Star Wars-Lost Jedi
by: Lowell Steele IV


Disclaimer. I am not George Lucas (nor to I want to be) and therefore all trademarks and characters owned by him do not belong to me. This story is for fun, so read it, and I am not getting any money from this. Enjoy.


There were eight of them huddled around the heat lamp that glowed on the dusty floor. Their sanctuary was a relic of a shuttle bay, long since rendered useless, buried beneath the layers of Coruscant. The only constellations were that spelled the name of forbidden shops and desires. But it was the darkness that everyone descended for.

They all came to hide.

The place still stunk of oil, along with other things that shouldn't be identified. But yet they sat there, huddled in warm embraces that had long since been lost to their kind. They were Jedi Knights, one time defenders and peacemakers of the Old Republic and now fugitives of the infamous Galactic Empire.

Jasmine Novascott held her young infant close to her, soothing him through the Force. She didn't know if it was day or night, but the air there was damp and cool, and she worried about sickness. She knew that Onith, the Talz Jedi that was with them, was a masterful healer. She looked over at the tall being with his round eyes and white fur. He looked more like a child's giant stuffed toy than a Jedi, but she knew he was more than competent. She tried to hide her fear as best she could, holding her secrets as close to her as her child. She knew each of them there had their own secrets, but none like hers. 
None like her child's.

Onith squealed something to her in his native tongue, or lack thereof, but she got the gist of it. Are you all right? She smiled as he sat beside her, resting a huge paw on her shoulder and gently patting the baby's cheek. He muttered something else. "His name?" she questioned, getting a nod from him. "I gave him his father's name-" She was ready to continue when the argument broke out.

"I don't see why we are hiding like womp rats?" Aka Tonne demanded, bringing the old argument back to light. He was a Corellian, with dark black hair and beard, and he wore a fine hooded cloak that showed his fortune even in the dark years of the Purge. It was the argument they all had heard during the descention into Coruscant. His blue eyes burned with recklessness as he stood to state his case with furious gusto. "We are the Jedi, with the power of the Force behind our might. Why do we hide from this Vader as if we are children? He's not a God. He's made of flesh and blood, and can die by a lightsaber just as easily as those he slays. He's Palpatine's little pet, and the Emperor himself is a crippled fool-"

"Hush now, Tonne," Master Jorriex said in his low hushed voice. It was all that was needed to silence the young man. Jorriex was the one who led the ragtag team. He sat cross-legged on the floor, his Jedi robe huge and wrinkled over his rail-thin form. His face was a kindly one, wrinkled with giant bushy white eyebrows and pale eyes that were now more gray than blue. "Don't speak of things that you do not understand. You judge Palpatine by what he appears to be, what he wants you to believe. Look at me. I'm a frail old man who can see more clearly with the Force than my own eyes. And yet you all know of the power of which I yield."
"Sithspawn," Tonne cursed angrily. He started to back away. "I'm done with you all."

He turned and disappeared into the shadows. Shash'ma, the Twi'lek Jedi, began to rise, but Jorriex held his hand up to stop her. "Let him go. He needs to gain control or he will self-destruct."

"And what if he betrays us?" Shash'ma demanded softly, her white lekku (headtails) flicking with agitation.

"He's a Jedi. He won't."

Jasmine released the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She didn't trust or like Aka Tonne. He was known for war crimes during the Clone Wars. He was on trial by the council when the Purge came about. He was a rich, arrogant fool that hid his smugness behind his luxurious Jedi robes. Even the handle of his lightsaber was decorated with gems of various kinds, a small fortune in itself. It was a shame that such a noble weapon had been used for such infamous acts. She had heard tales of Tonne for a long time. He had slaughtered the families of noted leaders of the Separatists. His brother had been a Jedi too, one that had become one with the Force during the Battle of Geneosis. It was what had driven him into doing his deeds. He had his evils, and they were no secret, but they didn't amount to her own.

