Lies of Bakura: A Secret Without Sin

Rive Caedo

Note: This story is a follow-up to the "Venom of the Empire: A Galaxy Without Sin" roleplay (which, in itself, was a follow-up to the "Kallibann: A World Without Sin" roleplay) and precedes the third and final upcoming "Without Sin" roleplay.

Chapter One

Bakura System

Bakura floated in darkness ahead of the battered starfighter as it dropped out of Hyperspace. Only a thin crescent of its blue oceans and forest covered continents were still day-lit on this side of the world. Bakura’s identically named sun invisible behind the planet.

The planet vanished briefly as the X-Wing drifted around one of Bakura’s moons. Once clear, it powered thrusters and descended rapidly into the upper-atmosphere. In under a minute, after passing through some storm clouds, the craft was flying above the surface and into the wide recessed area known as Telaan Valley. The craft continued to zip along at speeds rather hazardous for atmospheric flight, but slowed to minimal as it approached a dense forest.

The pilot had never actually navigated the forest entrance to the Bakuran Enclave himself, but had been told it was quite safe with the assistance of the Force. It looked simple enough when he had seen it done by the other Jedi.

When a large branch snapped against his fighter’s right wing, he grew less confident. He throttled back even further, but was forced to speed up as the X-Wing began to slowly drop towards the forest’s floor. He sighed in relief as the forest broke and ahead, in a large clearing, the temple revealed itself.

The craft set down on one of the landing pads on the west side of the temple, it was cracked and worn but it still looked far newer than most of the rest of the ancient temple. The pilot could see a man in robes approaching the pad as he glanced out the cockpit’s window. He opened it up and hopped out of the cockpit after locking the controls. His droid whistled from behind him as he began to walk to meet the robed figure.

He stopped and turned to the astromech unit in the X-Wing’s droid socket, “This shouldn’t take long, Artoo. We’ll be back to Coruscant in plenty of time for the wedding. Stop worrying.”

“Commander Skywalker, welcome.” He was greeted by the man who had approached wearing robes similar to his own, but in colors much closer to those worn by Obi-Wan than his own near-black garb.

Luke removed his hood, letting the light rainfall from the storm overhead wet his dark blond hair, and then shook the Jedi’s hand, “Thank you, but I retired from the military nearly three years ago, actually.”

The Jedi noted the change of title mentally, “It’s regretful that you’ve been unable to visit us in that time, Jedi Skywalker.”

“Yes,” Luke took one last glance back at his X-Wing as they entered the temple’s grounds, “I’m afraid that the war has kept us all occupied. Luckily, things have improved dramatically in the past year.”

That was an understatement. The Empire’s stronghold on Coruscant had finally fallen. The New Republic had, at last, freed the entire Galactic Core from the remnants of the Empire still clinging to power four years after the Emperor himself had been defeated. And, of course, his sister Leia and long-time friend Han Solo were taking the opportunity this brief time of peace afforded to wed. A far cry from the uncertainties of the fledging Republic of just a few years ago.

They were both silent as they walked down the darkened stone hall that led from the western docking pads to the central grounds. Luke found the sound of the rain hitting the roof high above them to be rather relaxing.

“You’ve requested to meet with Grand Master Regala, correct?” The Jedi asked as they neared the end of the hall.

“Ah?” Luke was distracted by both the rain and also by the sound of dozens of lightsabers humming as young Jedi practiced lightsaber katas in a room further away. He realized what the Jedi had asked after a moment and responded, “Oh, yes. That’s precisely why I’m here.”

“This is the Western Atrium.” The Jedi said, gesturing to a sizable skylit room through a short passageway to their left, “Wait here, please. The Grand Master should be with you shortly.”

The Jedi left and Luke walked around the small circle of rain droplets pouring in through the room’s open skylight. He sat cross legged at the back of the room and observed the slowly expanding puddle of rain water in the center of the room below the skylight as he waited. When he was living on the sand-ridden world of Tatooine - this natural water display may have been enough to hold his attention, but now - eight years later - his eyes wandered.

It was a beautiful atrium. A half-wall stood to his left, almost entirely open on this side of the room, revealing a large lake that stretched nearly the entire length of the temple. The three other full walls were covered in vines of various colors. Potted plants hovering over the floor all around the room hung by near-invisible wires strung to the ceiling far overhead. Many of the plants and vines were glowing - Luke wasn’t sure if that was natural or genetically engineered, but it provided an impressive display as their own multi-colored glows appeared to be the only source of light in the room.

An elaborate mural of the galaxy covered almost the entire ceiling and the circular skylight formed the center, with the galaxy's spiral arms stretching out from there. Luke wished he could see it at midday, when Bakura’s sun would stream directly into the skylight and light it up like the real galactic core.

Unlike tonight, when rain streamed through and it’s darkened form was only lit by the occasional flashes of lightning in the sky.

