15 - Tatooine Haunts

A small, furry Jawa hand gently closed around the grip of her Ion blaster. She was on her own, scavenging for another three days until the ‘crawler came by, and she needed this food. Breathing slowly and steadily, she took aim at the gathering of desert scurriers in the shadows ahead. When the majority of the little creatures were in range, she gently tapped the trigger and a blue haze of energy was flung out of the muzzle, washing over them. 

Five of the nine fell to the ground dead. The remaining four, which had been shielded by the others, ran away and hid. Smoke rose from the less fortunate ones as she came out from behind her rock, holstering the blaster and muttering to herself as she set to collecting her dinner, dropping them one by one into a small sack. 

As she did, the rock beside her popped. Fragments of stone and sparks showered her, immediately followed by the report of a rifle. The stone popped several more times as she dove behind the rock for cover, rolling into the sand and cursing in her native tongue. Sandpeople, she thought to herself. Her hearts were beating hard now as she rolled over and crawled forward to get a look at where the fire was coming from. Glowing eyes peered out from beneath the darkness of her hood as she scanned the top of the cliff where it met the darkening sky. Nothing.  

Scrutinizing the ridgeline again, she caught some brief movement where the rocks met the sky. A tusken raider poked its spiked head up as she watched, the reddish orange sunslight glinting off one of the metal eyepieces. The tusken slowly moved its’ rifle back and forth over the stone, staring through the sight and taking aim on her general area as it sought to find her again among the rocks. A second tusken beside him watched as he fired two shots, which ricocheted in a shower of sparks and debris on the stone above her. 

He grunted, working to get a better firing angle, leaning out over the edge of the rock . . . and right into the center of Danz’ targeting reticle. The seasoned Sandtrooper watched as the raider moved its’ head squarely into the center of his sight imaging. He gently squeezed back on the trigger of his rifle, releasing a bolt of energy which burst through the Tusken’s head. The second raider jumped, roaring one final time in surprise then slumped face first across the flat rock on the ridge from the second blast it never saw coming. 

The little Jawa cautiously raised herself to her knees, freshly caught dinner in hand, peering from behind her rock. She looked over to where the blast had come from. A kneeling stormtrooper was rising to his feet, powering off his rifle and slinging it over his shoulder as he disappeared up the boarding ramp of an Imperial shuttle. Her eyes glowed brighter as she instantly daydreamed of stripping and salvaging the beautiful ship. She came back to reality as she remembered that she was alive because of its owner. 

A moment later, Danz reappeared, emerging from within the ship with illuminators to mark the descending path into the caverns beneath the hillside. The hatch to the ship closed as he moved away, starting back up the cliff toward the tiny B’Omarr shrine. The little Jawa clutched her bag of food and scampered off toward a small cave to prepare her meal, glancing over her shoulder once or twice to make sure no more Tuskens were watching, and to have another longing look at the shuttle. 

 

*

 

The air in the depths of the ancient wreckage was deathly still. Light filtered in from ripped openings in the hull far above. As Ddraig stepped off the last rung of a durasteel ladder to the floor, Nadon turned and continued to lead us further along the gentle slope into the awaiting darkness. He took several steps beyond the light, and just as my thermal imaging kicked in, I heard a woooshing sound fly past me on the left, then on the right. I jerked in reaction, looking to see what it was, and began to notice a faint glow in the room, emanating from a dozen points around us. Nadon was still ahead of us, with arms raised up, hands open and extended, and silhouetted by the glow coming from . . . trees. 

I stepped further into the room and pulled off my bucket, as did the others, taking in what we were seeing. As I lowered the helmet away from my face, several more woooshing sounds flew past me and disappeared into the darkness. The glow from the trees steadily grew brighter until we could clearly see that the glow came not from the trees, but from small creatures clinging to their trunks. The arrangement of trees was circular around the floor of the room, and arranged at evenly spaced intervals up the walls and across the catwalks near the roof. At their bases were large, clear spherical watering domes filled with the roots and sealed around the bottom of the trunks to prevent moisture from escaping. 

Cables crossed the room above us, stretched tight side to side at varying heights. Nadon stood in front of a small bench with a coil of cable on the lower shelf, and a several small items strewn across the top. Danz came walking up behind us, and dropped an illuminator to the ground next to several medium sized storage crates as he pulled off his own helmet. 

