The hum of our ignited sabers still echoed faintly in the hangar, their hiss slowly fading into the background of the blaring sirens. My senses finally cleared from the type of battle focus I found myself in, and I realized I was wet. It wasn't sweat but from the emergency sprinkles coming on, thanks to the fire we caused. Smoke curled from damaged fuel lines and shattered crates around me, and my breath came in sharp pulls, not from any type of exhaustion but from tension... from the fact I realized the two auras heading our way.
My brother's current presence was sharp, a bit chaotic, and soaked in incredible anger. More than the two Sith had in them... I was simply glad he wasn't Force-sensitive. As for the other presence... It was colder. Older. It was familiar in a way I had tried to forget because it was calculative and without much emotion. I wondered for a moment if it was the type of state that Iowi was preaching in the past.
My Father may have been a good Jedi in the old system, huh?
"I feel them," I said aloud, rising slowly from where I had my saber to the throat of the now-disarmed Sith. He remained kneeling, clutching his burned arm, his breathing labored but defiant. Still, he know it would be foolish to try and run... The only chance they had remaining was if, somehow, my eldest brother could talk them out of it, probably by taking them as his prisoners and then escaping from there. Not that I would let them do so, now that I caught their fleeting ideas, my senses still locked onto them.
In the meantime, Vila also glanced toward the entrance, her lightsaber still at the ready, his body remaining in her battle stance. She kept her boot pressed against her own opponent's chest, sometimes increasing the pressure with the Force when the other one tried to wiggle free of her. It only caused the masked Sith to groan under the weight. Heh, stubborn, just like Vila. Maybe that was why they used the same lightsaber form? No matter, Vila was stronger.
"They're almost here," she suddenly said, as if asking me if I was ready for a reunion.
"I know," I said, catching her look back at me over her shoulder and giving me a smile. Then...
A moment later, the blast doors hissed open.
Not surprisingly, it was Darian who strode in first, flanked by six of his Death's Head troopers in full armor, their rifles raised but not yet firing. Not that he would have any chance, as Master Katarn and Ben were standing between us, poised to deflect any incoming attacks.
He wore his ceremonial Commodore's coat over a sleek combat uniform, his neural interface blinking faintly at his temple, scanning us, probably calculating the best possible method to make sure he comes out of this free of consequences. It's too bad that this time around, he didn't have all the data. For a moment, I couldn't stop myself from smirking. It was my time to finally pull one on him.
Behind him, just a breath later, at a measured pace, came my Father. Moff Alric Valtherion, his hair tied back, his boots tapping softly on the floor. He was flanked by two officers and—unexpectedly—a figure I recognized from my studies: Grand Admiral Pellaeon. No wonder my brother was so frustrated.
The sight of the Admiral made me straighten, and I could feel the Sith soldiers flinch. Ahhh... I see. Their thoughts were swirling, and without any defenses, I could easily tap into them. It wasn't exactly mind-reading, but I managed to get the gist of their plans. They knew my brother was keen on betraying the deal between them... Of course, he was. So they tipped off the admiralty through an intermediary, huh? And they would have gotten away with it if not for the current moment. Too bad.
Remaining silent, I watched as Master Katarn nodded his head in calm indifference while my Master did the same, his arms folded behind his back, not even reaching for his lightsaber. I wouldn't be surprised if the two wouldn't even need them for this moment.
Then, my eyes met with the famous Admiral, Pellaeon's own gaze as he took it all in with a glance: the subdued Sith, the still-burning crates, the exposed lightsabers in our hands... then the faces of our Masters. Of course, there was recognition in his eyes, unlike in the eyes of my brother. While that idiot didn't even think about it, Admiral Pellaeon knew who they were.
"Well," he said dryly, "this certainly simplifies matters."
"Grand Admiral...." Darian scowled. "Your arrival is most welcomed. These Sith have been trying to infiltrate our Empire, led by my bastardly younger brother who ran away all those years ago. I just detained them when you arrived and––"
"What a load of bantha shit," Vila snapped, jerking her thumb at the groaning figure beneath her. "These are Sith, yes, but we? Are you blind?" she snorted, waving her orange-colored blade.
"Shut up," Darian's expression tightened, eyes flicking between us and the captured Sith. Heh, he was shocked again, realizing it wasn't just me who had access to the Force, hm? Maybe that implant finally began putting it together?
In the meantime, Admiral Pellaeon didn't answer. Instead, he motioned to one of the officers behind him, who brought up a datapad. Then, the Admiral held it out for the Moff. My Father took one glance at the projected holo and then nodded, calm, not even a flutter in his emotions. What I could tell was that he was given simply a confirmation, making sure he wasn't going to try and argue against what was coming.
"Take Darian Valtherion into custody." He finally spoke, making my brother open his mouth and try to say something. His personal guards didn't move, but before their blasters could move to aim at the Admiral, he continued. "These are encrypted logs," Pellaeon explained calmly, holding another datapad in hand, "intercepted by my people and verified through independent channels. They are communications between these two," he gestured at the Sith, "and someone who claimed knowledge of this station's infrastructure. Someone who provided them with star charts—classified ones—along with recommended routes beyond Imperial borders. Anything else to add, Commodore Darian?"
