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The
Creeping Fear 2004 short story by Mark Newbold Twenty years before Episode IV – A New Hope Ade-arr
B’erain sensed the entrance to the cavern long before he physically saw it
and tensed himself for action. The
skies of Salutarr had opened an hour before and his long black hair, braided
in a traditional Jedi style clung heavily to his shoulders like the air of
doom that surrounded him. B’erain had
tracked his quarry for hours, managing to stay one cautious step behind so he
could pinpoint their location and report back to the beleaguered Setnin Jedi
Council, but as the hunt had progressed he felt the shiver of uncertainty, as
if he was being led into a trap.
Deception rode side-by-side with the dark side of the Force, and he
knew the cold grip of its duplicity lay within its black glove, but if
nothing else B’erain was a man of curiosity, and the chill of dread he felt
was warily set aside as he pushed on. He
worked his way around the ridge and reached the opening to the cavern from
above, checking for enemy forces with a keen eye. The Confederacy of Independent Systems, the
union proposed by Count Dooku just prior to the Battle of Geonosis and the
eruption of the Clone Wars barely three years before had recruited thousands
of star systems, and the government of Salutarr was next in line to join
their cause. Dooku had made it crystal clear that Clonetroopers and
especially Jedi Knights were not welcome on CIS worlds, and with that in mind
B’erain ignited his lightsabre and Force jumped the twenty meters from the
ledge into the soft wet ground, flicking his eyes around the area and running
into the cover of the shadows. A
narrow corridor waited for him like an open mouth at the centre of the
cavern, as dark as a tomb and smelling dank and putrid like rotting
fruit. As he entered the inky
blackness of the stone carved path the darkness swallowed him whole, the only
illumination coming from the jade glow of the lightsabre that hummed in his
steady hand, held at arms length in front if him. B’erain tread cautiously
forward, measuring his steps and making mental notes on his location, his
eyes closed as he opened himself to the Force. In recent months he had felt his connection
to the Force diminish, as if a cancer was eating away at the very power that
gave him his uniqueness and special capabilities, but he didn’t know what was
causing it. Terrible visions of
confusing but horrific images plagued him, tormenting his dreams. He was well aware that the edges of the
dark side were gnawing away at him, encroaching upon his access to the Force,
and as the growing threat and battles of the Clone Wars had raged on for
almost three years he worried that perhaps the power of the dark side really was
taking control. But
for now B’erain had a mission to accomplish.
Small perhaps, in the grand scale of things, but Salutarr had become a
vital outpost for Republic forces in that part of the Setnin Sector and he
had been tasked with the charge of confirming or denying their presence, and
if need be inhibiting that enemy resource.
He opened his eyes as shapes and images coalesced into sense and
brought his sabre closer to him, adjusting his stance to a combat ready
position. In the dim light he could
make out the shapes of Battle Droids and S.T.A.P.S, Super Battle Droids,
Destroyer Droids and Trade Federation vehicles mixed with the powerful
equipment of the Techno Union. Now
B’erain had something concrete to take back to Benesk, where the Setnin
Jedi’s elite sat in council and conferred with Setnin’s fractured government
and the Jedi Council on the central Republic world of Coruscant. Undeniable proof of preparations to take
Salutarr under the flag of the Confederacy.
In
recent months Setnin had lost the magnetic vice of unity that had so marked
her out as a unique sector. When
A-desando had agreed to join the CIS a year ago it had begun a downward
spiral of events that had conspired to stretch the Jedi presence in the
sector, bring the military resistance to its knees and threatening to hand
over the entire region of space to the Separatists. And while Setnin as a whole had broken away
from the governing hand of the Republic prior to the Battle of Naboo over a
decade before, as a Jedi Knight B’erain hoped for the success of its
benevolent and guiding hand. But
here, in the dark depths of a Salutarr cavern, surrounded by the enemies war
machines he found little comfort in that thought. He
steeled himself and stepped forward out of the shadows, sabre gripped tight
in a battle stance. He could sense no
hidden tracking equipment or other beings close by, and he felt a cool rush
of calm descend over him as he made a closer inspection of the droids. Both standard and Super, as he
thought. He lightly moved around the
statuesque machines, both wary and in awe of their power. He had slain, if that was the right term,
many hundreds of them over the course of the Clone Wars, and during the
Battle of Salutarr, the last time he was on this world, he had engaged in
combat with many. He sincerely hoped
he would never have the displeasure of seeing one again. But he knew that was a false hope. Something
caught his eye in the far wall of the cavern and he carefully walked over,
lightly treading like a cat, and took a closer look. Inside a partially opened crate he could
see something glinting in the half-light, a droid of some kind. Gleaming white, almost three meters in
height and powerfully built with a thick black strip running where the eyes
should be with cannons instead of hands.
A chill ran up his spine as he looked in wonder at this behemoth of a
machine, and a glint of recognition registered in his eyes. Just
as the machine looked down at him. B’erain
took a huge step back and prepared for combat as the crate exploded in a
shard of splinters, the enormous droid kicking its way free and turning its
glare upon him. The black strip which
had previously seemed so dead now practically glowed with energy and the
cannons that were so inactive whirred as they loaded and locked onto their target. Ade-arr checked his surroundings and realised
he had a decision. Fight or flight.
And days like these were no time for the timid. The
droid moved fluidly like oil on water and B’erain was amazed at how swiftly
it covered the ground between them. It
lashed out a volley of bullets and laser blasts and he parried them all with
his emerald blade, rolling and leaping clear, using the Force to hurl boxes
and crates at the giant as he tucked and rolled. It smashed the obstacles away as if
swatting bugs and kept on coming, a low mechanical growl that sounded
distinctly wrong emanating from its voice box. B’erain continued to defend himself as he
made his way backwards to the corridor he had entered through, cursing his
curiosity for getting him into trouble again.
