The Worst of Times

2000 short story by Louis Turfrey

Under a year after Episode IV – A New Hope

The pain was what awoke her. It seared through her side like a hot sabre through jellosp curd.

How did she get here? More importantly, why was she still alive? Her head hurt. She tried to move it, but was rewarded by even more pain. What had she done to deserve this? She had followed her masters teaching to the letter, always over excelling in the tests and always succeeding where others had failed. What had drawn her to so much pain?

Her memory was clouded; all she could remember was the flash of the lightsabre, the pain, the heat and the darkness. Oh yes, the darkness. She knew that this had something to do with it. She had battled with someone and had failed. She knew that the darkness was involved somehow. If only the pain would clear long enough for her to remember. She tried to rise again and this time managed to get her head high enough to see above the level of the grass. Bodies lay around her. At least twelve. Some dressed in black, some dressed in crimson, some dressed in brown. She could not see the faces. She passed out.

The pain struck again and again, each time she tried to concentrate through it. Then as she was about to give up and pass out again, she heard a voice in her mind. She didn’t know where it came from but it was strong, reassuring, calming.

            “A Jedi flows with the force. It sustains one, surrounds one, gives strength where

            there is none. You must learn to control your pain. Only then will you feel the true

            strength of the force. Only then will you heal.”

She calmed herself; let her mind drift inwards to find the damage. It was not good. Two broken ribs, not entirely separated, some internal bleeding, a ruptured liver, cauterised where the lightsabre had passed through it, and heavy burns to the chest and back where the lightsabre had entered and exited. She started with the liver, using a combination of force healing techniques she thought she had forgotten and telekinesis. Then she moved to the ribs and eventually to the wounds. It took hours, and when she was finished, she had neither strength nor willpower left to stay awake.

She awoke with a start. What had happened? Who was she? Where was she? It was cold, damp and she was lying on the ground. Eventually some memory returned, still splintered, but she now knew why she felt so sore. She could see the stars shining brightly overhead.  She must have been out for hours, it was getting lighter on the horizon. She thought of all the worlds that surrounded those stars. It was then she remembered her ship.

She sat up slowly. There was still pain, but this time it was from the healing of her body, not the dying. She smiled, she couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled, and looked down at herself. Her black clothes were torn and ragged; only her boots and the majority of her undergarment seemed to have survived. A metallic cylinder, about a third of a metre in length lay just to her right. Something in her brain told her that it was her lightsabre. She picked it up, standing as she did so, and looked around at the bodies surrounding her. Only clothes and lightsabres remained. Then she remembered; the living force sometimes takes those who die in its service, especially those who have been close to it for long periods. She said a silent prayer to the force for those who had died that day. Hoping for forgiveness from those unfortunate souls, she redressed using cloths from the fallen. Finding a backpack amongst the belongings, she stowed away any lightsabres and personal possessions she could find. Placing her own lightsabre on her belt, and drawing the pack onto her shoulders, she set off in the direction she thought her ship might be.

It wasn’t there. The indentations remained where it had landed, but the craft no longer remained. She examined the indentations further. The grass was only just springing back, so the craft could not have been gone long. A memory sprang up from the depths of her splintered mind. She had set it to leave after two days, transmit a rescue and a warning signal, then return eight hours later. Looking at the way the ground was recovering, she had a good four or five hours left until it returned. She sat down to wait.

As she waited, sitting in meditation, more memories started to flood back. She had been outnumbered, but she had fought valiantly. She could not remember who the others were, only that they had tried to tempt her off of the path. She didn’t even know which planet she was on.

Six hours later, she heard the sonic boom as the craft returned from space. 

It took her another two hours for her to remember the code that released the door lock.

The 2-1-BC Droid examined her closely. Its major scanners were examining the areas of the wound; it clicked a hypo and injected a painkiller. That felt good!

   “Mistress Maya”, yes that was her name, more memory, “you are healing exceptionally well considering the nature and ferocity of your wounds. I have prepared several bacta patches, which have been applied to the remaining areas of damage. You should rest for a while before you return to space.”

The Droid moved away from the examination couch, swinging its appendages out of the way. Maya sat up.

   “Thank you Beecee. I’ll take it easy.” She sprang off the couch and headed towards the cockpit area.

The Droid 2-1-BC stayed motionless for a moment, examining what had been wrong about his patients’ last statement. Then it came to him. She had never said thank you before. He went back to his duties.

