The Planet of Ghosts: Storm of the Empire (Across the Stars VII)

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Nathan stood alone on the steps of the ruined Jedi Temple, the dunes of Ossus cascading before him. High above he could make out the dim shape of the Imperial Light Cruiser hanging in orbit. Even closer were the pristine white angles of the Shuttle soaring down to the planet, coming for them.

 

His mind raced. Why was the Empire here? Were they followed? Was the Empire tracking the Lucky Star? Had they led them right to a temple full of dangerous Jedi and Sith secrets?

 

Worst of all was the thought that Mayla was somehow involved. That he had been stupid to trust her, that she’d been playing him all along.

 

There wasn’t time to think about that now. It didn’t matter. What mattered was dealing with the situation.

 

Ozz and Eefo were safely away to the Searcher’s camouflaged outpost on the speeder bike. They couldn’t risk the Empire following them and finding the outpost, there was too much to lose there. That’s why Nathan had stayed behind: he was going to be the distraction. How very brave of him, he thought wryly. How was he going to find Mayla as a corpse?

 

He had a blaster pistol and one of Eefo’s storm conductors. It wasn’t one of his better ideas, but he could make this work.

 

Step one: draw their attention. It was crucial that he make them forget about the speeder bike. The process for this step was a little inelegant, but sometimes the obvious choice was the best one.

 

He flicked off the safety on Eefo’s blaster pistol. He couldn’t help but laugh. This was going to look absurd.

 

He raised the pistol, aimed at the shuttle, and pulled the trigger. He did this several more times, firing enough shots at the starship that it might draw its pilot’s attention. It was impossible to do any damage--especially from a few hundred feet away--but their sensors would notice, and he had to hope they’d choose the temple and the source of the blaster fire as a more interesting landing zone than wherever the speeder bike was headed.

 

It worked. He watched the shuttle nervously, but soon he could tell it had worked. Based on their flight path, they were coming in an arc towards him. He punched the air in triumph, but he didn’t have time to rest on his laurels. It was time for step two, and he had always been disciplined when it came to processes. That’s probably a part of why he had so few friends.

 

Eefo showed him how to operate her Conductor before she’d left. The Searchers used the charged chromium poles to attract Ossus’ giant storms and drain them for energy. Energy wouldn’t do him much good; all he needed was the storm.

 

He flicked the switch to reverse the charge on the pole, and left it planted in the ground. Nothing seemed to happen, and he looked at the sky anxiously. He guessed it took a few minutes.

 

The shuttle alighted a few hundred feet away, its wide wings closing gracefully with its dorsal fin, its ramp lowering with a hiss. Down walked an Imperial officer clad in gray, accompanied by a tall figure in black robes, and a squad of remnant stormtroopers.

 

It must’ve been the sight of the stormtroopers that did it. Suddenly it felt real. Those people could shoot and kill him. Nathan felt every fiber of his body push him to run and hide. But he had to wait for the storm.

 

The sky began to darken as the group of Imperials crossed the dunes toward the temple, creating a dramatic shadow over the flatlands. Lighting arced in the sky above, occasionally flashing down and striking the conductor, forcing Nathan to cover his eyes to avoid being blinded. The stormtroopers were close enough that he could make out the vents on their helmets. The storm was here, he had to move now.

 

He raised the blaster once more, and fired a bolt at the conductor.

 

 

 

With a dramatic burst of energy, it exploded, knocking him off his feet and into the temple atrium. He scrambled to his feet to find some sort of cover. He located the dead droid chassis on the staircase and clambered behind it, like a rabbit running to its warren.

 

Outside, things had become dangerous. Lighting, previously contained and directed toward the conductor, now had no conductor on which to focus. Bolts now struck the ground freely and often, crystalizing the orange sand. A flash of light incinerated a stormtrooper and created a rush of activity among the group, who dashed towards the temple doors for cover.

 

Lt. Syfot brushed himself off once indoors, surveying his squad for casualties. The Vu’othh stood by, disturbingly serene as always.

 

Syfot turned to scan the empty atrium. There was obviously someone here. Someone who would presently be killed.

 

 

 

“Come out, swine! Pathetic,” he sneered. “Troopers, find them!”

 

 

 

The stormtroopers, emblazoned with the Pyerce colors, fanned out into the ruins, E-11s raised.

 

Two approached the staircase where Nathan was hiding. Any second now and he’d be done for.

