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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Won’t they destroy me?” Xol asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” questions Xol.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TO BE CONTINUED…

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

Escaping from the Ilum system through a random jump into Hyperspace, Xol and Dex leave the shattered remains of three sabotaged Imperial Star Destroyers behind them.

Fearing reprisal, the pair spends many months traversing the backwater spacelanes of the Outer Rim, ducking the Empire at every turn.

In all their time of travelling, Xol managed to discover that within the ornate box they took from the crystal cavern, was three more holocrons, two, once belonging to the Jedi Order and one of Sith origin.

Combined with the prophetic knowledge found on the holocron of Jedi Master Tyvokka, Xol engrosses himself into the in-depth study of each one, desperately seeking any technique that may give him an edge against the emperor.

In need of maintenance, running out of supplies, not to mention hiding places, the duo make their way further into the galaxy, to the Mid-Rim border world of Ord Mantell.
It is there they hope to find some temporary sanctuary and some provisions so that they can continue their quest to bring balance to the Force and bring down Darth Vader’s Empire.

The muffled sounds of a spaceport creep into the Wayfarer transport’s loading dock where Xol is training. He wears no armor, not even his helmet as he moves, repeating techniques over and over again until he is satisfied that he has mimicked perfectly the holocron’s image projecting beside him. His space now seems dedicated to these training tools of the Force, with Tyvokka’s now joined by his three new additions, all of which took a great deal of time just to unlock let alone understand their contents. The first holocron is that of an Iktotchi Jedi ace named Saesee Tiin, it contains mechanical schematics of some sort. The second is a dark pyramid with gold inlays, belonging to some ancient Sith calling himself Kla, that out of the three is the most curious, not only because Xol’s knowledge of the Sith language is very limited and will require further research in his master’s own recordings, but also, because it seems to be paired with an opulent necklace of similar styling. The third a slightly larger piece, is a dodecahedron shaped holocron that seems to be referred to in various recordings stored within as the Great Holocron. From these ancient artifacts, Xol has learned a great deal over the past few months since he retrieved them on Ilum. However, he still has yet to discern the whereabouts of the mysterious Master Kuro, the supposed last Jedi he was told to seek out, by an ancient voice from deep within the Force some time ago.

His focus is broken with the sound of the cargo bay doors opening, their loud warning alarms and flashing lights bringing Xol’s training regimen to a halt. He waves his hand turning off the active holocron and levitates his helmet, armor and lightsaber to him, letting them float in the air in front of him as he puts each piece on.

Once the doors fully open, walking up the gangway with three cargo containers on a repulsorlift loader behind him, Dex emerges. His cloak flapping in the wind, and a worried look on his face, he looks to his Yautja companion and says, “Xol, we are down a black hole without an escape pod, my friend.”

Xol, continues placing his armor on replying only with an inquisitive look, patiently awaiting the explanation that will inevitably follow a statement like the one Dex has just made.

“Well I sold the Imperial weapons we had, but it barely got us enough credits to get refueled and resupply us with a few days worth of ration packs, Dex says with a sigh. “How do we expect to fight the Empire without any money in our pockets?”

“The Force shall show us the way.” Xol says calmly before sliding on his helmet.

An unconvinced look on his face, Dex responds, “That all might be true, but for now, how about you and I let the Force guide us to the nearest cantina, so we can get a drink and figure out our next move, more importantly, just to get off this ship, its starting to smell like a Geonosian spawning chamber in here.”

Xol and Dex both arm themselves before exiting the craft and heading out past the spaceport into the Ord Mantell capital of Worlport. The nighttime streets of the city are teeming with movement, countless different races going about their after hours routines, filing in and out of various cantinas and brothels that line the streets near the spaceport.

As Xol stares around taking in his new surroundings, Dex placing his hand on the tall alien’s shoulder says, “You a gambling man, err, I mean Yautja, Xol?”

“There are some games of chance in my culture, but mostly we gained our entertainment from the hunt itself.” Xol responds, curious as to why Dex would ask such a question.

“Well, then, what say you and me, catch a rickshaw droid over to the Lady Fate Casino,” Dex says pointing across the city towards a brightly lit district off in the distance. “A merchant was telling me about it earlier, given your hunting experience, I think you might enjoy a game of Dejarik, might put a smile on that face of yours, that is, if you’re kind can smile.”

Xol ignores Dex’s remark and instead focuses his attention on the vehicles racing by them, he then steps into the flow of traffic right as a rickshaw is about to pass him. The droid comes to a halt, its glowing, yellow, eyes scanning up the tall figure blocking its path before it utters in a mechanical voice, “Apologies pedestrian but I currently have two occupants and can not accommodate your needs at this time, another like myself should be along shortly.”

Xol’s heat vision reveals to him the outline of two humanoids in the concealed cabin being pulled by the droid. Waving his hand in the direction of the passengers, he says to the driver, “They’ll get out and walk the rest of the way.”

The droid puzzled, looks back to his passengers and sees them get out of the cabin, one of the pair waves at the droid and says, “Its fine, and we’ll walk the rest of the way.”

Xol still waving his hand says, “They thank you for time and will allow us to use the remainder of their already paid service.”

To which the former passenger, still influenced by the Dark Jedi’s mind trick repeats back to the droid, “We thank your for your time and these men can ride out the rest of our prepaid fare.”

The droid bewildered, turns to Xol and says, “It appears that I am able to accept you both now as occupants, please board in the rear cabin and state your destination.”

Dex impressed by this, says to Xol, “Man oh man, you have got to show me how to do that sometime.”

The duo steps inside the cabin of the rickshaw and tell the droid to take them to the Casino. On the way, Dex decides to strike up a conversation. “Xol,” he begins. “I’m curious, how is it that you know so much about Imperial protocol, that performance on the Reclamation was nothing short of brilliant, you had commander Tykon quivering in his shiny, black, boots.

“My former master, Dark Lord Blades trained me in much more than just the Dark side of the Force,” Xol explains. He ensured I knew of the Sith, their counterparts the Jedi, the Empire, and many other things that would, I guess, ultimately aid me in the mission he had planned for me all along.”

Dex, acknowledging his understanding with a nod, asks, “One more thing my Yautja friend, that business on Ilum where you took a skull as some sort of prize, I fail to understand what use the Jedi or for that matter the Sith would have for such a grisly practice.”

Xol, sensing a fear in his companion calmly explains, “DX-1165, it is neither a Jedi or Sith tradition, in my culture, we sometimes hunt the soft meat and to honor our valued prey we take a trophy symbolizing a great achievement or step in our lives. We do not live forever but our trophies make us immortal in the eyes of our clan. If you were my prey Dex, I would do the same for you.”

Mildly unsettled at the idea of losing his head, Dex rubs along his neck and nervously replies, “Thanks, that means a lot to me, I guess.”

Dex’s questions cease and a silence falls over the compartment. Xol looks out the window, taking in the sights of the city whizzing by, while Dex thumbs over some credit chips he pulls from a storage pouch on his belt.

A short time later, the droid rickshaw arrives at the Lady Fate Casino, Dex and Xol step out from the rear compartment allowing the droid to drive off, the building before them is higher class than they expected for Ord Mantell. Its dazzling lights and flashing video ads light up the street as they make their way up to the entrance. Directly out front, they can see, elegant, top end speeders pulling up and being attended to immediately by valet droids as the well dressed drivers make their way up the stairs and into the casino. As the pair climbs the stairs, Dex pulls off his helmet, tucking it under his right arm before reaching the front door. Xol walking in front is halted by the outstretched orange hand of a rather well dressed, corpulent, male Twi’lek.

In broken Basic, the doorman says, “Apologize, Empire no welcome, try Imperial Palace, they like you.”

“Us, Imperials? Are your brain tails tied in a knot? I should just empty a blaster right into your f…” Dex says, before being silenced by Xol’s quickly raised hand.

