STAR WARS/PREDATOR: DARK APPRENTICE SAGA (PART FIVE)

After being contracted by Orlo the Hutt, Xol and Dex set out to assassinate the Imperial Moff known as Count Raxus.

According to Orlo, the Count stays aboard his modified luxury Corellian Corvette in orbit when not conducting business on the surface of Ord Mantell or elsewhere.

Under the alias of Dexter Kamino, a fictitious Mandalorian bounty hunter, Dex manages to get hired as security detail aboard Raxus’ ship.

Xol, in the interim waits aboard the Wayfarer transport, honing his Dark Jedi skills until Dex gives him the signal that the Count has returned from offworld business and is aboard.

It won’t be long now before the hunt begins and despite all his focus, Xol’s mind is preoccupied with his lust for blood, the thrill of the chase, the ecstasy of the task itself.

The Yautja will have his prize, this Sith protector the Imperial uses to hide behind will not be enough to stop him. Orlo will reward him greatly and another Sith trophy will hang on his wall…

It is barely dawn on Ord Mantell, when Xol awakes from his deep meditative sleep. After quickly inhaling a barely palatable bar shaped food ration, he dons his Dark Jedi robes and sits in front of his holocrons once more. Activating them all mentally with the Force as he sits, he crosses his legs and moves his hands overtop a scattering of mechanical parts in front of him. The pieces belong to his gauntlet lightsaber assembly; he is reconstructing it as a handheld saber so he can use his Yautja gauntlet for other hunting devices.
 

In addition to simply reconstructing it, he has chosen to attempt a theoretical crystal fusion technique his old master conceived, combining the existing red crystal with the black one he found amidst the rock debris some time ago. Despite the lack of evidence to support it, he believes this mysterious black crystal to be a nexus point in the Force, where much energy overlaps imbuing it, and in turn him with great power.

 

According to both Dark Lord Blades and the Great Holocron, the technique has failed almost every single time it has been attempted and even in successful trials the result was so unstable it usually killed it’s creator. Nevertheless, Xol knows that Vader is undoubtedly more experienced in the ways of the Force than him and will be impossible to kill the Sith Lord without the aid of specially designed tools to coincide with his rigorous Dark Jedi training.

 

As Xol begins to focus on the two crystals, merging them into one unified whole, a voice enters his mind unlike any other he has ever heard before. Before it has spoken a word it already fills the Yautja with feelings of dread, the likes of which he hasn’t felt since he was a small child. Fighting against the terror, Xol puts forth all of his conscious thought and focus, attempting to clear his mind of any other thought besides the task at hand.

The Force fills the cargo bay like water filling an empty bucket, causing any loose items or moveable objects to rise from the ground. Even Xol’s fighter begins to levitate, putting strain on its mooring cables until they finally snap. The Yautja’s concentration does not wane, even though he feels as if the fabric of the universe is going to unravel around him. Although only mere minutes have passed since he started to fuse the two crystals, it feels for Xol as if days have passed, his muscles beginning to seize and spasm from the ordeal.

The crystals swirl around one another, dancing in midair in front of the Yautja, their rigid structure breaking down and become like wax blending together, interweaving with the fabric of each others makeup. Red-colored arcs of electricity stream from one side, while a wispy black mist cascades from the other. Once the two intertwine, their form becomes more static and begins to shape into a rough polygon. Once the multifaceted diamond like form is complete is elongates to once again resemble a lightsaber crystal. Even though it is a solid mass, its clear, red crystalline body has a seemingly fluidic black center.

Upon the crystal’s completion, Xol collapses into a heap on the cold floor of the cargo bay hangar. Once he is unconscious, all of the objects that were floating around, immediately stop, and return to where they were, but not with a sudden drop or fall, instead, they seem to guide their way back to their points of origin, as if set down by some great hand.

It is two days before the weary Yautja awakens; his eyes struggle to adjust to the minimal lighting of the hangar. He sees his holocrons still activated, the ambient light from them spreading across the metal floor. His lightsaber, fully completed, lies just in front of him. This comes as a shock to Xol, who can only recall the forming of the crystal and not the reconstruction of the hilt. Assuming that maybe the strenuous construction may have caused some short term memory loss, Xol picks up the saber and ignites the blade, curious as to whether or not the taxing effort has yielded any desired results.