On the way to the cockpit, Maya stopped off at the fresher. She looked at herself in the mirror and was startled to see how old she looked. Somehow, she knew that she was only thirty-five years old, but the face that greeted her in the mirror was that of a woman in her mid-forties. There was also a heavy grey streak running through her hair! Must have been the battle she thought.

Ten minutes later she had showered, dressed in a new set of cloths, black, had she nothing more elegant, and was ready to sit down at the computer.

Half an hour later Maya was still looking through the logs on her navigation computer. They revealed nothing. At least she knew her full name and the name of the ship now. Then the communications board chirped

   “We have received your message for aid, can you hear us?”

Maya flicked the switch before thinking about it.

   “Maya Desand here, captain of the Dark Fury, who is this?”

Static momentarily filled the speaker.

   “Did you say that you are Maya Desand?”

The voice sounded cautious.

   “Yes, can you help me? Who is this?”

More static, the silence lasted for nearly two minutes, and then she felt it, a dark shadow passing over her mind. Another force user, much more powerful than her, was trying to confirm who she was. She put up her defences, but found herself quickly rising to anger. The communications panel registered a signal again.

   “Captain Desand, we apologise for the delay. Lord Vader has arranged for a shuttle to relay you to us. Please standby.”

Lord Vader!

Her mind exploded with his image. She felt pain lancing through every nerve in her body. Memories returned. She fought them, but they overwhelmed her. Then she remembered the betrayal and screamed with the agony of it. He had befriended her, twisted her beliefs then twisted her mind, forced her to turn against all she had been taught. He had reprogrammed her loyalties.

The agony of it hit her again!

Her friends, she had killed her friends, and afterwards Vader had found her again, he had been watching the final test. After it all, after the battle, her mind had tried to reassert control. Stricken with grief she had turned away from Vader, discarding her lightsabre, he had tried to kill her as well. The battle had been long and hard, but he struck the final blow, sending his blade through her chest like a spear! She had known then that she would die. He had nearly succeeded, but why did he want her now? Why not just try to kill her again? Did he think he could apologise, make things better and then welcome her back into the fold? She knew she was getting angry.

But this time she didn’t care.

The shuttle touched down. The ramp lowered. Blake De’Athe stepped out onto the green plains of Drurian IV. He paused. She was here, but she was masking her thoughts, hiding just as easily as his cloak hid the lightsabre and the Krill Blade attached to his belt. He wrapped it tighter and walked towards her ship. The YT-1300 sat lopsided on the ground ahead of him. The ramp was down but there was no sign of life. He moved cautiously towards it, stopping near the bottom. He called up it.

   “Hello, anybody there?” His voice sounded normal, friendly and relaxed but his senses were alert to any changes. He felt movement behind him. He swung around, his left hand reaching behind him for the Krill. It shot off his belt into his palm and he launched it into the air as he dived out the way of the lightsabre that was arching towards his back. She was good. Very good.

Maya Desand glowed with both the light and the dark sides of the force, but the dark side was winning, she could feel it. She pulled back on the blade at the last moment, using all her training as a Jedi warrior. She paused whilst her opponent regained his feet. Maya knew she had not pulled up in time. It was only due to her opponent’s great skill that he had survived. She felt the darkness move nearer inside. She watched the silver disk he had launched hover above them. It seemed to be rotating extremely fast, pulsing with a life of its own. She backed off, moving towards the Imperial Shuttle that sat behind her. The Dark Jedi removed his lightsabre from his belt. She felt fear, but not her own - his. He seemed to wait for a moment, looking quizzically at her.

   “You are indeed as beautiful as my Lord says. It will be a shame to kill you.” His voice sounded cold, emotionless and filled with the dark side of the force. He must have been ten years younger than her, but a lot healthier and at the prime of physical fitness. He lit the blade, and a crimson spear of light spat forth. He raised his left hand, reached out towards her. She felt the muscles of her neck start to tighten around her throat. She concentrated harder trying to raise a barrier of defence against him and repel the attack. She was only partially successful. He smiled.

   “You have underestimated the dark side of the force for the last time Captain.” He moved slightly closer, she could see beads of sweat start to form on his brow, and for a brief moment she knew victory. Then his eyes seemed to glaze and he lowered his hand. The grip was still there, starting to choke the air from her. At this point the spinning disk sped in to the attack.

