Fallen

Darth Acrimonus · Fallen

((Some of you may've already seen this on tDSL. There is a lot more there if anyone wishes to read ahead.))

Part One: The Uncertain Future

32 ABY

Young Jedi J'yph Asmodeus stood anxiously at one end of the training hall, his lightsaber humming softly in his hands as its blade lit up his features in a soft green light. Asmodeus gripped the hilt tighter, holding the blade vertically in a defensive stance.

Directly opposite him, at the other end of the hall, stood Bea-Lund Kryss. Although Kryss looked calm, Asmodeus could sense the anxiety that paralleled his own through the Force. He held his saber low, its brilliant blue blade pointing away from Kryss' body, adopting an aggressive stance that displayed his full confidence in his swordsmanship.

Both were mere weeks away from Knighthood, this dual scheduled as an assessment of both apprentices capabilities. Their Masters stood at a large window that looked into the hall from an adjacent room. Kryss’ Master, a slender Rodian whose plain robes made her bright green skin look as if it glowed, hit a button on the intercom next to the window.

“Apprentices,” she rasped in heavily accented basic, “you may begin. May the Force be with you both.”

Asmodeus’ master, a pale Sullustan, sent a wave of encouragement to his pupil through the Force, before drawing his robe about himself to assess the dual impersonally.

For what seemed like an eternity both students simply stood facing each other, holding their position and probing the Force to anticipate the others move. Then, suddenly, Kryss threw himself forward his saber blade pointing directly ahead. Asmodeus leapt aside, keeping his lightsaber angled defensively between his body and Kryss’ blade. Kryss rolled out of his dive, spinning about on the balls of his feet before leaping at Asmodeus again. Asmodeus felt the dull command in the back of his mind, that natural and comfortable feeling of the Force guiding his hands to block. As the blades collided, erupting into a shower of kaleidoscopic sparks, Kryss lent in close.

“I didn’t get a chance to wish you ‘good luck’ before,” he whispered.
Their blades hissed like enraged serpents, sending more sparks outward to singe their robes.

“According to the Jedi code, there is no such thing as luck,” Asmodeus replied, pushing his blade back against Kryss’ trying to gain the advantage.

They struggled in that position for another half a minute, until Kryss slipped his blade too far along Asmodeus’, forcing himself to retreat.

“Thanks, by the way,” Asmodeus said as Kryss backed off, “Good luck to you too.”

Kryss flashed an appreciative smile, then raised his arm to direct a Force push in Asmodeus’ direction. When it came to swordsman ship, Kryss was superior to any other apprentice currently in the Order, but Asmodeus had a distinct advantage with it came to using the Force to manipulate the world around them. Drawing as much of the ethereal energy into himself as he could, Asmodeus held himself to the room’s floor in defiance. But the push was simply a distraction, one Asmodeus had fallen for, and Kryss lunged forward into a high slash. Having focused too much energy into holding his position, Asmodeus had no choice but to move his blade to block.

Their blades weaved together in a brilliant shell of light, Asmodeus’ defensive manoeuvres trapping himself inside. Slowly, he began to put more force behind his deflections, driving Kryss’ attack lower, opening a hole at the top of the shell. Again drawing the Force into himself, Asmodeus leapt directly upward. He spun himself around in the air, and directed another blast of Force energy to deflect his path far enough away from Kryss that he could land without being trapped into another defensive manoeuvre.

At the height Asmodeus had flung himself, and the speed he’d gained due to his Force blast, he knew the landing was going to be rough. He slammed into the halls floor, and despite the mats on it giving enough to prevent everything besides nasty bruises, it left him mildly shocked. His saber was sent sailing from his grip, bouncing across the floor to land at Kryss’ feet. Kryss drew Asmodeus’ saber into his empty hand, then turned to face the window.

“Does that make me the victor?”

“Do not assume victory so soon, young apprentice,” the Sullustan Master said, “In a real life situation, removing an enemy’s obvious weapons does not make them defenceless.”

Asmodeus could feel Kryss’ confusion for a moment, as he did not understanding what the Sullustan meant, until a tremor in the Force alerted him to an attack. Bringing both blades up, he managed to catch the third that came down upon him in a furious yellow blaze.

“Since when did you carry a spare lightsaber?” Kryss asked as he drew his blue blade out of the lock to swing at Asmodeus’ legs.

“I don’t,” Asmodeus replied, leaping over Kryss’ attack, “So I borrowed yours.”

Asmodeus released one hand from the lightsaber, flashing the hilt at its owner. Kryss flashed a sly smile at Asmodeus, and leapt at him again. All three blades flashed and spun, colliding between each other in a whirlwind of deadly energy. Asmodeus struggled to hold his own, Kryss’ untiring assault wearing away at his defence.

And then it collapsed completely. Kryss struck low with Asmodeus’ saber, bring the green blade around to try and strike Asmodeus’ knees. As Asmodeus blocked, he brought the saber up violently, sending both flipping out of control into the corner of the hall.

Asmodeus brought his hands up in surrender, as Kryss levelled his blue blade and pointed it at Asmodeus’ chest.

“Surrender?”

“Never.”

Kryss’ eyes opened wide as he went flying backward, Asmodeus’ gesture of surrender simply positioning his hands to redirect the energy of the Force into a violent push. Kryss spun out of control, unable to redirect his path, heading straight for the far wall. At the last instant, his head mere centimetres from collision, he felt a tug on his body that held him in the air.

Asmodeus stood with his arms outstretched, palms of his hands facing the ceiling and fingers bent slightly as he held Kryss in place. The door to the hall opened, and the two Master’s strode in, both radiating their pleasure at their apprentices display through the Force.

“We have no doubts you’ll both make great Jedi,” the Rodian announced, “And we have no doubt now you’re both to be Knighted.”

“Thankyou, Master,” Asmodeus said, bowing his head in respect as he lowered Kryss to the floor and released his Force hold.

“Yes, thankyou,” Kryss said as he rose.

Kryss collected his spare lightsaber and left with his Master.

“Is there something else, Master?” Asmodeus asked when his Sullustan
Master remained standing by the door.

“Do not get too attached to those around you, young apprentice,” the Sullustan sighed.

“Sorry?”

“You caught Kryss,” the Sullustan explained, “You did not allow him to save himself, out of fear for him hurting himself?”

“I thought compassion was one of a Jedi’s greatest qualities, to protect the helpless from harm.”

“Your fellow apprentice is hardly helpless.”

Asmodeus stood in silence, trying to digest the contradictory information. How was he too know what was an act of compassion, and what his Master seemed to be telling him was over protectiveness.

“I know you meant well,” his Master said, trying to ease Asmodeus’ discomfort, “But such feelings are a path to Darkness. You have great potential in the Force, but that could easily be turned toward misguided actions.”

“Master, if you do not think I’m ready to be Knighted -”

“You’re worthy of your Knighthood, I have no doubts about that. Consider this, an idea to meditate on, one last piece of wisdom from your old Master.”

“Of course,” Asmodeus said, “Thankyou, Master.”

Despite the reassurance, Asmodeus could not shake the queasy feeling that his Master didn’t think him ready for Knighted, that he doubted Asmodeus’ resolve to remain in the Light and uphold the Jedi ideals. It was certainly not the first time his Master had questioned his abilities, but so soon to receiving his Knighthood left Asmodeus feeling bitter.

* * *

The weeks leading up to the ceremony passed without any further questioning of Asmodeus’ actions. Despite this, Asmodeus’ himself was unable to let go of his Master’s comments. They gnawed at him, keeping him awake at night as he dwelled on the feeling, feeding it as it evolved from uncertainty of his Master’s faith in him, to anger at himself for failing his master, to resentment. The Jedi teachings spoke on the dangers of such actions, but Asmodeus did not know what else he could do.

Hours before the ceremony, Asmodeus’ meditation was interrupted by his Master.

“Forgive me, young apprentice, for my intrusion” the Sullustan said politely as he sat down opposite his learner.

“You don’t intrude, Master,” Asmodeus replied, opening his eyes slowly as he brought his mind back to the here-and-now. He watched as his short teacher levitated himself to hover halfway between the floor and ceiling, before drawing the Force into himself and floating upward to join him.

“I have spent many hours meditating on your dual with Bea-Lund Kryss, and realise now that my opinion of events could have been flawed. Perhaps, as an old Jedi like myself, I am too attached to my pupil and wanted an excuse to train you for longer.”

The Sullustan paused, wiping his dew-flaps on the sleeve of his robe.

Asmodeus remained silent, allowing his Master time to collect his thoughts.

“I understand that he’s a close friend of yours, and your experiences are almost identical too his. Both taken into the Order at the same time in your lives, both apprenticed to Masters on the same day. So much in common, which led me to only one conclusion.”

The Sullustan grinned broadly, his dew-flaps quivering as he did so.

“Forgive me, Master, if I am unable to guess what it is you concluded,” Asmodeus said cautiously.

“You and Kryss should not be split up. Many Masters who have watched you both over the years agree, you work well together. As such, and this you will be told officially after your Knighting, you’re to be assigned to the same missions whenever possible.”

Asmodeus kept his facial expression placid, but knew he radiated joy into the Force at this revelation. It was a cruel galaxy; he was in no way naive to that fact, but it was comforting to know he’d be supported by someone he trusted, to be supported by a close friend.

“I feel you approval,” his Master stated as he lowered himself to the floor, “But don’t let it distract you -”
The dark feeling rose in Asmodeus’ again. He tried to fight it down, smother it with his joy at being Knighted and partnered with his closest friend.
“- you still have the Knighting ceremony to prepare for.”

The feeling faded as his Master wandered off, his presence in the Force always reachable but growing steadily further away. The dark feeling sat at the edge of Asmodeus’ perceptions, ever present, but had lost the strength to invade his thoughts.

***

Asmodeus and Kryss were sent across the galaxy, like many other Jedi Knight, to help protect peace and justice. From Mon Calamari to Vinsoth, they participated in missions ranging from simple disputes over shipping, to escorting ambassadors through potentially dangerous territories, to assisting in the recovery of old Jedi artefacts.

Approximately six months after receiving their Knighthood, Asmodeus and Kryss received orders to travel to the Ziost system.

A Republic frigate, Remembrance, fleeing from Sith-allied forces, picked up an automated distress signal coming from the system. With the Sith still in pursuit, they had no time to investigate the source of the signal. Ultimately Remembrance was annihilated by it’s Sith pursuers, but managed to transmit a detailed account of both it’s attackers and the signal it received.

The streaked lines of hyperspace faded back to pinpricks of light as Kryss’ blastboat, Womp Rat, returned to real space. The angular craft gracefully turned as it approached the planet from which the signal came, moving into a geosynchronous orbit. Like most ships of its class, the Rat contained sensitive sensors and other equipment ideal for long range reconnaissance.