“What my ex-communicated Republic friend here is trying to say is that in regards to the Empire we both hope it burns to the ground and that small vermin will gnaw on the rotting corpse of the Emperor as it burns.” Xol states, his words clear, and concise. “Does this convey to you our feelings on you calling us Imperials? Now, allow us entry to this establishment so that we may enjoy its many diversions.”

Xol assuming his statement was effective enough begins to walk past the Twi’lek, but as he does, he is stopped again by his hand.

“No entry, Empire. Guards will blast.” The Twi’lek says firmly as two guards emerge from the building, both armed with heavy blasters, one a Gran, and the other a Rodian.

“I fail to see how I can make myself any more clear, my bloated, orange, friend.” Xol says, his patience beginning to wane. “However, if you insist on not letting us in, I understand, and we shall be on our way, that is of course, unless you change your mind.”

As before Xol waves his hand subtly in the air. As he lets it rest at his side, the Twi’lek speaks up, “I change mind.”

“So you will let us in, and as an apology for our inconvenience you’ll give each of us some credits as compensation.” Xol says, waving his hand once more.

“You two in, sorry for trouble, here is one hundred credit worth gambling chip for both you.” The doorman replies as he reaches into his own pocket and pulls out two blue triangles with the number “100” written on them, handing Xol and Dex each one.

“Thank you for your patronage, your guards may return to their posts.” Xol responds.

“Thanks you for coming,” The Twi’lek repeats, “Guard, back in, no more needing you.”

The guards, confused, and annoyed do as they are told and walk back into the casino, Xol and Dex just behind them.

Leaning over to Xol, his hand partially covering his mouth, Dex whispers, “Seriously, you have to show me how to do that.”

The two enter the casino, staring all around they see sprawling game tables of all sorts as well as countless video monitors projecting events from all over the galaxy. In the rear a sizeable bar can be seen manned by several bartenders. A bevy of exotic dancers of multiple different races dance in clear, transparisteel boxes suspended above the gambling tables. Live music plays from a stage set in the middle of the main gaming area. The gambling floor itself is alive with action as various different species play the wide range of games. Near the exits, more heavily armed guards can be seen, with an additional few patrolling the tables. Dex reaches into his pouch, hands Xol a few gold colored credit chips, and says, “Don’t go spending all you credits on a pretty face, try and gamble a little, my game’s Sabacc, those are the tables on the far end, your welcome to join me, but if you are still interested in Dejarik, it looks like they have it set up on the other side next to the bar.”

“Appreciated DX, but I believe I will try this so called hunters game you recommended for me.” Xol replies, as he walks in the direction of the Dejarik tables.

Moving onto the floor himself heading in the other direction Dex shouts back, “Suit yourself big guy, just yell if you get into trouble.”

The pair goes their separate ways and seats themselves at tables that are available. Xol manages to find an unattended hologame and begins to play against the computer player built in, attempting to acclimate to the games unique style of play, one part chess to one part gladiatorial arena. At first, his skill level is promising, the Force allowing him to foresee his opponent’s next move, but his ultimate lack of knowledge in the individual holomonster game pieces leads to frustration and eventually after three or four rounds, Xol quits, retiring to the comfort of a bar stool and a harsh alcoholic beverage the bartender calls “A Reactor Core.”

A few hours later, his helmet sat on the stool next to him, Xol is still drinking, finding that his Yautja physiology does not seem to react to intoxicants in a debilitating way as it does with other species. Bored, he spins his half full glass in place, watching as the liquid swirls around and around drawing his thoughts further and further into the whirlpool. His concentration is interrupted when a cast shadow from behind him blocks any light entering into the glass.

“Yousan being the bombad Sit’ Lord weesan be hearin’ about?” a strange voice says from behind Xol.

“I am not Sith,” Xol replies, annoyed. “And, you are blocking my light.”

“Sit’, Jedis, or whatever you is, it all being the same to us,” the voice answers gruffly. “Meesan Boss wanting to be seeings you, yousa come with meesa before yousa gettin crunched right here.”

His patience worn out, Xol turns around in his stool and stands up. The five and a half foot tall Gungan standing before him is an unfamiliar species, with a duck’s bill, large, leathery, floppy ears, dark purple tinted skin and two yellow eyes set atop tiny stalks. ‘It’ already has a blaster drawn, and with the difference in height between the Yautja and this creature, it is aimed almost exactly at Xol’s groin.

With a half smile on its face, the purple Gungan says, “Steady now or meesa be blowin’ a hole right through yoursan matin’ organ. Yoursan friend, Dex be sayin’ you can be trusted, that yousa not like Empire poodoo, that yousa different. Meesa tink dat yousa all being da same, but Boss sayin he want to meet yousa so yousa comin’ wit’ me, no problems, and no ouch time, okie day?”

“You and your master can do yourselves a favor and release Dex or I will have both your heads on my trophy wall before this day has ended, do I make myself clear.” Xol responds angrily, his four tusks fully extended.

“Release?” the alien messenger replies with a laugh, “Heesa not taken hostage, heesan win big at Sabacc, makin friends with da Boss, and da Boss says that heesa havin’ job for yousa and him.”

“Just take me to Dex and we shall see about this job,” Xol says as he levitates his helmet towards his outstretched hand.

“I got big boomin’ bongo speeder out da front for us, no smartness keepin’ the Boss waiting, now is dere?” the Gungan replies, as he makes side-to-side motions with his blaster for the Yautja to follow him to the main entrance.

After leaving a credit chip on the bar next to his still half full glass, Xol walks in front of the Gungan toward the front of the casino. As the pair exits the building, a valet droid brings up a luxurious speeder, far larger and more opulent than anything Xol has ever seen in his life especially on Ord Mantell. The Gungan still having his blaster drawn ushers Xol into the back seat of the vehicle before climbing in himself, after relaying a destination to an unseen driver in the front part of the vehicle via an internal communication system, the speeder begins to move.

As the world outside flies by at breakneck speed, Xol turns to the Gungan and asks, “What do they call you, I tire of you knowing all about me when I know nothing of you or your master.”

“Booma, after the weapon,” the purple alien replies. “Meesa being one of da bestest men workin’ for Orlo.”

“What’s an Orlo?” Xol asks sincerely.

“Yousa been livin’ under a rock somewhere?” Booma replies, a look of surprise on his face. “Orlo is da bombaddest Hutt this side of space, biggest goobafish in the sea heesa is.”

“We shall see purple soft meat. We shall see.” Xol replies, his head turning back to the window of the vehicle.

Almost an hour passes before the vehicle stops fully at a well guarded gate leading into a complex of some kind. The speeder is waved through by the guard on duty and it starts to creep up a long driveway, a road lined with high fences and guard towers every twenty feet. Xol expected there to be a military fortress at the end of this path to destruction instead his eyes are greeted by a sprawling estate, with a jewel of a mansion as its focal point. Lush grasses and titanic trees make way to an artificial lake with a huge repulsorlift yacht hovering above it. Guards can be seen everywhere on the grounds, patrolling in pairs with several palm sized spherical droids floating above each pair.

Across the green plain of the lawn, a large assembly can be seen, partaking in some sort of musical performance. A gigantic throne sits in the middle of the gathering, a triumphant booming laugh emanating from its occupant, which in turn inspires the whole crowd to laugh.

“Dis where weesa be gettin’ out, big Boss Orlo over dat way wit’ his people.” Booma says, opening his door to exit the speeder.

Upon exiting the speeder himself, Xol is met by several heavily armed guards, mostly Nikto, their blasters trained on the Yautja at all times. Booma motions for Xol to follow him and the group lead by the Yautja and the Gungan cross the garden of the palatial Hutt estate to the large group sitting outside.
The crowd parts as Booma and the towering Yautja get close, allowing them to walk directly into the center which is clear save a small band playing off to the side, a Toydarian juggler and a couple scantily clad dancing girls who quickly move to Orlo’s side once Xol stands before him. Orlo’s throne is a testament to decadence with gold inlays set in some form of red marble, its top has a red veiled canopy that fans out of it and drapes to cover the front.

