Wardens of the Darkness

Posted on Mon Oct 1st, 2018 @ 4:27pm by Bomoor Thort & Thane & Amare

4,564 words; about a 23 minute read

Chapter: Chapter V: Unbound
Location: Korriban Orbital Station, Horuset system
Timeline: Korriban Day 1 (1,218 ABY), After "Where Jedi Fear to Tread"
Tags: Korriban Orbital Station, Falorn, Orys, Tal Omna, Lameer, Crimson Craw, Korriban, Horuset

OLD

Bomoor exhaled as he took a seat in the co-pilot position, feeling slightly more world-weary under the modest nullification of his Force senses, "This will be the first time we have actively engaged against the Order. I thought perhaps I would feel some guilt or some anger but it is worse than that: I just feel... nothing."

His dark eyes were fixed on the dark and desolate system outside their old, patchwork ship, "But it is the eve of a new year, Thane, and we have a new purpose and a new bond. Let old ties be forgotten, I say. We will succeed against Axion and prove to the Republic that the Order was wrong about you; about us."

As the Ysalamiri drew closer, the pair slipped further and further from the vast network of the Force until they were entirely absent of their powers. Only one system away lay some of the darkest forces they had ever encountered, but, as the last few minutes of 1,217 ticked by, the Red Raptor crew could sense nothing.

NEW

Below was the enemy: the cradle of darkness. Above it, hanging in the sky, a great sword of light, poised to strike should the dark ever rise to meet it. Through the Force, the lone Jedi Shadow saw such clear visions. Sometimes the darkness would rise up and meet its fate at the sharp edge of righteousness, but occasionally it happened differently; sometimes, the darkness was sly and would strike from above, breaking the blade, and sometimes it seemed as though the blade decayed on its own, freeing the evil it guarded.

On this day, however, there were no visions. The darkness of the Korriban below was quiet and the only sound was the settling of the metal surrounding the meditation room. Shortly after receiving his rank of Jedi Master, Falorn had requested this post aboard the orbital station guarding the ancient Sith homeworld. He wanted to be a shining example of the Reborn Order’s commitment to rooting out evil and guarding the light. Grand Master Quellus had commended him on taking up the mantle from the previous Master, who had himself dedicated over fifty years to the post before his natural death.

It was a remote and lonely posting for the old Snivvian, even with the company of his fellow Jedi posted to the station: his own apprentice along with two other knights of the order. Although they had access to their own training room, meditation chamber and even a library aboard the station, it lacked the community that came from being in a true temple. Non-Jedi staff were kept to a minimum, with a small Judicial Forces security force, pledged by the Republic and a modest crew of maintenance staff and communications technicians, who rotated their posting every few months. But Falorn saw himself as the central candle flame that burned against the dark and it gave him great pride.

Giving up on his meditation today, with no visions in sight, the Master Shadow focused on the approach of his padawan, a young female Kel Dor who had been apprenticed to him for only a few short months but who had already proven herself a powerful agent of the Light side. He presumed that she had word of the Caanan research vessel that had transmitted its documentation to them several hours ago. Their permissions were valid so that only left the job of screening them for Force sensitivity, which he always insisted on doing personally.

With a slight hydraulic hiss, the doorway opened and light from the hallway illuminated the dim chamber, highlighting the various statues and runes that had been placed around the exterior of the soft mat in the centre. Falorn rose up from his seated position on the mat to view his visitor.

"Please forgive the intrusion, master," the Kel Dor padawan, Tal Omna, said through her antiox breath mask with a solemn bow of respect at the open doorway. "I have the report you requested on the Caanan science ship," she strode closer and handed off a slim polished datapad to Falorn. "A C.E.C. YX-type. Rather unusual choice for research purposes, but their credentials meet our qualifiers. They are entering short-range sensor proximity. Neither myself or the others can sense any overt Force-connection with the crew as of yet. How shall we proceed?"

“With patience, young padawan,” came the reply, which did not really answer her question until he added, “We have some time until they get into orbit. I shall accompany you back to the communications room and we can assess this new ship.”

Walking over to stand beside her, the Snivvian master was a couple of inches shorter than his student, but the greying hairs and deep creases in his skin showed he was clearly the senior between them. They began their walk back along the corridor towards the central lift to the communications centre, which soon arrived to take them on their way.