“I’ve located the source of the beacon,” Asmodeus said from the co-pilots station, “The wreckage appears to be from a small cruiser, but I don’t recognise the configuration.”

“Any sign of Sith still in the area?”

Asmodeus adjusted the sensors to probe the system. “No, doesn’t look like it. I’d say they either shot this one down, or they just don’t care.”

“Probably both,” Kryss said, “We should still be careful.”

He made a few checks at the pilot station, drawing up the coordinates of the crashed shuttle, and then began to strap himself into his crash webbing.

“You’d better strap in,” he instructed Asmodeus, “Then we can go have a look at the crash.”

The exterior hull of the cruiser was cool to the touch, and the immediate area lacked the overpowering ozone scent caused by overheated engines. As they moved around the perimeter of the cruiser, Asmodeus noted the hull had remained in fair condition, while all the paint had burnt off, and the surface was pitted and scarred by the impact, there were no notable hull breaches. The entire engine block at the rear of the cruiser had been slagged into an almost unrecognisable blob, suggesting it had taken a direct hit from a high yield blaster cannon.

“It’s a wonder this thing is in such good condition,” Kryss said in awe, “A hit like that would destroy nearly every ship I can think of.”

Completing their survey of the shuttles interior, they headed for the nearest access hatch. The shuttles had landed leaning to its port side, burying the port side hatches and raising the starboard hatches toward the sky.

The two Jedi Knights leapt into the air, using the Force to propel them upward over the starboard lip of the craft and then gently down on either side of the closest hatch. Asmodeus drew his lightsaber, holding the emitter downward, and proceeded to slice around the hatch, taking advantage of only having to cut through the atmospheric seal rather than slicing an entryway through the outer hull. The hatch collapsed inward, landing with a loud thud that echoed through the empty halls of the vessel.

One after the other, the Jedi dropped through the hatch to land softly on top of the hatch. The instant he fell into the cruiser, Asmodeus felt the dark presence on the edge of his mind flair. Something about the ship invigorated the darkness, and Asmodeus found its new strength disturbingly comforting.

“So do we consider this the floor, or the wall?” Kryss asked as he stepped off the hatch.

“Floor,” Asmodeus replied, “Easier to keep things simple.”

The lights had failed long ago, what little the filtered through the hole in the ‘ceiling’ cast jagged shadows around the chamber the Jedi had dropped into. Moving cautiously across the floor, Kryss came to stand over one of the objects casting the shadows.

“It’s a droid, looks like a 3PO series,” he crouched down to get a closer look, examining the head and arm configuration. “Odd. It is a 3PO series body, but the head containers numerous diagnostic scanners, and the arms are those of a humanoid industrial repair droid.”

As they moved through the ship they continued to encounter more of the hybrid droids, each having a 3PO unit’s body, but otherwise modified to fulfil functions outside of data cataloguing or protocol and etiquette service.

“It would seem the ship is crewed completely by droids,” Kryss observed, stepping over the dust covered body of another maintenance unit.

“There would have had to have been one human on board,” Asmodeus countered, “And one who obviously wasn’t entirely comfortable with droids. Otherwise they would have been standard models, rather than hybrids that mimic human appearance.”

“We should find the bridge,” Kryss said uneasily, “I’d like to get off this ship as soon as possible. I find the crew… unsettling.”

The cruisers layout was standard for a vessel of its size, Asmodeus and Kryss finding the bridge without difficulty. Unlike the rest of the ship, the large view ports that surrounded the vessels command stations let in a fair amount of light. The Jedi walked cautiously, having to duck the computer consoles that jutted out at them, looking for one that looked usable. Most still had the droid crewers strapped into their seats, and all were covered in a thick layer of dust.

From the corner of his eye, Asmodeus noticed a small light winking from green to red. He backed toward the far wall, formerly the ceiling, to get a better look at the light’s source.

The light winked again, coming from the station at the very centre of all others. A large chair surrounded by a C-shaped bank of terminals, it was obvious that it was the captain’s station.

“Kryss, I think I’ve found a working terminal,” Asmodeus said, pointing up at the captain’s station, “Give me a boost.”

He scrambled up over dead droids and consoles, coming to rest in the base of the C. Carefully testing the strength of the captain’s chair; he pulled himself in, sitting on the back support. The light winked again, directly in front of Asmodeus, drawing his attention to a single screen in particular. While all others in the C-shaped bank were dead, this single computer still seemed to be receiving power. Asmodeus wiped the dust from the screen and controls, finding the light to indicate the computer was currently in a low-power ‘stand by’ mode. Tapping the key beside the light, the computer whirred to life.

Update ships log? appeared on the screen. The words flickered for a moment, then two new options appeared beneath.

Replay log.

Erase log.

Asmodeus selected ‘replay’ and watched as the screen began to display a list of dates. For the first few seconds, every date was followed by either –corrupted or –deleted. Finally, a series of dates appeared that seemed to be intact. Asmodeus selected the first, and the image of a gaunt human woman appeared on the screen. Her dark hair was matted to her face, both equally dirty. She may have once been quite attractive, but it was clear she hadn’t had time to maintain her beauty in some time.

“Blasted Sith! To think they first had the nerve to banish me from their Order, and then to shoot me down on this miserable rock. Treacherous, loathsome fiends! I could have made them great, my power was enough to turn the tide, to give them ultimate power, but the Empress refused to listen…”

“She seems bitter,” Kryss called up from where he stood, “Doesn’t look like that entry will do us any good.”

“It would seem so,” Asmodeus replied, skipping to the next entry.

“Palpatine was a worthy ruler; he knew how to control the galaxy. Subjugate the aliens, make them work for humans. That’s another weakness of the Empress’ order… aliens…”

The entries continued in this fashion, totalling at least five months worth of irregular updates, before something useful was found.

“My droids are failing. I have no way to maintain them and stay alive. At this moment, they are moving all the supplies into the hanger, and redirecting most of the power. Apart from this terminal, everything outside of the hanger will no longer receive power. Without my orders, the droid will simply remain where they are until their own power units fail. I swear I will survive; the Dark Side gives me strength to go on. If you ever come to finish what you started, Empress, I await you in the hanger. I know I can make my supplies last decades, and the power indefinitely. I know it was by her hand no one has come to get me off this rock, despite the fact there is an inhabited planet in the same system. But your treachery fuels my anger, and on this anger I can fuel the Dark Side to maintain my body.”

As the entry ended, a sharp ‘pop’ issued from the terminal, and black smoke began to pour from the heat exhaust.

“It doesn’t…look like we’ll… we’ll get to review those entries,” Asmodeus coughed, dropping from the chair back to the floor. He took a moment to centre himself, using the Force to regulate his breathing and filter the smoke from his lungs. “Well,” he said finally, “It looks like our next stop is the hanger.”

It was obvious that a lot of care had been taken in the preparation of the hanger. A makeshift floor had been constructed to support the few vessels found inside, compensating for the angle the ship had crashed at. Well over one hundred supply crates remained piled along one wall, most unopened. All of the lights automatically came on when the Jedi entered. Asmodeus noticed large power cables running from the few craft onto the makeshift deck and then down into the bowels of the ship. The hanger bay doors remained directly overhead, but the few vessels that remained all had decent enough repulsorlifts as standard equipment to easily clear the hanger.

“The captain kept these vessels powered and ready to leave,” Kryss said, climbing up the boarding ladder to an antiquated starfighter, “So why didn’t she just leave?”

“The starfighters don’t appear to be hyperspace capable,” Asmodeus said, walking around a second.

“What about that shuttle then?”

In the centre of the room sat an equally antiquated tri-winged shuttle. While much of its design leant toward the Lambda-class shuttles still in use, there were a number of major differences. The cockpit was rounded, with a large T-shaped view port. The side wings were long and pointed, meeting above the craft much like the Lambdas, but the third seemed to point backward rather than upward, although a majority remained over the front section of the shuttle.

“No idea,” Asmodeus said as he approached, “But I like the design.”

Kryss laughed. “Maybe, once we’ve reported back and the Jedi techs are finished going over it, they’ll let you keep it.”

“Maybe.” Asmodeus stood at the foot of the boarding ramp, and felt the darkness swell again. Something was drawing him inside; he could sense it, beckoning to him. “Do you want to see if the hanger doors still work? I’m going to have a look in the shuttle.”

Ascending the ramp, Asmodeus found himself in a spacious passenger compartment. It was obvious to him that it took up most of the ship. A cot sat in one corner, with a small table and a few chairs around it sitting opposite. A small chamber sat toward the rear, Asmodeus guessed it was a refresher. As well as the furniture, there was an extensive data card library. Scanning the titles of a few, he found most of it relating to either the Jedi or the Force in general. Some of the data cards contained teachings he himself had studied before being taken as an apprentice.

Moving through to the cockpit, Asmodeus was overcome by a foul stench. Retching violently, he staggered back into the passenger compartment. He centred himself in the Force, using it to assist his breathing and control his reflexes, and then re-entered the cockpit.

No Jedi technique could get rid of the smell, but now that he was prepared for it, Asmodeus could wilfully ignore most of it. Sitting in the pilot’s chair was a corpse. By the clothes it was wearing, Asmodeus could tell it was the captain, but the body itself was disfigured beyond recognition by decomposition in such an unnatural environment. Asmodeus leant over the body, prying the objects it clutched in what remained of its hands, a small chip that would fit in almost any data card, and an old lightsaber.

Pointing the emitter away from himself, Asmodeus hit the activator. The crimson blade spluttered to life, wavered, and failed. The internal circuits themselves were obviously in working condition, the crystals still in alignment, but the power cell had died.

“Easily replaced,” Asmodeus muttered. He made his way back through the ship to tell Kryss what he had discovered. As he reached the top of the ramp, and froze. An uneasy feeling waved over him through the Force. Asmodeus couldn’t tell why, but he was compelled to hide the chip. He buried it into his robes, and the uneasy feeling was replaced with one of unappalled comfort.

Drawing his robe back around himself, and quickly dusting off the lightsaber, he descended down the ramp.

Darth Acrimonus

Asmodeus and Kryss returned to the Jedi Order, reporting what they had discovered in the Ziost system. A recovery operation was mounted, bringing the cruisers computer core, as well as the craft in the hanger, a few of the 3PO units, and any other object of interest back to the Jedi Temple for further study. Over the following month every object was thoroughly examined.

The data cards found onboard the shuttle that didn’t contradict the Jedi teachings were added to the vast library held within the Temple, but a majority were destroyed, the Masters fearing the knowledge contained within would corrupt impressionable apprentices understanding of the Force.

