“I’ll describe scenes I’ve seen, and you’ll help me interpret them,” I proposed.
In truth, my main objective today was to finally convince the still internally uncertain younger baron that he was joining exactly the sort of grand adventure he belonged in, thereby completing his recruitment.
Normally, specialists of his caliber were brought in only after one had already founded a cult, faction, or gang of their own, something that still lay in my future.
People like him did not simply fall into your lap.
At the same time, this conversation would allow me to verify his competence.
It probably sounded ridiculous coming from a twelve-year-old boy, but Vuz took me seriously enough.
Perhaps because he owed me his life and knew he could lose it again at any moment.
“Three people, or rather three delegations, meet somewhere secluded on an uninhabited planet and sign a Declaration of Rebellion.
All three appear official.
No military uniforms.
Long speeches about fighting for everything good and righteous.” Kazm leaned back in his chair while I hoped I had described the formation of the Rebel Alliance from the Galen Marek games accurately enough for my purposes, and that I had not mistaken the version of the universe I had landed in.
Even if I had, it would not change much.
Still, I was interested in hearing what a graduate of three galactic universities had to say.
“Senatorial opposition,” the native of the Tapani Sector finally concluded.
“Most likely survivors of the old Delegation of 2000.
The organizers and financiers of the event.
There are so few of them because the security services have already eliminated the rest, or the others abandoned the cause.
These ones are probably operating illegally and have therefore been forced into active underground action.
They aren’t prepared to get blood on their own hands, but they have money for those who are willing to do it for them.
Most likely this is the very beginning of a conspiracy.” I nodded and continued the exercise.
One after another, I described the establishment of the base within the Great Temple, the capture of Leia’s ship, the meeting aboard the Death Star before Alderaan’s destruction, the award ceremony after Yavin, and the Battle of Hoth.
As Vuz became increasingly invested, he correctly deciphered roughly seventy percent of what was happening.
Sometimes he approached events from angles I never would have considered as someone who had only watched the films and read books and comics.
I had never once stopped to wonder who financed the Alliance to Restore the Republic or organized recruitment efforts for it.
“I don’t understand, why there are so many Mon Calamari in your vision,” Kazm declared after finishing his first bottle.
“They weren’t especially rebellious during the Clone Wars.
They don’t have major military traditions or some famous shipbuilding school.
I’d sooner believe the Quarren would fill that role.” I spread my hands helplessly and exchanged a glance with Reva, who was still listening attentively as our dialogue gradually transformed into a monologue from an aristocrat finally indulging his favorite pastime: analyzing galactic political power structures instead of enduring the routine misery of life on the outskirts of Tatooine.
Winking at her, I turned back to the increasingly animated nobleman.
“I’ve got it!” he suddenly exclaimed, nearly leaping from his chair.
“That’s why the Mon Calamari are necessary!
It’s classic Alderaanian political doctrine.
A lightning rod in case of failure, a distraction to draw attention away from the actual center of command.” That strategy had not exactly saved Alderaan in the original timeline.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
Meanwhile Dak continued existing just fine until Darth Krayt showed up much later.
Then again, who was I to judge the political theories of this galaxy?
And besides, no one had ever accounted for the Death Star before.
“Let’s assume all of this is true,” said the fugitive aristocrat, which effectively meant he was almost convinced.
“Then I’m certain Bail Organa is involved.
Quite possibly the primary sponsor of the entire operation.
And knowing him, he isn’t prepared for the dramatic escalation of violence that the civil war we begin will inevitably produce.” The younger Baron Vugaritakon De’Arkab XVII Min-Go Kazumoto was mine completely.
People like him simply could not resist adventures of this scale, even while trapped in a backwater hellhole like Tatooine.
…..
Jerec beheaded the last militia fighter who attempted to shoot him and immediately leaped forward, slipping out of the corridor and away from the thermal detonator the rebel had activated moments before his death.
