Chapter 30: Mission

The green blade descended; a few more inches, and my head would have likely rolled away from my shoulders. A black blade intercepted the strike. I could feel the energy thrumming near the hilt, the raw power vibrating through the air. Another couple of centimeters and it would have turned lethal.

But mechanical muscles were incapable of shifting my guard even by a millimeter. I felt the droid lunging forward with all its might in a classic Shien form strike, attempting to shatter my defense through sheer brute force.

I sensed that it was about to succeed. But that was exactly what I had been waiting for. I shifted my weight slightly to the side. My lightsaber hissed as the blade retracted. The emerald beam whistled past me. The droid could have tried to adjust its trajectory to reach me, but I was no longer there.

Closing the distance until I was nearly pressed against its weapon arm, I slammed my hilt against its metallic chassis. A high-pitched hum signaled the ignition of my blade, which a heartbeat later erupted through the droid’s back. Another metal puppet collapsed to the floor with a hollow clang.

Loud applause distracted me from inspecting my handiwork.

"Bravo, my friend! You never cease to amaze me. It feels like only yesterday you were running from two 'clankers,' desperate to claw back a few extra seconds of life. Now, three opponents are no trouble at all. Soon, the Emperor might decide you're becoming too expensive to maintain. Do you have any idea how much it costs to build one of those droids, or even to repair one?"

"Shut up, Kamma. I’m certain I’m a more than adequate investment. Perhaps you should focus on improving your own metrics instead."

"No, no... fighting a fair duel while looking into a Jedi’s eyes isn’t my specialty. Slipping past security to eliminate someone the Master deems 'inconvenient'—now that is my job. Or encountering a Jedi, failing to kill them, escaping successfully, and then calling you. After that, you lot can handle it yourself. You’re the one who isn't afraid of losing limbs; you’d probably just become even better with prosthetics. My work is delicate, it requires a specialized approach."

"Thank you for your concern regarding my health and longevity. I truly appreciate it."

"Don't mention it. Only the best for you, esteemed Number One. Aren't you bored yet? Maybe you could relinquish the top spot in the rankings to someone else, just for fun? Eh?"

"Oh, gladly. And lose all my privileges? One gets used to luxury very quickly, you know. Though, you're right, it’s been a long two years. I feel like I've forgotten what the sun and sky even look like. We’re surrounded by nothing but metal, durasteel, and the tank-like hulls of various Temples. Another few months and I’m breaking out of here."

"I’m ready to assist you in that noble endeavor."

Looking at each other, we burst into laughter. Every month, one of us would come up with another 'genius' escape plan that we never actually intended to carry out.

I wasn't entirely certain, but it seemed my friend had also managed to shake off the Emperor’s influence. At the very least, he could now calmly curse the Emperor’s policies and his idiotic resource allocation decisions.

Naturally, this only happened in ventilation shafts or other places where we were certain there was no surveillance, or at least, where we couldn't find any. Though the latter was unlikely.

Kamma had decided to fundamentally reinvent himself as... I don’t even know what. A lethal blend of spy, assassin, and mind-shaper.

After about six months of training, we realized that he would never become a traditional frontline combatant. I was the heavy hitter, capable of facing multiple enemies alone, but he didn't work that way, or rather, he couldn't. Despite all the training. Of course, ordinary sentients were no match for him, but against Force-sensitives, he could only handle them one-on-one.

Yet, at the same time, he was talented, terrifyingly so, in the arts of concealment and mental suggestion.

After spending three days buried in the archives, Kamma returned with his eyes blazing. In the ancient records, he had unearthed information about Sith of old who specialized exclusively in infiltration and assassination.

Through trial and error, and a constant thirst for new knowledge, we had grown significantly during this time. Of course, we weren't even close to the power of the Emperor or the Grand Inquisitor. But we had certainly surpassed the rank-and-file members of the Inquisitorius, those who were raised on half-baked Jedi dogmas.

While the key to Kamma's growth was his incredible ability to find and analyze information, I was aided by the Holocron. The little red sentient within it, who had never revealed his name, was an invaluable source of knowledge.

Despite only seeing each other once or twice a month due to the Director's constant presence on the station and the pyramid’s defective structure, my Master managed to pass on a wealth of useful information. Always complaining about the 'clumsy' Temple Overseer, he would vanish mid-sentence, only to return weeks later.