The 3PO units were of little use, most of them melting down their own circuits upon realising they were no longer in the possession of their master. The last unit, who the technicians managed to make incapable of melting its own circuits, instead took a welder to its memory chips at the first opportunity.

The starfighters were dismissed almost instantly. Being standard models, they were checked for traps, and then added to the Temple’s collection of fighters.

The shuttle, identified as an early Imperial Theta-class transport, remained under analysis for the better part of the month. While its interior seemed standard, the Masters unanimously agreed that a Dark Side presence could be felt onboard. It was assumed that this was residual, created unintentionally by the shuttles previous owner, they did not want to risk exposing their students to the influence of the Dark Side unnecessarily. Ultimately, the council had no objections to Asmodeus claiming use of the shuttle for missions, but felt they must be sure it was free of the Dark Side presence first.

Of everything brought back, the computer core caused the most trouble. Partially damaged in the crash, interfacing with it proved difficult, and when an interface was establish the technicians couldn’t attempt to access, retrieve, and restore the information contained without seriously risking losing everything. They managed to find a backup of the ships log, and began the time consuming process of piecing the damaged entries back together. The ships captain could not be identified from the few entries still intact.

Meanwhile, the Jedi Healers had examined the corpse found aboard the shuttle, and summoned the Knights to their chamber.

[Kryss, Asmodeus,] the Wookiee Master Healer growled, [Thankyou for coming.]

“Master Healer,” the Jedi said in unison, bowing as they approached.

[I’m afraid my news is not good,] the Wookiee paused, an untranslatable purr coming from deep in his throat, [I’ve already informed the council, and they agreed you both should be told.]

“What is it?” Kryss asked.

[We were able to map the decomposition of the body, to estimate the most likely appearance of the person in question before their death. While her clothes matched those of the ships captain, her face was far from that recorded in the ships log.]

“So the captain is still out there?” Kryss asked. Asmodeus felt Kryss’ presence in the Force become more definite, knowing Kryss was drawing in energy to increase his awareness.

“Even if she is we have no idea where to find her,” Asmodeus replied, “Master Healer, do you know the identity of our… victim?”
Asmodeus was reluctant to speak the last word. He knew his assumption to be correct, the familiar confidence of knowledge passed on via the Force filling him as he spoke it. But the unnatural state in which the body had been found plainly showed a horrific death, on only achievable by a skilled practitioner of the Dark Side of the Force.

The Wookiee healer let out a soft, mournful growl. [Quite well, I’m afraid.]

He took a moment to compose himself, shaggy fur shaking as the
Wookiee sought to keep his emotions under control. When he resumed, neither his outward appearance nor presence in the Force betrayed what he must have been feeling inwardly. [This is the body of Jedi Knight Yvanae Tchi, one of my former Padawans. It was back during the Yuuzhan Vong invasion she vanished from the Order. The last mission she undertook for the Order sent her out to Belkadan. It was a standard reconnaissance mission, to gather intelligence about Yuuzhan Vong fleet activity. When she failed to report back we sent a team of Knights to Belkadan, assuming the worst, but found Tchi had completed her mission. She'd left behind a complete set of records, disguised to prevent the Vong from destroying the machinery, but no indication of what had drawn her away. After that, we scouted every system in close proximity of the Hydian Way, from Toprawa to Bonadan. We never thought to search out as far as Ziost. Considering it's strong association with the Sith, I doubt we would have checked there had it been closer. As far as we knew, she’d come to a revelation that drove her away from the Jedi Order, completing the mission she was duty bound to and then taking off to follow her own individual path.]

“Perhaps she decided to join the cruisers captain,” Kryss speculated, “But was ultimately left behind when the ship crashed.”

[I doubt it. From what I’ve been told, the shuttles hyperdrive was damaged during the crash, and no replacement parts were found. It seems more likely that what ever Tchi was doing led her to Ziost, and it was there she was killed and her ship taken. And, from our best estimates, Tchi was not that much older at the time of her death than when she left for her final mission.]

“So it’s possible the cruisers captain escaped with the Tchi’s ship and is now in hiding from who ever shot her down in the first place.”

[Given the knowledge of the Dark Side it would take to do this to a person,] the Wookiee turned a large hand toward Tchi’s body, [That unless those who left her on Ziost have managed to finish what they started, the captain will most certainly be alive.]

“Is there anything more we can do for you?” Kryss asked.

[Thankyou, but no. I must meet with the Council and a number of other Masters to discuss what we know. If the Dark Sider who killed Tchi is still alive, we must make sure she cannot harm any others.]

The two Jedi bowed in respect and left the chamber.

* * *

With no intelligence as to where the Dark Sider who killed Yvanae Tchi had fled too Asmodeus and Kryss resumed their normal duties as Jedi Knights. For the better part of a fortnight the pair had been jumping from system to system in the Outer Rim, tracking a group of pirates who had been raiding numerous settlements. Things had taken a complicated turn when it was revealed the pirates were raiding any settlement, including those under the control of the Hutt cartels.

During the war with the Yuuzhan Vong, many Hutt controlled systems were invaded and Vong-formed, including Nal Hutta and Nar Shadda. The Hutt’s had fought to keep their worlds, but the Yuuzhan Vong forces had prevailed, driving those who survived to take on a nomadic lifestyle. Even as nomads, the Hutt cartels managed to continue to make profits dealing with fringe resistance cells throughout the Rim worlds, and were able to pool their resources into retaking their worlds. Both Nal Hutta and Nar Shadda had been high on the Hutt priorities, both being returned to relative glory rapidly after the wars end, to serve as an end to the nomadic lifestyle and a base to re-establish the cartels.

Not wanting to take any unnecessary risks, the Jedi Order had sent another team of Jedi Knights.

The bright disc of Iego’s sun slipped behind the planet, creating a fiery halo behind the Knights as they exited the atmosphere.

The backup team had brought a small carrier and a full squadron of fighters, a modern revival of the V-19 Torrent. The new models benefited from onboard hyperdrives, as well as X-wing equivalent shields and laser cannons. The final upgrade was an experimental system. Each starfighter was equipped with a remote targeting system for a blaster turret on each side of their carrier. But, with only twelve Jedi in total, the carrier itself had to remain on the planets surface, greatly reducing the impact of the weapon.

“It’s a beautiful thing,” Allys Frent, Duros Jedi and fighter ace, rumbled in deep tones typical of his species, “When nature gives us a glorious introduction.”

Frent was the leader of Halo Squadron, and had a flair for the dramatic. Flying his squadron to engage a potential enemy with the halo of an eclipsed sun behind him was his signature manoeuvre, even if it also was the source of a number of jokes behind Frent’s back.

“Our prey zeemz lesz than impreszed,” replied Barabel Tyra Tebran.

Approaching from the far end of the system, the pirate’s trio of cruisers didn’t even seem to have noticed the lone squadron of Jedi fighters. They arced slowly toward Iego, transmitting their demands over the public comm channels.

“…all raw materials you have. Send them into orbit in unarmed freighters. Any resistance will be met with force. You have fifteen minutes to show you’ll comply by getting the first freighter into orbit, we will discuss the overall dead line then.”

The comm fell silent.

“Do you think the government is going to comply?” the soft voice of Seyphia T’enon asked. As a young apprentice, Asmodeus had been extremely infatuated with Seyphia, and it was only the knowledge that the squadron would soon be entering combat that kept his mind completely focussed.

“Only if they lack faith in us,” Kryss said, “We made sure to outline our plans clearly.”

“Thiz one thinkz they will still comply,” Tebran hissed, “If only to zave their skinz if thingz go wrong.”

“Cut the chatter and prepare for our approach,” Frent ordered, his presence in the Force instantly refining itself as he readied the squadron. “Arm weapons and report in.”

“Copy that Halo Leader,” Tebran replied, “Halo Two armed and ready.

“Halo Three ready, sir.”

“Halo Four standing by.”

The call went down the list, every fighter reporting in without hesitation, finally coming to Asmodeus.

“Halo Twelve ready,” he said into comm, bringing his tactical display online and giving all systems one last check. All Jedi were trained to be able to handle starfighter combat, but the number of times Asmodeus had flown into a true battle he could count on one hand.

“Don’t panic,” Seyphia said soothingly, “We’ve done this more times than I can remember. Just follow Frent’s lead and you’ll be fine.”

“Kill all chatter,” Frent ordered, although he waited until he was sure Seyphia had finished speaking.

And so the twelve fighters accelerated toward the cruisers, breaking into three quartets, one for each cruiser. They made their pass, both as a warning to the pirates and to identify key targets. Looping back in a tight turn, the Jedi saw the underside of all three cruisers issuing forth clouds of fighters. While the models varied greatly, every single enemy ship was painted bright orange, with a sharp black V running from nose to tail.

“Manoeuvre in between the cruisers,” Frent ordered, “They won’t risk firing their turrets in case they hit their own ships. Do not fire unless fired upon.”

The Jedi flights regrouped into pairs of six, running down each side of the pirate cruisers. The orange fighters fell into pursuit, a number engaging target locks on the Jedi, but refrained from firing.

“I shall count that as your one mistake,” the pirates snapped over the comm, “You’ve gauged our strength. Now comply, or we shall reduce your settlements to rubble.”

The pirate fighters broke their pursuit, returning to swarm around the cruisers. Asmodeus sat anxiously in his cockpit, watching the chrono tick over, counting down the seconds until the deadline ended. Fifteen minutes passed, then sixteen. As the chrono hit seventeen, the comm engaged again.

“Very well.”

The cruiser closest to the planet began to send flashes of coherent light toward the surface, the blossoms of their impacts evident from space. The firing stopped as the fighters moved toward the surface, obviously preparing for strafing runs.

“Engage those fighters now!” Frent ordered, his starfighter lurching forward under sudden acceleration.

The rest of the squadron reacted through Force attuned instinct, taking off with Frent before he’d finished issuing his order. The enemy fighters pulled away from the planet to meet with the Jedi squadron.

“I think we just did what they wanted us too,” Kryss said, his fighter flicking sidewards to avoid a concussion missile.

The Jedi squadron entered the cloud of enemy ships, blowing their way through with their laser cannons and trusting their wing mates to do the same. Using the Force to coordinate their movements, the Jedi disabled craft where ever possible, letting them drift into an orbit that would prevent the cruisers from firing again at the surface.

“This is insane!” Asmodeus felt overwhelmed in the cloud of enemy fighters, watching them swarm wildly about his ship as he blasted his way through.

Lacking Force intuition, the enemy squadron became uncoordinated by the direct assault, taking more casualties to friendly fire. The Jedi burst through the other side of the fighter cloud, causing more craft to collide as they all tried to gain an advantage and assault the Jedi from behind.

