Sons of Time

1999/2000 story by Louis Turfrey and Mark Newbold

Three years after Episode IV – A New Hope

PROLOGUE

The wind blew cold on Janos.

The stranger shivered as the two old men walked towards him, their dark cloaks billowing in the brisk desert breeze, a stark contrast to the strangers silver spacecraft. One of them reached beneath his tunic, briefly giving the stranger a view of a vague but familiar cylindrical object attached to his belt. He pulled out a jewelled casket.

   "I hope you understand the significance of what it is that we are entrusting to you." The old mans voice was strong and menacing. The stranger shivered, again despite himself. As he spoke, his voice betrayed his comparative youth.

   "I do. This box must be guarded night and day by those who are pure of heart and strong in the Force. Those who fail will succumb to the darkness."

The ritual answer seemed to satisfy the two old men, who visibly relaxed. The second elder spoke.

   "With the authority invested in me by the ruling council of the Jedi and with the permission of Emperor Priest Culdanatia the Third - I hereby transfer guardianship of the Holocron of the Sith. This Holocron has been guarded, on behalf of the Jedi, for nearly a thousand years. It has passed from race to race and each race has always fallen foul of its temptations. Guard it well, for if you should succumb to its power, your living soul will be forfeit for all eternity.”  He leaned forwards, his voice a gravely rasp.  “Worse, you will make an enemy of all Jedi."

They handed the box to the stranger, who nodded and placed it beneath his robes.

   "I will try to live up to your expectations." The stranger pulled back his hood revealing a noble, courtly visage, hair starting to show the first hints of grey at the edges of his temples. On hearing these words the two men started. They swiftly reached inside their tunics. The stranger spoke again.

   "Remember, there is no try, there is only do."

A lightsabre ignited, its twin red blades slicing across the men standing before him. There were no screams, no bodies. All that remained was the smell of singed flesh and a crumple of slightly burnt clothing. Powering down his lightsabre, the stranger picked up the two discarded weapons and walked up his ships ramp. Discarding his cloak in the cockpit he moved a hidden panel aside revealing a small-shielded box containing six other cylindrical shapes. He placed the lightsabres and the jewelled box into the compartment, carefully removing the boxes contents. Locking it, he exited the cockpit. 

   "So be it." He chuckled and moved into the rear compartment. The stranger placed the Holocron on top of a metre-high pedestal. A gesture with his wrist and a blue force field enveloped the ancient device.

   "I look forward to talking with you later, but first there are wheels that must be set in motion."

The stranger moved back into the cockpit, replacing his cloak across his shoulders and pulling forward the hood. He activated a communications device and seconds later a strange alien figure appeared on the Holo-display in front of him.

   "Viceroy, have you considered my proposal?" His voice was darker now, more sinister. The figure in front answered slowly, with measured caution.

   "Yes we have. We feel it would take far too long for your plans to provide us with any show of profit. I fear that we can not agree."

The stranger frowned beneath his hood, barely reaching out with his fingers. He brought two of them closer to his thumb. The figure on the screen began to choke, the breath cut off by his contracting windpipe.

   "Are you sure?" His voice betrayed no further emotion as the stranger lessened his grip on the Viceroy. The Viceroy fell forward on his knees, coughing loudly. Struggling to his feet he regained his composure and spoke again.

   "I will again consider your generous offer. I must say that a decade is a long time to wait for our investment to reach maturity. Are you sure the plan will work?" The Viceroy sounded fearful now.

The stranger smiled, despite himself.

   "Patience Viceroy, your days of being a slave to the taxation policies of the Republic will soon be at an end. When my plan comes full circle we will all bask in the glory of a new Galactic Empire!"

With that last phrase the communication was terminated.