“Tell me,” Falorn asked, “Why do you believe the ship is unusual?”

"This may sound biased," Tal replied, "but it's a known fact that Corellian freighters of that type have a long history of being predominantly owned by smugglers, pirates, and some import/export shipping companies. The YX hull is adaptable, but there's virtually no aftermarket support for scientific purposes, at least none that I can find. I wouldn't be as skeptical if it were a proper survey ship like the others that have come here before."

"It does indeed sound biased," answered a reverberating, starkly artificial, voice as the lift arrived at its destination. However, the tone was not cruel, and its origin was anything but artificial.

Standing just outside of the lift was Jedi Knight Orys Valyr, tall and densely-muscled, courtesy of his years of warring and strict training regimen, which had continued long into his past decade or so of service aboard the Korriban station. Having requested the posting much as Falorn had, the bald middle-aged Corellian had almost become as much of a fixture of the station as the Snivvian.

"And whilst I would usually be the first to agree with your air of caution," Orys went on, an honest statement, given his renowned cynicism of anything starkly un-Jedi, "it is not entirely unheard of for these archaeologists to use hired vessels or even mercenaries for their errands. Caanus is isolationist and sleepy - not that you should ignore your instincts."

Orys gave a polite bow of reverence to Falorn, a Jedi Master he had made clear his admiration for in their years of service together. As he had declared loudly and frequently in the past, Orys considered himself somewhat indebted to the elder Jedi for his years of patience and support to the Corellian since the Second Outer Rim Conflict, being a war that had left him robbed of his sight, hearing and natural speech. His trials during that time had resulted in him being reliant on his vocoder and twin metallic eye- and ear-pieces for communication, and had, most poignantly, very nearly resulted in his fall to the dark side of the Force.

"It seems you draw more sceptics and cynics to your banner with each passing year, Master," he added as the trio fell into step together.

“It is not a failing to practice scepticism, particularly when performing a task such as ours,” Falorn smiled and nodded back to the cybernetically-augmented Knight as they entered the lift, “So long as we remain open to our other faculties too, such as rationality and, of course, the Force.”

The Master Jedi pulled out a digital timepiece from his pocket, which was attached to his belt by a thin chain. He gave it a quizzical glance before looking back to Orys, “I thought this was Lameer’s shift,” he stated, speaking of the only Jedi not currently with them.

"It is indeed," Tal Omna said with a hint of concern. She tapped the comlink mounted on her left sleeve. "Omna to Lameer, you are overdue for your shift. Respond."

Orys winced, as much as he could with his eternally-unblinking metal eyepieces distorting his otherwise gruff features. "You, uhh, probably just woke the poor bastard," he half-grumbled, half-muttered. At the glances from the other two, he gave a slightly embarrassed shrug - not a typical sight for the burly warrior. "We played sabacc last night. I lost. The crafty horned devil knows his cards, I'll give him that. I owe him three shifts."

Of them all, Lameer was probably the easiest-going, but that certainly did not make him any less devoted to their cause. The Half-Bothan (as his species had become known) had spent the entirety of his career within the Reborn Order as an accomplished Jedi Shadow, having wandered the furthest regions of the Third Republic in pursuits of dark relics and those who would wield them. He was believed to have had more confirmed successes than even Master Falorn himself when it come to uncovering such totems of the dark side.

And, apparently, he was an accomplished card player.

“So long as you keep your mind sharp when on duty, you can lose as much sabaac as you like,” Falorn frowned as he tucked back his timepiece. The life of a Shadow often appealed to the most free-willed of individuals, which led to some excellent lone operatives. But Falorn had observed that, when these individuals came together on assignments such as these, they found it hard to settle into a structured routine.

He was no exception in his younger days; feeling at his best when hunting down fallen Force-users or artefacts of the Dark Side but he had puts his days of covert assignments behind him for this most vital of roles.

The lift came to a stop and the three Jedi stepped out into the large circular communications room, with a viewing window that stretched around the whole circumference, allowing for 360 degrees of observation out into space. Just below the reinforced glass were a wide variety of panels and data monitors, which incorporated numerous controls. While it was known as the ‘Communications Centre’, it also functioned as a central control room for the entire station’s functions.

Omna’s sleeve communicator started spouting static before a jovial but clearly weary voice came through, “Happy New Year to you too, Tal. Did dear Orys not tell you he was taking over my watch?”

