Unorthodoxy by Brien Bell

PROLOGUE

Immediately following the events of Shatterpoint

The skies of Pelek Baw were red with flames that had licked the ground of the city. Nick Rostu had never seen such decimation before; the Korunnai had destroyed the camps of Balawai jungle prospectors, burned their steamcrawlers from the inside, had left the brutal remnants of their attacks for all to see. Nick had seen devastation before, but never had it been on such a grand scale. Nick had grown up on the very streets where ground cars now lay burning, their occupants still inside. He had been in houses that now were black, charred ash on the ground of Haruun Kal. He’d eaten at dining establishments while undercover that now smelled of burned flesh and of broiled meat.

Nick recalled his childhood on these streets, an orphan of Korunnai clan on the streets of a Balawai city, looking for meaning and purpose on a world in which he, a native, was considered an outsider. The foreigners, the Balawai, ruled the planet from Pelek Baw, while his people, the Korunnai, lived in the jungles as they always had. While the Balawai looked to work with the jungle to make a profit off of the valuable thyssel bark, the Korunnai bred their grassers to tear away the jungle, to fight against it, in order to make their living on this remote world. The Korunnai made a connection through their hereditary sensitivity to the Force with their fierce akk dogs, who protected the Korunnai from jungle predators.

And the Balawai had always wanted the Korunnai out of the jungle. Off of Haruun Kal.

The Korunnai felt the same way about the Balawai.

Watching from the deck of the Jadthu-class gunship/lander that had begun its ascent, Nick could only help but steer his mind away from the obvious. Steer his thoughts from the darkness of the jungle that was his home for so long. Drive his feelings out of the cold, numbing reality that lay below him in the wasted city of Pelek Baw, and at the base of the pass at the Korun Highlands.

The Korunnai had won and lost in a day.

Beside Nick sat Jedi Master Mace Windu, a general of the Grand Army of the Republic. The very army that Nick had been sworn into during their trek through the jungle. The very Jedi that had defeated the Separatist-supported Balawai and the Republic-funded and trained Korunnai that afternoon in the bunker of the Pelek Baw spaceport. And Nick was no longer just a clanless Korun of Pelek Baw, an outcast of the ghôsh Rostu; Nick was a Major in the Grand Army of the Republic, sworn in by Master Windu himself, and was going to help train the elite soldiers of the Republic. Affirmed by the word of a Jedi Master, no less.

But many others had lost more than Nick had gained. Master Windu possibly the most of all, for he had lost the one person he was closest to. He had lost the person who was his true family, who was like his daughter.

He had lost his former Padawan, Depa Billaba. Lost her to the jungle. Lost her to the darkness.

The darkness that he still felt even as the landing craft made orbit and neared the Republic transport ship. Darkness that tugged at him as that transport made the jump to hyperspace. Unbearable darkness that crept into his sleep during the journey to Coruscant.

He fought the darkness his entire life, and knew well enough that to give in to that darkness would mean losing part of himself, as Kar Vastor had. The Korun warrior had let himself give in to the jungle, let the darkness take him, and he had turned his malevolence against his people and against the people of Pelek Baw. Master Windu has defeated Vastor, but he could not defeat the darkness within, the darkness that seemed to stretch from Vastor’s Upland Liberation Force base in the jungles of Haruun Kal all the way to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, where their transport was ultimately going. Nick could feel it during their long journey to the center of the Republic, and could feel it even stronger as their transport set down on the planet.

A planet that, though thoroughly modern and urbanized than Haruun Kal, was strikingly similar to his home. For here as well the darkness radiated like a glowrod on maximum power, the darkness shining into even the brightest corners of the world.

Nick hated the darkness. He hated what men like Vastor could do with that darkness. He hated what darkness did to people who served the light, like Depa. But most of all he hated the darkness because he could still feel it within him.

As he left the security of the transport vessel, alongside Mace and Colonel Geptun, who had also joined the Republic’s army, Nick realized that he had not really left the jungle. It was still in front of him, with new predators and new dangers that he must face. A jungle larger than anything he had imagined in his life on Haruun Kal.

Beside him, however, a beacon shone through the darkness of this new jungle. Mace Windu radiated a pure power from him, one that was not corrupted by the jungle, one that had touched darkness but had turned away and held fast to the light. Master Windu had made a connection with Nick in the jungle, and through that connection Nick could feel the light and goodness of the two people he stood next to. Sure, Mace was a crazy Korun, one of the craziest men that Nick had ever met for that matter, but Mace had saved him from the jungle. Colonel Geptun, though once a Balawai leader who stood for everything that Nick had fought against during his life, had himself reformed and now stood side-by-side with Mace and Nick. A Korun and a Balawai, walking together as one. This was the effect that Nick had seen during his time with Mace Windu. Mace had taken bitter enemies and had made them allies in arms.

That was the power of the light, the power that drove away the darkness that Nick constantly saw in his dreams and in his reality. The Jedi Temple, which loomed before him, radiated with that same light. Nick only hoped that their light would be enough to drive out the darkness that seemed to be all around him.

The heart of the darkness sat alone that day in his lofty throne. Among the deserted industrial regions of Coruscant, which had been abandoned untold eons ago by the thousands of corporations that called Coruscant home, a single giant tower stood aloft among the ruined buildings and warehouses. Believed abandoned for a thousand years, this factory now served a far more nefarious purpose than anyone on the capital planet would ever believe.