"Dark Robed Man" AKA "Y. Walker (Based on writing partially visible on the surviving canvas)"
Ink and Watercolor mixed media composition on canvas
Currently housed in the Bakura Remants Collection at the Coruscant Center of Fine Arts

___________________________________________________________

23 Years Ago: 15 Years Before the Battle of Yavin
2 weeks after the “Integrity Incident”
Bakuran Temple: West Atrium

“It was a necessary mission.”

“No. No it wasn’t!” Abba’s voice was commanding as she reprimanded Rive Caedo - only recently released from the temple’s medical wing, “Even if everything you said was true, the Empire would only have more ships and weapons. They wouldn’t start devastating planets with that... that...” She seemed to be grasping for a word to use.

“Slime?” Rive offered.

The girl rolled her eyes, as if she’d never heard something so ridiculous, “They need those planets. And so, like always, technology would have progressed, governments would change, and all things would eventually wash away while we stayed here - untouched.”

Rive remained silent and flexed his fingers. A five centimeter wide cybernetic ring had replaced the large portion of his left shoulder severed by his own lightsaber while it was in the hands of Darth Vader. The band had actually given him greater mobility and strength, but - no matter what those doctors said - it didn’t properly convey feeling. His left arm, hand, and fingers constantly felt slightly numb. It was an annoyance he’d need to get used to. It may have been better if he hadn't dragged his own lifeless arm halfway across the galaxy and gotten a full cybernetic replacement instead.

“Do you realize what would happen if he tracked you here?” Abba said in a raised tone and pointed towards his shoulder as she noticed he was fidgeting with it, “You should! It’s already happened to one Jedi Order!” She lowered her voiced slightly, “And it's what will happen to this one if you keep galavanting around the Galaxy; the Empire will find us and Darth Vader will be at the forefront of the attack.”

“Fine.” Rive had hardly heard her, “You disagree with my methods. I understand. But I’m not careless - you know that. If I was ever captured, it would end with my death and go no further. I don’t understand why we need to have this discussion every time I make a report to the Council.”

Regala’s hands tightened into fists and her eyes closed. Rive hadn’t seen her this upset since he’d destroyed that Imperial shipyard on Mon Calamari - he braced himself for her to start shouting. She did, “Because they support you! The Grand Master supports you!”

Rive shrugged, “But they don’t send more Jedi to assist me. Narix votes to, but that hasn’t been enough to sway the majority of the Council.”

And so it had returned to him again. Narix Trelaev, appointed earlier this very year to leadership of the Bakuran Order. It had been a controversial appointment. Narix was nearing death and was becoming radical in his old age - largely due to Rive’s own influence on him over the past few years. He was likely the one man that was preventing Rive from being expelled from the Order.

More importantly, Abba Regala was Narix’s apprentice. Though, in truth, most of her training came from other masters - the Grand Master was simply too frail to teach her anything beyond philosophy. It hadn’t taken Abba long to notice Narix and Rive’s alliance and she’d grown somewhat jealous over the years.

“Master Narix may not hold enough sway to get them to vote for actively supporting your recklessness, but he does have enough influence to allow you to skirt around the rules of the Order. And he does have the power to get them to appoint you to Council membership - where you could influence affairs directly.” Abba’s voice was still stern, but she had stopped shouting.

With a smile Rive dismissed the claim, “I think you’ve been talking to the junior students too often.” Rive would often tell the younger students about the latest happenings in the outside world and also stories of his own adventures whenever he returned to the temple - it’d become something of a tradition. It’d caused a few tall tales to spring up over the years - likely including the idea he’d be placed on the Council. His favorite was the one where he’d supposedly led a herd of bantha into battle against an Imperial garrison. Rive’s smile turned to a wide grin as he thought of this.

The grin vanished as Abba drew him back to reality - she was leaving the room and didn’t face him as she spoke in a lower tone than the entire conversation had held, “Perhaps, but I’ve heard the same from the older students. They think it’s going to happen. Soon.” She stepped out of the shadows and into the light near the door, “Do as you feel is right but please... don’t destroy everything we’ve worked for. Don’t throw away 4,000 years of secrecy and tradition just for one war.”

With that, she left the atrium.

Rive didn’t like her. She knew that. Even Narix knew that. Since she was twelve years old she’d constantly questioned his actions. While the other young students had marveled at his stories, Abba had undermined his victories and said he was a disgrace to the Order. It had only grown worse over the past five years. Recently, she’d insisted on lecturing him nearly every time he returned to the temple. He had almost expected her to do it while he was still recovering in the medical wing this time. It was ridiculous; he was 45, old enough to be her father!

