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

Successfully completing his Trial of the Spirit and defeating the spectre of the Dark Side, Xol had now emerged, reborn in the Force as a Jedi Master.

Upon his return to Sandcrawler One, Master Kuro began training him in her alternative ways of the Force for their upcoming assault on Yavin 4. Almost a year is spent preparing in the harsh jungle wilderness of Kashyyyk.

In that time, Xol became better acquainted with the variety of races at the camp including the native Wookiees. His many hunts with them have made him once again feel Yautja.

However, in all this peace, he understands that his time now is the calm before the impending storm. He must do what is necessary to ensure that he is ready to face the challenges that lay ahead.

For if he does not, he will fail and the galaxy will plunge into darkness from which there is no escape.

It is morning in the rebel encampment, and Xol is awoken by the chattering of tiny voices from beyond his thatch hut’s front door. In a fog, he steps out of bed and in one swift motion, throws the door open and playfully roars at the figures standing outside. The dozen camp children freeze in childish terror, then scream and run off down the beaten path toward the beach.

This is the fourth time they have lurked outside his doorway hoping to steal a glimpse of him while he rests. Amongst the young ones, he has become something of a hero, a strange alien that will single handedly defeat the Empire. He does not discourage their stories as they seem to bring them joy, especially among the woklings.

He smiles to himself as he watches them run, and then quickly turn to play once they reach the water. With a yawn, he closes the door and turns to where his belongings are set out, however waiting for him, standing only to his knee is a young Gungan male in white Jedi training robes. The child has in his outstretched arms, Xol’s own robes folded neatly and his lightsaber resting atop them.

“Jedi initiate Lee-po, why have you entered my chamber unannounced?” the Yautja says, displeased.

“Meesa sorry Master Xol, I just’an needin to being talkin’ to yousa, oober bad!” the youth explains with fearful excitement.

“Could this not have waited young one until after morning lessons with Master Yoda?”

“No, meesa sorry, but, I cannot be waitin’ that long.”

“Very well young one, tell me of your troubles, I sense you have great confusion and fear within you. Speak to me and let go of those feelings.”

“Well, it’s a being embarrassing. Other Gungans mockin’ Lee-po, laughing at meesa, it makin’ me so angry, I want to be hurting them.”

“Lee-po, you are young, others will try and goad you into becoming angry. As a Jedi we must take control of our anger like we would a wild Gundark. It will always be difficult, but in the end, Master Yoda teaches us that the living Force will prevail over any of the elements of the Dark Side, including anger. Now tell me, why do the other Gungans make comments that bring you to this dark place?”

“Likin’ meesa said master, its being embarrassing.”

“I am not like the others, I will not make any hasty judgments nor make light of your misery. You are safe here.”

“Okee-day, Lee-po being scaredy of the water. I know meesa Gungan, weesa be living under the water! But, I get a-scared every time meesa having to be swimming. I tink that Master Yoda bein’ throwin’ me out of Jedi soon, if’n meesa don’t getting da help.”

Once Leepo fully explains, he sets down Xol’s belongings on the bed, then covers his face with his floppy, ear-like haillu and begins to cry. His sobbing continues for a few moments before Xol kneels down in front of him and pats the young Jedi on his shoulder.

“Do not cry youngling,” Xol says as he brushes the boy’s haillu away from his face. “Fear is part of the Force, however, it can lead down the path of the Dark Side, and so we as Jedi need to control our fears, master them or they will becomes our masters. Master Yoda will not have you removed from the Jedi Order simply because you have fear, he will teach you to cope with it, as he did with me.”

“Yousa being afraid of somethin’ Master Xol? Meesa tinkin’ not, yousa bein’ the greatest Jedi that ever was!”

“Thank you Lee-po but, yes I too was afraid, and Master Yoda showed me the way to conquer my fears. Great Jedi are those who know fear and yet face it head on, never letting it take control. Do you understand what I am telling you young one?”

“Yes, master, I understand,” the young Gungan says, his head down in shame.

“As I said, you have no fear as long as you are a Jedi, you should be proud that you were courageous and wise enough to seek my wisdom so that you may overcome this obstacle.”

“Meesa guess.”

“Guess all you like Lee-po, I know, trust your master. I tell you what, it was an especially warm evening last night and I would like to indulge in a swim. Perhaps, you would honor a Master Jedi with some instruction on how to do so, in turn, I shall teach you to overcome your fear of the water. Does this sound reasonable?”

“Yes’n of course, master. Meesa tank you and meesa tinkin’ it be loverly honors for me to show yousa how to be swimmin’ like da Gungans!”

With a bounce in his step, Lee-po accompanies Xol to the beach where they indulge in an early morning plunge. The cooling still waters of the early morning dance with light under their surface from the Gungan village hidden there, its inhabitants darting back and forth between bubble shaped buildings. After a couple hours of swimming with Lee-po, the pair exits the water, walking up onto the ashy, sugar sand of the beach. As it warms him, Xol crunches his clawed toes into it letting the smooth grains glide in between them. A group of Mon Calamari greet them as they pass by, to which they return their salutation before donning their robes and fastening their lightsabers to their belts. Lee-po, nods in thanks and quickly runs off toward the grove of trees where Master Yoda conducts his morning practice for Padawans and younglings. Xol laughs to himself as he notices the boy change direction realizing that he had unknowingly taken the wrong path.

The Yautja still a little damp from his swim makes his way to Sandcrawler One walking through the tall green, brown, and orange grasses of the clearing. Above he can see the activity of the canopy, Wookiee Oevvaor catamarans flit back and forth like pollinating insects, while dull grey Alliance transports remain fixed, being loaded with equipment and supplies for the upcoming assault on Yavin 4.

As he nears the Sandcrawler, He can see Master Kuro and her class of Jedi knights out front, all training in lightsaber forms and stances. With each number Kuro counts off, each student assumes an identical pose to the one she is displaying. Once Xol is closer, the white haired Jedi Master stops her class and instructs them all to sheath their weapons. As each student retracts their lightsaber, they sit on mats that lie beneath their feet patiently for the Yautja Jedi to take his place next to Master Kuro. As soon as Xol stands next to her, she dismisses her class and tells them to reconvene the following morning. Now turning her attention to her fellow master, she greets him by patting his shoulder and ushers him inside.

Once inside, Kuro sits him down at a table with her, offering him a chair, she opens a bottle of Corellian ale and pours a small amount into two waiting tumblers.

“We have been through a lot these past few months, have we not Xol?” Kuro says, tossing white hair from her face as she talks.

“Yes Anya, we have, and you have taught me much, one master to another, despite your initial hesitation.”

“Naturally I was hesitant. I was supposed to just believe that the Force guided spirit of Tyvokka had not only rescued you entirely from the Dark Side but that also you were to be promoted to Master Jedi almost instantly. Were it not for Master Yoda’s own discussion with Tyvokka I never would have believed you.”

“I am very fortunate you did, your gifts are unique within the Jedi Order and they will greatly benefit me on my quest.”

“Oh, there you go getting all holocron on me again. My gifts, as you so call them, are nothing in comparison to the proficiency in which you wield the Force. All I did was provide you with training, nothing else, had I done the same thing for Skywalker back before the Purge, we probably wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“We have discussed at length why that frame of mind is never good. You are no longer the infamous Dark Woman of the Jedi Order. You are Anya Kuro, a well-respected Master Jedi, and my friend.”

“Thanks sweet tusks, but I think it will take a little more ale and a couple games of Dejarik with you before I start buying into any of that.”

“How about we skip the ale, but as for the games, I say you are on.”

“Got room for one more?” A voice says from the doorway. “How about a little Sabacc though, Dejarik’s for overgrown aliens that go around calling themselves Jedi.”

The voice is like a vague childhood memory for Xol. Curious, he turns toward the door and says, “Dex, is that you?”

“According to ol’ fish face, its Commander Kamino now, under the command of a one Jedi General Xol for the future operations in the Yavin system.”

Excited, Xol moves to embrace his friend and with a tremendous hug, lifts him off the ground in joy. Once the Yautja puts him down, Dex removes his helmet and smiles wide from his own happiness.

“Dex, I thought for sure the Empire had found you.” The hulking Jedi exclaims.

“Almost did, evaded every blockade for seven systems before Garbee told me a safe place to go.”

“Who’s Garbee?”

“Oh, that’s what I call him, you remember that Wookiee slave Orlo the Hutt sold us? Well, it turns out he’s hairball royalty. He’s even one of the generals in the upcoming attack, Chief Berserker Garbacca or something like that.”

“I had thought he looked familiar when I met him. I am surprised he didn’t say anything.”

“He doesn’t like to tell anyone about his time as a Hutt slave. Needless to say, Orlo better watch his slimy backside for the rest of his natural life. As for Typ, Wompit and I, we’ve been doing secret operations for this new Rebel Alliance ever since we hooked up with them here on Kashyyyk.”

“Okay, what exactly is a Wompit?”

“Wompit’s the name Typ and I came up with for that Mantellian Savrip we got same time as him and Garbee.”

“Understood Dex, but why Wompit?”

“It’s what we ask him to do to doors and walls all the time, sometimes the occasional Stormtrooper. He really seemed to like it so we named him that. Savrips are not nearly as stupid as people make them out to be you know.”

“It’s really good to see you again 1165 with all that’s happened, it is good to know that some things can remain the same.”

“I hear you big guy, I was horrified to hear about your imprisonment, but hey, why do you think I came along for the assignment with Master Kuro, because of me, the Rebellion has full schematics of all the Death Star battle stations.”

“You were the secret operative?”

“If you ask me, he wasn’t that secretive at all, we barely got out of there before they had scrambled a pursuit force.” Kuro says from behind them as she pours a third glass of ale and begins to set up the Dejarik board. “Now, both of you, come sit down, we can catch up on old times together over a couple games.”

