The Last Sith, Pt. 7

Welcome to Part 7 of my (so far) only foray into Star Wars fanfiction.

The disclaimers yet again:  Mara McCuniff is a a copyrighted character of Traci Briery.   Star Wars, Jedi, Sith, Yavin, Dantooine, Coruscant, Yoda, Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Mace Windu, et al, are copyrighted characters and terms owned by George Lucas, Lucasfilm, and 20th Century Fox.  I ain't gettin' no money from this, folks.

Orn watched Jeel’s ship climb higher and higher into the sky until it disappeared from all view. His padawan Mara was with Jeel, as he had commanded, and although it was his duty and responsibility to guide her in what was sure to be a great challenge for her – her first true battle – he had made his decision and would have to accept whatever consequences came of it. And Master Jeel was a wise and capable Jedi, if a bit jocular at times. She was in good hands and would return to him as promised.

Even so, old habits die hard, and when he went back inside the house, it occurred to him that there was no breakfast waiting for him because he had not made it yet. The sun had barely risen when they received the call from the Council. No time to make a hot meal before leaving.

He ate a cold meal of raw vegetables and some bread from the pantry, but fine dining was far from his mind. Darth Omen and his minions were still here – he could feel it. How many there were, he still could not say. The Jedi code forbade a Jedi from taking on more than one padawan learner, the better to train them. The Sith had no such restriction and took on any number of apprentices at one time. Some were content with one, while others gathered what amounted to a small army of minions. Omen had at least three, this he knew, for Jeel and Mara had already encountered them. Surely he had to be testing their mettle rather than throwing everything he had at them.

As far as Orn knew, there were no other Jedi on the planet but him. He had lived there as a Home Jedi for many years, since shortly after taking Mara as his padawan, and some of their missions had taken place on the other side of the hemisphere.

Orn finished his meal and got up, leaving the dishes to be cleared later. He went to his study and pushed at a small section on the paneling behind his desk. The paneling gave way and opened enough for him to reach in and pull out a small box. It had a seal on the outside. A broken seal. When he had first been given this box, the seal was whole, but this did not startle him. Orn himself had broken the seal a long time ago, out of unquenchable curiosity, but had stopped short of actually examining the contents. For this he was merely half-ashamed of his transgression.

He held the box for a long time, staring at the markings on top. He opened the lid and looked at the parchment within, but could not read it unless he removed it and unrolled it. Then with a snap, Orn shut the lid and pushed the box back into the hole and turned away. He walked to the window and looked outside. The day had all the markings of being pleasant and peaceful, but he knew this could change in an instant. He would be there to protect the city - no, the entire planet - when called, but could he truly succeed alone? How many Sith were out there, watching him? How many?

Orn made his decision, and prepared himself to accept the consequeences, whatever they might be.

* * *

"Master?" said Darth Malice from the entrance to Omen’s inner chambers. Omen opened his eyes from his meditations and turned towards his apprentice.

"What is it?"

"A report from Lord Scourge," said Malice. "We have taken the Jedi temple on Dagin! Our first victory!"

"Excellent," said Omen, getting up from the floor. He tugged at his cloak to straighten it.

"Master," said Malice, "Why is it that we were not summoned to Dagin?"

"I don’t know. But then, we were not needed there, were we?"

"No, it appears we were not," said Malice. "When may we join our brethren? When may we destroy the Jedi?"

"Soon enough," said Omen. "The report from Lord Scourge. Did it say where else we’re gathering?"

"It was not clear, my master. It mentioned a ‘valley of sorrow’ and ‘ancient green.’ "

"Yavin," said Omen. "One wonders his strategy.  Surely the Jedi have deciphered that on their own?  No matter.  I will remain here; you will go to Yavin and join our forces."

"Yes, my master," said Malice, bowing his head slightly. "How many should go with me?"

"None."

"None? Surely the others are eager to join the war."

"No doubt, but the destiny of my other apprentices is not the same as yours," said Omen. "And besides, if you don’t go to Yavin, you’ll miss the opportunity to avenge your brother and the twins."

"The padawan girl is on Yavin?" said Malice with a hint of eagerness. "How do you know this, master?"

"She is not there yet," said Omen, turning to face his apprentice. "Orn’s padawan and the Jedi Jeel will be on Yavin, eventually," Omen continued. "Orn will not be with them. He is still here. He knows that I am here. My clue was obvious enough."

"My master," said Malice. "The others… Is your plan to send them against Orn Taga? All twelve of them?"

"You’re still here?" said Omen. "Did I not just order you to leave?"