“Break back into your quartets as you come around,” Frent ordered, “Prepare to strafe the cruisers.”

The Jedi squadron broke apart, each quartet unleashing a continuous volley of laser fire along their targets shields. Orange flashes in turn shot overhead, strafing the Jedi from the other direction, adding a majority of their shots unintentionally to the Jedi assault as they missed their target.
It was obvious the pirates lacked any experience against coordinated enemies.

“It’z a wonder the Huttz haven’t already swatted thiz pezt,” Tebran hissed.

“Don’t underestimate them, Tyra,” Seyphia replied, “They may not have expected resistance, but I’ve a feeling they are equipped to handle it.”

The Jedi starfighters finished their run and shot past the cruisers, but the gap between them was far less than Asmodeus expected.

“The cruisers are moving,” Asmodeus said, “It looks like they’re trying to get past their disabled ships to fire on the surface.”

“As they were expected too,” Frent replied, a wave of confidence issuing out from him through the Force, “Double back, make a run along the cruisers, designating any vital targets.”

The Jedi did as instructed, shooting over the cruisers and marking any vital systems they came across. Frent ordered them to come around again, and shoot forward past the cruisers again. The Jedi came back, pummelling the shields with their laser cannons.

The cruisers continued to lumber forward, assuming the fighters only orders were to make strafing runs. As the final cruiser cleared the group of disabled fighters, the first flash reached the atmosphere. The bright blob of coherent light streaked up at the closest cruiser, striking its designated target. More followed, taking the cruisers by surprise.

“It looks like the remote turrets work,” Kryss said as the central cruiser shuddered visibly, then split in two.

The enemy fighters swarmed back toward their hangers, many being struck by stray turret blasts. The two remaining cruisers turned sluggishly, attempting to clear the planets gravity well and jump for hyperspace.

“Good work Halos,” Frent rumbled, “I doubt they’ll be a problem any longer.”

Frent turned his fighter toward the planet, sending the squadron landing coordinates far enough away from the cruiser to avoiding flying into its firing arc.

Asmodeus turned slower than the others, a cold worry washing over him.

“Asmodeus?” Seyphia said, “Are you ok?”

Asmodeus pulled out of his descent, turning his fighter to face the cruisers exit vector.

“J’yph?” Seyphia pulled out of her descent, as did Kryss, and both came to fly on either side of Asmodeus, close enough to see each pilot in their cockpit.

“I have a very bad feeling about this,” Asmodeus said. The cruisers leapt into hyperspace, but the cold feeling persisted.

“J’yph, they’re gone,” Kryss reassured him, “We can return to the planet.”
The turret fire from the surface ceased, and Kryss began to slave his ships controls to Asmodeus’.

“What’z going on?” Tebran demanded.

“Asmodeus felt something wrong before the cruisers left,” Kryss replied, “But I don’t sense anything. I’m going to sla–”

Kryss fell silent as a frigate exited hyperspace on a vector parallel to that of the cruisers. In every fighter, the tactical display flashed, showing three frigates and a Dreadnaught approaching Iego on converging vectors.

* * *

The Jedi squadron regrouped quickly, looping around one of Iego’s legendary moons. The moons mass hid the starfighters from the pirate’s sensors, and comm traffic between lunar outposts and the planet itself masked their own transmissions.

“We’re in no position to engage those frigates,” Frent rumbled, “And it would be foolish to assume the remote targeting trick will work again.”

“We can’t just abandon these people,” Kryss responded, “After all; it was our attack that provoked them to send for reinforcements.”

“Thiz one agreez. We muzt finish thiz hunt.”

“It would be suicide, we have no choice but to jump to the nearest allied world and call for reinforcements.”

“Those people don’t have that long,” Asmodeus replied coldly, “Leaving now would condemn them to their death.”

“And if we engage them? We die, and then the people are attacked with no hope of any reinforcement.”

“You don’t need to leave the system to send for help,” Seyphia replied, “We can relay our message through a lunar outpost.”

“That will still take days to be filtered through to the Jedi, to make sure the message isn’t a fraud.”

“Send it out as a general call then,” Asmodeus said.

“That will take even longer to reach the Jedi,” Frent replied, his impatience evident in his voice.

“But not the Hutts.”

“We cannot truzt the Huttz,” Tebran snarled.

“We can trust them to protect their territories,” Asmodeus replied, “We know these pirates have been attacking Hutt controlled worlds, if given a specific location they can be guaranteed to make a show of force to eliminate the threat and deter any others.”

“It would still take time for them to get here,” Frent replied, “Time those people don’t have.”

“We can distract them,” Kryss said confidently.

The comm fell silent. Asmodeus could feel Frent’s struggle to come up with a strategy to appear threatening enough to the pirates without sacrificing any of the squadron. Finally, Frent outlined what he felt was the best course of action, and the Jedi moved out from behind the moon.
The four ships had taken equatorial orbits, each evenly spaced, but they hadn’t fired at the surface yet. The Jedi knew instantly they’d been noticed, the closest frigate’s fighters swarming from their holds. These fighters were also painted bright orange, but the black markings varied from fighter to fighter, indicating their combat experience.

“Lookz like the firzt wave were rookiez,” Tebran rasped, “Thiz hunt shall be far more interezting.”

The Jedi fighters broke off into pairs, fanning out in an attempt to draw the enemy fighter groups away from each other. It worked, to a degree, a flight of six moving to engage each pair, but the majority of enemy fighters hung back. They hovered about the frigate, ready to move to wherever they were most needed rather than committing themselves to a target.

“Krysz,” Tebran said as the first fighters approached their pair, “When I zay bank hard to the right, zee if we can draw half each acrosz their allies flight pathz.”

“Acknowledged,” Kryss replied.

Sitting to the right of Tebran and Kryss, Asmodeus readied himself to take out the fighters that would be following him. His comm clicked once, Seyphia indicating her readiness, and he clicked his twice in response.

“Now!”

To his left, Asmodeus saw the sudden volley of blaster fire, Kryss and Tebran had engaged the enemy. As predicted, the attackers broke into trios to chase their fleeing prey. Kryss shot past, the glow from his engines flashing, before Asmodeus felt his fingers depressing the triggers. Bolts of coherent light shot from his fighter’s cannons, punching through one enemy starfighter and leaving it in ruin. Close by, he could feel Seyphia’s calm control as her first target exploded, and her cannon bolts lanced through space chasing the final enemy. Within a few seconds the final fighter was reduced to debris.

“This is going to be close,” Asmodeus muttered to himself, as both he and

Seyphia continued to fly toward the debris they’d just created.

The six starfighters targeting the pair continued forward, closing the distance between the Jedi and themselves. With a sharp crackle Asmodeus’ shields flashed, and he knew a small piece of debris had struck them.

“Keep going,” Seyphia said over the comm, “We need to draw them closer.”

The enemy continued to accelerate closer, the orange dots silhouetted by their engine emissions growing more detailed. And then that detail was lost behind bright flashes, laser shots streaking past.

“Now.” Unlike Tebran, Seyphia’s order was spoken quietly, but still carried a strong commanding presence behind it. Asmodeus dived suddenly in the direction he perceived as down, Seyphia the opposite, around the main body of the debris cloud. The enemy didn’t have time to react; accelerating to fast to catch their targets they had left themselves no time to even contemplate manoeuvring. The shockwave from multiple explosions pressed Asmodeus into his seat, his starfighter shuddering as he fought to keep in on course.

With half of the squadron now free of assaulting fighters, they regrouped and moved to lend assistance to those being engaged. But the first wave of fighters the pirates had sent were merely a distraction, allowing the Dreadnaught and remaining frigates to reposition themselves around the Jedi squadron, leaving them no hope of escape.

“May the Force be with us all,” Frent murmured.

The three repositioned ships seemed to hang in waiting for an eternity. Asmodeus’ heart pounded, he could hear it over the whine of his fighter’s engines. The Jedi craft circled around each other, bordered by the enemy ships.

And then all hell broke loose.

Bright orange fighters swarmed from every ship, converging rapidly on the Jedi fighters, their flight paths bordered by flaring blazes of turbolaser fire. The Jedi scrambled for safety, the squadron breaking up randomly.
Asmodeus felt a fellow pilot’s presence wink out in the Force before their craft exploded. In the place he once felt the comforting presence of a fellow Knight, there was now a void, and the darkness grew a little stronger.

The shockwave knocked his starfighter into a wild spin. Instinctively, Asmodeus began to squeeze the trigger, sending random bolts flying. The tactic was as dangerous to allied pilots as it was to the enemy, but Asmodeus trusted that the Force would keep them from harm’s way.
Asmodeus pulled out of his spin, coming around beneath one of the frigates. He lined up his craft with the underside hanger, arming a pair of concussion missiles. His thumb hovered over the button, waiting for the best time to launch, until the void suddenly grew larger. Another member of Halo squadron’s life was cut short, another promising Jedi Knight slain, and the darkness inside Asmodeus continued to grow.

Dragging himself away from his grim thoughts, Asmodeus hit the fire control. The blue streaking tails of his missiles arced gracefully from his fighter. He watched them come about, correcting their flight path to compensate for his late firing, and strike the surface of the frigate half a meter from the hanger bay.

Asmodeus swung away from the frigate, weaving around a volley of turbolaser blasts.

The Force continually fed Asmodeus information, when to bank or turn suddenly, when to fire, but under such hectic conditions the amount of information became overwhelming. Too often, Asmodeus sensed the need to turn, only to find himself manoeuvring into the path of another enemy fighter.

Through the Force he could also feel the squadron being blown apart around him. Frent, Tebran, a majority of the squadron was dead.
The bitter feeling rose in Asmodeus, his anger at the pirates for slaughtering Jedi, for slaughtering his friends. He hated the pirates for what they were attempting to do on Iego, for what they’d done on numerous other worlds. And he hated himself for surviving where better pilots had failed.

Asmodeus knew he should be suppressing these emotions, but in the middle of this senseless battle they brought him clarity. The Force’s instructions no longer led him astray, they made him efficient. He could feel the Force flowing through his entire being, carrying him, giving him the insight to punish his companion’s killers. Weaving through the battle on his feelings alone he ruthlessly and efficiently executed every enemy fighter he could. All he knew was the feeling, deaf to Seyphia and Kryss as they pleaded with him to respond, concerned by the turmoil of emotions they sensed within him.

Asmodeus was only snapped out of his rage when the tactical display unexpectedly began issue out a warning tone. Glancing at the display, Asmodeus saw multiple capital ships exit hyperspace. The new ships moved to engage the pirates, bombarding them with turbolaser fire.

“Thank the Force,” Kryss sighed, “It’s the Hutts.”

