You were a general during the Clone Wars and a member of the Jedi High Council on Coruscant during the time of the Republic.”
“I also trained a young man named Anakin Skywalker before he became that vile instrument of the Empire, Darth Vader.”
“I knew some information of Vader’s origins Master Kenobi, my former Master, the Dark Lord called Blades told me of them. However, I did not know he was your Padawan learner.”
“Yes, he was a dear friend and a far greater Jedi than I.”
“Excuse me master, forgive me if I come across as sounding insensitive but, why have you come here?”
“It is not I, young Xol, which has come here. It is you that has called me here.”
“I’m sorry, Master Kenobi but I don’t understand how that can be possible.”
“Your lightsaber master Jedi, it is a conduit through which the living Force flows. It, like you has a dark origin but, you now both serve the philosophies of the Jedi Order. When your recent premonitions tormented you, you called out for help through the Force and in response your weapon brought me to your aid.”
“I didn’t call out to anyone. Some nightmares roused me from sleep, that’s all.”
“That in itself was your cry for assistance, from a certain point of view. Those bad dreams were actually glimpses into the future, albeit a terrible one where there is much suffering and pain, but glimpses nonetheless.”
“So in the future, I die, and Vader’s Empire crushes this rebellious Alliance?”
“Not necessarily Xol, I am sure Yoda must have taught you to be mindful of the future, has he not?”
“Yes he has, however I never thought images so horrible could be visions of a true future.”
“The future is an ever-changing thing, Master Xol. This future you saw will only happen if you falter and give in to doubt upon your next encounter with Darth Vader. You must be strong in your connection with the Force if you are to defeat him.”
“Perhaps I can bring him back to the Light side, return him to his Jedi roots.”
“An ambitious undertaking but ultimately a fool’s errand, he’s more machine now than man, twisted and evil.”
“I must try Obi-Wan. Master Yoda once told me that he was capable of great love, so great that it destroyed him. That to me indicates at least some good inside of him.”
“I hope that you are right Xol. I warn you though, there may be nothing left of Anakin Skywalker in Darth Vader. The Dark Side turned him against all who he cared for including the woman he loved. In fact, I myself saw him lash out at her in anger, nearly killing the young woman in the process.”
“Tell me about her Obi-Wan, Yoda did not speak of her in great detail.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Humor an inquisitive Jedi mind, I wish to understand an aspect of an enemy’s character through her that I cannot learn in any holocron.”
“Well alright then, for curiosity sake. She was a queen when Anakin and I met her, a strong noble leader of a peaceful people, the Naboo. She wasn’t afraid to fight, even if it was unwise to do so. As the years passed, she became a senator on Coruscant while Anakin was becoming a great Jedi in the order. When they reunited, a secret romance formed which then turned to marriage and partnership, forbidden by the Jedi way. The possessiveness of his love for her grew however; I was blind to see it because he hid his thoughts from me so well. She even became pregnant and still I was so foolish to not have seen, but the Clone Wars were a tumultuous time for everyone in the galaxy I suppose. As the Republic fell and the Jedi Temple with it, I went to see Padme to tell her of Anakin’s fall to the Dark Side at the hands of the Sith. Her disbelief was apparent, but so was her concern. It was at that moment that I realized that the child she carried was Anakin’s and the two of them had been in love all this time. When I then inquired where I might find Anakin, she understandably told me that she didn’t know. She was a fighter as I said, and I knew that very same tenacity would drive her to seek the truth for herself. So, when she boarded her personal vessel and departed Coruscant, I snuck aboard. She brought us to Mustafar where Anakin Skywalker had now from my point of view had fully become Darth Vader in spirit. It was there that Amidala confronted him and in so doing he lashed out in anger, just as I had said earlier. I feel that my presence prompted his attack. He would have killed her had I not interceded. She was rescued by her droids as I fought with Vader, mortally wounding him in the process. Thinking Darth Vader dead, I took Padme to a medical facility on Polis Massa where I knew we would be safe. There, she gave birth to her twins, Luke and Leia before dying it seemed, from a broken heart. Under the guidance of Master Yoda, the children’s existence was hidden from the Emperor. Leia was to stay on Alderaan with Bail, while I hid Luke with the Lars family of Tatooine. I personally stayed on the desert planet to ensure that one day the boy could be trained as a Jedi like his father.”