"Y-yes, but-"

"Then leave!"

Malice felt a slight squeeze at his throat. Their conversation was over. He bowed and hurried from the room and raced down the hallway to his quarters. On the way, he collided with an older man on his way to his own business. "Spitworm," Malice muttered to himself as he pushed past the fool in his way. If Omen had not forbidden all of them from harming the city's magistrate, he would have by now been in several pieces before the first part hit the floor.

The magistrate did not like these Sith, especially Malice, but Omen had come to him with a deal he dared not refuse, even if it meant betraying those two Jedi who had been so helpful over the years. But choosing his own life over theirs had been an easy decision for him, in the end. Fear was often a much more effective means of persuasion than loyalty and trust.

* * *

Mara sat with a group of Jedi and their padawan in the culinary sector closest to the Jedi Council’s temple on Coruscant. It was night now, and most of the group was engaged in more merriment than she thought appropriate given the situation. They told jokes, sang, played games and ate and drank heartily. More than one had poked her in the arm and tried to draw her into the fun, but she politely declined, preferring to merely observe. There were no quiet woods to retreat to and meditate, as she generally did around this time on Zeelan 4. Coruscant was so developed that at least half of the planet was covered with what seemed like one monstrous city. Surely they would not continue until the entire planet consisted of one metropolis. That would be madness. She was glad she lived on a planet that still had trees and lakes and gardens.

Mara was barely conscious of the revelries around her, when yet another well-meaning soul tapped on her shoulder. She turned, ready to turn down another invitation, only to see Jeel standing there. She smiled, then caught herself and forced it away. She stood up and looked at him, but he seemed more interested in the others’ activities for now. Jeel greeted Jedi familiar to him as they passed by, shaking hands or waving at those too far away.

"Ah, am I too late to join in the fun?" he said to Mara, who gave him a puzzled look. She looked at the others, then back at him.

"I don’t think so," she said. "But I don’t understand what it is they’re celebrating. We lost today. Many of our comrades died."

"That we did," said Jeel. "And that they did. And the Sith would want us to wallow in grief and be swallowed by despair. But as you can see, we’re not going to let that happen, are we?"

"But I’m not wallowing in grief," she said. "And I won’t give in to despair, but this day should be a solemn occasion. I’m sure Master Orn wouldn’t let me dance around a bonfire and sing drinking songs."

"You shouild try that sometime," said Jeel. When she gave him an even more puzzled look, one that bordered on shock, he sighed. "All right, young padawan," he said. "Walk with me."

* * *

It took Jeel a long time to find a secluded area where the two could sit and converse. They were several blocks away from the main festivities. Mara sat beside him, waiting patiently for him to speak first.

"So tell me," he said. "Why do you think the Sith destroyed the Temple of Gumarr?"

"That was the Temple of Gumarr?" she said. "It--- That’s one of our most sacred places. People say it’s the oldest Jedi temple ever built."

"Possibly," Jeel said. "The details don’t matter. But it’s a very important place to us, isn’t it? Irreplaceable in its symbolism of the eternity of the Force."

"Yes!" said Mara. "And the Sith destroyed it! Why?"

"You’re answering that right now," said Jeel, then was quiet. Mara waited for him to continue, but when he did not, she spoke instead.

"I… don’t understand," she said. "I didn’t say anything."

"You’re upset because the Temple of Gumarr was so important to us," said Jeel. "None of us can deny that or dismiss it. None of us wanted the Sith to destroy it, and least of all the Jedi protecting it. But they did. You must understand that it’s not enough for the Sith to just kill us. They want to kill more than our bodies.  They want to kill our spirits.  They want to break us, bring out our anger and hatred and bring us to their side.  That’s why they concentrated so heavily on that temple, which has been important to us for… millennia. It’s not located in a strategically significant sector of the galaxy. They’re not likely to use it as their base of operations for launching other attacks. It’s too remote. They’re just trying to make it… personal."

"It’s unbelievable," said Mara in a near whisper. "They fight with no rules, no regard for even the most basic respect or compassion."

"Oh, good, you do understand, then," said Jeel. "Look: not everyone is over there laughing the night away. I’m sure you can find many, many other Jedi deep in contemplation, and that’s all right. Most of them no doubt are, since most Jedi are as serious and solemn as you or Orn. But as you can see, there are others that choose to celebrate the good that came of this."

"What... good has come of this?"

"They’re not singing songs because we lost today," said Jeel. "They’re singing and drinking and eating because they lived to face the Sith again, where they’ll fight until the Sith have been vanguished forever. They’re celebrating because we won’t be defeated like that again. This is their way of keeping up their spirits and defeating the dark side that wants to turn us all."