The frigates and Dreadnaught lurched forward, attempting to flee the system, abandoning their fighters. The Hutt vessels moved to intercept, trapping the three frigates and reducing them to debris. The Dreadnaught managed to evade the Hutt ships, although still taking considerable fire, and limped out of the system. After a moment of pseudomotion, it vanished into hyperspace. With the major pirate vessels no longer a concern, the Hutt ships sent out their fighters to clean up the remaining enemy ships in the area, ignoring the remaining trio of Jedi fighters.

Without any further communication, the Jedi descended towards the planets surface, ready to collect their carrier and make their way back to the Temple.

Darth Acrimonus

Asmodeus stood before the Jedi Council with Seyphia and Kryss. The Master questioned them, as well as each other, cross-examining the trios’ account of events in the Iego system. After almost two hours of questions, with each of the Knights giving near identical answers, the Masters dismissed Kryss and Seyphia.

“J’yph, we sense an emotional struggle within you that is of great concern to us.” The Head of the Jedi Council, Master Abba, cast an uneasy glance toward a fellow member, Jaden Nightsaber, then continued to address Asmodeus. “We understand that you’ve witnessed a number of your fellow Knights perish needlessly,
and it is natural to feel some loss over that. Both Kryss and Seyphia carry within themselves the hollow feeling of people in mourning, but they keep their feelings in check. Inside you, all we sense is chaos.”

“When left unchecked, such emotion is a path to the Dark Side,” another Master, Asil - who more commonly went by 'Shatterpoint' - continued, “And while that power is tempting, while that power feels right, it leads the user ultimately to pain, despair and betrayal.”

“Forgive me if I sound ignorant, Masters,” Asmodeus replied, “But what of the teachings that the Force itself has no distinction of Light or Dark, that it is the user who makes the action ‘evil’.”

“There has been much debate over this matter,” Abba retorted, “But it is still evident that giving such power to those unready will ultimately lead them to the Dark Side.”

“So I am unready for the power that resides within myself?” Asmodeus could sense the Masters sending each other their impressions of the direction the discussion was taking via a Force meld, and although he could not intercept those thoughts he suspected the worst.

“To put it simply, no you’re not.” Abba stood, and made her way over to Asmodeus, placing her hands on Asmodeus’ shoulders.

“You’re a good Jedi, J’yph. Your plan to call on the Hutts was sound, and your dedication to your duty to the people of Iego unquestionable.” Abba’s expression turned solemn, “But we also know the toll the death of your fellow Knights had on you. The presence of the Dark Side energies you used to fuel your assault on the enemy fighters lingers. You have taken the first steps toward the Dark Side, and while it maybe easy for you to return to the Light now; if you continue to be tempted toward the Dark Side you shall soon pass a point of no return.”

“As I understand, many Jedi have returned from the Dark Side. The Skywalker’s, Master Durron, even Jaina Solo. And what of Master Shatterpoint, she skirts closely to the Dark Side everytime she uses Vaapad in battle?”

“Yes, that’s true. But the burden on those who have turned back has forced them, for better or worse, to have to examine their actions carefully, for the smallest of mistakes could send slipping back toward darkness,” Rive Caedo replied, "As for Asil, she is a Jedi Master, and veteran of the Clone War. It has taken her many years to reach the level of Mastery she possesses, and even for her it can be extremely trying at times."

“Yes, Master Caedo,” Asmodeus replied, submitting, “Forgive me.”

“As I said, you are a good Jedi. I have no doubts you will one day make a wise Master. But remember, you’ve been a Knight for less than a year, there is still much for you to learn.”

“Thankyou, Master,” Asmodeus bowed to show his respect to Abba, as Head of the Jedi Council, and then turned to bow again before the Council as a whole. “Thankyou to all of you.”

“J’yph, we think it would be best for you to spend sometime at the Temple. It will give you time to meditate on your loss, as well as catch up with your former Master," Master Shatterpoint said sympathetically, "And, if you feel up to it, I’m sure many of the instructors could use your assistance teaching the younger students.”

“Yes Master Shatterpoint, I will look into it.” Asmodeus bowed once more, and the Council dismissed him.

***

Asmodeus sat cross-legged at the centre of his personal chamber in the Jedi Temple. Try as he might, he found himself unable to meditate.

“Perhaps the Council is right,” he said to himself, “Maybe there is too much emotional turmoil within me.”

He closed his eyes again, trying to clear his mind of all thought and surrender himself to the Force, but the chip he’d taken from Yvanae Tchi’s body interrupting. Finally, Asmodeus got up and fetched the chip from where he’d stored it.

When he had first tried it in a data card, just after returning from Ziost, he had been unable to access any information from it. He had continued to attempt to see what was stored on it since then with no luck, and had little faith that this time would be any different.

Slotting it into his data card, he tried to call up the contents of the chip. For a moment the screen remained blank, and then a series of Aurebesh symbols formed.

Jedi pupil who has tracked down the body of the Order’s lost Knight, it is a pleasant surprise you are able to access this chip. Or perhaps you are simply a unique pirate come to salvage the wreck, and found the chip in the hands of the dead ‘captain’. It matters not where you come from. I congratulate you on unleashing the power of the Dark Side within yourself, and should you seek me out, I will train you to master that
power.

Asmodeus almost dropped the data card from shock. Was it true, had he truly given in to the Dark Side of the Force? His thoughts wandered, bringing back his rage during the battle over Iego, the clarity it had granted him then.

Looking back at the card, he noticed the display had changed.

I hope you’re still in possession of my shuttle. The hyperdrive was damaged, forcing me to take the Jedi’s craft. If you get it working, or as it’s more likely you’ll have a vessel of your own, you can find the coordinates of my intended sanctuary from the forces of Empress Chick hidden in a compartment at the foot of the shelves collecting the many teachings I’ve studied.

The display changed, showing a blue print of the Theta-class shuttle, labelling where the compartment should be located.

Like the data on this chip, the compartment is only accessible by those who have opened themselves to the Dark Side of the Force. I welcome any student with enough potential to access both chip and compartment. You shall be one of many, if you come, and we shall have glory when we crush that pitiful Empire and resurrect it with myself as ruler. Then the galaxy will know the true power of the Dark Side, the power of true Sith, and order will finally be achieved.

The words he’d read troubled Asmodeus. He knew of Empress Chick and the power of her Empire, every Jedi did. Every time a power hungry underling created a splinter faction the Empress’ finest saw to it they suffered for their disobedience, as well as ensured the untimely death of any innocents who got caught in the middle.

Despite his misgivings, Asmodeus also found himself unnaturally curious about the offer. He wanted to take the shuttle and seek the woman who had been on the crashed cruisers log.

But this desire ultimately led him to agree with the Council’s decisions. They were Jedi Masters, and they felt the turmoil within him. It would be best for him to take some time away from missions, helping teach Younglings while he sought to overcome the conflicting feelings within himself.

Asmodeus returned the chip to its hiding place, not yet ready to confess he had it, and returned to his meditation. The discovery had helped put his mind into vague focus, and Asmodeus soon lost himself to the Force as he meditated.

33 ABY

After five weeks the Jedi Council decided Asmodeus was ready to resume taking missions for the Order. He had spent most of his time over those weeks either helping tutor the Younglings in basic Force-telekinesis or, for the final two weeks, familiarising himself with the operation of the Theta-class shuttle. Its hyperdrive had been repaired, and although their was still a residual dark presence within the ship, the Masters agreed that it was not strong enough to be of concern. As a show of trust, they had declared the shuttle to be Asmodeus’ personal transport unless a mission required otherwise.

Asmodeus sat in the briefing room beside Kryss, waiting for the members of the Jedi Council to arrive and brief them on their new mission.

Kryss had recently returned from mediating a dispute between a number of shipping companies. The government of Naboo agreed to host the heads of the companies, claiming to be a neutral location, as its economy relied heavily on a number of imports and exports carried by the companies.

“It’s a beautiful planet,” Kryss was saying, “Wide green plains, and a number of calm lakes. Extremely tranquil, when you get out of the cities, which is easy enough. Fantastic place to meditate, you really visit it some time.”

“Not really my ideal climate,” Asmodeus said absently. While he had enjoyed helping with the instruction of the Younglings, he couldn’t help but feel imprisoned, the Masters keeping him within the Temple grounds as much as possible over the past five weeks.

“Right,” Kryss laughed, “You’d be far happier on Hoth. Frigid, bitter winds and plains of white snow on jagged grey rock as far as the eye can see.”

“Very funny,” Asmodeus replied, “But yes, I prefer a colder climate.”

“No kidding. I remember you taking me to meet your family once, living on one of those floating cities that houses the crews for the gas refineries, topped by expensive hotels and 'establishments dedicated to the study of statistical probabilities'. That high up into a planets atmosphere and you’ve to worry about your breath freezing in your lungs.”

“You told me you enjoyed meeting them,” Asmodeus retorted, “Anyway, it was no worse than when you took me to see your homeworld. Kuati seem only to care about ship building, I don’t think I’d been given so many tours of industrial facilities in my life.”

“My parents were just trying to make you feel comfortable. After all, to a majority of the rest of the galaxy all Bespin has are casinos and industrial facilities.”

Their conversation ended as the Masters that made up the Jedi Council entered the room, sitting opposite the pair of Jedi Knights. Abba took her place at the centre of the Council, with Rive Caedo, Jaden Nighsaber and Vikro to her left, and Asil 'Shatterpoint' Leikane to her right. Beside Shatterpoint sat the Togruta Jedi Koras Aldamaer. As one of the Order's most respected Knights, he was often asked to join the Jedi Council as an advisor.

The Council members ordered their few possessions, mostly datacards, before Vikro began. “We have recently received a plea for assistance from a number of Tibanna gas refineries in the Bespin system. A number of collection platforms have been attacked recently, losing not only their supplies of raw, unfrozen gas, but also a number of droids and other equipment. The gas itself is rendered useless if not carbon frozen almost instantly, which suggests the thieves must have established their own carbon freezing facility. Even so, all evidence we were given seems to suggest that the perpetrators are just petty thieves trying to make some easy money selling the gas on illegal markets. The pair of you should have very little trouble sorting it out.”

Vikro passed a datacard to Kryss. “This contains everything we were given when our assistance was requested. The last time something like this happened was during the Killik crisis, so the Bespinian government is understandably concerned.”

Kryss scanned the contents quickly, then handed the datacard to Asmodeus who did the same.

“Of course, you have the right to refuse this mission if you want to," Rive Caedo added, "There are a number of Jedi available to deal with it.”

“I’m willing to do it,” Asmodeus said as he studied the data. He couldn’t help but feel that Master Caedo was addressing him specifically, as if he’d been instructed to give him more time if he hadn’t fully overcome his trauma.

