Dathomir: A Place of Storms.

[Wei Wu Wei]

On the run. Again. Wei Wu Wei found himself once again attempting to escape the clutches of the Imperial Inquisitoriate.

"Leave me alone!" He hissed while he watched the rear video feed.

We are entering low orbit around the planet Dathomir.

R4 must have finally gotten used to being chased around. The astromech seemed to be as cool as Hoth ice. Wei wondered if the droid was just showing fortitude or if something had finally gone wrong in all its programming and would be in need of a mind wipe.

"That's nice," Wei said. He looked over his shoulder at the large Imperial cruiser. Fear and worry etched his face. The alcoholic could feel his hands shake, his heart race, and his forehead bead with sweat. "I really just want to get away from these stinking Imps!"

R4 tooted. Scanning the planet for a safe window for atmospheric entry. Nearly the entire planet's surface is covered in storm clouds.

Suddenly a great arc of lightning lanced up fromt he clouds and into space itself.

"That's no ordinary storm." The Force Cripple's eyes widened in recognition of the planet. "This is a Force Storm! Whatever's going on down on the planet's surface, I can bet you one thing: the Dathomiri Force Witches are behind this!"

Force Witches?

"Women with strong power in the Dark Side. Run a matriarchal society that subjugates men as slaves. The strongest ones are called Night Sisters or something. The Jedi Order lost the training ship Chu'unthor in a Force Storm like this. Crashed into a tar pit."

What do we do?

Before Wei could answer, a spike of lightning jolted the little starfighter. Smoke filled the cockpit. No lights flashed. R4 made no noise. The ship was dead, and plummeting towards the planet at an alarming rate.

Wei didn't have time to even put on an oxygen mask as the G-forces pressed him into the pilot's chair and knocked him out.

[Palara Iscandar]

Prologue

Three Standard Weeks Earlier*

Imperial Centre, Citadel of the Inquisitorius

Pain. Her entire being was pain, and there wasn't enough light to wash it away. It had been drained from her.

"You cannot fathom the depths of my disappointment, Inquisitor Iscandar."

Inquisitor Atrapes straightened out the creaseless sleeves of his uniform with a sigh, his hands, clad in black nerfhide gloves once more, almost convincing her that what had just occurred was a dream. He'd begun wearing the gloves since travelling to see the progress of another of his proteges on another planet. Iscandar couldn't remember her name now, her thoughts scattered to the winds. The twilek Inquisitor had been somewhat surprised at what had seemed a show of affectation on her mentor's part, but she knew now that it was not affectation at all that had caused him to add the gloves.

"Do you think I am embarrassed?" he asked, looking up at her after making sure the gloves were secure. "One of my personally trained students lied and allowed a mortal enemy of the Empire to escape and moreover could be said to have facilitated his escaped and abetted in the damages he has wrought since. After what I had done for you. How weak."

Iscandar gasped, feeling cool air rush into the room. She could see her lightsaber, the wooden one gifted her by the Tree in the Library, in his hand. He studied it intently, but he looked at her. She kept his gaze, and did not look at the hilt.

He smiled wryly.

"Perhaps it is my fault. Perhaps I did not train you enough, or felt you ready before your time."

"No," she gasped. "You are not at fault. It is mine."

"Oh? As your teacher, the one who vouched for you before the Grand Inquisitor, who trained you and allowed you to study the Light over anything else, I feel some responsibility for these events." Atrapes tossed her the hilt. She caught it, surprised; she had expected it to be taken from her.

"It is obvious that your continued failures point to a consistent weakness. You have not turned against the Empire; we would know of that if it happened. Frustration, perhaps?"

Atrapes hooked his own lightsaber to his belt and waited for Iscandar to gain the strength to stand. She felt a tumult of emotions inside, but mostly she felt the disappointment radiating from Atrapes. It compounded with her own guilt at her actions that day on Ossus, marching into the corvette with nothing but a list of planets and their coordinates.

"You are discontented. I never promised you peace, Inquisitor Iscandar. Peace is not a lie, as the Sith claim. Neither is it a truth or static state of being as the Jedi teach. It is as mutable as anything else you will feel, Iscandar." Atrapes walked around her as she staggered to her feet. "I will send you once more to apprehend this Jedi. But obviously as it stands you are unable to defeat him."