"I see," said Mara. "It makes more sense now. For a time I was wondering if some of us had gone mad. I understand now that this is the way some keep the dark side at bay."

"There’s something else you should understand," said Jeel. "The Sith will succeed in turning some of us. There will be some unable to handle the ravages of war, and will give in to their fear, or despair, or whatever leads them to the dark side. There is no such thing as a perfect Jedi. We all wish there were, of course. But you must be prepared for that truth."

"I will never be turned to the dark side," she said. "I will destroy myself before letting that happen."

"Well, let’s hope we’re not faced with either possibility," he said with a brief smile. "So: I leave it to you. Do we retire to solemn meditation, or go play some jonbah?"

Mara looked in the direction of the Jedi festivities, then back at Jeel.

"I… don’t know any drinking songs," she said. Jeel got up, then held out his hand to her. She took it and let him pull her to a standing position.

"I’ll teach you," he said with a wink.

* * *

Mara had a charming dream about flying with birds. They flocked around in the air and chirped into her ear.  She would giggle and try to chirp back, but the sounds ehe made were more like a belch of an ongbeast during mating season.  Suddenly the wings of the birds sounded like booms of thunder, growing louder and louder, until she opened her eyes and sat up in bed with a shout.

A searing pain shot all around her head, and she groaned and let herself fall back onto the bed.  But the loud knocking on the door and chirping of the doorbell would not stop.

“Ow…” she said, rubbing her brow. “Ow…”

“Mara, are you in there?” a man’s voice was heard from the other side of the door. “Mara?”

Fighting against the pain, she rose from the bed and shambled around the room with her eyes closed, bumping into the bed on occasion.  A fine time for the Force not to guide her.  She made it to the door and fumbled with the controls to open it.  Jeel was there, his hand poised to begin another round of knocking.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he said. “Sorry to wake you, but we have to get to the ship and prepare it for departure.”

“We do?” she groaned, her eyes closing themselves again.

“Yes, I’ll be piloting one of our transports,” he said. “You’re my gunner.”

“What… time is it?”

“Um, about 0630 hours.  We’re leaving at 0800, so we have to get going.  We’ve got a long checklist to go over.”

“Didn’t I just… go to bed?” she groaned.

“Are you all right?”

“Ow,” she said, rubbing her temples. “Please whisper, if you can.”

“Mara, do you have a hangover?”

“A what?” she said, forcing her eyes open.

“A hangover,” he said. “Does your head hurt?  Do you have a headache?”

“I… Um… Yes,” she said.

“Oh, dear,” he said. “You’ve never had any alcohol before, have you?”

“Um…” she said, leaning against the wall, “I don’t think so.”

“That explains why you were out after 2 drinks.”

“Out where?”

“Never mind,” he said. “Wait right here.”  He disappeared from view and was heard opening cabinets and drawers from another room for a moment.  Then he returned, holding out a small flask filled with a milky yellow fluid inside.

“Drink this,” he said.

“Mmmall right,” she mumbled, and struggled to pull off the lid.  Jeel took the flask from her and twisted the cap, then handed it back to her. “Thank you,” she said, and downed it all in one gulp, then stared at the flask. “It tastes good.  Oh, no, I drank it all,” she said.

“I have more,” he said. “You should feel a lot better in about a minute.”

“Oh, good,” she said, leaning against the wall again. “Jeel…” she said, looking around the room for the first time.“Where am I?”

“My house.”

“What?”

“I live here on Coruscant,” he said. “I brought you here last night after you were… a little bit unconscious.  I hope you don’t mind.  As you can see, you slept alone.”

Mara frowned and still had a look of noncomprehension on her face. “Why was I unconscious?” she said.

“You drank a little more than you could handle,” he said. “Which wasn’t much at all, but then, you’ve never had alcohol before, so you must have no tolerance.”

“Do you mean to tell me,” she said, straightening up against the wall, “That I was drunk last night?”

“Uhh… Well…”

She groaned and put her face in her hands. “Ohhhh, Master Orn will NEVER let me let this down.  He might not even let me take my trials.”

“Nonsense,” said Jeel. “Besides, I take full responsibility for what happened.  I talked you into joining in the fun.  If he finds out, and it won’t be because I tell him, I’ll accept full blame.  By the way, are you feeling better yet?  How’s the headache?”

“Um…” she said, blinking a few times quickly. “Um, it still-- OH!”

“What happened?”

