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

After plummeting into the wastes on the surface of Ord Mantell in the class-6 escape pod, Xol spares no time in finding Dex. He knows he has days before the Empire brings their whole fleet to the planet in the wake of what he did to the Super Star Destroyer.

Joined by the young seer Qiin, he goes to the only place he knows to be a haunt of Orlo the Hutt, the Lady Fate Casino in Worlport.

The pair purchases a low cost speeder from a local farmer they happen across and make haste for the capital city.

Xol worries that he may be six years too late, despite what stories Dark Lord Blades told him of Dex’s incarceration…

The dilapidated X-38 speeder, chugs to a halt on the outskirts of Worlport. Its skyline, nearly unchanged since Xol’s last visit, however its skies are teeming with TIE fighter patrols. Stormtroopers can be seen roaming the streets in force and guarding checkpoints entering the bustling metropolis. With a hiss the passenger canopy opens and Xol turns to Qiin.

“Young one, this is not your fight and this is where we must part ways.” Xol says with his pointed finger outstretched.

“No Master Xol,” she refuses. “I can see my path and if I should leave you now, it will result in both our deaths.”

“Then that is our path, there is no use in denying the will of the Force.”

“What complete and utter lies you tell yourself!” she snaps. “You don’t want me along because you think I am too young and inexperienced to be of any use in your search for your friend.”

“How do you know my thoughts Qiin?” Xol says suspiciously as he reaches for his lightsabers.

“It is not as you think Jedi Master!” the young Nautolan insists as she holds out her hands. “I am adept at reading the minds of others, even those that bury their thoughts as well as you. I do not see all of what is offered but I do receive glimpses.”

“Well, in the future, do not intrude on my personal thoughts without permission or I will extinguish our travel arrangement without even a moments notice. Is that clear?”

“You mean you are going to take me with you after all?” she replies, excitedly. “Oh master thank you! I will not let you down, I promise.”

“I trust that you won’t, but in the future refer to me as Xol, I am not your master. Now we must gain entrance to Worlport, go to the Casino and find Dex befor…”

“Dex Kamino?” Qiin interrupts. “Do you mean Dex Kamino?”

“Yes, that was the name he used, how do you know this man?”

“Katarus won me from Orlo the Hutt in a game of Sabacc. Another slave that Orlo lost that night was Dex Kamino. He was kind to me and always knew how to make me laugh even when I was at my worst. He was treated far worse than I, often nursing a fresh new set of wounds every time I saw him.”

“Who won him from Orlo, Qiin? Do you remember?” Xol asks insistently.

“A Neimodian businessman named Mok. Mok Sur Tinn, I believe. He owns a few nightclubs throughout the city. He collects Force sensitives and old Sith artifacts, I know because he offered Orlo a fortune for me on multiple occasions but was turned down each time.”

“Well if you show me the way to this Neimodian, I will take care of the rest.”

“One step at a time Xol, first we must find a way into the city.”

“I have already decided the best course of action to do just that, so if you intend on coming along I suggest you fasten your safety harness and be ready to fight if necessary.”

With a zip of her harness straps tightening, Qiin responds with a smile, “Ready when you are!”

Xol closes the canopy of the speeder and throttles towards a sentry post that lies ahead. Three Imperial Stormtroopers armed with repeating blasters inspect the documentation of all those that pass through their post. A lone officer in her black tunic oversees the operation, punching information into a datapad as each person proceeds passed. The pair approaching in their speeder is waved over by one of the soldiers.

“Identicard please,” the trooper says sternly as they pull alongside him.

“I’m sorry Imperial,” Xol says snidely. “I do not possess an Identicard, will this be sufficient enough?”

Xol reaches to his belt and presents his lightsaber. In shock and panic, the Stormtrooper points his weapon at the vehicle and shouts for the other guards. As they gather around the vehicle with their weapons drawn, Xol concentrates with the Force and prepares himself.

“Foolish Jedi,” the officer says as she approaches from behind her soldiers. “Did you actually think you could intimidate a hardened, battle-ready squad of Imperial soldiers with your antiquated weapon?”

“That was not my intent whatsoever however I did want you to be close enough to hear this,” The Yautja explains as his voice becomes darker and his eyes glow red with energy. “We are Imperial attaches, and it is your personal duty to safeguard our travel throughout the city, clearing us through checkpoints and anything else requested of you. Agreed?”

Under the Jedi’s powerful persuasive trance, the soldiers and their officer repeat Xol’s exact words in unison back to him. The Imperials lower their weapons and abandon the guard post for their nearby speederbikes. Taking up formation around the Yautja’s speeder, Xol instructs them forward to the Lady Fate Casino. In compliance, the two lead Stormtroopers embark leading the pair through chaotic Worlport traffic. With the troopers guiding them through, no guard patrol or checkpoint even pauses to stop them as they travel through the city.

In transit Qiin and Xol converse to pass the time. “Xol,” she asks. “Your actions aboard Katarus’ vessel surprised me, I had assumed the Jedi were incapable of such actions.”

“You’re right, young one. Jedi are.”

“Are you not a Jedi Master?”

“Once I was, and a Dark Jedi knight before that. I have explored the Force and all its facets and now I am forced to become something outside of the teachings of the Jedi and superior to the instruction of the Sith.”

“Will you teach me?”

“As I said young one, I am no longer a Jedi Master. I cannot teach you their ways. Their ways have died in this galaxy, and with them a part of me has perished also.”