Without a word spoken, the two sit down at the table and with a toast, all three begin to reminisce and talk of each others journeys over the nearly six years since they last saw each other. The stories and revelry continue long into the night until their amusement is interrupted by an incoming transmission on Kuro’s HoloNet transceiver. With a flick of a switch on the Dejarik game table by Anya, the holographic game pieces disappear and in their place is a projection of an Alliance soldier with a band of Ewoks standing behind him, jumping over one another to see the camera.

“Master’s Xol and Kuro, this is Echo-5, scouts have encountered something, possibly Imperial, I can’t be certain,” the young trooper yells attempting to speak over the Ewoks. “My Ewokese is not very good and our protocol droid is still in repairs with the Jawas. It might just be nothing, but you asked to be contacted should anything Imperial be detected.”

“Thank you corporal, we shall make our way to you as soon as we can,” Kuro responds before ending the transmission. She turns to the other two seated at the table, “Master Xol. You and I will use speeder bikes to proceed to Echo-5’s location to investigate. Commander Dex, round up a squad and meet us there in your ship. Should this turn out to be anything than a false alarm, we will be prepared. You have your assignments, may the Force be with you both.”

“You as well Generals,” Dex replies as he salutes before securing his helmet.

As Dex exits Sandcrawler One and boards a Flash landspeeder parked outside and jets off toward the tree line. The two Jedi are soon to follow but run in the opposite direction towards Sandcrawler Two, where the Alliance keeps any vehicles not in use. Kuro and Xol requisition two speeder bikes from the hodgepodge of those available. The Alliance has had to make due with mostly scrap vehicles on Kashyyyk retrofitted by Jawa and Wookiee technicians to accommodate the various races of the camp. Anya is issued a dilapidated 74-Z speeder bike, while Xol must resort to riding a STAP due to his size and a lack of the larger model Wookiee Hummbikes in service. The pair speeds away from Sandcrawler Two at breakneck speed in the direction of Echo-5.

Xol never liked STAPs; he felt standing while going this fast without as much as a transparisteel windshield to protect you from flying off was lunacy. This thought certainly crossed his mind as they got into the forest labyrinth of Kashyyyk’s wroshyr trees. These hulking starship sized wooden behemoths flashed past in a brownish-green blur as they made their way to their final destination.

Xol arrives at Echo-5’s transmission point first; he always was on point when traversing the forest due to his keen eyesight in the darkness of the undergrowth. As he slows his STAP, he can see black smoke and bodies in a nearby fern covered clearing, one human, the rest, Ewok.

As Xol hops off his speeder bike and ignites his lightsaber, Master Kuro arrives and with an acrobatic leap she flies through the air and lands next to the Yautja, deploying her lightsaber as well. The two Jedi, walk cautiously through the tall brush, scanning their surroundings for any disturbances or enemies waiting in ambush. As they come closer to the site of the carnage, they can confirm that the dead human is the young corporal at Echo-5. Xol feels great sadness at the sight of the dead warriors but also, the fact that he did not know the young man’s name. Even in such a small encampment, sometimes there are still strangers among the enlisted forces, no names, just ranks, serial number and call signs.

From a nearby cluster of ferns, movement can be seen heading in their direction. Unsure whether it is an enemy or an ally or even just a native Kashyyyk beast, Xol stealthily moves to the right flank of it and waits for it to pass by him. As he expected it does, but as it does, he catches a whiff of its scent. He smells Ewok blood, unsure if it is a wounded Ewok or something that killed one, he approaches the movement carefully. With a tremendous leap he springs overtop it to land directly in its path. Upon his landing he scatters some of the more delicate fauna revealing beneath it a very scared Ewok scout. His dark fur and primitive spear are caked in drying red blood, some of it his. Due to his grievous wounds, the small warrior uses his weapon as a makeshift crutch to walk over to Xol.

“What happened here, small one?” The concerned Yautja says as he kneels in front of him.

The Ewok barely able to speak utters just three words before collapsing at the Jedi’s feet, “Ehda shetai dengar.”

Xol watches as the small warrior at his feet, closes his eyes and exhales one last time. The Yautja lays the spear next to the body and folds the little warrior’s arms over his chest before standing up. His shoulders slumped in sadness; he retracts his blade and turns back toward Master Kuro. As he walks back toward her, she yells out to him.

“What was it?” she says.

“Ewok scout. He was pretty badly wounded and died soon after speaking a few words.”

“What did he say?”

“I’ve hunted with them enough to become an honorary member of the tribe, so my Ewokese is pretty good. He said ‘evil warrior attack’. It’s a way in which they describe Stormtroopers.”

“So, the Empire was here? They didn’t leave any signs whatsoever.”

“That seems to be their intent, that scout had taken a couple with him, the Imperials must have grabbed their dead and got out of here just before we showed up.”

“They failed to hide their presence entirely, Echo-5 managed to get the word out to us.”

“That’s not an oversight, they meant for that to happen. Somehow they knew that we would be called out to investigate. They purposely lured two senior Jedi away from the camp.”

“For what reason Xol? To spring a trap on us?”

“No, Master Kuro. If they wanted to spring a trap, I think they would have done it by now. I think they intend an assault on the camp and wanted to make sure we weren’t there when it was executed.”

“Well then let’s go, we have to go back to the base, Master Yoda will be caught off guard.”

As they both begin to board their speeders, a rush of air project downward into the fern covered clearing scattering the plant life in all directions. Seconds later, Dex’s Wayfarer transport lands and lowers its gangway. Dex runs down to the end and waves the Jedi duo over to him. Whirling their speeders around, they pull up next to the vessel.

“DX-1165, we must hurry. There is no time for explanation,” Xol yells, his voice nearly drowned out by the combined roar of the transport engines as well as the speeders.

“I know already big guy,” Dex replies. “The Empire found us out, they are making a move on the camp, and they have elite troops swarming through the bush as we speak. It would be suicide by speeder; I should be able to fly you in there though with their air support is pretty lousy with the canopy being so dense!”

Without another word, the three board the ship, bringing their speeders aboard as well. With a surge of air, the engines of the Wayfarer fire up and propel the vessel high up above the canopy and forward toward the camp.

It may have been more than five years, but being aboard the ship, brings Xol back to a different time. As he and Kuro lock their speeders into place in the open cargo bay, the Yautja notices his trophy wall is still up, relatively untouched. Walking over to it, he runs his clawed fingers along the surface of one of the skulls. He remembers how he came to have it, the anger he once felt, and the sort of materialistic notions he used to associate with them. He is compelled to pull it down but, he can’t. It is one of the few remaining symbols of whom he is and where he comes from. He knows for sure as a Jedi, he will never add to it, nor will he ever base his achievements based solely on it. He will leave it where it is, for Dex to remember him by.

Leading Kuro through the hall to the pilot’s area he passes Typ, and Wompit, who, along with a dozen droids are attempting to prep Xol’s old Cutlass-9 patrol fighter for flight. As he and Anya reach the bridge, Xol pauses briefly to take in the surroundings. Unlike when it was just him and Dex, every station is manned and being operated. With the exception of Dex, they are all droids, made up entirely it seems of scrap parts.

“Don’t mind them,” Dex says from the central pilot’s chair. “Those are just my flight crew clankers. Typ made them for me a couple of years ago, come in real handy. Now, suit up and strap down, this is not going to be an easy trip. Xol, I have some gear set aside for you in your quarters. Hurry up and get it, we’ll be at the camp in less than ten.”

In haste, the Yautja rushes down the hall to his room. Upon opening the door, he sees something he never thought he would lay his eyes on again, his armor. Its surface still covered in the symbols of his former life, much like his skin still bears the tattoos from his training as a Dark Jedi. Symbols without the belief behind them, have no power he reminds himself as he dons his long lost family armor. With the hiss of the helmet breathing apparatus he feels a renewed sense of purpose, like his old life and his new one have reunited and now work towards a common goal.

With his cloak flowing behind him, Xol re-enters the pilot area and strap himself into an available seat. From out the forward viewport, he can see the rushing sea of green from the Kashyyyk forest below and up in the sky standing out in the cloudless night sky, is a pair of Star Destroyers orbiting the planet. The Empire has put Kashyyyk under blockade.

As they near the camp, a droid in the co-pilot station announces with static in its voice, “two minutes to drop point, Commander Kamino.”

“Copy that, P-3,” Dex acknowledges as he whirls his pilot chair around to face Xol and Master Kuro. “Alright, you better get moving, this is going to be a hot drop, you’ll deploy from the hangar area on your speeders, and we’ll land the ship any where we can so we can evac Master Yoda and as many other as we can fit in our cargo area. Wompit, the droids and I will cover you as best we can. Sound good, generals?”

“May the Force be with you commander,” Xol replies.

“You kidding me? I am Commander Dex Kamino; the Force loves me, sir.”

As they part ways, Xol takes one last look at Dex, his mind remembering the last time they separated and how long it had been before they reunited. Chasing the thoughts of despair and fear away, Xol takes Kuro again through the hall to the cargo bay where their speeders are waiting. By the time they reach the hangar, the loading bay doors begin to open and a rush of fast moving air fills the space. From outside, the sounds of battle can be heard. Red blaster fire crisscrossing the valley below, while explosions send tremors and smoke through the air. With a violent push forward, Xol and Master Kuro engage the throttle on their speeder bikes and propel themselves out the open bay door into the chaos that awaits them. The peaceful encampment they had left only an hour previous was a theatre of destruction; AT-ST walkers and Imperial speeders chasing down any who cross their path, while a white wave of Stormtroopers flood the villages and beachfront. Occasionally Sith knights can be seen engaging in combat against their Jedi equivalents, their red blades clashing against the training saber blue of their opponents.