This room embodied what Abba Regala cared about. Building a new west wing for the temple. Bringing more Jedi into the Order. This atrium’s roof was incomplete and the grand hall that would connect it to the temple’s central grounds and the new western landing pad hadn’t even been started - not to mention the rest of the wing. As far as she was concerned, the rest of the galaxy could burn and it wouldn't matter; as long as the Bakuran Order could remain hidden and safe from it, she was satisfied.

Without doubt, Rive disagreed. He cared about the galaxy outside of these walls. That was why Narix had been drawn to him - because he'd grown up outside of the Bakuran Order. Narix was over 1,000 years old and in all that time he had never left Bakura and hardly left the temple itself. Rive could hardly comprehend it. He’d told Narix stories of growing up on Coruscant, his first expedition after his Force awakening to Rodia, and countless other worlds beyond those... and Narix had listened intently.

"Overhead Two Jedi in Lakeside Room"
Watercolors on canvas
Currently housed in the "Bakura Remnants" Collection at the Coruscant Center of Fine Arts

Rive Caedo · Last edited by Rive Caedo on Tue Jul 29, 2008 2:21 pm; edited 1 time in total

Chapter Two

15 Years Before the Battle of Yavin
6 weeks after the “Integrity Incident”
Bakuran Temple: North Shelter

This was the third time Rive had come to see Armia Delvron. She hadn’t even looked at him since he’d sat down beside her almost three minutes ago. She simply continued staring at the furry lizards wandering around where she was lying. She was wearing the same red outfit that he'd seen her in last time. Rive wasn't sure if the Order had given them to her or if she'd produced it from her own shapeshifting cells - he didn't really want to think about it.

She turned her head toward Rive finally and asked in a quiet voice, "So what have they decided to do with me?"

"Nothing - yet. They're still debating what to charge you with." Rive paused, "A crime against the Force itself is something without precedent."

She scoffed and returned her attention to the lizards, rubbing the one nearest to her behind its ears.

The Jedi medical team that'd removed himself, Dakoth, and the Mandalorian Korus from the shuttle wreckage had found Armia in a rodent form unconscious gripped tightly in one of Korus's mechanized crushgrip gauntlets. The Mandalorian himself had fallen unconscious as well, but the glove kept her caught in its vice. Feeling her Force presence, the medical team had treated her along with themselves.

Dakoth had sustained the most serious injury besides Rive's own arm being severed. His right knee had impacted hard against the shuttle's control panel in front of him. It'd torn up the tendons fairly badly and cracked his kneecap. The other cuts and bruises he'd sustained had healed well under bacta treatment, but the knee injury was proving difficult. He was still in the medical wing, as far as Rive knew.

Unlike the Jedi, Korus had sustained only a minor concussion; his armor took the brut of the rest of the impacts. The pilot's controls had exploded with enough force to likely kill Dakoth, if he had been sitting in the pilot's seat. The armor had, unfortunately, sustained perhaps irreparable damage from this impact, but successfully prevented the Mandalorian's lungs from being punctured. Rive wasn't sure what'd become of him.

Once granted admission to the medical wing, the space pirates Nova and Shin had explained to the Jedi healers and non-Jedi doctors who Armia was. Under their advisement, they'd kept her sedated through the rest of her surgery and then kept her detained until she was moved here a month later.

"Here" was a ten meter wide energy cage in an immense stone room hundreds of feet underneath the Temple's North Wing. It was originally designed as some sort of fallout shelter, but had apparently gone unused for the past thousand years. Now it housed dozens of Ysalamir and potted Olbio trees for them to feed on.

The Ysalamir were unique creatures - they repelled the Force away from their bodies by emitting some sort of energy bubble. The process was far from being fully understood. The bubble prevented the Force from exerting any influence - and that is why they were here: to prevent Armia from attempting to use the Force to escape - but it didn't prevent the Force from being felt. So it was unlike the effects of Armia's Pacathium metal, which emitted an aura that within it the Force could not cross - preventing it from binding all things together.

For thousands of generations that had been the one constant understanding. Things could effect the Force, channel it, alter it, negate it, but throughout all things it penetrated: it existed. The Force bound all living things in the universe together; that was the understanding. Rive had little doubt that the Council would vote to form some sort of edict against preventing the Force existing and would enforce it retroactively against Armia.

Even without that, she could be directly blamed for the forced detainment of dozens of individuals on Kallibann two years ago, damage to the human-replica droid Atma, association or conspiracy to the murders of over one-dozen Mandalorians, and kicking Rive himself in the face. He was still a bit upset about that. Although the scar on his chin and the chip in the back of one of his teeth seemed almost inconsequential now that he'd had a chunk of his shoulder permanently removed.

They’d sat silently for almost another three minutes now, Rive got up to leave the energy cage. He wasn’t sure if he’d call her current situation an improvement over the last time he had seen her - the medical team had kept her detained in a duracrete container barely large enough to stand in before moving her here. But at least she had a wall to lean on there. The energy bars of this cage had enough energy pulsing through them to knock out a full grown man for hours if touched.