Booma walks to the side of the regal chair and presses a sequence of buttons retracting the obstructing veil to the sides like a curtain on a great stage. Once the curtain is fully retracted, Xol can see that not only was Orlo behind it but several more attractive girls who lay across him, a protocol droid and Dex in his full armor standing beside him.

Orlo himself is a rather large Hutt stretching longer than Xol’s fighter and much taller than the Yautja. He is dark blue in color with a black band, possibly a tattoo, running across his face at the eye level. In one hand he holds a control pad of some sort, and in the other he has a long forked pipe with tubules that hook up to a giant hookah like device behind him.

The great blue behemoth waits for the crowd to become quiet before speaking, his booming voice making all those in his entourage take notice. As he speaks his red colored 3PO droid begins to translate, its voice clearly reprogrammed to sound more sinister than a base model.

“Welcome Dark Jedi, I have heard tell of your kind from the old days, before the time of Vader,” the droid explains. “Your comrade Dex has informed me that you are on a mission to stop the Empire, but require some basic needs and he claims that you successfully eliminated three Star Destroyers without leaving a single survivor.”

Shocked that Dex would tell of that event to a stranger, Xol replies, “Yes Orlo, it is the truth, we have struck out against the Empire and are in great need of provisions that will accommodate us for longer than a few days journey. Now, it is my understanding that my cohort bested you in a game of chance and this leads you somehow to offering us employment, is that correct?”

With a huff of his pipe before speaking, Orlo replies, “Your friend, this clone is one hell of a Sabacc player, so he knows how to bluff well, so when he told me of your exploits, I was skeptical. However, his breed is made from Mandalorian stock, brutal and fierce, straight to the throat killers, so I believe you enough to offer you the following arrangement.”

Orlo commands that a table be brought forth, and without delay three Nikto setup a table and a holographic projector atop it, before bowing in subservience and leaving his presence. With a push of a button on the Hutt’s control pad, the projector turns on and displays a three dimensional hologram of an Imperial officer. He seems middle aged, has a dark skin tone and one eye that has clearly been cybernetically altered. “This is Count Raxus, an Imperial Moff that has become a considerable thorn in my side,” Orlo relays, angrily. “Before all I had to do is pay him off, and the Empire looked the other way when I conducted activitiy in this sector. However, as of late he has become greedy and demands more and more of me, this can no longer go on. I am a Hutt; our people do not negotiate with inferior creatures like Raxus. No bounty hunter or mercenary at my disposal will go near him because he is guarded by a well skilled Imperial Sith Lord; however that shouldn’t be a problem for someone as resourceful as you.”

With another push of a button, Orlo turns off the image. He demands the table removed and as quickly as it was assembled it is disassembled and taken from sight.

“What, may I ask is our reward, Orlo of the Hutts?” Xol inquires.

“One and a half million credits, two if you bring me Raxus alive,” The Hutt responds. “As well as several of my finest slaves, for you to use as you wish, do we have a deal dark one?”

“Mighty Orlo, I will rip out this Sith Lord’s skull and place it upon my mantle, this man he protects, Count Raxus is hunted and he will be your trophy, I promise you this!” Xol says with froth.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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

Shortly after opening the holocron of the legendary, Tyvokka, Xol departs Rakata Prime aboard his new found Wayfarer transport.
 

Accompanied by his new ally, a long lost commando of the Old Republic, he sets out deeper into the Outer Rim Territories, guided by the prophetic, holographic, recordings of a long dead Wookie Jedi.

Apart from the prophecies, Tyvokka's holocron teaches young Xol much of the Force itself, new techniques that he may be able to utilize in the near future.

That future for him is fraught with peril, and uncertainty…

High into orbit above Rakata Prime, the transports hulking frame begins to creak and groan, its lack of use for several years beginning to show. Xol, now fully recovered from his trial on the planet, sits in a meditative pose on the floor of the cargo bay, Tyvokka's holocron activated in front of him, the holographic Jedi's image sitting in an identical pose.

"Concentrate pupil," the Jedi's visage says in a soothing, patient voice. "The Force allows us to see into the future only at its allowance, quiet your mind and it will grant you an easier journey."

Xol's eyes clench tighter with intense focus, boxes of cargo and other loose debris, begin to levitate from the floor. The objects swirl around him, like planets orbiting around a star. Their rotation remains constant for a matter of minutes, before increasing in speed. Their speed grows more and more rapid until they are nothing but a blur surrounding Xol. The Yautja begins to rise up in the air, maintaining his sitting position, into the center of his Force-driven tempest. A few meters off the ground, Xol's eyes snap open, their red intensity now replaced with brilliant blue light. His mouth begins to slowly open, and a voice not his own, echoing through him, rises up, and begins to speak.

"Dark, the Force must be now; if you are the only one the Force can choose to connect me with in my time of great need." The mysterious old voice says before continuing. "Dark one, help us you can, none can stand against Vader, not many Jedi left, there are. Seek Master Kuro you must, last of us, she is. Well hidden, she must be, in order to avoid the Empire. Great knowledge, she has, in unorthodox ways of the Force, and teach you, she will. Aboard the Star Destroyer the path to her is..."

The voice's speech is disrupted, as Xol is snapped to consciousness by the sound of blaster fire from behind him. He and the objects that surrounded him in his meditative state slam to the floor, sending debris every which way as boxes break from the fall. As soon as he touches ground, Xol whips around towards the source of the weapons fire, his lightsaber gauntlet ignited with a crack as he assumes a defensive posture. His tense posture soon gives way to a more relaxed one as Xol realizes that the shot fired came from Dex, who is facing away from the Yautja, standing atop Xol's fighter, his sidearm still drawn.

"Dex," Xol yells down the cargo bay, "What are you shooting at?"

"Rats, sir." Dex says, as he turns toward Xol and jumps down from the nose of the fighter. "Bloody big Rakatan rats the size of your head, not bad eatin' mind you but absolutely vicious to anything wired. Whole ship's swarming with em, I blast every one I come across, but we could really use some Mouse droids to come through and wipe them all out, sir."

“Well in the future Dex,” Xol explains, his voice reverberating across the near empty cargo bay. “Kill them with a blade when I am meditating nearby.”

Xol quickly turns away from Dex’s direction and walks back towards the holocron, the claws on his toes clicking and clanking against the floor with every step. Having worn only his loincloth during meditation, Xol begins to collect his garments and armor that he had set out neatly next to Tyvokka’s projection spot. As Xol begins to don his armor, he asks the holocron flickering before him, “Master Tyvokka, what was the first premonition you recited to me again?”

Upon Xol’s prompting, Tyvokka begins to speak, “Where the shadow splits into multiple parts, high above the secret crystals, a new darkness will come, and find knowledge of all things in the blood of his enemies.” Upon the completion of the message, the holocron immediately powers off, Tyvokka’s image dissipating into golden, flickering particles that scatter outward in all directions.

Dismayed, Xol runs to the holocron. Picking it up in his hand, he shakes it madly, desperately trying to reactivate it to no avail. Frustrated, he throws it into the open white box it had originally emerged from. Still aggravated, Xol resumes placing on his final pieces of armor, including his helmet and cloak before asking aloud, “Master, did you hear Tyvokka’s prophecy, does your program have any idea what it means?”

“Not entirely, it was atypically cryptic for Master Tyvokka, probably some Jedi precaution should the information be viewed by people such as us.” Master Blades voice replies, from the lightsaber on Xol’s belt. “Although, he did mention secret crystals, there are caves on Ilum filled with crystals, akin to ours, that the Jedi used to use in the construction of their lightsabers, it was not a well known system, and it is close to our present location, perhaps it is a good place to start. Besides, if you are supposed to equip the Jedi with what they need to start their order again, you will need several of those crystals.”

“Hey Dex,” Xol shouts down the cargo bay. “Can you get this ship to a system called Ilum?”