Iscandar's eyes widened. Atrapes noted this.

"We never gain strength or reach our potential by shying away from what has defeated us. One faces their fears, conquers their desires, and disciplines the weaknesses of the body. It is the same with external foes as with these inner demons."

Atrapes walked back into full view, having completed one circuit around her. The training room lightened from its former dimness, and Atrapes tossed a coiled object at her. She caught it, and saw it was a vibrowhip.

"We will begin training you to use this weapon, and you will build one that operates much as a lightsaber."

His lightsaber activated, humming as he stepped forward towards her.

"Begin."

Present Day

Vigil-class Corvette Arbiter

Dathomir Orbital Space

"Scans are showing unusual meteorological events in the planet's atmosphere."

The captain of the Arbiter, a career officer serving his fifteenth year, looked at the datapad presented by his second in command. He frowned.

"Atmospheric storms should pose no obstacle to our pursuit," he said. The lieutenant commander nodded.

"Normally not. But there are some anomalies that the algorithms have brought to our attention."

"Is this worthy of bringing to our commander's attention?" the Captain asked, looking at the Inquisitor standing at the bridge viewport. Unlike the few others he'd been privy to work with, this Inquisitor wore a long hooded cloak, which shrouded any and all distinguishing features. All they could truly see was a pair of black gloves on his or her hands.

"I believe that it is, sir," the second responded. The Captain sighed. The Arbiter was ostensibly a customs and patrol ship, hunting down smugglers and small groups of Rebels. It was specially set aside as a ship to be available for the use of Inquisitors who had need of a corvette or frigate.

"Very well," he said, bringing the datapad to the pacing Imperial Agent. After a few moments of speaking, the Captain returned.

"Helm, continue on course to intercept. Draw power from weaponry to engines, and begin the startup sequences for the tractor beams."

"Sir! We're getting a spike in readings from the storms in the atmosphere!"

"What-"

The ship jolted, lights dimming and the inertial dampeners completely going offline for a few moments before the ship corrected for the surge.

"What was that?" the Captain asked.

"A large bolt of plasma from the storms in the atmosphere. It acted much like the discharge from an ion cannon."

"The fugitive ship has been hit as well. Scanners read it falling into the atmosphere. Signal lost."

The Inquisitor marched down the walkway of the bridge and spoke to the Captain quietly.

"Very well. We shall wait here for you, as you wish."

The Inquisitor walked to the turbolift and entered it. The doors closed behind the dangerous Imperial agent and the second in command looked at his superior officer in askance.

"Pull into outer orbit. Have a shuttle and a landing party prepared. The Inquisitor will land and retrieve the prisoner."

"Sir."

In a matter of minutes, the Lambda-shuttle approached the old fighter's trajectory and was also struck by a huge bolt of lightning.

"The shuttle is going down, sir."

"We have no other shuttles. Attempt to reach the Inquisitor. Once repairs are made to the systems, begin a complete scan of the planet." The Captain grimaced. "I will not return to civilized space to report that we lost a shuttle, stormtroopers, and an Inquisitor to an atmospheric condition. I would not long survive such a report."

The bridge crew went to work, while the Captain and the Executive Officer watched the roiling clouds in the planet's atmosphere writhe fitfully.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei saw the smoking husk of the Jedi Temple over his shoulder as he fled. Hours before, he had stood in the Council chamber. Hours before, he had been knighted. Hours before, he had been given his own mission--a covert operation like the ones he used to do with his old master, Quinlan Vos. He was in his street clothes. The new Jedi Knight figured it must have been the only way the Clone Troopers missed him on their march into the Temple to destroy it.

The Jedi ran for hours, not daring to activate his lightsaber. At last out of breath and unsure where to hide, the Force Cripple whipped into an alleyway and backed into a middle aged man.

"Well!" he said in a gravelly voice. "Look what the kath hound dragged in! You look a mess!" the man laughed, then peered at Wei out of the corner of his eye. "You look to be out of breath. What are you running from?"

Wei had never wished more in his entire life that he was like normal Jedi. If he could feel the Force, he could get an idea about whether or not to trust this man. That's when he saw it. In the back of the truck in a transparisteel case sat a blue ceramic bowl identical to the one from Wei's childhood.