“As you said, Master Vikro,” Kryss said, “It’s probably just a small group trying to make a lot of profit with little effort. There shouldn’t be any problems.”

“Very well," Vikro replied, "We’ll have you cleared to depart as soon as you’re ready.”

Asmodeus tucked the datacard inside his robe, then he and Kryss bowed and left the briefing room.

“Looks like you’ve some bad luck,” Asmodeus said, “We’ll be spending a lot of time high up in Bespins atmosphere where you’ve to worry about your breath freezing in your lungs.”

“Very funny,” Kryss replied sarcastically, “We shouldn’t need more than an hour to get things together, so I’ll meet you in the hanger then?”

“Works for me.”

Asmodeus watched Kryss turn and head off down an adjacent corridor, then made his way to his personal chamber. It did seem odd to him, sending two Jedi to handle petty criminals, but any chance to see his homeworld lightened his spirits, and he was in no mood to question his good fortune.

* * *

The clouds, lit orange against the gas giant below, parted to reveal a small floating platform, one on a list provided by the Bespin government detailing all that had been stolen from. Like the previous four Asmodeus had visited, they all looked identical. He turned to look through the transparisteel to the pilot of the twin-pod Cloud Car he was using to conduct an overview of the platforms. The pilot remained focussed, his presence the only one Asmodeus could sense in the immediate vicinity.

“Do you want to set down?” the pilots voice crackled through the intercom.

“No,” Asmodeus replied, “I don’t sense anything out of the ordinary. Make another pass, and then return to base.”

“Very well.”

Asmodeus surveyed the platform as the Cloud Car arced around, and then watched it vanish back into the cloud. None of the platforms surveyed showed any signs of being damaged, no evidence of the gas supplies being forcibly taken.

“Find anything?” Kryss’ voice queried over the comm, “Every platform I’ve passed has shown nothing.”

“Same here,” Asmodeus replied.

“Could someone at the local city be responsible? High enough up in the power structure to get away with it on their own base, but having to report theft to cover themselves from answering to the overall planetary government?”

Asmodeus pondered the question for a moment. A number of Bespin’s highest ranking officials were known gamblers, but Tibanna gas profits were usually high, giving them more than enough money to cover them.

“I wouldn’t think so,” Asmodeus replied, “They’d have to have created a substantial gambling debt to even consider it.”

“People are greedy,” Kryss replied cynically, “Especially the rich.”

“Even so, if you want to make extra money on Bespin you open a casino. That way you can rip people off without having the government investigating your actions.”

The dome of an atmospheric city rose over the cloud. The pilot brought the Cloud Car lower, lining it up with a rapidly growing black slit on the surface. As they came closer, the hemispherical appearance of the city slowly dissolved, numerous towers coming into focus jutting upward from the surface. This city was no where near as majestic as the infamous Cloud City, but the approach was still stunning.

“I’m almost back,” Asmodeus informed Kryss, “Shall we meet up at the eastern observation deck to discuss this further?”

“Sounds good,” Kryss replied.

The city swelled to fill all of Asmodeus’ vision. Through the Force, he could sense the numerous beings throughout the city, going about their typical daily business. Asmodeus had always felt the presences, even before he or anyone else realised his Force potential, and he had been quite uncomfortable the first few trips he’d taken away from the city. Returning to it always filled him with nostalgia, the kind of deep sentimental attachment the Jedi Order tried to drill out of their pupils.

“It’s nice to be home,” Asmodeus said to himself, then settled back and waited for the Cloud Car to land.

***

The two Jedi Knights stood facing a floor-to-ceiling transperisteel panel on the upper level on the observation deck. Bespin’s sun had set, leaving only the light that was refracted through the thick atmosphere of the gas giant below casting an eerie gloom over everything they saw.

“Do you still suspect an Administrator of this city?” Asmodeus asked, drawing his cloak tighter around himself.

The observation deck was a public place, and many beings of various species had gathered throughout. And even though the Jedi Order had returned to and maintained a power comparable to its Old Republic incarnation for decades, people still marvelled at the obvious presence of Jedi in their midst. More so, people still carried stigmas from Palpatine’s regime, after many decades they still mistrusted Jedi, and felt it necessary to eavesdrop on their conversations.

“You can’t just dismiss it,” Kryss replied. Unlike Asmodeus, he stood confidently, robe hanging loose and lightsabers hanging obviously upon his belt. “It is a reasonable explanation.”

“It would be reasonable with evidence,” Asmodeus countered, “And we have none.”

“Exactly, an absence of solid evidence suggests someone local with the knowledge of the workings of these cities to scam the system Government.”

“Maybe,” Asmodeus allowed, hoping he could get Kryss to at least consider someone else being responsible, “But it doesn’t feel right to me. There is something familiar about all this.”

“Of course there is something familiar,” Kryss laughed, “This is your home.”

“Besides that. It’s on the edge of my mind, but I just can’t reach it.”

“Meditate on it,” Kryss replied, “The Force is not limited to our restrictions on perception, and this feeling could just as easily be due to something else. Until you can be more certain, I’m going to act on my suspicions.”

“If you insist,” Asmodeus replied reluctantly.

“Trust me. In any case, I feel we’ve done all we can today, so am going to head off to my suite.”

Asmodeus bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. He felt Kryss’ presence leave, but continued to stare out at the eerily lit clouds.

Why can’t I figure out what this feeling is? Asmodeus thought bitterly.

The darkness within Asmodeus swelled, and from within it he received an answer. You could know, quite easily, just as you ‘unlocked’ that chip. You have potential, all you have to do is use all of your strengths.

The idea was seductive. Every time he’d accessed that part of his mind, Asmodeus found clarity. He felt as if he was without restriction, felt as if he could accomplish any task set. His ability with the Force could increase ten-fold.

“But it is not the Jedi way,” he whispered to himself, suppressing the darkness.

However, before the darkness shrank back to its usual place on the edge of his thoughts, it offered Asmodeus a single point to consider.

Perhaps the Jedi way is flawed.

* * *

“I don’t believe this! I honestly don’t believe it,” Administrator Waraela fumed, pacing back and forth in her office, “I summon you here to help resolve the issue of our refineries losses, and instead you have the nerve to come before me and make accusations that either my staff, or worse, that I am part of an elaborate conspiracy.”

“No one is accusing you of anything, Administrator,” Kryss replied calmly.
He sat in a chair in front of the Administrators desk, watching her pace back and forward. “But the lack of any evidence of resistance at the sites your staff told us had been stolen from suggests they had inside help.”

“Those platforms are run by droids,” Waraela snapped, “They know little more than their pre-programmed tasks, they’re not going to take up blaster rifles and defend the platforms!”

“Nor will they deviate from their programming to assist thieves loading their ships,” Asmodeus replied. Standing by the doorway, Asmodeus had tried to remain out of the argument as much as possible. He had a duty to the Jedi to conduct an impartial investigation, and came to support Kryss as he followed his hunch. But at the same time, Asmodeus felt loyal to his home system, and did not want to unnecessarily upset the Administrator.

“Droid brains can be sliced, their programming altered,” Waraela replied, “The thieves would simply need a skilled enough slicer to take control of them.”

“It’s possible,” Kryss allowed, “But it seems like an excessive effort. To hijack the droids brain, then restore its programming afterwards. I still feel it’s more likely one of your staff gave the pirates the override codes.”

“Impossible!”

“It is also odd that the platforms being raided are always the ones that the security patrols aren’t scheduled to check,” Kryss continued, “Having assistance from a staff member would easily explain this.”

Waraela’s stood glaring at Kryss, her bottom lip trembling with anger. Every few seconds it would drop slightly, as if she was going to speak, then rose back to its original place.

“Is that all?” she managed eventually.

“For now,” Kryss said, “We shall continue to investigate the matter.”

“Don’t come to me until you’ve something more conclusive.”

“Until then,” Kryss replied, bowing respectfully before the Administrator.
Kryss rose and, drawing his cloak about himself, strode out of the Administrator’s office.

“Thank you for your time,” Asmodeus said, turning to follow Kryss out.

“Tell me something, Jedi Asmodeus,” the Administrator said, “You don’t agree with your companions assessment, do you?”

“Kryss’ theory has merit, but I don’t think any of your staff would willing give away such information,” Asmodeus replied cautiously, “Perhaps, if the pirates were able to black mail someone, and they’re acting out of self defence. Although, in complete honesty, every option I’ve considered is shrouded by the same uncertainty in the Force.”

“Black mail,” Waraela repeated to herself. She took a moment to consider it, the nodded slowly, “It’s unlikely, but I can look out for any unusual behaviour amongst my staff that would suggest they’re being harassed.”

“I would appreciate it greatly,” Asmodeus responded. He bowed once, then made his way out of the office.

Kryss stood waiting outside, matching Asmodeus’ pace as they headed to the lift at the end of the corridor leading away from the Administrator’s office. The walls had a rough texture, which combined with the off-white paint and faint orange glow pouring in from transperisteel skylights created the illusion of walking through the clouds. With tourism being vital to Bespin’s economy, the entire public area of the city was finished in a similar manner.

“There was certainly a lot of effort put into making this city look good,” Kryss observed as the Jedi waited for the lift. Kryss felt that not talking in a public place was as likely to create suspicion as openly discussing their true business, so tended to engage in idle chatter whenever in public. Asmodeus had never truly believed it, but tended to indulge Kryss anyway.

“Yes, they really do,” Asmodeus said absent-mindedly.

On the wall beside the lift doors, the display began to indicate the lift was ascending. Reaching out with the Force, Asmodeus probed the shaft, his mind coming into contact with a highly unusual mind.

“The Administrator’s staff was entirely human, wasn’t it?” Asmodeus kept his perceptions focussed on the mind he felt. Unlike most sentient minds, the presence continued to shift and transform under a complex layer of thought.

“It is,” Kryss replied, “But the population of Bespin is mainly human, so that isn’t surprising.”

The lift doors opened, and the Administrator’s chief aide stepped out. Kryss stepped immediately into the lift, but Asmodeus remained where he stood, using the Force to continue to probe the aide’s mind.

“That aide isn’t human,” Asmodeus said quietly.

“Looked human to me,” Kryss replied.

“ ‘Your eyes can deceive you, don’t trust them’,” Asmodeus quoted, “Try probing their mind with the Force.”

The lift doors began to close, Kryss quickly sidestepping between them.

“I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“Neither have I,” Asmodeus said, unhooking his lightsaber from his belt, “But as far as I can tell, its intentions are hostile.”

A sudden wave of panic rose through the Force as the pair of Jedi watched the aide slip into the Administrator’s office. Asmodeus sprinted down the corridor, making sure his footsteps remained as silent as possible. Reaching the door, he probed the room with his senses, determining where the aide and the Administrator stood.