It was rather clear that Armia was still lying languidly across the cage and not impersonating Rive, but one of the three Jedi guarding the room still performed a DNA scan on him before deactivating two of the energy bars to release him. As he did this Armia said in a low, resolute voice, “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I escaped the Empire’s cages just to rot in yours.”

Rive left the room and got on the ancient lift back to the surface without responding.

"Armia" (Based on writing on canvas)
Ink on Canvas composition
Currently housed in the "Bakuran Remnants" collection at the Coruscant Center of Fine Arts

_______________________________________

23 Years Later: 8 Years After the Battle of Yavin
Bakuran Temple: West Atrium

Wearing a standard brown robe with a pale pink undershirt, Grand Master of the Bakuran Order, Abba Regala entered the Atrium, “Commander Skywalker, welcome. I apologize for making you wait.” With a wave of her hand she closed the ceiling's skylight and stopped the rain from pouring in.

Luke didn’t bother correcting her about his title like he had the Jedi at the landing pad, “It wasn’t long. I should thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”

“We get... very few visitors.” the Grand Master said as she sat down across from Luke at the opposite side of the rain puddle, “It’s a welcome change of pace.”

“Yes, I expect so.” An uncomfortable silence followed. A steady drip of water fell from the still wet stone around the skylight into the puddle between them.

The Bakuran Jedi broke it, “Your message requesting this meeting was cryptic. What was it you wished to discussed?”

“I did wish to thank you for providing me with your database, it’s already proven an invaluable source of information in attempting to find Jedi that survived the Empire’s reign.” Luke genuinely meant this. His discovery of Dev Sibwarra during the Battle of Bakura, a Force sensitive boy born to a Jedi mother who had survived for many years after the Empire’s rise to power, had galvanized his desire to find more in the galaxy like himself. His discovery of this Temple only days after that had almost extinguished it, since it was clear that the Jedi traditions would survive without his intervention.

However, in his short weeks interacting with the Bakuran Jedi, he discovered they were unlike himself, and so he decided to continue with his desire to create an academy of his own to pass on what he had learned to new students and gather any surviving Jedi of the Republic. He'd asked the Bakuran council for any files or training programs they could offer him and they had generously provided him with a copy of their entire archive.

“We were glad to offer any assistance possible to you. But... that’s not why you’re here, is it?” Regala clasped her hands together and stared at Luke hard.

“No.” Luke drew his own hands apart and placed them on his knees, “Your records include over 3,000 years of data. However... there’s a gap in the archives. Nearly six years are missing starting from a point about 23 years ago. All files for those six years had been deleted.”

“Hm..." The middle-aged woman lowered her eyebrows as she tried to remember that far back, "Ah yes, I believe that was caused by a catastrophic error when the archives were transfered to new databanks.”

Luke nodded, “That’s what I thought as well. Something similar to that, in any case. So I ignored it for the past four years. It didn’t seem important.”

The Grand Master nodded and seemed rather confused as to why he was bringing it up at all.

“However, just a few months ago, when the New Republic captured the Galactic Core, I was given access to a new archive.” Luke continued, “The Coruscant Imperial data archive.” He withdrew a datapad from a pocket on his belt, “It, like your archives, offered a wealth of information. Jedi who had been killed by the Empire, Jedi who hadn’t. But, you can imagine my surprise when I found that there was a six year gap in the data starting... 23 years ago. Spanning nearly identical dates to the gap in your database.”

“Well, that certainly is interesting.” Abba rose her clasped hands to her chin, “Perhaps I was mistaken. There could have been some sort of electrical disturbance in the galaxy that...”

Luke cut her off, “And now I’m sensing an immense amount of deception from you. Even more so than I have been for the rest of this conversation.” Luke clicked through several screens on the datapad, “So I think that you know exactly what happened 23 years ago." He displayed a screen of text to her, "And I think you also know why there’s a report shortly after the Empire’s data archives resume indicating that a brown robed man had infiltrated the main storage facilities, killed several guards with an energy sword, and then left after deleting the previous six years of data.”

The knuckles of Grand Master Regala’s hands turned white as her hands clenched tightly together and she returned Skywalker’s icy glare as best she could.

"Something happened in those six years. Something you don't want anyone finding out about." Luke kept his gaze fixed on the Jedi across from him, unblinking, "I want to know what."

"Commander Skywalker's Visit"
Paper cutouts composition by Bakuran Enclave Jedi student in 3 ABY
Presumed Destroyed

Rive Caedo · Last edited by Rive Caedo on Sun Oct 12, 2008 11:24 am; edited 1 time in total

Chapter Three

8 Years After the Battle of Yavin
Bakuran Temple: West Atrium

Luke broke the seemingly endless silence, “I’m waiting for answers.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time then, I’m afraid.” Abba's eyes held steady at Luke, but she her muscles were clenched and her voice wavered, “Our archive given to you as a gesture of good will. A sign of friendship between our own Order and the fledging you are in the process of creating. Accept it as that and leave this mystery to rest.” The Grand Master of the Bakuran Order inhaled loudly after this statement finished. She had said it entirely in a single breath.