The cavern reminded him of his underground home on Nam Chorios in the
far away Meridian Sector, and for some reason he had a flicker of a thought for
his lost Padawan Shayy, but his sorrow was cut short as he crunched heavily
against the rough stone walls and, backed against it, saw a phalanx of metal
come to life in the form of Battle Droids and Super Battle Droids. And all of them flanking the huge droid
that was manoeuvring him around the cavern. And
then his flicker of recognition coalesced into a torrent of memory and his
eyes opened wide. “The Saluras Child.” He said out loud. The
massive droid paused, just for a moment, as if struggling against its actions
and looked directly at B’erain, and he swore that the growl turned briefly
into a whine. But only for a second,
and he found himself parrying a multitude of shots as he backed around the
wall back to the corridor, running backwards as fast as he could until he
reached a turning and a brief respite.
Closing his eyes he Force ran the remainder of the way back out into
the first cavern and the thunderous rains that fell like sheets from the
black skies above. B’erains
position was compromised, and more forces would soon be on their way, not all
of them mechanical. His new ETA-2 Jedi
Starfighter was more than twenty klicks away, and through this sodden wet
terrain it would take even a Jedi a significant amount of time to traverse
that distance, time he didn’t have. He
thought of his own teachings and wondered what Master Zeboden would do in
this situation, and steeled himself for the onslaught that would follow. Stood in the hammering rain, mud oozing
over his boots he did exactly what his master had taught him to do. He
opened himself to the Force. And in
that hazy, claustrophobic moment he sensed all the darkness, all the twisted
visions of his enemy and knew, conclusively, that he wasn’t the only Force
user on Salutarr. There
was another presence, somehow familiar and one who manipulated the dark side
of the Force, but he couldn’t seem to narrow his focus. When
B’erain opened his eyes he was surprised to find himself deflecting a barrage
of laser bolts and dodging devastating attacks from more droid forces, and
once again locked eyes with the huge white droid around which the attack was
centred, the Saluras Child. He
could barely believe it; this droid was millennia old and had passed into
legend through its association with a past ruler of Setnin, the heroic man
known only as Chatroot. Chatroot and
his followers the Howlrunners, a group consisting of planetary rulers, great
warriors and beings plucked from obscurity by Chatroot himself were the
sectors own true legends. Helping the
disenfranchised through the hard times of millennia’s ago, protecting the
weak, they were thought to be practically immortal and the history books
showed them appearing at sporadic intervals over a number of centuries. And this huge machine, the Saluras Child,
was a part of that and a hero in its own right. So how
it came to be on the side of the Separatists, fighting with all the evils it
had been programmed to defeat was a mystery to Ade-arr. Perhaps it was yet another mystery of the
Sith. He forced
himself back to the present and the predicament he was in. Even as an experienced Jedi Knight he knew
he would only be able to hold off these forces for so long before he tired or
their numbers overwhelmed him. He
needed another avenue of retreat, but none were forthcoming so he sprinted
around the entrance to the cavern, making enough room for himself to Force
leap back up to the ledge and survey his wider surroundings. The picture was grim. Although all of his attackers were now
behind and below him, he could see in the distance across the undulating
hills and muddy valleys the glow of approaching ground vehicles and support
vessels. While many bore the flag of
the Confederacy some wore the colours of Salutarr, and that gave him cause
for concern. While fighting the
Separatists had become his life’s work these past three years, battling local
militia was something he dearly wished to avoid. As Master Zeboden had himself said,
promises cloud the mind much more than reality. And Ade-arr knew that Dooku and his
followers were peddling lies with no more substance than smoke in a gale. B’erain
pushed on, following the slippery route that led away from the cavern and
onto the puddle-soaked flat ground that led into the shallow hills. He could hear the droids charging around
the rim that led up to the top of the cavern and could hear the rumble of the
Saluras Child as it marched ahead, pushing all in its path aside. Sprinting onwards he again opened to the Force
and saw a multiple array of possible futures, some in which he lived and some
he died. More S.T.A.P.S buzzed overhead,
lashing him with fire and he began to resign himself to his fate as the droid
army edged ever closer. It was
then that his salvation arrived. It
arrived in the welcome shape of a battered Desando Dynamics APF-62 Venturer
freighter, pock-marked and scorched from years of close calls and fast
escapes. Its thirty-five meter long
hull swooped low over B’erain, covering him from the barrage of laser fire
raining down from the attacks, and its ramp slammed open. Ade-arr looked up to see a familiar figure
beckoning at him from the top of the ramp. “Jump!” Yelled Elise Ni’ipe, her red oil covered smugglers
jacket flapping in the breeze. “We
haven’t much time.” B’erain
saw a small hillock and aimed for it, deflecting more blaster fire and
launching himself into the air, landing neatly on the lip of the ramp. Elise slapped the hatch button and the ramp
of her freighter the Gripped Talon
retracted, sealing both inside as more flack hit the vessel. B’erain
gave Elise a grin as she helped him to his feet and he dusted himself down. “Once again you knew where to find me.” B’erain noted, making his way into the wide
cockpit. Elise shrugged and wiped her
hands on her thighs as B’erain checked the cockpits instrumentation and
leaned over the shoulder of Ni’ipes pilot Lessek, frowning deeply. The forces of the enemy were numerous and
organised. They didn’t stand a hope. “I was looking for trouble and you’re
Jedi. The two go together.” B’erain
couldn’t argue with that and so he found himself a comfortable seat to rest
in as Salutarr shrank in the distance like ice on hot water and he sank into
a shallow Jedi healing trance. “And you’re certain it was Confederate forces you engaged?” B’erain
couldn’t help but frown at Master Zeboden as the towering humanoid from
Crilik leaned forward in his seat. The
elder Jedi held up a conciliatory hand. “I only ask because at this juncture in
the war we need hard truths and cold facts.” “I understand Master.” The
other eleven members of the Setnin Jedi Council waited patiently for Zeboden
to collect his thoughts. The domed ceiling
that covered the Setnin Jedi’s chamber on the moon of Benesk was pock-marked
from attack after attack, the Separatists earmarking the sector capital as a
vital place to take more systems away from the autonomous sector and therefore
the Republic. But Benesk, the world of
Zelon below and the trade city of Chancai in particular had held firm under
the onslaught, and the Jedi had stayed put in their war council. Zeboden knew, as did many other of his
fellow Jedi, that the war was going badly in the sector and
beyond, and that soon they would require another avenue of
attack. Or another avenue of defence,
whichever ground out the better result.