"Running from certain death," Wei said honestly. "I'm--well, I--"

"Certain death?" the man cut in. "Well, that sounds pretty bad. Do you need to go to the authorities?"

Wei shook his head 'no' but couldn't seem to get his eyes off of the bowl.

The man followed Wei's gaze. "You like that bowl, huh? It's from my culture. By running a small stick around the rim of it, it creates the most beautiful sound."

Wei nodded. "I know. My caretaker had one when I was little and would make the sound for me often."

The old man arched an eyebrow. "Where you from, boy?"

"I think I've always lived on Coruscant. I was--" Wei wasn't unsure what to say, so he went for the truth in an ambiguous statement. "I was adopted."

The man nodded. "Come on, then. Get in the back of the cargo skiff. It's just me on the delivery. Need to get back to my ship so I can get off planet."

The two got into the vehicle and once the doors of the enclosed cab were shut, the man said "You're running from whatever's going on in the Temple, aren't you? Don't worry, I'll get out off the planet. You can come live with me. I'm P'u Wu Wei. Pleased to meet you."

"Wei Wu Wei."

"Good name. Very common in my area of Talus. You'll blend right in. If anyone asks, you're my son. We're delivering a set of wooden office furniture to a local business executive."

"Wood?"

"Yeah, wooden furniture is a luxury. Very costly to make. All hand-crafted too. I'm the best there is in five quadrants. By the way, your caretaker wasn't a miralukan, by chance?"

Wei's eyes got wide. "Yeah. Yes he was. His name was Luka Sene."

P'u smiled. "Well, now we won't have to pretend. You really are my son."

Wei nearly shouted. "WHAT?!"

The former Jedi sat bolt upright. Wherever he was, it was dark. The storm still raged, but he could hear it now. He looked up and found it was overhead. He must have crashed on the planet's surface.

To his right, he could see his ship. It still smoked. The bottom looked blackened and scorched. But apart from that, it seemed to be ok. But Wei hadn't landed the ship, and R4 was still inert. So how...

Lightning flashed, casting humanoid shadows across him.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

[Palara Iscandar]

"Report."

Her voice came out more strongly than she expected, given that the shuttle had just crashed into the planet at almost terminal velocity.

"The pilots are dead, Inquisitor," one of the surviving stormtroopers replied, turning away from the remains of the displays.

"We've lost five... six men," another said, stripping the ammunition and thermal detonators from the dead troopers.

Six dead, and they hadn't even faced the Jedi yet.

"Do any of you 'ave experience with ship repairs?" she asked, picking her way around two dead troopers.

"No sir," a stormtrooper replied. The others shook their heads.

"Somezing doesn't feel right," she said, filing away the added complication to her list of worries. She turned to the troopers and bit her lip, pulling back the hood of her robe to expose her lekku. "Stay with ze ship. Do what you can."

She didn't stay to hear their affirmations. She pulled the release lever and twisted it counterclockwise, as the diagram indicated, and the emergency hatch blew open with a hiss as the air locks broke their seals.

They had landed in what seemed to be a dense forest, and a long trail of destruction showed her the fated shuttle's trajectory. She felt, for some reason, the instinct to put some distance between her and the shuttle. Whatever had struck the shuttle, its object had been herself, and her chances at survival were diminished without a working ship and some troopers to provide covering fire.

She proceeded cautiously through the underbrush, following the trail of broken trees and debris away from the crash site.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei jumped up in time to have several spears surround him, pressed uncomfortably at his throat.

The former Jedi slowly raised his hands.

"You are ours now! The Force is strong with us, and we have torn you out of the sky!"

A slender, toned woman stepped forward in the ring and grinned maliciously. "Prepare to be worked until the flesh is flayed from your bones!" She whistled sharply.

The ground shook. Another flash of lightning revealed an enormous silhouette. Whoa. Was that a rancor?

Sure enough, it was. The spears withdrew from his neck in time for the rancor to scoop up the alcoholic in a giant claw and carry him away.

Wei sighed, trying not to show anger. "After all" he said to himself, "it could be worse."

