Chapter 6- "That Wizard's Just A Crazy Old Man"
The room was dead silent. Calen remained rooted to the spot. From what little peripheral vision he had from looking down, he could see that Ordos wasn’t moving, either. The room was still filled with hushed, excited whispers.
“If you will not reveal yourself, then I shall have to reveal you, Calen.” The man in white spoke again after a long pause. “Come along now. What would your father think of his son acting like a coward?” Calen knew exactly what Thaddeus Darkhaven would have thought, and it was exactly the wrong button to press for him. But, even so, he held fast.
“Look up.”
It had been in his head. There was no echo, no distortion. In his mind, he’d heard it, clear as a bell. The man in white, speaking to him...through...his mind?!
“He’s there!” Someone shouted, and Calen realized that it was once more Tin Daheel’s voice, and it was aloud.
“Ah, space-winds!” Ordos yelled as he threw off his cloak, drawing from his sleeve a mundane durasteel knife. “At my back, kid!” Calen was quick to obey, throwing his own cloak aside to regain full visibility. Every eye in the room was upon them, Calen beginning to feel his skin crawl.
“No one here is going to harm you.” The man in white said. Indeed, it seemed like no one was making a move towards them. They all seemed disturbingly rather calm about the situation.
“Great. Then hand over the Twi'lek and we’ll be on our way. No harm, no foul.” Ordos said.
“You know well that I cannot allow violence in this holy place.” The man said.
“We came for him. We’ve got no beef with you.” Ordos stressed again.
“You are an agent of our discord, Maddox Ordos.” The man said. “What would your Caius think of you, behaving like this?”
“Shut up.” Ordos’ voice actually cracked with emotion.
“No more than when you went after Kadamos-”
“Shut. Up!”
“-and what happened to your son, the two of you-”
“I SAID SHUT UP!” Ordos’ howl that could have burst forth into space itself, his hand turned as he threw his knife, aiming directly for the forehead of the man in white. Calen watched and, almost certain he had not blinked, in one instance the knife was flying from Ordos’ hand and in the next it was firmly between the index finger and thumb of the man in white, its blade not having pierced its skin.
“Your weapons will not harm me.” The man said, dropping the knife. “You speak now to the Grand Perceptor. And for you, Maddox Ordos, there is no future on the path that you walk. Come. Join us. Join us on the Path to Perception!”
“Sounds like a bunch of Jedi mumbo jumbo to me.” Calen said, giving a pointed look at the man, trying to look a bit more confident than he felt.
“Nonsense coming from the soldier who ran away.” The Grand Perceptor, Ijo Critus, shot back, his eyes piercing as much as the dagger he had just dropped. “You speak from fear and want of a path, my child. Soon, you will no longer know fear...or want. Only the joys of Perception!”
“I came here to avenge my Captain.” Calen said. “And I’m not helping some crazy holy man on some kind of crusade!”
“You shall aid us, Calen Darkhaven. It has been foretold to me.” Critus said.
“I must have missed the memo.” Calen shot back.
“Born of the bright center of this universe, you shall bring its light to the cosmos.” The man in the white robes said. “It is inevit-” The words were cut off, however, by the sound of several safeties being clicked off on blasters. Calen turned on the spot, seeing that several Imperial Stormtroopers had found their way into temple hall. The gray-robed Brothers and Sisters and the black-robed initiates were giving them a wide berth. “What is the meaning of this?!”
“We have our orders from Moff Ayro.” There was something about the trooper’s voice that Calen couldn’t place, even through the distortion. It was...familiar, but he couldn’t figure out where from. “These two men are to be taken into custody.”
“This is unacceptable!” Critus began, but the Stormtroopers did not move, one even coming and grabbing Calen by his arm. He looked over, seeing one had done the same to Ordos.
“I’m sorry, sir. But those are our orders.” The trooper securing Ordos replied. Critus sighed and relented, waving them off. “Come with me, traitor scum!” Calen was surprised to hear that directed at...Ordos, not him.
“I’m sorry, Ordos.” Calen said, his mind reeling with all the potential negatives they were about to endure. They would be imprisoned, like tortured and killed...or worse, knowing some of the stories he’d heard about Imperial interrogation techniques. Knowing that they were for the glory and security of the Emperor didn’t hold nearly as much of a comforting feeling when you knew they were about to be used on you.