 

He turned to stare at the darkness of the tunnels. He had only just emerged from that pitch-black pit, no part of him wanted to go back down there. But he knew the way, at least better than the Imperials. It was his only chance to survive.

 

So he allowed himself to be pushed further inside the temple. He scrambled down the stairs, ignored the shout from the stormtroopers above, jumped to dodge the blaster bolts that flashed past, and ran at a sprint through one of the lower doorways. He would disappear into the dark.

 

 

 

Nathan ran, and turned, and ran, and turned, until he was sure he had taken a convoluted enough path that the stormtroopers wouldn’t easily be able to follow. It was silent now, in the horrible way that caves sometimes are, where the pressure of the rock above seems to bear down and muffle everything in a quiet dark.

 

The blaster, he realized, had fallen when the exploding conductor knocked him down. He had nothing to fight with.

 

He felt terribly alone.

 

He really didn’t want to die in the dark.

 

Thoughts of Mayla helped brighten his mood, and her smile appeared in his mind’s eye. But those thoughts were quickly soured by the possibility that she was behind the Imperials’ appearance. Instead, he remembered the only people he knew he trusted, or at least closest to it. He wished Ozz were with him; he’d be just as terrified, of course, but at least they could banter back-and-forth about the hellishness of the situation. At least he’d have a friend.

 

 

 

“You must be Nathan.”

 

 

 

His heart flew out of his chest and he stumbled to the ground. A soft blue glow touched the dusty ground under his fingers, and illuminated his arms as he raised them in defense.

 

 

 

“Woah!” he shouted. “What--”

 

 

 

A woman stood there, though what she was doing was closer to floating. She was ageless and calm, and smiled at him softly in a way that the caretakers at the orphanage had, when he looked particularly foolish and in need of rescue.

 

 

 

“I met your friend, Ozzamandes. We enjoyed a lovely conversation.”

 

 

 

Nathan starred in the way one does when encountered with a ghost, when they had previously believed ghosts to be entirely fictional. Despite his shock, he was able to mutter a skeptic, “Doesn’t sound like the Ozz I know.”

 

 

 

He climbed to his feet with some effort, suddenly afraid this glowing...whatever-it-was would give him away. And that he was going crazy.

 

 

 

The woman became suddenly urgent.

 

“Come with me, young one. They search for you. I can show you a way out.”

 

 

 

“Yes,” Nathan burst. “Please, please. Thank you!”

 

 

 

She smiled, and gestured for him to follow.

 

 

 

They hurried through the tunnels, away from the distant sounds of stormtrooper chatter and the barks of the officer.

 

 

 

“Dark spirits haunted these tunnels, until today. Your friend convinced me to banish them.”

 

 

 

Nathan wasn’t sure what to do with this information. “Wow,” is what he settled for.

 

 

 

“Come, it isn’t far now--” she turned suddenly, alarm flashing across her noble face. “What--? Such...evil,” she scowled. “That presence, do you sense it? But I banished--”

 

 

 

In a horrible dying of the light, as though her glow suddenly sickened and withered, the woman disappeared. Nathan was left alone, once more.

 

 

 

“Hello?” he called in a unnerved whisper. “W-Where did you go?”

 

 

 

He gasped and jumped. A facemask peered at him from the half-dark, a long-fingered hand outstretched.

 

 

 

“What did you do to her?” Nathan demanded, backing slowly away from this new figure.

 

 

 

The creature stepped slowly toward him, its black robes swishing against the rock-strewn ground.

 

 

 

“The spirit returned to the Force. Do not be afraid,” slithered a voice.

 

 

 

Nathan felt himself go still, bound by unseen, unfelt hands. He grunted and struggled, but the ghastly mask appeared in his vision, craning down at him. The pallid fingers pressed against his face.

 

 

 

“Come, speak to Absalom.”

 

 

 

Nathan came to with labored, frantic breaths, his body numb. He slumped against the stairs in the atrium, the crumbled edge digging into his back. Thunder rolled overhead, shaking the ground.

 

The creature from the tunnels stood watching him, but it was the Imperial officer who now filled his sight. He grinned like a madman, the sort of grin only moments away from killing you.

 

 

 

“What...the--” Nathan managed. Lt. Syfot had no patience for blubbering.

 

 

 

“You, boy. I came here for something, and--congratulations--you are in the fortunate position of giving it to me.” He cast a glance to the Vu’othh, saying quietly, “If my...consultant, is to be believed.” He then straightened and said, once again in his loudest, most in-charge tone of voice, “You seem to know these ruins well. I suspect your presence here indicates familiarity with the subject of my search. Yes, yes...I’d wager good money on that. You little leech.”

