OSSUS

BENEATH MOUNT GUJAHHL

Blood ran into her eyes, but she ignored it. The Zabrak’s horns had opened wounds across half her face and the pain threatened to cloud her judgment. Mara felt herself charged by the Dark Side, was practically blinded by it, and yet that blindness was welcomed, for it blocked out the material world and revealed to her the gorgeous machinations of the Force, of the dark pools of energy available, of the swirling eddies of pure energy that formed the primary machinations of the universe. The Emperor had once told her this was called the “exultation,” and said that his master had once said it was the very quintessence of joining with the Dark Side.

And yet.

Her mind expanded. Her muscles were fueled by the power of the Dark Side, her hatred channeled into a blade of malice. All of her being was focused on the enemy in front of her, her lightsaber pushing the Zabrak back with great sweeping arcs, and she answered each of his attacks with three of her own.

And yet.

Mara pulled the Dark Side to her like a cape, swaddling herself in its warmth, and sent strength into her joints and leapt up and over the Zabrak, flipping and landing perfectly behind him, cutting him off. He was now pinned between her and the Inquisitor. He was losing ground—

And yet.

Mara could not shake this feeling. Like something was wrong. She felt like a wineglass teetering on the edge of a table, one little bump could send her over the side, and she would shatter, just like her concentration would shatter if she did not figure out what this strange disturbance was—

He draws us near something, she thought, ducking her enemy’s attack. His actions are not without design.

The Zabrak’s broken, staccato attacks were strange, truly alien to her mind, countering her own techniques in strange ways. Ways she’d never seen. Her enemy kept her on the backfoot, firing directly at her with his blaster, forcing her to block with her lightsaber while he fended off the Inquisitor’s double-bladed lightsaber.

The Inquisitor shot out a hand, trying to push the Zabrak using the Force. But the Zabrak planted his feet and slid backwards, stabbing his lightsaber into the ground to slow himself, firing back at Mara the whole time. Then he whipped around and fired at the Inquisitor, while attacking Mara in with his lightsaber in the upside-down grip.

In the darkness, the momentary flashes of their lightsabers meeting, and the oscillating flashes of blasterfire, would be seizure-inducing in lesser beings, and it put Mara even more off-guard. At one point she lunged at her enemy, but he sensed it coming, danced out of the way, shot at her as he dodged past, and while she blocked it the Zabrak used that moment to get in behind her. He’d now lined them both up in the narrow corridor, so that they could only attack her one at a time.

His actions do have design. But what?

Mara advanced. Now pressing her enemy into a new room, Mara couldn’t help but sense she’d gone exactly where the Zabrak intended. A trap? If it was so, she couldn’t see it. They were alone in a room filled with fallen debris. Above her, she could barely make out a hole in the ceiling, and the flash of blasterfire illuminated a few blocks of collapsed wall, a few stone slabs that might’ve once been tables, a metal girder, and what appeared to be a statue of something that looked like a huge squid or—

Is that…?

She had only a moment to consider it before she once again had to fend off a pair of blaster bolts. Mara tried advancing, then suddenly the Zabrak did something Mara did not expect—he raised his lightsaber hilt at her, flicked two fingers at her, and summoned a flash of green light! It was bright like glowing jade, and shaped like a dagger. It crashed through her lightsaber and shattered, and the shards sliced into her face, opening her right cheek. Dathomiri magick! Small splinters went into her right eye and she screamed and used her pain and rage to draw more power from the Dark Side.

Mara sensed even the Inquisitor’s shock. He had not expected this sort of power from the enemy.

The Zabrak tried to maneuver away from them. But this chamber was much larger than the corridor whence they came, and so now she and the Inquisitor could maneuver around the Zabrak.

They surrounded him. All three of them stood there, panting, bleeding, covered in dust, staring at one another. The hum of their three lightsabers filled the dark chamber. And some other sound…a faint thrumming, and a knocking, followed by a strange whine. Mara glanced around, sensing a disturbance in the Force, a warning from the Dark Side that all was not as it seemed—

The Zabrak checked the reader on the side of his blaster, perhaps checking to see how much he had left in its power pack—he had to be close to exhausting his ammo. Mara saw it on his face. And she grinned. “It’s over,” she said.