[Palara Iscandar]

She could feel herself being surrounded. The thudding footsteps of a large creature, which reminded her of the abominations Vel Aath had been creating from rancors over in her tower on that green, wild planet. It felt very similar to those creatures.

She withdrew the hilt of her light-whip, but left it unextended and unactivated. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the conflict to come.

The silhouettes of the witches soon appeared in the gloom.

"'Alt, in ze name of ze Empire!" she called. Laughter reached her, and she firmed herself.

A dart lanced in, and the Force remained silent; it stabbed her in the arm, and she pulled it out quickly. She returned to her stance, but in a matter of moments she felt heavy, and tired.

Her resistance crumbled, and her weapon fell from her hand, hitting the earth at the same time as her knees. She saw the rancor, and felt a familiar presence before everything went black.

[Wei Wu Wei]

A short while later, Wei and his father were preparing to land on Talus.

"Welcome home! You can live with me and work in my furniture factory until you save enough for your own place. I expect it's not what you're used to, being a Jedi and all." P'u smiled, making his bushy moustache bristle. "We don't travel a lot, except for deliveries. If you feel a need to travel, you can make a few. But since you're invested in hiding out, I suggest you stay in town. It's a very small place. Mostly there's my factory, a few shops, a bakery and deli, and a training outpost for the local security force. All the wide open space and the woods makes for good training ground."

P'u looked over to Wei. "You going to be ok, son?"

Wei nodded. "I hope so."

The Jedi's father clapped him on the back. "It's all right. We'll take a few days to get you some local clothes and start your training at the factory."


***********

Months passed without any sort of incident. Wei went to work, where he learned to carve wood from a Zabrak named Dao'bur. By the end of the second month, Wei could make tables and chairs from patterns. By the end of the fourth, he could carve basic patterns.

Outside of work, Wei kept mainly to himself. The Empire requisitioned the training outpost for the new stormtroopers, and so loyal Imperial soldiers could be found spending plenty of time in town.

"I understand you need to keep a low profile, but these new stormtroopers aren't clones. They don't know you from Anakin Skywalker. You used to train with lightsabers, right? Why not try vibroswords or teras kasi?"

Wei shrugged and did as his father suggested. It was too hard for the Force Cripple to fake a beginner's level of competence. So after a boring session in the back of the class, the former Jedi tried Teras Kasi. It was nice, but not the same as when he practiced with his lightsaber.

Days dragged on. Wei grew restless and bored. He missed his old life. The war was horrible, but being a Jedi allowed him to make tangible improvements in the quality of all beings across the galaxy.

The former Jedi took to wandering restlessly in the woods, attempting to quell his frustration and anger in meditation and exercise. Nothing helped. Wei tossed fitfully every night in his bed.

Wei woke with a start. The floor felt cold and hard beneath him. It was definitely made of metal. Darkness enveloped him.

"No more naps," he said to himself. Without any way to see, Wei reached for his lightsabers, but couldn't find either one. He pawed around the room until he found a wall. Then he felt along it until he came to a barred door.

"Hello?" Wei called. His voice cracked when he spoke. "Can anyone hear me?"

The Force Cripple's dream had him shaken. His mouth felt dry. His forehead beaded with sweat. His hands began to tremble. Wei was once again fighting withdrawal. "I really wish I had a drink."

[Palara Iscandar]

"I can 'ear you, Jedi," a familiar voice drifted back. "Do try not to vomit. I am close by and ze smell of sweat and bile would be distracting."

The twilek shifted across the darkness. It was only the still silence that allowed the movement to be heard, or the slight lilt in her voice that belied what would normally be considered a calm and detached tone.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei made a face in her direction. "Inquisitor Iscandar. What's a lady like you doing in a place like this?"

It was plain to Wei what she was doing there: the Twilek followed him down to the planet's surface and got captured by the Force witches just as he had. The former Jedi wasn't sure if he ought to be concerned or relieved that he was imprisoned with the Inquisitor.

"I guess they took your weapons, same as they did me?"

***********

It was odd living without a lightsaber. Wei had a hard time adjusting to life without the hour of lightsaber practice he enjoyed each day. Harder still was the adjustment of not having the familiar hum filling his ears and keeping him connected to the Force.