“I do not seek any instruction but yours, not the Jedi nor the Sith. I only want to learn from you.”

“Why do you volunteer so readily to follow me down this darkened path Qiin?”

“I know your thoughts Xol, and I can see your path ahead is unclear, always fluctuating within the Force. Even with that uncertainty, I can sense that you are an instrumental figure in the shaping of my destiny. I wish to learn if you still have it in you to teach.”

“Very well Qiin, I still do not understand your reasoning entirely but if you want to learn that badly then I shall take you under my wing. You shall be my apprentice.”

Immensely happy with his decision, she reaches over and hugs his arm tightly, thanking him excessively. Xol can sense great confusion within himself as Qiin clutches to his side. He brushes away the feeling swimming deep inside of him and focuses on the road ahead.

Upon arrival at the Lady Fate Casino some minutes later, Xol and Qiin are helped from their vehicle by valet droids. As the Yautja straightens his ruffled cloak, he waves and simultaneously commands the Imperials to return to their original posts. As they pull away, he transmits a mental command that will explain their absence but not have them remember them ever meeting Qiin or himself.

Sending them and the valets on their way, Xol turns and walks up the stairs of the casino to the front entrance with Qiin following close behind, their long black cloaks fluttering behind them as they climb. As they walk into the building, the profane mix of smoke, alcohol, and the secretions of different races flood the Yautja’s sensitive olfactory. Were it not for the air filter in his helmet, the smell might be twice as pungent.

The pair walks onto the casino floor and before they reach the bar Xol sees a familiar face in the back of the room. It is Booma, the Gungan enforcer of Orlo the Hutt and two other armed guards.

“Qiin wait here,” Xol commands. “I know where to find Dex, but I cannot succeed if I constantly have to look out for you my young apprentice. Stay here and alert me on this commlink if you see anyone coming towards that back area.”

Handing the visibly annoyed Nautolan a communication device, Xol readies his lightsabers and makes his way across the gaming area floor.

“Xol I can help,” Qiin says over the comlink. “I’m no good playing lookout. You need me in there with you to sense their thoughts.”

“No, you must stay where you are, and only use this link for emergencies like I instructed you. Is that clear?”

“Yes Xol, I understand,” Qiin responds with a pout before cutting transmission.

As the Yautja nears the sealed door, the sturdy purple Gungan notices Xol and does a double take. Shocked to see him, he nervously fumbles for his blaster holstered on his hip. Noticing their leader’s nervousness, the two guards standing to either side of the Gungan draw their weapons as well. The trio takes quick aim and fire on the approaching Yautja.

As the shots ring out and sail through the air towards him, Xol deploys his lightsabers and deflects the blasts harmlessly away from him and into banks of gambling terminals on his right side. The outbreak of combat sends patrons running for the doors and alerts guards from all over the main gaming floor to Xol’s presence.

“Yousa not being dead Jedis!” Booma shouts at Xol. “Thatsa bein’ perfecto wit’ meesa. Isa wantin’ to be killin’ yousa meeself for longin’ time.”

“So what’s stopping you Booma?” Xol taunts. “Too scared of Orlo I suppose.”

“Meesa not scared, yousa shouldn’ be bein’ scared,” the purple thug replies, trying to hide his fear. “Yousa is surrounded Jedis, no escapin’ the ouch time this time.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Xol growls as he runs headlong at the armed trio, lightsabers blazing.

As he nears the dark purple Gungan at their center, Xol does not stop, instead he chooses to phase through him using his abilities. Like walking through a mist, the Yautja glides passed the Gungan and once on the other side, at his attacker’s backs he slashes with his two blades. Their crimson blades cut down the two other guards with ease leaving the bewildered Gungan standing frozen stiff from fear. With the hum of Xol’s blade just behind his haillu, Booma quivers with terror.

“I will let you live purplish soft meat if you help me get my friend back and kill your boss in the meantime.”

“Meesa can’t be killin’ boss Orlo, Meesa gettin' crunched for that by bounty hunters.”

“I can guarantee that if you don’t help me, you will be how did you put it? Crunched, right here and now.”

“Fine meesa help,” The Gungan complies. “Only if’n yousa can promisin’ meesa that meesa bein’ kept safe from crunchin’ wit’ yousa.”

“I never make a promise I cannot keep, however I can ensure your safety as best I can with all my abilities as long as you do what I say when I say it. Do we have an agreement soft meat?”

“Meesa agree, now what’n yousa wantin’ meesa to do first?”

“Call off the other guards and make something up about what happened here while I hide behind the door.” Xol commands. “And if you try to double-cross me, I will destroy you.”

“No problem, meesa takin’ care of dis. Just yousa better getting’ hidin’!”

Without opening the sealed door behind him, Xol phases through it and takes refuge in the hallway on the other side. He can hear boisterous laughter from down the hall. Anxious to get moving, he listens through the door to the conversation outside.

“What’s going on Booma?” a guard says, his voice partly muffled by the door. “We heard blaster fire and had reports that a lightsaber wielding attacker was going crazy on the floor.”

“No, No, No, thisa bein’ big misunderstanding!” Booma explains. “Darth’n Maul’s losin’ Sabacc game bombad. Heesa gettin’ ooberdrunkin and takin’ himsa’s raging out on meesa and killin’ Lim and Pokk. Meester Sur Tinn came and retrievin’ himsa and gonna pay all the damages to Orlo okeeday?”

“I hate it when Maul gets that way,” the guard replies. “Why do we even let that Zabrak menace into our casino? Where are they now Booma?”