There were few distractions other than constant training. The only significant event was the arrival of new children. Apparently, the Imperial machine was working efficiently; more than twenty sentients in a single batch.

Interestingly, they were being trained differently than we were. I don’t know what the core difference was, as our group had been moved to another level where we spent most of our time, but in a year of training, only three of the newcomers had lost their minds. And there were no fatalities at all. From my original group, barely fifteen remained.

Our rankings had remained unchanged for over a year. Kamma and I held the top two spots, which was expected. But right behind us was Tifa. We couldn't quite explain her rise. Yes, she was competent, but nothing extraordinary. Among the survivors, there were those both stronger and more naturally gifted in the Force.

"The reason I came..." Kamma said, breaking my train of thought. "The Director is calling for you."

"As always, strictly business. You couldn't just come and visit? You've been wandering off for the last two months, who knows where. Found a tunnel to the planet's core yet, have you?"

"It’s very possible."

"You’re joking?"

"I don't know, but there’s something very interesting down there. Anyway, don't distract me. You need to get to the Chief, urgently."

"Sigh. No rest for the wicked."

My feet carried me through the familiar steel corridors. When the brass calls, it’s best not to linger. The broken legs and arms of those who were significantly late to summons served as an excellent incentive to remain punctual.

The blast doors slid open, admitting me into a spacious hall. Two figures leaned over a long table. A black robe effectively concealed the Director’s features. None of the students knew the species of the king of our school, if this institution could even be called that. A mask covered his face, with only glowing red lenses standing out, shining ominously in the dark.

"What took you so long, Fifth Son?"

The blue hologram of the Grand Inquisitor loomed over me, looking down with a grim expression. It was evident that his face had become even more gaunt than usual. The shadows under his eyes and his hollow cheeks suggested that my Master's affairs were not going well.

I dropped to one knee and bowed my head.

"I greet the Grand Inquisitor."

"Let us dispense with the formalities," the Director's mechanical voice interrupted the silent ritual among the Empire's dark acolytes. "We have little time. Colleague, will you brief him on the matter?"

I saw my Mentor's face twitch when addressed in such a manner, but he restrained himself. Very interesting. Had his authority fallen so low, or had the Director risen so high? For a mere warden overseeing young dark-side initiates to dare speak to a combat Inquisitor that way, something monumental must have happened. But I won't draw conclusions yet. All students are like frogs at the bottom of a well; we see only a small portion of the world. Tracking internal political games is difficult for us.

"To the matter at hand," the Grand Inquisitor pressed a button, and a hologram of a planet surrounded by an asteroid belt appeared above the table. "Fifth Son, you are to undertake a personal assignment."

A cold wave washed over me, mingling with a burning curiosity. My nails dug into my palm. Finally, finally, finally! Freedom, or at least a semblance of it! Two years on the same base; likely everyone here dreamed in secret of escaping, even for a short while.

"...The coordinates will be sent to you later. Now, the essence of the task. The war ended several years ago. But echoes of it still reach us. Do you know who General Grievous was?"

"A cyborg in the service of Count Dooku, one of the primary generals of the Droid Army. As far as I know, he died at the hands of a Jedi named Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Correct. He was also a profound coward and a paranoic, fleeing any situation that endangered him. His survival instinct was truly remarkable. He had numerous bases scattered across the galaxy. Only he knew the locations of many of them. And as a rule, these stations house his trophies. He may have been a coward, but many Jedi perished by his blade. This planet is located on the very edge of the Unknown Regions. An autonomous station belonging to Grievous is there. We know its approximate location, but neither the planet's specifics nor the exact coordinates are known to us. Your task is to find his lair and scout it. If you find anything of value, send a report to me directly."

"As you command, Grand Inquisitor. What ship will be at my disposal? What of the resources provided? When do I depart?"

"You forgot to ask how much time you are allotted," the Director’s mechanical voice dripped with sarcasm. "You have approximately one month to locate and investigate the station. As for the ship and supplies, you will receive everything. They are already waiting for you in the hangar; you may depart immediately. You will collect clothing and other essentials from the quartermaster."

"That is all. You may leave. The Director and I still have matters to discuss."

Giving the Imperial salute, I turned and walked quickly out of the room. Freedom, freedom, freedom! Finally, an opportunity to get out of here. My walk turned into a run as I headed toward the warehouse.

