Crucible: Star Wars

by Troy Denning

  The bartender sighed and shrugged. “This again? I told you when you asked earlier. My eyes are large and red because I’m a Duros. I called you what I did because I’m polite. And I’m polite because I’m not some old moisture farmer, deranged from too many years out in the—”

  “Because,” the white-whiskered man interrupted, “I don’t do business with no droids. Droids are thieves, the lot of them.”

  “Why would a droid steal?”

  “T’give to other droids,” Ulbreck said. He shook his head. The bartender was clearly an idiot.

  “What would—” the bartender started to ask. “Never mind,” he said instead. He reached for a bottle and refilled the old farmer’s glass. “I’m going to stop talking to you now. Drink up.”

  Ulbreck did exactly that.

  To Ulbreck’s mind, there was one thing wrong with the galaxy: people. People and droids. Well, those were two things—but then again, wasn’t it wrong to limit what was wrong with the galaxy to just one thing? How fair was that? That was how the old farmer’s thinking tended to go, even when he was sober. In sixty standard years of moisture farming, Ulbreck had formed one theory about life after another. But he’d spent enough of the early years working alone—odd, how not even his farmhands wanted to be around him—that all his notions had piled up, unspoken.

  That was what visits to town were for: opportunities for Ulbreck to share the wisdom of a lifetime. When he wasn’t getting robbed by diabolical droids pretending to be green bartenders.

  They weren’t supposed to allow droids inside Junix’s Joint—that was what the ancient sign outside the Anchorhead bar said. Junix, whoever he was, was long since dead and buried in the sands of Tatooine, but his bar still stood: a dimly lit dive where the cigarra smoke barely covered the stink of farmers who’d been in the desert all day. Ulbreck seldom visited the place, preferring an oasis establishment closer to home. But having traveled to Anchorhead to chew out a vaporator parts supplier, he’d stopped in to fill his canteen.

  Now, half a dozen lum ales later, Ulbreck began thinking about home. His wife was waiting for him there, and he knew he had better go. Then again, his wife was waiting for him there, and that was reason enough for him to stay. He and Magda had had a horrible fight that morning over whatever it was they’d fought about the night before. Ulbreck couldn’t remember what that was now, and it pleased him.

  Still, he was an important man, with many underlings who would steal him blind if he was away too long. Through a haze, Ulbreck looked to the chrono on the wall. There were numbers there, and some of them were upside down. And dancing. Ulbreck scowled. He was no fan of dancing. Ears buzzing, he slid off the bar stool, intent on giving the digits a piece of his mind.

  That was when the floor attacked him. A swift, scurrilous advance, intent on striking him in the head when he wasn’t looking.

  It would have succeeded, had the hand not caught him.

  “Careful, there,” said the hand’s owner.

  Bleary-eyed, Ulbreck looked up the arm and into the hooded face of his rescuer. Blue eyes looked back at him from beneath sandy-colored eyebrows.

  “I don’t know you,” Ulbreck said.

  “Yes,” the bearded human responded, helping the old farmer back onto the stool. Then he moved a few paces away to get the bartender’s attention.

  The brown-cloaked man had something in his other arm, Ulbreck now saw—a bundle of some kind. Alerted, Ulbreck looked around to see whether his own bundle was missing before remembering that he never had a bundle.

  “This isn’t a nursery,” the bartender told the newcomer, although Ulbreck couldn’t figure out why.

  “I just need some directions,” the hooded man responded.

  Ulbreck knew many directions. He’d lived long enough on Tatooine to visit lots of places, and while he hated most of them and would never go back, he prided himself on knowing the best shortcuts to them. Certain that his directions would be better than those provided by a droid pretending to be a Duros, Ulbreck moved to intervene.

  This time, he caught the railing himself.

  Ulbreck looked back warily at the glass on the bar. “That drink ain’t right,” he said to the bartender. “You’re—you’re …”

  The newcomer interjected cautiously, “You mean to say they’re watering the ale?”

  The bartender looked at the hooded guest and smirked. “Sure, we always add the scarcest thing on Tatooine to our drinks. We rake in the credits that way.”

