A Living Nightmare

  Chapter 28: A Conflict of Interests

  "We have to move forward. And when the time comes, we have to be ready to sacrifice for something bigger."

  4 BBY

  Location: Ossus

  We stayed in Ahsoka's ship. The rains were relentless, drowning out the hum of the ship with the ceaseless patter and dull percussion of water drumming against the hull. For three days, the skies were filled with an orbital bombardment of moistening particles. After the informal duel we had conducted—one that I had obviously won—the rains became too heavy to continue with any instruction outdoors. Yet with the drumbeats of the rain, it was a struggle not to fall asleep these past three days. An even greater struggle was learning to meditate properly, as a Jedi would. I had attempted previously, in a familiar space, but with the metallic tempo and subtle differences in the ship's shifting and vibrations, it made it all the more difficult to focus.

  I inhaled through my nose, slowly, with purpose. We were to do it again, just like last time.

  "There is no emotion, there is peace," I breathed with an exhale. I knew the Jedi Code before I ever awoke in this galaxy, and probably from before I even hit puberty. I found it funny, having all this knowledge and not putting it to use. Though with this little exercise, these attempts illuminated why knowledge and application were two very different breeds of animals. I could get the rhythm right, the breathing right. I could say the words, repeat the mantra over and over till I had no air in my lungs to speak.

  Peace would not come easily, not with knowing that today I would be leaving. In fact, there was no peace to be had anywhere. The world outside was in flux, rain and wind ripping through the ancient forests and shattered ruins that dotted the landscape. The once gentle river nearby had risen several inches and threatened to flood the surrounding area. Wildlife hid among the branches and overturned logs, finding refuge from the raging storms. On a purportedly peaceful world, even in nature, there was no peace that lasted long.

  "There is no ignorance, there is knowledge." It was Ahsoka who spoke, drawing my mind and senses from the outside world and back to the present. A subtle reminder to focus, to connect with the Force, to pour into it with a mind of peace, serenity, and to find harmony within myself.

  "There is no passion, there is serenity." Another inhale, and exhale. My shoulders rose and fell, the breathing technique becoming second nature. It felt as if a lifetime had passed since my first steps under Coruscant, learning from that broken holocron. Now, it was the same all over again. I had to unlearn what I had learned, as Yoda once told Luke. The thought brought out a small laugh, interrupting my breathing and garnering a look from Ahsoka, who opened her eyes.

  "Is there something you find funny about the Code?" she asked pointedly. Her voice was stern, warm, and curious all melted together.

  I shook my head, keeping my eyes closed to try again but still giving her a response. "Unlearn, what you have learned," I told her, with my best imitation of Yoda. "When I got here, I learned how to meditate in a different way."

  "So you've told me." Over the past few days I divulged my activities further, giving her some insight into what had happened with me the past several years. Some details I elaborated, some I kept to myself, thinking it better that way.

  I inhaled. "It was from a Sith holocron, underneath the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. There were hidden, old ruins underneath. I don't know if it was real or a sensory vision from the Dark Side in that place," I told her, exhaling. "There is no emotion, there is peace."

  Another few moments of silence passed, as the only sounds were the pattering against the hull and a bleep from an instrument or two from the cockpit.

  "I... there was a Sith holocron. It taught me what it could. I was to survive, feeding off the Force and the Dark Side." I swallowed, remembering the cold, my attempts at communing with the Force, only to be instructed to delve deeper, to touch the emotions I had denied myself for so long. The suffocating darkness—those few days lingered with me every step I took from then on, and it would not leave me. It would not let me find peace. Sure, it may sound overdramatic but the truth was right there with me.

  "It feels like my connection to the Force is warped, Ahsoka. I can't find peace, I can't focus. It's as if there's a thousand flies buzzing around my head when I start to get into the groove of it, ya' know?"

  "You're conflicted," she said, not telling me anything new. We had been over this a few times already. I could feel her patience wearing thin—not that I blamed her. Nor did I expect her to have much, given who trained her. "You should make peace with yourself, learn to let go. Let's begin again. I will start, you will finish."

  I nodded and waited.

  "There is no emotion, there is peace," she started, and I followed after a small set of inhalations of sterilized ship air.