“I takin’ care of it, theysa leavin’ da floor, no causin’ any more trouble today. I sendin’ them back to Boss Orlo’s suite. Theysa should be calmin’ down enough by mornin’ meesa tinks.”

“Alright Booma, nicely handled. We had better get back, we will see you later for some Dejarik and ales though right?”

“Yousa bet, and yousa better bring yoursan credits this time, Lim and Pokk owed meesa big payday and lookin’ what be happenin’ to them.”

“You have one sick sense of humor, you old son of a Mynock!”

The group laughs as they disperse. The guard’s voices become quieter as they move away, hopefully returning to their posts. Curious, Xol uses his comlink to contact Qiin who is still in the casino.

“Qiin, have they returned to their stations?”

“Yes Xol, I left with the other patrons as to not draw too much attention to myself and the guards are just letting us back in now.” She replies.

“Good thinking young one, just keep a watchful eye from the bar. I will be working my way through to Dex shortly and this place is going to erupt with activity so I need your eyes and your foresight.”

“As you wish Xol,” Qiin answers before she shuts off her comm.

Xol closes his channel and opens the access door in front of him. On the other side is Booma, waiting impatiently glancing from side to side. With the door open, the Gungan steps through and walks down the hallway, waving Xol onward as he reaches the end where another sealed door is located. The Yautja stealthily approaches from behind and places his lightsabers onto his belt. Reaching out with the Force he can sense the occupants of the room beyond the door. He feels Dex’s familiar presence, Orlo, two others, and finally with great surprise he senses the dark side presence of Darth Maul.

“So your story is true, Darth Maul is here?” Xol asks.

“Of coursa, Darth’n Maul bein’ here,” Booma responds. “Heesa was some big time hero in Empire because of killin’ yousa. Now heesa enemy of the Emperor but good friends with meesa boss Orlo.”

“I thought I had killed him on Tatooine, but apparently I was wrong just as the Empire has been about my death.”

“Meesa wishin’ I could see the look on himsa’s face when yousa be walkin’ into dat room”

“You just might Gungan soft meat. You just might.” Xol says as he raises his hands palms open to the door. “You seem pretty calm considering I am about to kill your master and rescue my friend.”

“Boss Orlo bein’ a blue pile of Bantha poodoo, heesa just payin’ meesa well for a slave. Besides, yousa sparin’ meesa life, and even though meesa bein’ scoundrel, meesa honor his life debts. Yousa stuck wit’ me Jedis whether yousa wantin’ it or not.”

“Good to know where you stand soft meat, now stand back or you might get hurt.”

Xol focuses strongly on the door in front of him and within a second it collapses in on itself and launches into the room. The metal projectile creates a gaping hole in the rear wall of the gaming room where Orlo and his guests are gathered. The hole itself leads to the exterior of the building, the sounds of street traffic and screaming pedestrians carry through it and into the room.

Without any hesitation, Darth Maul ignites his dual bladed lightsaber and flips across the table landing directly in front of Xol. In reflex the Yautja draws his blades and brings them up to parry the Sith’s first attack. As the pair lock sabers, Orlo chortles at the melee, clapping his slimy hands in delight.

“How can you be alive?” Maul shouts, “I killed you on Tatooine!”

“I can say the same thing to you Sith Lord.” Xol says cheekily

With an angry scream, Darth Maul breaks his grapple with the Yautja and charges with a flurry of saber attacks. Though the Sith’s technique has improved since their last battle, Xol can still counter each assault and when he receives an opening, he stretches outward through the Force and grips his opponents dual bladed saber. With a twist of his hand, the hilt of Darth Maul’s lightsaber crushes inward and rains its contents on the ground. With the shattering of the lens assembly and the exposure of its focusing crystal, the weapons ceases to function and the blade dissipates instantly. Aghast at what has transpired, the Sith stares in shock at the pieces of his prize weapon lying in his hands. While he is distracted and distraught, Xol exerts a push on the defeated warrior that has him fly across the room and impact hard against to the wall, crumpling in a heap on the floor. Orlo’s laughter quickly halts as he sees the infamous Sith is rendered unconscious.

Now, with no distractions, Xol can focus on the others in the room. He can see Dex standing next to a Neimodian whom he can only infer is Mok Sur Tinn in full armor, with his blaster rifle in his hands. Across the table sits a dark skinned human in upper class attire and finally a portly Toydarian with a well manufactured IG model bodyguard standing behind him. Without saying a word, the Toydarian gathers his chips, nods to Xol, and along with his droid exits out the hole in the wall. When Mok Sur Tinn tries to do the same, he can hear the whine of Dex’s blaster warming up as it readies a bolt. The clone has pointed the rifle at the Neimodian and has a blaster in his offhand pointed at Orlo.

“You’re late Xol,” Dex says with joviality in his voice. “Now, I have been waitin’ a long time for this Tinn, pray to your Neimo gods because you’ll be meeting them soon.”

“No Dex, wait!” the Yautja exclaims with his hand stretched out in protest. “We can use him.”

“Are you out of your Jedi mind Xol?” Dex replies angrily. “This bastard has kept me imprisoned for nearly six years and you want to negotiate with him?”

“Not that piece of trash, Dex. We only need Orlo. His Imperial contacts will allow us to get out of this place.”

“What makes you think I would help the likes of you?” The portly Hutt replies through his protocol droid.