Nadon, with eyes closed in concentration, lowered his hands and laid them out flat in the air, spreading his long fingers just above the surface of the bench. As he did, the woooshing sounds streaked past us and a half dozen remote seekers flew in from the recesses of the darkness, silently whisking past and coming to hover just above the Ithorian’s hands, rotating ever so slightly. 

Nadon opened his eyes and turned to us, gesturing with his arm, “Ben Kenobi’s Jedi training arena.” 

 

* * *

 

 Vader lay on a cold table. His entire body flinched, and he reflexively closed his mechanical hand tightly around the rail along the table’s edge as the med ‘droid raised the control box away from the front of the bio suit, slipping the electrodes and tubes abruptly out of his chest. It immediately inserted a temporary replacement breather unit into his damaged lungs as the malfunctioning control box was taken away.

The flesh around the insertion site burned in the cool air. His glorious, seething power, his ability to wield the dark side and bend it to his will as he had enjoyed on Coruscant and Mustafar was now as illusive and impotent as seeds scattered in the hot Tatooine winds of his youth. While he was still the most powerful of the Sith Lords to date, the chosen one would never realize the true depth of his abilities, never indulge in the intoxicating, sweet syrup of ultimate power he had but tasted.

While his Force abilities had been heightened and sharpened as a result of his injuries, the ability to channel it and command his cybernetic limbs, as he would have with living tissue, was a constant struggle. Mastery over his new limbs, and pushing them beyond their calculated operating parameters required incredible focus, and routinely resulted in the need for painful re-fittings that were little more than recurring reminders of the now-distant pain that drove him to the darkness. Reminders of that horrible, cold fear.

He gasped as the ‘droid coldly removed the temporary unit and slipped the tubes of a new control unit deep into the spongy flesh of his lungs. His teeth clenched tight and eyes squeezed shut beneath the hard, dark angles of his mask as he fought to escape the searing pain. Reaching into the energy of the Force, he wrapped himself in dark side energy as the ‘droid secured the bindings and sealed the edges of the entry site into his skin with infection resistant bacta adhesives.

The pain began to dissipate, and he regained his focus on what now lay ahead. The past few weeks had been chaotic and infuriating. Mon Mothma’s broadcasted speech against the Emperor had not been cut short, and now she was a fugitive, and enemy of the Empire. 

Dedra Meero, in the ISB, had been dealt with for allowing the egregious breach of security by Lonnie Jung, and the recklessly mishandled attempt to capture Jung’s rebel contact, Luthen Rael, without authorization. Due to the incredibly sensitive leak because of her actions, she was subsequently arrested, stripped of her rank, and sent to an Imperial labor prison. 

Jung and Rael were both dead. The only loose end to escape was the concierge at Rael’s gallery, Kleya Marki. Vader could only assume she was working with and informing the rebellion, but her whereabouts had not been confirmed. 

The successful test of the Death Star at Jedha had fueled the urgency behind the rebel attack of the data repository on Scarif, with Galen Erso’s daughter Jyn successfully infiltrating the base and beaming out the detailed plans for the battle station. Luckily, during the battle, both she and her rebel band, along with Krennic were killed, containing that trail of espionage. 

And then the surprise return of Obi-Wan after so long, but his old master’s death had not secured the safety of Bail Organa’s daughter as he had hoped. The Millennium Falcon had been allowed to leave the station with a transponder hidden onboard. When they slip out of hyperspace, a trace marker will send back their position, and they’ll be instantly located, Tarkin will see. 

The Princess and her rescuers might have made off with the plans, but as soon as the Death Star is positioned, their insignificant Rebellion will be eliminated, and the age-old Alderaanean cries for a return to the democracy of The Old Republic will finally be silenced, as the last of the royal house is snuffed out. 

The old man had died in vain. He should not have come back.

* * *

 

Nadon sat on one of the storage crates watching, as a blindfolded Obi Wan balanced on a cable high above the arena floor. Four seekers whizzed past and around him firing random blasts as they flitted about. The blue flash of his lightsaber moved at blurring speed, deflecting the blasts away as he continued his walk across the taut wire.

“There must be a way!” said the Ithorian.

One of the seekers abruptly slammed into the ankle of Obi-Wan’s boot, knocking it clear off the cable. His weight-shifting recovery was immediate, maintaining his balance with the remaining planted foot, “Blast!”

He lowered the lightsaber in front of his body, deflecting several bolts as the ramming seeker circled the room preparing to dive toward his one remaining planted foot. Kenobi reflexively raised the crate Nadon was seated on from the floor below as it streaked toward him. The Ithorian grabbed on to the sides to keep from falling off, as the crate flew up between the Jedi and the seeker. The small orb slammed into the side of the crate and fell away to the sand below. 