The Crilik Jedi had heard rumours of a huge vessel being refit to take
refugees and Jedi away from the Mid-Rim to a safe area of space, but during
discussions among Setnins politicians and his fellow council members he had dismissed
this as idle chatter. He wouldn’t
believe, especially during such a vital conflict as the Clone Wars that Jedi
would lay down their lightsabres and flee.
And
yet he secretly found himself hoping it was true and that the glory of the
Jedi could be saved and rekindled another day, for the darkness that clouded
his perceptions of the Force were indeed foreboding and he knew that brighter
days were far away. He returned his
thoughts and his attentions to his fellow Jedi as he rose from his seat and
stood beside B’erain opposite the horse shoe arrangement of seats. “We have lost much since the Clone Wars
began. Friends, compatriots, loved
ones. We have lost entire worlds. But even though our numbers have been
diminished, the fire inside that wills us to fight the Separatists burns
bright.” Zeboden looked down at
B’erain, who stared impassively ahead.
“All of us have lost something.
Someone.” He clenched his fist
as he eyed the eleven members of the Setnin Jedi before him. “`A
single candle in the largest cavern offers us illumination. But shadows always fall before high sun.’” Zeboden allowed himself a sad smile. “My master taught me that a century ago and
I have never forgotten it. And it’s
something every one of us should remember.
Even in the dark times.” A
sorrowful silence fell over the room.
All assembled knew they were living in the darkest of times, a true
galactic war. Zeboden sat back down as
B’erain, his hands held together in front of him
spoke up. “Where am I to be sent next?” Ovo
Duplis, a fur-covered warrior from the world of Natsule leaned forward. “The Kofashees System. We sense a dark presence there, one which we
believe you have sensed yourself.” It was
a statement, not a question and B’erain nodded. “Yes Master.” He glanced around the council, closely
modelled on the primary council sitting on Coruscant. “And the Saluras Child?” Zeboden
frowned and glanced at Duplis, a look B’erain noticed. “Another mystery and one which sadly I can
shed no light upon.” “I understand Master. I will endeavour to solve it myself. I need a ship. My ETA-2 was left behind on Salutarr.” Zeboden
raised an eyebrow. The Jedi could ill
afford to lose vessels at this stage of the war, especially new models like
the ETA-2, but he knew the Astromech droid would have self-destructed to deny
the enemy the satisfaction of its capture or the benefit of its intelligence. “Perhaps your smuggler friend could
transport you?” Ade-arr
shook his head as he thought of Elise. “I’m sure she would Master, but not this
time. I sense this situation is too
dangerous for anyone but a fully trained Jedi.” “I agree.” Said Duplis, nodding
slowly. “Your friend Ni’ipe has been
invaluable, but now is not the one she will lose her life.” B’erain
paused a second at that comment but inquired no further. It wasn’t the time or the place to question
the wisdom of his elders. He bowed to
the assembled Jedi, took a quick glance at the rich stars that lay overhead
and left the chamber behind him. B’erain
noticed the change in atmosphere as soon as he entered the training room, and
as he removed his Jedi robes to practise his sabre technique he could feel
the eyes of the younger Jedi gravitate towards him. He was tired and weary, too many battles in
too short a time, and he had no desire to furnish these young warriors with
tales of death and destruction.
Perhaps if he could regale them with stories of a victory, where the
Jedi were not fleeing from the enemy he would find the energy. However
as he ignited his green sabre and waited for the cylindrical remote to hover
into position he couldn’t ignore the three young Jedi who stood together,
clearly waiting for his attention. He
closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and snapped down his sabre,
waiting silently for them to approach.
The youngest, an attractive blonde female called Janna Hollis stepped
forward. “Master B’erain,” she paused, glancing at
her fellow young Jedi. “It is good to
see you alive.” “And you young Janna.” He glanced at the three of them. “How can I help?” Janna
again looked nervous and moved even closer.
Clearly she was uncomfortable with what she was about to say. “We have heard rumours. About a vessel being prepared to take Jedi
out of the known regions.” She paused,
almost retreating, but continued. “A
vessel guided by Master De’Athe.” She
glanced around again. “People are
worried. We know the Force will guide
us, but our numbers diminish every day.”
Her two fellow Jedi moved to stand beside
her, all three looking up at the taller B’erain. “Is it true Master? Is Master De’Athe alive?” Ade-arr
wiped his brow with the sleeve of his tunic and fixed the three of them with
a hard stare, the weight of it making them wilt. “After what happened to Master De’Athe I
would have thought you’d place little store in gossip.” The three immediately looked ashamed. Their instructor Notami De’Athe had been
swayed by the dark side a year before, and had died in battle, put to death by
his closest Jedi brother Yyfekk Talaihin.
Talaihin had found it impossible to live with the consequences of his
actions and gave up his Jedi ways, leaving the Setnin Sector and losing
himself in the wilds of the Outer Rim.
Stories were numerous about what had really happened - who, what,
where and why. But it hadn’t altered
the outcome. Two great Jedi had been
lost, and the war had shifted against them ever since. Ade-arr missed his Jedi compatriots, but
nothing could change the past.
Especially not ghost stories.
He furrowed his brow and folded his arms. “Master De’Athe is dead. His wisdom and skills are sorely missed,
but even the Force cannot bring him back.” “But Master,” It was Dek Rev, a red haired
human hailing from Alderaan. His
fellow Omro Scrum, a near human native of the planet Chalacta nodded in
agreement. “He must be alive.” B’erain
shook his head. “Master De’Athe was swayed by the lure of
the dark side, as hard as that is for you to accept, for any of us. Master Talaihin sensed that and fought him
before he could be lured further. The
dark side has an influence on us all.
Sometimes people succumb.” He
allowed himself a small smile. “I
sense that this will not happen to any of you.” The
three bowed in appreciation of the older Jedi’s time. “To honour our fallen master we will see
that it does not.” Said Janna as the three moved away, leaving Ade-arr alone
with his thoughts. He watched them
leave and reignited his sabre, addressing the remote in the aggressive
neutral stance and waited for its attack.