 

 

 

“Uh,” Nathan said, raising an eyebrow. “ I’m sorry, but...what the krif are you going on about?”

 

 

 

Syfot turned and whacked him painfully across the face.

 

 

 

“Shut your mouth, until I order otherwise.”

 

 

 

Hanging his head and wincing in pain, Nathan considered that maybe mouthing off hadn’t been the right move. One of his teeth felt loose.

 

 

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of time for you to talk soon. Garel, Targonn, Yavin VI...you have been busy, haven’t you?”

 

 

 

No way, Nathan thought. He couldn’t know that was them.

 

 

 

“Yavin is, naturally, the odd one out. But to lose two spies in the same sector, in the same week? These, I am sure, were you. And from there you picked up the trail, found your way to the temples of Yavin’s moon, and of course, to here. How do I know this? Because I am brilliant, you little fool. Hit him!”

 

 

 

Before Nathan could react, a stormtrooper stepped forward and slammed the butt of his blaster carbine into his gut, knocking the air out of him. He doubled over, his side aching.

 

 

 

“And if you started on Targonn, well, I wonder which of our agents it was you encountered first…the girl?”

 

 

 

Nathan felt any number of sudden, powerful emotions. He did his best to keep all of them away from his face. He went slack, diligently avoiding Syfot’s gaze.

 

Syfot apparently found this amusing. He leaned down until they were inches apart, a smile toying at the corner of his mouth. There were scars across his face, subtle ones, ones he had tried to conceal. The violence in his eyes was overwhelming up close. It was as though a wild animal were trying to play dress up as a gentleman.

 

 

 

“Ahhh, the girl. Quite the beauty, but, as I understand, it’s only skin-deep. You must know her as...Mayla, perhaps? Oh, my poor boy. Did she put you up to this? Is she why you’re here?” He tisked sympathetically, and Nathan wanted so badly to hit him. “Then she is truly cruel indeed. Now, I admire a little imagination--let no one say differently--but most of our agents accomplish Moff Pyerce’s goals in more traditional ways. I’m not sure I approve. But…” his grin widened, as did his eyes. “I cannot complain about the results. A most useful tool you’ve proven to be, indeed. You’ve rooted out our weak links beautifully! Congratulations are in order.”

 

 

 

Syfot started to clap, then looked around to his squad. “Come now, congratulate our young friend! Quite the hero.”

 

 

 

Hesitantly, the Stormtroopers began to join in the applause. Some of them added mocking words or cheers.

 

The Vu’othh just watched.

 

Nathan stared at the ground defiantly, feeling utterly defeated. What if it was true? It wasn’t unlikely. Of course he’d been played. Of course this had all been for nothing.

 

 

 

Finally, Syfot had had his fun. He gestured for them to stop, and like that, the room was silent but for the sound of thunder. His grin disappeared. He grabbed Nathan’s shoulder and his fingers dug in, his face so close Nathan could smell his breath.

 

 

 

“Now, your chance to be truly useful. Tell me, boy, what you know. Where is Balaam’s Heart?”

 

 

 

As if on queue, the sounds of starships rose over the peals of thunder to reach their ears. The stormtroopers rushed to the doorways, and raised their blasters. Syfot stared at Nathan a moment more, running his tongue over his teeth before releasing him, and turning towards his men.

 

 

 

“What is this? What’s going on!”

 

 

 

Nathan knew, and he managed a weak smile.

 

The Searchers had arrived.

 

 

 

“Secure my shuttle! Go! You, contact the Rigorous for fighter support!” He turned last to the Vu’othh, whom he stared at as though wondering if it was worth it. When he finally spoke, it was painfully polite. “If it pleases you, any aid would be welcome.”

 

 

 

The Vu’othh bowed its head slightly, and Syfot was glad to leave off there.

 

Nathan heard the scream of TIE fighters and the sounds of battle outside. He was pulled to his feet; they were going for the shuttle.

 

They left the temple for the diminished light of the storm-cloud sky, lighting striking with no delay. The Searchers, he saw, were on speeder bikes and on foot. Their freighters were not warships, and were only useful as transports. The stormtroopers had kept the Searchers at bay, engaging them where they’d taken cover behind the rocks. The lightning was a constant danger, and struck unpredictably around the dunes.

 

Nathan was pulled out into the open, and he saw the open ramp of the shuttle waiting for him. Imprisonment, torture...Imperial victory.

