Our ship shuddered a little as its landing gear locked into place, the hydraulic hiss of the ramp lowering, getting drowned out by the loud screech of TIE Defenders banking sharply overhead of us. Their engines didn’t scream like standard TIEs—they were more resonant and roared loudly, giving out a deep, throaty whine that vibrated through the ship's plating. I rembered that sound very well from my childhood. It was the pride of the Valtherion shipyards. Expensive. Advanced. Lethal. A project that was revitalized under my Father's rule and then overseen by my Eldest Brother.
"They like to show off, eh?" Vila’s fingers twitched near her blaster while her lightsaber was hidden away as the TIE escort peeled away, their matte-black hulls glinting under Iskandor’s twin suns. “Should we be scared or sothing?” she muttered, leaning close to .
“Well, they’re not here to welco us, I can guess that much,” I answered, adjusting the high-collared rchant’s coat I was wearing now. The fabric itched... A lot. I was already missing my usual robes. Who would have thought? Wearing regular clothes was... already uncomfortable. But I can deal with that.
“They’re making sure we don’t bolt.” Master Kyle added, looking much more relaxed in his rcenary-like clothes than any of us.
"Which is not strange," Master Ben laid a steadying hand on my shoulder. As we began descending from our ship, “Rember the plan. You’re a trader now. Not a Jedi. Keep your emotions in control.”
I simply nodded, exhaling through my nose. Yes. I was now just a prodigal son returning with a cargo hold full of... well, nothing really.
The docking bay was sterile, all durasteel, and equipped with harsh lighting that almost felt biting to the human eye. Yet, we were not alone anymore. Not far from us, we already had a 'welcoming' committee waiting for us. The fact that it wasn't my Father was enough to know that my arrival was not relayed up the ladder, stopping straight at the figure there, flanked by a group of soldiers.
Darian Valtherion. My eldest sibling. A quick glance at his officer's uniform, he was already a Commodore in the Navy. Not a surprise, really. He stood there with his arms clasped behind his back, flanked by four stormtroopers in their shining, white armor, holding their blasters in a ready position. Darian's uniform was immaculate, the rank plaque gleaming, but it was the cybernetic implant tracing his temple that caught the light and my eyes. He... didn't have that prior to leaving Iskandor. A quick look told enough that it was a thin neural interface wire feeding into his skull. Enhanced reflexes, I guess. I couldn't recognize the model or what it really was... but the fact he had one wasn't that much of a surprise. Anything to get 'better.'
“Kael.” Darian’s voice was just as sharp and unfriendly as I rembered. “I’d say it’s good to see you, but we both know I don’t waste breath on liars.”
"Long ti no see..." I forced a smile, noticing the stark contrast between our clothes. “Still charming as ever, brother.”
"We are not related anymore." He snorted while his gaze flicked over the crew—lingering a half-second too long on HK-O1. “You left as a coward. The mont Father learned of your betrayal, you were struck from the family's registry. You are nobody, Kael. And as I see... You didn't achieve much. Now you return with… what? A ragtag crew and a rusting freighter?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping deeper. “Did you think Father would forgive you? Or did you just miss the taste of Imperial discipline? Because even I know you can't be that stupid that you co and look for help here. Are you...?”
Standing close to , Vila’s lekku twitched noticeably. Almost imdiately, Master Kyle subtly shifted his weight, ready to intercept her if she suddenly lost her composure. My brother was good at that... getting on others' nerves. It was an innate talent. Yet, it was not Vila but HK-O1 who broke the tension with a dry clank.
[Observation: This reunion is as emotionally stunted as expected. Shall we proceed to the obligatory posturing, or may we skip to the threats? My audio receptors are already clogged after trying to filter the nonsense.]
"..." Darian’s eyes narrowed after hearing him speak. At first, he was angry... but then I felt the change. Quite a significant shift, in fact. “That droid. Where did you acquire it?”
"Traded for it. I couldn't afford a new protocol droid." I shrugged, explaining it calmly, “From a junk dealer on Nar Shaddaa. Do you like it? I call him HK. Well, it was what it called himself after I turned it on, and I kept the designation. He is a bit faulty but does the job.”
[Addition: I am mortified to interact with so many atbags of inferior cultures.] HK supplied 'helpfully.'
"As I said," I shrugged. "It was cheap because it has faulty programming, but I do with what I can find."
"..." A muscle in Darian’s jaw twitched. Not because he was annoyed... No. There was more in him. Realization. Recognition. Greed... He knew of HK. Or at least he knew of sothing similar, which made guess that he may have seen sothing similar to HK. If the Grandmaster was right, HK had been touched by the Dark Side. This also ans that maybe parts of it are with the Sith... If so, we will be able to use HK to find them. There are no coincidences when it cos to the Force, are there? “How… amusing.” He turned sharply, jolting out of my thoughts. “Follow . We’ll discuss your business in private.”
There was little talking as we walked, escorted by the stormtroopers flanking us from both sides. It was hard for the untrained eye to notice the markings on their white armor, but they were there. For them, it was visible thanks to the built-in helt sensors, but for a regular human, only the imprints were discernable, and only if you knew where to look. These were not regular stormtroopers. They were from the Death's Head unit, my brother's personal shock troopers. It seems that our arrival was strictly his business and only known by those loyal to him, huh? I wonder what he was planning to use for.