For it was here that the Sith, the mortal enemies of the Jedi Order, resided in the belly of the beast that was the Republic.

The main processing area for what had once been a droid manufacturing plant had been transformed into a makeshift operations center and command structure. At the center of this structure was a platform elevated by repulsorlifts, with steps leading to the throne that sat atop this formerly grand industrial complex’s center. The throne was surrounded by windows that opened out to the darkened skies of the Core world, allowing its occupant to view the magnificence of the planet’s landscape, its glorious skyscrapers in the distance, and the glittering starlight in which billions of systems and thousands of planets lay, waiting, only an arm’s reach away...

At the bottom of the repulsor field platform, a lift tube settled and brought forth a shadowed figure from the lower levels of the structure; the docking bay, the master of the complex assumed. The shrouded figure made his way through the main control center where several droids busily decoded information or tagged headlines from the infonet and holonet sources. Slowing only momentarily at the bottom of the stairs, the figure made his way to the precipice toward his master.

Ascending the stairs, the Sith knelt before the throne which currently faced outward toward Galactic City and the lights of the world’s political and commercial hub. Removing his cloak’s hood, Count Dooku of Serenno waited patiently for his master’s attention. Only the enigmatic figure that he prostrated himself before knew of the former Jedi’s other alias: Darth Tyranus, apprentice to the Dark Lord of the Sith.

Servant of Darth Sidious.

“What is thy bidding, my Master?” the former Jedi Master asked, breaking the silence between the two Dark Lords.

The throne slowly rotated around, revealing at least the visage of Darth Sidious, the mysterious Dark Lord of the Sith. Tyranus could not see beneath the cowl of his master’s cloak, though he knew the face well. The wrinkles of age and the toll of the dark side were vaguely visible through the shadows of the room, and seemed to become deeper with each day that this powerful man lived. Dooku himself did not know exactly how old his Master really was; it was easily possible that Master Sidious was more ancient than he himself was.

Sidious stood from his obsidian throne, and motioned for his apprentice to rise. “What are the reports from the lines, my friend?” the decrepit Dark Lord asked.

“The war goes well, my Lord,” Dooku replied, rising to stand before his Master. The former Count of Serenno stood a good head taller than his Master, and his overall figure was more impressive. By comparison, one could easily overlook the diminutive stature of Darth Sidious, should one not realize the true power of this master of the dark side. Dooku himself felt quite small in the presence of this Sith Lord’s superior power. “The Republic has gained several minor victories, though our reports inform us that they have kept a defensive posture in the majority of their holdings. Only this week did a major turn develop.”

Sensing that his apprentice wished to continue along these lines, Sidious nodded for him to relate these events. “As you know, Master Windu returned from his mission to Haruun Kal with his former Padawan. His travels also brought a man known as Kar Vastor, who worked beside Master Billaba during her time with the natives of the planet. Like all the Korunnai of the planet, Vastor possessed sensitivity to the Force. Windu’s reports indicate that he was a disciple of the dark side.”

Sidious stopped him for a moment to gaze at the skyline in the distance. “Yes, I know this. I have felt his power for some time.” Sidious turned and shot an icy gaze at his own student. “I have also known that his power is a possible threat to our own.”

Darth Tyranus hesitated briefly, the dark power in his Master’s words striking him. “He is being held within the Jedi Temple and faces trial for crimes against civilization. He is no longer a great threat to us.” Sidious just continued to stare into the vast expanse, his dark gaze reaching beyond the gravity of Coruscant, seemingly stretching to all corners of the galaxy, known or otherwise.

“The greater issue, my Lord, is that of the Korunnai population at large. The original ancestors of the current population are believed to have been fallen Jedi Knights; as such, their descendants—all of their descendants—are imbued with Force-sensitivity.”

His Master no doubt already knew this, but allowed his servant to keep speaking. He felt that there was a deliberate reason for his disciple to be taking his time with this issue. And Tyranus was appreciative of the respect that his master attributed him. “To the point, my Master. These Korunnai seem to have a natural sense for the dark side. Vastor was an extreme case, but there are many others who have drifted away from the light. Perhaps we may be the ones to snuff that light completely?”

With his final query, Dooku activated his remote comlink, which—combined with a nudge of the Force—brought from the command center a probe droid with a mobile holoprojector. Catching his master’s attention, the Dark Jedi activated the viewer, giving his Master a glance at his prize: within the confines of Tyranus’ personal starship, three dark-skinned males lay immobilized on the floor, restrained by devices similar to those that the newest Sith apprentice had used to detain the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi months earlier on Geonosis.

A dark smile appeared on his Master’s face. The wrinkles of his mouth curved up in an eerie sign of appreciation that still sent shivers down the old Dark Lord’s spine.

“Your gift is most appreciated, Lord Tyranus,” Darth Sidious vocalized, drawing closer to the hologram of the three young Korun men. “In time, they will make wonderful dark acolytes. But now you must return to your primary responsibilities, as I must to my own.” Sidious returned slowly to his throne, accessing a communications port on the armrest. A low cackle grew in his voice as he faced his apprentice again. “Everything is proceeding as I have foreseen...”

And that cackle turned into a laugh, a darker laugh than the galaxy had ever known before.

[ Prologue | Part 1 (coming soon) ]

Submitted June 23, 2003. © Brien Bell 2003.

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