Times like these, Wei was most thankful for his father. Despite never being present in his life, P'u was very attentive to the needs of his son. Recognizing his son's skill with carving tools (no doubt a result of his lightsaber training), the older Wu Wei moved his son to the Detail Shop. It was much quieter there than in the main assembly room. On nice days, the workers left the docking area doors open to let in the breeze. With the addition of a few wind chimes, Wei was able to work and connect to the Force. It helped Wei to find some peace, but he still missed his life as a Jedi.

*********

Wei stepped back away from the cell door and sat down. He needed to get his breathing and heart rate under control. Anxiety would not help him to escape.

[Palara Iscandar]

"Of course zey did," the Inquisitor responded, trying to focus her attention and awareness on the door to her cell, and render her escape.

She sighed, finding the focus elusive. The Dark was potent here, floating on the edges of her senses like a mist of blood and adrenaline. She kept herself centred; even with the totality of the Force open to her as an Inquisitor, she found touching the Dark distasteful, like offering a bribe to achieve a goal. It seemed... cheap, somehow.

"You are not foolish; do not attempt to paint yourself as one."

She continued her meditations and concentration in the darkness and the Dark. Even without succeeding in freeing herself, it was always good to be centred.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei wondered what the place felt like--through the Force, that is. Sometimes it made him anxious that he couldn't just extend his senses at will and get the feel of an area like all is other fellow Jedi. Then there were some times when Wei was glad he couldn't.

This was one of those times when he was glad to be stuck with only his normal senses. Being Dathomir, the place no doubt stank of the Dark Side.

"So," Wei said. "You feeling at home in all this Darkness, Inquisitor?"

[Palara Iscandar]

"Zis Darkness..." she trailed off, frowning, the inclination to simply brush him off and wait to capture him being swept aside by how this Darkness was different from the Darkness of the Citadel.

"It is not ze same," she continued. "Ze Citadel, it is grey, a dark grey, on ze upper levels where we train and practice. Below, it is an oily, cloying Dark, full of fear and torment."

She had never seen what went on below. But her feelings told her just as surely as her eyes could have, and she was greatly unsettled.

"'Ere, ze Dark is light, like mist, per'aps, tinged with blood and is always in motion, like it is stirred and roiled by many people fighting, ze conflict within."

She bit her lip and broke her focus, letting her awareness become first person once more. She wished there was a way to wash, as she always did when meditating and focussing on the Dark.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei found himself irritated. "So your brand of Darkness is better, then? Smoky greys that make you feel better about the tortured and dying you bring in for the sake of justice and peace? And did they torture you as well when they found out you hadn't killed me?"

He wanted so much to just get up and kick her face in. The Galactic Empire took and took and took. Took his life as a Jedi. Took his life as a happy family man. All because someone wanted power, and had enough selfish interest in keeping his power that he'd strip the entire galaxy of power just to keep himself safe.

The former Jedi's blood boiled the more he thought about it. But even though he wanted to vent his rage on this Imperial lackey, he was too sick to really move. So he settled for rubbing the Empire's cruelty in her face.

In the back of his head he knew he was wrong. It seared in his conscience like a laser bolt, chastising him for his high passions and desire for revenge. The whole situation disgusted him. But even as he sat there hating himself and wishing he could be a better Jedi, the circuitous blame game started again.

IT'S ALL THEIR FAULT!

[Palara Iscandar]

"Yes," Iscandar replied after a moment. "And not only zen."

But the Jedi was gone, wrapped up in a cocoon of hate and self-loathing. He couldn't hear her; any words she said would be twisted to the whims of his anger and hate, his reasonable desire to lessen his emotional pain and trauma.

"Ze more you indulge your self pity, ze more attention you will receive from ze Dark Sisters," she said finally. "I would not recommend zat."

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei knew Palara was right, but hated to hear the words coming out of her mouth. He would have to let go. He had done it before. He could do it again.

"Son, is there nothing I can do for you? Your work is good, and your co-workers like you. I hear you're a natural-born leader. Everyone in town admires your manners and your patience. The kids like you. But they all say the same thing: they don't know anything about you and you keep to yourself so much! They're starting to speculate about where you've been and what you've been doing during the Clone Wars."

Wei and his father sat on the front porch under a wind chime. It was beginning to become a ritual that Wei particularly enjoyed. "So, what? Is there a problem with being reserved?"

