Chapter 27: Ghost and Gossip

To say I was in shock would be an understatement. The entity I had considered a figment of my fevered imagination, some strange manifestation of the Force, was now speaking to me through a holocron.

The snide, wrinkled creature squinted at me as if about to share a piece of thrilling gossip. His dark poncho had slipped once more, revealing a surprisingly lean, athletic frame.

"But... how?"

"How did I end up in this little pyramid? Simple enough. I just had to extinguish the consciousness of the Temple’s head priest and take his place. That old windbag had more ego than actual power. If I hadn't fallen into a sort of stasis, I probably would have broken free while he was still breathing. Of all the guardians, he was the most pathetic and weak."

He paced within the projection's confines.

"All he could do was use the Force to bully followers weaker than himself. If it weren't for that armor, specially crafted by the Order's finest smiths, he never would have held his position. A shame you didn't scour the temple, by the way; there were many treasures there. But too late to fret over that now. I seized this vessel, and then it was just a matter of waiting for you to come along and pick me up."

"But that’s impossible!"

"And who told you that, hmm?"

The creature's mouth twisted into a smirk, and a brow, or where a brow should have been, arched ironically.

"Believe me, the more knowledge and skills you possess, the more possibilities open before you. And I’m not just talking about the Force, but mundane skills as well. Force-sensitives make excellent pilots, but if you don't train, a natural ace can still blast you out of the sky."

He continued, his tone shifting to something more reflective. "As for my transfer... do you think I haven't been calculating my escape for the last thousand years? Oh, believe me, if I tried to write down all the theories, experiments, and calculations I’ve performed in that time, the surface of an entire planet wouldn't suffice. You cannot break a sentient’s spirit just by binding them to a location. A prison can unexpectedly become an excellent training ground. If only I hadn't drifted off... though perhaps it all worked out for the best. Who knows?"

My face must have been an open book, because he finally deigned to explain further.

"When you were lying there, dying yet again by that cliff, ironic, since it was almost exactly where we first met, I decided to patch you up. Why? Because I could. Because I felt like it. Apparently, you grew on me. During that time, I had a vision in the Force: a vision that you would win this little 'Trial' of yours."

The red figure clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing like a professor delivering a lecture.

"Then I thought, 'What the Hutt, why not give it a try?' Drifting through the galaxy as a ghost isn't exactly a riot. Some other Sith would eventually catch me and bind me to a new rock. Do you think the Rule of Two is followed religiously?"

He snorted. "Oh no, that's impossible. Both Jedi and Sith left behind countless artifacts. They aren't exactly common, but the chance of an archaeologist stumbling upon one is far from zero. For a powerful enough spirit, seizing a body isn't that difficult. Then there are the apprentices tossed into the scrap heap who survive and plot revenge against their masters. No matter how much you try to eradicate one side, it never truly vanishes."

"So I thought, rather than wasting time aimlessly, I’d take a risk. I’ll find a way out of here eventually; it’s just a matter of calculation. And besides, you owe me. Believe me, in my long life, I’ve learned to sense when a person is rotten to the core, and I don't get that scent from you. Will you act in your own interests? Undoubtedly. But as long as we’re cooperating, you won't stab me in the back. So, why not make a deal?"

"Heh. A 'mutually beneficial' one?"

"You wound me, dear boy. I only make the best deals. I need a new body; you need power and knowledge. Let’s help each other. I see it in your eyes, you’re doubting. You’re wondering where you’ll ever find a body for this old fool, aren't you?"

He hit the bullseye. Among the dozens of questions swirling in my head, that was certainly one of them.

"Don't answer, I know I'm right. I'll teach you. I might not look it now, but I was quite the scientist in my day. Cloning and essence transfer were among my particular interests. If it weren't for that brute, Bane, I would have perfected my experiments and achieved true immortality. Though, how ironic: in a way, that’s exactly what happened. He gave me the chance to refine every detail to a hundred percent certainty."

I watched him pace and thought intensely: What do I do? On one hand, the Emperor himself gave me this thing, so it was mine to use. On the other hand, maybe I should just throw it into a star? The Force whispered that if I allied with this being, there would be trouble—lots of it.

If any Inquisitor heard what he was saying, they’d destroy the holocron and me along with it. Yet, most of what he said felt logical.