  "There is no ignorance, there is knowledge." I spoke those words aloud, centering my Force Sight within myself, cutting out everything that I could. The rain dulled and dimmed in my ears, my breathing growing louder.

  "There is no passion, there is serenity." I could barely hear her words, falling deep into a trance of my own. She sounded far away now.

  "There is no chaos, there is harmony." I felt something this time as the words sprang from my tongue, a slight warmth from elsewhere. It called and pulled me in, and I followed, coloring it with my own will and speaking. Ahsoka's words did not reach me. The world faded into a deep void.

  "There is death, yet there is the Force." The words were my own, changed and shaped by the truth of what I had seen. What I felt, what I had known to be a truth in this universe, before it became real.

  "I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me." Again, that twinge of a feeling, something brushing against my own senses, trying to connect.

  "Through the Force, my chains are broken and I am free." I reached out and claimed the outstretched hand, that warmth that called to me, that wanted me to seek it. And once I did, the world returned. The hum of the rains, and the heavy breaths I puttered out. I could sense the older woman nearby, still sitting and waiting.

  I could feel her eyes on me, but I ignored her. The Force felt different that time—smoother, clearer. It was as if I were drinking from tainted water, only to finally decide to add a filter to it. It was different from when I had touched the warmth that clustered in my own self—that was far stronger than what I had let flow around me. There were different aspects of the Force at play, I realized and remembered. But which one it was that I drew upon, I wasn't so sure. All I knew was that a touch of darkness made the light palatable. A line of neutrality, a dash of the Sith Code. And I felt the Force—it was a warmth that contrasted the bone-chilling cold that tortured me.

  I allowed myself a satisfied smile. Persistence and a little improvisation were the keys to my success, just a little unorthodox. Though nothing so far had been orthodox or as expected.

  "That was the Sith Code," Ahsoka said finally, as I stood up. I could feel her emotions a little better now—their color and pulse more vibrant. She was surprised, if barely. The connection still persisted, if dimmed due to not completely turning my focus fully on meditation. I had a sliver of a link to the Light Side of the Force, something I hoped to strengthen over time. One I hoped would give me some balance, to not be wrapped up in such negativity and pain. A way of self-medicating and dealing with the life I would linger in, until the right time.

  "Just a portion, one part that I always agreed with. The Sith Code, just like the Jedi Code, can be interpreted in different ways. It doesn't always have to be from a selfish point of view. Besides, the Force isn't just for the two sides. It's something anyone can feel, if the connection is there. For a slave, it can be boundless freedom—to change their fate. Or for the pirate, an easy way to get themselves killed." The words poured freely, no hesitation to state my mind. She wasn't a sage like Yoda, or a historian like Jocasta Nu. I could sense that she was willing to listen, at the very least. But to change her ways, to challenge her beliefs that she had held since childhood, that wasn't something for me to do. It wasn't something that I wanted to do, I needed Ahsoka to be steadfast and brave like she had been these past years while the Empire burned the galaxy in plain sight.

  I walked a little closer to her and gave a formal bow.

  "Thank you, Knight Tano, for the instruction. I hope to put it to good use in the near future." I put genuine feeling behind those words.

  It had been an enlightening few days. Chief among them was how lacking my lightsaber training had been, and secondly were the different training techniques she taught me on using the Force. It not only helped my Force Sight, but my other areas of expertise. How the study of biology could assist with Mind Tricks, or how a vivid imagination shaped a user's ability for Force Manipulation—or Telekinesis, as some in the wider galaxy called it. Her small lessons and crash courses bettered me more than the years of training I could have continued within the Fortress. The 'training' within those solemn walls was more about self-study and self-betterment, with only the occasional duel with fellow Inquisitors, rather than actual instruction. Outside of the first few months I had, there was little formal teaching. Even then, I learned I was a special case—likely due to my gaps in basic knowledge.

  "You are most welcome, Inquisitor." she replied back, standing and reciprocating the bow I performed. "Maybe you can stay for longer next time."

  A bitter laugh crawled out of my throat. "Attachments are forbidden for Jedi. Well, ex-Jedi are a different case."