"Slander!" he said hoarsely, "It is a fabrication! The ploy of the Sith! I was here to capture them and present them to you, Father! They were here to mind-control us, maybe me, to take revenge on the family!" he said suddenly, pointing to me. "Kael has been consorting with Dark Side agents for years. Just look at him! He returned here under false pretenses, and I intercepted him before he could execute whatever plot he had. The system logs will back me up! These Sith were his allies; they were just betraying each other as these scum always do! I captured them—"
"Captured them?" Master Katarn cut in, raising an eyebrow, probably having enough of this, "Sorry, but the ones who captured them are our Padawans. The best you could do was scratch your nose. From the inside."
"Please, stop," Ben stepped beside him. "Your framing is sloppy, Commodore."
"I demand a tribunal," Darian said sharply, appealing to my Father now. "Father, you see what they're trying to do—turn this farce into a Jedi-led inquisition! They've infiltrated us, tricked the Admiral, and now they're undermining House Valtherion!"
My Father, just like usual, didn't speak. His eyes stayed locked on Darian, examining him with cold indifference, probably weighing the pros and cons of saving him or not. Reaching out... I could feel that it was precisely what he was doing. And the decision was clean, unbothered. Uncaring.
"You disappoint me, Darian," he said at last. "You think I didn't suspect?" Alric continued. "That I didn't know you were scheming? That I didn't see the trails in the ledger, the sudden redirections in R&D, the quiet disappearance of entire ships from the logs? You insult me. But what I am disappointed about is that you are trying to frame these two." He pointed not at me or Vila... but at Master Katarn and Ben. "You could have pulled this off with some other Jedi... But... haaah. Never mind."
"These two?" He scowled, but he didn't need to ponder for long, hearing the Admiral's voice.
"Jedi Master Kyle Katarn's name should be familiar to you. Also, it has been a long time, Master Skywalker." He nodded at Ben, who simply smiled, returning the greeting.
"It is good to see you in excellent health, Admiral Pellaeon."
"You..." My brother gawked, finally realizing, he just called a bluff on a Pure Sabacc hand... and lost. "I did it for the Empire!" Darian roared. "You're old, Father! We needed new power—new strength! Not empty talks and clinging to Pellaeon's corpse of a command!"
Hearing it, the Admiral didn't flinch, he just smiled a little. Interesting.
"You struck a deal with Sith remnants," My Master said simply. "Not for the Empire. For yourself. Admiral," he looked at the old man, "We are requesting to take the two into Jedi custody. We are on the trail to find the rest of their coven before they take root somewhere we can't reach them."
"Naturally, the Empire is happy to assist."
Being ignored so much, Darian looked like he might strike right then and there. His hand hovered near his vibrosword. I didn't fear he would be able to do any harm but as a Jedi... I stepped forward before the moment could turn violent.
"Darian," I said, my voice quiet, "It is over. Give up, and don't hurt the family any longer."
"You never belonged to this family," he spat, trembling with rage. "You were a curse the moment you touched the Force."
"And yet here I am," I said. "trying to save what's left of it." I sighed, glancing once at my Father, who only gave me one returning look before his eyes moved from my face.
For a long moment, no one moved.
"As I declared," Then Pellaeon stepped forward, fearless. "Commodore Valtherion," he said, voice steely. "You are hereby placed under arrest by order of the Imperial Remnant. You will be taken into custody for conspiracy with hostile Force-wielders, violation of military secrecy protocols, and treason against your commanding officer."
Darian's face went slack with shock, his hand finally slumping from the hilt of his decorative sword. The stormtroopers behind him hesitated—then one lowered his weapon. Then another.
They weren't going to die for him.
And now he was alone.
"No..." he whispered, maybe feeling that he could do something, but by then, Pellaeon's guards were there to shackle him.
It was over.
...
....
...
The hangar was really quiet real soon. The Sith were in binders. Darian had been marched off, no longer screaming about betrayal. The fires had been completely extinguished, and cleanup crews had arrived, while we moved to a
While the others were discussing what happened, Vila stood beside me as I looked out toward the stars from the hangar entrance.
"Your brother," she said, "wasn't that smart. Are you two really related?"
"He was always like that," I grinned. "He can be smart, but then he gets overconfident and pushes down those who would overtake him. I know; I was on the receiving end a lot."
"Yeah, I can see that." She nodded, moaning and stretching. "Anyway, that fight was good! I enjoyed it a lot!"
"You enjoy all fights, no?" I joked, making her wink at me.
"But this was real! Actual danger, an actual Dark Side user... I want to repeat it."
[Commentary: It was the most boring moment of my reactivated life. Nobody died. No limbs were cut off. Conclusion: Sloppy, amateur work if I say so myself.]
"Nobody cares," we both answered him at once, but he was unperturbed.
[Genuine Request: At least let me handle the interrogation. If I need to spend another moment doing nothing but shuffling after meatbags, my core processor will automatically self-destruct from the boredom.]