But he had lost the desire to train and stepped away, lifting his robe
from the hook on the wall and leaving the training room in silence. “Salutarr is ours. B’erain fled like a dog and the government
has agreed to side with us. As we
speak our armies are occupying the major cities.” Garani Allafson leaned back in her seat, a
cruel smile curling her luscious black lips.
“The Jedi will soon be on their knees.” The Jedi are on their knees
already. Now we bring them to heel. Garani
heard the voice as clearly as if it had been whispered into her ear and nodded
as she stroked the arm of her leather chair.
Here, in the dark depths of a Separatist facility on Kofashees she held
sway, ordering the forces of the Confederacy in their plans to take yet
another system. And yet she knew her
dealings with the Jedi, and B’erain in particular was far from over. B’erain had proven to be an opportunistic
man, and resourceful. It would take
far more than hollow threats and words to end his interference. I agree. So what do you intend to do about him? Garani
chided herself for letting her thoughts run astray. When in the presence of such a powerfully
manipulative mind as her superior it was best to guard one’s thoughts like a
jealous lover. And besides, Garani was
a powerful user of the Force herself, skilled in many talents. In her own way she was equal to the owner
of the voices in her head. Only she
wasn’t nearly as liberated with her darkest thoughts. She reined her thoughts in and answered
aloud. “He will be here soon, as will others. The council have been tailing me ever since
my run in on Gista with De’Athe and Talaihin. And I’m sure they sensed me on
Salutarr.” They did. “So B’erain and his Jedi fools will try to
stop me.” She paused and straightened
in her seat. “And when they learn that
I serve another they will try to stop you.” You are correct. They will try. And like all the others they will fail. “You seem certain of that.” Garani replied confidently. Too confidently. Her heart froze as the wait for an answer
lingered on for too many seconds. Clearly you are not. Do you doubt me Garani? He was
in her mind like a lightsabre cutting through wood, and instantly she knew
she had overstepped her bounds. At
first she felt little more than a warmness in her throat,
then a heat that rose through her head into her brain followed by a sudden
white-hot stab that jolted her out of her seat to the floor. She was in too much pain to cry out at
first, and as the initial agony wore off she found her breath and began to
gasp loudly. But no sounds came out of
her mouth, and her silent scream intensified as the renewed pain coursed
through her so much she was a writhing ball on the cold floor. No, no Garani. No screams.
The troops are not to be disturbed.
They know what they have to do. Another
torturous lance of pain hit Garani and she clasped her hands to her head, her
teeth clenched so tight she feared they would crumble in her mouth. But apparently you do not. And as
suddenly as it had appeared the pain went as if it had never existed. Garani composed herself for a moment,
closed her eyes and caught her breath, then rose back to her feet and into
the chair. It’s past time that you learned
your place. Her
mind was a mass of thoughts and visions, jumbled and confused, all tainted
with bitterness and hatred towards the being that had brought down such pain
upon her. She breathed in again
through her nose. Your anger is like a bomb waiting
to explode. Be sure to unleash it
against the Jedi. Garani
turned her thoughts to B’erain, Zeboden, Duplis, all the Jedi who sought to
interfere in the affairs of the Separatists and the Sith, and lifted her chin
in defiance. “I guarantee it. The Jedi that land on Kofashees will rue
the day they were born.” See to it that they do. Zeboden
watched in silence as Ade-arr finished his final flight check on the Jedi
Starfighter he had lent to his former apprentice. The Aethersprite was a battle-scarred
warhorse that had seen much action over recent years and Zeboden was almost
reluctant to let the Jedi Knight use it, especially after losing the newer
ETA-2 model. But his place was on
Benesk, overseeing the wider operation while B’erain had a more hands-on
mission to accomplish. “Remember everything I taught you.” Said Zeboden in an uncharacteristically
quiet voice, his usual booming baritone subdued. B’erain turned from the Astromech hardwired
into the port wing and paused. “Of course Master, you know I will.” He clasped hands with the towering Crilik
Jedi. “I always have and I always
will.” Zeboden
smiled fleetingly and nodded, clearly emotional. Zeboden had always felt a paternal bond
with his former Padawan, and Ade-arr considered him a second father. Despite their strict adherences to the Jedi
ways the two men embraced. “Be safe.
Travel swift and come home in one piece.” “I will Master.” “And remember the code.” Ade-arr
nodded and closed his eyes as together he and his master recited the Jedi
Code. “There is no
Emotion, there is Peace. There is no Ignorance,
there is Knowledge There is no Passion,
there is Serenity. There is no Death,
there is the Force.” No more words were needed as B’erain climbed into the
Aethersprite and activated the engines.
The Astromech droid whistled an affirmative and Ade-arr received the
thumbs up from the ground crew. His
headset buzzed and he activated the comm. channel. “Ground Control, this
is Silver Leader. Request permission
to depart.” In the control centre Flight Deck Supervisor Decon Drak
acknowledged the request and lowered the security shield, opening the domed
covering above. “Permission granted
Silver Leader. Clear skies.” “To us all.” Replied
Ade-arr as the Delta-7 rose lightly out of the dome and launched herself away
from Benesk. He handed control of the
vessel over to the Astromech droid and closed his eyes, knowing the droid was
taking the fighter high above Benesk where the external hyperdrive rings
waited. The Aethersprite hooked itself
to the ring and powered away and he felt himself slip into an uncomfortable
rest as the stars turned to swirls and reality shifted into hyperspace. It was a short journey, an hour at most, winding through
occupied territory and spatial anomalies.