To his surprise, the blade fires from the hilt with a loud burst of light and sound. It’s brilliant red blade pulsing black in the center as well as ribbons of black energy wrap around its exterior. Xol is overcome with pride in the success of its creation and begins to execute some basic wielding exercises. As the blade passes through the air, the black ribbons of energy flutter behind it like shadowy fabric. He continues his exercise, but then in mid swing stops and sheathes the saber, the blade glides back into the hilt with a snick and the room grows darker.

All the light in the room seems dimmed and Xol feels a chill fill the air. He senses that he is no longer alone in the hangar. As he stretches out with the Force, he can not ascertain where the presence is located but he knows it is close. Then from out of the darkness, a voice begins to speak, its words booming, reverberating across the cargo bay, shaking the very air.

“Out of shade and strife, you have birthed me,” the voice says, the air becoming charged with every word. “Far too long have I been kept dormant in that column on Ilum, housed in a prison of stone and time by the first of the Jedi.”

“What are you?” Xol asks, his eyes darting back and forth, desperately searching for the source of the voice in the darkness.

“I am the gate and you are the key,” the voice replies.

“What key? The gate to where?” Xol responds, frustrated.

“The gate to Chaos, mortal Xol,” the darkness answers. “I guide those who have chosen the Dark Side as their path, there are many like me, but I am of a handful that can exist in your realm as well.”

“So, you are a spirit?” Xol asks, confused.

“Not entirely young Dark Lord,” the voice replies. “I am a conduit into the spirit world. Before all I could do was allow one such as yourself to use me as a way of seeing and communicating with anyone who was brought to Chaos. Now, with your aid, I can affect this world through the will of another, namely you Xol. I called out to you when you found me in the rubble, and with you fusing my physical form to this weapons crystal and powering it with your own energy, I am yours to command.”

“Wait,” Xol answers, his cloudy mind unable to fully grasp that which is being told to him. “How is it that you are at my command? With the power you wield you could just destroy me and wreak havoc upon this universe.”

“That is not my intent, dark one. The Force is in turmoil, an instability caused by Darth Vader. Your master, Lord Blades was right to train you for the purpose of correcting this imbalance. I, an entity existing within the netherworld of that benevolent Force, must aid you or risk my own destruction at the hands of Vader’s wanton destructive nature. Vader must die and the Jedi must return in order for the Dark Side to survive.”

“How can Darth Vader destroy the Force itself?” Xol replies, his voice skeptical.

“To simplify it, the Force exists in all things, there is a balance within all things, at times the Dark Side or the Light seems dominant but ultimately there will always be both, as long as the natural order is maintained without interference. Darth Vader, was once regarded as the Chosen One, one who would bring balance to the Force, he forsook that destiny and exchanged it for power, far too much power for one to have. What his Jedi Order’s prophecy did not mention was that the Chosen One could undo the Force, and thus undo all existence just as easily as he could restore its balance. He must be stopped, before the scales on one side become too heavy and tip over.”

“Very well,” the Yautja says, a calm starting finally to fall over him. “How is that you can help me accomplish this mission? You come from a place of the dead, a resting place for deceased followers of the Dark Side. My master’s training taught me that only spirits exist beyond this world and they can only affect our world in minimal ways.”

“This much is true Dark Jedi,” the shadows respond. “Spirits are limited to a few basic abilities beyond the living world. However, as I told you earlier, because of you I can affect this world, in essence the gateway that I am responsible for does not open one way anymore.”

“So with your help, I can summon a bunch of spirits?” Xol answers with disappointment.

“No, not just spirits Lord Xol,” the voice answers. “With my help, anyone who has ever wielded the Dark Side of the Force and has died in the entirety of history can be summoned to do your bidding, brought back into corporeal form for a short time.”

“Won’t they destroy me?” Xol asks.