“Because Orlo,” Xol continues. “I can make it so Tinn is no longer competition for you on Ord Mantell, and in exchange for that and your own life you will provide us with the means to leave this system safely, my companion Wompit and the Gungan called Booma freed of their enslavement to you, and any supplies we require. It is either that or we kill you both and let the Empire have full reign here. It makes little difference to me.”

“You surprise me Master Jedi,” Orlo laughs. “I expected you to kill me for my treacherous acts against you six years ago but instead you have become a more fearsome breed of scum than you ever were before. Worthy enough I think to be called my friend!”

“Quit wasting my time slug meat, is it a deal or not Orlo?” the Yautja insists. “Because I have other ways of negotiating if you would prefer?”

With a tilt of his head, Xol begins to channel his powers into the Hutt, and as his eyes glare at the corpulent, blue, crime boss, Orlo can feel himself being choked and lifted off of his plush sedan chair.

“I accept…your…deal,” the Hutt chokes. “Now…release…me.”

Xol turns his head away from Orlo and allows his immense sluggish body to flop heavily back into his seat. Once the crime lord has regained his composure he takes a puff from his hookah and says, “You have a harsh way of making a deal but, I like it so I humbly accept your offer.”

“A wise choice Hutt,” Xol replies pleased. “Dex, gather up and restrain Maul and Mok Sur Tinn. We have a lot of work to do.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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

Feeling hopeless and abandoned,

Xol races toward the core system world of Ord Mantell on the suspicious advice of his recently vanquished dark master Blades.

Following the only path he feels will make up for his lengthy absence,

He journeys to free his dear friend, Dex Kamino from the clutches of Orlo the Hutt.

He hopes that Dex will forgive him after all this time and aid him in his quest to once and for all, bring about the demise of the Galactic Empire.

Xol has become a Jedi without an order.

A warrior without a cause,

A Yautja that walks a razor edge,

One misstep will see him falling deep into the abyss,

And this time he may never resurface…

Sensors wail with alarm as Xol exits hyperspace. The warnings come from his proximity to Imperial vessels. Looming over his tiny craft is one of the Empire’s fearsome Super Star Destroyers. He had encountered them before so he did not fear them however, Xol knows he is outclassed and attempts to escape its range. Throttling up, he finds himself immobile. Only a tractor beam could hold him in place so quickly. Furious, he mashes the control panel, angered that he has been captured so soon after freeing himself from the clutches of Dark Lord Blades. As his mind resigns itself to the idea of capture, he cannot help but think, how could they have known to be waiting for him with a tractor beam armed? Was it protocol in the Empire now, to seize any ship coming out of hyperspace he wondered?

As his Starlight class freighter inches its way toward the gaping maw of the Star Destroyer, Xol stares at his custom saber swirling it in his hand.

“I loathe you,” the Yautja says with a growl. “You are all my hatred and anger collected in one place. I have defeated you, and you have returned. You haunt me at every turn and I resist your Dark Side influence. No more can I do this, being so alone in this galaxy. Master Blades was right, I must become more than simply a Jedi and as much as it pains me to say this, I will require your power to do so.”

With a cascade of red energy across the weapon, the shadowy voice from within speaks inside Xol’s mind. “You keep the power inside of you Xol. I am only the key to unlocking it.”

“Like on Tatooine?”

“No, that was a juvenile reflex. If you allow yourself to flow through me, you will be unstoppable. A glimpse of this will come to pass soon.”

“How can you be certain?”

“I exist within the Force itself Xol, you forget that. My vision is not as limited as your own.”

Darkness falls over the pilot canopy as the Imperial ship consumes the freighter. As it is drawn further into a secured hangar, the tractor beam lowers the vessel to the floor and docking clamps fasten hard to it. Xol walking down the freighter's now deployed gangway surrenders himself. Even with the Yautja on his knees, the Stormtroopers sent to detain him are still cautious as they approach him, blasters already drawn and aimed at Xol while they fasten binders to him.

Removing his weapons, the Imperial troops escort their Yautja prisoner through the ship to a chamber near its heart. The circular room is entered through a heavily armoured and guarded door. The two Sith knight guards outside scowl at Xol as he passes them, entering the room. The room is a Sith perversion of the old Jedi council chamber on Coruscant, with plush throne like chairs circling its outer edge leaving an immense space at it’s center. The middle chair is occupied by a youthful, dark skinned human male adorned in elaborate Sith regalia. Dreadlocks hang from his head, each one tipped with an opulent gold decoration. Standing behind his seat is a hooded figure, presumably a consular of some sort as they can be seen whispering into the seated male’s ear before returning to their place behind him.

“I had foreseen your arrival Jedi,” the Sith gloats. “Lord Starkiller will be pleased that I have captured you and it will only be a matter of time until we find your master as well.”

“I have no master fool, I am the master.”

“Is that so?” the Imperial laughs. “Then Master Jedi, by decree of the Emperor I will execute you myself.”

“You would be so cowardly Sith as to kill me while I am bound and helpless?”

“Certainly not,” the officer puffs. “I am a Sith Lord and a bound Jedi is no test of my superior skills. Now rise prisoner, and take up arms for this will be your last moment before you transition from this world to the next.”

With the Force the Sith Lord unhooks the binders holding Xol’s hands. One of his Stormtrooper escorts steps forward to present the Yautja with his lightsabers.

Surprised Xol takes his weapons from the soldier, turns to the lord and asks, “Are you so foolhardy to think you will survive this battle? Do you know who I am soft meat?”

“I am Sith Lord Katarus, special envoy to Lord Starkiller himself, who you are is of no consequence Jedi, but I will indulge you. What is your name traitor?”