  “Ain’t what I mean,” Ulbreck said, trying to focus. “You’ve done slipped somethin’ in this drink to put me out. So you can take my money. I know you city types.”

  The bartender shook his bald head and looked behind him to his similarly hairless wife, who was washing up at the sink. “Close it up, Yoona. We’ve been found out.” He looked to the hooded stranger. “We’ve been piling customers’ bodies in the back room for years—but I guess that’s all over now,” he said jokingly.

  “I won’t tell a soul,” the newcomer said, smiling. “In exchange for directions. And a bit of blue milk, if you have it.”

  Ulbreck was puzzling through that exchange when the bartender’s expression changed to one of concern. The old farmer turned to see several young humans entering through the arched doorway, cursing and laughing. Through his haze, Ulbreck recognized the drunken rowdies.

  The two in their twenties were brother and sister Mullen and Veeka Gault, hellion spawn of Ulbreck’s greatest competitor out west, Orrin Gault. And their cronies were here, too. Zedd Grobbo, the big menace who could outlift a loader droid; and, at just a little over half his size, young Jabe Calwell, son of one of Ulbreck’s neighbors.

  “Get that kid out of here,” the bartender yelled when he saw the teenage tagalong. “Like I told the other guy, the day care’s around the block.”

  At the reference, Ulbreck heard catcalls from the young punks—and he noticed his savior turning to face the wall with his bundle, away from the troublemakers. Veeka Gault shoved past Ulbreck and grabbed a bottle from behind the bar. She paid the Duros with an obscene gesture.

  Her fellow hooligans had moved on to a helpless victim: Yoona, the bartender’s wife. Catching the startled Duros woman with a pile of empties on her tray, Zedd spun her around for sport, causing mugs to fly in all directions. One struck the shaggy head of a patron at a nearby table.

  The Wookiee rose to register his towering disapproval. So did Ulbreck, who had disliked several generations of Gaults, and didn’t mind helping to put this generation in its place. He staggered to a table near the group and prepared to raise his objections. But the Wookiee had precedence, and Ulbreck felt the table he was leaning against falling anyway, so he decided to check things out from the floor. He heard a scuffling sound and only vaguely registered the arrival of the bartender’s wife, who scuttled into cover beside him.

  The Wookiee backhanded Zedd, sending him across the room—and into the table of some people Ulbreck was pretty sure were thieves, even though they weren’t droids. He’d eyed the green-skinned, long-snouted Rodians all afternoon and evening, wondering when they’d harass him. He knew henchmen for Jabba the Hutt when he saw them. Now, their table upended, the thugs moved—chairs overturning as they shot to their feet and reached for their guns.

  “No blasters!” Ulbreck heard the bartender yell as customers stampeded for the exit. The call didn’t do a bit of good. Trapped between advancing attackers, the Gaults, who had drawn their pistols when the Wookiee struck their comrade, began firing back at the Rodians. Young Jabe might have fired his weapon, too, Ulbreck saw, had the Wookiee not lifted him from the ground. The titan held the howling boy aloft, about to hurl him into a wall.

  The bearded newcomer knelt beside Ulbreck against the bar and leaned across him toward the bartender’s wife. “Take care of this,” the man said, placing his bundle in her hands. Then he dashed into the fray.

  Ulbreck returned his attention to the bar fight. Above him, the Wookiee threw
Jabe at the wall. But somehow, boy and wall never met; as Ulbreck craned his neck to see, Jabe’s flailing body flew in an unnatural curve through the air and landed behind the bar.

  Stunned, Ulbreck looked to see if Yoona had seen the same thing. But she was frozen in terror, eyes squeezed shut. Then a blaster shot struck the floor near them. She opened her eyes. With a scream, she shoved the bundle into Ulbreck’s hands and crawled away.

  Ulbreck turned his own frightened eyes back to the brawl, expecting to see the Wookiee beating Jabe to a pulp. He saw, instead, the hooded man—holding Jabe’s blaster and pointing it at the ceiling. The man fired once at the lightglobe suspended overhead. A second later, Junix’s Joint was in darkness.