“They may want to, but they can’t,” the darkness replies. “Only as ghosts or wraiths can their own wants and desires beyond death be achieved. As physical beings summoned through me, they are bound to you. They will retain all of their memories, skills, and personality, but be unable to do anything besides what you have commanded them to do. The process requires a great deal of your power and given your limitations yourself as a physical being, only one individual can be brought forth at any time. Before another is manifest, their energies must be returned to the Void or risk being lost forever.”

“Your claims are far too outlandish to be true, stranger,” Xol responds, his skepticism growing with every moment. “Show me some proof that you can in fact do what you say you can.”

“The proof is in your hands,” the voice responds from the shadows. “The weapon you hold is shaped by your will but, completed by my efforts, after you combined my shard with the red Adegan crystal, your body needed time to regenerate, and you were nearly killed from the exertion. So, while you rested, I completed it, knowing that I wouldn’t be of service to unless it, namely I, was complete.”

“You built it?” the Yautja replies, shocked. “How is that possible? It is just as I wanted it to be. How did you build a lightsaber exactly to my specifications?”

“I retrieved what I needed from your subconscious as you rested, I even took the liberty of transplanting your master’s holocron from this weapon, constructing a similar device to those found here in your training space. The heads up display in your helmet, your ship, and fighter’s computers can still remote link to his new holocron.”

“You accomplished all these tasks while I was asleep for only a few hours?” Xol replies, his skepticism all but gone.

“No, Lord Xol, you have been asleep for nearly a month,” the voice answers. “You still require more rest but the Force has a will of its own, and wanted to make sure you were conscious at this precise moment in time.”

“Why?” questions Xol.

“You shall soon see, Dark Jedi, call upon me at any moment through the Force and I will assist you anyway I can,” the voice answers, it final words fading as the darkness in the room begins to dissipate.

As light returns to the room, Xol eyes strain to adjust, his mind now swims with thoughts and unanswered questions. Placing the completed saber on his hip, he seats himself again in front of his gallery of holocrons. His mind still troubled, he confers with the Force, hoping that it can provide him with some clarity.

The Yautja’s eyes barely close, when they are snapped open again from the muffled sound of his helmet’s communicator receiving a message. Levitating his helmet to him, he places it on his head. Displaying in the HUD is a grainy video transmission from Dex.

“Lord Xol, are you receiving me?” Dex says. “I can only keep this channel open for a short time or I will be discovered. If you are receiving this message, then be advised, just as we said, your hunt is a go. I repeat. Your hunt is a go. I will contact you again once you have come aboard Raxus’ vessel. I am relaying the spatial coordinates to you now. Good luck sir, and uh, what do you Jedi say again? Right. May the Force be with you. DX-1165, out.”

Once the video feed cuts out, a series of numbers and schematics flash on the screen giving Xol, an exact position and layout for his target’s vessel. Despite still feeling weak from his prior endeavor, he knows that this moment is most likely why the Force had awakened him prematurely. He rushes to don his armor and prep the ship for launch. Once he finishes inputting some coordinates in the navigational computer, he takes a seat at the piloting station. With a tremendous roar of the engines, the transport explodes from the spaceport, climbing steeply towards space.

Once free of Ord Mantell’s atmosphere, the Wayfarer flies to an orbital position where, according to Dex, Count Raxus’ ship is supposed to be moored. Just as his vessel rounds the pinkish hued horizon of the planet, Xol can see a luminous chrome covered starship in the distance, the light from the star systems sun gleams off the hull, casting a halo around it. As soon as he comes into visual range, an incoming transmission begins to flash on the forward display. With a press of a button, Xol opens the channel.

“Unidentified craft, this is the Imperial ship Raxus I,” an Imperial officer says after appearing on the screen. “Your flight path directly interferes with ours, if you do not have business with this vessel, plot an alternate course or be fired upon.”

“As a matter of fact, Imperial vessel, I do have business with Count Raxus.” Xol responds, a dire urgency in his tone. “I have some information regarding Orlo the Hutt and a plot to assassinate your master.”

“Then, I will relay the information on your behalf,” the officer replies. “If it is of interest, Count Raxus will contact you and your service to the Empire will be noted.”