“I have been known by many titles Katarus,” Xol begins, as he assumes a defensive stance. “Dark Jedi, Jedi Master, and Dark Lord are just a few, but in the end those that know me and know to fear me call me Xol.”

“By the Emperor!” Katarus gasps. “You are the Jedi they speak of in the holocrons. You slew Vader but it cannot be you. Xol fell on Tatooine six years ago, destroyed in a battle with Darth Maul.”

“Don’t believe everything you view in a holocron feeble Sith. I am very much alive.”

“Not for long. Guards, kill him!” Katarus shouts as he deploys his lightsaber.

Stormtroopers open fire on Xol, sending a volley of blaster fire toward him while the room’s outer door slides open allowing the two Sith knights from outside to enter. With a crimson flash the Yautja summons his lightsabers and deflects some of the red bolts away from him. With an outstretched arm he pushes with the Force sending the troops and the Sith knights out through the open circular portal. With a swift hand gesture, Xol closes the door and locks it. As Katarus bears down on him with his lightsaber from behind the Yautja, Xol sends an arc of lightning into the door fusing it shut. Red hot slag drips from the seams of the door as he turns to face the oncoming Sith. Oddly enough, Xol can see that Katarus’ consular has not moved, chosing to remain still and watch the melee instead.

Katarus is slow, his power is a drop of water in comparison to Xol’s ocean of ability. With each laboured strike, the Imperial becomes more and more frustrated as the much more adept Yautja parries and blocks each attack with ease. In a desperate attempt to vanquish his Jedi opponent, Katarus unleashes a prolonged stream of lightning. As the arcs near Xol, he counters them with his own lightning. The twisted mass of electrical energy in between the two combatants snarls and cracks occasionally striking the ceiling, walls and floors, leaving sooty, charred holes wherever it strikes.

“Help me you fool!” Katarus screams at the still motionless cloaked figure behind his chair. “He will kill you too, we must defeat him together.”

The Imperial’s cries go unanswered from the silent witness as he struggles to fight back his powerful adversary. His best efforts fail him as the crackling tentacles of Xol’s lightning overtake his own energy and rush into his own body. Collapsing to the ground, Katarus succumbs to the power of Xol’s ability and is electrocuted. His body violently shudders and spasms as raw, hateful Force energy courses through it. He screams in pain as he becomes so charged that his skeletal structure can be seen with each pulse of lightning arcing into him.

Xol still bombarding Katarus with lightning turns to the silent consular and asks, “Are you afraid or do you not care for this man? What say you?”

“I care little for him and he has failed me as a master,” a soft feminine voice speaks from beneath her cloak's hood. "He is a disgrace and should not be allowed to live. However, you are Jedi and you are sworn to preserve life.”

“So be it.” Xol says his voice growing dark.

The Yautja can feel the very power the voice had explained earlier. In that moment, he feels overcome with anger and summons forth enough energy to vaporize the prone Imperial officer lying before him. Katarus’ body is reduced to papery black ash, still glowing red with energy. The Sith’s face frozen in a scream before crumbling to powder before his eyes.

Terrified, the consular draws her weapon, its red blade quivering with fear. “You’re a Jedi which means you are not supposed to kill.”

“Sadly, the Jedi Order is dead and I am all that remains.” Xol says as he retracts both his sabers. Now, I do not wish you any harm but if you get in my way I will destroy you as easily as I did your master. You will show me how I can leave this ship.”

“I will help you more than that if you take me with you.”

Confused, Xol turns his head and asks, “You are a Sith are you not? Why would I possibly take the likes of you with me?”

“I am no Sith. I am a seer, I do not even know how to use this weapon,” the female says as she casts her saber aside. “Katarus insisted I learn as I was to become his apprentice, I am just a slave, nothing more.”

“Assuming you are telling the truth slave girl, how do we get off this ship?”

“I know a nearby escape pod we could use but I do not know how far we could get before they notice our departure.”

“It is near Xol,” the shadowy voice of darkness says inside the Yautja’s mind. “Soon the time will come for you to strike fear into the hearts of every denizen of this puny galaxy!”

Shaking his head, Xol returns his focus from his inner consciousness to the woman in front of him and responds, “Take me there and you will go with me to the planet and that’s it!”

“Agreed,” she says, with a small smile.

She lifts the hood obstructing her face, and reveals herself to be a young Nautolan woman with long tresses running along the sides of her face, each tendril adorned in the same fashion as Katarus’ was. Her dark black eyes reflecting Xol in their smooth inky surface as she gazes at him.

“I am called Qiin, Jedi Master Xol.”

Entranced momentarily by the young woman, Xol nods his head in understanding and asks, “Your name is irrelevant, we won’t be together that long, just show me to the escape pods before those Sith knights figure out how to get through those heavy blast doors.”

“Katarus had a back entrance secretly installed in case he was ever mutinied,” Qiin says as she opens a hidden keypad in the rear wall. After pressing a complex sequence of buttons, a hatch hisses and slides open revealing a smaller room with an airlock connected to it.

The young woman leads Xol into the room and points beyond the sealed airlock. A sizable escape pod, plush and decorated in the same style as the previous chamber begins to light up as systems are triggered by the pair’s presence. With an ushering hand wave, Qiin opens the airlock and boards the pod, with Xol behind her. Once aboard, the young Nautolan engages the release and with a rush, the two passengers are thrust headlong toward Ord Mantell below. The Super Star Destroyer seen through the viewport spins overhead. As they gain more distance from the Imperial vessel, streaks of green erupt from the batteries of the capital ships, a few narrowly missing the tiny module as they race by.