Blake De’Athe raised the necessary energy from the dark side of the force that would allow him to do what needed to be done. He felt his control falter slightly as he lowered his hand, but his hold on her remained. The Krill still obeyed him. He sent it at her, its thousands of microscopic blades would slice into her body, moving faster than the eye could see. An ancient dark side weapon, it was nothing more than a spinning killing disk that used a miniature repulsor field and was able to turn upon its own axis. It hit her in the upper right arm, slicing through muscle and bone, but not severing it. Instead, blood spurted out of a major artery, sizzling as it hit her still ignited lightsabre blade. Yet she still held on.

The pain was nearly enough to send her back into unconsciousness. She fought against it, using her anger to fuel her. The more she did this the less pain she felt, but her arm was now useless. It only held onto the lightsabre because there were no nerves capable of telling it to let go. Then she heard something, a faint voice, calling as if from the grave.

   “Maya, let go of your fear. Embrace the darkness, let it smother you; accept it as nothing more than a lack of light. You don’t need to destroy it, simply outshine it!” Master Bashet!  she recognised the voice now. Somehow though, she no longer felt sadness for his death, even though she had caused it. She drew confidence and strength from the fact that he was able to contact her, even from the grave.

Blake saw her stand straight and close her eyes. She lowered her head as if in supplication. This was his chance, he strode towards her. The Krill came down from behind, arcing towards her back, and bounced. Sparks flew from the device as it buried itself into the ground behind her. She raised her head and opened her eyes. They shone like miniature suns! Blake was so distracted, he didn’t see the blood stop pumping in her arm. She started to chant quietly under her breath and he had to strain to hear her.

   “The force is my ally, I will feel no fear, I will feel no hate. These lead to the dark side.”

She raised her right arm, slowly at first, and then with more surety. Spinning the lightsabre in a broad arc she brought it round into a defensive stance. There was no longer any sign of a wound upon Maya’s right arm. Even the fabric seemed to have resealed. She glanced at it in wonder, no longer feeling afraid, no longer feeling tired. She was at one with the force, more so now than at any time within her life span. She could feel its energies healing her, pain disappeared from her aching limbs. Time seemed to stand still.

Blake took the offensive, attacking with a fury he did not feel. He had never seen anything like the display of force energy that crackled around Maya Desand. Only the Emperor had ever shown him anything so spectacular, and only when he was dispatching a Jedi that would not turn to the dark side. He knew he stood little chance of actually beating her, for he suspected that even Lord Vader would find her difficult to dispatch. What puzzled him most was how she had got so strong so quickly, it also made him fearful. The feeling of fear made him angry. He directed his rage towards the Jedi.

Parry, twist, turn, strike, twist, parry. The battle went on and on. To an outside observer it looked like the battle of two equally matched opponents, but closer inspection showed the real situation. Blake was loosing, giving up ground to the Jedi on almost every stroke.

From within the Imperial Shuttle, Darth Vader examined the scene before him with concern. His adept was not going to win, that was now plain to see, but Vader didn’t have the time to train yet another. The Emperor had warned him in no uncertain terms that another loss would not be tolerated. Vader knew what that meant, and although he wanted to give Blake every chance to prove himself, he knew he must intervene.

Maya could feel the life energies of the force coursing through her, yet there was no exhilaration, no emotion, only peace.

This is how a Jedi should feel.

Darth Vader walked down the ramp of the Imperial Shuttle Tyro, lightsabre ignited. His approach was purposeful and without stealth, yet neither of the two protagonists fighting in front of him seemed to notice. He approached, raised his lightsabre, and struck at Blake De’Athe. De’Athe managed to parry, but left his guard open to the Jedi Maya. She struck him, severing his hand from his body. He collapsed in pain to his knees, clutching the severed limb to his body. Maya backed off, surprised and uncertain. Vader stepped between them and faced Maya.

   “You have done well child, and now you have a choice. Join me and retake your place within my circle or choose death and waste what you have become.”

It took Maya a second to realise that he was talking to her. She considered his offer for only a few more seconds and then made her decision. She extinguished her lightsabre and remounted it upon her belt. Taking solace in the fact that she was now one with the force she took a step towards Vader.

   “If I choose to join you, what happens to your apprentice?” Maya suspected she already knew the answer.

   “He is defeated. If you join me now, he will die by your hand. If you choose to turn me down, he will live, but suffer greatly for his errors.”