"Not convinced, eh?" The pointed ears drooped slightly. "How about this: I’ll teach you for free. There’s nothing else to do here anyway, and I’m tethered to this trinket for the next couple of years. If you feel like helping me later, you will. How’s that? A no-lose bargain?"

It did sound tempting. Learning from a powerful being who had lived for centuries was a rare opportunity. But it felt too easy. I couldn't sense any lies, but that meant nothing, with his experience, he could probably lead me in circles without breaking a sweat. And what guarantee was there that he wouldn't just take my body? He said he needed one, after all.

"What’s the catch?"

"No catch. It'll just be dreadfully boring sitting inside these four walls while I prepare the ritual to break the holocron and free my consciousness."

"And you aren't worried I’ll turn you over to the Emperor or his people?"

"Why wouldn't I be? It’s a possibility. But it’s unlikely. I’ve already stripped away your primary mental conditioning, so for the most part, you’ll be thinking for yourself. And for you, it’s more profitable to play both sides—cooperate with me and the current regime simultaneously. I can give you things the Empire cannot, and vice versa. It’s more practical to sit on two chairs at once."

He was right. Currently, that was the most logical path. Training with the Grand Inquisitor was one thing, but being tutored by an ancient master was on another level. If things went south, I could always destroy the holocron.

"And what will you do once you have a body?"

"Hmm." He either fell into deep thought or was aiming for a holovid award for acting. "I suppose first, I’ll take your credits and find a high-end brothel to enjoy myself. I haven't seen a woman in a thousand years; I’ve missed the company, so to speak. I’ll need to make the body young, too. No one wants to be born an old man. After that, we’ll see. But I don't think I’ll have the urge to crawl back into this Jedi-Sith viper’s nest. So much filth and drama... I’ve seen it, I’ve tasted it, no thank you. One side is obsessed with their religion, the other with their thirst for power, and there's a massive layer of the mentally ill in between."

He sighed. "There are decent ones in the pack, surely, but I have no desire to go looking for them. I’ll live a long, happy life and then peacefully pass into the Force. Hopefully for good this time."

It was incredibly frustrating that I couldn't read him. Usually, you can sense a flicker of truth or a lie, or at least feel the "wall" of a mind closed to you. But this... total inability to distinguish anything was maddening.

Despite the suspicion, I saw no reason to refuse his help for now. I could always exit the deal by tossing the holocron out an airlock or handing it to my Master.

"Fine. I agree."

"Excellent, marvelous!" With a flick of his wrist, he produced that familiar flask as if by magic. "I won't offer any to children or the infirm anymore. It takes too much energy to manifest it for you. Go have some tea, or juice, or whatever it is you people drink now. Once you’ve celebrated, come back. I’ll figure out what would be most useful for you to learn first. Now, off you go."

With a wave of his hand, the image vanished. The holocron returned to its dormant state and hit the floor with a soft chime.

Well, I thought, things just keep getting stranger.

I slipped back into a light meditation to organize my thoughts.

The Grand Inquisitor had brainwashed me. The goal? Absolute loyalty to the Emperor and himself. As long as I play the part, I’m safe.

My Status. I am now the strongest among the acolytes. This gives me the breathing room I need to grow. We are the "senior" generation; unless some prodigy shows up, I’m at the top of the food chain.

The Timeline. The Grand Inquisitor wants to fast-track me into the Inquisitorius. I need to avoid drawing the attention of Palpatine. A monster of his caliber would see through my act in a heartbeat. Ideally, I return to base and wait a year before asking about the Inquisitor's promise to help with my revenge.

The Ancient Master. He has his own goals, but as long as he’s trapped in the pyramid, he’s a resource. Maybe he could even be a counterweight to the Emperor one day, creating enough chaos for me to vanish into the Unknown Regions.

I drifted into a deep meditation. This time, there were no visions or warnings. My consciousness simply floated in the void. For the first time in a long while, I felt true, unadulterated peace. I felt the tension, those tightly wound springs in my soul, finally begin to uncoil.

When I opened my eyes, my new Mentor was watching me closely.

"You certainly know how to surprise a person. Even at our first meeting, I sensed you weren't a typical Dark Side user, but something... else."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, you’re just different. Not all techniques of the Dark Side will be yours to command, but in our situation, that’s better. I’m the same way. I never saw the point in dogmatically following one side. Though I never fully mastered 'Balance' either. With my quirks and experiments, the Dark Side was simply more... convenient. Ah, those were the days."