The Zabrak nodded. “Yes. I know.” He seemed at peace with that. Then he did something that deeply rattled her. He grinned back at her. “But at least I know neither of us are leaving this place alive.”

“What do you mean?” Mara glanced around, looking for any sign of the trap. She heard the low whining again…

“Ageless,” said the Inquisitor coolly. “Perhaps you haven’t guessed it yet, but we know each other. I gave you your orders this last year. I’ve been in your ear all this time.” He smiled. “I’ve long wished to meet you in person. The last of the great Kingdom assets.”

The Zabrak tilted his head quizzically. “Ether?”

Mara didn’t know what was going on here, and she didn’t care. She only cared that her enemy’s focus was momentarily on the Inquisitor.

Ether nodded slowly. “Lay down your weapon. Put all this rebelliousness aside. We can salvage this. You need only tell us where the Rebels are that turned you away from the Empire—”

“You kriffing idiot!” the Zabrak snapped back. “No one turned me! You damned fools think there’s only two sides in the galaxy? Everything with you morons is binary! Imperial or Rebel, the Light or the Dark Side, night or day. You forget all that’s in between. Dusk. Dawn. Magick. Independence.” He snorted derisively. “I’m guessing neither of you have thought like that in quite some time. Too indoctrinated to even consider it.”

While the Zabrak was focused on Ether, Mara took one step towards him, positioning herself. Distantly, she heard the clicking, and that same distant whine…Why does that sound so familiar? The Dark Side was screaming at her. The Dark Voice was now shouting something, though from very far away, telling her to get out: Get out! Now! Get out now! Before he ruins everything—

“Where did you receive this power, Ageless?” asked Ether. “Your instruction in the Force. This fighting style. And this…sorcery.”

“Some of it is old. Some of it is new, which I cooked up on my own.” He glared over at Ether and Mara took another careful step forward. “There is still more to learn, Ether. More about the Force than you can possibly imagine—”

Mara saw her opening. The Dark Side told her to strike now. She was poised. Feeling cold hatred roiling like dark clouds within her, she prepared to strike.

Then, suddenly, there came a sensation in the Force, a strong surge of power coming from directly behind her…

And all at once, Mara knew what that high-pitched whine had been all along. She knew. And she suddenly realized the trap their enemy had set, though she didn’t know how.

Mara had just opened her mouth to warn Ether, when something happening thousands of light-years away caused her to go mad.

* * *

THE DEATH STAR

IN THE EMPEROR’S THRONE ROOM

ABOVE THE FOREST MOON OF ENDOR

“If you will not be turned,” said the Emperor, slowly lifting his fingers. And Luke felt cold dread as he sensed dark forces rallying against him. “You will be destroyed!”

When arcs of blue lighting flashed from the Emperor’s hands, Luke had not been prepared. He felt the wind sucked out of him, felt himself drained beyond all belief, his legs turning to water and the Light itself abandoning him. By the stars, what was this?! Neither Obi-Wan nor Yoda had prepared him for such agony! Luke would’ve fallen over the railing and into the pit if he hadn’t grabbed hold of a generator cell at the last—

“Young fool,” the Emperor said, as if lamenting. “Only now, at the end, do you understand.”

Another jolt of electricity, and Luke felt his whole body seize, every capillary in him infected by a draining disease, even as the lightning reached into the marrow of his bones and threatened to break everything. In the corner of his eye, through foggy vision, he saw Vader struggling back to his feet.

And then another wave of pain wracked him. Luke held on to the generator cell for dear life, staring down into the impossibly deep pit below him.

“Your feeble skills are no match for the power of the Dark Side,” the Emperor said.

Another blast. He screamed, and fell to the floor, numb to all feeling but emotional torment and gut-wrenching pain. And suddenly, Luke believed him. There was no match for this level of power. Yoda had been wrong. Yoda had lied. On Dagobah, Luke had asked Yoda if the Dark Side was stronger, and Yoda had said no, that it was only easier, more seductive. But Yoda was wrong. Despair overtook Luke, and he melted to the floor, never so certain in all his life that he lacked the power to overcome something.

“You have paid the price for your lack of vision,” the Emperor spat, and hit him with an even more powerful blast than before.