Kenobi deactivated his blade and removed his blindfold, maintaining a firm Force-hold on the crate. He clipped his saber hilt back on his belt as he returned the displaced foot to the cable, and gently lowered the startled Nadon back to the floor. The remaining seekers whisked away from him and regrouped just above the bench on the ground below.

As the crate settled back to the sand, Nadon slipped off and moved away. Kenobi jumped off the wire landing with a spray of sand on the ground nearby. 

With a distressed look on his face, and blindfold in hand, he turned to Nadon, “Over the years he has allowed me to meet the boy, and even bring him things occasionally, but I cannot force Owen to comply. I know the need for Luke’s training, but I will not revisit the paths of my failure, I cannot do that with him. I tried to deliver Anakin’s lightsaber to Luke once before and Owen wouldn’t hear of it. After that he restricted my access to Luke, and has the boy thinking his father was a navigator on some spice freighter. I was able to shepherd him and one of his young friends back to safety after their Dewback threw them off in the canyons and ran away.” His gaze was now far away, watching a future of what may or may not come to be that was fully in motion. “When the time is right, and the will of the Force has revealed itself, I will be waiting to reveal more information about his father.”

The Hammerhead closed his eyes, and exhaled, “Dangerous this course of action is.”

Obi-Wan turned to face the exiled high priest, his smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes, “You sound very much like an old friend. Point taken. However, the information I disclose to the boy will be that of a very specific point of view. Timing of the revelation is critical. He needs to know that his father was an incredible pilot, and a Jedi Knight who fought alongside me during the Clone Wars . . . that his father was deceived and destroyed by the dark side . . . by Darth Vader. Revenge is not a Jedi trait, but hopefully it will sufficiently serve to fuel his desire to train and fight against Vader and the Emperor. He doesn’t yet need to know that his father still lives.”

Obi Wan stared off into the darkness. “The pain of that revelation is one that must be handled very delicately.” Closing his eyes, he now saw images from the past, of his dying master Qui-Gon, and remembered defeating Maul in the duel that followed. He had stepped dangerously across into the darkness, allowing his anger to flow. He lowered his head, ashamed at the memory. “Any trust Luke may have in me could be shattered. Unless he is prepared properly to deal with the potential darkness that lies within us all, everything could be lost.”

* * *

  

We stepped forward, fanning out into the warm, amber glow as we took in the scale of the makeshift Jedi Academy. Nadon walked beside Topolev as he moved into the middle of the arena floor and looked up to stare at the trees and small creatures wrapped around their branches, “Ysalimari?” 

The Ithorian nodded and kept walking, “Yes, to shield the ripples in the Force that training would have created.” 

We had all heard the stories of the secretive Jedi ways, the training facilities within the Temple, and the rigorous demands involved in mastering control of that flowing energy field that all living things created. Danz moved past me, dropping another illuminator into the sand as he stepped beneath the stretched cables overhead. I turned back to get a closer look at the bench. 

On top of it were tools from various worlds, a small thermal blast furnace, dirtied abrasive polishing cloths, and several tubular devices of varying sizes laid out on a draped cloth. I reached out and picked up the smallest device, rolling it over in my hand and wiping off a fine layer of dust. It was very simple, and I believe had originally been part of a thrust sequencing unit from a small ship. Somehow, though, I didn’t think it would ever see service as a thrust sequencer again.  

One end was now sealed with a cap. The length of the shaft had been fitted with a series of traction grips, and a button set into the handle. What appeared to be the business end of the device culminated in a small concave dish, with an emitter of some type mounted down inside. I held it out upright and pressed the button. I felt a subtle, shuddering vibration in the palm of my hand as a shimmering blue blade sprang up from the emitter, extending to a length of about 2 feet. 

The others whirled around, the blue light glistening in highlights across my armor. The coursing feel of the energy rippling from the handle was familiar, but the abbreviated blade length was puzzling. I knew lightsabers, but never with a blade so short. I swept the blade back and forth, the low, rumbling static humming as I did so.  

Nadon came over to me as the others gathered around. “Training sabers.”, he said. “Ben built these for training Jedi of all ages.” He reached for the saber, and I released it to him.  “They’re strong enough to deflect a low grade energy burst, but weak enough to only deliver a mild burning sensation” and he swiped the blade across his free arm, with no damage. “Full intensity blades would not be a good idea for training younglings” he said, as he snapped off the lightsaber. 