“Has he become a Jedi Obi-Wan? Did you train him?”
“No, I never managed to do so. The Emperor somehow discovered the existence of the boy and sent Darth Vader to execute him. When I learned of this I protected the boy the best I could but I failed in my attempt. I was slain by Darth Vader as Luke made his escape in a landspeeder. That was the last I ever saw of him.”
“Then he is dead? What about his sister?”
“I do not believe either of them to be dead although I admit I cannot sense everything through the Force, I do not detect their presence here in the Void. I believe they are still alive but in hiding.”
“Let us hope you are correct Master Kenobi, if I fail at least there might still be some hope for the galaxy.”
“Indeed Xol, there might be. Have I answered all of your queries?”
“Yes I believe so Obi-Wan, thank you.”
“Then I shall let you return to slumber, and forget not what I have taught you in our short time together. May the Force be with you, always.”
The final words of the Jedi master fade into the distance as his ethereal image recedes into darkness. Xol sits on the edge of his bunk for just a minute, reflecting on what he has just learned before lying back and attempting to fall asleep once again.
It is early morning when Master Xol awakens; his head still a fog from his conversation only hours earlier with Obi-Wan Kenobi. He hungrily downs a food ration and some water before affixing his armor to his body, mentally preparing himself for battle as each piece slides into place. With his helmet firmly atop his head, he exits his quarters. He looks back at them, memorizing their every simple contour, just in case his fate should not bring him back here ever again.
The once crowded halls of the ship the night before, now lay bare, as everyone has already begun to evacuate. The still quiet of the ship fills the Yautja with unease. As he makes his way down the ramp from the cargo bay area, his anxiety turns to relief at the sight of Dex in his full battle armor waiting for him at the bottom.
“Good morning heinous!” Dex laughs, “How did you sleep?”
“I had great nightmares 1165, ones that caused me great suffering.” Xol responds in a somber tone.
“I’m flattered Master Xol, but you really gotta stop dreamin’ about me. People are starting to talk.”
Shaking his head at the level of sarcastic humor his friend can muster on this day, Xol simply pats Dex on his head condescendingly and walks toward camp.
With Dex right behind him, the pair makes their way past the sea of assembling soldiers and meets up with their Special Forces squad next to twenty camouflaged Wookiee catamarans. As Xol and Dex arrive, they are met with sturdy handshakes and greetings from other members of the team. Xol can still sense the great fear among the soldiers, and his thoughts once more turn to worry as he peers out over the Rebel encampment. It is a sight that has become strangely familiar to him, an army assembling for war. He knows that this battle must be fought if they are to be successful, but his thoughts are fixed on the cost. How many more must fade away so that Darth Vader may be brought to justice, he thinks.
His train of thought is derailed with the arrival of Garbacca and some elite berserkers. The Wookiee general being a berserker himself is adorned in traditional battlefield attire of his people. If there is any fear in Garbacca’s mind that this plan will not succeed, Xol and his powerful connection with the Force cannot sense it.
Garbacca turns toward the camp and with raised arms he begins to speak. “Today my friends,” the golden furred Wookiee begins. “The Empire will know our might. We shall wipe them from this world, and begin an inevitable chain reaction that will one day soon bring about their downfall! I am no Senator, nor am I a wise and noble Jedi, I am merely a soldier of my people, and for them I will lead you today so that they and others who call us friend may enjoy a life free of the Empire’s tyranny. Strike hard and make them regret ever setting foot on our homeland, May the Force be with you all this day!”
A roar of cheers and whoops erupt from the camp as the Wookiee general lowers his arms. With a wave of his hand he signals Xol, Dex, and the other elite troops to board the catamarans. With a roar of their repulsorlift and forward thrust engines the group is soon skyward.
As they pull away from the ground, Xol can see the army moving through the forest towards the Imperial outpost. The Yautja marvels at the vehicle he sits in, its hull only lightly plated with armor over its original wooden frame. It is a peaceful craft put to war and a sign of how great a resolve the Alliance has. As he peers out over the forest rushing before him, he glances around at his comrades, seated in his and other craft. The faces of the soldiers are all eerily calm, their once strong feelings of fear being replaced by a sense of purpose.