******

"Grand Inquisitor, are you certain you chose the right operative? After all, search and reconnaissance is not the Fifth Son’s specialization. He is a combatant, proficient with a blade and the Force, but he is no scout."

"While stationed here, he managed to uncover several laboratories of great importance to the Emperor using only fragments of data. Do you truly think a simple search mission will be difficult for him?"

"With all due respect, I still insist we should have chosen a different candidate. For instance, his associate, that is precisely his field, or perhaps the girl ranked third. This is the first mission the students will perform; we have no room for error and..."

"The decision is final. This conversation is over."

The hologram flickered out. The screech of grinding metal filled the empty room. The mournful chirping and flashing sensors of a droid died out. A metallic orb slammed into the wall with immense force, leaving a substantial dent.

"Bastard... you’ve lost the Emperor’s trust, yet you still dare treat me this way. If not for you, I wouldn't be stuck dealing with this refuse. Well, it seems I may be able to thwart your plans after all. The Force itself pushes me down this path. Did you think I didn't know he was your apprentice? No matter, I’ve planned everything in advance. I only hope the necessary comms channel is open. Those paranoids only open it for a few minutes once a week. Though, in a way, I understand them. Hmm... a crime should have a witness, shouldn't it?"

Pressing a few keys on the table, the Director brought up an image of a girl.

"Tifa, come to my office. I have an assignment for you."

"Yes, Master."

******

"Are you planning to start your own colony on some planet? Why so much gear!?"

Kamma and I watched the equipment being loaded. Droids were methodically moving heavy containers, stacking them in the cargo hold of my ship.

I suppose he was right in a way. The warehouse had so much available that I couldn't help myself. I packed the vessel to the brim. And I didn't neglect my own needs either. Comfortable, baggy trousers covered my legs. A dark, long-sleeved shirt made of a specialized weave capable of resisting a glancing blaster bolt felt pleasant against my skin. A wide belt was cinched tightly around my waist, holding my lightsaber.

Over my clothes sat a set of light armor, protecting my upper body. Small plates guarded my calves and thighs. Comfort was my priority; I wanted the ability to move fast. The Force and my lightsaber provided all the 'heavy' protection I needed.

"You know," I said, running a hand through my hair, which had grown long enough to pull into a tail. "You're probably right. It's overkill. On the other hand, there’s absolutely no information about the planet. I checked the charts, it’s not just on the border; it’s practically in the Unknown Regions. Hutt knows what’s out there. Better to take too much than too little."

"Fair point. How long will you be gone?"

"About a month. Fly out, search, find it, fly back."

"Mmm. It’ll be boring here without you. Just do me a favor, don't start a new war without me, okay?"

"I can't make any promises, my friend. None at all."

"By the way, did you know Tifa is also heading out somewhere?"

"How do you know? Your 'hidden sources' again?"

"Let's assume so. My point is, I feel something is off, but I don't know what. It’s a foul sensation. So... watch your back, alright?"

His expression was so grave that there was no way to take the situation lightly. I could only nod and firmly shake his extended hand.

The clank of metal footsteps announced the arrival of the local technical staff.

"Loading complete, sir."

"Safe travels, Set."

"Good luck not dying of boredom without me, buddy."

Running up the ramp, I finally inspected the interior of the ship.

They hadn't given me a standard Imperial vessel, but rather something civilian, bordering on scientific. If I wasn't mistaken, it was a transport designed specifically for scouting the Unknown Regions. Perfect for my purposes.

Whistling and making sounds that were clearly droid-profanity, a trash-can-on-wheels rolled toward me.

"R3, what are you complaining about? Go prep the engines, we're taking off soon."

Replying in its binary tongue, the droid scurried into the bowels of the ship.

The interior, for the record, wasn't that expansive. A couple of single cabins, a cargo hold now stuffed to the ceiling, a cockpit, and that was about it.

Dropping into the pilot's seat, I activated the instrumentation.

"This is Fifth Son. Requesting clearance for departure."

"Departure clearance granted."

"Super. Just try not to shoot me down by mistake."

The ship began to hum steadily, and the world outside the viewport began to slide downward. With a few simple maneuvers, my starship cleared the hangar.

The feeling of freedom was literally bursting within me. A joyful shout echoed through the cabin. I sped past mountain peaks, which soon gave way to dense forests. Dropping low, I performed a strafing run over the treetops, the downdraft stripping leaves from the branches.