Xol quickly loses sight of Kuro in the fray, undeterred though he races towards the central grove of trees where the command is and possibly Master Yoda. As Imperials enter his path he opens fire on them with the twin blasters mounted at the top of his vehicle, dodging their return fire with his Jedi reflexes.

As he nears the command, he notices it is surrounded by enemy troops, but out from the center is a closed, ever moving circular formation is Master Yoda, Garbacca and several heavily armed Wookiees. The distinct green bolts of their bowcasters carving a path through the opposition. Those Imperials foolish enough to get too close, are struck or flung violently by the roaring, battle ready, Wookiee soldiers.

Once Xol’s STAP is close enough, he abandons it, choosing to leap from it towards Master Yoda’s position allowing the vehicle to spin off and crash into the enemy troop formation. With a flash of red light, he ignites his lightsaber and begins attacking any Stormtroopers obstructing his path. With perfect technique, he cuts down troops all around him, occasionally the Force to push some out of his way or fling them aside. If he is fired upon, Xol deflects the bolts away from him and into his enemies with expert precision. Once he gets closer to Yoda, he yells out, “Master, there is a transport to evacuate you, we shall make our way to it now.”

“Those left behind, help them you must,” the elder Jedi responds. “Fight with you, I shall.”

“No master, not this time. You are far too important to the Alliance! You must escape this place.”

The sounds of the Wayfarer’s engines stand out from the other sounds of battle to the Yautja as Xol sees Dex maneuver the bulky craft close to the Jedi’s position. He lands the ship with the cargo bay already open, allowing Yoda and the Wookiee defenders to board quickly before taking off towards the command station in the canopy above.

Xol, now having accomplished his primary goal, looks around to see where he can lend aid all the while defending himself from the Stormtroopers on his heels. Scanning the battlefield, he can see utter turmoil at the hands of the Empire, scattered groups of Rebels fighting against an overpowering number of Imperial soldiers. Most have fled off into the tree line to evade the larger walkers and speeder bikes. One group near the Sandcrawlers catches his eye. It is a small group of Tuskens and Nelvaan protecting Jedi younglings including Lee-po. His small green training saber’s light making him stand out in the fog of war. The Tuskens armed mostly with slugthrowers and their Gaderffii sticks are being mowed down by a squad of Imperial soldiers. Lee-po, although not even a Padawan yet is proficiently blocking the blaster fire headed his way, though it does not reconnect with anything but the ground. The Yautja Jedi knows that they won’t last much longer without his aid and rushes to help them using the Force to increase his speed.

Just ahead of him approaching the group of Jedi children, dressed in his black Imperial robes is a Sith Lord. Clearly, he is the commanding officer of this particular group of Stormtroopers. In a quick, Force driven motion, the Sith rushes the Tuskens and slashes at them with his lightsaber, killing them all, leaving the younglings exposed. With no remorse he kicks the children aside, using short bursts of lightning on some to dispatch them quickly. Lee-po is unafraid as he jumps to the defense of the remaining children, his green saber drawn in front of him in a basic defense stance. Completely unphased by the gesture, the Sith commander swings at the boy, leveling a mighty overhead strike down at the young Jedi, crashing the red blade of his lightsaber against the dwarfed weapon of the youngling. The diminutive Gungan barely blocks the attack as it knocks him to the ground. Lee-po catches sight of Xol running towards him and a look of hope washes over his teary, stained, face. In his moment of distraction, the young Jedi’s fragile form is punctured by the searing blade of the Sith Lord’s lightsaber. He screams out “Help me, Master!” before his body ceases to move and lies still in the beaten tall grass of the valley.

Seeing this atrocity, Xol shouts, “No!” as he stills runs to wear the boy lay.

The Sith Lord directs his troop’s attention towards Xol, who now is making his way towards them so quickly; they cannot land a single shot. Abruptly, the Yautja ceases his speed increase and leaps forward, towards the Sith Lord, his weapons blazing red next to him as he flies through the air. As he lands he strikes against the Imperial commander, only to be blocked by his opponents saber. The two now locked against each others weapon, push against one another hoping to gain the upper hand.

“My name is Jedi Master Xol, Sith Lord and you will be brought to justice for what you have done here today.” Xol says angrily.

“For a Jedi, you sure do dress a lot like a Sith,” the commander replies in a smug tone. “You even have one of our red lightsabers. It seems to me you are on the wrong side.”

“The color of a blade nor the uniform one dresses in does not define their existence within the living Force. Now, surrender yourself and I will be merciful. Do not, and you will give me no other alternative than to kill you.”

“You don’t stand a chance, Jedi. I will never surrender to the likes of you, the Empire has won this day and there is nothing you can do to stop it or me.”

“As you wish Sith Lord. As you wish.”

With his offhand, Xol pushes his opponent back with the Force and while he is still reeling from that, the Yautja launches his lightsaber into the chest of the Sith Lord, effectively running him through. Without a moment’s hesitation, he returns the saber to his hands and begins to assault the group of awestruck, retreating Stormtroopers. With each swipe of his lightsaber, one of them dies and before long, all of them are dead. Xol can feel the rage clawing its way up inside him but he suppresses it, just as Yoda taught him, he was not going to cross the line from justice into revenge.

As the battle still rages around him, his concentration is broken by the sound of a small voice behind him. It is Lee-po and he is calling out once again for Xol. The Yautja, relieved to hear the younglings voice, races to where his body lies. The fragile little body lying there still has a gaping wound through its chest, a wound that the child will surely not survive. The other children that are still huddled there crying fearfully shy away as Xol approaches them. As the Jedi Master kneels next to Lee-po’s body, he begins to speak again.

“Master Xol,” the boy chokes. “Isa was bein da good Jedi’s huh?”

“Yes pupil, you protected the other children as any Jedi would,” Xol says, tears forming in his eyes. “Master’s Yoda, Kuro and I are very proud.”

“Master, Isa tryin’ to not being scaredy anymore, just like yousa teachin me, but, meesa scared of going to the Force.”

“You cannot be fearful, Lee-po. The living Force is like the water we swam in this morning. At first it can be scary, but soon after you realize, that it is calm and peaceful, a natural part of the world that should be embraced. Through the Force, I will always be with you and you always with me. Does that ease your mind at all youngling?”

As Xol finishes his sentence, he is surprised at what he sees. Lee-po is already gone, rejoined with the Force as all Jedi do, his physical form transcending this existence leaving only his dirty, scorched, Jedi tunic behind. This is a technique only known to the most senior Jedi. It's as if the Force took the young Gungan like a mother reuniting with a lost child.

Holding back his tears, he takes another look around the encampment. He sees only destruction and death, it seems the battle has left the vicinity and carried over into the tree line towards the command hidden in the canopy. He knows forest here, and much like all forest and jungles, they are his hunting ground. The place where he has the advantage and the Empire will not. It might be a fool’s errand, but if he does not try, the Alliance forces here will never be able to escape and make their assault on Yavin 4.

Before he sets out, he picks up some Stormtrooper blaster rifles and hands them to the younglings standing near him.
“Take these,” Xol says, as he hands the biggest children a blaster. “If any Imperial comes near you, you shoot them okay. Now, quickly. Run and hide in that Sandcrawler. You will be safe, I promise.”

Assured by his promise the younglings run towards the Sandcrawler and dart inside. Once they are safe, Xol picks up the Sith Lord’s lightsaber and runs off into the tree line, where the Alliance is fighting a nearly hopeless battle against the Empire. Will he get there in time to save them is the question he ask himself as he runs full force towards the edge of the clearing, into darkness unknown.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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

With Xol, Jedi Master Yoda and their secret operative aboard, Master Kuro and her band flee the Death Star in their Lambda class shuttle under the guise of an Imperial diplomatic team.

Before the Empire can realize the truth, they are already halfway across the galaxy. The journey is arduous as the craft must zigzag through hyperspace as to evade any possible Imperial pursuer.

During the trip, Xol is restored to partial health, but some of his more grievous wounds will need further time to heal. After five years of captivity, it seems surreal to be free of Darth Vader’s endless torture regimen. He spends most of the trip asleep on a makeshift gurney, his mind suspended in meditation with the Force.

The path ahead is unclear but, one thing he knows for certain, in his journey through the living Force, he is at a crossroads and which path he takes may decide the fate of the entire galaxy…

After the constant motion of hyperspace travel, a landing on a planet comes as a shock to the system. So abrupt is this change in pace that it rouses Xol from sleep. His eyes straining to open in the well lit crew area of the shuttle, he notices that his shabby, prison rags have been replaced by Tusken robes, a bit small for his form but warm. As he sits up, his head fogs over from a head rush and he pauses before turning sideways to step off the gurney. He notices he is alone, and the gangway has been lowered onto firm, lush, plant choked ground. Curious about his surroundings, he walks down the metal ramp and into the somewhat beaten down, waist high, foliage.

The planet around him is green and dense with flora; brilliant colors of flowers stand out against the plain brown of the titanic trees that overshadow them. Even the smallest tree’s width is greater than that of a starfighter. In very top of these hulking giants, Xol can make out structures, entire villages built just beneath the canopy. The buildings incorporate some technology and inhabitants are visibly moving about from place to place. The ship has landed at the edge of a large clearing where the forest makes way to the tawny beach of a vast, clear, blue lake.

Voices can be heard approaching Xol through the brush. They speak in the Basic tongue, a common language among Imperials. The Yautja ever cautious instinctually ducks down and stealthily hides in the surrounding tall grasses. As the voices draw nearer, the distinct voice of Master Yoda can be heard.

Feeling safe, Xol emerges from the bush, startling a couple of Tusken escorts walking with Yoda.

“Playing in the bushes you are, Padawan,” Yoda says, with a laugh. “Much to do, there is. Come now. Much to discuss with you, Master Kuro has.”