The catamarans bank sharply as they widely reel around the target destination. Each passenger aboard scans the tree line for signs of enemy contact as they make their way to the north corner of the base. While the ground forces attack from the west, south and east Garbacca’s plan would have Xol and the others come in from the unprotected north and enter the base. The Yautja feels an ever growing disturbance in the Force as they make their final approach. Something is not right.
Trusting in his instincts, Xol instructs the pilot to take evasive action. Just as the craft dips its nose down descending further toward the canopy, heavy blaster fires erupts from the trees. Red bolts of destructive power collide with the fragile wooden aircraft and shatter each one they strike. Debris from the explosions sends some other craft tumbling toward the ground including the catamaran containing General Garbacca and Dex. Sadness and anger begin to fill Xol’s mind, his Yautja instinct for revenge rising to the surface. Keeping his focus he deploys both his lightsabers and orders the pilot to head full speed in the direction of the Imperial target.
As the groups of remaining catamarans break off in every direction, Xol deflects what incoming blaster fire he can from striking his craft. Suddenly, an engine explodes into a ball of flame in the rear as it is struck by enemy fire. The Yautja turns his attention to the back of the craft while the pilot attempts to regain control after the loss of one of the rear thrust engines.
From behind, darting skillfully through the canopy of the forest Xol can see two Imperial Scout Troopers aboard speederbikes. They strafe the transport again, striking one soldier who falls from the craft to his death. As the speeders move themselves into position to strike at another engine, Xol moves to intercept. The catamaran maneuvers from side to side, evading incoming fire and obstacles. Xol manages to keep his footing and parries the next barrage of blaster bolts from the speeders. The Yautja knows that he must do something to stop these attackers permanently if he and those aboard hope to make their final destination alive.
Surrendering his lightsaber defense, he sheathes the blades and holsters the weapons quickly. He then begins to focus his mind in the use of the Force and just as the Imperial troopers are about to again open fire, he rips the repulsorlift engines from the speederbikes. The two soldiers drop from the sky, plummeting to the ground below, with their screams of panic trailing behind them.
Xol steadies his footing as he crosses from the stern of the catamaran to the bow holding onto its frame every time an evasive maneuver is made. With each passing moment, he feels as though the chassis will crumble and fall away from beneath his feet. The pilot still struggles to maintain control of the craft as the Yautja Jedi approaches him from behind.
“General Xol, I am sorry sir, but we are in no shape to land at the scheduled LZ and safely make a dust-off.” The pilot says, dismayed. “I even question whether or not I can land her safely sir!”
“How far are we from the LZ trooper?”
“Not far general, but like I said sir, I doubt I can put her down safely.”
“That is fine soldier you won’t need to set down, just get me there.”
“Yes sir, hold on to something, I am going to push the engines to their limits, so it may get a bit rocky sir.”
“Do what you must pilot, I will protect you.”
With a hard shift to the throttle from the pilot, the catamaran increases drastically in speed, sending plumes of white smoke billowing from one of the two remaining thrust engines. The sudden acceleration shakes the craft violently sending any loose items flying out of the back of the vehicle while Xol and the soldiers aboard hold on tight. The Yautja’s long black Jedi robe flaps behind him in the wind like a flag in a storm. As the speed becomes constant, the pilot turns back towards Xol and says, “We are almost at the LZ, general.”
“Good pilot,” Xol replies. “You can make your run now, when I am clear, make your escape to the rendezvous point.”
“Yes sir, and good luck Master Jedi. May the Force be with you sir!”
As Xol checks himself over for all his equipment, the pilot puts the craft into a steep downward descent. As the catamaran dives, plunging ever farther past the tree canopy, the Empire’s installation emerges like a plain of cold, grey metal amidst a sea of green. The red flashes of blaster fire and explosions can be seen below as the Rebel Alliance forces are locked in battle. The braying of Ewok horn calls can be heard as hundreds of soldiers storm the Imperial battlements.