“She’s a good ship sir,” Dex hollers back from the cockpit of the patrol fighter where he has been working. “I’ll take the helm, and have us there in no time at all, sir.”

Dex hops from the fighter and hastily runs to an adjacent hatch, Xol using the Force to increase his speed, makes up the distance and follows on his heels. The halls and doorways still smell somewhat of the Rakatan swamp, but save the odd exposed wire dangling from the ceiling, it has remained in immaculate shape. Xol bends slightly to move through the human-sized doorway into the pilot’s compartment where he can see Dex seated in the forward pilot station, flicking a series of switches. The Yautja sits down at the slightly raised command station behind the pilot position, and begins strapping himself into the chair.

Swiveling the pilots chair around, Dex turns and looks up to Xol before asking, “Sir, the navigational information inside the databanks seems to be out of date and is unable to find the planet Ilum. What are your orders?”

“Input my program into the main computer, just like on Rakata.” Master Blades’ voice insists, from underneath Xol’s cloak.

“Very well, my master, I shall do as asked.” Xol replies, reaching for the lightsaber from his belt. “Dex, I am inputting new star chart information, try to locate Ilum again.”

Xol, places his master’s lightsaber on top of the command console, triggering the holographic emitter to open and activate but instead of displaying an image, the command console begins to display a message reading, “Transfer in progress.”

A few moments later, the emitter closes then, just as quickly, re-opens this time, displaying just a facial image of Master Blades which begins to talk, “Lord Xol, as before with your fighter, my holocron’s information has been uploaded into these databanks, if you require any additional information, simply enable the saber’s emitter, and say my name, the rest you already know.”

“Navigation has acquired hyperspace coordinates for Ilum sir,” Dex says from the forward console. “Shall I make the jump to lightspeed?”

“Yes Dex, engage the hyperdrive, continue with the hunt.” Xol responds with a hidden smile.

With an abrupt shunt, the Wayfarer transport maneuvers into position, and with a streak, plunges forward into hyperspace. The whirlpool of blue and white, just beyond the transparisteel of the cockpit shines through, seeming to dance across the dimly lit interior.

After a few minutes, Dex again revolves around to face Xol in his chair, when he comes to rest he says, “Lord Xol, sir. We won’t arrive for several hours, only one of us has to remain on the command while in hyperspace.”

“Very well commando,” Xol replies in agreement. “I will retire to my quarters, should there be any problems, use internal communications to contact me.”

“Will do sir,” Dex says affirmatively, as he revolves back around in his chair to face the forward pilot’s console.

Xol upon leaving the command, proceeds down the hall and enters his room. After setting his, armor, weapons, and helmet down on a small table that sits in the room next to his bunk, he sits in the center of the open floor and begins to meditate.

Hours pass, and with a shudder, the Wayfarer exits hyperspace. Almost immediately afterwards, a crackle comes over the intercom in Xol’s room before Dex’s voice starts to exclaim from it, “Lord Xol, sir. You are needed in the command immediately.”

Xol rises to his feet, grabbing his helmet and arm gauntlets on the way out of his room. Walking into command, he is met by an unusual sight, three ships around the orbit of Ilum, the lead ship, a large grey hulk, triangular in shape, twenty times larger than his. Its hull is lined with armament so formidable it could only be a warship. The two lesser ships are similar in configuration but are covered in several dome-shaped constructs and are still better equipped than the Wayfarer.

“Who are they Dex?” Xol questions, his eyes scanning back, and forth, at the horizon beyond the cockpit.

Before Dex can answer, the voice of Xol’s former master sounds from the console’s speaker, “Those are Imperial Star Destroyers, and they’ll blow you into tiny little pieces if you show any aggressive posturing whatsoever.”

“Well then, I suggest Lord Xol sir, that we make the jump back into hyperspace and escape.” Dex says, confidently.

Before Xol can respond, the conversation is again interrupted by Master Blades’ voice. “It’s no good trooper, those smaller ones are Interdictor cruisers, they are fitted with gravity well projectors, and they can disable anyone’s ability to jump to hyperspace without their permission. It appears my former apprentice, that they have blockaded Ilum for some reason.”

A blinking light begins to flash on the right console next to Xol and Dex. Dex looking uncertain turns to Xol and says, “Sir, it appears they are attempting to hail us. Should we answer them sir?”

Xol does not respond for several seconds, and then just as Dex is about to ask his question again, Xol replies, “I will answer them; my master has taught me that these great constructions of Vader’s empire are nothing but mere playthings next to the all powerful Force. We shall see what they want.”

Xol reaches across Dex and presses the still flashing button, an official sounding voice, in mid sentence begins speaking, “…I repeat, unidentified vessel, this is Captain Salus, of the Imperial Star Destroyer, Reclamation, identify yourself or be fired upon. The Ilum system is under blockade by order of Emperor Vader, any attempt to leave the system will result in detainment and the confiscation of your craft.”

“Pardon the interjection, Captain.” Xol interrupts. “I am Lord Xol, and if I were you, I would think twice about even so much as charging your weapons, let alone firing them.”

“My sincerest apologies, Lord Xol,” Captain Salus says with an air of condescension. “What, are you the lord of exactly, besides perhaps that dilapidated ship of yours?”

“The Dark Side of the Force, captain.” Xol says, anger, boiling up in his throat. “Allow me passage or I will destroy you!”

“I am sorry, but lord or not, I am afraid without proper identification; I have no choice, but to carry out my orders.” Salus replies before terminating the communication signal.

“They are charging weapons, and gravity projectors on the other two destroyers are active.” Dex says, his eyes darting between the flashing displays on his console.

“Take no violent action Dex, I will deal with this imbecile that impedes our mission,” Xol says as he turns for the exit of the cockpit. “I am taking the fighter, once I am clear, take as much evasive action as necessary, but I doubt they’ll land a shot.”

“You’re as mad as a rabid Gundark sir, if you think that you stand a chance in that fighter.” Dex exclaims, while hitting a series of controls and piloting throttles.

Xol exits the cockpit and using the Force to open all the hatches in front of him, he quickly makes his way to his fighter.

Warning lights flash, as the cargo bay opens like the gaping maw of some great beast. Xol’s fighter rushes out from behind the protective airlock shield, plunging headlong, into the vastness of space.

“They are firing ion cannons directly at you sir,” Dex says, his voice blaring over the fighter’s communication system. “Your shields won’t withstand that level of firepower; those blasts will drain all your onboard power and leave you adrift.”

“Don’t worry about me soldier,” Xol says, his voice crackling back over the line. “Just keep on my tail and trust in the Force.”

The fearless Dark Jedi flies his fighter at full speed towards the blasts, the Wayfarer transport following behind in close pursuit. The green bolts of ion cannon fire, streak across the black of space coming ever closer to the two craft.

Anger begins to course through Xol’s veins; he is angry, angry that this impudent little piece of soft meat would dare challenge him, he is Gr'rit'Xol, last of his clan and Dark Jedi Knight, he will not be defeated so easily. His rage flows through him stopping at the palm of his now, outstretched hand. Channeling the Dark Side, Xol diverts the ion blasts outward, making them careen right into the two Interdictor Star Destroyers that are on either side of the Reclamation. The vessels crackle with the energy of the blasts, their power disabled

“Lord Xol, that’s it, you’ve done it,” Dex yells happily over the speaker. “Those gravity wells are down, we can jump to hyperspace!”

“Hold your position Dex, this hunt is not over, this soft meat Salus has underestimated his prey and has been stung badly.” Xol responds, the anger still swimming in his voice. “We still require what is on Ilum, this Captain will either know now, that I am telling the truth, or he will die for his ignorance.”

The heads up display screen in Xol’s fighter begins flashing with a graphic indicating an incoming communiqué from the Reclamation. With the flick of a toggle adjacent to the screen, the communication line is opened and a video image of a tense Imperial officer appears, in the background, another officer dressed in grey can be seen being dragged away by two soldiers in white armor similar to Dex’s. Once the individual being dragged away is clear of the line of sight for the video feed, the young officer begins to speak, “Lord Xol I presume?”