"So you aren't a Sith Lord?" It sounded stupid, like a child realizing the tooth fairy wasn't real.

We stared at each other for ten seconds before he nearly burst with laughter. If he were alive, he would have dislocated his jaw. I had to wait several minutes for him to stop.

"Listen, kid. If you ever find a Sith Lord who is even thirty percent like me, I promise I’ll pluck a star from the sky for you or make you ruler of the galaxy. Ha! Do you know the main difference between most Sith and people like us? They have a total atrophy of self-irony. And a sense of humor in general."

He sat cross-legged in the air. "That was one of the key reasons I left the Sith Order. They’re all too serious. Believe it or not, in all my years there, I only found a couple of sentients who didn't give pathetic speeches about galactic imbalance or weave constant webs of intrigue. I’m not saying they’re all like that, but most I dealt with were. They have power, sure, and they get things done. But I’m a scientist. I couldn't care less about galactic conquest. Anyway, here's to independence, uniqueness, and not boring people to death with grand monologues!"

He ceremoniously toasted with his flask and took a swig.

"Enough lyrics. I’ve thought of how to occupy you for the next month. I can't appear often; it’s too risky. The Force tells me to keep my head down. Where we are heading, there is something dark and powerful. And my strength hasn't recovered from the transfer yet. Listen carefully. To build a building, you need a foundation. You have most of it, but you lack two things."

"And what are they? Force techniques? Physical conditioning?"

"No, you’re fine there. Better than fine for your age. No, it’s two things—one simple, one complex. The simple one: you need hand-to-hand combat skills."

I raised an eyebrow.

"I’m serious. You might lose your lightsaber. You might be captured, betrayed, or the damn thing might just break. You have the reflexes, but you need a proper strike and basic technique. I’m sure this ship has archives; look up combat forms for Force-sensitives."

"And the second?"

"That’s the hard part. You need stability. Not balance or peace, but internal stability and self-assurance. You’re close, but you’re still torn between conflicting desires. It's normal for your age, but you need to decide where your path leads after your revenge. Otherwise, you’ll end up in a void."

"I—"

"Stop... damn it. I overestimated this idiot’s capacity..." As he spoke, the projection began to flicker and blur. "Who builds these stupid holocro—"

He didn't finish. The image glitched and vanished.

Great, I thought. More information to process. Can't a guy just live for his own pleasure? No rest for the wicked.

I decided to wander the ship. I wasn't tired, and I was bored. After an hour, I stumbled upon an officer’s mess, or a lounge of some sort. No one noticed me; they were all enthralled by an officer at the central table who was speaking with intense focus.

"...and his eyes, they’re just terrifying. Even through the mask, you feel that cold, piercing gaze. It’s like he’s scanning you, weighing your worth to the Emperor. God help you if he finds you wanting."

"Oh, come off it. No one is that scary."

"Meet him yourself, then talk!" The officer stood up, leaning over the table. "He just walked past me, and I had goosebumps all over. If I’d been alone with him, I think I would have just dropped dead on the spot."

Another officer, his tunic unbuttoned, stared into his drink with glassy eyes. "I think you’re demonizing him, colleague. I’ve heard he is harsh, yes, but just. The Legion under his command is considered the best in the Empire. If you fail, you pay. If you excel, you’re rewarded."

A younger, eager officer couldn't hold it back anymore. "Well, a relative of mine who works... well, who knows things... told me otherwise. He punishes the slightest mistake. If you’re even slightly rude, boom, get your casket ready. Some customs officer tried to delay his ship, and they found the poor man in his booth with a snapped neck. And nothing happened to him! It’s like he has the same authority as the Emperor himself."

"Where did he even come from?!" A portly man on a sofa boomed, making the glasses on the tables rattle.

"No one knows. One day he just appeared out of nowhere, following the former Chancellor everywhere. Rumor has it there have been seventy assassination attempts on him, and not one succeeded. Plenty of officers lost their lives trying, though."

"And we have to cross paths with him?"

"Yes, I heard some of our officers are being transferred to his ship for a mission."

The youngest officer at the table, not even twenty yet, raised his hand like a schoolboy.

"Gentlemen, I think I know who you are talking about... but let me be sure. It’s him, isn't it? Lord Vader?"