“Save your notes soft meat,” Xol gruffly retorts. “If this information was transmittable, I would have just done that from the surface. The assassin is among your crew, and as an Imperial operative, I wish to speak to the Count directly, if my message were intercepted, the culprit may not be apprehended in time.”

“If you are truly an Imperial operative, then submit your verification code now, failure to do so will result in our turbolasers opening fire.” The officer says, his eyes narrowing in displeasure.

“Never, ever, question a Sith Lord like some criminal trash lieutenant,” Xol answers, unimpressed. “In the spirit of cooperation, I understand you must adhere to protocol. Here is my verification code. You will notice it is of the highest level clearance.”

With a wave of his hand, Xol concentrates all of his efforts towards his Jedi mind trick as he presses a button on the console transmitting an erroneous code, which according to Dex is probably older than him.

The officer turns his attention to another display where the code is being received. With a nod of acceptance, the middle-aged Imperial turns back to the communication view screen and says, “Sincere apologies, Lord Xol, we are sending you docking instructions now, you may proceed at your leisure. We look forward to having you aboard sir.”

“Thank you lieutenant, I am making my approach now.” Xol communicates before shutting off his video feed.

After docking with the Corellian Corvette, Xol makes his way across the connecting gangway used in the docking process. Even the path, basically a utility hallway, is as decadent as the outer hull, decorated with pretentious wall fixtures and precious metal inlays. At the other end of the hall, a grand, white, ornately decorated air lock door can be seen. Xol approaches the door and a computerized voice welcomes him as the air lock automatically opens, making way into a larger chamber beyond. The Yautja, dressed in his full armor with cloak overtop walks into a small assembly of individuals who are there waiting for him, all are human and most are heavily armed. Only a few are distinctively Imperial officers, their pure black uniforms contrasting the white, hooded robes of the others. Standing in front of them is Count Raxus dressed in a white uniform usually reserved for Grand Admirals, approaches Xol accompanied by two people, a cane tucked underneath his arm. The person to the right of the Count is one of the hooded soldiers brandishing an exotic looking polearm, the other to his left, is a female adorned in black armor with a gold cape behind it, she wears a lightsaber on each hip. Clearly this female is the Sith protector that Orlo’s bounty hunters are afraid of.

Stopping just a few feet in front of the tall Yautja, Raxus removing the cane from under his arm and putting it at his side says, “Lord Xol, I am Count Karn Raxus, Imperial Moff to the Core Worlds and humble servant of his Emperor, Darth Vader. These two standing at my side are my trusted advisors, my chief security officer, Mr. Kamino and my envoy from the Sith council and my personal bodyguard, Dark Lady Aranna. But, enough with formalities, I am so pleased to have you aboard my ship, I just wish it were on better terms.”

“I wish the same thing Count,” Xol says, his eyes trained on Aranna. “It is a fine ship, far more extravagant that I would imagine an Imperial officer could afford, even one as prestigious as you.”

“Understandable that you would raise that question,” Raxus replies, his pretention growing with every word. “Being a Moff only has some benefits, the majority of my wealth and power comes from careful investing, but also I happen to own several mining operations in various different systems including this one, thus my seemingly gilded lifestyle. Speaking of which, how did you like the outer hull, I just had it done, specialist ship designers from Naboo, very expensive.”

Xol feigning interest replies, “I think it looked great, like a jewel among the stars.”

“You really think so?” the Count replies, a smile stretched across his face. “That’s just what I wanted to hear. Now, onto current business, you claim that an assassin lies in my midst, hired by Orlo the Hutt?”

“Regrettably yes, your eminence, and I know that they are aboard your ship at this very moment.” Xol responds his voice low, attempting to show respect.

“I hate to disagree with you Lord Xol,” Raxus responds pompously. “All of my soldiers are hand picked by me from the ranks of the Imperial Royal Guards with the exception of Mr. Kamino, and Aranna was chosen by the Sith council to ensure my safety. So you see, there is no possible assassin amongst my soldiers. This is probably just an attempt by that blue slug Orlo to rattle me, and well if that Hutt wants to try and scare me into lowering his Imperial tariff, he is surely mistaken. If nothing else, I think I might raise it now, that little worm has enough money to spread false information through the intelligence networks, so he can surely spare a few extra credits for his Imperial benefactors.”