“You presume correctly Captain…” Xol pauses awaiting the officer’s reply.

“Commander Tykon. I am acting captain of the Imperial Star Destroyer Reclamation,” Tykon says, with intensity and pride.

“Where is Captain Salus?” Xol inquires.

“Captain Salus has been removed from command in lieu of recent events, I will liaise with you from now on,” the nervous commander replies. “We were unaware of any Imperial operatives working in the Outer Rim.”

“An honest mistake commander, which is why I have made my actions purely defensive,” Xol says gruffly, knowing the tone will keep the young officer off-balance. “Despite a couple of temporarily disabled ships, you remain for the most part, quite strong, able to repel just about any attacker in this region.”

“Yes, that much is true, and I must apologize for Captain Salus firing upon you sir,” Tykon replies, his voice shaky. “Our Interdictors will return to normal functionality within a matter of days, in the meantime please accept our hospitality, and dock with us. I trust that word of this incident will not find its way back to the Emperor.”

“I do not know what incident you speak of, commander.” Xol says sarcastically. “My pilot and I will come aboard and acquire some provisions for our mission.”

“Excellent sir,” Tykon replies, his eyes beaming with excitement. “We anxiously await your arrival; docking procedures will be uploaded to you and your pilot in the Wayfarer transport.”

The commander’s image disappears as communication ends, the display reverting to its standard configuration of black with blue lettering. The tugging force of a tractor beam, grabs hold of the diminutive patrol fighter, slowly it moves down the hull of the Reclamation until it is engulfed in the massive shadow of the underside. The docking bay opens, its outer airlock doors slowly parting to the sides allowing the two vessels pass in between them. Once inside the humongous hangar, the vessels are lowered into place and secured on landing pads beside several other ships and fighters. Warning sirens still sound, as the docking bays doors reseal beyond the semi-transparent safety shields.

The alarms cease, as a still quiet falls over the hangar, before the plodding of heavy footsteps in unison can be heard echoing throughout the chamber. A platoon of soldiers in white armor march in formation across the cold steel, splitting into two halves, with a path down the middle, as they come within feet of the Wayfarer transport, quickly following walking in the newly made pathway is a young man in a black dress uniform and four individuals wearing identical black robes. Xol opens the hatch to his fighter upon unhooking his pilot’s harness, collecting his equipment before hopping down from the cockpit, despite the fact that a descent ladder was attached to his craft upon docking. He senses the presence of the Dark Side as he walks towards the darkly-clad figures.

The man in uniform looking up at the towering Yautja says, “Lord Xol, I am Commander Tykon, we spoke earlier as you recall, and these four gentlemen are Sith knights Vosh, Gann, Chorbek, and Ulatt. I formally welcome you aboard you aboard the Reclamation, I and my men are at your disposal.”

“Thank you for the warm welcome commander,” Xol says with confidence, all the while feeling unease around these four Tykon calls Sith knights. “My pilot and I won’t be requiring anything more than provisions and some rest, as well as any information you have on this planet beneath us, Ilum.”

“As I said, we are at your disposal my lord, we shall do our best.” Tykon says with a smirk of pride on his face. “Now, Lord Xol, you had spoken of a pilot accompanying you, yet I see no one.”

“He is securing our ship, commander.” Xol snaps back firmly, ensuring that the young officer’s snide remark does not go unchallenged. “I am carrying very valuable equipment aboard that innocuous looking vessel and none of it can be left unsecured without total lockdown, your security is superior, I am sure, but, the Emperor will not accept failure.”

“I understand entirely my lord, I had seen him strangle a man from light years away with his Sith powers for failing to complete a routine scouting mission.” Tykon replies in agreement, his voice now more subdued. “I was just a junior cadet at the time.”

Pressing the side his helmet to enable its internal communicator, Xol summons Dex, choosing to refer to him by his serial number Dx-1165, keeping up the ruse of a command structure in front of the Imperial officer and his entourage. A few moments later, helmet on, with his weapons holstered, and wearing a dress cape over his armor, accompanied by red kamas and a matching rank pauldron on his left shoulder, he walks down the transport's exit ramp and walks beside his much taller Dark Jedi compatriot.

“DX-1165 reporting for duty as you requested, Lord Xol, sir!” Dex says with his hand raised in salute.

“Very good 1165,” Xol says assertively, making sure not to turn towards the soldier as he speaks, maintaining his illusion of superior rank. “You will accompany me and Commander Tykon until such time it is that you are dismissed, is that understood commando?”

“Perfectly sir, I am at your command.” Dex states, his head lowered slightly in submission.

Tykon, Xol, Dex and the four Sith knights proceed to the hangars exit making their way inside the first hallway of the ship. Upon their exit, the trooper formation reassembles and marches through the same exit, their footsteps in perfect synchronization as they go.

Tykon and Xol walking in front, begins to talk as they snake their way through the halls of the star destroyer.

“Is that a real Clone Commando Lord Xol?” the young officer’s voice peaked with intrigue. “I have only read about them in textbooks on the Old Republic at the academy.”

“Yes, commander, he has been a loyal companion and an even more loyal soldier to me for many, many years.” Xol replies, his voice still carrying a dominant tone. “He will respond only to commands I give him, but I assure you commander, he will not cause a disturbance aboard your ship.”

“A great reassurance, thank you my lord.” Tykon answers, the anxiety in his voice seeming to rise before he continues to speak. “Forgive my incessant questions my lord, but I have never met a Sith knight of your race, you are quite formidable, larger even, than most Wookiees, what do your people call themselves?”

“I come from a race of hunters, known as the Yautja, I killed many creatures before I even spoke my first words, and have slaughtered countless since in the service of the Emperor.” Xol gloats, his bravado successfully intimidating his meek host with his half-truth.

“I see,” Tykon stammers, “You are truly an asset to us, Lord Xol, I am honored to have you aboard.”

The procession continues through several more halls and up a special service lift until finally coming to a stop at the command bridge. The bridge itself is a bustling environment with command staff manning displays in a lower area while a causeway crosses above them where senior officers can go to an observation station just in front of large transparisteel windows, Ilum, with its snowy surface, gleams like a pearl in the distance just beyond them.

Waving off his honour guard, Tykon leads Xol, Dex, and the four knights, across the causeway towards the captain’s station, junior officers, staring up at the formidable Yautja as he walks above them. His hands folded behind his back Tykon stares out towards the planet and asks, “Lord Xol, what exactly is your mission in this sector?”

“Do not forget your place Commander Tykon, my mission is of the utmost importance to the Emperor and must be kept secret.” Xol replies, tersely. “What I can tell you is that I must find a cave on Ilum’s surface that holds crystalline deposits, rare ones that greatly interest the Emperor. Do you know of such a cave Tykon?”

“Yes in fact, I do, my lord.” The young commander responds with a smile. “I was just about to send a squad of snowtroopers down with the knights on a mission they must accomplish in the same area.”

“How fortunate for me,” Xol says, amused. “If they were not scheduled to depart immediately, I would like to offer the use of my transport for the mission, after my pilot and I resupply and rest for a time.”

“Such devotion you have, Lord Xol. You would offer up your own ship in service of the Empire? I shall of course allow you the necessary time to rest and recuperate before departure on this mission,” Tykon replies, seemingly impressed by the gesture. “I will have one of my security liaisons show you to temporary quarters and have a droid bring you refreshment within a half of an hour, if anything is not to your liking, let me know, I shall have it dealt with personally.

“Many thanks commander,” Xol says with his head lowered in obligatory respect. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we shall accept your gracious hospitality and retire for a time.”