His curiosity piqued, the Yautja follows the noble elder Jedi as he and his escorts make their way towards a cluster of trees and structures near the waterfront.

As he grows closer to them, Xol can see groups of people working at the base of the beachside forest. Speeders of a plethora of different configurations are being assembled and modified, while children of many races play together near the shore.

The structures here, only slightly overgrown by plant life are actually Sandcrawlers, as least twenty in various states of operation, as well as a legless Imperial AT-AT that seems to have been turned into some sort of kitchen judging by the smell that’s coming from it. The gathering of building sized trees at the center of the primitive encampment seems to be the command center as Xol makes his way to the base of them. Stairs of rigid fungus spiral up the center tree leading to a hollow sphere shaped top. Its somewhat circular windows emanate light from within. In this courtyard of sorts, set in among the growth, six individuals, in Jedi-like garb sit on the ground, cross-legged, deep in meditation.

As Yoda proceeds up the stairs, his Tusken escorts wait at the bottom, and when Xol hesitates, the Sand People, with a grunt, usher him up them with their Gaderffii sticks. As the Yautja makes his way up the steps, he still feels the pain of his wounds suffered on the Death Star clawing its way to the surface. Nevertheless, he endures the pain finally making it to the top.

At the summit, the building is one room, completely open, filled with newly installed computer banks and display panels, uniformed soldiers walking back and forth communicating with one another, while a small gathering of what appear to be officers including Master Yoda are seated around a centralized round table. The table’s top is an active holoprojector, displaying a planetary system, presumably the one they are currently in. As Xol enters the room, the circle deactivates the projector, making it possible for the Yautja to see others seated at the table besides Yoda and Kuro.

“Xol, I presume, please take a seat,” a Mon Calamari, dressed in officers clothes says from across the table. “Master Yoda has spoken much about you and we are pleased to have you well enough to join our council today. Before we begin, I would like to introduce the rest of the leadership for the benefit of the Jedi and his new found comrade.”

“Pardon me sir,” Xol interrupts. “But, leadership for what? Who are you people?”

“The Alliance to Restore the Galaxy, or probably better known to you as the Rebellion,” the Mon Calamari responds. “We are all that stand between the Empire and total destruction of the galaxy. Our Alliance is made up of countless worlds that will fight the oppression of the Galactic Empire. Our fleet is assembling as we speak for a major assault on their main battle station, the Death Star. Are there any further questions? Or may I continue?”

“I sincerely apologize for my ignorance Admiral,” Xol says, somewhat embarrassed. “Please, continue.”

With Xol now apprised of the current situation, Ackbar continues to introduce the leaders seated at the table, going around in a clockwise fashion. To the right of him sits Generals Crix Madine and Wedge Antilles of Corellia, followed by Boss Roos Tarpals of Otoh Gunga, Queen Vallah of Naboo, Chieftain Wicket Warrick of the Ewoks of Endor, Gyrvos of the Nelvaan people, Leader Akarr of the house of Tusken Clans, Clan Leader Qut-Janii of the Dune Sea Jawas and finally, Berserker Garbacca of the United Wookiee tribes. Each non-human member of the council also has their own personal protocol droid standing beside them, mostly because some of the delegates can understand Basic but, most from a physiological standpoint, cannot speak it, like the Wookiees.

Upon finishing the introductions, the Admiral continues his speech, reactivating the holoprojector as he does so. This time the image is of a different planet, a moon actually, orbiting a larger gas giant. The image zooms in to reveal that moon itself has an artificial moon itself, the Death Star. As the image continues to close in its visual of the Empire’s battle station, Xol’s memory puts him back aboard the durasteel grey prison, the smell of its corridors manifesting from his memory.

The Yautja, snaps out of his daze at the sound of Yoda’s voice.

“Yavin 4 this is, a great place it was, for those who followed the Force. Reclaimed by the Sith it has been. Vader’s most skilled, trained they are here. Many shipyards, under construction here, stopped they must be from finishing or doomed I fear, the galaxy is. To you the floor I give, Admiral Ackbar.”

“Thank you Master Yoda,” the veteran Rebel officer says, humbly. “As General Yoda has explained, the planet Yavin 4 is a major stronghold for the Empire; it is here they have completed their last three Death Stars and three Super Star Destroyers that accompany the Emperor’s main fleet. All those vessels were manufactured while their planetary operations were still only at half their total capability. With the completion of the last few shipyards only months away, we have no choice but to mount an assault or risk facing an unstoppable Imperial war machine.”

The Admiral pauses briefly, perhaps only to collect his thoughts or perhaps the idea of an Empire that dangerous terrifies him momentarily. Nonetheless, he resumes his briefing after changing the projection on display to a topographical map of some structures on the surface. One appears to be a landing pad, the others are immense elliptical dishes seeming to project some sort of energy up into space.

“What you see here is the layout of the primary, secondary and tertiary Imperial complexes on the surfaces of Yavin 4. The first, is a troop training installation, droid foundry and Sith academy. This site alone is responsible for training nearly half of the Imperials in active service today. Its docking bay and landing area can accommodate up to a dozen assault transports at one time, so enemy drops or pickups can be as high at 42000 at a time.”

The shock of such high troop counts begins side chatter among the delegates seated at the table, so much in fact that it causes the Admiral to stop speaking entirely and wait for them to come to order. Xol can sense the fear in them all the second the Mon Calamari officer began speaking of troops. Their fear is causing a bit of unrest in the chamber, surface feelings tell the Yautja Dark Jedi that some of the leaders gathered are wishing to leave.

As the bickering between council members grows to a dull roar, Xol stands up and slams his fist against the top of the table. The abrupt concussion stops the chatter immediately and all focus turns to him. Seeing the looks of annoyance on their faces, Xol begins to explain himself.

“Member of this Alliance, I know I am very new to this delegation but, this is no time to lose focus! The Empire’s deadliest weapon, more powerful than any of their ships or battle stations is their ability to inspire fear. Admiral Ackbar is merely giving you the expected opposition, nothing more, just mere intelligence so that you in your own ways, you can make an informed decision in how best to act as a united council of free peoples. Do not let Vader’s numbers fool you, I have faced his storm troopers, his mighty Sith, even his Star Destroyers and I have found that they are far too overconfident, and it has always led to their downfall. However, if you feel that the Empire is in fact already too powerful an adversary and you wish to leave, do so, because your cowardice, and the cowardice of those you represent, will only infect us all like a disease and we shall fail in our mission. We can succeed in any endeavor, but we must outthink the hunter and in turn make him the prey, Admiral Ackbar will give us the tools we need to do just that. Each one of you is essential to our victory, so if you still feel like you can contribute to this Alliance, then slough off your fear like you would a covering of dirt and let him finish.”

Before Xol can retreat back to his seat after causing such a disruption, Master Yoda almost as if performing a rescue begins to speak. “Full of exuberance and passion, this Padawan can be. True, his message is. Hope there is, but only if work together, we do.”

As the Jedi finishes his address to the chamber, a hush resumes among those gathered, prompting Ackbar to continue his brief.
“Thank you to both of the Jedi delegates for their words of wisdom. Now, where was I? Oh yes, the secondary and tertiary installations on the planets surface are the home of immense of shield generators. One of which is encapsulating the Death Star moored here, making it impenetrable to any attack our fleet could level against it. The second generator has surrounded the newer, still unfinished shipyards. If either of these orbiting targets is to be successfully neutralized, a ground attack must be mounted to take out the shield generators. Unfortunately, our spies tell us that the Empire has a reserve power relay for both shields at the primary military installation. If that structure should be left standing, the shields will only be disabled for mere minutes, not long enough to destroy anything. Once the shield is down, our first targets will be the active shipyards and the Death Star. Both can be neutralized by fighters and our fleet commanders are briefing them on how to do that. My prime reason for being here and telling you all this information is that you, your troops, as well additional Rebel soldiers will be responsible for completing the essential ground attacks.”

Muttering begins to start among the council members again, interrupting the Mon Calamari officer. Silence falls after a few moments but before the Admiral can continue, another has decided to make his voice heard, the Wookiee berserker Garbacca.

“Who do you feel will lead us on this suicide mission, Calamari?” He growls.

“Well Garbacca,” Ackbar replies. “On behalf of the Alliance I was going to appoint Master Yoda as Jedi High General, his experience during the Clone Wars would be invaluable for this mission. He has always been a friend to the Wookiees, so I am told; does this meet with your satisfaction?”

With a grunt, the Wookiee responds, “Yes, but forgive me for asking one additional question, Admiral. Yoda is a gifted leader, but do you expect him to fully take charge of such a complex operation by himself?”

“Not at all, you and the rest of the delegates seated here will act as Master Yoda’s generals in the ground assault, as High General he will direct you, but you will have command over your troops during the operation. General Madine and Princess Leia do not armies here on Kashyyk and so, will take charge of our soldiers once they arrive on Yavin 4. Lord Xol, will be working in special operations with Jedi Master Kuro at her request. Have I put your mind at ease Garbacca?”

With an agreeable nod, the gold coated Wookiee sits down, his Ryyk blades clashing against his chair as he settles.

“Lord Xol,” Admiral Ackbar says with his gaze fixed on the Yautja. “The remainder of this briefing will only benefit those in the main fighting force, you might as well report to Master Kuro at Sandcrawler One for instruction.”