“I’m sorry, too, Calen.” Ordos said, yet he had a strange air of confidence about him. He didn’t seem at all taken in by the horrors they would no doubt soon face. Then, Calen realized it. He had a plan. This plan came to fruition just before they would have been led, at blasterpoint, out of the temple. At the barrier, Ordos suddenly elbowed the one escorting him and snatched his blaster from his grip, firing a blast into Calen’s guard’s chest and sending both the trooper and his prisoner to the ground.
“MOVE!” Ordos yelled, firing a few more shots. Calen quickly rolled against the ground, snatching up the fallen blaster from his guard and ducked behind a pillar, firing a few shots to keep the troopers he could see off-balance. He checked his flanks, looking for an opening, an escape route. Or, at least, some tactical advantage. Another trooper came around and Calen fired a shot his way for his trouble, forcing him to give ground back.
“Drop your weapons! Now!” Another trooper called. Another laser blast was the response, and a howl of pain...from a Twi’lek. Calen dared a glance from behind cover to see Tin Daheel clutching his arm and falling toward the floor.
“NEXT ONE WON’T MISS, YOU RA-!” Ordos yelled out, and was unceremoniously cut off as there was the worp sound of a blaster’s stun.
“Ordos! Hang on!” Calen yelled out as he moved to assist the falling, older man. Before he could reach him, however, Calen felt every nerve in his body explode in pain following yet another worp noise. The stun setting of a blaster...definitely not a feeling he’d ever wanted to feel. His consciousness fading quickly, he didn’t even have time to change direction as he fell smack onto the cold, stone floor...and knew no more.
When his consciousness stirred once more, the first thing Calen felt was a breeze blowing across his face. It felt...like actual wind. Not generated by a ship’s artificial environment. His eyes opened and he saw a white, blazing sun overhead. His hand came up to block it’s rays and his vision swam with the light before he finally managed to sit himself up and focused. Above him, below the punishing light, were the branches of trees, verdant and fruitful with many leaves. Looking lower, he saw colorful flora and even a few animals moving through the brush.
‘Where am I?’ He thought, his eyes moving around what looked to be a beautiful, tranquil clearing. There was no sign of any other beings of sapience, human or otherwise. Just him, sitting alone in that small glade.
“Come, Calen…” The voice was light on the wind. Had he not been taking in everything with the utmost care, he likely would not have heard it at all. “Just this way…” The voice called him down the path, and he felt compelled to follow it. Rising to his feet, he moved forward, toward the source of the voice. Soon, he came to a declining hill, and below he could see a grand table had been set out. It reminded him of the banquets that he’d inevitably been dragged along to that his mother and father would either host or were guests at. Such was expected of the noble house of Darkhaven.
There were many chairs and within them, Calen could see their faces: the people he had known. Ordos was there, Captain Montgomery, too. Burke and Santo each had a seat, as did, to his surprise, his mother and father. They were both smiling at him.
“Welcome, my child.” At the head of the table, holding a goblet between his gnarled fingers, was Ijo Critus. “Please. Sit.”
“What is this?” Calen asked.
“A vision of what will come to be.” Critus told him, setting his goblet down upon the table. “When we have all Ascended, Calen, the petty concerns of this existence will be washed away. And-”
“No, no, no. I mean, how are you doing this?” Calen asked. “How did I get here?”
“There are many gifts afforded to those on the Path of Ascension, Calen.” Critus said. “When you learn to focus your own Path, you will do this as well.”
“...okay, you keep talking, but all I hear is crazy.” Calen said, staring blankly at the man.
“It is better, Calen.” The voice was his father’s, but the man had a warmth in his tone that Calen was certain Thaddeus Darkhaven was not capable of possessing. “Listen to him.”
“This isn’t real-” Calen said. Then it hit him. “I’m still asleep. Or...knocked out.”
“Nothing here is real, Calen.” Critus said. “Except for you...and I. As I said, this is a vision.” Before Calen appeared a goblet just like that of Critus. “Drink. All will become clear once you have done so.” Calen looked down into the murky depths of the sanguine liquid.
“...what is it?” Calen asked.
“Drink.” Critus said. Calen felt himself compelled to do so. Whether his choice or not, his hand was rising to bring the brim of the cup to his lips, the liquid pouring into them from it...and Calen immediately spitting it back out the moment he realized what he was drinking. Blood. From the feeling of sharp pain in his chest and the sudden red stain that had erupted in his shirt (the Gamorrean wound re-opened), he realized that it was his blood.