 

He heard a buzz from his left, and the stormtrooper let go of his arm. A speeder bike came hurtling towards them. Blaster bolts rang past his ears, downing one of the stormtroopers, and he felt someone grab his harness. All of a sudden he was being dragged behind the bike, the sand scraping against his backside. Someone grabbed his arms, tried to help him onboard.

 

 

 

“Gotcha, kid! Not bad for a guy who’s never fished!”

 

 

 

“Ozz!” Nathan grinned. He grabbed the bike as tightly as he could with both arms and legs. Eefo was driving. “Eefo! Thank you!”

 

 

 

As selfless and heroic as their mad dash to Nathan had been, it was bound to cost them something. That’s when the bike lost control. It was struck by blaster fire in the charge, lost one of its balance pylons, and went spinning out from under them. They all had the sense to bail, jumping and rolling roughly into the sand as the bike went smashing into the sand, bouncing, losing parts with every impact.

 

The battle raged around them. Syfot and the Vu'othh passed by, making their way to the shuttle when step 3 of Nathan's plan miraculously came to pass: a stray bolt of lightning came down in the exact spot where the shuttle had been landed. Superheated molecules made impact with engine fuel, resulting in a blinding flash. A spectacular blue explosion threw sparks and metal out of the left side of its hull, and the entire thing fell unceremoniously onto its side.

 

 

 

Syfot and his entourage stopped in their tracks, staring at what had been their plan of escape.

 

 

 

"No!" Syfot shouted. He turned to survey the battlefield, and that was when he spotted Nathan, Eefo, and Ozz lying a few meters away. The three climbed to their feet, and a stand-off ensued.

 

 

"Contact the Rigorous," barked the Lieutenant. "They must send everything! All our forces! Crush these insects!" He ordered, before turning to Nathan with fury in his eyes. "WHERE IS THE HEART, BOY! WHERE IS IT!" He screamed, his dignity long-forgotten.

 

 

 

"You'll never get it!" Nathan taunted, unable to resist the chance to rub it in. "You're a failure! You're pathetic! And you'll never get what you want. I'm going to take it from you." Nathan glanced at Ozz. "We're gonna take it from you."

 

 

 

Ozz had enough to worry about already. He had no axe to grind, and definitely no desire to provoke the near-rabid officer any further. "No, no, just you! You're gonna take it from him. I'll just...eh, watch."

 

 

There was a wave of noise from behind them. The Searchers made a push forward, giving the Imperials no choice but to retreat. Abay, newly restored to his former glory, led the charge.

 

 

 

Syfot turned to run. "I'll find you! I'll find the heart! You'll rue this day, boy! You'll wish you'd never crossed my path!"

 

 

 

One of his troopers pulled him into safety behind the wreckage of the shuttle, while the Searchers similarly enveloped Nathan, Ozz, and Eefo into their own battle line.

 

 

 

"Quite a mess!" Exclaimed Abay. "But nothing we can't handle."

 

 

 

Eefo looked at the Duros with barely restrained hope. "Scriptist, are you..."

 

 

 

"Back?" He smiled. "I certainly am." He looked at Nathan. "Did you find what you need, Son?"

 

 

 

"Yes! Once this fight's over, we'll go--"

 

 

 

Abay cut him off with a shake of the head. "No. If it concerns something worthy of the Empire's interest, you must go immedietly. Take one of our speeder's back to your ship. We'll handle these stragglers!"

 

 

 

Nathan struggled with that, but Ozz knew there was no time to waste. "We'll take you up on that, gramps!"

 

 

 

Eefo turned to them, her eyes serious. "I'm really free?"

 

 

 

"Yeah, I meant what I said," Nathan replied.

 

 

 

"Then I'm staying with my people," she said firmly, with another look at Abay as though she couldn't believe it. "I'll make things right. Thank you. Don't let the Heart fall into the wrong hands."

 

 

 

Nathan gave her a wry look, considering their previous conversations. "Are there right hands?"

 

 

 

"There are wrong hands," the Rodian replied bluntly, and she pointed at the waiting speeder. "Now go!"

 

 

 

They hustled away, ducked low to avoid blaster fire. Abay called out once more before they sped away.

 

 

 

"Take heart! Find hope! And may the Force be with you!"

 

 

 

Nathan sensed a funny feeling in himself, in response to those words. A sense of kinship.

 

 

 

"You too!" He called back, and, after checking to make sure Ozz was strapped in behind him, he gunned the speeder's accelerator. They'd get to the Lucky Star and get off this planet. They had to start translating Balaam's writings, and find the next clue, and they had to hurry, before the Empire could catch up.