  I approached the boarding ramp, pulling a spare cloak over my armor. The faint echoes of Skywalker lingered on the fabric, his presence unmistakable in the Force. The storm outside and the jedi were near indistinguishable when put side by side. A flick of a switch and the ramp began to slowly descend with a hiss. Even with a small gap to push itself through, The roaring gales hammered into me, nearly sweeping me off my feet. Rain began to pool into the ship. I was already having regrets of wanting leave after properly meditating, if what I did just a minute ago even counted. But I was in a hurry, I didn't want the Grand Inquisitor getting suspicious.

  Before I could move forward, a sharp series of mechanical whirs echoed from the side corridor. HK rolled into the main hold, wedging his rusting astromech frame through the narrow passage with all the grace the rolling box on wheels that he was. His copper-toned plating was streaked with grime, splotched with old blast marks that hadn’t been buffed out in years. A relic patched together out of necessity, not care.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "Query: "Flooding the ship, Master? A bold strategy. Shall I prepare the distress signal now, or wait until we’re ankle-deep?"

  "Nice to see you too, HK," I muttered, tugging the cloak tighter as the storm tried to peel it off me. I just hoped he was still charging up, and save me the trouble of saying goodbye.

  His photoreceptors pulsed in a slow, deliberate blink. "Observation: Your probability of returning intact decreases with every venture into adverse conditions. Suggestion: Reevaluate your priorities."

  Ahsoka stood by the bulkhead, arms crossed, watching with that patient look she’d perfected. "I see he’s as charming as ever."

  "Clarification: Charm is irrelevant. Results are measurable." HK's dome swiveled toward her. "Perhaps you have reconsidered your ineffective pacifist doctrines during my absence."

  Ahsoka's sigh said everything. "That's my que to leave," I said, glancing between them.

  I shifted the cloak across my shoulder, boots splashing in the shallow puddle now creeping further into the ship. "Fix him up good for me, will ya? I need him as 'optimal' as you can get him."

  Ahsoka’s eyes softened, just for a moment. "I’ll see what I can do with getting him a new chasis. Though I doubt I’ll change his outlook."

  "Statement: Modification of my core personality matrix would be... unwise."

  That was as much closure as we were going to get.

  I gave her a small nod and turned toward the open ramp. The wind slammed into me like a solid wall, forcing me to lean into it. The rain welcomed me with cold, biting fingers, soaking through the cloak in seconds.

  "Be careful, Alonzo," she said, voice nearly lost in the gale.

  I heard it. Felt it. But I didn’t turn back.

  "Always."

  The ramp sealed behind me with a hiss, but it did little to keep the storm out. The moment I stepped onto the soil of Ossus, it was as if the world wanted to peel me apart. The wind pushed at me from every direction, tugging at the edges of my cloak, slipping cold fingers down my collar. Rain came at me sideways, slapping against armor that was already heavy enough without the added weight of water.

  Each step forward was an effort. The ground was soft, soaked through, and every movement made the earth cling to my boots. The kind of mud that didn’t want to let go.

  I could sense my path well enough, the ship’s landing struts like pillars of certainty somewhere ahead. My Force sight painted their outline clearly enough. But the ground was another matter entirely. It didn’t care how attuned I was. It only cared how well it could trap my foot and make the next step harder than the last.

  Still, I wasn’t alone.

  There was something else. Something moving low to the ground, pacing me from the treeline. Its presence scratched against the edge of my senses. Feral. Focused. Every thought in its mind was sharp and simple—hunt, feed, survive.

  I didn’t stop.

  There was no need to rush to the saber. The Force told me it was there. Told me where it would strike, even if it hadn’t committed yet. Let it believe it was stalking me unnoticed.

  It was close enough now that I could feel the tautness of its muscles, the ripple of wet fur as it shifted. Claws flexed against the sodden earth. Its patience was thinning.

  I drew in a breath, finding the rhythm Ahsoka had drilled into me these past few days. There was no fear. Just focus.

  The brush ahead of me shivered.

  With a quiet movement, I thumbed the ignition of my saber. The crimson blade sprang to life, its warmth dulled by the storm but steady in my hand.

  The creature lunged.

  It was fast. Faster than I expected for something so weighed down by the weather. Catlike in form, though calling it that was a kindness. Its face was a mess of tendrils, slithering through the air like worms, each tipped with a gleam of poison.

  It came low, aiming for my legs, while those tendrils snaked toward my throat.