A sharp pull on the stick sent the ship soaring into the sky, disappearing into the clouds. Unable to help myself, I pulled two barrel rolls in a row. Only after a while did the euphoria begin to subside.

A few minutes later, I was in open space. The black eternity, lit by a myriad of stars, surrounded the small vessel.

"R3, plot a course to the specified coordinates."

After a confirming trill, I engaged the lever. The stars stretched into long streaks of light, and we leaped into hyperspace.

"How long is the jump? And keep in mind, I don't understand a word you’re saying, so be so kind as to link up with the translator."

Muttering something unintelligible, the droid rolled over to the console. A few seconds later, lines of text began to scroll across one of the monitors:

“Estimated flight time: seventeen hours. It is recommended that you spend this time studying Binary so that we may communicate on an equal level.”

"Thanks. I'll be sure to add that to my very busy schedule. You’re in charge; wake me up thirty minutes before we revert to realspace."

“Order accepted. I advise against sleeping for so long; it may negatively affect your health.”

"Oh, so you're a medic too?"

“My functions are multifaceted. But no, I am not a medic. This information was obtained from the base medical droid.”

"I’ll keep that in mind. Anyway, I’m out."

Entering my room, the first thing I did was activate my datapad and begin reviewing the saved files. Since I had free time, I might as well exercise my brain instead of my muscles.

Over the past two years, I had accumulated a mountain of data, but the largest folder was dedicated to the laboratories. Thousands of news reports, archival data, audio, and video files. Five discovered laboratories and one space station—the result of painstaking work.

But I hadn't turned all the data over to the Empire. Only the sites I was one hundred percent certain of. There were two other locations that might or might not exist. They were in active combat zones and might now be nothing more than space debris drifting in the void. But if not...

They would be excellent fallback points if I ever needed to go to ground or use them as supply caches. I hadn't entirely abandoned the idea of escaping the Emperor’s reach. Though for now, the benefits of working for the Empire outweighed the drawbacks.

Still, while access to Imperial resources was convenient, it was better to have a corner of the galaxy that no one knew about. Or perhaps I should leak this data and establish my own base somewhere on the Outer Rim entirely on my own?

Well, that was a question for the future. For now, I needed to refresh my memory on this 'Grievous' fellow. I recalled finding a mention of one of his stations in the archives.

It had been discovered by Kit Fisto and another Jedi with a small squad of clones. Given that only one of them made it out alive, I should expect trouble. Sigh... there was enough reading here to last for hours.

I woke up because my arm had gone numb. It’s a strange sensation. The arm is there, but it feels non-existent. Not yet fully returned to the waking world, I began vigorously rubbing my forearm to get the blood flowing and restore sensation.

The datapad had partially fallen behind the bed. Some pieces of my armor had left small bruises on my skin. I must have been sleeping in a ridiculous position. Most importantly, I didn't even remember falling asleep. Apparently, the reading material wasn't exactly a page-turner.

Stretching my entire body, I made my way to the cockpit. The droid was tucked into a corner, its indicators blinking slowly.

"R3, how much longer?"

Whirring, the 'bucket' moved its head, seemingly focusing on me. It beeped but didn't move.

"Do your circuits get stiff too? Don't worry, it passes. In case you forgot, I still don't understand you."

Did I imagine it, or did the droid just sigh? Fully activating, it rolled to the console. A moment later, text appeared on the screen:

“Perhaps you will learn Binary? It is not difficult at all; I am certain you would succeed.”

"Maybe. Someday. If I have the time. Speaking of time, how much longer?"

“Two hours and fourteen minutes, Master.”

"Great. And what am I supposed to do with all that time?"

“Learn Binary?”

"Clever. You know what? Why not? Right after my workout."

Practicing saber forms alone proved a bit tedious. Maybe I should 'appropriate' a training droid next time. After finishing my basic drills, I sat down to learn the new language so I could understand at least a fraction of those beeps and whistles.

It turned out to be surprisingly engaging, and time flew by. I would have kept at it if not for my assistant’s trill over the internal comms.

A line appeared and then vanished on the nearest screen:

“Reverting to realspace in five minutes.”

"Wonderful, my metallic friend. Simply wonderful."

The ship dropped back into open space.

Before me lay a grey planet, dotted with small patches of green and shrouded by an asteroid belt. Dark clouds covered most of the surface, illuminated periodically by flashes of lightning.

Taking the controls, I guided the ship toward the unwelcoming sphere.