“Perhaps he could, but I do think there is some truth to his supposed rumor,” Xol says, his eyes widening with anticipation.

“How do you mean Lord Xol?” the Count replies, a troubled look on his face.

“As my master once said before his death…” the Yautja says, his voice sounding dark and menacing from behind the faceplate of his helmet. “I am the assassin.”

With one quick motion, Xol draws his lightsaber and leaps into the air overtop the Count. In response, Dark Lady Aranna draws her own weapons and uses the Force to push her Imperial master clear of the Yautja’s downward attack. Xol, angered by this move but unable to stop it, flings his still ignited saber at Aranna before landing to the ground.

The spinning disc of red light comes within inches of the Sith as she moves out of the way, letting it pass right by her, across the chamber. Looking back at Xol, a smirk on her face, Aranna says, “You’ll have to do a lot better than that impostor, if you hope to defeat me.”

With fury in her eyes she strikes out towards her opponent with an arc of lightning from her hand, the energy crackling the air around them. The flickering tongues of electricity course through Xol’s body, causing so much pain it brings him to his knees.

Meanwhile, a team of soldiers led by Dex are helping the Count return to his feet after being flung and are escorting him out of the chamber. All the remaining soldiers train their weapons on the duel in front of them, covering the escape of Raxus through the exit.

Aranna, a half smile on her face, continues to electrocute Xol, the sight of her opponent in agony seems to delight her. “Have you had enough ‘Dark Lord’ or do you wish to suffer some more?” she says.

“On the contrary, Lady Aranna, this is not suffering, nor is this pain, this is my gift to you,” Xol says, his words strained by his torment. “The gifts of power over your enemy before you die.”

“Perhaps in addition to your delusion that you could come aboard this vessel and succeed in this fool’s errand, Aranna replies. “You honestly believe that right now, you are in any position to vanquish me, when it is I that has the upper hand.”

“The only hand you have, soft meat female,” Xol chokes, his words broken up by spasms of pain. “Is the one that I have dealt for you!”

In an instant, the electrified net surrounding Xol recedes and collects into a gathering of energy just in front of him. The energy forms a sphere bristling with Aranna’s lightning, as it hover just centimeters from the Yautja’s chest, the Dark Jedi looks up to his Sith adversary and says, “Goodbye Sith female, you presented, an adequate challenge. However, I tire of this game and must be claiming your master as a trophy for Orlo the Hutt.”

Aranna ceases her attack and assumes a defensive posture with her lightsabers, a look of determination on her face attempting to squelch the terror in her eyes. She is afraid. Fearful of what this formidable foe might do.

With a clutch of his outstretched hand, Xol uses the Dark Side to constrict the throat of his Sith opponent, while manipulating the still intact sphere of Force energy with his other hand. His adversary fights to stay conscious, even dropping her lightsabers to the ground as the grip becomes tighter and tighter on her throat, their crimson blades retracting as they fall. After a moment or two in his grasp he finally releases the sphere of energy in a strong forward motion, turning it into a projectile directed at the Sith warrior. Held in place by the Force, Aranna is unable to move out of the way of the orb heading towards her. Upon impact, Xol releases his hold allowing the impact to send the Dark Lady hurtling through the air towards the rear of the chamber, her body crackling with the lightning that was store within. As Aranna flies through the air, her body wracked with the same pain experienced by Xol, the Yautja powers up his lightsaber that has sat at the back of the room since their battle began. Using his telekinetic abilities, he positions the blade directly into the flight path of the helpless Sith. The blade does not recoil or show the slightest disruption as her body is cut in two, passing through it. The corpse falls just behind the weapon, its two halves smoldering, with the two cut pieces cauterized from the intensity of the lightsaber.