For a moment, Luke did consider dropping the subject. Abba Regala had struck him as a good person, he didn't like making her this uncomfortable. But, Luke realized that she was a powerful Jedi, perhaps even powerful enough to deceive him, so he pressed on, “I can’t do that. Six years of history have been deleted from galactic records by your Order. That’s too big for me to overlook. It’s too big for the New Republic to overlook.”

Abba's shoulders dropped and she focused her eyes on the darkened pool of water in the middle of the room between the two Jedi, “Master Skywalker, I warn you... those years have been wiped clean from the galaxy for a reason. Speaking of them is forbidden in this temple. If you do not desist, I’ll be forced to ask you to leave. Please, stop.”

Luke's course was set now, so he responded instantly, “I can’t do that.”

Abba sighed again and kept her eyes on the water and stated sadly, “Then you are no longer welcome in this temple.”

Luke remained sitting for several seconds until it was clear that was the end of the conversation. He was expected to leave on his own.

Even as he was forced to walk directly past her to leave the atrium, the Grand Master kept her eyes to the floor.

Western Atrium ceiling design concept: "Galactic Vision"
Digital artwork composition.
Presumed deleted.

__________________________

Bakuran Temple: Western Landing Pad

Luke flicked several switches as he ran a quick preflight check on his X-Wing's systems, “Artoo, run a sensor sweep of this clearing; look for any underground caverns or caves.”

The scuffed blue astromech droid quickly located three underground structures in the area - but only one with a large opening to the surface. Luke took off and headed towards the tree line that circled the Temple’s expansive clearing. Just before reaching it, he banked hard to the right. He projected as strongly as he could in the Force the image of his X-Wing entering the forest and hoped it would be enough to fool any Jedi watching his departure. He flew slowly back into the Temple's expansive clearing - cloaked in a heavy Force shroud.

__________________________

Bakuran Temple: Exterior Clearing

The X-Wing's engines hadn't even needed to vent after shutting down; the short trip hadn't given them time to heat up. It was now sitting silently inside of the small cave Artoo had located at the far side of the lake the Temple’s west walls overlooked. The mouth of the cave faced away from the Temple. There were no glow rods or anything to indicate that the cave was used by the Bakuran Jedi, so it was unlikely his fighter would be discovered while he was gone.

Luke swung himself out of the fighter to the damp cave floor and looked up at his reliable astromech socketed behind the cockpit, “If I can get you to a dataport, you can download their files, right?”

R2-D2 whistled affirmatively.

“Good,” Luke moved to help the droid out of his socket when he suddenly felt a familiar presence sweep over the hill and towards the mouth of the cave, “Ben?”

The translucent blue specter of Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped out of the thin mist outside of the cave towards Luke. The rain twisted and rippled his ghostly form as he walked.

“Why did you return here, Luke?” Kenobi asked as his form took its natural shape as he stepped out of the rain into the cave, “I asked you, years ago now, to turn away from this Temple. To leave it and never return. You weren’t meant to come here, Luke.”

Luke shook his head, “I didn’t understand then and I don’t understand now, Ben. Why would I turn away from it? They’re Jedi. There’s so much I could learn from them.” He glanced away from Kenobi's spirit to withdraw a large toolbox from the X-Wing's side storage compartment, “I don’t know anything about starting an academy.”

“The academy you are destined to create cannot be built on lessons learned here. The Jedi were the guardians of the Republic. The Bakuran...” Kenobi paused and seemed to be searching for a word to use, “Monks were not. It is not your destiny to learn from or to emulate them.”

“Fine." Luke still wasn't convinced, but knew his old master was unshakeable, "But now I’m only interested in finding out what they’re hiding from me. Something big happened about two decades ago during the Empire’s reign. Something that they want to cover up.” Luke set the toolbox down for Kenobi to sit on, “And I’ve never seen someone cover up something innocent.”

The elderly Jedi, if one could still be called elderly almost a decade after their death, sat on the toolbox Luke had provided, “And what will you do then, after you learn the truth?”

Luke closed the storage compartment door, turned, and leaned back against it, “I don’t know. I don’t know happened yet. But I do know the New Republic is finally in a position to bring to justice anyone who got away with murder and other atrocities under the Empire.”

Kenobi sighed, “Luke, you need to look to the future. You’re going to find that you’ll be rounding up criminals and chasing ghosts for the rest of your life if you try to right every wrong committed during your father and the Emperor’s reign.”