But B’erain had been inventive, making a deal with a certain
disreputable member of the underworld and had been fortunate enough to utilise
the smugglers detailed starmaps. He
smiled in his sleep as he thought of Elise Ni’ipe handing over the maps and
wishing him luck, her gruff demeanour hiding the heart of gold that he knew
beat within. While many characters of
ill repute had sided with the Confederacy, Ade-arr doubted any of them had
the routes Zebodens Astromech contained within its bronze dome. An alert sounded, chiming to warn him that the drop from
hyperspace was two minutes away. He
opened his eyes fully awake and alert, ready for action and scanned his
console. The brief rest had turned out
to be more satisfying than he envisioned and rested he could already sense darkness
on the planet that lay less than a minute’s hyperspace travel ahead of
him. It was the same darkness he had
sensed on Salutarr, and as his focus sharpened he realised that he knew
precisely who it was. Garani. “I should have known
she was involved.” He spoke aloud. His
Astromech whistled in response but B’erain ignored it, gripping the controls
as the Jedi Starfighter decelerated out of hyperspace and he detached the
fighter from the external hyperdrive ring that had carried the ship so far. Kofashees lay below, an unremarkable world
save for the fact that it was occupied by more Separatist forces and Garani
Allafson, a known enemy of the Jedi and a master manipulator. B’erain had encountered her before and knew
he would have to be at his best to deflect her lies and mistruths. Her persuasions were equal to any blade,
and she wielded a sword as well as anyone he knew. He had the scars of battle to prove it. He flew down undetected, cutting the engines and power gliding
down towards the surface, an old smugglers trick he had learned from an
A-desandian he’d once met who shared his first name. As the craggy mountains of the Faso
Peninsular cut through the clouds he gunned the engines and swooped down, swinging
into a jagged canyon and setting the ship down as silently as he could. It was as cold and dark as a grave and he
guarded both his footsteps and his thoughts as he secured his masters fighter,
stepping away from the ship and making his way towards the path that led out
of the canyon and towards Garani. He could
feel her pulling at him like a magnet and while he could easily resist he
didn’t want to. B’erain wanted
Allafson to think she had him snared in her
trap. If nothing else Garani was
arrogant and overconfident and that played to B’erains advantage. Or so he hoped. The skies were darkening on Kofashees, fluffing the skies with
grey cotton clouds. There was an edge
to the air, an electric chill that both exhilarated and tensed Ade-arr, and
as he made the turn that revealed the Separatist base he checked himself,
remembered his vast training and moved on.
“He’s here.” Said Garani, resting her elbow on her knee
as she stared into nothingness. I know. “What would you have me do?” She said it with an air of contempt, but
knew that there would be no come back this time. She was angry, hurt and bitter and more
open to the dark side than she had been in an age. Just what he wanted. I would have you do
your worst. And your
best. Garani stood to her feet and made her way from her private
chambers. “You shall receive no
less.” B’erain trod cautiously as he crept closer to the entrance of
the Separatist base, his eyes darting all around for signs of danger. He hadn’t seen a soul so far and that made
him wary of a trap. Unless his arrival
was either predicted or was confirmed, this area should have been buzzing
with activity, but it was deserted. He
paused, frozen as a statue, and again Ade-arr’s skills engaged themselves
before any physical harm could befall him.
Danger! He dived sideways as a huge steel white arm crushed the door
frame he was peering around and he whipped his sabre out, igniting it and
slashing out at the Saluras Child as it stomped its way towards him, the same
growl he’d heard on Salutarr droning from its vocoder. Ade-arr positioned himself carefully,
taking a defensive stance, and checked his options. They were at the very edge of a wide
canyon, his walk taking him in a constant ascent towards the base, and as he
peered over he couldn’t see the bottom of the drop from the edge of the
precipice. It was a fall he knew he
wouldn’t survive, and he doubted the almost indestructible droid would survive
it either. But this wasn’t a game of
chance. First he had to lure the droid
there. Ade-arr
was aware that the Saluras Child was extremely intelligent and reasoned that
if its programming had been subverted, that same power of thought had
probably been diminished to lessen the chance of it railing against its
reprogramming. He swung his sabre from
side to side, moving ever so slightly closer to the ledge with every
sway. The Saluras Child watched his
movements closely, still clearly not acting in anything remotely approaching
its usual manner. It ticked and
twitched as if trying to deny the sparks and surges that powered it, and
constantly paused in mid action.
Ade-arr had time to study historical documents on the Saluras Child in
the two days he was on Benesk, and had even seen a brief Holo clip of the
droid standing beside its master Chatroot at a ceremony celebrating the end
of a great war millennia’s ago. And
while having not apparently aged a jot, the Saluras Child of today was acting
in an altogether different way. But
B’erain couldn’t busy himself with thoughts of pity for the droid, too much
depended on his actions. The Saluras
Child blocked his path to Garani, and she was but an obstacle in his attempt
to free Kofashees from Confederacy control.
And he knew even beyond that, there was another dark hurdle that lay
ahead. Not the greater evil of the
Sith that threatened to engulf the galaxy, but something closer, more
focused. Ade-arr had felt its
influence clearly, as if it had always been at the forefront of his
perceptions, and that troubled him deeply. The
Saluras Child lurched forward in attack and Ade-arr leapt upwards, snapping
down his lightsabre and landing on its broad shoulders and bounding away,
twisting in mid-air and wedging into a crevice in the wall. The droid spun and aimed its huge hand
cannons at him, blasting the wall apart into shards of rubble but the Jedi
wasn’t there. He had launched himself immediately
away from the wall, his trajectory aimed straight between the firing arcs of
the two cannons, and using the Force he planted both feet into the droids
chest with a huge clang that left B’erain on the floor in a dazed heap. The Saluras Child was practically knocked
off its feet, back peddling towards the lip of the canyon drop, gears
whirring and voice growling. Ade-arr
had just enough about him to look up and hurl a Force push at the droid and
with a flail of its arms it retracted its cannons and hands appeared,
grasping for something to grab onto.
But there was only thin air and it tumbled over, bouncing off the
canyon wall with a scrape and spinning away in silence into the depths below. B’erain
remained on the floor for a few moments, composing himself before he stood
and reignited his sabre. The emerald
glow was a comfort to him, and he followed both its shine and the lure of
Garani through a twisting pathway of canyons and tunnels until they reached a
clear demarcation line between natural rock and laser blasted corridors. He knew he was now in the Separatist complex,
and that he was likely being watched but he pushed onwards, using the Force
to sprint long corridors and distract guards and droids, just as Zeboden had
taught him decades before. He
reached a junction that opened up into a wide corridor, broad enough for
speeders and troop carriers to travel.
It was deserted, as was most of the base and he guessed that it was
either a new complex with a skeleton staff or they had been instructed to
stay out of his way, which was likely the explanation. B’erain knew a trap when he saw one, but he
also knew what he could do in full flow.