  But not silence. There was the Wookiee’s howl. The blaster shots. The shattered glass. And then there was the strange humming sound, even louder than the one in Ulbreck’s ears. Ulbreck feared to peer around the edge of the table shielding his body. But when he did, he could make out the silhouette of the hooded man, lit by a wash of blue light—and stray blaster bolts of orange, ricocheting harmlessly into the wall. Dark figures advanced—the criminal Rodians?—but they fell away, screaming, as the human advanced.

  Ulbreck slid back behind the table, trembling.

  When quiet finally came, all Ulbreck could hear was a gentle rustling inside the blanket on his lap. Fumbling for the utility light he carried in his pocket, Ulbreck activated it and looked down at the bundle he was holding.

  A tiny baby with a wisp of blond hair gurgled at him.

  “Hello,” Ulbreck said, not knowing what else to say.

  The infant cooed.

  The bearded man appeared at Ulbreck’s side. Lit from below by the portable light, he looked kindly—and not at all fatigued by whatever he had just done. “Thank you,” he said, taking the child back. Starting to rise, he paused. “Excuse me. Do you know the way to the Lars homestead?”

  Ulbreck scratched his beard. “Well, now, there’s four or five ways to get there. Let me think of the best way to describe it—”

  “Never mind,” the man replied. “I’ll find it myself.” He and the child disappeared into the darkness.

  Ulbreck rose now, turning the light onto the room around him.

  There was no-good Mullen Gault, being revived by his no-good sister, as Jabe limped toward the open doorway. Ulbreck could just make out the Wookiee outside, evidently chasing after Zedd. The bartender was in the back, consoling his wife.

  Jabba’s thugs lay dead on the floor.

  The old farmer slumped back down again. What had happened in here? Had the stranger really taken on the toughs alone? Ulbreck didn’t remember seeing him with a weapon. And what about Jabe, who’d seemed to hang in the air before he dropped behind the bar? And what was that blasted flashing blue light?

  Ulbreck shook his aching head, and the room spun a little. No, truth was, he just couldn’t trust his besotted eyes. No one would risk his neck against Jabba’s toughs. And no one would bring a baby to a bar fight. No decent person, anyway. Certainly not some hero type.

  “People are just no good,” Ulbreck said to no one. Then he went to sleep.

  Meditation

  The package is delivered.

  I hope you can read my thoughts, Master Qui-Gon: I haven’t heard your voice since that day on Polis Massa, when Master Yoda told me I could commune with you through the Force. You’ll remember that we decided I should take Anakin’s son to his relatives for safekeeping. That mission is now accomplished.

  It feels so strange, being here, at this place and in this circumstance. Years ago, we removed one child from Tatooine, thinking him to be the galaxy’s greatest hope. Now I have returned one—with the same goal in mind. I hope it goes better this time. Because the path to this moment has been filled with pain. For the whole galaxy, for my friends—and for me.

  I still can’t believe the Jedi Order is gone—and the Republic, corrupted and in the hands of Palpatine. And Anakin, corrupted as well. The holovids I saw of him slaughtering the Jedi younglings in the Temple still haunt my dreams … and shatter my heart into pieces, over and over again.

  But after the horror of children’s deaths, a child may bring hope, as well. It’s as I said: the delivery is made. I’m standing on a ridge with my riding beast—a Tatooine eopie—looking back at the Lars homestead. Owen and Beru Lars are outside, holding the child. The last chapter is finished: a new one has begun.

  I’ll look for a place nearby, though if I hang around too long, I half expect Owen will want me to move someplace else, farther away. There may be wisdom in that. I seem to attract trouble, even in such a remote place as this. There was some mischief yesterday at Anchorhead—and before that, some trouble in one of the spaceports I passed through. None of it was really about me, thankfully, or why I’m here. But I can’t afford to react to things as Obi-Wan Kenobi anymore. I won’t be able to turn on my lightsaber without screaming “Jedi Knight” to everyone around. Even on Tatooine, I expect someone knows what that is!

  So this will be it. From here on out, as long as it takes, I’m minding my own business and staying out of trouble. I can’t play Jedi for this world and help save the other worlds at the same time. Isolation is the answer.

  The city—even a village like Anchorhead—runs at too fast a pace. Out on the periphery, though, should be another story. I can already feel time moving at a different pace—to the rhythm of the desert.