Escorted by two security officers, Xol and Dex are led through a labyrinth of hallways and secured, locked doors until they finally arrive at their rooms, which conveniently are placed side by side with one another. With a salute, the security escorts dismiss themselves, leaving the Dark Jedi and his Clone Commando counterpart to settle into their rooms. Moments later, a glossy, black RA-7 protocol droid enters the room carrying a tray of assorted food rations and containers of water. The droid sets the tray down, and exits the room after a pat of gratitude on the shoulder from Dex. After its departure, Xol waves his hand towards the open portal, closing and locking the mechanical door instantly.

“DX-1165, I need you to listen very carefully,” Xol transmits telepathically. “They may be monitoring this room electronically, so I will speak to you through your mind, do not be alarmed. In order to ensure our escape after our mission is complete, you must find a way to sabotage this vessel. With the support ships still recovering from my attack, the Reclamation is our only obstacle in leaving this system without being pursued. Answer me by removing your helmet for yes, and adjusting it slightly for no.”

Dex then removes his helmet, a half smile on his face, a newly ignited determination in his eyes. “Sir,” he inquires, “it has been some time since I was aboard a capital ship and I am not very tired, do I have permission to explore? Stretch my legs out a bit?”

“Of course DX-1165, you are dismissed, I must rest now,” Xol explains whilst removing his armor and cloak, without removing his helmet, gauntlets, and lightsaber. “Wake me in four hours trooper, Commander Tykon is patient, but I do not want to test his patience.”

“As you wish, my lord.” Dex says before exiting the room.

Four hours pass and Xol is awakened by a chime coming from his room door. “Enter!” he says, still groggy from sleep. “The lock is not engaged.”

With a hiss of pressure, the door opens, sliding into the wall. Dex steps through the doorway and comes to attention before speaking, “DX-1165 reporting as ordered sir, shall I inform Commander Tykon that we wish to depart?”

“Yes, do inform the commander, trooper,” Xol replies back firmly, “unless of course, you have more exploring to do?”

Understanding his master’s innuendo, Dex replies, “Yes sir, I have completed my exploration of this wondrous ship.”

“Very good DX,” Xol responds with a nod, “tell Commander Tykon that we shall rendezvous with him in the hangar, there we will load up his troops and you can start your pre-flight, is that understood?”

“Sir, understood, sir!” Dex responds, a salute snapping to the side of his head.

After relaying the message and allowing Xol to re-don his armor, the pair makes their way to the hangar, where they are met by Tykon, his four Sith knights, and a squad of a dozen heavily armed snowtroopers. Once Dex allows them access to the loading ramp, they begin moving their equipment onto the Wayfarer transport.

Overseeing the loading of the craft, Tykon turns to Xol and says, “My lord, these men, will assist you in your mission whatever way they can.”

Sensing fear in the commander, Xol inquires, “Commander Tykon, why are the men so heavily armed? Are you expecting trouble down there?”

“Not at all my lord,” Tykon quickly replies, “I just felt that the success of this mission is paramount, not to mention the indigenous Gorgodon can be quite the messy business without heavy firepower.”

“I understand completely commander,” Xol says feigning reassurance, still sensing great fear in Tykon, “I shall do what I can to minimize the loss of any of your men while they are under my command.”

“Of course you will my lord, the men feel quite privileged to be under your leadership.” The young officer responds, his voice slightly wavering.

Once all of the troop’s equipment is loaded and secured, Tykon privately speaks with the four cloaked Sith before allowing them to board the ship. With a nod of appreciation towards the commander, Xol turns and boards his Wayfarer, the gangway rising behind him, the air release of its lifts fluttering his long, black cloak as he walks.

Once aboard he makes his way to the command area for departure, upon entering, he sees Dex at his usual station but also waiting for him are the four knights, their hoods still drawn up over their heads so far that only the lower halves of their faces can be seen.

“Master Xol,” one of the black figures asks, “How is it that you are trained in the ways of the Sith, yet the academy on Coruscant does not accept non-human applicants.

“Correction, you impudent whelp,” Xol retorts, displeased by the line of questioning, “It does not openly accept non human applicants, but the Emperor could not allow someone of my talents to go untrained, so he had me trained, but only if he could use me as his instrument, and no other, thus the reason I do not cower before a soft meat officer like Tykon as you do. The Dark Side has taught me that no one is before Vader, his command and only his, I will follow. I expect no more of these foolish questions lest you wish to be cleaved in two and sent out the nearest airlock as chum for the Mynocks!”

“As you wish my lord,” the figure says, his head held in shame. “I apologize if I have offended you, it is in our training to seek out the Force-sensitives masquerading as Sith, namely, hidden Jedi.”

Xol, enraged, locks eyes with the Sith knights and says, “Would a Jedi do this?”

Once more, the Yautja taps into his anger to amplify his connection to the Force. With a thought, he begins to choke the four knights, who despite their own attunement to the Dark Side, seem unable to stop his attack. They rise up into the air, their hands around their throats attempting to fight the grip that has been placed upon them. With a turn to face away from the struggling knights, Xol ceases his assault and allows the four to drop to the deck of the flight area.

Coughing, his words strained, one of the knights speaks, “Lord Xol, we shall never question your loyalties again.”

“See that you don’t,” Xol replies, anger still in his voice, “Do yourselves a favor, we are about to make our descent to the surface, strap yourselves in.”

The four do as they are told and seat themselves where they can, pulling down their hoods, they reveal themselves finally. Xol takes notice that all are surprisingly quite young, human, and share no uniform appearance besides their attire. The one called Vosh seems to speak for them, and brash is his speech, he is very pale with long, black hair that comes down to the middle of his back, and the soft meat females probably find him attractive based on his facial symmetry, his skull would make a fine trophy, Xol thinks to himself. Gann is smaller, with short, dark hair and facial hair which he seems to have grown to appear older. The third, Chorbek is darker in skin color, and totally bald, he has instead decided to replace his lack of hair with intricate, detailed, tattoos in the same style as Xol, indicating a strong threshold for pain. Finally, the largest of the group, is Ulatt, even for soft meat he seems formidable, a fine prey. His hair a light blonde almost white, shaved down until he is almost bald, offset by his well manicured, long, blonde moustache and goatee.

Shortly after the Sith do as they are told and lock themselves in, the Wayfarer begins to breach the atmosphere of Ilum, the tiny freighter shuddering as it pierces through. Despite the turbulence, Dex seems quite comfortable on the controls occasionally making an adjustment on the descent path. Within a few minutes the ship successfully navigates passed the outer atmosphere and into the high altitude above the surface of Ilum. Clouds race by the windows as they make a steady decline towards the planet below. Moments later, Dex lands the ship atop a high cliff, its weight shifting slightly before finally coming to rest. The front window reveals nothing but whistling, wintry winds and dense packed snow and ice; in the distance the ruins of a structure can be seen, almost completely shrouded by the blowing snowfall.

Within seconds of Dex lowering the ramp into the thick snow outside, the snowtroopers immediately begin offloading their equipment and arming themselves with a plethora of weapons, including the components for a tripod mounted E-Web heavy blaster. Soon afterwards, Xol emerges accompanied by the four Sith. Dex, at the request of his Yautja comrade is staying with the ship, two snowtroopers stay as well, assigned to guard the vessel.

With the remaining ten troopers taking the lead, the band of Imperials and Xol embark towards the ruined building ahead. Once closer, they can see that it once was a great temple, an immense structure dedicated to the Jedi Order, now reduced to crumbling rock.

The snowtrooper on point waves an all clear before announcing, “I have found a way into the crystal caves, the support columns have held and there doesn’t seem to be any danger of a collapse.”

A snowtrooper with an orange pauldron on his shoulder indicating his senior rank orders his soldiers forward with a wave of his hand. The group moves towards the opening and one-by-one makes their way inside. Xol going last, should have the most difficulty due to his size, but much to the surprise of the rest of the group, he maneuvers his way through the narrow pass as elegantly as a snake moves through grass.

