Prologue

Churba System
Hurcha
Tremor Fortress – Western Wastes

Darth Tremar, a tall and lean man, stood in the central tower of his fortress. The wind howled constantly, carrying snow, both new and old, in great swirling eddies, like ocean waves, rippling through the frigid air outside. Inside his fortress of stone covered durasteel, however, it was pleasantly warm, well protected from the frigid air outside.

On the far wall behind him, a fireplace contained a real fire, not a shoddy holographic one. He turned from the window, his plain grey robes rustling as he crossed to a side table where an antique teapot sat steaming. He poured some tea into his cup, and walked with it back to the window.

In that short amount of time, however, he missed seeing the four white clad figures slipping through the snowfall and wind. They bypassed the walls and defences of the fortress, and made their way inside. Using a mixture of stealth, force and the Force, they made their way through the fortress to the central tower.

Tremar turned to the door when the door failed under a burst of the Force, its hinges and lock melting. He smiled at the four Jedi who rushed in, activating their lightsabers in a flurry. Tremar’s polite smile dropped into a frown, and he drew his own double-headed saber from his belt, but left both blades off. “By what right do you trespass in my home,” he asked in a dusty voice, as though he rarely used it.

“Darth Tremar, by order of the Jedi Council, you will lay down your lightsaber, and return to Coruscant to stand trial for your crimes,” the center Jedi, a bulky male wielding a yellow lightsaber, declared in a self-important tone.

Tremar scowled a them. “Self-important fools. Come then, and see if I submit to you so easily.” He still left his saber off, waiting.

The Jedi who had spoken leapt forward, whirling his blade over his head as the other three Jedi spread out in an attempt to flank him. Tremar lashed out with the Force at the lead Jedi, striking with a blast of densely compressed air aimed for the man’s chest. The Jedi swept his lightsaber down, but too late. The blast took him full in the chest, crushing his rubs and collapsing his lungs.

Two of the Jedi leaped inwards at him as he activated his lightsaber, both its blades igniting in brilliant icy blue blades. He spun his saber about, catching both of theirs, and sweeping them out of the way. He started to turn to face the third Jedi when a blast of compressed air blew him off his feet, smashing him into his sidetable, and shattering his antique teapot. He started to his feet, his eyes burning with anger now. “That was an irreplaceable antique. I shall take the price of it out of your flesh, Jeanne,” he snarled.

The Jedi that had smashed him into the table smiled sweetly at him. “If you can find it, Tralin,” she said, using his birth name. She pushed back her white hood, revealing her face, a face that still bore traces of a luminous beauty. She activated her lightsaber, and its blade shone a pale lavender. “You never could when we sparred, or when we fought on the field. Surrender now, Tralin, and have a chance at trial. You are not the first Jedi to fall, and you won’t be the last.”

Tremar sneered at her, and leaped forward, whirling his lightsaber in blindingly fast arcs, but the three Jedi slid aside, as though they knew exactly what he would do, and he had a sudden suspicion that they had been conditioned by Jeanne specifically to fight him. He lashed out with lightning next, smashing it into Jeanne, but she absorbed it with her lightsaber, building the charge, and then released it back into him, hammering him with the focused and intensified power, instead of the somewhat diffused blast he had unleashed on her. He writhed in the grip of the lightning, and the two Jedi leapt forward, and cracked the pommels of their lightsabers against the sides of his head, knocking him into unconsciousness.