The Righteous, a long, black HWK-295Ex modified freighter, broke through the heavy gray cloud cover over Dagobah. Three Y-wings followed behind the Righteous as she dropped fast, then tore across the trees in a rippling wave of green. The Righteous was not a proper troop dropship, but was made for comfortably transporting important representatives of the New Republic. It was fitted with one rotating heavy blaster hanging from its left wing, but otherwise required a fighter escort.

Thinking that perhaps the supply ship was coming early, a group of rough-looking Rodians and humans gathered before the hill of scrap and watched the approaching ships. But as the ships sped nearer, the Rodians began clicking in alarm, then the humans realized something was amiss, and soon all the scavengers ran for the woods.

The Righteous slowed to a hover, then descended into the clearing while the three Y-wings roared overhead. The fighters circled the area, on the lookout for trouble.

Luke sat on a girder at the foot of the scrap pile, watching the boarding ramp descend from the black ship. The ship's heavy blaster turned toward him, and though he could not see the gunner, he felt the gunner's attention on him. He felt a twinge of fear at the sight of the gun, and was surprised, for he had disengaged from any attachment to his own life long ago; he knew that if the gunner fired and tore him in half, life would go on much as it ever had. He put his hands together and focused on his breathing.

Eight Cheka riflemen in blue uniforms marched down the boarding ramp, the heavy clatter of their boots turning into wet smacking sounds as they entered the mud bowl. Unlike most Cheka, these soldiers wore bright blue plastoid breastplates and helmets, all uniquely modified to accommodate the shapes of the diverse alien unit. One big Devaronian had horns jutting through his helmet, a Dressellian wore a helmet with two rounded plates to protect his butt-shaped cranium, and one Kubaz in the rear of the line had a helmet with what looked like a long, oversized sex toy jutting out of it, which was designed to protect his formidable nose. Luke returned their gaze and watched them fan out, and while he could not sense hatred, he was overwhelmed by the feeling that the Cheka not only wanted to shoot him, but each wanted to be the first to shoot him. It was not hatred, but a sort of predatory curiosity, and a deep desire for acknowledgment of superiority. He pushed the disturbing sensation from his mind.

The eight Cheka parted as a humanoid figure in a shining pink robe and a white cloak descended the ramp. Though Luke could not help but notice an effeminate swaying of the hips, there was an undeniably masculine, assertive set to the person's shoulders. More importantly, he felt the Force radiating from the strange character; though this was obviously no mere Padawan, there was something confusing about the aura. Not quite Jedi, and not quite Sith.

As the Force user approached, Luke was surprised by his face. Though he had handsome hazel eyes and smooth human skin, his cheeks and jaw were like that of an Aqualish, making it look as if an ass was growing from his face. Worse still, his mouth was squished between his cheeks, turning his lips into a permanently-puckered asshole. Luke felt no prejudice toward any alien, but the man's strange appearance filled Luke with an unexpected mixture of pity and revulsion.

The pink-clad Force user was a hybrid, a cross between a human and an alien.

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"Check that ship!" the hybrid barked, gesturing toward Vasili's freighter. His voice struck a balance between gravelly and high-pitched. "You see anyone in there, shoot 'em!"

The hybrid stopped before Luke, then put his hands on his hips. "You're Luke Skywalker," he said.

Luke nodded. "Why do you look like that?" he said.

"Because I'm the future," said the hybrid. Luke sensed overwhelming confidence, as if the speaker knew, for an absolute fact, that he spoke the unadulterated truth. "I'd like to say that it's an honor to meet you," he added. "My name is Lucitor Reo. I'm here to take you away from this place."

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"Lucitor? Is that a title?" said Luke. "Are you one of the Stralucitor?"

"Correct." Lucitor Reo threw his head back. Though Luke found the gesture a bit absurd, he sensed that Reo was experiencing an intoxicating high from the feeling of being right.

"Are you going to take me to Empress Organa?"

"I'm here to take you away from this place," Reo repeated.

Luke nodded slowly. "So Leia convinced you not to kill me, but you won't let me stay here, either."