"I just learned about it moments ago," Tal replied shaking her head. Falorn had delegated her to be in charge of the personnel schedule, and last minute changes were more than a little irritating to deal with. She especially disliked shifts being traded like casino chips in games of chance. They were the chosen elite Jedi that held the beacon of light over the darkest and most infamous of planets in the galaxy, not the common drunken rabble of the Outer Rim. "And Happy New Year to you too. Look, I know you covered a double watch this time last week. You earned some R&R, but we need you on the comm deck to help us verify an incoming ship. After that, I promise you can have the rest of the day off, and half of tomorrow too. Agreed?"

There was a pause on the line and the sound of a heavy intake of breath, “I’ll be with you shortly,” the Half-Bothan replied before the line disconnected.

“You know, my young apprentice,” came the fatherly voice of Master Falorn as he walked over to one particular console and began typing in his identification details, “Being a Jedi Shadow means being prepared for the unexpected. A simple schedule on a datapad cannot be relied upon like you can the Force, or even your own sharp intuitions, which I know you do not lack for.”

"I understand, master," Tal conceded to the wisdom that did not fall upon deaf ears.

Falorn had now logged into the console and several screens around him flashed to life. The scanner defaulted to its last view, which was following the path of the YX-1980 freighter they were expecting. He then turned to Knight Valyr, who was looking out into space through his artificial eyes, “As for you, Orys, I suppose the principled thing would be to stick around and honour your bet but that choice is down to you.”

"Of course, Master Falorn," Orys answered, all duty and business, and not one for his honour to be called into question. The Corellian wasted no time in punching commands into the variety of consoles arrayed about them, his oversized fingers jabbing inelegantly but swiftly, not one missing their target.

A display swept across the glass, and Aurebesh alphanumeric figures began dotting themselves around at various key points, nearly all related to the incoming vessel. An artificial approach/flight path was plotted by the station's computer, and numerous straight lines and boxes pinpointed the current location of the ship, which was currently invisible to the average sentient's naked eye. Even Orys' hypersensitive and technologically-advanced eyes were not quite powerful enough to discern the vessel in the void.

Just as the lift doors separated to reveal the final member of their party, a holographic display of the vessel, based on what little information could be uncovered on the newcomer, took form in the centre of the room. It was not a real-time image, being made mostly of stock data and the small tid-bits the station's sensors had revealed thus far. The lettering above it spelled out Crimson Craaw.

"By your command, Master," Orys declared, now stepping back from the console in deference to the Snivvian and not once sparing a glance to his newly-arrived sabacc foe.

“Very good, very good,” Falorn nodded his head both in thanks to Orys and in greeting to Lameer, “Well then, with all of us here and on the dawn of a new year, at least back on the capital, let us take this opportunity to demonstrate how well we work as a team. After all we have a sacred mission and must never lose sight of that.”

He did not waste a moment waiting for some sign of communal spirit, for he knew that every one of these noble Jedi would lay down their lives defending this station, even if their individual characters were not always in sync. He pressed down firmly on a worn green button, opening a channel to the supposed Caanan research vessel.

“Crimson Craaw, this is Jedi Master Falorn of the Korriban orbital station,” his voice took on a different, almost menacing tone, practised to convey the serious nature of their voyage here to this system, “Prepare to receive a pre-calculated flight path into the planet’s orbit. Please do not deviate from this course.”

He looked around and nodded towards the group, indicating that someone should transmit that data, before turning back with his finger still on this button, “While your documentation has been approved, you will not be able to proceed to the planet until I and my fellow Jedi are satisfied you are not open to the corruption this planet holds. Please be aware, this is for your own protection but any sign of resistance will result in your immediate arrest.”

All the Jedi and Judicial Forces on board were also aware that they held the authority to immediately execute any travellers who they felt posed a threat. While it was not usually advertised, most who came here knew the contract they were entering into when visiting the Sith world.

“Can you please acknowledge receipt of this transmission and the subsequent flight path data?” Falorn asked before lifting his leathery brown finger from the panel and awaiting a reply.

Orys was glaring, as much as he could with his prosthetics. In truth, he always had the appearance of glaring - a fact that had followed him even in his younger, more exuberant and warring days, prior to the loss of his eyes. Like the others, with the mild exception of Falorn who was leading the communication with the vessel, he was reaching out with the Force towards the Craaw, probing its inhabitants.