Knowing that with Aranna dead it will be seconds before the soldiers open fire, Xol retrieves his lightsaber with the Force and spins around to meet them. Just as he turns, a hail of blaster fire rains toward him. He deflects a few shots, and dodges what he can, but some still splash against his armor. Anger and rage consuming his mind, he charges into the formation of white robed troops, increasing his speed as he goes. Once among them, he strikes ferociously and wildly, severing limbs and weaponry. Shots still collide with his armor as he cuts down soldier after soldier like tall grass. As the soldiers numbers dwindle, they make a retreat for the door constantly firing a barrage of shots at Xol, who repels some back to their shooters with his lightsaber, killing the soldiers with their own blaster fire. The Yautja tires of his games with these guards, desperately wanting to continue the hunt for Raxus. With all of his hatred and anger, Xol begins to pry the door itself from it foundation, its heavy metal doors groaning from the stress before finally coming loose. With his right hand he smashes the door into some of the soldiers while the left hand cuts down several more, using the other door as a discus. All but one soldier has been slain by the doors. This remaining soldier, weaponless and bloodied lies on his back on the floor of the room, he clammers to move away from the Yautja who slowly walks toward him, his lightsaber drawn at his side. The Dark Jedi stalks him like a predator, pacing back and forth in front of him, before finally striking out, impaling the man with his thrown lightsaber.

Satisfaction fills Xol as he removes the lightsaber from his kill. He retracts the blade and places the hilt onto his belt, holstering it. Before proceeding through the ruined, body littered doorway, he pauses, recalling that he had one more task to complete. With his hand raised to shoulder level, turns his palm upward as if to catch something. Then with a loud, wet pop from behind him, the skull complete with spinal column of Aranna, still covered in blood comes to his waiting hand by his will over the Force in a flash. After fastening the trophy to the rear of his right shoulder, Xol retrieves her lightsabers in the same fashion as he did her skull. Placing them next to his own weapon on his belt, he walks through the doorway and into the ships corridors, the chaos and carnage of the entrance chamber at his back.

As Xol walks along the corridors, turning corner after corner finding nothing but lavish surroundings without any sign of where Raxus has gone or whether or not he is even still onboard. Then at a turn near the escape pods, the sounds of footsteps draw near, the pace quick like they are running. Xol activates his camouflage and waits in ambush, knowing that whoever it is can bring him to the Count. As they round the turn, Xol is stopped in mid-swing upon recognizing that the footsteps belong to Dex and a restrained Count Raxus.

“That is not the plan we agreed upon, Xol,” Dex says, irritated. “I can only be thankful that because of your brash behavior, it left me in a situation that I could more easily control.”

“My apologies 1165, it was not my intent to jeopardize our mission,” Xol replies, sincerely. “I simply saw an opportunity for victory, and I took advantage.”

“Aw, it’s alright big guy,” Dex says, as he pats Xol on the shoulder, avoiding the right which is covered in gore. “I just don’t want to see you end up like that one on your shoulder there.”

Xol looks down at Count Raxus, restrained with his arm behind his back and asks, “Shall we return this prize to Orlo and collect our reward?”

“Of course,” Dex says as he pushes the Imperial over towards the towering Yautja. “Just to sweeten the deal with ol’ Orlo, I figure, that we will bring this ship of Raxus’ back to him as sort of a bonus, it will be worth quite a bit on the black market. In the meantime, you take our transport and deliver the Count at the same time. That’ll make Orlo laugh his little blue tail off, I bet.”

“Then, I will take this Imperial trash with me,” Xol affirms whilst levitating the Count a foot off the ground. “We shall reunite at Orlo’s mansion. Agreed?”

“That’s the plan, I will see you there,” Dex responds with a confirming slap against Xol’s arm before proceeding down the hall presumably towards the bridge.

With Raxus in tow, Xol heads to the Wayfarer and fires it up. The engines power on and once free of the docking gangway of Raxus’ Corvette, the Dark Jedi races towards Ord Mantell’s surface. With Dex in his commandeered vessel not too far behind, Xol calmly sits at the piloting station, staring out upon the pinkish atmosphere of the planet below.

Once the navigation computer has fixed a landing trajectory, the Yautja begins to clean his latest trophy in the traditional ways, taking solace in the little things, and holding on to the simple joys of his life to cope with the insanity that is his existence. Not even the Force could predict what his future holds, which fills him with a sense of calm, an uncertain future is one that can be changed.

TO BE CONTINUED…