“It’s just as I thought,” Qiin nervously cries. “They have detected our unauthorized ejection and are going to destroy us.”

“Silence girl, we are not dead yet!” Xol snaps as he stretches out with the Force.

With slight pushes and pulls he maneuvers the pod out of the way of incoming fire. While his focus and reaction time is impeccable, a few shots glance against the small pod, sending sparks spewing from consoles and causing it to swirl out of control. Xol struggles to regain control of the spinning craft and just as he does, his vision becomes clearer somehow infused with the Force itself. Time is at a near standstill as he can perceive the world around him in ways he normally cannot. In this altered perception he can hear the shadow’s voice again.

“This is it dark one,” it says with delight. “It is the moment of Shatterpoint, seize it and you will ascend to unspeakable heights!”

It is at that very moment through the Force that Xol can see the Super Star Destroyer on its most complex levels, its strengths and weaknesses revealed to him with crystal clear clarity. Acting almost instinctively, he no longer exerts energy on the pod and instead musters all of his focus and concentrates it as the capital ship’s most vulnerable point.
Channeling all of his aggression and hatred into his effort, he can feel a surge run through him like a great dam opening up and unleashing a torrent of power into his abilities. With his mandibles splayed open in a great scream, Xol sees the super structure of the Imperial ship begins to collapse. It’s hulking mass crushing in on itself, setting off a chain reaction of explosions throughout its length. Fiery plasma from the engines engulfs the rear of the vessel tearing it asunder, sending large chunks of debris out into space. Subsequent ruptures along the Star Destroyer’s spine carve it into islands of derelict, lifeless metal.

The pod is rattled by the shockwave of the ship’s explosion colliding with it. Xol and Qiin stare in awe as they continue towards the planet, leaving only a debris field behind where one of the most powerful Imperial ships once was.

“I did not foresee that occurring,” Qiin says, shocked at what she has just witnessed.

“It is a symbol of change young seer,” Xol calmly replies, with determination in his voice. “The Empire will know that I have returned, and they shall pay for what they have done in my absence.”

Fire envelops the outer hull of the pod as it collides with Ord Mantell’s atmosphere, a rain of smaller debris pieces erupting alongside it as it falls toward the planets surface. As the ground grows closer, Xol looks to Qiin’s hopeful gaze and is reminded of the innocence he lost long ago at his father’s side. He will not rest until he can be allowed to feel that way again. Nothing, not even the Empire will prevent him from obtaining that goal.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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

Unbeknownst to the unconscious Xol, those that captured him on Tatooine

have encased him in carbonite under the instruction of an unseen master.

However, the hibernation did not diminish all of his brain functions and for what seems like an eternity he is locked in a never ending nightmare. His mind is bombarded by the dark influences of his sentient lightsaber. Its constant torment drives the Yautja to the edge of his sanity.

He wants to free himself but can’t. His incarceration aboard the Death Star so many years ago pales in comparison to the chaos in his mind.

He longs for a release either through freedom or death.

Neither seems to be in his future.

He desperately calls out through the Force, hoping that his cries for help will be heard by others besides the dark shadow that tortures him relentlessly.

Only time will tell…

“You have resisted me for longer than anyone should Xol,” the shadow says, frustrated. “Give into my power once more, or have you forgotten your battle with the one called Darth Maul already?”

“I should have never given you that chance to manifest in me!” Xol yells. “You are a malignant growth upon my very soul and I want you dead, I never should have obeyed Tyvokka’s command and allowed you to remain intact.”

“Yet you did Dark Jedi, you did. You need me. The feeble teachings of the Jedi will never allow you to defeat those who have been set free. Let go of your misgivings and allow us to work in concert once more!”

“I did not need you to defeat Vader and I don’t need you now!”

“On the contrary, your defeat over the Chosen One was because of me, who do you think allowed his long lost love to transition from the Void into your world?”

“I had already beaten you at that point, the blade itself is connected to the Force without you! You only have power if I grant it to you. Taunt me all you like in this torturous dream but I will never ever allow you leverage over me again.”

“Strong words dark one, we shall see how strong you are in the face of your new master…”

“What new master? Your lies are baited traps and I shall not be lured in with the living Force on my side.”

A hush comes to Xol’s dreamlike state, the first he has had in so long that it scares him. Unsure of what the shadowy voice’s next trick might be, he braces himself for the worst. As he awaits his next sinister challenge, he can feel his body lifting upward towards white light. Once near its source he feels warmth all over his body and the sound of unfamiliar, muffled voices all around him.

With a flash of white transitioning into black, Xol’s eyes adjust to the world around him. He lets out a roar of panic as he awakens from his comatose state. His mind is foggy and sluggish, as his vision returns to him he can see several blurry figures standing around the gurney he is laid on. He tries to stand up but immediately after setting his feet upon the bare metal floor, he is overwhelmed by nausea, buckles over, and vomits.

“Easy there Jedi,” one of the voices says from nearby. “Hibernation sickness aint something you just shake off in a minute.”

After more nauseated vomiting, Xol stands to his feet, his vision much clearer. He comes to realize that he stands among heavily armored strangers in some sort of medical facility. Alone and still somewhat disoriented he draws his lightsabers. “Where am I?” he growls.

“We don’t have time for this,” the lead individual responds. “Come with us Master Xol, our employer does not like to be kept waiting.”