Confidence in his own abilities wasn’t something he lacked. The
corridor led to a pair of enormous blast doors, and he knew the almost
irresistible pull lay behind them. He
worked his way closer, checking for a panel that would open them and when one
wasn’t apparent he held his sword before him and prepared to cut his way
through. “No need for that, Jedi.” The voice of Garani cut through the intercom system and
Ade-arr immediately stiffened into a battle stance. “You only need knock.” The
doors parted into a pitch black room, and seated in a single shaft of light
on an overstuffed leather seat sat Garani.
She looked somewhat different to the way she had the last time they’d
fought during the Battle of Salutarr several months ago. Her tanned skin was paler; her lips now
blood red, almost black. Her long
black hair was free but limp and lifeless, not tied up neatly as it had been
before and the way she held herself had changed, from a cocksure loftiness to
an arrogant pose. B’erain walked
directly into the ebony room, up the steps to her seat, his sabre held in
front of him. “You know why I am here Garani. It’s time for you and your army to leave.” Garani
raised an eyebrow at this and leaned forward slightly. “My army?”
She laughed, a cruel sound like treacle dripping down a drain. “Oh you deluded fool. This isn’t my
army.” She rose to her feet but
B’erain stayed firm. “I am simply a
lieutenant.” Her hand came to rest on
the hilt of her black lightsabre, a move Ade-arr noted. “Count Dooku may head the Separatist
movement, but in the Setnin Sector the Confederacy is led by another.” “Your proficiency for lies hasn’t dimmed
Garani, although I’d wager you’ve had plenty of practise.” Garani
nodded as she slipped free of the cloak she wore around her shoulders,
revealing a black and grey bodysuit that hugged her athletic figure like a
glove. She unhooked the sabre free of
its clasp and slinked her way towards the steps, her eyes locked firmly on
B’erain. “I certainly have, Jedi. Although you will
soon learn that these days it is wise to accept the word of your enemy as the
truth.” She activated her ruby red
blade and sneered. “After all, why lie
when the truth is so much more effective?” “Save it for someone who cares.” Ade-arr
growled, taking a step forward and slashing his blade before him in a figure
eight. “The time for talk is over.” “I couldn’t agree more.” Said Garani as
she swayed in with a wide slash, a feint and an attack. B’erain parried, stepped forward swiftly
and laced in with an attack of his own.
Garani spun and deflected the attack from behind, slashing low and
making Ade-arr leap into the air to avoid his feet being cut off at the
ankles. She took a short step back and
sneered. “I know you are a proud fool, but even you
are not arrogant enough to come alone.
And yet I sense no others.” She
cocked her head. “Are the Jedi really
so depleted they can only send one man to do an armies job?” B’erain
spun his sabre in his hands, the emerald blade twirling like a baton and
shook his head. “The council’s decisions are none of your
concern.” He jabbed the blade towards
Garani and she swatted it away with the tip of her sabre. “You have me to worry about.” Garani
leered at him again and shook her head, her red blade glowing like lava
against her pale skin. “No, Jedi. I fight for the Separatists, which means I
have nothing to worry about.” She
pointed at something in the darkness and from out of it a heavy set table tumbled
towards B’erain, hurled by the Force.
“Unlike you.” He
sheared it in half with his blade, just managing to deflect her next attack,
leaping over her and landing with a foot on either arm rest of her
chair. Garani gave a war cry and spun
the sabre in a wide arc, missing B’erain and slicing the chair in half, the
two cauterised sides crashing to the floor.
Ade-arr looped high into the air and landed in a crouch on the floor,
the sabre in his grip a few centimetres from the ground pointing in front of
him. Garani moved forward, kicking the
remains of her chair out of her way and nodded. “Impressive. But how long can you keep this up? An hour?
Two? Last time we fought for
five hours and I was hardly out of breath.” An evil glint reflected in her eye. “And I have become so much more powerful
since then. You don’t have a prayer Jedi.” “Sometimes that’s all we need.” B’erain
leapt high into the air again and dove towards Garani, his blade a point
aimed directly at her throat. She
barely managed to touch it away, but couldn’t avoid his foot as it smashed
against her temple and knocked her to the ground. Dazed she tried to regain her footing but
her legs gave way beneath her, her lightsabre out of reach and she looked up
at B’erain with cold eyes as his blade hovered by her throat. “Do
it Jedi.” She spat with venom. “It’s the only chance you’ll ever get. But mark my words. You may defeat me, but ultimate victory
will be ours.” Ade-arr
narrowed his eyes at Garani and drew a deep breath. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” B’erain
pulled his sword arm back, aiming a trajectory to cleave her head neatly from
her shoulders when… Freeze. Ade-arr’s
body instantly locked up and he froze like a statue, his eyes wild and
shocked, the deep voice ringing in his head like a bell. He tried to resist but his body betrayed
him and he watched as Garani leaned back onto her elbows, her sabre flying
into her hand as a smile smeared across her face. She ignited the blade and held it at
B’erains stomach, waiting for the word to slay him, but the word didn’t come.
Ade-arr
collected his thoughts and swiftly realised what was happening to him. He remained still, gathering himself inside
and preparing himself for the next move, staying frozen. Better to hear what this unknown enemy had
to say than to die ignorant. Brave of you Jedi. Coming alone. But bravery saved no one. Garani. There
was a pause as Garani practically drooled, waiting for the word. Kill him. She
stood and lined up her blade, aiming to disembowel Ade-arr’s stomach. His eyes followed her like a hunter
watching its prey and as she swung the blade towards him he briefly thought that
perhaps this was his time and he would die.
Until just a millisecond before the blade struck, when his own sabre
rose in defence. “What?” She stared at B’erain with incredulous eyes
as he rose to his feet, sabre held at his side. She looked left and right for an explanation
for his miraculous recovery but there was no answer. Ade-arr turned and looked around the room
himself, his breaths deep and cleansing, anger high in his voice. “Reveal yourself! I know your tricks conjurer, I come
prepared.” He threw a look over his
shoulder at Garani who hadn’t yet moved.