“The--!” she said, then shook her head quickly. “It just now went away, just like that!  Like a… balloon popping in my head.  What is that you gave me?”

“Just a quick cure for hangovers,” he said. “Come on, since you’re feeling better, we have to go.”

"Yes, Jeel,” she said, following him through the house and to the front door. “Ohh, I like this place.”

“I’ll give you a tour when we get back.  After you…”

* * *

Jeel’s hangover cure continued to work its wonders, and the final takeoff from Coruscant was a success.  Theirs was not the only ship.  Jedi and their padawan had been arriving throughout the night until the numbers were in the thousands.  Those who were unable to reach Coruscant in time were directed to rendezvous with the others at the uninhabited planet Tattoine.  This is where Jeel’s ship was headed now, carrying 200 Jedi with him.  His was an armed transport, the weapons being manned by Mara.  Prior to launch of the fleet, the Council had made several announcements, one of which being that personal messages between worlds were forbidden for the time being.  Critical messages were allowed to be conveyed, but only if sent by the Council’s communications team.  Mara was concerned about keeping Master Orn in the dark, but eventually the Council would allow communications of a less critical nature to resume.  Or so Jeel assured her.

For now the Council was not saying where the fleet would proceed after gathering at Tattoine.  Jeel knew, for he had spent the time after arriving in Coruscant as part of their war council, but he was keeping his silence as instructed.  The fleet’s departure from Coruscant commenced without incident for all.  Bold as the Sith could be, they were not about to attack the home planet of the Jedi.

* * *

Orn Taga found nothing in the Denaerian Caves on the other side of the mountains.  No signs of the Sith.  No more grisly clues from Omen, for which he was grateful.  His ground speeder came courtesy of the magistrate, who was letting him borrow equipment and vehicles as needed to assist.  Orn made it back into town about an hour before sunset, and brooded over a cup of keggo tea.  After finishing his spartan meal he would return the vehicle and have a conference with the magistrate.  Never had he encountered Sith so expertly hidden and so out in the open at the same time.  Why send such a blatant clue of his presence and then fade away so totally?  What did Omen want?  Or more to it, what did Omen want with him?

Orn finished his tea and small bowl of vegetables, then paid his bill and left.  On the way out, a girl who was often his server smiled and bid him farewell.  He nodded in reply but did not return the smile.

Orn made his way to the back of the restaurant where vehicles were parked.  First he smelled, then saw smoke coming from the middle of the lot, where he’d parked the speeder.  He kept his hand on his lightsaber’s handle while running to the source.  The smoke was coming from his speeder.  Or what was left of it.  A twisted wreck greeted him.  At first there was too much smoke to see details, but he pushed away most of it with his arms and kept it away with the Force.  Then he was able to see the cause more clearly.  Pieces of the speeder lay on the ground, cleanly severed by what could only be the searing blade of a lightsaber.

Orn unsheathed his blade and switched it on, spinning around to see three figures dressed in black, each one wielding their red beams of deadly light.

“Where is your master?” demanded Orn, keeping his blade pointed down.  If they wished to do battle, they would have to make the first move. “Why does he send you three instead of facing me himself?”

From the highest building above the speeder lot, Darth Omen sat cross-legged, and listened, and watched.

“Omen!” shouted Orn. “Show yourself!  Onky a coward sends minions to fight for him!”

As one, the dark apprentices rushed at Orn, lightsabers flashing in deadly synchronicity.  Orn had scarcely a split-second to spare between each attack, yet managed to avoid death.  He became a blur of motion interrupted by the crackles and sparks of clashing blades.  Sensing a tiny window of escape, he tensed and leapt between the Sith at the moment the opportunity came.  They were not to be deterred, and pursued and caught up to him again, this time surrounding him.  Two of his attackers jumped on top of a small transport, and Orn leaped up to land between them, slashing at the legs of one on the way.  The Sith jumped up just in time to avoid getting his limbs sliced off.  From there Orn managed to block and counter their every blow, but it occurred to him that he had lost track of the third Sith.  His concentration was too taxed to be able to seek him out with the Force.  Once he sensed an opportunity, he would push one of them away and jump to another transport.  Regrettably, two against one meant that they could join forces to push him back, intending for him to fall from the ship.  Orn did almost slip off as a foot teetered at the edge.  He could feel that the edge was rounded rather than a sharp corner.  Orn let them push him back a little bit more, just enough to start falling back; he pushed off the ship with enough force to send him flying up into a backward vault designed to land him onto another ship.