Once inside, the party is treated to a fantastic sight, large spires of black rock, shining with illuminated crystals, stretching up into the ceiling so far that it surpasses normal vision and plunges into the unknown black above. A short distance into the cavern, an upward, spiral bridge like path of natural origin, possibly even man made, lies before them and seems to lead further inside the cavern.

“Commander, lead these men up that bridge and report anything anomalous you see back to us, Lord Xol and ourselves will remain here guarding the entrance.” Vosh commands.

With a salute of confirmation, the commander along with his troops make haste towards the bridge as they move along it at quickened pace until they disappear from sight entirely.

A few minutes later, while Xol and the other wait at the entrance, a crackled message comes through on Vosh’s comlink that he is holding in his hand, “Sir, the path has led to a dais of some kind, with an assorted collection of Jedi artifacts on top of it, nothing else seems to up here, what are your orders?”

“Retrieve the artifacts and return them to me, after which place charges and blow up the entrance to these caverns, collapse it if you can.” Vosh responds excitedly.

As Vosh finishes speaking, Xol senses through the Force, great feelings of anger and fear coming from all of the Sith knights standing near him. Feeling that he already knows what the answer will be, he asks in a sarcastic tone, “Is something the matter young ones? You seem troubled.”

With an unsettled roar from Ulatt, all four draw their lightsabers, the red blades lighting up their faces with a sinister, crimson, hue. They encircle Xol, assuming an attack posture, waiting for an opportunity to pounce. Xol, then draws his gauntlet saber along with his master’s saber, but instead of raising them in defense, he lowers them to his sides, as if to taunt the already shaken Sith around him.

Unsure of what to do, three of the knights charge Xol simultaneously, presuming the strike will be too much for him to handle. Gann and Chorbek charge his front using the Force to increase their speed, while Ulatt, in an overhead swing, comes barreling at him from the rear. Vosh, deciding not to rush in, holds his position outside of the fray.

Xol waits until the last possible second before striking, in one fluid movement, he narrowly ducks beneath the oncoming sabers of Gann and Chorbek, lashing out in a sweep with his own energy blade, cutting their legs out from beneath them, sending them crumbling to the ground. At the same time, Xol whirls around to deliver a gauntlet saber strike to the chest of a surprised Ulatt. He lets out a final gasp before Xol removes the gauntlet from his chest.

Vosh, now seeing his opportunity, slashes at the distracted Yautja. Xol sensing the attack, moves to block it, but is too late and is slashed across his left shoulder, not deep enough to amputate but enough to make him bleed and feel pain. Xol’s roar of pain, overpowers the ones of Gann and Chorbek, who lie on the ground in agony, their legs from the mid-thigh down, completely severed. Phosphorescent green blood drips down the arm of Xol, its drops falling to the ground, lighting up the black of the cave floor where they fall.

“So, false Sith, you can be hurt.” Vosh says, an evil grin forming across his face. “I always suspected you to be a charlatan and so did Tykon, but when you punished us aboard your ship the way you did, after my questions, I knew then for certain you were covering up the lie that you are not a true Sith knight.”

“If you are an example of what a Sith is supposed to be, I count myself lucky.” Xol replies, with a laugh.

“How dare you mock the Sith, you inhuman scum!” Vosh says, outraged. “I will strike you down myself and present your corpse as a prize for Emperor Vader.”

“You can try Vosh,” Xol says, a smile hidden behind his mask. “But only true hunters get to collect trophies.”

Vosh angered, strikes at the Yautja with a flurry of wide, clumsy blows, the crash of lightsabers colliding, sending light and sound echoing in every corner of the cavern. With acrobatic proficiency, Xol flips overtop of the young Sith in such a way, that he lands at his back without exposing his own. Vosh reels around to strike his opponent behind him, only to be blocked by Xol’s gauntlet blade. Their sabers locked together, the cold, dark mask of the alien Dark Jedi staring between the crossed blades is unsettling to the young human.

“Vosh,” the voice behind the mask says, “You forgot one important lesson, they taught you at that academy on Coruscant.”

“What might that be?” the Sith replies, his voice strained with effort as he pushes against his larger opponent’s saber.

“How to count,” Xol snidely fires back. “I have two hands. Sith soft meat.”

A look of fear washes over Vosh’s face as he realizes that he has made this fatal error. With a swipe, the red blade of Xol’s other lightsaber slices along the young Sith’s torso, cleaving him in two. A red mist of blood sprays briefly from the surgically precise cut across his body before his eyes become still and the human warrior exhales his last breath.

Vosh’s lifeless halves collapse to the floor, his lightsaber’s blade retracting into its hilt as he falls. Xol, walking over to the bodies of the near dead Gann and Chorbek, looks down at them and despite their pleas for mercy, he plunges his saber into their chests, ending their lives instantly.

Relieved that combat has ended, Xol retracts his sabers and takes out his medical kit, attempting to mend the slash on his arm. In the distance he can hear the snowtroopers returning from their mission, he knows he doesn’t have much time and must find cover.

Suddenly, a rain of red blaster fire fills the area; the troopers have taken up position at the top of the bridge and must have received orders to kill him. Narrowly dodging blaster bolts, Xol draws his lightsabers again and begins to run full speed towards the armor-clad assassins, he uses the Force to increase his speed and agility, making the passing blaster fire seem as still as stars in the night sky. As he runs, he deflects some fire back to their shooters, sending them falling off the bridge as they die. Troopers that get within slashing range are cut down effortlessly, as the enraged Yautja rushes towards the active and assembled E-Web firing from the summit. Drawing closer, he no longer becomes concerned with small arms fire, allowing any that can hit him to strike his armor as he evades from side to side. Xol is surprised at the fearlessness of his attackers, the snowtroopers even when they are being slaughtered, do not retreat, they would rather die than fail it seems. Once within twenty feet of the E-Web, Xol leaps into the air toward the gun position. With a powerful downward Force push, he flings the gun and its two operators off the side of the narrow bridge. Their screams trail behind them as they plummet to their deaths below. Xol, now exhausted, takes a moment to breathe deeply, cooling the fire in his weary muscles.

Remembering that the soldiers had found something of interest, Xol searches the corpses for the commander, hoping of course, that he didn’t send him off the edge into uncertain blackness. Amidst the carnage he can clearly see the orange rank pauldron, and stepping over to the body, begins to rifle through his backpack. Inside he finds a featureless, white box, just like the one that Tyvokka’s holocron came in. Certain that this is what they had found; he grabs the box and begins to walk back down the bridge towards the exit.

As he walks back, he uses his helmet communicator to contact Dex, “DX-1165, are you alright?” Xol asks, expecting to hear silence from the other side.

“Everything is fine here sir, threat has been neutralized,” Dex says proudly.

“Good to hear Dex, I was worried I would have had to kill two more snowtroopers for you.” Xol replies, jokingly.

“You kiddin’ sir, no enlisted grunt will ever get the jump on a commando, that’s a fact,” Dex responds, his tone cocky. “Besides, they would have needed bigger blasters to even stand a chance.”

“Well if I can take you away from your ego for a moment,” Xol jokes. “I could use your help, scavenging whatever we can from this group, and we still need to collect a large quantity of these crystals before Tykon starts to figure out that his assassination attempt didn’t work.”

“Affirmative sir, I will be there faster than a bead of sweat down a Jawa’s back.” Dex says before closing off the comm channel.

Minutes later, the sounds of the Wayfarer transport landing outside the cave can be heard, the rumble of its engines bouncing echoes against the walls of the cavern, while its exhaust blows snow and freezing wind through the entrance. The draft subsides, and the hydraulic sounds of the exit ramp being lowered can be heard. Emerging a few moments later is Dex, bloodstained and singed snowtrooper backpacks in each hand, his armor in a similar state. Xol paying no attention to his arrival, continues piling all of the backpacks, blasters, and armor the soldiers had on them into an area near the entrance.