Luke shook his head, “This is different. These aren’t low brow thugs or stormtroopers; these are Jedi." Luke caught Obi-Wan's disapproving glance as he used the term, "Or at least they're closer to being Jedi than anyone else alive in the galaxy. If they made mistakes then I need to know about them so that I can avoid having my academy follow the same path.”

After a moment of silence, Luke turned and began to help R2 down from the X-Wing’s top. Kenobi stood up from the toolbox, “Don’t go Luke. It may not be too late to reclaim you destiny.”

There it was again. Every time Obi-Wan had appeared to him since the Bakuran Conflict he had said that, that he needed to reclaim his destiny, “Tell me." Luke's tone was exasperated he felt like Kenobi was keeping just as much from him as Abba was, "Tell me what happened here and maybe I won’t need to confront them.”

“I can’t." Kenobi's eyes seemed to look past Luke, past the back wall of the cave, and towards the Bakuran temple, "When I look at this place all I see are unclear visions, smudges of history... blurry futures.” “That’s why I asked you to leave then - and now, Luke. Every moment you spend here your destiny becomes less clear to me and the future of the Jedi Order less certain.”

Luke could tell the old master was still hesitant, “I’ve seen that look in your eyes before. There’s something you’re keeping from me. You do know something.”

“All I can tell you is that there are some paths that no Jedi was meant to follow.” He turned away from Luke, “The Dark Side is a path of evil and sorrow... but some, unfortunately, are destined to follow it. The Dark Side can be fought and overcome. There are some aspects of the Force... that were never meant to be. They cannot be overcome.”

Luke stepped into the rain with R2-D2 rolling just behind him as Obi-Wan shouted from the near darkness “Leave now, Luke, before it’s too late!”

__________________________

Bakuran Temple: Outside West Wing

Luke tried to shake his former master's cryptic warnings from his mind. The rain was coming down even harder now than before. Enough so that he wasn’t able to see the massive Temple from across the lake.

Good. He was relying on that. The harder the rain was coming down the less likely anyone would see himself and his little blue astromech droid approaching. Luke pulled his outer robes closer to his body to try to keep warm.

The Temple seemed more menacing now that he was no longer invited. Although it could also be due to the fact that most of its lighting had been extinguished for the night and was now a good deal darker than when he'd arrived an hour ago.

Luke could remember seeing dozens of data ports in the Temple’s archive room during his visit five years ago, but that was at the far south end of the Temple and likely still occupied even at this late hour. He’d simply have to hope that one of the western rooms had a full-access port for Artoo to access.

The western archway entrance had an engraving over it that he hadn’t noticed before. It was written in Old Galactic Basic, but Luke thought he could make out most of it.

“It says, ‘Those fallen to the magnetic...’ wait, no, ‘... to the vampiric shall never be forgotten.’” Luke glanced down at Artoo, “That sound about right?”

R2’s main sensor glinted slightly as it adjusted to focus on the writing above them. The droid quickly reported that he was unable to read the language.

Luke shrugged, “Maybe I should have brought Threepio.”

A rapid spattering of beeps was issued from R2-D2 as he began to insist that the writing was likely of no importance and that it wasn’t his fault that Hyperspace calculations took up much more memory space than linguistic files for dead languages.

Luke smirked, but now ready to move on he quieted the droid and entered the Temple.

"Western Temple Archway"
Charcoal and oil composition.
Currently housed in the "Bakuran Remnants" collection at the Coruscant Center of Fine Arts.
Notable for being one of the very few undamaged pieces in the collection.

__________________________

Bakuran Temple: West Wing
Holographic Observatory

The darkly garbed Jedi Master and his astromech had only needed to search two other rooms before they’d found this one containing a working data port. The room contained several holographic projectors and not much else.

A minute or so after interfacing with the port, R2 reported that the entire database was available at this access point, but it was far too large to download to his databanks.

Luke had expected as much, "We'll have to trust that they really did provide us with their entire archive of files they want publicly available. Search only for files that are encrypted and remnants of files that have been deleted."

Luke suddenly heard light footsteps behind him. Someone had entered the room while he was focused on Artoo.

R2's dome spun to face the intruder. He was young, with long, black, dreadlocked hair. He directed his eyes towards Luke and spoke, "Excuse me, master. Is this the holographic observatory?"

Luke was still facing away from the student, he sounded to be about 13 years old. Luke thought if he was lucky maybe the boy didn’t know everyone in the Temple and would be too young to remember his visit five years ago. No, that was unlikely. This temple was a small and incredibly tight-knit community and he had been the only visitor to the Bakuran Order in years - if not decades - the boy would be sure to remember him.

Hoping it would be enough to conceal his identity, Luke kept his back to the boy as he answered with a lie, “No, I'm afraid not. The observatory is further down the hall."

Silence followed. Luke wasn't sure if it was because the student recognized his voice or, more likely, because he had spotted the holoprojectors mounted on the walls - this was obviously the room he was looking for.