"R3, begin scanning the designated quadrant for lifeforms larger than average. I’d rather not stumble onto a Gundark or any sentients."

“No results found.”

"Super. Nothing to interfere with the search."

The ship descended smoothly. Passing through the dark clouds, and, thanks to the Force, avoiding a strike from the relentless lightning, we landed successfully on a relatively flat stretch of rock.

The ramp hissed open, allowing me to breathe the air of this grim planet, which immediately made me grimace.

Dark grey, sharp spikes made of an unknown mineral jutted out in every direction. The stale air, with a distinct aftertaste of swamp gas, made it hard to breathe properly. A whitish fog obscured the surrounding terrain; it felt as though strange silhouettes were moving within it, constantly changing shape, drifting closer and then pulling away. The sun barely pierced the gloom, leaving the world looking bleached and virtually colorless.

"Well, Grievous certainly knows how to pick a planet. Grim, stuffy, high humidity, and nothing but rocks. R3, what do you think? It’s practically a resort. What sane person would come here of their own free will, eh?"

An unintelligible series of beeps was my answer.

"I don't know what you said, but you’re probably right. Listen up. The ship is your responsibility. Watch the perimeter; if anything strange shows up, let me know. And try to run a detailed scan of the quadrant, see if you find anything. It’s 'lovely' here, but I’d rather not linger. Understand?"

The droid beeped and rolled back into the ship.

Well, time for me to get to work. Wrapping myself tighter in a cloak I had 'borrowed' from one of the containers, I moved through the fog into the heart of the stone forest.

The realization that this was not my best idea came after only fifteen minutes. The identical stone monoliths made it impossible to tell which way I was going. A few times, I had the impression I was standing still and the world was moving around me.

"R3, do you read me?"

Only the sound of static answered me in the oppressive silence. Well, the evening was turning out to be anything but dull. At least five paths loomed in the fog, and I had no idea which one I had come from.

If you don't know whether to go left or right, go up, right?

But even that tactic bore no fruit. After spending ten minutes climbing as high as I could, without really knowing what I was scaling, nearly falling twice and scraping my hands bloody, I managed to reach a summit.

My irritation peaked when I looked out over a sea of white and grey. The cursed fog effectively hid everything below. Only the tips of stone peaks, like dark icebergs floating in a white ocean, were visible in the distance.

Cursing the Empire and the Grand Inquisitor under my breath, I managed to climb down, escaping with only a few more scratches.

Suppressing the urge to hack a boulder to pieces with my saber, I leaned my back against one and began to think. The rough surface felt pleasantly cool, even through my clothes. My wet hair was plastered to my face. Droplets ran down the strands and slipped down my collar.

The foul, humid air, barely moved by the wind, forced me to breathe rapidly to compensate for the lack of oxygen.

The situation looked hopeless at first glance, and at second glance, too. I didn't know where to go, comms were down, visibility was non-existent, I had no food or water, and my clothes were already soaked. Hmm, I suppose the water issue is solved, but who knows if it’s drinkable.

There was nothing left but to trust in the Force.

Stretching out a hand, I slipped into a light trance, as I had done many times while navigating the dark corridors toward my meditation spot. Seeing nothing, but feeling the surrounding space with every cell of my body, I surrendered myself to the Force, nudging it to help me.

The sound of my footsteps was muffled by the fog; if not for my concentration, I doubt I would have heard them at all. I didn't know where I was going, yet I felt myself moving correctly through the labyrinth nature had built for some unknown purpose.

I could now clearly sense that there was no one within several dozen meters. Only grim stones and fog, no signs of life. Just a dead, grey desert through which I had to trek.

I don’t know how long I walked; time condensed into a single point and simultaneously stretched for days. No matter how much I meditated, I could never get used to that sensation.

Nevertheless, at some point, my hand struck a metallic surface. Calming myself, I opened my eyes to see the damp, smooth hull of my ship, safe and sound.

Exhaling in relief, I slid down the side of the vessel. So much for being the 'smartest and toughest.' If not for the Force, I would have perished in that fog.

A moment later, the ramp opened and R3 rolled down. I might have imagined it, but it seemed to tilt its domed head in surprise.

"I am never leaving the ship again without a map, a compass, chalk, and breadcrumbs. Check if there's anything to dry my clothes with. I think there's more moisture in them than in an entire lake. We have some very difficult work ahead of us, my dear bucket."