After trekking through the grey corridors, entering the conference room made little difference. It was filled with the sa cold durasteel and so holographic projectors, with the Valtherion crest emblazoned on the wall. After the door closed behind us, Darian didn’t sit down, only looked at us. At , as his figure lood over , his fingers steepled.
“So,” he began, “you’ve been gallivanting across the galaxy, Kael. And now, suddenly, you return—with a droid whose design hasn’t been seen since the Old Republic.”
"Huh?" I leaned back, feigning nonchalance, looking into his eyes. “Like I said. Junk dealer.”
“Convenient.” Darian smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don't take for a fool, Kael. You could never outsmart , and you won't start it now. Do you need to remind you how our sparring went in the past? Or did you already forget the pain? Hmph! What a crew..." He sneered, looking at the others, "A Twitch—”
“Twi’lek,” Vila snapped, her voice sharp and wild. It didn't make my brother flinch, but it did cause the stormtroopers to raise their guns, standing at the doorway.
—a washed-up dancer,” Darian repeated before he continued, nodding at Kyle, “An old spacer and a chanic.” His gaze lingered on Ben after he said that, furrowing a brow. “Though you don’t look like a chanic. Yet... familiar.”
"I am a chanic when needed," Ben scratched his chin. “But I’m versatile.”
Familiar? What did he an by that? Could... Could it be the resemblance to the Grandmaster? I hope not. The last thing we need is for him to discover our identities. Just then, Darian’s commlink chid, and a stormtrooper’s voice crackled through it.
"Yes?" He raised it to his mouth, the coming voice from it quiet enough for regular people to miss it. But not low enough for a Jedi's senses.
“Sir, we’ve swept the ship. No contraband, but the astroch is… unusually resistant to scans. It has multi-layered decryptions in its programming and also resists hand scanners. We can't look inside it without taking it apart.”
So they found R2-D2, who we left aboard the ship to guard it. Good job, little one. And it seems he had opinions about Imperial inspections because I could pick up his beeping from behind.
"Bring it aboard and send it to the workshop. Keep looking." He answered, closing the commlink and turning towards us. “How curious,” Darian mused. “Speak. What do you hide on your ship?”
Before I could answer, HK-O1 tilted his head.
[Provocation: If you suspect treachery, Commodore, perhaps you should search us personally. It isn't rude to ask a trader what he sells, but it is rude to barge into his warehouse and start going through his belongings. At least, if you do so, do it yourself. Though I warn you—my chassis contains several sharp surprises.]
Utter silence. Then, to my surprise, Darian laughed, a sound like ice cracking under weight.
“Oh, Kael. You always did have a talent for surrounding yourself with interesting company.” He tapped his comm. “Hold position. I’ll deal with this myself later.” Then, he looked at , straight into my eyes. "I don't know who called you back... Father, Lucas, or Lucrecia... but you were stupid to co back."
What is he talking about...? Whatever it was, it wasn't good, and I could feel my stomach drop. Whatever was going on, he was stalling for ti.
And then the door hissed open, making both of us turn towards the sudden arrival. By the colored pauldron on his shoulder, it was a stormtrooper captain who stepped in, helt under his arm. “Commodore, urgent news—the Chimaera has arrived in-system.”
"..." Darian’s smirk suddenly vanished. “This soon?”
"Yes..." The captain swallowed. “Grand Admiral Pellaeon’s personal ship. He’s requesting an imdiate eting with your Father, Moff Valtherion.”
Kael exchanged a glance with Ben. Pellaeon? Here? That... was unexpected. Very much so.
"..." Darian’s fingers flexed, the neural interface flickering on the side of his head before he glanced at one last ti. “Very well.” He straightened, locking eyes with the commander. "Order a Delta Protocol amongst my n. Wait for further instructions. As for us..." He waved a hand at . We’ll continue this… reunion later. For now, enjoy House Valtherion’s hospitality.”
The stormtroopers didn’t lower their blasters as he strode out instead... we were locked into the room when they left.
"What a prick!" The mont the door closed, Vila whirled to face . “That shabuir is up to sothing.”
“Obviously,” Master Kyle muttered. “He recognized HK.”
"For sure." Ben nodded, turning towards the window at the far end of the room. “And now Pellaeon’s here. That’s no coincidence.”
"The old bastard is still kicking, huh?" Master Kyle chuckled, and I couldn't help but nod... And it seems his visit was an unexpected one. At least, it was unexpected on my brother's side. Sothing was going on, possibly a power play... maybe the Grand Admiral's presence was a move that my Father pulled against Darian.
Outside, the TIE Defenders scread past the viewport a mont later, heading out towards the edge of the system, read to escort the Grand Admiral's star destroyer into orbit.
"It is rare to see him traveling the Remnant's territory." I chid in, looking out into the darkness of space. "Since he was attacked at Fondor when he refused to aid Darth Caedus's faction, he spent multiple years between life and death. He pulled through, but... He is old."
[Conclusion: He only ventures out when it is a must.]
"Yes..." Ben mused, crossing his arms, standing next to , "Whatever is going on within your family, Kael, I think the Force wanted us to be here."
"Seems like it." I agreed, "Very much so..."
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