Then there was Master Jorriex, an ancient Jedi in his own who had served for ninety-eight years. He had turned down positions on the Jedi Council several times, preferring to work in the field. He refused to give-up his work, and it had cost him the life of his Padawan. His power in the Force was great, but his body couldn't keep up with it. He hadn't been fast enough to stop all the shots. 

There were also the others. Onith was old and the smaller set of his four eyes was blind. He had seen so much during the years of war and conflict that they didn't need to actually see. The past replayed constantly in those eyes, every patient who never made it dying over and over in them. And a doctor had only himself to blame, even if there wasn't anything they could do. There always could have been something in their eyes, and Onith had four of them. Shash'ma was still young, only seventeen in standard years, and was still a Padawan when the purge came. She watched her brethren fall all around her, and she hardly uttered a word anymore.

There was also Xerxes Poof, the younger brother of the famous council member Yarael Poof who had died before the Clone War. He was a Quermain, with a long neck and four stick-thin arms. He had been a great hero during the Clone Wars, and he was shooting for his own chance for the council when the purge ruined his probability. He lost an arm in the flee from the Jedi Temple during the raid, and wrestled with his own emotions. He had a war going on in his head. The final Jedi with them was Derek Istar, a man who looked as evil as he was. His skin was tattooed with a Nar Shaddaa war tattoo that constantly moved across his skin in designs. The Ankas-ink had bled into his system, turning his eyes bloodshot and his hair fell out. He had left the Jedi for a while, choosing the life as a bounty hunter, then the Purge forced him into the same lot as the rest of them. He'd rather take his chances with his former allies than his new enemies. The dark side flowed off of him in noxious waves.

But none of their secrets were as bad as hers. Not even Istar’s.

Jasmine Novascott was jutted awake as Onith's huge paw scooped her up and pulled both her and the child behind the cover of a rusted speeder. He muttered something in his squeaking tone, and then put his finger to his face imitating the human sign for silence. Jasmine felt the fear blossom within her. Something was wrong and she felt it in her very bones. The dark side was swarming the room with a familiar presence. There were screams coming from the other room, the screams of her kinsmen.

Vader stood there, holding the severed head of Tonne in one gloved fist and his crimson lightsaber in the other. His dark mask was completely cold and impassionate as he stared down those he was about to kill. He tossed the head to the others. It rolling through the dust and grime until resting at their feet. His eyes were frozen in horror like rich gems.
Xerxes threw his robe aside with one hand and drew his two lightsabers with the other, the gold blades crossing before him. His face contorted with anger. Istar produced his scarlet blade, laughing softly to himself at the sight of Tonne. Shash'ma held her lightsaber but hadn't ignited it. She stood as bodyguard over Jorriex, who could barely stand himself. Spending the night in this damp room had wreaked havoc with his system. There were no need for insults or comments; everyone's story was spoken through their eyes, except Vader. His was hidden behind a lifeless shell. He had destroyed and betrayed his own life. 
Xerxes and Istar launched the assault, charging towards Vader with an impressive display of agility. Vader's blade came up to block Xerxe's two blades and forced them to move to block Istar's own. With every attack that they threw at him, Vader was one step ahead of them. He fought calmly, while they had the rage tearing them into action. That was why Xerxes never saw Tonne’s head roll underfoot with Vader’s command, and his balance faltered for the briefest of moments. Then Xerxes screamed as Vader's blade bit through another of his arms (taken by the very same blade that had severed his other), and then Vader ducked as Istar's blade arched by, taking off Xerxes's screaming head. His body collapse, one of the lightsabers clicking off, the other rolling into a corner. Istar stood stunned for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Vader waited patiently.

"You are of the dark side, Istar. You slay Jedi like I do. Join me."

"No," Istar muttered. "I have tasted the dark side, and it is as much poison as the ink that runs through my veins."

"Then die."

Vader lurched forward forcing Istar back blow after blow until he felt a sharp pain in his back as he hit an old shuttle. The pain made him spasm as he pulled his shoulder off the shard of rusted metal, his lightsaber following by side just long enough for Vader to move in.