The pilot levels off the craft as he reaches the middle of the base, his speed is unchanged as he weaves through turbolaser turrets, control towers and any other obstacle that stands before him. Xol staring out at the installation, his gaze fixed on the two ion cannons rising high in the distance, he takes a last breath and leaps off of the speeding transport head first toward the ground. It is not long before he reaches terminal velocity as he plummets headlong toward the installation below. As he nears the ground, Xol channels the Force through his whole body. Fearless, at the moment anyone else would collide with the ground and be killed instantly, the Yautja Jedi uses the phasing techniques taught to him by Master Kuro and passes right through the solid surface of the base.
Xol continues to descend more than a kilometer before he finally reaches an underground service tunnel that he believes should lead him right to the ion cannons main control center. As he phases through the ceiling, he slows his descent using the Force allowing himself to set down gently onto the floor of the hall. Once there, he scans around quickly for signs of the enemy. Feeling that he hasn’t been detected or is currently being monitored, he uses another secret Jedi technique Anya taught him, the power to bend light and sound around him so that he is sufficiently cloaked. The ability has always brought him joy as it reminds him of his own people’s cloaking technology they would use on hunts. Now concealed fully, he makes his way toward his intended target.
To not alert anyone to his presence, Xol chooses to phase through every door or obstructing wall that is in his way, so that no one grows suspicious that doors are being opened by some unseen force. As he travels through an endless maze of halls and side tunnels he encounters the occasional technical officer or a group of patrolling Stormtroopers. His cloak, shielding him from detection by them, allows him to pass by them in the halls unnoticed. Even droids do not pay him any mind as he winds his way through the installation.
Within minutes, he arrives at the heavily sealed entrance to the ion cannons control area. The impressive armored door is curiously unguarded. Suspicious, Xol stretches out with the Force to see if he can sense the presence of anyone on the other side. He senses something familiar, an evil he knows all too well. Darth Vader lies behind that door. With determination swelling his heart, he phases through the great, metal portal, his lightsabers lusting to be ignited.
Upon reaching the opposite side of the door he is greeted to the sight of a humongous control room, holoprojected displays show the battle above, while two massive energy generators fill the far wall. Standing next to an officer leaning over a console is Darth Vader.
Elated by another confrontation with his predestined foe, Xol charges the Dark Lord. As he surges ahead he draws and triggers his lightsabers, the hum of their blades sing as the Yautja lashes out at his adversary. As if sensing the attack, Vader parries both strikes expertly at the last moment, whilst simultaneously pushing the immense Jedi warrior back with the Force.
Surprised by his quick reflexes, Xol did not brace for the push and sails across the room, his armor crashing against the metal wall, a concave dent left where he impacted. When he regains his footing, he finds Vader gone, escaped through some unseen passageway. The only Imperial left in the room is the officer, who is trying to reach a secondary console to trigger an alarm. Before he can do so, Xol begins to manipulate the officer’s mind.
“No alarm is required,” the Yautja says with his hand in a raised position toward the man, “you will relinquish your command codes to me.”
“I will give you my command codes,” the officer repeats in a drone as if in a trance.
Once the task is complete and the officer hands over his control, Xol renders the officer unconscious with a swift strike.
Scanning the tremendous battle projection, the Yautja searches for any anomaly that could be Darth Vader making his escape, and after what seems like an eternity he catches a lone TIE Interceptor leaving the surface directly above his current position. Before the fighter can get far from the base, Xol fires a volley from the immense cannons, sending the fighter careening off into the jungle several kilometers away. As he watches it fall, he wonders if that was the blow that would kill the Emperor. Had he just killed Darth Vader? Had his destiny come true? These questions and more spin through Xol’s mind, as he lines up his next shots against the small star destroyers blockading the Wookiee homeworld.
The very same weapons system the Empire planned to use against the Rebel fleet Xol now uses to disrupt their great battleships and make them flounder above the planet, unable to escape. Soon, rebel transports would evacuate the staff and soldiers here on Kashyyyk, and regroup with the fleet at Yavin 4 for a big assault there. After he secures the control room, the Yautja heads cautiously towards the nearest lift, his thoughts filled with only one thought. Had Vader perished in the crash? He was determined to find out.
As he makes his way to the surface, the rumble of battle becomes more intense as he ascends. The sounds of the clash change as he nears the top level. The door to the lift opens with a grinding, metallic squeal and Xol, emerges on the smoke filled plain of battle. However, where once could be heard the chattering of blaster fire and concussive thump of explosions, now, in the stillness, echoing throughout the ruined military installation are the trumpets of Ewok horns and the distant cheers of victory. With the cannons disabled, it appears the Empire fled, retreating to the stars, only to find their command vessels as lifeless asteroids, orbiting Kashyyyk.