  I stepped aside, keeping my movement controlled, not wasting the motion. My saber cut a clean line through the tendrils as they reached for me. The hiss of burning flesh was drowned beneath the storm, but I felt the creature’s pain ripple through the Force.

  It snarled, claw lashing out in frustration, but I batted it aside with a flick of my blade. I didn’t pursue. Instead, I reached out, letting my will press against its mind.

  It was simple. Raw instinct. Pain, hunger, the need to survive. There was nothing noble in it, no malice. Just need.

  I wasn’t what it needed. I doubted I tasted very good. I wasn't the meal it was looking for.

  The creature hesitated, body coiled, breath heaving. Then, with a final hiss, it turned, slinking back into the brush. The rain swallowed its retreat, as if it had never been there.

  I let the saber die, the blade slipping back into the hilt. Its absence didn’t change much. The storm pressed in as it had before, uncaring.

  Adjusting my grip on the hilt, I kept moving.

  The mud was worse now, pulling at my boots with every step. Blind or not, it made no difference. The Force could tell me where the earth turned soft, but it couldn’t lift my foot for me. Every few paces, I had to wrench my leg free, the suction loud and wet.

  “You’d think after all this time, walking wouldn’t still be a lesson in patience,” I muttered, the words lost to the wind.

  But the ship was ahead, somewhere just beyond the next patch of treacherous ground. I could feel it, the low energies that swept through the solid shape, and the spot that was Hal, relaxing like he was on a vacation.

  I envied him, as Ossus did it's best to keep my movements to a crawl.

  And so I kept moving through the mud, cursing under my breath the whole way.

  Location: Lothal

  Still no fanfare to my arrival, I thought bitterly, taking measured steps down the ramp of the Scythe. HK would be filled with disappointment yet again, and I understood where he came from. I should kill something to cheer myself up, and I nearly said it aloud to Hal.

  I resisted the urge to laugh. Hal walked behind me as I tugged at a fold of fabric on my recently washed armor. The cloak, I’d decided, was worth keeping as part of the wardrobe. A little bit of flair never hurt. Nor did the strange, persistent aura that clung to the thing like a shadow. It reminded me of enchanted gear from one of those old fantasy games—a unique item, with a unique property I hadn’t quite figured out. All I could feel was a steady sense of power and a sliver of peace that came with it whenever I brushed against it through the Force.

  Only one person waited to greet us, someone I hadn't yet had the pleasure of meeting.

  "Agent Kallus," I said, stepping forward and extending a hand toward him. The gesture caught the man off guard, exactly as intended. A friendly smile, my helmet tucked neatly beneath one arm, and a handshake offered as though I were some businessman rather than an Inquisitor clad in dark armor. Hal stood quietly behind me, ever watchful.

  "A pleasure to finally meet you," I added, keeping the warmth in my voice measured.

  The agent—a man with a flat-top haircut and pronounced mutton chops—hesitated only briefly before gripping my hand firmly.

  "Inquisitor," he said. His voice was gruff, crisp, and carried the polished accent of an Imperial officer. "Your superior speaks highly of you. I hope you can help us deal decisively with these Rebels."

  I nodded, releasing his hand and gesturing lightly for him to walk with me. "I sense skepticism in you, Alexsandr. Don’t worry—you may speak freely."

  His skepticism was justified, given what was soon to transpire here. In truth, I doubted my presence would significantly alter the outcome—not until things escalated enough to drag Governor Tarkin himself into the ring. I was mostly here to ensure nothing got out of hand, or changed too drastically.

  "I apologize if I've offended you, my lord," Kallus began cautiously, before explaining his reservations as we walked the halls of Lothal's capitol building. Having already exhausted all his resources, he doubted that adding another lightsaber to the situation would solve their problems.

  I let a small smile form as we walked. "Good thing I'm not just a pretty face, Agent Kallus. I was called here for a reason. I intend to ensure your resources, effort, and time aren't wasted on me."

  My meaning was clear enough: incompetence only dragged everyone else down. We stepped into Minister Tua’s office, and I immediately fought the urge to roll my eyes and push the woman straight out her own window. The thin woman rose from her seat eagerly, introducing herself and thanking me profusely for arriving on such short notice. I couldn’t have cared less for her blathering about how delighted she was to have further assistance from the Inquisitors.