Xol, a little taken aback that he has been officially asked to leave before the meeting has adjourned, looks to Yoda for confirmation. The diminutive, green skinned Jedi with an approving nod makes a hand gesture instructing him to go. Never one to question before, he leaves the chamber and makes his way down the stairs to the ground below. Once there, he takes a minute to orient himself to his surroundings and glance around the camp a bit more. He notices that the activity level has decreased significantly since before and seems to be concentrated towards the Sandcrawlers now. As he walks towards them, he notices now that each one has been crudely numbered in white paint. Making his way toward the one labeled “One”, he can’t help but wonder what Kuro has in store for him. As he grows closer, his train of thought is interrupted by the sound of starship engines, familiar ones. He glances up to see the ship landing high in the canopy, and to his surprise, it is a Wayfarer transport, just like the one he and Dex used to fly around in. After five years aboard the Death Star, the sight of the vessel gives him a feeling of home.

Xol approaches the gargantuan hulk of the Sandcrawler, its outer area laid in such a way, it resembles the entrance to a temple. Rows of dim blue light posts staked into the ground parallel to the entrance guide Xol to the ramp that brings him inside. Once in, he almost runs right into Master Kuro as she makes her way to the same exact spot.

“Good,” she says. “I was starting to think ol’ Ackbar wasn’t going to relay my message and I would have to come get you myself. My name is Master Anya Kuro. We met only briefly when I and my men freed you from the Death Star. I have been instructed by Master Yoda to assist you in the completion of your trials.”

“What trials?” the confused Dark Jedi asks.

“Your Jedi trials, your dark past is behind you now, your quest for vengeance must now be for justice.”

“I have already endured trials, I am a Dark Jedi! Like my Master, Lord Blades.”

“Alright dark one,” Kuro says sarcastically. “How well did those teachings serve you against Darth Vader? Your mind must be clear of hatred, the Emperor will use it to destroy you and in so doing, you will fail. You have already passed your trials of skill, courage, and flesh, now you must complete your final trial if you ever hope to complete your mission and fulfill your destiny.”

“What is my final trial then? Master Kuro, I do not wish to fail in my mission.”

“You must complete a trial of the spirit. It will be your most difficult task yet and you may not survive it.”

“I am not afraid Master Kuro.”

“You will be. You will be. Behind this Sandcrawler is a patch of thick Kashyyk briars, they form a tunnel that leads to a special holy place. Your trial will begin there. Now, go. You can only return once you have completed this task.”

With hurried excitement, Xol exits the wreck and begins journeying deep into the dense bush behind it. Thorn covered vines as big as his body weave into one another making a passageway barely large enough for him to pass through safely, razor sharp barbs coming just centimeters from lacerating his skin. Crouched, walking cautiously through the briar tunnel, Xol begins to hear a sound that makes his hair stand up on the back of his neck. The mechanical, steady breathing of Darth Vader, a sound he now had associated with great pain. In a panic, he spins around, looking in all directions, desperately seeking the source of the breath. In his rush, he snags his arms and legs on the sharp thorns and begins to bleed from dozens of tiny cuts. His fear making him ignorant to the pain of these new wounds, he runs down the tunnel as fast as he can, attempting to outrun the unseen opponent. As he runs, he cuts himself multiple times on the barbed thorns before finally reaching a clearing at the end.

The clearing is filled with old standing stones, unnatural in appearance, crafted by ancient artisans at some time but fallen to ruin over time. In the center of the circular stone formation is a disc shaped piece of white rock, set directly in the center of that, is Xol’s lightsaber, the same one that he thought to of lost at the hands of the Empire. As he reaches for the weapon, he feels the presence of the Dark Side itself. It surrounds him, as if to trap him in. He knows that his weapon has a connection to the underworld of the Force, and as its creator he knows it channels great darkness through it. He knows that it would be so easy to pick up this weapon and return to the way he was years ago, before Yoda, before the torture, before this path the Force has guided him on.

He retracts his hand, instead choosing not to succumb to the lure of this vile machination created by his own hand. As he hesitates, the ground begins to shake and a dreadful, hollow, wispy voice begins to speak.

“Master, you have returned to me,” the shadowy voice says.

“I am no longer your master, you are a relic, an abomination from another time, my hatred no longer governs me,” The Yautja responds.

“Master, I am a conduit into the Force, a path carved from your anger, a path to Vader’s destruction. Do not be foolish, grasp me again in your mighty hands and use me to eviscerate your enemies once more. I will make manifest the Dark Side itself to help you on your quest.”

“No!” Xol yells. “I will not, there is a reason the Jedi locked you away all those millennia ago, I was a fool to awaken you. It is my duty now to destroy you!”

“Very well Master, if that is how you truly feel. Then your lack of faith, forces me to destroy you, you are far too weak to be worthy of my power.”

As if guided by some unseen hand, the lightsaber rights itself, ignites its glowing red blade and hovers in mid air. The swirls of darkness inside the blade, drift out of it leaving only the crimson blade behind and begin to surround the weapon. The wisps of shadow twirl on the ground kicking up dust and silt from the stone that it rest upon, the circles of ethereal blackness begins grow larger and stretch upwards, manifesting into a roughly humanoid shape. As the smoky black begins to settle, the vague figure is now more distinct, focused. The final result being a being the same size of Xol, but draped entirely in a black cloak, even the face, hand and feet are shrouded in impenetrable darkness.

Xol, watching the whole process in a horrified curiosity, attempts to look around for a weapon he might use to defend himself. Much to his horror, there is nothing, not even as much as a stick to fight off his opponent.

“You are helpless, Lord Xol. Just a fearful animal that enjoyed the hunt but wouldn’t stand a chance as prey itself, you are truly pathetic and I shall enjoy sending you the other side.”

The dark figure attacks with expert precision. He lunges at the Yautja, striking his torso with a slash, searing Xol’s flesh and sending him to the ground in agony. With his opponent knocked to the ground, the shadow walks over to the wounded Yautja, and levels the pulsing red blade at his chest.

“Any last words before I cut out your traitorous, misguided heart Xol?”

With no response, the specter of the Dark Side plunges the blade into the Yautja’s chest, the red glow disappearing in the bulk of the body, the popping sounds of burning meat now filling the quiet of the clearing.

“I knew you would die quietly, all cowards do.”

Then, as the dark figure walks away, he hears a faint sound come from the body. In shock he turns to see that Xol has not died and is trying to speak. The Yautja’s voice is so quiet though that he cannot hear, so he brings himself closer, hoping to hear pleas of mercy he had asked for earlier.

“What is it, fragile creature? Something else you have to say before you can finally brave the cold embrace of the afterlife?”

“Yes…” Xol’s voice strains.

“Well, cough it up, along with the blood in your lungs.” The shadow responds with a laugh.

In a swift, unforeseen motion, Xol grabs the still ignited saber of the shadow. In shock, the dark figure tries to pull it away, but he is unable to overcome the unprecedented strength of the Yautja.

“I am Yautja, and now, I am Jedi!”

With a turn of his arm, Xol points the lightsaber at its wielder and despite the dark figure’s best efforts to hold back the Yautja’s attack, it cannot and it too is impaled by the blazing red blade. Upon its impalement, the figure dissipates into a cloud of shrieking smoke and the lightsaber’s blade retracts back into the hilt, falling to the ground next to the body of Xol.

Xol, expecting to die, remains still but, suddenly a sensation of energy and wellness washes over him as he is almost coaxed to his feet by the Force itself. His vision clears a bit as he stands, and much to his surprise, standing before him; atop the disc shaped stone is the transparent spiritual visage of the Wookiee Jedi Master, Tyvokka. He is dressed in ceremonial robes and wears a proud smile upon his face. In his hand he holds the lightsaber, the very same one he had just used to kill the Dark Side specter with. Before he can utter a word, the spirit in a calm voice begins to speak.

“Lord Xol, you have heeded my teachings well, and those of Master Yoda. Only a true Jedi could overcome such darkness as you have defeated today. Your master, Blades was not so fortunate, but unlike the Sith he gave you the fundamentals of a Jedi, fundamentals that will continue to serve you as your journey within the Force continues. Here, on my home world of Kashyyk you have undergone one of the most arduous trials of the spirit that anyone has had to endure. You knew that in order to thwart the Dark Side within you, you had to be reborn within the Force. Now, this once foul weapon only capable of channeling the Dark Side now channels the Force itself. It, like you has been reborn, it like before will continue to serve you, but this time, in the service of justice, not some dark agenda. You are stronger now, than you ever were Xol, may you use that strength to bring peace at long last to the galaxy. So great is your wisdom, that you must now be addressed as Jedi Master, a great first this is in our order, but you are deserving of it nonetheless.”

“Master? I have only just completed my final trial, should I not be a knight?” Xol questions.

“A knight has much to learn, you need no more tutelage, and instead you will be accepting council from those around you and teach those who wish to follow the true path.” Tyvokka says as he levitates the saber over to Xol.
“Now, go Master Jedi, balance must be restored.”

“Yes, Tyvokka, I shall fulfill my destiny.”

Xol watches as the spiritual form of the Jedi fades into nothingness, back into the Force. Once the presence of the spirit leaves, Xol turns to exit the ruins and back into the tunnel of perilous briars.

He has completed his trials and become a Jedi Master. Now, he moves closer to realizing his true place in the galaxy and with the Force as his guide, he will finally overthrow Vader’s tyranny and bring peace once more.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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

Xol has been captured by the Sith ruler of the Galactic Empire, Darth Vader. The Dark Lord feels that the Yautja carries vital information that will ultimately ensure Vader’s success in conquering the galaxy.

However, the Dark Jedi is forever insubordinate and does not divulge any detail that could endanger himself, his friends, or their mission.

With each failed interrogation, Xol is returned to his cell adorned in new scars and a new perspective on pain itself. His cell mate, the famous Jedi master Yoda, teaches Jedi philosophy and technique to the warrior as he recuperates from each ordeal.

Though Darth Vader often threatened to execute Xol, his delight in having him tortured time and time again seemed to override that decision.