“All soldiers of the Alliance return to command at once, you must.” The sound of Master Yoda’s voice says over the Rebellion’s communications channel, “Evacuating, we are. Underway our transports will be.”
It was not like Xol to disobey Yoda but, he couldn’t leave this place alongside the others until he knew the fate of Darth Vader. His old Jedi teacher would just have to understand, he thought to himself as he headed in the direction of the Dark Lord’s downed craft.
Occasionally he would come upon a Stormtrooper left behind as part of the rear guard. If they were foolish enough to attack, Xol would dispatch them before continuing on his determined march. Amidst the rubble of the base he comes upon an abandoned speederbike and decides to use it in spite of the fact that it is a bit undersized for his species. Its weapons were not installed but that is of little concern to him. With a whoosh, the light, dart-shaped vehicle flies Xol over the base at breakneck speed. Unlike the dense forest, the base is much more open, allowing the Jedi the opportunity to push the vehicle to its limits. However, the feeling of freedom is short-lived as he nears the edge of the installation and heads towards the endless wall of tightly packed wroshyr trees. Dropping the speed down, he plunges forward in the undergrowth, venturing ever closer to his destination, anticipation and curiosity building up inside of his stomach.
The cool and humid tropical forest seems to grow dark as Xol nears the crash site. The darkness seems to come not from shade but from the Force, if Vader has died, then surely his spirit rife with Dark Side energy will infest this place.
Fingers of light beam down through the canopy where the TIE pierced its green veil and all the forest is still. Cautious of an ambush, Xol dismounts the speederbike and chooses to walk toward the wreckage stealthily. His gaze pans from side to side, desperately searching for any sign of movement from the dense brush. Just ahead, through the tree line, he sees the downed fighter, twisted and mangled lying still. Smoke billows from within, flurries of spark shoot from damaged power couplings. He remains hesitant as he approaches, as the spherical pilot’s compartment faces away from him. Xol rounds the craft, his lightsabers drawn but not alight. As he glances into the main transparisteel canopy at the front, his heart sinks and his muscles tense, Darth Vader, is not inside.
Suddenly, he feels a disturbance in the Force. In reflex, he triggers the blades of his weapons and assumes a defensive stance. Scanning his surroundings he sees and hears nothing but the buzz of his lightsabers. A metallic grinding comes from behind as the shattered TIE is flung toward Xol, its velocity so great that he has no time to evade. In defense he throws his lightsabers at the oncoming wreck, slicing off both of its dagger shaped wings. With his hands freed, Xol uses the Force to push against the center mass containing the cockpit, halting it in mid flight as the severed wing pieces sail passed, tearing off into the undergrowth like machetes. The Yautja, not interested in having to dodge this projectile again, flings it up and through the tree canopy, a large pillar of sunlight shining through the hole that it leaves in its wake.
“You were a fool to come here, Jedi,” The mechanically voice of Vader says from all around. “I knew you couldn’t resist taking your revenge on me.”
“Revenge is the path to the Dark Side, this is justice Vader, your reign of tyranny and oppression will end here!”
“Noble words, but utterly futile. Jedi sentiments and lies are no match for the power of the Dark Side!” Vader replies, his ominous breathing echoing from every direction. “I knowingly allowed you to strike my fighter down with the cannon. I knew it would draw you out away from the others. I will strike you down here and now, and then I shall crush the Jedi and this foolish Rebellion.”
“Then face me Skywalker, if you can.”
Enraged by the recitation of his old name, Darth Vader leaps from his enshrouded hiding place, and flings his lightsaber toward Xol, its red blade fiery with hatred as it cuts through the air. The strike was too quick and too proficient for the Yautja to avoid in time and it cuts deep into his midsection. Both Xol and Vader retrieve their flung weapons with the Force and square off against one another. The cold stares of the two masked combatants reflect in each other eyepieces. The only sound that is heard is the steady, sinister, mechanical breathing of Darth Vader.