  I tuned her out entirely, instead reaching out through the Force, letting it slip quietly around the others in the office.

  The Grand Inquisitor stood silently at Tua’s left, his presence unmistakable. Hal moved to my side after the door closed, standing quietly alongside Kallus. But there was someone else here—someone I did not recognize. His thoughts were slippery, devious, and barely concealed a simmering contempt.

  "Senator Trayvis here has been quite enthusiastic in his assistance," the Minister explained, probably going into detail about some overly elaborate plan. "With his direct involvement, we believe we can finally capture these insurgents and bring them to justice."

  I remembered this part. The senator would attempt to capture the Ghost Crew, and inevitably fail. If memory served correctly, the Inquisitors weren't involved—it was just an episode meant to push the plot along, give Ezra's parents some characterization, and set up the idea of hijacking an Imperial comm tower. Still, my suspicion grew, and I asked the question that came naturally.

  I gave the Imperial lackey a nod of acknowledgement. "He's bait, and then we swoop in and grab them all? Should be easy." I shrugged dismissively.

  Kallus unfolded his arms, correcting me. "It won't be. This is an ISB mission strictly—no Inquisitor involvement. We don't want the Jedi to catch wind of any deception, given their abilities."

  "Makes sense," I said, turning toward the Grand Inquisitor. "So why am I here, then?" Frustration seeped through my words, filling the chamber with a tense silence. The alien gave a slow, irritated sigh at the display.

  "I will be off-site, awaiting prisoner transfer in the event of a successful capture," came the unmistakable voice of Jason Isaacs through the sharpened teeth of the Empire’s Grandiest Inquisitor. "You are here to gather information with your unique abilities. Investigate their previous sites of terrorism—visit Tarkintown as well, as they've provided aid to the refugees in the past. I expect results."

  I blinked, momentarily stunned. "I was dragged away from an important mission to do someone else's job?" My voice raised sharply, and I sensed Minister Tua already shrinking back into herself like the cowardly mouse she was. I pointed a finger directly at Kallus. "To do his job? Or yours?"

  That riled up the pompous Pau'an. "It was the Emperor who made the request himself," he hissed, leaning over the minister’s desk and glaring daggers at me. "I suggest you start your work, Fourteenth Brother."

  There is no emotion, there is peace. The words radiated in my head, as I felt the temptation to draw my blade and cut him down. I inhaled slowly, and exhaled. "Fine," I said flatly, turning on my heel toward the door. "Send the details to the ship. We'll be on our way."

  I gestured to Hal, and he fell into step as we left the office behind. I waited till we were far enough away before saying a word.

  "This is bullshit," I muttered under my breath, passing a squad of stormtroopers marching stiffly down the corridor.

  "Yes, sir," Hal commented dryly, his displeasure with the situation as measurable as mine. He'd enjoyed a nice three-day vacation and a full day away from HK-47 before we'd left Ossus. And now here we were again, back to the basics: chasing down useless scraps of intelligence when we could have been assisting in meaningful operations. We could have been making a difference.

  Still, there was a bright side. This assignment allowed me to keep an eye on the Lothal cell with minimal direct interference, and I had prior knowledge to lean on. My memory wasn't perfect, but I remembered enough to recognize we were nearing the end of Rebels' first season. Yet now, with my being here, on-planet, it made me wonder how much could actually change. I'd have to tread carefully—my mind immediately drifting toward the Jedi Temple on this world, and the gateway that waited within. The excavation of the Lothal Temple wouldn't take place for a few years from now, but things had already changed a bit in the smaller scale. It made me worried. Plans of escape be damned, the Emperor couldn't be allowed access to what lay hidden there if they tried to get it sooner. I was pulled from my thoughts as the hanger doors opened up, and the two of us continued the walk to our ship.

  "On the plus side," I said finally, a grin tugging at my lips as I slapped Hal lightly on the shoulder, "at least we’ll have some decent food and good intel to work with."

  We had our work cut out for us, but I was excited. Irritated, sure—but genuinely excited. At least now I could finally put my recent training to proper use. The second line of the code came to mind as Hal took a seat, roughly tossing his helmet against the bulkhead.

  There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. And I would be getting a lot of that.