“You would never have had to know,” a raspy voice issued from within, “But now it’s too late. The Jedi are getting too close for our comfort, and you summoned them.”

There was a loud gasp, followed by a sob, and then the Administrator’s voice weak with fear. “What have you done with Reylan Hallis?”

“Your aide, Mr. Hallis, remains alive for now. Although, considering the sour turn things have taken, I doubt he’ll remain that way for long.”

The conversation inside the office was drowned out by the sudden whine of starfighter engines. Looking up through the skylights, the Jedi saw a shield trio of orange and black starfighters shoot overhead.

“The pirates from Iego!” Asmodeus exclaimed, suddenly realizing what the feeling that had eluded his comprehension had been. “I have a very bad feeling about this.”

Darth Acrimonus

The pirate fighters soured overhead, but their current flight paths did not suggest they were preparing for strafing runs. Rather, making slow passes through wide arcs, they were surveying the city. Not flying past at full acceleration allowed the pilots to more easily identify hangers or potential weapons platforms, as well as granting the manoeuvrability to change course suddenly if required.

“There’s nothing we can do about the fighters at the moment,” Kryss said softly, crouched outside of the Administrator’s office.

Asmodeus could still sense two distinct beings in the room, and knew that the Administrator remained unharmed. The other, who had looked like the Administrator’s chief aide, had been revealed as an impostor by the Jedi’s eavesdropping. The impostor’s presence in the Force was distinctly different from the species both Jedi were familiar.

“I have no idea how to read the impostor,” Asmodeus said, “That will make it difficult to predict his actions.”

“There are two of us. One should be able to get to the Administrator and protect her while the other distracts the impostor,” Kryss said, offering Asmodeus a slight grin, “Do you feel up to the challenge?”

Asmodeus shook his head in disbelief. Reaching out with the Force, he gained a rough image in his mind as to where the aide was standing.

Easing the door open, Asmodeus stepped into the room, faking shock.
The impostor let out an inhuman hiss of agitation, then brought his repeating blaster pistol to bear.

“Fatal mistake, Jedi!” he snarled, sending a volley of crimson bolts sizzling through the air.

Asmodeus instinctively dodged, his lightsaber humming to life in a brilliant green flash. Asmodeus kept the blade between his body and the blaster bolts, sending them ricocheting around the office. Repeating blasters generally fired at a rate too high for most Jedi to control the angle at which their bolts are deflected, but expended their charge a lot faster.

Asmodeus took care not to direct any bolts at the Administrator, but that was all the control he could hope for. The office walls, ceiling, and floor were pitted with smoking craters as if the room had tried to contain a miniature meteor shower.

Through the Force Kryss sent a wave of reassurance, letting Asmodeus know he’d reached the Administrator.

The impostor’s blaster spluttered, and ceased firing. Cursing viscously the impostor fumbled to pull the spent gas cartridge from his weapon. Those few seconds were all Asmodeus needed. Raising his left-hand palm up he threw the impostor across the room in a violent Force push, the impact with the wall causing him to lose his grip on his blaster. Again, the impostor swore, and his face changed shape. Nose flattening, cheeks sinking, eyes widening and skin tone shifting to grey, the impostor’s features became undeniably alien.

“A Clawdite!” Kryss exclaimed, rising up with the Administrator from behind her desk.

“Release me, Jedi scum!” the Clawdite snarled, fighting to break Asmodeus’ Force grip.

“Where is Reylan Hallis?” the Administrator asked uneasily.

The Clawdite laughed cruelly, it’s face stretching horridly into an expression of unparalleled malice, “Administrator, you’ve assured his death.”

“You will tell us where Reylan Hallis is,” Asmodeus said, using the Force to push his words into the Clawdite’s mind, to make him answer the question.

“He…I wont…he’s…” the Clawdite choked, trying both to answer and taunt Asmodeus.

“You will tell us,” Asmodeus repeated, releasing the darkness within himself to force the Clawdite’s conscious mind into submission.

“Asmodeus, be mindful,” Kryss warned, worried by the show of power.

“I will tell you,” the Clawdite slurred, his eyes glazing over, “He’s in his apartment, always has been, sedated.”

“For how long?” Asmodeus asked, keeping his hold on the Clawdite’s mind constant.

“As long as we’ve been stealing the gas.”

The Clawdite’s eyelids flickered, then dropped over his eyes. Asmodeus released his Force grip on both the Clawdite’s mind and body, leaving him to slump to the floor.

“I must see to Mr. Hallis,” the Administrator said, rushing from her office.

“There could be more pirates with him,” Kryss called after her, “Make sure you take some security personal with you.”

Asmodeus bent down over the Clawdite, and began rummaging through his pockets. He tossed the space blaster gas cartridges aside, as well as a handful of credit chips and what appeared to be the key-pass to Hallis’ apartment. Only one item in particular caught Asmodeus’ attention, a small flimsiplast card with the number 2-87 printed above a small datachip, typically given out to individuals renting hanger space all over the galaxy.

Standing, Asmodeus tucked his lightsaber back onto his belt and headed for the door. Kryss intercepted him, blocking the doorway.

“Asmodeus, we need to talk,” he said solemnly, almost as if he doubted what he was doing.

“Now isn’t the time,” Asmodeus replied, “The pirates are bound to figure out their operative is compromised.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kryss replied, “They are far less threatening that what you just did. I didn’t want to believe what the Council suspected after Iego, but seeing you force that pirates mind into submission leaves me with no doubt.”

“Kryss, we really don’t have the time for a lecture.” Asmodeus pushed his way past his fellow Jedi Knight, and jogged off to the lift.

“Where are you going?” Kryss demanded, sprinting after him.

“Public hanger 87 on level 2,” Asmodeus said simply, holding up the flimsiplast card, “I think the Clawdite pirate’s ship is currently residing there.”

Kryss looked the card over, seeing that it did appear genuine. The two Jedi stepped onto the lift in silence. Asmodeus could sense the conflict within Kryss, his uncertainty and constant second-guessing of his actions to ensure compliance to the Jedi Code. Letting the darkness flood his being Asmodeus was free of such conflict. He knew exactly what he had to do to protect the people of this city, of Bespin as a whole, and any other system the pirates may feel they needed to plunder.

They didn’t speak at all until they reached the hanger, when Kryss again moved to block Asmodeus’ path.

“Don’t do this,” he said desperately, “Don’t let the Dark Side dictate your actions.”

“I dictate my actions,” Asmodeus replied, “The Dark Side simply gives me the support, the strength, to do what is right.”

“The Dark Side is corrupting,” Kryss warned, “It breeds selfishness, arrogance. You cannot justify the use of such power, no matter your intentions; it will always lead you to great evil.”

“Is protecting these people evil? Is saving this city, my family, from these pirates comparable to the tyrannical, human supremacist society proposed by Palpatine? The Dark Side has given me clarity, certainty. I know what I must do.”

“Power corrupts; your feelings cloud your judgement. Don’t needlessly submit yourself to the trails of the dark path, because you won’t come back from it.”

“Won’t come back? That sounds like a threat,” Asmodeus said, anger welling up inside his body, fuelling him in preparation for an inevitable confrontation, “I have made my choice, Kryss. I don’t need your approval, nor do I have any desire to influence you on your own journey. As your friend, I ask for your help to ensure the pirates don’t hurt anyone else.”

“You know I cannot accept your offer,” Kryss said sadly. In his right hand, he held one of his lightsabers, his thumb hovering over the activator. “It is my duty, as a Jedi Knight, to prevent any user of the Dark Side from gaining power enough to threaten the galaxy.”

Kryss’ lightsaber hissed to life, the blue blade humming softly as it cast its surreal glow around the hanger.

“I am truly sorry it came to this,” Asmodeus said, igniting his own saber.
The bright green glow cast new shadows, mixing with those from Kryss’ blade that resulted in the entire hanger being bathed in an odd blue-green glow.

“As am I,” Kryss replied.

* * *

Asmodeus stood in a defensive stance, his feet apart to allow him to quickly move in either direction, and his lightsaber held vertically, close to his body to provide the most protection. The light from the green blade flickered before him, as if the weapon was eager to begin the duel.

The darkness inside Asmodeus swelled to encompass his entire being, born not from anger or hate, but sorrow. He had no desire to fight with Kryss, who he still considered his closest friend, but knew that he had no other choice. Their destinies lay on opposing paths, and only one would be given to opportunity to find out where their path led.

The Dark Side gave Asmodeus strength, opened up a power from the Force he had never thought accessible. He needed this power to do what was right. The Jedi way would result in many deaths, innocent deaths, the weight of which on his conscience Asmodeus could not accept.

Kryss stood in a similar stance, staring at Asmodeus with pity. Asmodeus could sense Kryss suppressing his emotion, finding serenity in the Force, obeying the strict guidelines of the Jedi creed and preparing to ensure Asmodeus would never become a threat to his ideal of justice.

“J’yph, surrender now and come back to the Temple,” Kryss suggested. Void now of his emotions, he was simply giving Asmodeus the same chance to return to the Light any Force-sensitive being would receive. “You’ve not fallen so far that you are beyond help.”

“I don’t see it as falling,” Asmodeus replied, “Simply using the resources I have to do what I know is right. If I lacked any Force-sensitivities you wouldn’t even be concerned at the moment.”

“The power you’ve taken upon yourself is too great for you to control. It will eat away at the very core of your being until you are little more than a mindless drone of the dark, perverse energies of the galaxy.”

Asmodeus didn’t respond. He knew they’d never agree, that they were simply stalling. Reaching out with the Force, he whipped Kryss’ spare lightsaber off his belt before he was even aware of what was happening and tossed it out through the open hanger doors. The silver hilt flashed once, reflecting the cities external lights, before sinking into the clouds.

“Now we start even,” Asmodeus whispered to himself.

Kryss lunged directly forward, raising his lightsaber over his head to strike down forcefully at Asmodeus. Rather than block the attack, locking himself into a defensive action, Asmodeus dove aside. Kryss staggered, overbalancing, seemingly open to attack. Asmodeus swung his saber around, thrusting at Kryss’ back, but the Jedi leapt up and over the attack to land beside Asmodeus.

Both swung their lightsabers in at the other, the energy blades colliding violently. Pushing at each other, the point of contact on each blade began to glow white hot. Sparks sizzled into the air, releasing the putrid, acrid stench of ozone.

Suddenly, Asmodeus dropped onto his left knee, kicking out with his right leg. As his foot slammed into Kryss’ knee, he flicked his lightsaber to send Kryss’ blade angling away from his body. Kryss fell hard, his head hitting the floor with a sickening crack. Asmodeus rose and backed off, readopting his defensive stance.