There had been numerous efforts over the decades by both curious Jedi and dark-siders to slip past the Reborn defences, either undetected or under the guise of other purposes. Of course, with the studious and vigilant approach of the wise and venerable Grand Master Quellus, the Jedi Shadows had maintained their watchful post without fail. At least, not to their knowledge.

Orys was certain of the verity of their cause, and of their eternal success.

"There is a limited Force presence," the Human mechanical baritone voice declared, not surrendering any hint of his true feelings on the subject.

A male voice then fed through the station's communications systems in Galactic Basic, with a crisp and well-spoken accent that betrayed an upper-class Coruscanti influence. Such things were, after all, important and well-known to the Shadows.

"Korriban orbital station, this is the Crimson Craaw. Transmission and flight path acknowledged."

There was no more preamble from the speaker, and the vessel had indeed shifted its course to fit perfectly with that assigned to them by the Jedi.

"Ahchee!" A loud ear-jarring high pitched sneeze cut across the open comm feed from the Craaw.

There was an irritated pause that followed the noise, before the voice spoke up once more. "Apologies. My intern has a delicate nose." Although it was not entirely obvious, there was a strained hint to the speaker's tone.

Falorn frowned but did not respond to the apology. He looked at the display showing the model of the ship and tried to get some sense of the people in the vessel: the charter allowed for three non-Force sensitive individuals and a cargo of various survey and archaeological equipment. It was rare that the Jedi asked to inspect cargo in person, relying purely on their Force perception to detect any illicit activity. He could sense nothing from the ship, but it was not yet in visual range.

Given the silence, Lameer walked forwards, his hooved feet clicking on the metal floor, “Are you sensing a disturbance, Master Falorn?”

“Hm?” the older Jedi found his train of thought disturbed, “Not at all, my friend. I sense nothing from the ship. I suppose I am a bit distracted today; my usual visions have not been coming to me as of late. But things will become clearer soon; the ship is still a way out.”

Pushing the button before him, Falorn addressed the ship in his serious voice once again, “Please can you confirm how many people are on board your vessel and the purpose of your expedition?”

"There are three of us," the voice answered. "I am a representative of the Archaeologist Guild of Caanus, accompanied by two non-Caanan retainers to assist me with my work. We are following up on recent discoveries by Dromacheans who visited the world, and so wish to make an initial survey of a region to the south of the Valley of the Dark Lords."

"The Valley!" Orys grumbled, turning to Lameer and Falorn, making sure that the comm system was inactive as he spoke. "There's nothing left there but false promises and wretched myths, pick cleaned millennia ago." Not that it was a peculiar destination; many of the smaller excursions to the ancient world had an interest in visiting the Valley, or at least destinations close by.

“It is true though,” Lameer commented, “The Dromacheans did have an interest in the Valley and they found enough material there to occupy their time. I read the report: surveys of the original native structures present even before the Dark Jedi conquered their world. They recommended further excavation to determine the level of technology their early civilisation possessed. You know the sort of thing that interests them: pipes, roads, pointy sticks. Let them have those so long as the Force artefacts are left alone.”

Falorn hummed his agreement, “If this is truly a continuation of that same excavation, then we have little to worry about. Aside from their cold manner, the Dromachean team was highly cooperative and spent no longer than necessary on the surface. I suppose we must watch and wait until they come into range of our perception.”

---

As Coda overheard the exchange between former and current Jedi, she held a handkerchief over her face and sought to find a way to distract herself from the cold queasy feelings of being detached from the Force. She decided to take one last opportunity to check over any messages that might have come through to the ship before arriving near Korriban. According to the computer, there was something in plain text that had just completed its decryption in her private inbox. The origin codes were vague, but she recognized the distinct sequence of numbers and symbols: it was from her friend, the mysterious slicer known on the 4jinn network as "Contrarian". She silently read the first few lines, and her dark solid black eyes widened with grave concern.

That same stern voice came through from the station, “Thank you for your co-operation. We will contact you again once you establish an orbit. Korriban Station out.”

“That must be Master Falorn,” Bomoor speculated once the connection clicked off, “He has been running the station for several years now. Never had the look of a Jedi Shadow, that man, but I heard he was quite gifted in infiltration.”