He placed the hilt back on the bench and his hand drifted over the others. “There are several here of varying sizes and diameters, to accommodate the growth of the child’s hand and increasing ability levels. All of these are training sabers. The student, or Padawaan as the Jedi call them, must ultimately build their own lightsaber after passing their trials, as one last symbol of attaining their full Jedi Knight status. That’s what the little blast furnace was for, cooking and refining the Kyber crystals to a pure enough state for use in building these.”  

Felth stepped closer to the table, his eyes moving across the bench, taking note of the sabers laid out across the cloth. Rogue picked up several small square devices from the benchtop, “Holoprojectors?” 

Nadon nodded, blinking his tired eyes, “He created holographic images of himself moving through classic fighting styles to use as a training tool for the Padawaans. As it turns out, Ben was the only one who ever used this place.” 

Felth looked up, “You mean no Jedi were trained here?” 

Nadon nodded again, “That is correct.” 

The trooper looked annoyed, “You expect us to believe that this old guy was hiding out here since the Old Republic fell and he never trained a single Jedi?” 

The Ithorian refugee stared back at him and repeated his answer, “Yes, that is correct. It was his intention for this place to be a concealed beacon, and to build a safe haven open to any surviving Jedi or possible Jedi candidates, but the rapidly growing influence of the Empire and the fear of repercussions kept anyone from ever coming forward to use it. He told me that during his travels he had discovered a secret network referred to as ‘The Path’ on worlds across the galaxy. It consisted of hidden routes allowing Jedi safe access to off-world escape if necessary. In some cases, even disenfranchised Imperials helped keep ‘The Path’ a hidden and viable pipeline. After several years, he resigned himself to the fact that even if there were others of his Order out there, their paths were unlikely to cross. He used this facility to meditate and keep himself active, but it was never used for instruction, as its design was intended. Citizens of the galaxy eventually came to realize that the Jedi had not abandoned them, but had in fact been the first victims of deception, destroyed by the Emperor because they stood in his way. By the time that realization occurred, there were no Jedi left.” 

Felth drew his blaster,  flipping on the power switch and pointing it at the Hammerhead, “I should kill you right here for that kind of treasonous talk.” 

It was a fantastic show, completely fabricated to show a loyalty to the Empire that Felth no longer possessed. The Ithorian stared blankly back at the trooper without flinching, “I am old, and no threat to you. My death will not serve the Empire, but if that is my fate, kill me.” 

Rogue put a hand on the muzzle of Felth’s blaster, smoothly forcing it down toward the ground. “That won’t be necessary, trooper.” He had killed more Ithorians on Belliran V than he cared to remember, and didn’t need the blood of another on his hands. “I have searched the holonet databases searching for ‘Ben Kenobi’ and turned up nothing of interest except Kenobi Freightways, headquartered on Bakura.” 

Nadon hesitated, but he knew Kenobi was dead, he had felt the passing and his connection with Kenobi shift as his friend had become one with the Force. “You will likely find official record of him as General Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

  

*

 

It had been a long day, and we were finally settling in for the night. Nadon had given us new information for searching about Kenobi, but that would keep. Two of the three silvery moons orbiting the planet now illuminated the sands under a gleaming canopy of stars as Rogue closed the cover on his holonet field pack. The findings of our search to date had successfully transmitted. Everything we had uncovered about the old Jedi, BoShek, Momaw Nadon, the Lars’, and Luke Skywalker was now waiting for the Dark Lord’s review. 

Vader needed to be kept abreast of the unfolding search and any new findings about Ben (Obi-Wan) Kenobi. The smallest detail might seem insignificant, but could prove monumental in the recovery of the stolen data and the apprehension of the last Jedi and his apprentice. While it was of top importance, we still needed more detailed information about this Jedi Training Arena before it was officially reported. 

The chilled night was a sharp contrast to the blasting heat of the day. Rogue reclined back against the rock behind him and breathed in the cool air as his black thermal body glove kicked in beneath the plating of his armor, sensing a dip in skin temperature. It was now warming him using energy captured from the twin suns. 

The trip back to Mos Eisley would be a long one, and he was tired from the events of the long day. They had the meeting with the moisture farmers in the morning, and being around the Hammerhead unnerved him quite a bit . . . too many memories of Belliran V, but he decided they would camp here for the night.  

 

* * * 

 

Continue in Chapter 16