Suddenly, Shash'ma was between him and Vader, her blue lightsaber holding back Vader's killing blow. They stood there for a second, before Vader called Xerxes's lightsabers to him, their blades flying like daggers at Shash'ma. She batted one away, but the other ran her right through the stomach before it clicked off. She uttered something, blood staining her tongue and speech, and fell to her knees. Istar screamed and went to her defense, only to receive Vader's boot across his cheek. His own lightsaber disappeared into the darkness. Vader grabbed his throat, lifting him easily off the deck. "You had your chance. And you proved your weakness"

The room echoed with the crack, then Vader cast the man's body aside. He went to slay Shash'ma when he looked up in time to see a speeder smash into him and throw him clear across the room. He hit the wall with a thunderous smack, but rose again. His cape flapped about him as if he were stuck in a whirlwind. Jorriex stood there, his own body hovering above the ground. Vader took step after step towards him, despite the crashing winds.

"You’re weak, Old Man. You are no match for the power of the Dark side."

He pointed at the man. The speeder floated off the ground and shot at Jorriex. He was sweating and his breath was already a ragged wheeze, but Jorriex stopped it right before it hit him. Vader closed his fist, and the speeder began to smash around him. With a final scream, Jorriex's own power gave out and he found himself engulfed in the grinding metal. Then Vader smashed the junk down, ending the man's pathetic life. Shash'ma slowly rose, her eyes angry. She held her stomach in one hand, as if she was holding in her guts.

"You're a monster, Vader. You kill your own and I will kill you or die trying."

Vader never even recalled his lightsaber as she charged, but sidestepped her blade, caught her face in his thick glove, and cracked her neck in one swift move. Her eyes were wide and lifeless as she collapsed, her story lost forever. He recalled his lightsaber and started towards the others. These fools had rushed to their own death, yet his goal was someone else. He tossed the last speeder aside with his telekinesis, revealing Novascott and Onith. The Talz pushed Jasmine behind him, drawing his own lightsaber and squealing. Vader ignited his own, but Onith wasn't a swordsmen. His death was quick, ending the torment he felt inside. Finally, Vader stood before Novascott, a mere wraith of a man. She was crying, holding her child close to her. Her words were nonsense.

"Anakin, Anakin don't. I love you. I know you're in there somewhere."

"Anakin is dead."

Her tears stopped, and she threw the baby blanket aside, revealing a hidden blaster rifle. Vader started for the merest of moments, surprised for the first time there. She opened fire, but despite his surprise, Vader easily blocked all of her shots. Then she drew her own violet blade and attacked. Her attack was angry and sudden, and Vader only blocked them, never taken the offensive. But the anger grew within him and without even thinking of doing so, he ran her right through the stomach. The room fell silent for a moment, as Jasmine’s eyes went big. They began to tear, as she fell to the floor, crying not in pain but in loss. The copper taste of blood filled her mouth. She began to crawl back, but saw that Vader didn't continue the attack. He just stared down at her, the cold mask not showing the pain he felt inside. She would never see the pain and war behind the mask.

"You're right. Anakin is dead," Jasmine uttered softly, turning off her lightsaber and shoved the nozzle of the blaster rifle in the handle. Vader took a step to stop her, but it was too late. The shot clipped the gem and the lightsaber exploded, killing Jasmine instantly.

I miss you, Anakin. At least my secret is safe.

Vader rose from the debris, studying the aftermath. He felt regret deep inside, under the machinery of both material and spirit. Everyone he had ever loved was gone. His mother, Padme, and now Jasmine. He was ready to leave when a slight disturbance in the Force caught his attention. He reached out with his telekinesis and ripped open the trunk of the speeder, and there laid a baby boy, blue eyes tearing for his dead mother. Jasmine had been soothing him with the Force, keeping him quiet, and now the connection was broken.

Vader scooped up the infant gently in his gloved hands, more gently than anything else those gloves would ever touch. He knew the baby, named after its father.
Its name was Anakin.

THE END?