P'u frowned. "No, son. But you don't do anything but work! It wouldn't kill you to join some of the men at the canteena after work for a drink, or sit outside a coffee shop and talk to a perfect stranger. The town is always doing something social. I just wish you'd try to make some friends." P'u sighed and looked sidelong at his son. "Besides, wouldn't your Jedi masters frown that you've formed such an attachment to your old life?"

Wei rolled his eyes, but still managed a smile. "Fair enough. I'll try harder. But I don't like beer, so I think I'll try coffee instead."

A loud clanging sound broke Wei from his memories. Hungover as he was, the sound was a sharp edge cleaving his skull. He cluched his ears and moaned.

"Yes, cry out in pain, Jedi! You and your companion will pay for intruding here!"

Wei looked towards the voice. A woman in robes stood outside the cell door holding a lamp.

"You will be interrogated, and then your fate will be decided."

[Palara Iscandar]

Palara's eyes opened to find another sister staring her down. Before the thought even had time to settle into her consciousness her hands shot up, palms outstretched, and a wave of the Force barreled into the woman, who cried out and disappeared from the dimly lit doorway.

The Inquisitor was quick to her feet, but the other sister was just as fast. They met just at the entrance to her cell. Iscandar acted on instinct, falling backwards onto her hands and kicking her legs out, making her parallel with the floor. Both booted feet connected, sending the other out. Iscandar's attack overextended, and she fell, hitting the ground with a thud and a sudden gust of air.

Picking herself up slowly, the twilek stepped into the hall and looked around, letting her eyes grow accustomed to the slightly better light in the corridor than in her cell.

Her reprieve didn't last long however, as another group of the witches appeared at the end of the corridor, and yelled angrily at the sight of their two unconscious sisters and the wary Inquisitor above them.

Iscandar barely had time to blink before another dart found its way into her belly. She tugged it out quickly, but the toxin within worked quickly, and she fell unconscious once more.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei could hear the scuffle. Then silence. For a moment all he could hear were his own long, slow, steady breaths. He needed to cope with the pain and do something to help Iscandar if he could.

The Force Cripple forced himself to open his eyes. In the dim light he could see two women standing over him. They grabbed him roughly by the forearms and jerked him up off the floor.

He moaned. He was too weak and sick to do much on his own. The two Force Witches dragged him along. They exited the cell. Wei's captors turned in the hall to get by a third. The witches bowed their heads deferentially to her, causing Wei to dip a little as well.

The former Jedi looked up. He could only really see her chin and her grimace at the edge of his vision, and then her neck, with something hanging around it. Wei blinked and squinted in the dim light. It was a necklace with a pendant that appeared to look like half a lightsaber.

That was it! The thing he came for! Of course! Wei had already collected the wings, now all that was left was to form the lightsaber. He had to get it and get out. The Inquisitor could stay, but Wei had to have that thing around the leader's neck, no matter what.

[Palara Iscandar]

When she awoke, Inquisitor Iscandar was imprisoned within a smaller, more lit cell, sitting with her hands manacled to the wall, and her legs were likewise locked to the floor. A few tugs revealed the chains to be too strong for brute strength, even with the help of the Force, which literally seemed to glitter vibrantly around her, if still tinged with violence and an impassioned verve for life.

The cell was nearly identical to an Imperial cell in a prison facility; the same size, basic shape, and the colouring was uncanny, if the gloss had faded quite a bit. Her mind raced, and she closed her eyes searching through the Force for answers.

"You are not of this world," an aged woman's voice said. It sent chills down Palara's spine with the malice and Dark it conveyed. She opened her eyes and saw a cowled and cloaked woman, whose face, wrinkled with time and the Dark, reminded her of Palpatine. "Your clothing reminds me of the Imperial men we enslaved some time ago."

Palara glanced up sharply. The woman smiled.

"Oh yes," she said, striding to face the younger twilek. "I know of your Empire. How it feared me, and so attempted to leave me stranded on this planet, unable to wrest control of it as I have done here."

Iscandar remained silent.

"You have talent, girl. You may come to be a valued sister to us here, learning powers and abilities that you couldn't learn elsewhere."