“I may have been taken by surprise once – and that was your only chance – but it will not
happen again.” The Council chose wisely. Clearly I cannot turn your mind against
you. “You cannot.” There
was a long pause, and it felt as if a wind had blown through the long dark
room. B’erain steadied himself, his
eyes still fixed on Garani. Then I will face you man to man. Ade-arr
gripped the sabre tight in his hands, preparing himself for whatever would
appear. But not today. “Gorre! You can’t leave me alone!” cried Garani in
shock, and as suddenly as she had spoken the words she fell to the floor in
agony, clutching her head with both hands, the sabre swaying dangerously
close to her. Inside her head she
could hear words directed only at her, not B’erain. Foolish woman! I can do with you as I wish! Kill the Jedi and know your place. The
pain intensified. And utter my name aloud again and
I shall shatter your mind like glass. Ade-arr
watched in fascination at this turn of events but made certain he kept his sabre
close. Whatever was happening to
Garani was debilitating, and he saw a chance to end their confrontation then
and there. But now that she was in no
condition to defend herself he paused. Death in combat was one thing but this was
quite another, and as a strict adherent to the Jedi code he found himself
waiting for her to stand to her feet.
Which to his amazement she did like a flash as the pain again subsided
like it had never been and her ruby blade tore a path through the air towards
his throat.
“Sympathy for your enemy?” shouted Garani as she swung more wild hacks
towards him. “You are more forgiving
than I.” She lashed out a foot which
caught him in the midsection and knocked him back. “I would have sliced you in two in an
instant.” “That’s why you failed as a Jedi.” Bit back Ade-arr, parrying another vicious
blow. Garani laughed. “Is that
what you believe? I left the order because
my sister learned the truth – that
the dark side truly is the quicker path to power.” Her face contorted as she flashed memories
through her mind. “Seranomi gave up
her dark side ways.” She unleashed
another violent attack. “I did not.” “You were a fool to leave the path of the
Jedi.” He leapt into another
attack. “There’s nowhere to go Garani,
nowhere to hide. The Jedi will track
you down and bring you to justice.” He
used the Force to push her back as she attempted another attack. “You know the council will not permit an
aberration of the Force like you.” Garani
shook her head, her eyes wild and brimming with rage. “An aberration? Curse
you! You made me what I am! You and
those self-righteous Jedi scum! Took me and my sister away from our home as
children, made us train as warriors.
Stole our childhood!” She
hammered away again at B’erain. “And
then, when you didn’t like what we had become you abandoned us. No help, no assistance.” Her voice was close to breaking, and rich
with bitterness. “Only my fathers
influence on Nogard saved us from execution.” “Jedi do not kill children.” Countered
Ade-arr, but Garani was beyond reason now. “No, no, of course. That would be too easy, killing us. You
did worse than that. You ignored
us! Shunned us!” She gripped her lightsabre even
tighter. “Well, now your mistakes are
coming back to haunt you. A whole
galaxy full of them!” B’erain
and Garani engaged in a furious exchange of blows, faster than the eye could
follow, moving all around the black room, their actions illuminated only by
the savage glow of their clashing swords.
Such was the intensity of her anger and her attacks that Ade-arr could
feel his offence turn into defence, and soon even that weakened. He could sense the steps behind him and he
made an attempt to jump backwards up them but Garani reached out and slammed
him to the hard floor with the Force, standing over him with pain and rage on
her face. It was
then that the roof caved in. They
both instinctively protected themselves from the fall in with Force shields,
rolling away from the debris under the safety of their invisible covers. B’erain shook his senses free, searching
for Garani in the dust and smoke that had completely engulfed the room but
couldn’t see her. He knew she was
there, she shone like a beacon all over his senses, but where in the room he
didn’t know. Through the powdery fine
dust and noise he could see a large hole in the roof, and was surprised to
see the dark skies above, having thought they were deep within the mountain when
in fact they were close to the surface.
He heard the distinctive roars of three LAAT/i,
Republic Gunships flying overhead, and watched as twenty Clonetroopers
deployed from the open side onto the exposed roof above and started to drop
through the gaping hole, weapons at the ready. Already the Gunships were deploying their
speeder bikes, their shrill whine echoing in the distance as the shock
Republic assault caught the Separatists off-guard. He could see laser fire lacing through the
skies but Ade-arr gave it little concern.
If he couldn’t sense the approach and attack of the Republic troops
then certainly the enemy would not. Ade-arr
stood, eyes still scanning the room. He called over the nearest Clonetrooper,
a command level trooper with red flashes on his helmet and body armour. CC 7745, also known to Ade-arr as Deej, came
over. “Commander B’erain, the base is
secured. We have Gunships covering the
mountain range and launch areas. Troop deployments are working their way
through the complex.” “Good work Deej,” Ade-arr fixed the
Clonetrooper with a gratified look. “But
warn your men to proceed with extreme caution. There is a dark Jedi loose in here.” Deej
turned slightly from B’erain and passed that information through his headset,
turning back to the tired looking Jedi Knight. “Sir, my orders are to secure the base and
take back the planet from Separatist forces, not to engage dark Jedi.” Ade-arr
frowned and was about to argue when a loud yell came from above and a
Clonetroopers lifeless body fell through the hole in the ceiling, crunching
into the floor in a heap. All
assembled turned swiftly to the commotion and B’erain looked up just in time to
see Garani swing about the speeder bike she had commandeered. Her laugh cut through the mayhem like a
laser and Ade-arr instinctively ignited his sabre. “Until the next time Jedi.” She spat as she
accelerated away from the base at full tilt.
B’erain cursed and leapt up through the hole to give chase, but knew
it was a hopeless cause. He saw the bike swerve between two AT-TE walkers as
they spilled their twenty-man deployments onto the ground and watched it as
it shrank into the distance. Sabre
glowing by his side he surveyed the carnage and slowly shook his head. Had this
encounter with Garani and her master been a victory? If so it was a symbolic one at best, and once
again at great cost. He quelled his
blade and returned the hilt to his belt.
