Chapter Text
Nar Shaddaa’s air was thick and soupy. The heat was somehow less intense than Tatooine yet twice as unbearable. Perhaps, Luke thought, I’m just not used to a Hutt’s preferred humidity. The Jedi Knight thought back to the mission to infiltrate Jabba’s palace and rescue Han. The Hutt crime lord had kept his residence conditioned similarly to this, only Nar Shaddaa was an entire planet rather than one building. These thoughts were broken up by a street vendor shoving a strange exotic fruit in Luke’s face. The Rodian ecstatically spoke in Huttese, attempting to upsell the Jedi on the fruit’s quality. The fruit had a slight pungent odor, and Luke didn’t like the way its tumor-like growths seemed to… move. He politely declined the vendor’s offer before making a few more steps and reaching his destination.
Well… let’s hope he’s in here.
Luke had come to the Hutt-controled ecumenopolis in search of Jedi Master Rahm Kota, a veteran of the Clone Wars and an early founding member of the Rebel Alliance, his personal militia being one of many cells to openly respond to Mon Mothma’s Declaration of Rebellion. He had disappeared some time in the middle of the war with no explanation, but Luke’s sources had all said essentially the same thing, that Kota had lost someone close to him and he lost the will to fight.
The bar reeked of smoke, drink, and general filthy unwashed denizens. Again, Luke’s memories flashed back to Tatooine, or rather, the day he left for the first time. The cantina in Mos Eisley, while not quite as… fragrant, had still carried an ambient aroma similar to this one. Remembering how eventful that visit to a local watering hole had been, the Jedi cautiously kept his hand close to his lightsaber beneath his robe. At the bar, he could see an older human male slumped over. Luke assumed he was passed out but then the man’s hand went up, a single finger raised.
“Barkeep… another”, his gravely voice slurred. Not unconscious, then, but heavily inebriated. Luke’s sources also said that Kota became dependent on drink when depressed, so he immediately knew this was his man.
The bartender, a male Devaronian, had clearly had his fill of Kota already. “No more for you, old man! You keep running up your tab and I know you have no hope of paying! Now get out!” Before Kota could respond, Luke stepped forward and interjected.
“How much does he owe?”
The entire bar fell silent and Luke sensed every head in the establishment turning his way. Kota turned around slowly and scoffed. Luke caught a glance of his glazed eyes and subconsciously gasped, keeping his surprise hidden. None of his sources had mentioned that Kota was blind.
“What are you, a charity?”, the drunken old man gargled, “Kriff off, buddy. I don’t need your help.”
“You can’t help him anyway”, the Devaronian chimed in, glancing at Luke as he polished a glass, “He owes 5,000.”
Luke was stunned. Sure, Kota had been in hiding for a while, but how much drink did one have to imbibe to incur a tab that large? He cleared his throat. “Will you take New Republic credits?”
The Devaronian chuckled. “Big spender, huh? Sure, I take them. New Republic, Imperial, they spend all the same, but I highly doubt that you-” He was interrupted by a massive bag of credits clattering onto the bar in front of him. Luke had been provided with most of the supplies he would need, up to and including a stipend of funds for situations such as these. The alien bartender was stunned but visibly pleased. He took the bag and began vigorously counting, idly glancing at Kota. “Well… guess you’re off the hook, old man.”
“Fine”, Kota grumbled as he drunkenly shoved himself away from the bar, turning around and angrily pointing at Luke, “And you… stay away from me. I didn’t ask for your help and I don’t want it, so stop giving it to me!!” He began storming out but tripped over his own feet and tumbled to the floor, causing the bar to erupt in laughter at his expense. Kota grumbled as he managed to get back on his feet, continuing on his way out. Suddenly, he found himself unable to move. No matter how hard he tried, he was locked in place, as if he was being restrained by… the Force.
Luke stood there, his right arm extended and his prosthetic hand open. It was taking a lot of focus to freeze the drunken Jedi Master, but somehow he was managing it. “I’m not interested in your theatrics, Master Kota”, he began, “I’m here because I need Jedi. And I’m not leaving without you.” Kota scoffed. “What’re you? One of those Imperial Inquisitors? Here to arrest me for the crime of having a midichlorian count above 2? Hate to tell ya, buddy, the Empire’s dead and gone.”
“I’m not with the Empire”, Luke responded, “I’m-” A blaster shot ripped through the air, narrowly missing Luke. He was forced to release Kota and grabbed his lightsaber, the green blade springing to life and illuminating the dimly-lit room. He deflected another blast and reached out with the Force in the direction of the attacker, sending a human male flying across the room and slamming into a wall. The shooter grabbed a comlink and shouted into it. “We have him, move in!!” Suddenly, two squads of Stormtroopers, their armor visibly grimy and unwashed, filed into the bar, blasters raised and ready to fire.
“Freeze, Skywalker!!”, one of them shouted, “By the authority of the Galactic Empire, you’re under arrest! Drop the weapon!”