Crashing into a chamber deep within the ancient pyramid, he deflected a blaster bolt aimed directly at him and then sprang aside to avoid a shot from a disintegrator that nearly ended his life.
He landed in the center of a vast hall.
Upon a raised platform sat a Thisspiasian in meditation.
The remnants of the militia surrounded him, armed with whatever they could find, from vibro-pikes to disintegrators.
On the opposite side of the chamber, a lightsaber duel raged.
Clad in black armor, the Sith Lord was steadily driving back a Weequay who wielded a red lightsaber of his own.
The Miraluka had already realized he was dealing with a highly unusual Jedi.
Since when did a former Jedi Master associate with a known servant of Count Dooku who had supposedly died years ago?
Jerec hurled his lightsaber at the head of the rebel who had just tried to kill him with a disintegrator and charged into the militia ranks.
While the spinning lightsaber carved a bloody path through the room, the Inquisitor kicked a Duros carrying a vibro-pike directly in the face, stunning him.
He seized the weapon from the alien’s hands and drove it through both the Duros and the human behind him who had been trying to raise a blaster against the former Jedi.
Catching his returning lightsaber, the Inquisitor reflected incoming blaster bolts back into the chest of a Bith who had attempted to shoot him in the back and continued his assault into the heart of the rebel formation.
Darth Vader’s heel caught on the uneven floor of the pyramid.
He stumbled.
Exposing himself.
Sora Bulq did not hesitate.
The Weequay severed the Sith’s prosthetic left arm and left a deep scar across his helmet.
Vader roared.
Consumed by fury, he plunged fully into the Dark Side and seized the Weequay’s throat through the Force, lifting him off the ground.
“You have lived far too long, acolyte,” the Sith rasped.
A moment later, his red lightsaber cut the alien in half just below the chest.
The upper portion of the body slammed into a wall, painting stone with blood.
Vader then turned toward the Thisspiasian, who remained seated in meditation and made no attempt to defend himself against either the Inquisitor, who had just finished slaughtering the last defenders, or the Sith Lord advancing toward him.
“Stand aside,” Vader’s vocoder growled.
“He’s mine.” Jerec immediately dropped to one knee and watched as Darth Vader approached Oppo Rancisis with heavy, deliberate steps.
The fallen Order’s former Master showed no intention of ending his Battle Meditation despite the blood already flowing from his eyes.
“Jedi,” Vader roared, “two-faced liars.
I will destroy every last one of you.” A massive explosion thundered overhead.
Something crashed into the pyramid.
The Miraluka felt thousands of fresh deaths ripple through the Force.
It seemed the old Jedi had managed to destroy yet another Imperial Star Destroyer in his final moments and had attempted to take both the Sith Lord and his acolyte with him.
The ancient structure survived the impact.
All it granted the Jedi was a few extra seconds of life.
“You’re too late…
too late…” the Thisspiasian suddenly laughed, utterly insane.
His eyeballs burst and ran down his face.
“You failed…
you’ll never make it in time…
I saw everything…” Vader seized the old Jedi with the Force, dragging him from his meditation seat and pulling him across the floor.
The alien no longer resisted.
He collapsed like a broken puppet at the Sith Lord’s feet.
“Not you…
him…” the serpent continued laughing while blood spilled from his mouth.
“We should never have taken you into the Order, Ana—” The red lightsaber descended.
The former Master’s head rolled across the floor.
The small body of the decapitated alien collapsed onto the stone floor of the ancient temple.
Yet something felt wrong.
Jerec, once a Jedi researcher and gifted with an unusually refined sensitivity to the Force, sensed something unusual at the moment of Rancisis’s death.
Something bright.
Something of the Light.
For an instant he thought he saw a silhouette standing before the dying Jedi.
Shaking his head, he decided not to mention it.
Vader was already summoning the lightsabers of the fallen to his hand and silently making his way toward the exit of the pyramid.
The Inquisitor hurried after him.