Reo smirked, the ass of his face clenching awkwardly. "Don't make the mistake of imagining that we came here to play games, Luke."

Interrupted by the hissing vocalizers of Cheka helmets, Luke and Reo turned as the horned Devaronian exited Vasili's freighter with several teammates. "Ship's empty, Lucitor," said the Devaronian. "Nobody home."

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Lucitor Reo fixed Luke with a frigid gaze. "Where are your friends?"

"I have friends?" said Luke.

"You know what I mean. Where are the people trying to take you off Dagobah?"

"Didn't you come here to take me off Dagobah...?"

Reo sighed, his fingers curling into fists. Luke was surprised that someone trained in the ways of the Force would be so quick to show frustration.

"Are you a Sith?" said Luke. "I don't feel the dark side in you."

"Of course I'm not a Sith!" Reo spat. "I'm a Jedi. Empress Organa trained me in the ways of the Force."

"No, she did not," said Luke, shaking his head. "I only taught her the basics before she turned away from the Force. She said she wanted to focus on practical matters. And there's also your outfit."

Reo looked Luke up and down, sneering at his faded, patched-up black robe. He lifted one white-gloved hand, then laid it against the silken collar of his pink robe. "You're judging my fashion sense?" said the Lucitor. "This is really too much."

Luke frowned, seemingly perturbed for the first time during their conversation. "Your clothes are too flamboyant, and pretentious. It's the sort of thing worn by someone who wants to stand out and be important. A Jedi does not crave those things. Please, tell me who trained you."

"That's quite enough," said Reo, snapping his fingers and gesturing impatiently for Luke to stand. "I'm not here to be interrogated by some has-been. I'll not allow you to be used by insurgents who want to embarrass the Empress, or put our great work in jeopardy. Now, come along!"

In the heavy silence, the Cheka gathered together and stared at Luke. He could feel the menace radiating from them, their excitement growing as he sat unmoving. The horned Devaronian's shoulders lifted as he inhaled. Luke felt as if he was standing at the edge of a precipice.

"If you aren't taking me to my sister," said Luke, "then I don't wish to leave."

Luke turned away as if done with the conversation. He suddenly felt a wave of unrestrained rage burning through the Lucitor's aura only a split-second before the Lucitor flung aside his brilliant white cape, grabbed something from his belt, then activated a golden lightsaber. Lucitor Reo shook with anger, the ass of his face burning bright red as the humming lightsaber gleamed like a shard of the sun.

"Do not underestimate me," Reo growled. "I'm sure you've guessed that I don't have leave to kill you. The Empress would never allow it. But she knows that she - and her whole damned species! - owes a debt to the nonhuman population for your history of violence. Maybe I can't kill you, but I've been given permission to cut off your limbs and drag you with us if you won't come willingly!"

"Really?" said Luke. "Well then, you'd better start cutting!"

Feeling the unexpected joy of finally leaping over the brink, Luke stood and walked straight toward the Lucitor. He could not help but smile as Reo's puckered lips formed into a perfect oval of confusion. As Luke approached, Reo took a quick step backwards.

"Ever fought a Jedi before?" said Luke. Spreading his arms wide, he added, "Unfortunately, I've forgotten my lightsaber!"

Even as attuned as his Jedi senses were, Lucitor Reo's shrieking assault nearly caught him by surprise. As the humming lightsaber flashed downward toward his right arm, Luke stumbled directly into the path of the deadly beam of light - then fell over as it struck him.

Lucitor Reo glared at the fallen Jedi master lying in the mud. He opened his mouth, then shut it, then swallowed, then opened it again.

"Did you just kill him?" said one of the Cheka.

"No, I didn't!" he responded without thinking. Lucitor Reo's heart hammered in his chest as he stared at the corpse lying in the mud. He hoped that this was only a dream. He stared at the Jedi Master's limp arms, his face lying in the mud. Taking a deep breath through his puffy cheeks, Lucitor Reo admitted to himself that he had just killed the Empress's brother.