Thane gave a huff. Although Loren had been a Shadow and a close friend (her untimely demise aside), he had always had a lingering distrust - and disdain - for many of their order in the Order. However, the expression on Coda's face now caught his attention, even without the gift of the Force to make clear the shift.

Also turning to Coda, the Ithorian gave a puzzled expression, “Is something the matter or are you just feeling ill?”

"Both," she replied, taking a second to make sure the comm signal to Korriban Station was closed. She gestured to the message on the screen. "My friend from Nar Shaddaa contacted me again. He and his anti-Hutt slicer pals were found..." she turned to Bomoor with a look like she might have seen a ghost, which, in her case in recent months, she actually did, and on more than one occasion, "...by a Jedi. It was a Nautolan woman who asked about me and wants to know where I am. She asked if I am with the two of you by name. She says she wants to help, but if I fail to respond within 24 hours, she will expose my friends there to their Hutt enemies. I've seen what happens to people the Hutts have placed bounties on, and it can be worse than death if they're captured."

Bomoor visibly flinched, somewhat less in control of his emotions under the sway of the Ysalamiri. Such news could not have come at a worst time; they had passed the point of no return on their current endeavour, “I knew that slicer contact was a risk but why must this happen now of all times?” Bomoor lamented.

However, thinking on it a moment, Coda’s news was slightly odd, “Hold on a moment; a Jedi looking for you?” he queried, “Are you certain the woman was looking specifically for you?”

He did not intend to sound dismissive of Coda’s worth, but any Reborn Jedi would presumably be more interested in capturing the suddenly heretical Bomoor and Thane. Unless, of course, someone in the Rift Jedi had tracked down Coda after Lorrd.

The news troubled Thane as well, particularly at this very moment, even if it caused a spike in his curiosity. "Do not respond," he warned with as much gravity he could muster without his mystical power, locking his blue eyes on Coda's dark ones. "I have sympathy for your friends there, but we are in no position to risk any sort of exposure to anyone of that ilk. Whether Reborn or Rift, Dark or Grey, we cannot let any sort of Jedi know where we are, especially now. For all we know, this could even be that kriffing Nautolan apprentice of Axion's, retracing our steps to get the shard they lost at Jericho!"

Hearing of Axion having a Nautolan apprentice of his own was news to Coda. It briefly took her thoughts back to the dark herald that first night in the Lorrd desert. She recalled those words spoken from the possessed human interpreter: There exists a similitude of yourself; a mirror wedged between two souls by the Living Force; two women with similar hearts, yet two distinct identities. Neither lives true unless one consumes the other.

"I couldn't reply even if I wanted to," Coda said dejectedly. "It could blow our cover transmitting to Hutt space at this range." She then thought to herself, I'm sorry, Malfro. I hope you'll find another way. She considered through her stressful mental Forceless haze one small way she could help without transmitting, but it could require Thane and Bomoor to not be looking over her shoulder. She didn't want to risk it at that moment not knowing how much they understood computer network firewalls. All she needed was ten seconds or so of alone-time to open the system settings and change protocol port 2447 from "Protected" to unsecured "Open" status. It was an antiquated, seldom-used network port, but Malfro and his team could use that tiny opening to determine the Red Raptor's position without blowing the ship's cover, that is unless that threatening Jedi in the message didn't kill the slicers first.

Thane was unconvinced. It was a feeling, he admitted to himself, that was likely born more of the fact he could rely on the Force to detect the verity of his apprentice's words, and was instead relying on his knowledge of her character and Nautolan tells.

The main console began bleeping to confirm they had begun to take orbit, disrupting Thane's Coda concerns and drawing him back to his Jedi ones. In a short space of time, Korriban had begun to loom large beyond the viewport, the great rust-coloured globe consuming nearly all visible space in front of the Raptor. Even from space, great crevices could be seen to run along the planet's surface like ancient scars, edging their way across an endless sea of dust. Clouds spiralled here and there about the world, but more sparsely than many of the worlds Thane and Bomoor had been to, although an obvious storm cell could be seen tearing its way across one part of the southern hemisphere.

His attention almost entirely consumed by the sight, Thane longed to touch the Force and allow the flow of the ancient Sith world to come to him. His own anticipation surprised him, but he did his best to contain any outwards show.

"We will discuss it later," he then said to Coda, seeing the communications panel light up, his eyes drawn to the now-visible orbital station just beyond them. "We still have some old colleagues to dupe."

TBC

 

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