Kryss lay stunned for a few seconds, trying to lure Asmodeus in to make an overconfident final strike. When none came, he leapt up, using his momentum to dive at Asmodeus. Even as Asmodeus caught and parried the frenzied blow, he managed to notice the small bloody puddle in which two of Kryss’ teeth were floating.

Kryss’ attacks kept coming. He had always been the better swordsman, and now, with Asmodeus a traitor in his mind, he held nothing back. His blade would vanish from the point it was striking as soon as it hit, coming in from seemingly random angles. The attacks changed randomly, thrusts, stabs, swings, and although it lacked the grace present in Makashi masters, they all seemed to flow together into a single, intricate movement.

Asmodeus reached out with the Force, probing his opponent, trying to sense the same darkness behind the assault that filled his own being. The search was in vain, a needless distraction in a desperate situation, as Kryss’ mind remained void of passions.

Asmodeus felt a sharp pain shoot through his wrist. Distracted by his probing, Kryss had taken the opportunity to slam the hilt of his saber into Asmodeus’ arm. His fingers uncoiled in reflex, and his saber hilt clattered onto the floor.

Stepping backward, Asmodeus raised his arms in a gesture of surrender. Kryss moved with him, his lightsaber pointed directly at the centre of Asmodeus’ chest. To his sorrow, Asmodeus felt anger at his friend’s restraint, and a desperate desire to live. The darkness seemed to thrive, as more and more energy flowed into Asmodeus from the Force.

“I can sense the Dark Side still growing within you,” Kryss said, “I have no choice but assume your surrender is a lie.”

“I am sorry,” Asmodeus said.

Letting go off all the energy within himself, Asmodeus felt the wave of dark power surge from himself. There was no control behind the action. It was like suddenly removing the wall of a dam, with a sudden unstoppable force the energy charged outward to fill its new environment.

Kryss went flying backward under the wave of Dark Side energy, slamming into the far wall, before slumping forward to land face first onto the floor. He rose shakily, searching his surroundings for his lightsaber.

Asmodeus crossed the room to stand before Kryss, holding up the Jedi’s lightsaber hilt in his left hand. In his right, Asmodeus held his own lightsaber, the green blade ignited but pointing toward the floor.

“We both knew only one of us would walk away from this,” Asmodeus said sadly, “I still consider you my closest friend, and will remember you fondly, but the only way we’d both be walking away from this is for me to return to the Jedi Temple in your custody. It would be selfish of me to preserve one individual’s life because of that friendship, and end up sacrificing hundreds.”

Asmodeus raised his blade, and thrust it forward through Kryss’ heart. The strike was fast and true, killing Kryss in a painless instant. Asmodeus caught the body as it fell, wrapping his arms around Kryss’ chest and dragging him onboard the Clawdite pirate’s ship.

“When this is all over, I promise I will honour your memory with a proper Jedi funeral.”

Propping Kryss up in one of the seats in the passenger compartment, Asmodeus made his way into the ship’s cockpit. It was of Corellian design, having a standardized control layout. Running quickly through the pre-flight checks, Asmodeus guided the ship out of the hanger and up through the atmosphere. He was ignored by the fighters, a good sign that the pirates were unaware of their Clawdite member’s fate. Calling up the last set of coordinates the ship had left from, and plotted a course, reading himself to do whatever necessary to ensure they never troubled another system.

* * *

Asmodeus brought his ‘borrowed’ ship through Bespin’s atmosphere when a pair of starfighters took up escort positions.

“We’re slavin’ your controls to ours,” one of the fighter pilots said over the comm, “Sit back and enjoy the ride.”

Asmodeus made no response, but sensed no alarm in either pilot’s mind. Slipping out of his chair, Asmodeus made his way into the ships cramped rear compartment. Little more than a walk in closet, it held a little food and a portable cooker, a wide variety of clothes in different sizes, and a few blasters of various sizes.

Searching through the clothes, Asmodeus selected a set of dirty technician’s coveralls and quickly changed. He tucked his lightsaber, as well as the saber he’d taken from Kryss, into one of the numerous tool pockets in the coveralls. As an afterthought, he stowed one of the blasters into another pocket, leaving the grip exposed out the top.

Returning to the cockpit, Asmodeus was shocked to see that he was rapidly approaching the Dreadnaught that had escaped at Iego. How a vessel of its size had made it into the system undetected was beyond him, but it was clear that it had taken an orbit around the Bespin systems outer most planet. Once in orbit, the Dreadnaught needed to do little more than remain the planet’s mass shadow and it would remain hidden.

“The port-side bay is open and waiting for you,” one escort pilot informed Asmodeus, “Returnin’ your controls now.”

The pair of fighters pulled away, leaving Asmodeus to guide his ship into the waiting hanger bay. It was practically empty, most of the Dreadnaughts fighters either patrolling the system or the cities and outposts.

Asmodeus’ mind began to race, trying to come up with a plan that would allow him to ensure the pirates were no longer a threat while also allowing himself to make it off the Dreadnaught alive. Even for a squad of Jedi taking on an entire starships crew was no easy task unless they had a decent plan.

The boarding ramp hissed open, revealing a lone pirate mechanic standing at its base. Asmodeus had only seen one sentient being in the entirety of the hanger as he’d entered, but that didn’t mean others hadn’t been overlooked.

“We didn’t expect you back so soon,” the mechanic called up the ramp.

Asmodeus knew it would be more suspicious for him to try and remain onboard, hiding from the mechanic, so quickly descended into the hanger trying to look as confident as possible.

“Things didn’t go as planned,” Asmodeus said, trying to imitate the Clawdite’s accent, while also hoping that their species voice changed in the same manner as its physical appearance.

The mechanic automatically whipped a blaster out of his pocket, thumbing the safety off as he did, and pointed it at Asmodeus’ face.

“Will you point that somewhere else,” Asmodeus snapped, making himself appear confident that the mechanic wouldn’t shoot him, but at the same time making sure his hands remained at a noticeable distance from the blaster in his own pocket. Calling on the Force, he focused his thoughts on reading the mechanics emotions, searching for signs to indicate what behaviour would be considered normal.

“What’s with the new face?” the mechanic asked. Asmodeus could still sense his suspicion, but otherwise the mechanic was calmer, waiting for an explanation.

“I said things didn’t go as planned,” Asmodeus hissed, “You don’t honestly think they’d just let me fly away looking like Hallis, do you? There’d be cameras all around the Administrator’s office; security would’ve picked me up the minute I stepped off the lift to the hanger.”

“They had you go after the Administrator?” the mechanic asked in awe. He flicked the safety on his blaster back on, and returned it to his pocket, before adding mockingly, “That still doesn’t explain why you chose to mimic such an ugly face.”

The mechanics entire body shook as he laughed at his own joke. Asmodeus made an effort to laugh along with him. Eventually, the mechanic calmed down, then wandered off to tend to his duties, leaving Asmodeus to ponder what possibilities were available to him.

Gazing around the hanger, Asmodeus began to estimate its size. The height of the roof alone suggested it was at least three decks high, accommodating a number of fighter launching racks. A number of walkways and platforms were present at regular intervals, allowing for maintenance and refuelling of the fighters without having to remove them from their racks.

Fuel, Asmodeus thought, his eyes following the lines back to where they met in one corner of the hanger, Most ships seal off areas that are on fire to prevent it spreading to the rest of the ship.

Asmodeus quickly searched the hanger for a repulsor trolley. Finding one of an appropriate size, he guided it back to his borrowed ship, easing it up the ramp. Once onboard, Asmodeus drew the Force into himself, emptying the rear compartment. All of the clothes and few remaining blasters he piled into the trolley, calling only the portable cooker to himself.

Moving into the cockpit, he sat down and worked at prying the top plate off the cooker. Underneath were a number of looped filaments, designed simply to heat up when a current was passed through them.

“Brilliant,” Asmodeus muttered to himself. He hit the activator and watched the filaments begin to glow red-hot, before his gaze was drawn to his dead friend still propped up in a seat near by.

“I did promise you a proper Jedi funeral,” Asmodeus whispered, “But I think this is the closest you’ll get.” Switching the cooker off, Asmodeus placed in on the console to cool, then set about moving Kryss’ body onto the trolley. Burying Kryss beneath the clothes, Asmodeus grabbed the cooker and guided the trolley back into the hanger and toward to fuel lines met.

Asmodeus’ senses told him that the mechanic had moved on to repairing an old Y-Wing. Even without the Force, the curses that echoed through the open space were enough to know the mechanics attention was elsewhere. When the trolley hovered where Asmodeus wanted, he removed the gas cartridges and power packs from the blasters and lined them up on the side of the trolley facing the fuel lines. On the opposite, Asmodeus tucked the cooker, draping another set of coveralls sleeve across the filaments.

“Hopefully the filth is flammable,” Asmodeus muttered as he activated the cooker. Small flames began to flicker to life around the smears. Even with the pile of clothes as fuel, the fire would still take a few minutes to gain enough heat to cause the blaster gas cartridges to explode, long enough for Asmodeus to find a lift and head to the upper decks.

On most capital ships, automated protocols existed to deal with a number of catastrophes. Asmodeus was counting on the Dreadnaught’s automated systems to seal off all the decks the hanger spanned. Being located slightly above the vessels horizontal midline, this would also trap everyone who happened to be lower than the hanger to the Dreadnaught’s ventral decks, effectively locking down two thirds of the ship.

“There is no death, there is only the Force,” Asmodeus said to the pile of clothes he knew Kryss’ body was buried beneath, “Hopefully you and it are now one.”

With those final words, Asmodeus jogged out of the hanger, entering the first lift he found and hitting the button for the upper most deck.

If this works, two-thirds of the ship will be taken care of, but there still will be enough to make all of your efforts in vain if you’re not careful. Asmodeus’ thoughts began to spiral pessimistically toward death, until an answer presented itself from the darkness that now filled almost all of Asmodeus’ being. Severe the head, and the body will die simply through a lack of orders.

The lift came to a stop. Asmodeus stretched his mind outward, ensuring the corridor he entered was empty, then stepped out. He moved almost silently, probing each adjacent room until he sensed a vacant one, and slipped inside. Moving to the nearest computer terminal, Asmodeus knew he had little time before the blaster gas cartridges exploded, and brought up a schematic of the ship. Making a quick mental note of key locations, Asmodeus felt the sudden shudder beneath him. The terminal flickered and went black. For a second, all was silent, peaceful, until the emergency sirens began to blare and the terminal linked back to life.

Explosion in fuel lines in main port-side hanger. All decks locked down until further notice. Follow standard emergency procedure.

“It worked,” Asmodeus said proudly, “Now all I’ve to do is find the Captain. After that, neither he nor his crew will trouble anyone again.”