Luke looked around and realized he would have a difficult time with all of these troopers. On top of that, the collateral damage to both the patrons of the bar and the people outside could be catastrophic. Before he could finish this line of thinking, another green blade whizzed to life from behind the troopers. Screams of pain and random blaster shots soon followed, Luke having to deflect several blasts before leaping into the fray. He cut down two troopers and managed to jump up and swing from the bar’s primary light fixture in order to get the upper hand on several more, seeing that it was Kota who had suddenly come to his aid. The drunken Master was practically mowing through the Imperial troopers like a farmer reaping the fields.
“I guess I owed you one!!”, Kota shouted at Luke over the commotion, “Now we’re even!!” Luke chuckled as he jumped down from the light and stood back to back with Kota. “It’s not over yet!!”
As the two Jedi made short work of the Imperials, the undercover trooper who had fired the first shot anxiously scurried out of the bar, getting some considerable distance away before picking up his comlink. “C-Commander, they… they’re wiping out the men… not just one Jedi, two of them!!”, he exclaimed, out of breath, “Skywalker… he… he’s unstoppable.” The silence on the other end of the channel concerned him. “C-Commander?”
Back inside the bar, it was all over. The entire Imperial force lay dead, lightsaber wounds hissing and steaming. The Jedi deactivated their blades and Kota looked at Luke. “So… what exactly were you offering again?” Before Luke could respond, Kota was flung across the barroom by the Force, Luke bringing his lightsaber back up and turning in the direction the attack had come from. Standing in the open doorway was a slender figure in a full-bodies black robe, a raised hood and a mask obscuring their face.
“Luke Skywalker… I’ve been waiting for this day for years”, their modulated voice warbled. Luke chuckled. “Didn’t know I was famous. Do you want me to sign your cape?” The figure simply reached for their belt, a striking magenta lightsaber blade hissing to life. Luke cocked his head and assumed ready position. “I’ll take that as a no”, he said before the figure charged forward and their blades clashed.
Luke attempted to sweep the attacker’s legs out from under them, but they jumped at just the right moment, vaulting over Luke’s head and landing on their feet on the bar. They made a downward slash, which Luke blocked with an upward swing. This block sent the attacker’s blade up into the light fixture, causing it to crash to the floor. Luke used this as a distraction, using the Force to amplify the small electrical fire that had started at the broken light’s mounting point. The attacker gasped as their vision was temporarily impaired. Luke ran over to Kota and made sure he was still alive before hoisting the unconscious Master onto his shoulder. He bolted for the door, using the Force to throw a table at the mysterious warrior. They regained their bearings just in time to slice the table in half, only to see that their prey was gone.
Luke strapped Kota into the rear seat of the A-Wing he had flown to Nar Shaddaa in. He preferred the X-Wing, but in order to maintain a relatively low profile and also carry a passenger, the old training model A-Wing had been the best bet. He lifted off from the docking bay and immediately opened up the throttle, breaking atmosphere and jumping to lightspeed as soon as the calculations had been made. Once they were away, Luke sat back in his seat and sighed. Whoever that attacker was, they obviously had training. An Inquisitor, maybe?
In orbit of Dathomir, Grand Admiral Thrawn was overlooking his fleet when an officer walked up behind him. “Sir… we’re receiving a message from… the Emperor’s Hand.”
Thrawn’s eyebrow raised. “The Emperor’s Hand… interesting.” The Hand had been Palpatine’s prized pupil, well, apart from Vader; an Inquisitor with more authority than any other member of that order. Thrawn had only met the mysterious dark warrior once, when they were still in training. Even then, Palpatine had been keeping his cryptic protégé’s face hidden. That mask carried with it a similar mystique and intrigue to the mask of Vader.
“Sir?”, the officer spoke again. Thrawn realized he had lapsed into deep thought, snapping out of it. “My apologies, Lieutenant”, the Chiss said politely, “Thank you for informing me.” The officer saluted and then went back to his duties. Thrawn walked to the holo table in the rear of the bridge and pressed a button, opening the primary holochannel. The holographic image of the Emperor’s Hand appeared before him.
“Grand Admiral Thrawn.”
“Inquisitor”, he greeted, “It has been many years. I assumed you had been killed.”
“I do not have permission to die, Admiral”, the Hand responded, “Not when the task given to me by my Emperor has yet to be fulfilled.” Thrawn’s lips narrowed. “Indeed. I take it this is not a diplomatic call, then?”
“I do not intend to argue rank and I will not bow and scrape to gain your favor, Admiral. My goals do not align with yours. I simply request resources. My last Imperial contact met an… unfortunate end, and all of the troopers he relinquished to my command have been… decomissioned. I require more.”
“I see. Perhaps if you come to meet me over Dathomir, we can work out a mutually-beneficial arrangement”, Thrawn proposed, “I am nothing if not reasonable.”
The Hand was silent for a moment before their doubly-modulated voice responded. “Very well. Until then, Grand Admiral Thrawn.”
“Farewell, Inquisitor”, Thrawn responded before ending the transmission.