Now he knew where the other Sith was.  Mid-somersault, Orn felt something grab him by the waist, then hurl him with great strength much farther than he intended.  His flight was ended abruptly by a wall.  Orn felt his lightsaber drop from his hand on impact, and a second later, he followed it to the hard ground.  For too long he was not sure which way his body faced, whether prone on the ground, up or upside-down.  The ground seemed to spin, and his attempts to find his weapon with the Force were in vain thus far.

It took only a few seconds for Orn to pull himself upright against the wall.  He looked up to see his three attackers united and standing only a few metres away.  No doubt gloating over their victory before rushing in again to end him once and for all.  They would find a surprise when they did, for Orn was not about to give up.  He pushed his way to his feet, which they were oddly merciful enough to allow, and reached out with the Force to find his lightsaber – this time, successfully.  The blade was switched on with a swish and a hum, but Orn kept his arms out from his sides, the lightsaber pointed at the ground.  If the Sith had received traditional Jedi training, they might have thought his stance to be a sign of humility, of giving up.  But tradtional training or not, the Jedi master was on his feet again – ready to die.

The three moved quickly and as one, as they always had.  Then as one, they stopped in place and looked at one another, wild-eyed.  They looked one to the other, distracted by the wispy glow that began to form around each of them.  They held out their hands and watched the glow move back and forth along their arms.  Then one cried out as the glow began to leave his body and float towards the Jedi.  The others did likewise, for a wave of pain and nausea took them by surprise, driving each to his knees.  The largest Sith, and the one closest to Orn, fought best against the pain and began struggling to his feet, until Orn changed his focus and drove him back down.  He looked up to see the Jedi, his arms still outstretched, almost breathing in the energy that was being pulled from him and his comrades.  Not just energy – their very lifeforce.  But how?  What sort of creature was this that could drain the very Force itself from another and into himself?

The Sith shut their eyes tight and called upon every reserve of anger and hatred they could to increase their power, and found only fear as this increased the speed at which the Force abandoned them.  The first of the three, the strongest of them, would not accept death in this way.  Letting go of his anger and hatred, he called upon pure physical and mental strength to drag himself from the ground.  He pulled himself up with shaky arms and legs.  His lightsaber was still in his hand, and he switched it on.  The Jedi was so close he could not possibly miss, even if he could not see him except as an amorphous brown and beige shape.  The Sith brought his lightsaber up over his head, stepped forward, and brought it down in a quick stroke.  He no longer had the strength to stop his own forward motion, and fell to the ground just as the last bit of life left him.  Dead.  Dead and unable to see that he had failed to destroy the Jedi.

Orn, who had had his eyes closed for some time, sensed that there was no more of the Force to be taken from his enemies.  He opened his eyes and gazed impassively at the lifeless forms before him.  One of them had apparently made an attempt to attack, for he lay face down, his arms out in front, and one hand still clutching a now deactivated lightsaber.  Orn called the weapon to his hand.  He held it up as though studying it, then tucked it into a pocket in his cloak.  He then drew his own weapon and activated it.  He sensed that the Sith were truly dead, but it was imprudent to leave anything to chance.  In a split second, three Sith lay in six pieces.

Orn continued watching the lifeless Sith as though expecting them to reform and leap to their feet.  Of course they did not, and Orn caught a small smile creeping onto his face.  So near destruction himself, and yet he had killed them all with hardly any effort.  He had only needed to listen to a part of his mind and the Force that only one before him had done before.  The Jedi master G’Kwarr, once hailed as the most powerful Jedi ever.  It was he who had discovered the means to draw the Force itself from others.  It was he who had turned the tide in the worst of the wars against the Sith.  And then without explanation, G’Kwarr declared his power to be forbidden to all Jedi, a dictate that was echoed by the Council.  Even so, G’Kwarr’s padawan had written down the secret of this power, in case the Jedi ever truly needed it again.  Generations of Jedi were entrusted with the one sealed container that held the secret, and until now, none had been tempted to learn it.

Orn had made the decision to learn the power in the face of overwhelming odds.  His padawan and Jedi master comrade were gone; he was alone and surrounded by an old enemy and possibly an army of apprentices.  He learned the secret with no intention of actually using it, yet had needed it now.  Omen’s minions were about to destroy him, leaving the entire planet defenseless against their evil.  Yet now they lay dead, and the power of four now flowed through him.  Yes, a smile was creeping onto his face.  To see his enemy lying on the ground in pieces gave him great- 

Orn turned away and closed his eyes.  He took several slow, deep breaths as he fell into a calming meditation.  He had destroyed the Sith because he had no choice.  There was no pleasure in their defeat.  No pleasure.

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