The agony was such that Luke was certain he ought to be passing out, and yet he couldn’t. He sensed that that was the Dark Side, taunting him, keeping him awake to sense all this pain. Luke writhed on the floor, desperate, his mind reaching for any way out, any way at all—

He saw the dark figure looming beside the Emperor. Vader had come up alongside his master, and stood there looking down on Luke.

Like a man drowning in the ocean and seeing a life raft, Luke went for it: “Father! Please!” Another jolt of cold pain shot through his body in undulating waves. “Help meeeeeeee!”

The agony seemed to go on forever. Every second seemed drawn out like the lifespan of a star, or the lifespan of the universe. His mind went down a spiraling maw of darkness, the pain was all he knew, all he would ever know.

And then, suddenly, it stopped.

He felt weak beyond all belief, and stared out through the smoke roiling off his own body. He convulsed, nauseated, numb, seeking the Light—

And he stretched out to it. Stretched out to his father.

“Now, young Skywalker,” the Emperor said, a grin forming on his face. “You will die.” He said it with relish, and all at once a new level of pain crashed into Luke, as arcs of blue lightning consumed him.

The tumult in him built. And built. Luke sought the Light. The Dark Side crashed every cell in his skull, delighting in his agony. But Luke sought the Light. He tried to climb up through it, inventing mental techniques on the fly, reaching out to the ember of love and compassion he felt in the room—the ember coming from Vader, from somewhere deep within that black armor. Luke sought the Light! He nudged it. Tried to pull out what he’d felt in Cloud City, what he’d felt even here in his duel against Vader.

The Emperor’s power intensified, and Luke felt his lungs constrict to the point he could no longer breathe, could no longer scream.

But Luke sought the Light.

The Emperor was grinning savagely, leaning into his hatred. Leaning so far into his own malice that he didn’t see the sneak attack from his side, from all around.

Behold the Light!

All at once, hope sprang from somewhere, a power that leapt up from the past, the revenge of a Sith, the return of a Jedi, all coalescing into one, like a tide crashing against cliffs that had been waiting to crumble. And a black glove shot out from Vader, and, before Luke had even sensed it happening, before the Emperor himself had even known it was possible, the dark apprentice had grabbed hold of the master’s robe.

The pain in Luke’s body ceased.

He looked around, saw the Emperor screaming. Not in pain, but in confoundment at the treachery. Wretched, dream-stealing treachery. Lightning still shot from his fingertips, engulfing Vader, sending out sparks from the latter’s suit of armor. Vader lifted his dark tormentor, the man who had warped his mind and stolen his love and fate from him, he raised him over his head and carried him over to the very railing from which Luke had been previously clinging.

Anakin Skywalker flung the Sith Lord over the side, while sparks still shot from his suit. Luke heard the Emperor’s infernal screams as he plummeted. Farther and farther. Then, there came an explosion of dark energy that came up in waves of blue and purple light, crashing into Anakin as he leaned against the railing, staring down at his defeated enemy.

The Sith Lord, defeated nearly three decades too late, but defeated nonetheless.

Luke felt the Light gathering to him. He felt the Force again. He rolled over, crawled to his father, and pulled him away from the precipice, into which Luke sensed the man had been staring, perhaps contemplating throwing himself down there. He held his father in his arms, and felt something few Jedi had been permitted to feel in countless generations.

Love.

* * *

OSSUS

BENEATH MOUNT GUJAHHL

Kill Luke Skywalker! came the Emperor’s voice into her mind.

Mara screamed, feeling her brain pierced by an icicle. She collapsed to her knees, dropping her lightsaber, which switched itself off immediately, and clawed at her skull. She tumbled to the ground, gripping her face, hearing the Emperor’s last command over and over in her mind: Kill Luke Skywalker! It smashed against the corners of her mind and sent away the Dark Voice. Kill Luke Skywalker! The Emperor’s voice was riddled with such intense hate that it banished all other thoughts from her mind, and she suddenly forgot where she was—

Kill Luke Skywalker!

—she was tumbling down a large open shaft, looking back at up at Darth Vader, who had flung her into the pit—

Kill Luke Skywalker!