“Not until I get some answers soft meat!” the Yautja snaps, his tusks clicking with irritation.

“Come with us and you’ll get all the answers you want Jedi,” a second soldier says, holding his empty hands out in front of him. “We’re not even armed. Most of us are just engineers assigned to wake you from suspended animation.”

“How long was I asl…?” Xol asks before his words slur and he crumbles forward to the floor.

When Xol regains consciousness, he is seated in a dark room with a viewport adjacent him. He can see space rushing passed, stars turning to lines as the vessel he must be aboard enters hyperspace. Though he is not bound, he can feel an unseen influence strong in the Force holding him in place.

“What is this place?” Xol screams furiously. “Where have you taken me? If this is still a dream, I will not be deceived by your lies!”

“Quiet yourself my apprentice.” A voice from beyond the dark says calmly.

The voice brings a chill to the Yautja as he remains helplessly immobilized. “It cannot be you,” he shouts. “I killed you so very long ago.”

“Did you now?” the voice continues. “It may very well have seemed that way, but only because I had to make you believe it to be true. Had I known you would complete your mission only to become the very thing I loathe most in this universe, I would have completed the task myself.”

The lights of the room flicker on, and with disheartening confirmation, standing before Xol dressed in heavy black armor draped by a red cape is his former master, Dark Lord Blades. Although his face is obstructed by a helm with a skull shaped faceplate, through the Force the Jedi knows this to be his long forgotten teacher.

“I was able to know your exact location at almost every step especially once you installed my carefully configured program into your helmet.”

“Why Blades?” Xol replies, his query fired by anger. “Why would you deceive me?”

“To bring about the Empire’s downfall so that I may rise to power you idiot!” the Dark Lord retorts with condescension. “Wasn’t it obvious? I trained you to be a weapon. One so terrifying, Vader would have had no choice but to take notice, diverting his attention from my efforts to build up my own forces and execute a coup. However what I didn’t count on was the interference of Jedi Master Yoda. I should have guessed he wouldn’t have been slain in the Emperor’s Purge. Not to mention your presence has now brought into play a new Emperor and his cloning project has birthed a new threat I never could have anticipated. It appears you are so dangerous, that the Empire had no choice but to resurrect the dead themselves just to compensate!”

“If this is all true Blades why have you brought me here? I doubt you’d believe I would just betray all that I have come to know and hold true just to help you regain power. If that is what you wish of me, you might as well kill me and get it over with.”

“Well, it’s not completely improbable. You did betray my teachings didn’t you?”

“That wasn’t betrayal that was an exodus from an evil you cursed upon me.”

“Semantics, dark one. You’ll do my bidding, whether you’ll sacrifice your morals to do it or not.”

“Have I not been clear my former master? I will not serve you!”

“Then your friends will die, not by my hand but because of your inaction. Their blood will be on your hands.”

“What are you talking about?”

Lord Blades uses the Force to bring a chair to him. With a flit of his cape he sits down and holds out his gloved right hand. In its open surface, through his own abilities he projects three dimensional images of great space battles and flashes of Dex in great pain.
“You see Xol, in the years since your absence…” The sinister Blades begins before being interrupted.

“Years? What do you mean years! How long have you kept me a prisoner in this place?”

“You were never a prisoner, I sent my acolytes to rescue you from the Empire. They were too late and you had begun to pass from this world to the next. I couldn’t allow you to fall, so over the past six years while your body was preserved in stasis, I used my powers and some other ancient techniques to repair and restore you.”

“You saved my life? To what end?”

“Apprentice, I am Dark Jedi, not a heartless Sith. You are like my son, though you may not always do as I say or pursue the path I feel is best, I will always care for your well being.”

“Yet you used me as a tool to destroy your enemies, and felt it necessary to fake your own death. If I was your son, then you failed as my father.”

“I did what was necessary. You will understand in time. Now, do you want me to tell you of your friends and their Rebellion?”

“I am listening father,” Xol says sarcastically.

“With you presumed dead, the Empire’s alliance of reborn Sith generals has succeeded where Darth Vader had failed. Their actions have been carefully orchestrated by an unseen leader, the current Emperor of the Galactic Empire.”

“Do you know who it is?”

“No Xol,” the dark lord continues. “I have spent a hundred fortunes trying to ascertain that information but he or she is very effective at hiding their identity from everyone close to the throne save one.”

“Who might that be?”

“A Sith warrior known as Lord Starkiller, he served under Vader as his enforcer during his reign. When he died, I was certain his second would seize power but he hasn’t. As for your precious Rebel Alliance, they were shattered at the Battle of Coruscant which I showed you images of through my gifts. What remains of it has fled, or possibly even disbanded.”

“The Alliance cannot be dead. The Jedi Order wouldn’t allow it!”

“Console yourself with whatever falsehoods you wish apprentice, but search your feelings and you will know it to be true. The Jedi have been undone, purged by Starkiller and his death squads. All that remains is you and I. Practitioners of non-Sith doctrines and techniques akin to those of the Jedi Order.”

“You are a Dark Jedi, Blades,” Xol exclaims, his voice sullen. “Once, so was I because of your teachings. I will never become one again. I will take my last breath in battle and I will do so as a Jedi Master. Nothing you can say or do will ever change that.”

“Then as I stated earlier foolish tusk tooth,” Blades says while leaning in. “Your friends will perish. You must grow beyond my lessons and even those of the Jedi. You must become something this galaxy has never seen before.”