Looking around in amazement as he sets his two backpacks down, Dex asks Xol “How to you expect us to haul this crystal back to the ship? The entrance is too narrow for a loader to fit through, and even though cargo containers can be moved through, they would be too heavy, not to mention these crystals are still embedded in that black rock.”

“I have a plan Dex, and as long as you still remember how to use explosives, I think it will succeed.” Xol replies, as he looks around at the crystal-laced columns of ebony stone. “We place some of these charges and in essence blast mine, yielding hopefully enough material to supply any new Jedi Order effectively, at least that’s the hope. We don’t have time to do much else before the Empire realizes what’s happened.

“Not a problem,” Dex says, confidently. “Those snow troopers left me enough explosives to obliterate ten of these cave complexes, whatever those Jedi jewels are Xol, the Empire wanted them gone.

After removing a handful of charges from the snow trooper’s collection of gear, Dex begins setting them to bases of stone spires that play no part in the support structure of the cave system. After he feels that he has placed enough, he signals to Xol to fall back to a safe distance and begins to run away from the blast area himself. A few minutes later, the concussion of explosions vibrates the air as the charges detonate in sequence, sending debris and clouds of black rock dust everywhere. In the thick, blinding, haze rock can still be heard crumbling.

From out of the stillness, beyond the rubble Dex shouts “Yaaaa-hoooo! I love demo missions! I still don’t understand how we are going to get this slag out of here, but it was fun to blow up, I will tell you that much.”

“Prepare for takeoff DX-1165, I will stay to load the ship, I will be with you momentarily.” Xol replies, a sternness in his tone.

“But…” Dex says, before being interrupted.

“No questions DX-1165, just start up the transport,” Xol snaps, his eyes glowing red with energy.

Without another word said, Dex rushes overtop of the crumbled rock heap before him towards the exit, out into the blowing ice and snow of Ilum. The Wayfarer transports engines ignite a short time later, their exhaust once again blowing snow into the entrance, but also stirring up the near settled black dust of the collapsed rock.

Amidst the fragmented chunks of rock and crystal, Xol clearing away a space large enough for him to stand in, removes his helmet and cloak, setting them gently at his side before kneeling down. Knelt, he begins to breathe deeply and closes his eyes. Leaning forward he immerses his two hands into the black dirt in front of him. His mind begins to focus, sharpen, like a blade against a stone raining sparks of the Dark Side down upon him. Like an empty vessel filling with water, Xol channels the Force into himself, just as Master Blades had taught him so many years ago. Rock, earth, crystals and even the confiscated snowtroopers gear levitates into the air. Xol’s body shakes with spasms as he lifts more and more of the rubble. Seeming to be an eternity for him, it takes the Yautja Dark Jedi only a minute to lift everything, dust and all from the cave floor and into the air. Then, like a great levy giving way to a flood, all of the floating objects funnel through the exit of the cave and into the waiting cargo bay. His body still quivering in effort, Xol’s eyes snap open, crackling violently with red electricity as lets out a loud, triumphant, roar as the last pieces of cargo set down in the Wayfarer’s hold. Once again, exhausted by his efforts, he crumples to the ground, his labored breathing kicking up what little dust remains around him. Straining against fatigue, he pushes himself off the floor and stands up, he looks around at what remains, a vast cavern of precious stones that he couldn’t save and the bodies of the slain Imperial soldiers.

Still extremely tired, he adheres to his Yautja hunting traditions and begins to skin the bodies of the snowtroopers, at least, those that are mostly intact, making sure to remove the spinal column and skull of their commander as his trophy. Even with all these years of training and tutelage in the ways of the Force, he has not forgotten his roots. Leaving only the skinned carcasses behind and the effluence resulting from such an act, Xol, his gory prize in one hand and his helmet and cloak in the other, emerges from the cave, his warm tired body stung by the harsh cold of the world outside.

As quickly as he can, he boards the waiting freighter and raises the ramp leading to the cargo area, just as it begins to lift off the ground.

Xol’s feet crunch under him as he walks across some of the charcoal colored fragments from the newly loaded cargo that covers nearly half of his ship’s storage. He makes his way to his private training area, where the holocron of Tyvokka still sits undisturbed. Setting his bloody prize down, he turns around to start searching the seized equipment for the ornate box the Imperials had recovered from the dais. As he walks back over the coarse, black grains from the cave floor his foot catches against something sharp, making him wince in pain. He looks down to see a rough, black, shard of crystal lying, near invisible in the dirt. Judging by the amount of rock still clinging to it, it must have been deep inside one of the spires that were blown up. He feels drawn by the Force to this stone, and based on that alone, places it in a storage pouch for examination later. Amused but not distracted, he continues his search for the ornate box from the cave. His search is interrupted by Dex’s voice over the intercom.

“Lord Xol, we have just broken orbit and you better get up here,” Dex states, his voice amplified by the wide open space of the cargo hold. “Tykon is on the com and he insists to speak to you.”

“I will be there shortly,” Xol says, speaking into the nearest intercom receiver.

In a rush, Xol runs to the pilot’s compartment, hastily donning his cloak and helmet. Once arrived at the cockpit, he immediately goes to his command station and turns on the still flashing communication line.

“Commander Tykon, so glad to hear a friendly voice after such a perilous mission,” Xol says sarcastically.

“You will pay for what you have done here today alien scum! The Empire will reward me greatly for capturing you and your cargo.” The young officer replies arrogantly. “Oh and don’t think I didn’t know about your clone accomplice rigging your fighter with high explosives to somehow cripple my vessel, I have jettisoned your patrol craft out with the rest of the garbage, it floats through space even now.”

Before Xol can retort, Dex begins to speak on the channel, “Commander, this is DX-1165, that device I placed on the fighter was a long-range tracking beacon and astrogation uplink, no explosive at all. It would allow Lord Xol to track his ship and if necessary engage its navigation systems including hyperdrive remotely bringing it to his location wherever that may be, a little piece of Rakatan technology I picked up some time ago.”

“So you failed to sabotage my ship? You see Lord Xol, not even your antiquated commando stands a chance against the forces of the Empire!” Tykon says with pretention.

“On the contrary commander,” Dex again interrupts. “I did sabotage your vessel, I uploaded a command sequence into your system using that protocol droid you sent to our room, I overrode his programming with another remote link I attached to him, and you thought I was thanking him didn’t you?”

His voice raised, the commander yells, “What have you done to my ship saboteur! Disable it this instant!”

 

"Basically commander,” Dex says, his voice lowering to a taunting whisper. “The command sequence tells your reactor to prepare for lightspeed and boost its power, the problem is, you aren’t going anywhere and the power boost will build and build and within seconds overload and blow your reactor core. I also relayed this same command sequence secretly through your ship to ship communications to the disabled Interdictors, whose reactors are also still online.”

Shocked, the commander takes a few seconds to reply, “You’re bluffing, there is no way you could ever accomplish such a feat without my knowing.”

“You? Yes. Captain Salus, probably not.” Dex says cheekily. “I am a Republic Commando, trained to exploit the weaknesses of my enemy and use them as my strengths. Goodbye, Commander Tykon.

With a flick of a switch Dex stops communication and pull out a remote detonator. With a press of the lit red button sitting atop it, he looks back to Xol and says, “Brace yourself sir.”

As soon as he tells the Yautja to do so, a flash of white light streams through the forward viewport blinding Xol and Dex temporarily. Once their sight returns they see nothing but floating chunks of wreckage where the three star destroyers once were.

“Well,” Dex says with a laugh. “At least they dumped your fighter with the garbage before that happened!”

“Good thing Dex,” Xol replies agreeing, “Use that device of yours and tell it to rendezvous with us, then get us the hell out of here.”

“Will do sir,” Dex says affirmatively. “Any destination in particular you had in mind Xol?”

“Surprise me Dex,” Xol responds, his voice showing signs of his fatigue.

With a quick maneuver of the Wayfarer transport, Dex engages the hyperdrive and propels the ship away from Ilum, to parts unknown.

TO BE CONTINUED…