—but then Vader’s mask shifted, and in its place was Luke Skywalker, grinning savagely down at the murdered Emperor. Then she saw Luke Skywalker writhing on the ground, the Emperor electrocuting him with arcs of lightning—

Kill Luke Skywalker!

—she saw Luke standing over the Emperor, laughing madly as he cruelly beat the old man senseless—

Kill him! Kill Luke Skywalker!

It was all she could see or hear, the Emperor’s death happening over and over inside her. She felt his fear, his hatred, his shock at having his Empire unraveled by a menacing youth—by a Jedi Knight, all of whom he thought he’d made extinct!

Soon, she blacked out.

But even through the darkness of her mind she heard the Emperor’s voice, echoing as though in a cave: Kill Luke Skywalker!

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

* * *

ABOARD THE GOZANTI-CLASS STARSHIP EMPEROR’S MIGHT

LOCATION: IN ORBIT ABOVE OSSUS (POLAR ORBIT)

ROLE: RECONNAISSANCE

CURRENT MISSION: MONITORING & PROTECTING EXCAVATION SITE “TRIDENT-17Δ.778-Σ”

Moff Inrammen did not understand the orders in his hand. They had been given to him by Captain Viheer, who had just stormed into his quarters without permission, and without even calling first. Viheer now stood before him at attention, her hands clasped behind her back, forehead sweating, eyes intense and…fearful?

Inrammen held up the piece of flimsiplast. “What is this?”

“The Tantiss Initiative,” she said sharply.

“And what is the Tantiss Initiative?”

“Sir…I don’t know exactly, but it seems dire. I have only ever heard it called the ‘Contingency.’”

“And what is the Contingency, Captain?” Inrammen demanded, rising from his desk, where he’d been seated, writing in his diary when she barged in. “And why have you stormed in here without—”

“My apologies, Moff Inrammen, but the Contingency is…it appears it was devised by the Emperor himself. All captains of all starships are given state secrets, most of which are never to be opened…or are only opened ‘in the most dire of circumstances.’” She let that sit with him for a moment, then added, “Most of them are destroyed, never having to come to fruition, but I’ve just received a communiqué from Alpha Source—that is the codename for a top-secret subspace hyper-buoy, which allows us near-instant communication with Coruscant, who in turn can communicate with the Executor anywhere in the galaxy—”

“What?! That’s impossible! How have I never heard of such an advanced—?”

“Top secret, as I said, sir. As is the communiqué in your hand. As is the Contingency.”

“You still have not answered what this Contingency is?”

“Read it.”

“I’ve read it! It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Read it again. Carefully. Sir,” she added, a bit heatedly.

Slowly, Moff Inrammen let his eyes drift back down to the flimsi in his hand. The piece of flimsi he’d been avoiding since she handed it to him. In truth, he’d only read the first few lines—ATTENTION ALL SECTOR MOFFS AND GRAND ADMIRALS—THE CONTINGENCY IS NOW IN EFFECT. THIS MESSAGE IS TO BEGIN CAREFUL STEPS OF MOVING ALL FLEETS OUTSIDE OF THE CORE WORLDS TO THE UNKNOWN REGIONS. REPEAT: ALL FLEETS OUTSIDE OF THE CORE WORLDS ARE TO MOVE IMMEDIATELY TO THE UNKNOWN REGIONS, TO THE FOLLOWING KNOWN WORLDS.

It gave a list of galactic coordinates. Inrammen sat down slowly, his legs giving out a little. He read on:

THE CONTINGENCY, WHICH WAS DRAWN UP IN THE UNLIKELY EVENT OF THE EMPEROR’S DEATH, OR EVEN HIS SUSPECTED DEATH, IS NOW IN EFFECT. BELOW IS AN ITINERARY FOR REGROUPING AND REFORMING THE EMPIRE IN EARNEST, WITH EACH MOFF, ADMIRAL, GRAND ADMIRAL, AND CAPTAIN ASSIGNED TO HYPERLANE WAY STATIONS, CREATING A DEFENSIVE WALL, HENCEFORTH REFERRED IN THIS DOCUMENT AS “THE BULWARK”…

He read on. The document continued outlining secret paths charted through the Unknown Regions, with specific instructions for following the Contingency further, promising that there were codes buried deep, deep within each Imperial ship’s main computer, and that new “packets” of orders from the dead Emperor would be revealed to them as they retreated.