“What must I do to save my comrades?”

“Well, as I have explained the Empire used their cloning projects to recreate powerful Sith. Some of these generals have begun defying the Emperor and are forming their own twisted version of the old Sith Empire in some remote planetary system. It’s not surprising when you have so many historically powerful leaders told to obey a ruler they have never even seen. We can manipulate this situation to our advantage and overthrow both groups simultaneously but you will never succeed without aid from me and your former cohorts that still live.”

“Then get to the point my old teacher, and tell me where my friends are!” Xol yells as he fights the restraining force and lunges at the dark Jedi seated near him.

“Orlo the Hutt has your compatriot Dex on Ord Mantell.”

“Jabba said Orlo was imprisoned by the Empire,” the Yautja replies, suspicious of Blades’ every word. “How could he have Dex?”

“My acolytes told me, that the Empire found out about Orlo’s involvement in the death of Count Raxus, so to save his own hide he revealed that he could lead the Empire to you. I am guessing his bounty hunters found you on Tatooine. When you escaped the prison, Orlo I’m guessing, had a contingency plan and made arrangement with the Empire again to lure you to Jabba’s palace. That is when I learned of Darth Maul’s mission and I forsook the luxury of remaining hidden to save you.”

“A fine conspiracy dark lord, but Orlo the Hutt is a two-bit cardsharp, junk dealer and slaver. Why haven’t you already rescued Dex yourselves within these six years?”

“A lot has changed young one. Orlo has surpassed most Hutts in power and influence with his ties to the new Empire. Ord Mantell is now a major shipyard and training ground for some of the Empire’s most elite soldiers. My acolytes are skilled but they don’t stand a chance against soldiers with that level of training and I cannot reveal my existence just yet to this new Emperor. That would have undermined all I had worked towards and would have jeopardized your life for sure.”

“You expect me to be any more successful?” Xol scoffs. “I am only one Jedi Master. It would be foolish to attempt this rescue alone.”

“It’s perfect actually, my former apprentice,” Blades explains. “By all accounts you have been dead for six years and no Imperial will be looking for a ghost. You can sneak into Orlo’s compound and steal Dex right out from under him. My last information on where he is being held states that he is some form of entertainer in that bloated Hutt’s court.”

“I suppose it is as good a plan as any. I will cooperate with you if it will mean Dex is freed.”

“Excellent Xol!” Blades exclaims excitedly. “We shall prepare and leave for Ord Mantell within the hour.”

With a wave of his hands Dark Lord Blades releases Xol from his hold and dismisses the mystical images he was displaying. He leads the sickly Yautja through the halls of his ship to a hangar containing a Starlight class light freighter, and an assortment of various Imperial and Rebel Alliance fighters. From the layout, Xol can ascertain that Blades’ vessel is some sort of Star Destroyer, but much smaller than any he had encountered before. As they walk along the hangar floor the Dark Lord talks.

“Isn’t it marvelous Xol?” he gloats. “A retrofitted Gladiator class Star Destroyer. Not powerful enough to go toe to toe with any large capital ship but effective against the occasional patrol we encounter way out here. We will be taking the freighter while my acolytes follow in fighters. I have some contacts within the Empire I can coerce into giving me some dignitary identification. Diplomats are seldom investigated by security personnel but, you must be absolutely famished after your long sleep. We’ll go to the galley and take in some refreshment before departing.”

“Lead the way, Dark Jedi,” Xol replies, unimpressed by Blades’ display of power.

As the group leave the hangar and travel toward the ship’s dining area they pass an observation deck with a large transparisteel viewport. As Xol passes it, he holds his side in pain, the sight of his former injury from before he was frozen.

“Get up tusk tooth,” Blades commands. “You are fully healed. It is only a phantom injury, a false sense of pain in the location of an old wound brought on by your hibernation sickness.”

“Are you certain master?” Xol says, wincing with pain.

“I am absolutely certain and also, it pleases me so that you call me master once again.”

“Master,” the Yautja says, staring solemnly at the dark lord’s cold mask.

“Yes my apprentice, what is it?”

“I am sorry for my betrayal.”

“Nonsense Xol, that was in the past.”

“No not that master,” the Jedi explains. “That was my escape from you and all other dark forces. This is my betrayal.”

With a surge of Force energy, Xol grasps Dark Lord Blades, crushing him with an unseen fist.

“What…are…you…doing…you fool!” Blades grunts.

Without a reply, the Yautja casts the dark Jedi through the pane of the viewport shattering it into thousands of shards, sucking Blades, and his acolytes out into the vacuum of space. The rushing air pulls at Xol but he repels its force with his abilities. The screams of his victims are heard for less than a second before the cold black overtakes them. The compartment is repressurized after an emergency field erects itself in place of the window.

Xol stares out the viewport unsure of what keeps him looking out at the bodies floating away from the ship. Is it remorse or just morbid curiosity he wonders?

When they are no longer visible, he proceeds back to the hangar bay of the destroyer and boards the freighter. As he engages the engines, he thinks of Dex’s suffering and all the atrocities that have occurred while he was imprisoned in carbonite. With a snap of determination he engages the thrusters, exiting the bay and leaving the starship behind. With a course set for Ord Mantell on the navcomputer. He throttles forward into lightspeed.

“They will all pay 1165. I will make sure of it.” Xol says to himself as he plunges into the white swirling tunnel of hyperspace.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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

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

Jabba the Hutt.

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

Dex and Wompit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


TO BE CONTINUED…