As the Yautja Dark Jedi’s incarceration approaches the five year mark, he wonders whether Dex is alive or not. Most of all, he wonders if he will ever escape, and fulfill his destiny to cure the unbalance in the Force by killing Darth Vader…

The cool sting of Bacta still fresh in his wounds, Xol sits on the floor, his back against the polished metal of his cell. Yoda with his legs crossed sits in front of him, his eyes closed in focused meditation.

“In pain you are,” the wise old Jedi says with a crackle in his voice. “Natural this pain is, lead you to more pain fighting it with anger will do. Remember this you must , Padawan.”

“I keep explaining to you Master Yoda, I am not a Padawan, I have been trained by a Master already.”

“Trained, you may be. In the ways of the living Force you, are still a Padawan, Xol. Teach you lessons I will. Give you an advantage against Vader I will.”

“For the past five years you have taught me nothing but meditative technique, and Jedi philosophy. The Great Holocron tells of your incredible fighting prowess, that is what I should be learning to defeat Vader!”

“A great fighter, you already are Xol. A crude but efficient blade, fired by hate, anger, and pain, you are. Tempered like a blade you must now be, the living Force, quench you it will and you will grow stronger than ever before.”

“I understand master but, I am no Jedi.”

“Yes, a Jedi you are not, foundation there is still. Be mindful, you must, that your Master, Lord Blades was once a Jedi himself, when our Order was still young, before the Sith.”

“Very well Master Yoda, I will follow your superior wisdom.”

The pair engages in meditative exercises, unmoving even when food is delivered through the slot in the bottom of the door several hours later. Xol’s mind drifts into thoughts of the future, his earlier precognitive abilities taught by Tyvokka’s holocron now made stronger with Yoda’s focused meditation. Great images of war, destruction and his own death shake him from his trance in a panic, instinctively reaching for a lightsaber that is not there.

Yoda, gracefully levitating cross legged in mid air, open his eyes and approaches the now shivering Yautja. “Calm, you must be,” the elderly Jedi says in a soothing tone. “Uncertain, your future is, what you witnessed was one of many outcomes, not truly realized, and so changed, it can be.”

“Thank you master, your assurances always seem to aid me. Master, something bothers me, I read in the Great Holocron of Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi knight that became Darth Vader. The holocron never discusses why he fell to the Dark Side, simply that he did, influenced by a Sith lord that became the first Emperor of the Galactic Empire.”

“Omitted the real reason was,” Yoda regales, his tone saddened. “Possessive love, attachment it was, in the end took Anakin down the path to the Dark Side. Loved a young woman so much he did, that marry her and father their twins he would . Even from the Order, kept his secret, he did.”

“What happened to this woman master?”

“Destroyed by the Dark Side, she was. Her and Skywalker, a great loss this was, and the beginning of this dark time it became.”

“What of the children Yoda? Does Anakin Skywalker still have progeny?”

“Born they were, yes. Away they were taken, hidden from their father. Rumored it is, that Emperor Palpatine had found them and killed them he did. At the hands of the Dark Side,  so much loss there is.”

Yoda’s eyes began to well with tears, yet he did not cry. The hurt suffered at the hands of the Empire cutting the venerable Jedi deeper that the most finely tuned lightsaber. Xol strained to think of another topic so that he may divert the master’s attention away from the painful memories. But, before he could, the sounds of blaster fire, and the distinctive humming of a lightsaber as it swings through the air can be heard just outside their cell block door. Perhaps a prisoner has escaped and the Stormtroopers with their Sith commander have pacified them. Xol remembers his attempt at escape had got him as far as the nearest hangar before he was subdued; his shoulder still ached with the memory of that incident. Yoda had to use his gifts to mend the shattered bone there, an injury so severe Bacta wasn’t enough to heal it.

As his thoughts returned to the present, the sounds of combat outside had stopped, and to his surprise, he could see a hand surrounded by energy piercing through the cell door, not in the way a blade pierced but penetrating it as if it were water or air. As more of a person emerged through the door, Xol stood up, warding off pain as best he could so that he may defend himself against this stranger if necessary.

As the humanoid figure fully passes through the front of the cell, it takes off its helmet to reveal a female, youthful in appearance with long white hair. In a rushed fashion, she takes assessment of Xol and master Yoda and then with a look of concern turns back to the Yautja and says, “Xol, right? Are you and Master Yoda able to walk, we need to get out of here before anyone notices that we’re here.” Drawing two lightsabers from a satchel slung across her body, she motions to the pair and asks, “Are you both able to handle one of these? We really could use the help.”

With a nod, Xol takes one of the weapons from the woman’s open palm and hands the saber with the smaller hilt to Yoda. Their construction is crude but effective, as if built by Padawans. Before they can exit the cell, the strange woman first phases through the cell door again and opens the door from the outside. Without hesitation the three run down the hall of the detention block, the Force increasing their speed as they go.

Upon exiting the holding area, making their way into a main corridor aboard the Death Star they are met by an unlikely band of rescuers, Tuskens and Jawas with a few Astromech droids all dressed in covert black. Even the droids had been altered to look Imperial in origin. The smoldering, armored corpses of storm troopers scattered down the hall show the way in which they came.

“Master Yoda,” the white haired woman says in a commanding voice. “We await your orders, our vessel is waiting in a cargo bay on this level and we still have an operative on station completing our secondary objective.”

“Escape, we must.” Yoda says after thinking for a moment. “As soon as the second objective is complete, depart, we will. As for you, Master Kuro, well, you have done. Good to see you, it is.”

“This is Master Kuro?” Xol says, in surprise.

“She is, yes. Not as I had foreseen your meeting this is.” Yoda replies, looking straight up make eye contact with the tall Yautja.

Kuro, busy conversing with her odd assemblage of soldiers did not hear the conversation between the pair. A moment later she waves them over to her, signaling that they are about to head back toward the cargo bay where their vessel is waiting. A pair of Jawas with a single Astromech in tow move ahead of the group, presumably scouting out the route ahead. The remainder of the troops are surprisingly well disciplined and efficient in their procedure as they move down the hall, scanning from side to side and checking side corridors all the way along. Yoda deploys his lightsaber and assumes a defensive posture. Xol follows suit assuming that the Jedi’s advanced experience may be telling him something the Yautja is not aware yet of in spite of his acute senses.

After traveling a quarter of the way, the group comes to a halt at the sight of one of the scouts making a stop motion with his hand. Tuskens begin to spread out, in choreographed formation, assuming defensive positions behind support pieces and dips in the walls that surround them. The Jawas and droids stay with Xol and Yoda surrounding them in a semi-circle, blasters panning from left to right, surveying the hall ahead.

With another hand gesture signifying all clear from the scout, the group takes up their previous positions and proceeds once more down the hall. As the straight corridor bends around a corner, the scouts temporarily are obstructed from sight. Just as they disappear around the bend, the sound of a blaster being discharged can be heard, followed soon after by the screams of Jawas and several small explosions causing flying debris from shattered droid bodies to emerge into the line of sight.

“Master Yoda,” Xol says his voice strained from pain. “You, Master Kuro and her soldiers should proceed another way, I sense a dark presence ahead. One that would intend to harm you, according to my mission, I cannot let that happen. The Jedi must be reestablished, and you dear master, are the personification of that order at this time, so I will guard your retreat, you and Kuro are the only two Jedi left, you are more important than I.”

“Speak, like a Jedi, you do. May the Force be with you Xol.”

“You as well, Master Yoda.”

As the Jedi and soldiers make their way down a side corridor Xol, his body still in tatters, walks down the hall igniting his newfound lightsaber as he goes. Its bright orange blade swirling in turmoil, its emitter and power crystal are unstable, it will be lucky to survive this battle. Then again, he thought to himself, so will he.

As Xol rounds the corner, a full compliment of stormtroopers at his back, a Sith knight in his black uniform and cloak, walks towards Xol with a look of focus upon his face. His lightsaber’s ruby red blade drawn out at his side, ready for a strike, his form almost perfect, denoting a level of training far superior than that of Xol’s past Sith opponents. The knight’s stormtroopers remained at attention, unmoving as he advances ever closer to the Yautja.

In a thick Imperial accent the Sith warrior looks at Xol and utters, “At last Emperor Vader has let loose the beast from its cage. Academy rumor has it that you are a formidable duelist, for inhuman swine.”

“Better to be inhuman swine, than a Sith,” Xol says, goading. “Honestly, in my experience the only true warrior among you is Vader, and he received most of his training through the Jedi Order.”

Xol can feel the Sith knight’s hate welling up inside him, his tactic was working; he began to understand why Yoda chose to train his mind more than anything else during their time together.

In a fury, the Imperial lunges forward, leaping high into the air, propelled by the Force, once there, with a scream of anger he throws his ignited lightsaber like a javelin directly at Xol. The still sluggish Yautja is unable to dodge clear and the red blade plunges into his left shoulder, sending him to his knees from pain. Although the wound cauterized almost instantly, the blade still superheats the wound sending wave after wave of intense torture coursing through his body.

The Sith knight lands, and seeing his quarry wounded and unmoving, idly strides over, as if already sure of his victory over the much larger opponent.

“It appears as though the Emperor has had you caged too long, you are a pathetic excuse of a creature, and I would be doing you a service by putting you out of your misery.”