The boy finally responded with a simple, "Thank you, master."

Luke breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the boy walk away, “Hurry up, Artoo. It won’t take long for that student to find out I sent him on a wild bantha chase. If he didn't suspect it already...”

R2-D2 action logs #3823489502038221 through #3823489502038224
Digital archive.
Current status unknown.

Rive Caedo

Chapter Four

14 Years Before the Battle of Yavin
1 year after the "Integrity Incident"
Bakuran Temple: Northern Landing Pads

It was early morning on Bakura. The far off tree line of the circular clearing cast a shadow nearly to the northern docking pads. That was where the Imperial shuttlecraft - the vessel that had nearly been the final resting place of Jedi Dakoth Mandol, Rive Caedo, and the Mandalorian Korus Zhett - had been moved after its twisted remains had been dragged off the emergency medical docking pad. Caedo had requested it not be melted down for scrap.

Now, over a year later, in stark contrast the smoking upside down wreckage, the shuttle was sitting upright on its own landing gear. Over half the plating had been completely rebuilt instead of repaired - but even the scuffs on the remaining original metal were hidden by a fresh coat of red and yellow paint.

It could hardly be called a Lambda-class shuttle any longer. Rive’s intention at first was to restore it to its original condition, but, as it had become clear over the past year that the Council would soon vote to lockdown the entire Temple in fear of Imperial entanglements, the goal had become more ambitious. In place of the two wings that had been lost entirely when the shuttle hit the Integrity’s flight deck, two additional freighter engines had been attached directly to the former wing mounts. The craft now looked like a bulky powerhouse with a red sail set proudly atop.

It was a dangerous project, in truth. Linking two hyperdrive systems together was possible in theory, but Rive had never heard of someone attempting it in a practical situation. If it was successful the reward would be one of the fastest... and most unstable... ships in the galaxy. Enough to vastly outclass even the latest Imperial designs. If it was unsuccessful...

The work had begun as a trio. All three survivors of the crash had felt they "owed" something to the shuttle, perhaps. Dakoth had assisted with the beginning of the project, but was forced to quit after the major framing work was completed due to other commitments in the Order. For the months following Rive and Korus had built something of a tense friendship. There was little said between them and more often than not Korus felt like Caedo was simply keeping an eye on him - ensuring that the Mandalorian never got a chance to stab him in the back.

There were exceptions though. Rive had been spending so much time at the Temple this year that many of the young Jedi - who gathered intently in the past years to hear his stories from off-world - had begun to care less about his presence. So Caedo had invited Korus to share his own stories with the younglings. At first he’d refused, but now it had become a weekly ritual. For the most part it had been positive for Korus - he’d asked to stay here at the Temple to get away from things. He had been able to think a lot of things over while sharing his experiences with open minds. However, when the topic turned once to the story of Kallibann - it had ended in a brief fist fight between himself and Caedo. They still... disagreed... strongly... about certain aspects of those events.

Now the vessel was all but complete and he and Caedo were rushing through the final stages to make the shuttle space-worthy. A certain Jedi by the name of Abba Regala had failed to return to the Temple when all Jedi were recalled earlier in the month. Rive had impulsively volunteered the incomplete shuttle for the mission.

Korus heard the steadily increasing whine of the hyperspace engines begin to wobble and the heat monitor spiked, “No, that’s too much. Ease off. You’ll blow out the regulator.”

“The regulator? It only has one?” Rive Caedo’s rather confused voice replied back across the small two-way radio headsets they both wore.

Korus growled. That was at least the fifth time today he’d had to correct the Jedi on the ship’s technical design. It was amazing the linked engines worked at all. In fact, they probably wouldn’t if Korus hadn’t insisted on double-checking the wiring himself.

“So... you actually finished it.” Rive heard a soft, raspy voice say from outside the shuttle - just barely audible over the engines. It sounded like... Rive focused his mind for a moment and confirmed that it was Narix’s presence outside the shuttle. It was strange that he hadn’t felt him approach. That had been happening a lot lately, actually. Maybe he was losing his touch.

With both hands clasping the Shuttle’s cockpit framing above him (the replacement transparisteel window had not yet been installed), Rive rose from the pilot’s seat and leaned out of the vessel to see the docking pad. He almost instantly wished he hadn’t. For the past six months Narix, still officially the Grand Master of the Order - although his duties had been taken over in reality by Master Shaw, had been kept hidden away in the secure quarters of the medical wing.

He looked like he was already dead. His drooping brow hung almost entirely over his eyes and what little was visible of them looked like pale sockets. The small amount of hair he had left in his old age had now fallen out entirely. Worse yet, the Jedi who had stood so proudly less than a year ago was now lying on a hoverbed and clearly atrophied. He was pushed along gently by another - much younger - Council Member, Wren Dray.