Retreated.

Retreated?

Retreated!

The word didn’t sound right in his head. “Something must be wrong,” he whispered. “There’s been an error or—”

“There hasn’t, sir, respectfully,” said Captain Viheer. “This came via Alpha Source, and has been confirmed by our encryption specialists. It came from Coruscant, and via a system of only a few subspace buoys in existence. They gave scant details, but security cams near the Emperor, who was apparently at Endor on some secret inspection, has been killed. Apparently…at the hands of a person wielding a lightsaber. Some stories conflict, but…”

Moff Inrammen looked up at her sharply. A lightsaber. The Rebel “hero” Luke Skywalker was known to carry one of those around. Rumors were that he fancied himself an adherent to the old Jedi religion. “This is all bantha poodoo!”

“Sir, the message from Coruscant and from Endor is real—”

“Then the Rebels have hacked these buoys and tricked you! It’s a psy-op, designed to deceive and cause panic amongst our ranks!”

“The Empire’s best engineers only just cooked up these new hyper-buoys a year ago and put them in place, no one outside of a select few captains even know they exist, and their encryption is so complex that a hundred slicer droids couldn’t infiltrate them. Sir,” she said, stepping closer, “this is real-world. Not a drill, not a training run.”

“Then there’s something wrong with the encryption! There must be!” He blinked. “Wait…you mentioned Endor.”

She hesitated. “Another communiqué came via Alpha Source. Something has transpired on Endor.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Sir, I’m afraid…it seems the project there…it has been destroyed.”

Again.

Again!

That word rang even more bitterly. The Rebels managed to destroy a Death Star for the second time? No. Not impossible.

Endor, he thought. Endor. Where I should’ve been. I helped gather those kyber crystals. I helped the construction begin, helped design the security details for the entire project, to make sure the Rebels didn’t find out what we were building there.

From a trillion parsecs away, Captain Viheer was saying his name over and over. “Moff Inrammen? Moff Inrammen, sir?”

“Yes…yes, um…”

“We have our orders, sir.”

Inrammen stood up. When he’d woke up that morning, there had still been an Empire. Now he was being told that it had somehow vanished, been stripped away, like the memory of a dream. He shook his head. “What do we do?”

“If you read further down the message, it will tell you. Certain fleets will remain behind to guard key Core Worlds and systems, such as Coruscant and the Corellian system. They will remain to gauge the temperature of the people, see if there are enough sympathizers to cause a revolt, or if the people will remain loyal to the Empire. If those ships can maintain order in the wake of such a…defeat,” she seemed to force out the word, “then we may have orders to return. But right now, the majority of us must pull back to regroup.”

“To the Unknown Regions? I—I don’t understand.”

Captain Viheer stepped forward, and put a hand on Inrammen’s shoulder. “Sir,” she said, softly yet resolutely. “We have to move quickly if we are to save the Empire. If we are to save her, we need your leadership.”

He blinked. “But…but that would mean abandoning the project here.”

“We will recall everyone at once.”

“Yes…yes, recall them. Recall them all.” He was sweating now, and pacing, hands shaking. “All our troopers. If any of the geological survey team cannot get on a ship in the next thirty minutes, we leave them behind.”

“What about Jade?” she said. “And Ether?”

“Eh?” In his shock and panic, Inrammen had nearly forgotten about them. He waved a dismissive hand. “They both found their own way out here, they have their own ships. If they aren’t with us in thirty minutes when we leave, then they can find their own way back out of this patch of space.” Inrammen turned to face his quarters, still unsure he wasn’t dreaming. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get dressed. And prepare myself to make the announcement over comms.”

“You’ll do the announcement, sir?”

“Yes,” he said. “I think I should. You’re right, the people will need a leader right now. A calm voice in this moment of tragedy and panic.”