With a reaching open palm the Imperial extracts his weapon from Xol’s shoulder and once it returns to his hand assumes a striking stance. As he comes in for the coup de gras Xol manages to raise his own lightsaber in defense, just barely blocking the downward slash in time. With the two weapons locked, crackling with energy as they rub against one another, the Yautja stands, dwarfing his much smaller Imperial adversary. Xol can feel fear taking the place of hate inside his opponent, filling with hope that his years of incarceration hadn’t changed his effectiveness as a warrior. With a Force push, he breaks his lock with the Imperial sending him back a few feet scrambling to keep his footing. In response, the Sith flares out his hand sending arcs of lightning streaming towards Xol, but instead of defending or taking cover, the Yautja chooses to retract his saber and take the full brunt of the attack. At this moment, Yoda’s teachings come flooding back and Xol begins to intensely focus his mind, all the while allowing the lightning to wrap around him like a constricting python. The Sith, now confident in victory once more, retracts his own saber, drops it to the ground and uses his now available hand to produce lightning as well. Xol ignorant to the pain is now fully engulfed in Dark Side electricity, his mental state allowing him to tolerate far more than he ever did before. Then, as if willed by some unseen hand, the lightning swirling around Xol begins to shed off of him and form into a brilliant blue sphere of energy directly in front of him, arcs from the Sith knight’s attack still colliding with it. As the sphere becomes larger the Imperial ceases his display of power, frustrated that his barrage has proved ineffective against the Yautja. In a fit of rage he once again deploys his lightsaber and charges full on toward Xol, a crazed look in his eyes. Xol, sensing his enemy drawing near, opens his eyes and in one elegant motion, pushes the sphere of energy outward toward the charging Sith. The blue orb races in the direction of its target, sending bolts of lightning spewing out in all directions, searing small holes in the surrounding metal of the hallway before colliding finally with the Sith warrior exploding in a torrent of Force energy so powerful it knocks Xol off his feet and buckles many of the surrounding support structures. The Imperial is disintegrated upon impact and many of his stormtroopers well over one hundred feet away are sent to their feet.

The Imperial soldiers begin to right themselves to a standing position, picking up their blasters and some of the comrades that are having more difficulty. In expectation of their impending attack, Xol motions his lightsaber in front of him and assumes a defensive posture. The blade of the sub-par saber however, will not ignite meaning that more than likely its energy cell was overloaded during the lightning attack. Xol had seen this before when he used training sabers against Master Blades. Defeated, he drops the lifeless hilt to the ground and takes assessment of his available exits so that he may retreat. Taking a look around, he notices the supports warped by the explosion, which give him a clever idea. Even though he is without cover, he allows the stormtroopers to advance on him, their blaster’s rapidly firing bolts as they march in well disciplined and coordinated formation. Each bolt that comes too close, Xol deflects away by the sheer will of the Force, the task is tiring and extremely dangerous, but essential given the situation.

As the Imperial troopers enter now the extinguished blast radius, they begin to charge, hoping that their fifty-to-one advantage will ultimately win the day. Once they are all within the damaged section of the hall, Xol turns his focus to the walls and using all his concentration and will within the Force, pulls at them. Blaster bolts now unobstructed strike the Yautja’s abdomen sending shockwaves of agony rippling through him. However, Yoda’s mental techniques allow Xol to maintain his focus and even ward off the pain while he continues to pull at the sides of the corridor. With a loud snap of support cables and the creak of durasteel, parts of the ceiling begin to fall down atop some of the Imperial troops below. Then finally with one last triumphant crash the support beams and walls give way sending tons of rubble crashing down upon the Stormtroopers, crushing them under the intense weight. The passage is all but blocked by the amount of debris.

As Xol releases his grip, the blaster wounds he suffered now become more apparent and he realizes that if he does not make an exit immediately to the cargo bay and the escape craft, he will not survive another encounter like this one. Luckily much like his injury from the saber, the bolts cauterize flesh upon impact thus inadvertently preventing blood loss by the victim. He struggles and limps to a side hallway where hopefully he can circumvent this self made chaos and rejoin Masters Yoda and Kuro.

The Death Star is a labyrinth of grey durasteel and endless control panels. Mouse droids skitter about the cold black floors going about their duties, completely ignoring Xol as he struggles by them, using the wall to brace himself as he goes. The occasional technical officer or stormtrooper patrol walking by are avoided by the Yautja, who even in his current state is still stealthy and hides in side hatches or halls whenever he comes into contact with an Imperial. He knows that he is going the right way, his many years spent with Yoda have made him very familiar with the Jedi’s scent and the trail takes him down his current path.

Finally, after running the gauntlet of the Empire’s prize space station, he arrives at the cargo bay. There, waiting for him beside the battle-scarred Lambda class transport is the motley mercenary group, still so cautious that they draw their weapons as he enters through the access port. Upon seeing that it is Xol, they lower their blasters and a few Tusken’s rush over to him to assist him as he moves to the ship. He is thankful for the help as his muscles ache so much that he is near collapse; years suffering at the hands of Darth Vader’s torture have taken their toll. By the time he is brought to the ship he is near unconscious, lucid from his natural endorphins compensating for his severe injuries.

Tuskens and Jawa’s move Xol together onto the floor of the transport and begin opening various medical kits and set to work patching up his various wounds the best they can.

Yoda, stands by the shattered Yautja’s body, kneels down and speaks calmly into his ear, “Full circle, we have come, you and I. Like the first day we met, this is. My advice, same today as then it was. Rest, Padawan. Rest, for the future. Your strength you will need.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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

Upon receipt of Count Raxus and his ship, Orlo the Hutt surprisingly rewards Xol and Dex with five times the agreed payment.

In addition, the crime lord gives them a selection of droids and mechanical components taken from his various junkyards on Ord Mantell.

As agreed in their contract, the Hutt signs over three of what he claims to be his best slaves.The three include a Jawa droid engineer named Typ, an unnamed Wookiee possibly a warrior and finally a gargantuan Mantellian Savrip, reputed to be incredibly ferocious and strong but dumber than a box of womprats.

With this newly formed band of miscreants, Dex and Xol set out, departing from Ord Mantell and making their way further into the Outer Rim. With Raxus’ seizure, they suspect, now more than ever, that the Empire is aware of their presence there.

With the Hutt’s task behind them, and enough credits to fund their fight against the Empire. The nameless Wayfarer transport plunges into the depths of hyperspace towards a final destination always in flux. The Force was with them now; the only question was for how long…

Xol had always liked hyperspace, the certain calm he felt as the universe passed by. He usually took this time to meditate or engage in study, but this time he was working with Typ on designing droids that utilized techniques he has just learned from the Sith Holocron of Darth Kla. While the Jawa and Xol engaged in their constructive exchange of ideas, the Wookiee and the Savrip were engaging in hand-to-hand drills. It seemed that the gold colored Wookiee truly was a warrior of a special breed. Dex told a story once about Wookiees so strong and fierce they were given the title “berserker”. Perhaps this new arrival was one of these creatures his comrade had spoken of.

With the final droid plans decided upon, Typ and his brigade of droids set to work. Xol, thankful that the technical banter had ceased was looking forward to taking some quiet meditation time alone in his quarters. As he walked through the hall rounding the bend to his chamber, a sudden shunt to the starboard side of the ship sent him grasping him in reflex for something to grab hold of. The transport regained its stability a few moments later, however, the incident had made Xol curious and he proceeded towards the cockpit instead of stopping at his quarters.

With a whish of hydraulics the door slides open and Xol enters only to find Dex heading towards him. It seems as though they both had the same idea.

“Xol, I meant to call you up here but it appears our communications are being jammed somehow,” Dex says, in a panic.

“Steady your mind 1165, what exactly happened to cause that effect?” Xol replies his voice steady, but firm.

“As near as I can tell, we hit a gravity field like that of a small planetoid and it dropped us right out of hyperspace. However, there doesn’t seem to be any stars, moons or planets in the sector that could do that to our system, not to mention, it still doesn’t explain the interference with our communications.”

As Dex thinks of possibilities, his facial expression turns from one of puzzlement to a look of dread. Abruptly he runs back to his pilot station, slamming himself into his seat.

“Xol!” he shouts. “Get strapped in, we are in a lot of trouble”

Confused but trusting in his compatriot’s recommendation, Xol sits at his station on the command deck and begins to fasten his harness quickly.

“What is it Dex?” the Yautja questions, worried of the answer.

“He’s here. He’s found us! We’ll be lucky to escape!” Dex replies in a panicked breath.

His worried curiosity still piqued, Xol inquires further, “Who has found us Dex?”

With no reply, he asks again, this time in a more affirmative tone. “DX-1165, report our situation immediately!”

“The Emperor. The Emperor is here.” Dex says before being interrupted mid sentence by the horrifying sight appearing before them in the blackness of open space.

From the forward viewport, the pair can see streaks like a swarm of insects exiting the void of hyperspace. The grey hulls of star destroyers scattered in formations with a considerable gap between them. The empty space between the groups gives Xol the hope of escape. As soon as his hope builds it is shattered into a million pieces by the most awe inspiring, yet terrible sight he has ever seen.

Super Star Destroyers, three of them, they were just as formidable as his master had told him so long ago. They would present too great a challenge for him to just cast aside with the Force as he done with the arrogant commander Tykon’s fleet near Ilum. However, the space between ships was still too vast to be for tactical reasons. What were they waiting for?

Then as if like a great puzzle were being solved by the placement of its last piece. Emerging into the hole in the battle group configuration was the spherical, steel grey of the moon sized battle station, the infamous Death Star. Like an armored god, it sat behind the ships that preceded it, motionless, unnatural, invoking images of absolute destruction by its dreaded superlaser.

Dex, clearly drained of his will to go on, turns in his pilot chair to face Xol and says, “It’s him on the comm., he wishes to speak to you. Alone.”

“I will speak to him in my quarters then. Try and find an opening, some way past their defenses so that we may jump to hyperspace.” Xol says as he stands up from his chair, heading towards the exit.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Dex sits up a little and begins darting from console to console analyzing the data they are displaying.

As Xol enters his room, he ensures that nothing that surrounds him to give away any vital information of their mission. Once confident in its discrete appearance he presses the switch to transfer the video feed awaiting him to the display in his room. With a crackle of the signal coming to life on the diminuitive screen, Xol now meets the cold dark gaze of his destined enemy, Darth Vader.
With a mechanical breath, Vader begins to speak, his voice menacing, echoing with the Dark Side itself. “I presume you are Xol. Yes, I know who you are, just as plainly as you know who I am. I know why you seek me out. I present an offer to you that you may want to consider.”