Xol attempts to use the power Master Kuro taught him to manipulate plants, by snaking dense vine growth up Vader’s legs and restraining the Dark Lord’s arms. With lightning speed the plants grow and wrap around him, effectively restricting his ability to move.
“Though I have said in the past I would kill you, however this is not the Jedi way,” Xol says as he sheathes his weapons and holsters them to his belt. “You knew that, once. Let go of your hate I implore you, bring peace to the galaxy.”
“Foolish Jedi, I have brought peace to the galaxy! It is you who should give in to your hate. You should have killed me when you had the chance, now you and all those like you will die!”
With a loud snap, the vines restraining Vader’s right arm give way allowing him to raise his hand. The Dark Lord’s black glove crackles as it tightens into a gripping posture. Xol feels his throat constrain, cutting off his ability to breathe. He vainly grabs at his neck attempting to fight off the attack.
“You cannot defeat me Jedi, you never could.” Vader says, delighting as he strangles Xol to death.
“I don’t know Emperor,” a voice says from a cluster of trees behind Vader, “He’s got a fighting chance in my opinion.”
Emerging from the obscuring forest floor is Dex, his armor covered in scorch marks and battle damage. He is accompanied by a large group made up of Rebel soldiers, Wookiees and various other races. As they advance into the camp, their blasters drawn. They begin to encircle the partially bound Dark Lord.
“Now, your eminence,” Dex says sarcastically, “put him down or you’ll be shot here in the dirt like a womprat.”
“Very well,” Vader replies in a low voice, “I shall release him.”
With a swift outward motion, he casts Xol far into the forest, crashing through the brush as he flies. His lightsaber igniting in his hand, he uses his strength and breaks free of his bindings, the loose vines falling at his feet. Absolutely fearless, Darth Vader marches toward the group of Rebels.
In response to his advance, Dex and the other soldiers open fire, their blaster bolts deflecting off of Vader’s hardened armor, and occasionally parried by his lightsaber. Bolts blocked by the saber are ricocheted skillfully back by the Dark Lord, killing the soldiers who fire them. Wookiee warriors attempt to engage the Sith in hand to hand combat and are quickly cut down, as he continues toward them.
Seeing his comrades falling before Vader like trampled grass, Dex charges headlong toward his opponent, firing his blaster at every step. Bolts clash and ping against the Emperor’s black armor. As he closes with the Dark Lord, his clip runs out, forcing Dex to flip his weapon around so that the butt end is at the leading edge. As Vader attempts a low strike with his saber, Dex jumps overtop, connecting with a high dropkick, clacking against the dark helmet. While the kick momentarily throws the Dark Lord off kilter, Dex strikes repeatedly at the head and chest with the stock of his blaster rifle. Each strike sadly, seems to barely affect the armor and Vader regains his balance and attacks Dex with ferocity. The nimble clone evades all but one slash which rakes across his chest, gliding through his armor with ease, searing a deep wound into the flesh underneath. In pain, Dex falls backward with a thud, branches and leaf litter crackling under his back. Darth Vader looms over top of him, his red saber raised for the final killing blow. Continuing interference by the other Rebels however, diverts the Sith’s attention away from Dex and he attempts to crawl away.
Darth Vader shows no mercy in fighting and dispatching the other soldiers currently locked in battle with him. Chance shots and violent, physical strikes damage his armor but not with any great effect. With a thrusting motion, he runs through the last Rebel and returns his attention to a wounded Dex, who can only lie on the ground seemingly helpless, a bloody, red, slash across his chest plate.
“Now in your final moment, know that you cannot defeat the power of the Dark Side!” Vader booms as he angrily storms toward the fallen clone trooper.
Just as the battered Emperor raises his final strike, Xol emerges from the forest. Covered in plant matter and limping into the body littered clearing, he has a look of perseverance on his face. He raises his two lightsabers from his belt and triggers the blades. With a flashy display of proficiency, the Yautja calls out, “No more bloodshed Sith! This ends here, and now!”
Rushing towards each other, Xol and Darth Vader, exchange blows, clashing and parrying each others lightsaber attacks making the blades screech and snap with energy at every connection. For a while, neither one can land a blow, but with skillful precision, Vader manages to catch the Yautja in the shoulder with a downward slice, making Xol growl in pain.