* * *

FLYING LOW OVER THE K’TUZIAN STRETCH

The Dathomirian Curse weaved through the narrow canyon pass, its starboard side facing down. Through the viewport, Kevv stared at a slanted landscape. The Curse was on fire, he could smell the smoke, though the ship’s auto-extinguishers and interstitial safety foam tried putting it out. Two of the missiles had followed him into the pass, and when the canyon walls split up ahead, he banked sharply to the east, hard enough that one of the missiles smashed into the canyon wall and exploded.

But the other one was right behind it, slicing through the explosive fireball of the first missile and homing in on the Curse.

The passage tightened, the walls closed in. Two or three times, the Curse came so close to the canyon walls that it shaved off pieces of the ship. Smoke flowed into the cockpit and he started coughing on it again. The air-recyclers tried filtering it out, but they were already overworked. “Hang in there, Kevv,” he muttered between coughs. “Just hang in—”

The passage abruptly ended.

“Dank ferrik!” he cried, and pulled up hard, straining the engines and exiting the relative safety of the canyon pass.

Below him, the missile couldn’t make the turn, which was a blessing, because when it tried following him it struck a basalt pillar and exploded. But Kevv’s momentary joy was extinguished when he heard the sound of multiple paint signals. He was being targeted. The trouble-board was alive with systems failing all across the ship. He tried zigging and zagging, he tried spinning, he jinked and dived and pulled up, anything to shake the TIE he knew was coming up behind him—

And then, his heart sank. A chime had just sounded, warning of more incoming. At least one ship, closing in fast. Behind him, the TIE fired another missile. The incoming mystery craft also fired a missile. Kevv saw them both converging on him. He closed his eyes.

“Sorry, guys. I’m sorry.”

He heard the explosion…yet it sounded far behind him. He opened his eyes, looking around in confusion. He glanced at his center vidscreen, at the camfeed coming from his dorsal camera. Directly behind him, the enemy TIE came slashing through a cloud of smoke and fire. One of the missiles had intercepted the other, and destroyed it. And then, directly above him, came the familiar crescent-moon shape of a friendly craft.

“Sorry for our tardiness,” came a prim and proper voice over comms. “But we had to double-back to lose a patrol that was—”

“Threepio?” he shouted over comms.

“Master Kevv? Is that you? Where are the others?”

“They’re, uh—I don’t know exactly where they are! But we need to get out of here! Fast!” Even as Kevv answered, he watched the Lady of Hope Ascendant’s guns open fire on the last TIE, slicing its already scorched wing and forcing it to bank away hard. Seeing as it was injured and now outnumbered, her pilot seemed to think a strategic retreat was in order, and flew away trailing smoke. “We need to leave now!”

“But, sir, our mission was to—”

“If we don’t leave right now, Threepio, we’re all going to die or wind up in an Imperial prison!” He was flipping switches, dousing fires, cycling down thrusters so that he could use the spare power to cool down overheated systems. “My ship’s on fire and I don’t know if she can even make it to orbit, much less survive a jump to lightspeed—”

“With all due respect, sir, Arfour and I have long served the Rebel Alliance—”

“Okay, but—”

“—and we did so proudly and with great honor—”

“Threepio—”

“—and they sent Mistress Namyr and yourself here on a very important mission—”

“—I don’t have time for—”

“—and we’ve been traveling with Master Ageless all this time on a similar errand. To undo the Galactic Empire—”

“And we can do that another time if we have to! Ever heard the expression ‘Live to fight another day?’ We are severely outnumbered here and now the Empire’s aware of our presence—”

“Perhaps not for long, seeing as how things are turning out on Endor.”

Kevv waved smoke out of his face, and sat for a moment in confusion. “What do you mean? What’s happening on Endor?”

“You mean you don’t know? Oh, of course you wouldn’t know! I forget that you’ve been comms-silent for much of your time out here, trying to remain under the radar, as it were. But Arfour and I have been occasionally listening to Imperial radio chatter. I understand that it goes against Master Ageless’s protocols he set forth for Arfour and I, to remain comms-silent, but we were wondering if they had perhaps captured you or—”

“What is going on at Endor?” Kevv and Namyr had been there only months ago, and they’d known something big was going on out there, and had reported as much to Alliance leadership. What had they missed?