Dray, a Bothan, was the one who spoke as Rive slid down the shuttle’s sloped cockpit to the ground. She kept her voice to a whisper, “He shouldn’t really be out here, but he insisted tha---”

“I insisted that I be allowed to see my namesake before I die!” Narix’s voice was surprisingly strong then, but it was clear that it had taken a great effort. He wheezed as he continued, “Now come now, push me up so I can see it.”

The last time Rive had seen Narix - just before they’d transferred him to the medical wing - he’d promised that they would name the reborn shuttle after him and that he would see it when it was completed. It was an empty promise. Rive hadn’t expected Narix’s rapidly declining health to last this long... and he certainly hadn’t expected him to insist on seeing it if he did.

With obvious reservation on her furred face, Dray triggered the bed to slowly raise Narix into a standing position. He still leaned against the bed’s upright frame, but it was clear the elderly master was glad to be on his feet for likely the first time in months. Rive felt a tainted happiness as he saw Narix smile - several of his teeth were now missing.

“This is it. I know it.” Narix’s boney index finger pointed at the crimson shuttle, “This is what I’ve been waiting for.”

“What?” Dray asked almost simultaneously with Rive.

The man seemed lost in his own world for a moment. He traced the outline of his name painted on the shuttle’s side with his finger in the air. The name Narix - given now to the shuttle - had been written across one of the newly installed engines in three languages: Galactic Basic by Rive, Mando’a by Korus, and Old Galactic Basic by Dakoth. Narix smiled again and allowed his hand to drop limply. Dray grimaced as she heard the hand impact against the bed frame - likely breaking at least one bone. Narix seemed to ignore the pain.

Briefly, Rive could see almost the entirety of Narix's milky, nearly blinded eyes as his brow rose. His voice was extremely strained and his knees were beginning to shake, “If you find Abba. Be sure... tell her to keep looking to the future.”

Rive wanted to say “you can tell her yourself when we get back”, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the lie - Narix was in his final hours. They both knew that, so Rive simply gave a curt nod.

Rive watched as Narix was lowered onto his back again and the hoversled was pushed back to the Temple by Master Dray. It was doubtlessly the last time he’d see the man: the only reason he’d ever been allowed into this Order in the first place. For the second time today, Rive felt as if he truly was growing old.

Korus had deliberately maintained silence respectfully the entire time Narix was in sight. But, as soon as the dying Jedi had passed from view, he resumed checking the shuttle’s systems and motioned to Rive, “We’re not going to be ready to launch by midday if you don’t help me get these energy levels normalized.”

Rive tried to shake the image of Narix from his mind and forced a grin, “That won’t do much good unless we get the cockpit’s glass installed too. Unless you like the taste of raw Hyperspace.”

Korus didn’t play along, “Twice as much work then. Get moving.”

"Narix-class Shuttle Concept Version 2"
Ink and paint mixed media composition on canvas.
Currently housed in the Bakura Remants Collection at the Coruscant Center of Fine Arts.
Design is believed to have never been used for an actual starship. Further concept designs - that may have been the basis for an actual starship modification - are rumored to exist, but are not currently in any known collection.

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14 Years Before the Battle of Yavin
Bakuran Temple: Northern Landing Pads
Midday

The shuttle had been completed on time and now the search party for Abba Regala was aboard. The crew and cargo capacity of the shuttle had been slightly decreased by its extensive modifications, but it still comfortably could carry at least a dozen people.

"All systems check out. Of course, you're trying to test a non-standard Hyperdrive core against standard system checks." Korus declared from the co-pilot's seat.

"Well that's what makes this more interesting than a blue milk pickup run." Rive Caedo replied with a smirk, warming up the reinforced Hyperdrive resonators of the modified shuttle and locking in navigation coordinates Korus was feeding him.

One of the other Jedi that had agreed to accompany the search for Abba Regala and conduct the first flight of the Narix voice was full of concern, "You don't think Master Regala is in trouble? I have a bad feeling about all this."

Another Jedi, younger than the other, spoke dismissively, "That's probably just the radiation getting to you. Did you see how many wires they have linking those Hyperdrive cores together?"

Rive smirked, "He's right. You'll probably be in more danger during this takeoff than the rest of the mission. I don't sense anything wrong. I'm sure Abba is just off preaching "live and let live" philosophy to the Mon Calamari as the Empire enslaves them."

The young Jedi glared, "You shouldn't disrespect her like that. Master Regala's already done more for this Order than you ever will."

Korus sighed as he engaged the lift thrusters, "This is going to be a long trip."

The shuttle lifted off from tHE l@nding pad and ENGAged fusj powir tus auhf &@9-0asd 081jad oif----END OF LINE

One file duplicate located in backup database:
"Maiden Flight"
Paint spot composition on hard canvas
Currently housed in a private collection.

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