In anger, Xol lashes out with a powerful double strike, tearing open the chest armor on Darth Vader’s armor. The crisscrossed slashes smolder with heat as the Dark Lord drops to his knees. The attacks leveled against him by Xol had severed his chest life support module and the severely wounded Vader’s breathing becomes fatigued. His lightsaber still active but lowered at his side, he lashes out once more against the alien Jedi. Xol, severely wounded himself is only able to glance the attack enough that it grazes his left leg instead of severing it. Scorched, luminescent green blood spill from the wound and brings the Yautja to the ground. Darth Vader, although injured, can easily strike and kill Xol from this position. His breathing erratic, the Dark Lord knows that he will die soon and raises his weapon high above the wounded Yautja’s head.
“Do you see what happens when you give into your hate, foolish Jedi?” Vader says between mechanical gasps of air. “You become truly powerful!”
“No! Anakin stop!” a saddened female voice shouts, seemingly from all around. “Do not kill him.”
Darth Vader, seeming to recognize the voice, calls out in response, “Who is there? Show yourself!”
“Do not be afraid, Ani. I won’t hurt you,” the voice replies.
Kneeling down next to him, materializing it seems from nowhere, is a beautiful, young woman. Her long, curled, brown hair laden with small white flowers, framing her ivory white face as she smiles with tears forming in her eyes. Her elegant blue dress, shimmering with light as it fans out against the ground like a gentle mist.
Shock and immense sadness overtake the Dark Lord as he releases his weapons and drops his arms to his sides. Turning his head toward her, the hollow black eyes of his helmet seem to almost reflect his emotional state as he looks at her.
“Padme?” he asks, “Is that really you?”
“Yes, Anakin,” she says as her smile widens, a solitary tear rolling down her face. “It’s me.”
“How can this be? You are dead! I lost you, I couldn’t save you. Are you a spirit?”
“Yes, I am in a way, this Jedi you were about to kill was able to bring me into this world for a short time. When I felt your pain, I came to you.”
“Why would you? I am a monster! After all that I have done, how can you forgive me?”
“Anakin, I forgive you because I love you, even after all that has happened, you broke my heart Ani but, I still loved you. Now here at the end, when we have the chance to be reunited, do not continue to hate so much, let go of your pain. Let go of the anger, my love. I wait for you.”
“Padme, allow me to see your face one last time before I die.”
“Of course, my love, just rest here among the trees.”
Padme’s spiritual form then grabs Darth Vader’s helmet and begins taking it apart. Beneath the cold dark shell of the armor, a scarred man emerges, hairless and pale. His eyes have reverted from their Sith corruption to their original color. He gazes into Padme’s angelic face before speaking.
“I am sorry Padme,” he struggles to say, his breathing shallow. “I never stopped loving you.”
“I know,” she says before kissing him gently on the forehead, “Rest now, and we will be together always.”
Xol, bearing witness to the touching scene, watches as Padme and Vader’s body fade away, leaving the armor lifeless and hollow on the forest floor.
Dex, struggling to walk over to where Xol lies says with winded breath as he reaches down to pull him up, “What in the name of the Cloners was that? Who was she and why did they both disappear?”
“The answer to that line of questioning is far too complex for just a single sentence,” Xol replies while being helped from the ground. “To put it simply Dex, the Force used me to intercede and bring balance to the galaxy. It knew even though I didn’t, that killing Darth Vader or myself being killed would lead to more death. Dark Lord Blades long ago must have known this and he knew in a way that instead of bringing about peace, I would simply replace Vader and bring about a new, darker age. I could feel my long controlled hate from back then, building up again being in the Emperor’s presence. The only real power in the universe that could defeat him and not repeat his deadly cycle was Vader being destroyed by Anakin Skywalker in spirit.”
“So, what do we do now Lord Xol?” Dex jokes, clutching his painful chest wound.
“The Empire still must be defeated even though its Emperor is dead; I will take this armor as my last trophy, and display it as a symbol for all Jedi to remember the lure and destructive power of the Dark Side and all its ills.”
“Sounds good to me, but do you mind if we see a medic first old buddy?”
“Yes of course, DX-1165, there is still much left to be done.”
The pair braces each other up and begins to walk through the forest, onward to an uncertain future in a galaxy far, far, away...
THE END