“You have passed the test of Purity.” Critus said. “You do have the Light…”
“You’re a psychopath!” Calen snapped, throwing the goblet at the man and wiping his lip on his sleeve, spitting out several times into the grass. As he did so, he realized that the others at the table had been replaced. Instead of the smiling faces of those he had known, Calen saw corpses. Their skins bloated and distended, their flesh torn, maimed, and rotting, and any exposed bones charred black. The food, too, had become rotted and unpleasant-looking, the decanters of liquid having burst and their contents flowing across the table and onto the forest floor below - all of it blood.“What the-?!” Calen fell back, his eyes wide and his pulse quickening at the sight. His eyes flitted back to Critus, still sitting on his throne. Behind the man was a dark shape. Calen could tell that it was distinctly feminine, but could tell nothing else about the humanoid. From the look of her, if he hadn’t known better, her body seemed to be composed of the very stars themselves.
“What? What?!” Calen asked.
“The Dark Lady approves of you. She will aid in your Ascension.” Critus told him.
“Hard pass.” He started backing away.
“You shall soon see, Calen. She has foretold it to me. It is inevitable.” Critus said. Calen saw the shape of this Dark Lady begin to move towards him. “Just accept it, Calen. Let her open the Path for you…”
He jolted awake, finding his arms to be achingly sore and restrained. Looking down, the first thing that he noticed was that he wasn’t profusely bleeding from his chest, which he took as a good sign. The second thing he noticed was that he was no longer in his own clothing, but in a blue-silver jumpsuit with a series of numbers printed on where the breastpocket might be. The second thing he noticed was that he was no longer in the Grand Cathedral...which he was finding less and less reason to complain about until he noticed the third thing. The third thing was that he was staring at the off-gray walls of the inside of an Imperial holding cell.
He was still unable to move, his arms in stocks.
“Oh, good. The runaway’s up.” Calen heard the voice from the open door of the cell, seeing a Stormtrooper standing there, glancing at him. “Thought you were dead, newbie. I was gonna use the incinerator on you when we got there.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Calen muttered, “asshole.”
“And here I was about to let you get your bearings before I cut you loose.” The trooper pressed a button and Calen suddenly felt gravity take hold as he fell smack into the floor. “Ooooh! That’s gonna hurt in the mornin’!” Calen groaned. “Well, don’t get too comfortable, precious. Where you’re going, nobody gets the high life.”
“Where are we going?” Calen asked, moving to get himself back to his feet, ignoring the aching in his body.
“You’ll find out.” The trooper’s vocalizer didn’t faze out a sinister edge to his tone, almost gleeful.
“Tell me!” Calen said, staggering toward the door.
“It’s almost too cruel to say…”
“Tell me!” Calen said again, making his way to the opening...and receiving a shock from the force field for his trouble, sending him falling back into the room.
The trooper laughed. “Don’t worry. Traitors like you get the very best of treatment.” The door snapped shut just as Calen managed to rise again.
“They’re all like that there, too.” Calen jumped, hearing the voice.
“H-Hello?” Calen asked, looking around for the source of the voice.
“The vent under the bedding, genius!” Calen’s head whipped around to the small cot, looking under it to find a vent that was no bigger than his hand.
“Hello?” Calen asked.
“Yeah, there are other people too, sunshine. It’s an Imperial prison transport.” The voice said. Calen grimaced at the rudeness. “What are you in for, New Meat?”
“Nothing. I’m innocent. Mostly.” Calen said.
“Oh, everyone’s innocent. I’m innocent, too. Believe me.” The voice said, the tone dripping with sarcasm. “Really, what’d they get you for?”
“Well, there was this firefight with the Grand Perceptor of Pergitor I was sort of involved in.” Calen said.
“...that’s hardcore. Unless you’re trying to sell some Bantha poodoo.”
“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” Calen asked. “We’re going to the same place.”
“Doesn’t have to be that way.” The voice said.
“What do you mean?”
“Couple of my buddies are gonna flip the tables.” It seemed a little too good to be true. “There’s six of us and only three of them. You in or out, New Meat?” He weighed the options over in his head. “Time’s a factor, no pressure!”
“Fine.” Calen said. “I’m in. What do I have to do?”
“Just sit tight. When the doors open, get ready to fight.”
“Alright.” Calen said. And wait he did. Once he couldn’t just sit there, he started counting the seconds. By the time he’d counted to around nine hundred, he began to tap his foot against the floor. He’d gotten to just shy of two thousand, two hundred and eighty when the ship jolted with an impact and the alarm klaxon began to blare. To Calen’s surprise, the door slid upward into the fall and he approached it, feeling with a hand to see that the force field was not active, and then stepping out into the corridor. The red alarm lights flashed and the klaxons blared.