“I’m not exactly sure, sir,” Threepio went on. “I’m not even certain how the Imperials know what’s going on. Apparently, they have some emergency subspace buoys, very powerful, only meant to be activated during the most dire needs. We overheard chatter to this effect coming from the Imperial capital ship currently in orbit. They’ve just been notified of ‘a catastrophic failure of Base Two Operation,’ whatever that means, and that there has been a ‘massive decapitation strike at Endor.’ They’ve been given orders by someone to pull out of Ossus completely.”

Decapitation strike, he thought. A massive one. Could it be…? No. Don’t get your hopes up, Kevv. The Rebels are ambitious, but there’s no way they could have found a way to kill Imperial leadership that senior.

Or could they?

“We still need to get clear of this place,” he said.

“But, sir, the Imperials are leaving. They’re pulling out of Ossus altogether.”

Kevv had to think about it. Yes, the droid did have a point there. Assuming R-3PO wasn’t lying or had misheard the Imperials’ radio chatter, it did seem like a window of opportunity might be opening here.

“All right, but I still need to set down somewhere. I need to find a plateau or something. Someplace flat and safe, so I can switch off these engines and make sure the Curse’s core doesn’t have a meltdown.”

“We can escort you to just such a plateau, we saw it on the flight over. Just follow my course, sir.”

“Okay, great. Oh, and Threepio?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thanks for the save.”

“Of course, sir. And, sir? Are you getting that strange comm bounce, as well? It seems familiar to me. Like one of the old Rebel duress codes. It’s an older code, sir, but Arfour is assuring me it still checks out.”

“Rebel duress…?” Hope leapt to his chest, and Kevv quickly checked his ship’s transceiver/receiver. Nothing. Then he checked his commlink, and he started laughing. “Miracles never cease, boys! That’s the code Namyr and I use whenever we had to split up. That’s her! She’s signaling us.” He tried listening to it. Nothing but static. “She’s close but still out of range. Blast!”

“Do you want us to zero in on her signal, sir?”

“Yes, Threepio!” Kevv laughed, coughing and waving smoke from his face. “Yes, dank ferrik, yes! Zero in on that winner! I—” His celebration ended suddenly, when he heard the warning chime. A single bogey, incoming. He didn’t even have to look at the silhouette indicator to know what it was. The TIE had returned. Dogged, unrelenting, like a kath hound with a bone. All its people were leaving Ossus, but it had a score to settle. A score with Kevv.

“You’d better strap yourself in, Threepio. And let’s hope Namyr has Ageless with her, because this is going to be a hot exit.”

* * *

BENEATH MOUNT GUJAHHL

Ageless gazed back at the red-headed woman on the floor. She was barely moving now, foaming at the mouth, mumbling to herself. At first, he thought this might be some sort of trick, some sort of distraction, and then he thought it might be a trick from the entity behind the Dark Voice. But then he saw how Ether’s face had gone cold and inquisitive. He’s not sure what’s going on, either.

And yet, they had both felt it. Ageless was sure of it. A massive disturbance in the Force, like a breaking, and for some reason the woman was more susceptible to it than they both were.

“So,” Ageless said, facing his old handler. “You’re an Inquisitor.”

“Was,” Ether said, circling him. One red-glowing end of his double-sided lightsaber pointed directly at Ageless’s eyes. A swordmaster’s trick, meant to confuse one’s depth perception of the blade, making it hard to know how close its tip really was. “Am. Will be again perhaps.” Ether shrugged, and stared at him with those cold blue eyes. “Or perhaps never again. Do names really matter? Titles? ‘Ageless Void.’ Did it ever really mean anything? Codenames. Words. Cognomens designed to make us think we mattered.”

“Now who’s the misanthrope? You sound like a nonbeliever now. Have you also lost your faith in the Empire?”

“My faith has only shifted in its priorities.”

“When did that happen? Before or after the Faith-index was revealed to you?” Ageless smiled. “When Zumter and the others realized that the index had predicted the Empire’s collapse, did you panic? Did the Emperor panic?”

“The Emperor was not one to panic. Especially since it was his index all along. His to help manipulate the people.”

“How do you mean?”

The man smiled through his fading blond beard. “You fool. You really haven’t figured it out, have you?”

“Figured what out?”

“The true source of the Faith-index.”

“Enlighten me.”