“I will never join you Vader, you need not even ask!” Xol snaps.

“How presumptuous you are! I would never ask scum like you to join my Empire; you will serve as an example to those who dare oppose me.”

“Then what is your offer Darth?”

“So, you know my Sith title, it seems that inferior teacher of yours knows his history. My offer is this. You surrender to me, so that you may fulfill your destiny and fall by my hand and I will let your insignificant little companions go. Should they cross me again, they too will die but not by my blade but by the firepower of a capital ship.”

“And, if I refuse Sith Lord?”

“Then, I will destroy you and your friends here and now, even your midichlorians will not survive the onslaught of my fleet!”

Xol’s anger was building inside him; he knew that there was only one solution that would prevent the utter annihilation of Master Blades’ vision for the galaxy. He knew that he would have to face Vader, one day. Yet he felt so unaccomplished, like he still had a long life ahead, one that as of this moment was possibly coming to an end. He would never see home again, never go on the great hunt, tell stories of his adventures here. He never felt so alone. Slowly he begins to hang his head, his eyes staring submissively downward.

“I will do as you ask,” the Yautja says, his voice heavy with regret. “I will surrender to you, but only if you act as you have said, and let my comrades go.”

“You have my word, Lord Xol, they will not be harmed.” Darth Vader replies, his breathing cold and mechanical with every pause. “My men will come aboard to collect you and bring you to my throne room. Agreed?”

“Denied, Sith.” Xol responds angrily. “You would surely violate our agreement if you or your troops were allowed to come aboard. I will come to you Darth.”

“You are hardly in a position to make demands, but I will allow it this time. Your insubordinate tongue will be dealt with soon enough.”

“You will receive my signal within the hour, Sith Lord. Be ready.”

Responding only with a breath, Vader ends the communiqué and the screen goes black.

Xol, taking some pride in goading the infamous Sith, takes a moment to take some deep breaths before opening up a new channel on the communicator. Awaiting the prompt of the red indicator light, Xol begins to speak. “DX-1165, meet me in the cargo bay immediately.”

Xol then begins to remove all of his armor and Yautja weapons leaving only his lightsaber clipped to his robes belt. He takes a moment to look at the armor lying on his simple bunk one last time before exiting his chamber and making his way down the hall to the loading area.

Upon entering the bay, Xol can see Dex impatiently assembling and disassembling his blaster atop a cargo container. As he grows closer, Typ, the Wookiee, and the Savrip cease their activities and stand beside the nervous Clone Commando. Once Xol comes within a couple of feet of Dex, the veteran soldier cocks his weapon and says, “We’ve all just agreed. We will fight the Empire here and now, rather than be taken prisoner.”

“No, my friend,” Xol says with a smile. “You will space me, and while Vader comes to save his prize, you will make your escape to a location that even I will not know of.”

“No,” Dex exclaims. “You’re insane if you think I am going to let that happen. I cannot let them kill you, like some hull-sucking Mynock.”

“DX-1165, do not question my order! Our mission’s success is paramount. My living is not. You will continue the mission, find some remnant of the Jedi Order out there in the galaxy, and seek out a female named Kuro, she is essential somehow in the successful completion of this task.”
“Honestly, I don’t think we can do it without you, Xol.” Dex replies softly, tears welling up in his eyes as he accepts the truth of the Yautja’s words.

“Quiet your troubled mind, my friend. Let the Force be your guide. Trust your feelings and should destiny wish it, we shall see each other again. Now, do as I have commanded, and may the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you Lord Xol.”

After ushering the rest of the crew to a safe area in the cargo bay, Dex begins opening the outer hatch with a flip of a large lever. Alarms sound in the bay and lights flash as the exterior pressurized door slowly opens. With a whoosh the air of the hatch exits rapidly, pulling Xol close to its increasingly larger open maw. Using Force techniques, the Yautja prevents himself from being sucked out prematurely in the blackness beyond. Once the door opens a sufficient amount, he ignites his lightsaber and turns to meet the eyes of his friends who are peering out at him through a small transparisteel safety window. With a nod of reassurance, he leaps forward into the abyss. Cold fills his every fiber as he floats outward in the direction of the Imperial fleet, which, by now, is moving to intercept him. As he twirls frozen in the void, he manages to turn and catch one last glimpse of the Wayfarer transport before it disappears into hyperspace. Two grey streaks of Star Destroyers enter lightspeed shortly after them. It is just as he had presumed, Darth Vader had no intention of keeping his word, and they were all enemies to the Empire, in the Emperor’s eyes, worthy of only a slow, painful, death. Xol can now feel the life draining from him and as his vision grows dim and finally dark, he thinks of home.

Black makes way to white and muffled sound, as Xol to his own surprise, begins to regain consciousness. His surroundings are warm, and what smells he can pick up at first tell him he is encircled by Imperials, their uniform’s material have a distinct odor to him. His skin is slick with some liquid, an antiseptic smell about it, similar to the medicine’s he has in his field kit. Feeling around his body, he brushes against the familiar fabric of his tunic and robe, and senses the presence of his lightsaber. His vision becomes clearer and he can make out rough shapes of figures standing over him. They are medical droids, but he is not in any medical bay. He is set out on the floor of a cold, grey, empty hangar. As he tries to stand up, his legs and arms scream with fiery pain, making him waiver as tries to right himself. Once fully upright, the droids hover away from him, called away by an unseen master. Laboriously, he begins to dress his still slick naked form in his clothes, fastening his lightsaber back onto his belt. His eyesight still not fully recovered, he screams out in anger, “Vader! Why have you brought me back?” With no reply he repeats his question to the still quiet of the empty hangar.

Then, like an oncoming storm thundering from beyond his line of sight, Xol can hear the breathing, the steady percussive breaths of his predestined foe.

“So,” Vader begins. “You thought that you could steal the glory of killing you away from me, all in an attempt to save that pathetic band of miscreants. You are a fool Xol. Soon, I will have the artifacts you found on Ilum, and all the knowledge they contain, as well as any information you might have. Then, vile creature, you will die.”

“I would rather suffer a thousand deaths than tell you anything Darth. You are wasting your time.”

“You have another alternative, Xol. Freely relinquish any knowledge you have, pledge your allegiance to me and you can become one of the galaxy’s most powerful Sith Lords.”

“I shall never join your Empire and you upset the balance of the Force. My master, a practitioner of the Dark Side just like you knew this, yet you in your power mongering and arrogance do not. No, Vader, your Empire must be stopped and I would rather die than aid you in your foolish, narcissistic, cause.”

“So be it, Dark Jedi,” Vader says, his voice becoming stern. “So be it.”

With a red flash of his lightsaber, Vader emerges from behind the veiled darkness of a shadow and strikes toward Xol. The Yautja still half blind, reaches out with the Force for his weapon. With a twirl it races to his open palm and ignites just in time to block the first blow of the Emperor. The collision of the two blades sends a thunderclap echoing through the hangar, the swirling black of Xol’s saber holding firm against the furious crimson onslaught of Vader’s weapon. The two exchange blows, blocking and parrying each others attacks with artful skill, sending flashes of red light dancing against the dark walls nearby. His reactions compromised by his poor sight, Xol fails to block a flurry of blows directed at him and is struck by three slashes across the chest, though not deep wounds, the pain of a lightsaber strike is nearly indescribable, a mix of searing pain from flesh being cooked after the blade effortlessly cuts across the skin. The pain is too much to bear; Xol falls to his back, his chest wounds still steaming. In the fall, his weak hand is not able to keep a grip onto his lightsaber and it rolls away from him. As to attempts to summon it back to hand, his vision becomes eclipsed by the glow of Darth Vader’s blade pointed at his head.

“Do it, Sith coward!” Xol shouts, angry that in his current state, he was unable to fight this enemy any better than when he was an apprentice.

“You are much more valuable to me alive Xol.” Vader replies, retracting the blade of his lightsaber before walking away, his cowl flowing behind him.

“I knew you didn’t have it in you,” Xol says with a taunting laugh. “Isn’t that right…Anakin?”

Darth Vader stops immediately, turning to face Xol’s body again, he raises both his arms in front of him fanning out his fingers and closing them slowly in a gripping motion.

The Yautja can feel the Dark Side manifesting all around him, stronger than he has ever felt before in his life. Then with a sudden burst, a weight like that of a planet crushes him downward. The floor of the hangar compresses with him ten feet in all directions He can feel the pressure snapping bone, crushing organs, and cracking his skull down the center. The agony is unbearable as he feels like he is torn asunder from the inside. As the pain rapidly overtakes his tolerance for it he passes out, once again descending into the black of unconsciousness. As he slips away he can hear Vader uttering a final warning.

“Never speak that name in my presence again.”

An indeterminate amount of time later, Xol finds himself in a situation that inspires feelings of déjà vu. His skin is slicked with antiseptic and he can barely see. It would seem that his death would not come as soon as he would have thought. His eyesight had returned but he still couldn’t see in the blackness of the room, though his people’s night vision was excellent, there was no source of light for his eyes to amplify. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, it hurt everywhere but, still he tried to sit up. As he attempted an upright position, a voice from the shadow’s interrupted him.

“Injured, you are still,” said the familiar voice. “Rest, you must. All your strength you will need, for the future. When you are well, help you I will to fulfill your destiny, young one. But for now dark one just rest, yes, rest…”

Xol, calmed by the voice, leans back to lie on the floor and allow the aura of fatigue to overtake him and drift off into slumber, reassured by the unseen speaker that sits next to him.

TO BE CONTINUED…