The woman went silent, feeling the Inquisitor's mental resistance and bent to bring their faces closer together. Palara's eyes drifted downward, caught by the glint of a chain around her neck, bearing a small medallion. It seemed familiar, but Palara couldn't remember exactly how it was.

"I want to be free of this place, Imperial," the woman breathed. "I can feel my destiny, calling me out to the stars. If you will not help me, then you will be trapped here, just as I am. I am Gethzerion, and I do not make idle promises."

Inquisitor Iscandar watched the old woman leave, and the door shut, slowly and on hinges.

The light flickered out, and she was left in Darkness.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Look, I'm sorry the Empire destroyed the Jedi Order, but you're beginning to destroy my patience."

Wei looked up at his father from his chair on the porch near the windchimes.

"You may not have the ability to wear your lightsaber in public or travel the galaxy to squash intergalactic trouble, but you can still be helpful here, in your community."

Wei glanced at his father, and then let his gaze scan the neighborhood.

"Besides, aren't you supposed to shun attachment?" P'u put his hands on his hips and joined his son in looking at the surroundings. "It's not like you spent most of your Jedi career NOT being a Jedi."

Wei laughed. "I suppose I could do it a little longer."

"What was that, prisoner?"

The former Jedi looked up at the woman shackling him to a wall. He stared at her without a word and vomited on her robes. The smell of bile, half-digested synthetic proteins, and booze filled the air.

"Filthy drunk!" She struck him across the face. "How you wound up out here in the possession of a lightsaber is beyond me!"

"Perhaps he is another agent of the Empire, or even a Jedi." Responded the Force witch's colleague.

"I've never known a Jedi to get sick drunk on alcohol"

"Neither have I," came an harsh voice behind them.

"Mistress Gethzerion!" They spun on their heels and knelt in the cramped space.

"Wait outside. And find one of the slaves to clean up this mess."

The pair stood, bowed, and vacated the cell with purpose.

"So, are you Imperial?" Gethzerion asked Wei, taking him roughly by the face and digging into his cheeks with sharp fingernails.

"No."

"Then you are a Jedi?"

"No."

"Then why are you here on my world? And carrying a lightsaber with you? No one wields a lightsaber that does not know the Force!"

Wei looked at her.

"ANSWER ME!"

"Ask the Imperial."

Gethzerion growled and gave Wei a back-handed slap across the face.

Wei turned with the blow. It didn't do much to soften its sting. Wei faced Gethzerion squarely, and came face-to-face with her necklace. The piece he needed! He tried to get his mind clear, to think straight.

He needed a drink, or he needed his lightsaber. "Did you leave that ship and that droid where you found it? And the lightsaber?"

Gethzerion arched an eyebrow. "Why should I tell you?"

"Without all of them, I can't discover the truth."

"The truth? About what?"

"The truth."

"Do not play games with me. I am not to be trifled with. If you mean to keep me from my destiny, then you will be crushed."

There was something. Not much, but useful enough. He managed to hook her with a few vague words, and hopefully insure that R4 and the starfighter remained whole and unharmed. If Wei could riddle out more of this "destiny" Gethzerion mentioned, he could probably talk his way out of his bonds.

[Palara Iscandar]

Iscandar could see through closed eyes, the sheer vibrancy of the life on the planet.

The herds of Rancors, their intelligence blossoming slowly.

The clans of women and the few free men on the planet, wandering and settled, near mountains and rivers and great seas.

Trees as tall as any building on Imperial Centre, forests of them, covering the soil with shadow and granting some security to the smaller fauna that fled at the sound of footsteps.

She focussed on the clans, however, and saw, briefly, a great shadowy mass drift along the floor of the forests, up to the walls of the fortress in which she was held. A young woman, her eyes glinting, held up an old hilt without a blade. Around her were many others.

Her arms shook with aches and pains from the torture of her continued position and the lightning Gethzerion had plied her with for what seemed to be hours, always stopping before her heart gave out, and allowing her time to breathe and recuperate, only to begin again. She asked no questions.

How long had she been here? She couldn't say for sure.

The door to her cell opened, and she woke.

"I yield," she said, opening her eyes and looking at the black robed woman that had come to feed her. "Tell your Lady I yield. I will do as she asks."