  Yes, I expect things will be slower. I’ll be far from anywhere, and alone, with nothing but my regrets to keep me company.

  If only there were a place to hide from those.

  STAR WARS—The Expanded Universe

  You saw the movies. You watched the cartoon series, or maybe played some of the video games. But did you know …

  In The Empire Strikes Back, Princess Leia Organa said to Han Solo, “I love you.” Han said, “I know.” But did you know that they actually got married? And had three Jedi children: the twins, Jacen and Jaina, and a younger son, Anakin?

  Luke Skywalker was trained as a Jedi by Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda. But did you know that, years later, he went on to revive the Jedi Order and its commitment to defending the galaxy from evil and injustice?

  Obi-Wan said to Luke, “For over a thousand generations, the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic. Before the dark times. Before the Empire.” Did you know that over those millennia, legendary Jedi and infamous Sith Lords were adding their names to the annals of Republic history?

  Yoda explained that the dreaded Sith tend to come in twos: “Always two, there are. No more, no less. A Master, and an apprentice.” But did you know that the Sith didn’t always exist in pairs? That at one time in the ancient Republic there were as many Sith as Jedi, until a Sith Lord named Darth Bane was the lone survivor of a great Sith war and created the “Rule of Two”?

  All this and much, much more is brought to life in the many novels and comics of the Star Wars expanded universe. You’ve seen the movies and watched the cartoon. Now venture out into the wider worlds of Star Wars!

  Turn the page or jump to the timeline of Star Wars novels to learn more.

  Introduction to the OLD REPUBLIC Era

  (5,000–33 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A NEW HOPE)

  Long—long—ago in a galaxy far, far away … some twenty-five thousand years before Luke Skywalker destroyed the first Death Star at the Battle of Yavin in Star Wars: A New Hope … a large number of star systems and species in the center of the galaxy came together to form the Galactic Republic, governed by a Chancellor and a Senate from the capital city-world of Coruscant. As the Republic expanded via the hyperspace lanes, it absorbed new member worlds from newly discovered star systems; it also expanded its military to deal with the hostile civilizations, slavers, pirates, and gangster-species such as the slug-like Hutts that were encountered in the outward exploration. But the most vital defenders of the Republic were the Jedi Knights. Originally a reclusive order dedicated to st
udying the mysteries of the life energy known as the Force, the Jedi became the Republic’s guardians, charged by the Senate with keeping the peace—with wise words if possible; with lightsabers if not.

  But the Jedi weren’t the only Force-users in the galaxy. An ancient civil war had pitted those Jedi who used the Force selflessly against those who allowed themselves to be ruled by their ambitions—which the Jedi warned led to the dark side of the Force. Defeated in that long-ago war, the dark siders fled beyond the galactic frontier, where they built a civilization of their own: the Sith Empire.

  The first great conflict between the Republic and the Sith Empire occurred when two hyperspace explorers stumbled on the Sith worlds, giving the Sith Lord Naga Sadow and his dark side warriors a direct invasion route into the Republic’s central worlds. This war resulted in the first destruction of the Sith Empire—but it was hardly the last. For the next four thousand years, skirmishes between the Republic and Sith grew into wars, with the scales always tilting toward one or the other, and peace never lasting. The galaxy was a place of almost constant strife: Sith armies against Republic armies; Force-using Sith Lords against Jedi Masters and Jedi Knights; and the dreaded nomadic mercenaries called Mandalorians bringing muscle and firepower wherever they stood to gain.

  Then, a thousand years before A New Hope and the Battle of Yavin, the Jedi defeated the Sith at the Battle of Ruusan, decimating the so-called Brotherhood of Darkness that was the heart of the Sith Empire—and most of its power.

  One Sith Lord survived—Darth Bane—and his vision for the Sith differed from that of his predecessors. He instituted a new doctrine: No longer would the followers of the dark side build empires or amass great armies of Force-users. There would be only two Sith at a time: a Master and an apprentice. From that time on, the Sith remained in hiding, biding their time and plotting their revenge, while the rest of the galaxy enjoyed an unprecedented era of peace, so long and strong that the Republic eventually dismantled its standing armies.