“Prisoner containment is breached!” The trooper who had taunted him earlier moved forward, raising an arm to bring and elbow down against Calen. Moving quickly, Calen rammed a kick into the trooper’s side. While the armor saw it doing more damage to him than to his target, Calen was able to throw the man off-balance and send him slamming into the opposite wall and then the floor. Giving a kick to knock the trooper back again, Calen went for the blaster. Without checking the setting, he fired at the second trooper coming down the way. The white-armored figure soared backwards and slammed into the far way.
“Damn, not bad, New Meat.” Calen turned, hearing the voice from the vent. It apparently belonged to a tan-skinned humanoid being a smooth, T-shaped head it reminded him of an Ithorian, though not as pronounced, the skull was closer to human than the massive size of that race’s. “What’s the matter? Never seen a Abednedo before?”
“I...guess not.” Calen said. “I’m Ca-”
“One-Nine-Seven-Seven.” The Abednedo cut him off.
“...what?” Calen stared at him.
“Trust me. Better until we get out of here that we don’t use names. Go by prisoner number.” Calen looked at the Abenedo’s suit, identical to his own save for the numbers stamped across the breast.
“One-Nine-Eight-Zero.” Calen said.
“How ‘bout you go by Seven and I’ll go by Nine. Fair?” The newly-dubbed Nine asked. Calen nodded. “Good, now, c’mon. We have about thirty seconds before the pilot realizes that something’s up and hits that distress signal. If he hasn’t already.”
“Let’s move.” Calen said. “Where are the others?”
“Oh, there aren’t any.” Nine said nonchalantly.
“...what?” Calen blinked.
“Hey, you’re standing and they’re not. What more do you want?” Nine said as he knelt down and took the blaster from the other fallen trooper. “C’mon, quick. Move, move.” Calen quickly followed the humanoid from the corridor and up toward the bow of the transport. The ship was rocked once again by a hit.
“Friends of yours?” Calen asked.
“Yep.” Nine nodded, moving into the cockpit and immediately firing on the first of two officers before they could react, sending the man slumping over the control. The second turned, returning fire with his own sidepiece and causing Nine to back up.
“I thought you said there were only three!” Calen barked in reply, taking a shot that sent another control panel up in smoke.
“Miscounted. I was being hauled on half-unconscious at the time!” Nine said, ducking back around and taking another shot at their target. A yell was heard, and a peering around the corner revealed that the man had fallen over onto the floor and was still. Nine ran over to the terminal and (after pulling the pilot slumped over it onto the floor) began to work through its interface. “C’mon, c’mon…” Calen’s head turned at the sound of the sensors going haywire.
“Uh...we’ve got a Jolian freighter outside.” Calen said.
“That’d be my friends.” Nine said, still scrolling through the terminal. “Transmit a message on frequency Kay-Six-Seven-Five-Five-Three-Omega-One. Tell them we have control of the ship and we’ll be getting out through the pods.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Calen said, doing so from the communications interface. “But there’s a few more blips showing up on the radar. Imperial signatures.”
“Damn, I thought we’d have more time!” Nine said, scrolling through frantically before finally giving a loud proclamation of “Ah-ha!” and accessing a file. From his peripheral, Calen noticed that the images that came up were very familiar to him.
“...is that a starmap?” Calen asked.
“Piece of one. Can’t talk about it.” Nine said, pulling a datacard from the terminal. “Got it. So, you ready to get out of here?”
“Yeah, let’s go.” Calen said, nodding. “...how do we do that?”
“Escape pods. They’ll tractor beam us in.” Calen blinked. “The Empire’s closing in, and I really don’t feel like getting locked up in Gesaril. Or worse. You in or out, Seven?”
“Fine. Let’s go.” Calen said, following Nine toward the open doorways of the escape pods. Nine had gotten in and, the moment he had, there was the sound of blaster fire as its control panel exploded in fire. Calen dropped back, watching as the door sealed up. “Hey, what?!” Calen got up just in time to see the pod ejecting, a worried Nine staring back at him and getting further and further away in the vacuum of space. “Hey! What the-?!”
“Should have checked me!” Calen turned around and received the exquisite joy of all his nerves screaming at him at once as he collapsed to the ground at the cue of the force of a stun blast hitting him square in the gut. The last sight meeting his eyes was the crumbled form of the Imperial pilot rising with a blaster in hand, and the last words that met his ears before unconsciousness took him once more being clear as a bell.
“Rebel scum…”
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