 

There was no time to waste.

 

 

 

The battle raged on in Nathan and Ozz's absence. The Searchers pressed their advantage, but ultimately, they were unprepared for the sheer might of the Imperial reinforcements. They fought bravely, but TIE Fighters and the arrival of three more squads of Stormtroopers proved too much to endure.

 

When they had woken up that day, only a few of their most sensitive had sensed the coming tragedy. Most of them never saw it coming.

 

Robed warriors lay still on the orange dunes, white-clad troopers walking among them and prodding the bodies with their guns.

 

Only a few remained alive, including Abay and Eefo. Van Konn died in the fighting. The survivors sat defeated in a circle, some mourned aloud.

 

 

 

Lt. Syfot, now bandaged for a minor blaster wound, commanded the situation. The Vu'othh was at his side.

 

 

 

"The Duros is strong with the force," the Vu'othh told him. "He is dangerous. He must not live."

 

 

 

Syfot listened and considered the Scriptist with an appraising eye. Abay sat kneeling, his head bowed in solemn sorrow.

 

 

 

Syfot made his decision. "Which of you knows the most of things like...this temple?" He asked the circle.

 

 

 

Slowly, Abay looked up. "I do."

 

 

 

"And have you any pupils?"

 

 

 

Eefo struggled to her feet, her head held high. "I have had the honor of learning all he knows!" Then the fire entered her eyes and her voice. "You sick, poor man. You lack knowledge and respect. Your life is a withered one."

 

 

 

Syfot sneered. "Shoot the old man."

 

 

 

Eefo's eyes went wide.

 

 

 

"No!"

 

 

 

A shout went up from the Searchers as the Stormtroopers took aim. They shot Abay, again, and again, until he'd fallen over in the sand, his body smoking. This only happened for a moment, for his body soon disappeared, fading away into nothing.

 

 

 

This disturbed Syfot, but to the eyes of those around he was only thrown off for an instant.

 

 

 

"Bring the Rodian!" He commanded. "The rest will pay for their defiance: you know what to do, Sergeant!"

 

 

 

The squad of Stormtroopers trained their blasters on the defeated Searchers. Many of the robed scholars and warriors reacted bravely. Others bargained.

 

Troopers dragged Eefo away to a waiting transport, as she struggled and raged.

 

 

 

"No! They have done nothing wrong! Leave them be! LEAVE THEM BE!"

 

 

 

Her cries were muffled by the ship, and the rest of the Searchers joined their fallen brethren in a hail of blasterfire.

 

When the Imperials were gone, and the Searchers safe at the outpost found them, rites would be performed to return their spirits to the living Force. Each one of the dead would be well mourned and dearly missed.

 

 

 

Already concerned with something else, like a child quickly bored by a toy, Lt. Syfot shook his head in unsettled frustration.

 

 

 

"The boy has our lead on the Heart. Surely he's escaped by now...blast it all to hell. What do you think, Vu'othh?"

 

 

 

The tall creature had watched the execution with passive interest. It now turned to the Leuitenant with a wave of deference and spoke in its persistently unaffected tone.

 

 

 

"Cast away your fears, Absalom," it said, voice filtered by its mask. "The child will continue the hunt as the unknowing servant of the cause. You need only go where you know he must appear."

 

 

 

Syfot thought about where this might be. His eyes grew wide with understanding.

 

 

 

"Back to Mustafar. To the house you first spoke of, yes?"

 

His tone turned threatening. "Unless he already has that part of the puzzle. If I do as you say, we might very well waste time and lose the trail."

 

 

 

"Waste not your time. Send this one, Absalom. This one submits to your will."

 

 

 

Syfot considered it, enjoying the idea not the least because it meant a great distance between him and this vile thing.

 

"Very well. Return to the Mustafar system. Wait for the boy there."

 

 

 

"As you desire," said the Vu'othh, and it bowed. Tall and thin as it was, even inclined it towered over the Lieutenant. Another reason he kept their conversations brief.

 

 

 

Syfot turned to survey the battlefield once more, his gaze idle and passive, and entirely unemotional.

 

That is, except for pride.

 

The sight of the many bodies, their robed forms at odd angles and in crumpled positions, made him smile. He so enjoyed a lack of loose ends.

 

 

 

"Back to the Rigorous, men!" He announced. "Time is of the essence, and I have a guest to host."

 

 

Done