As ever he had more questions than answers. The
bridge of the Acclamator Class Republic Assault ship Voltab III was awash with activity as the ships senior officer
Commander Tolin deployed the vessels sixteen thousand Clonetroopers to the
ground, a massive array of ordinance and armour accompanying them. Alarms sounded and klaxons blared as a
flotilla of support ships trailed to the surface, eliminating the Separatist threat. The base had been their only foothold on
the planet, but was clearly a staging post for a further invasion, but now
Tolin and his Clonetroopers had wiped out that threat. For the Republic it had been a good day and
the stalemate of systems lost and systems won held, for the time being at
least. In the
midst of the busy bridge two men walked in solemn silence towards and
ancillary briefing room that was dark save for the glow of a holographic
projector that sat sank into the centre of the room. It showed a tactical display of Kofashees
below, and the huge forces being deployed by the two Republic Assault ships, quickly
quelling Separatist plans for the planet.
The taller of the two men walked to the centre of the room and turned,
facing the other. “You did well Ade-arr. The council is pleased.” B’erain
couldn’t conceal his frown and folded his arms, one hand rubbing his sore
chin in thought. “Why wasn’t I told of the Republics
assault on Kofashees?” It was a direct
question asked in a direct manner and Zeboden stiffened slightly. He paused before continuing. “Because there was a possibility the
information could have been coerced from you, thereby jeopardising the attack.” Ade-arr
lowered his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Master, you know I am more than adept in
shielding my mind from reading.” He
thought back briefly to the mind attack his mysterious assailant had borne
upon him with a twinge of regret.
“There was no need to deceive me.” “You were not deceived. It was a tactical decision, made by the
government and the Jedi Council.” He
blew out a long breath. “If I thought
that decision would have put you in any more danger than you were already in I
would not have permitted it.” Ade-arr
began to walk slowly around the Holo pit, the imagery constantly altering as
the green of Republic forces swamped the red of the Confederacy. “Is that so? And what of this mysterious dark warrior
who spoke directly to my mind?” He
stopped his walk in front of the towering Master Zeboden. “Was he the danger you speak of?” Zeboden
saw no other option but to admit the truth. “Yes.”
He answered simply. Ade-arr
nodded. He knew Jedi were
expendable. In all honesty, everyone
was expendable if it meant keeping the galaxy free of this Sith scourge that
threatened to engulf it. But it was a
rare occurrence, to be sent into a situation as incendiary as the one he had
just barely managed to scrape his way out of with such little
information. He felt like bait. Zeboden continued, measuring his words
carefully. “We have known of the existence of this
dark warrior for many years. Felt him
on the periphery of our senses. You
have sensed this also.” Ade-arr nodded
slowly, locking eyes with his master.
“You have hunted Garani for months, but this other has been
elusive. We needed to draw him
out. And you my friend.” He bowed his head slightly. “Have just achieved that.” “But he only spoke to me Master. Measured me. Nothing more.” “And yet he couldn’t subvert your
mind.” Zeboden gave Ade-arr an almost
stern look, as if disappointed his former Padawan didn’t have faith in him. “And you yourself said he would meet you
man to man.” Zeboden moved to the Holo
display and activated another switch, altering the image from the tactical map
to one of the Jedi Council on Benesk.
B’erain bowed as the other Jedi appeared and the small blue image of
Ovo Duplis stood from his seat. “Master B’erain, you have served the
council well. Our enemy is finally
revealed. Your mission was a success.” Ade-arr
bowed as shallow as protocol allowed and fixed the hologram with another hard
stare. “You didn’t trust me master.” “Trust was not the issue. Security is. Now is not the time to rely on trust. We need far more than that.” The Jedi leaned in further towards the Holo
projector on Benesk. “And you, Master
B’erain, need to focus your frustrations on the task at hand.” B’erain
nodded and this time bowed deeply to the assembled Jedi and to his master
beside him. Of course Duplis was
right. Now was not the time for pride
or egotism. The council had sensed
this man and Ade-arr had drawn him out into the open, offered the powerful
telepath a challenge he couldn’t resist.
And with Garani on the run, Kofashees back in the hands of the
Republic and the reason for the councils concerns brought out into the open;
perhaps he did have some good stories to tell those young Jedi back on
Benesk. Tired, exhausted and aching he
turned to leave the room and head back to his Aethersprite and Benesk as Zeboden
spoke. “One more thing Ade-arr.” “Yes Master.” “This dark warrior. When he was in your mind. Did you learn anything else from him?” There
was an obvious, interested silence as the Jedi on both Benesk and the
Republic Assault ship waited for Ade-arr to speak. The weary Jedi nodded and folded his hands
before him. “Nothing more, only his name. Garani spoke it in error.” He looked directly at Zeboden. “She said his name was `Gore’.” The
silence, previously one of curiosity took on a chilling edge as no one
spoke. Zeboden stared straight ahead,
his mind swimming. He knows his name he thought. No
more lies. Ade-arr glanced
between the hologram and his master, waiting for someone to speak and,
agonised by the shocked silence, broke it himself. “I sense this is something I should be
told about.” He stated in a solemn voice. Zeboden
nodded and motioned for him to be seated.
He looked at the images of his Jedi brethren and in the pale blue
light, looking every day of his one hundred and forty years, and faced his
former pupil. “Astorr Gorre. This dark warriors name is Astorr Gorre.” Zeboden glanced away. “And once I have told you his story you
will understand why we have kept you in the dark.” Ade-arr
shook his head in disbelief. “In the dark? But why Master?” “Why?”
He allowed himself a sad smile.
“Because it’s the safest place to be.” The
Creeping Fear 2004 short story by Mark Newbold Twenty years before Episode IV – A New Hope Histories – The strife of the Clone Wars is drawing to a close, and
the Jedi of the galaxy are left
battered and depleted. And within Setnin, other matters are of equal
concern. Why has the Saluras Child reappeared? Will Setnins Jedi Knights really abandon
the sector and head off into the unknown aboard a huge starship? And who is the mysterious dark warrior who
lures Ade-arr B’erain to battle… Cast of Characters Jedi Knight Ade-arr B’erain Astorr Gorre Garani Allafson Jedi Master Zeboden Jedi Master Ovo Duplis Elise Ni’ipe Lessek Saluras Child Padawan Shayy Padawan Orrori Janna Hollis Dek Rev Omro Scrum Flight Deck Supervisor Decon Drak Commander Tolin Clonetrooper Commander Deej |