Both of Ether’s legs were cybernetic replacements, and they clicked on the floor as he circled Ageless. Sparing only a glance at the woman on the ground, he said, “The Faith-index is a complex algorithm, a formula developed first by Muuns, or so they say. The InterGalactic Banking Clan. Its origins extend far, far into the past. I’ve done my research. Lord Vader has never known, nor the Emperor himself—but I did my research. I had started to think you had done the same research, seeing how deeply you investigated Zumter and the others around that time.” He smiled again. “It was you, wasn’t it? It was you helping the Rebels snatch up the remaining Kingdom leadership, turning them. We uncovered a few of them. You did good work, Ageless. You always do.”

Ageless said nothing for a while, only watched the Inquisitor. Finally, he said, “You were saying? About the IGBC’s connection with the Faith-index?”

“When the Emperor was a young man, long before he ever had any ambitions to be a senator or politician of any kind, he was known to be seen about with a Muun. That Muun, some said, was like a mentor to him. Then, one day, that Muun was never seen again. Which was strange, because that Muun was someone important—his name was Hego Damask II, named after an uncle or something, and he was born the son of Caar Damask, an important Muun on Mygeeto. So it’s strange that this Muun, Palpatine’s former mentor and suitably rich and connected friend, should suddenly vanish from public life.”

A ripple in the Force. Ageless felt it. He checked his blaster pistol again. The power pack was nearly empty, only two shots left. He had to make them count. He maneuvered closer to the collapsed wall. Keep him talking. “Why do I care about a long dead Muun?”

“Because that Muun was very likely Sheev Palpatine’s Sith Master.” Ether smiled at Ageless’s confusion. “You already worked it out, didn’t you? That Palpatine has been living a secret life? Or you at least suspected it. I can sense that in you now. Just as we can both sense he’s dead now, or very close to it. That’s what this sensation is we’re feeling. That’s what she is feeling.” He pointed at the unconscious woman lying on the ground.

Ageless betrayed nothing, and tried to keep his emotions in check and concealed by using the mind-clearing techniques Yoda had shown him. “And what has Hego Damask got to do with the Faith-index?”

“Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything. I mean, come on, Ageless, think now. The IGBC develops the Faith-index, a predictor of which way the galaxy’s future will go using super-complex algorithms and colossal, data-farming tools to gauge public sentiment, and it happens to be reported exclusively to Emperor Palpatine? Secretly? And the department of the IGBC responsible for developing the Faith-index was the Grand Treasury, which just so happened to have the project brought to them originally by Damask Foreign Investment, later renamed Damask Holdings, owned and operated by Hego Damask II?” He smiled, “Oh, did I forget to mention that part?”

Ageless shrugged. “I imagine the Faith-index would have been valuable to any despot or would-be dictator.”

“But Palpatine’s former mentor just so happened to belong to the family line that originally developed it?” Ether smiled again. “I imagine it happened this way. Some ancient Sith began developing such an algorithm, using Damask Foreign Investment, but kept an eye on the Damask family line, eventually seeing potential in Hego Damask II, raising him up to become a Sith himself, who then went on to train Palpatine and pass on the Faith-index. I believe that, in conjunction with a Sith’s power of prognostication, the Faith-index was the ultimate prophecy-maker, and Palpatine could use it to foresee future problems, and could take strides to avoid them.”

Ageless shook his head. Keep him talking. “But you can’t know all this. These are all coincidences. You have no proof.”

“No proof. Just a paper trail.” He added, “And a recording.”

“What recording?”

“A recording of a conversation between Palpatine and a young Jedi Knight, when both of them were at an opera house on Coruscant and thought they were alone, within a sound-dampening field. A recording made quite by accident, by a CIS spy who had bugged Palpatine’s seat that night at the opera house. The spy was a servant of General Grievous. That spy is long dead, killed some years later with this seemingly benign recording in his possession. But that recording fell into my hands years ago.”

“And what did Palpatine and this Jedi talk about?”

“A few minor pleasantries, discussions about the evening, the performances of the actors, advice given from the old man to the young Jedi. And one very interesting tidbit.” Ether’s smile took on a new, curious facet. “Tell me, Ageless, have you ever heard the tale of Darth Plagueis the Wise?”