Blake looked up from where he knelt, a look of shock on his face.

   “Master, I have served you well for many years. Would you discard me like a pet or a toy that you have grown weary of?” Blake sounded affronted and angry. Vader turned towards him.

   “You are weak. You have always been so. There remains light in your soul which must be extinguished or erased.” He turned back towards Maya. “Your choice. Make it now.”

Maya made her choice, the only one she could.

   “I choose neither. I choose life.” Her voice was calm, she was calm, and for the first time since she had crossed over to the dark side, she felt at peace. She could feel the spirits of her friends gathering around her, giving her strength.

Vader waited no longer, he swung his lightsabre towards Maya, the crimson blade moving as quickly as thought. Just as quickly, he found it blocked - by Blake’s lightsabre. Vader was amused.

   “So the worm has nerve. Why do you do this? She has done you no favours.” Vader sounded scornful, and emphasised it with a parry that sent Blake spinning away, lightsabre falling from his hands.

Blake called his lightsabre to him even as it fell, using the momentum gained by Vader’s push to direct him towards his Krill blade. He chopped the ground out from beneath his weapon. Rolling over and standing he started to run towards Vader who was ignoring him and heading back towards Maya.

   “Because you lied to me! Because you have no honour! Because she doesn’t deserve to die by someone as twisted and as evil as you!” He summoned the Krill, launching it at Vader. It hit Vader’s armour, creating sparks but no damage. It was enough to cause Vader to turn and face him though.

Maya looked on in confusion. Why would a Dark Jedi choose to save her life? She reached out towards Blake De’Athe with her mind and was shocked by the sheer force of the anger she found there, the feeling of betrayal and injustice, and she knew he would die today unless she intervened. She called her lightsabre into her hand and ignited it, its blade now glowing a bright green. The Force was her ally; she would defeat Vader or die trying.

   “I know what you are feeling. I have been where you are standing now” Vader parried a particularly vicious one-handed attack by Blake, who countered by leaping over Vader and attacking him from the opposite side. The two of them throwing attack after attack at each other, trading blows and insults, but all the time Blake giving ground, no match for the skill and ability of the Sith Lord.

   “Do you think you will win today? You are dying as we fight. Each moment you choose to defend this weakling moves you further and further away from the dark side.” Vader lunged at Blake, searing his good arm with his blade, causing Blake to drop his lightsabre. Blake looked up towards him, a look of complete confusion on his face.

   “Why, father? Why did you lie to me?” His voice was weak now, his strength nearly gone. He struggled to stay upright.

Vader dipped his blade, kneeling to face Blake. He grabbed him by the throat, and standing up, lifted him high above the ground. Blake struggled vainly.

   “I am not your father. I never was. You are a clone. Your memories of childhood were implanted. Your genetic father was a weak fool, as are you.” He threw Blake hard, sending him ten metres through the air and into the side of the YT-1300. He turned to face Maya, noticing her lightsabre had been drawn. She spoke to him.

   “If you let him live and let him free I will join you. If you try to kill him I will fight you, and we will both loose.” She said this calmly and with a steady voice.

He considered her request. Vader did not consider himself a fool; he probed her mind for any signs of deceit, and found none.

    “Very well. Your spirit will be useful to the Emperor. He will enjoy breaking it.” He lowered and deactivated his lightsabre. “You have twenty minutes to gather together your belongings and secure your craft. Do not disappoint me Captain, or I will find ways to modify our deal.”

She left him on the ship. Two minutes of applied Force Healing and he had approached consciousness. Beecee would take care of him now. Another two minutes of computer manipulation and she had transferred ownership. She went to a locker and took out a lightsabre that she had been working with earlier, swapping it for her own. Another quick message left on the ships log and she was ready to go.

Lord Vader called up his fighter. A communication had advised him that his Star Destroyer would soon be entering the system and he was eager to get back to the search for the rebel Skywalker. Maya Desand exited the YT1300 and walked towards the transport, his fighter touched down just as she started to board the ramp. He walked down the ramp towards her, briefly considering changing the deal they had made. No, he would maintain his end of the bargain.  He needed her trust now. As soon as she had been presented to the Emperor he would arrange for De’Athe to be destroyed. Blake was no threat to him now that his spirit had been so soundly crushed.

   “You will be taken to Coruscant, where you shall have an audience with the Emperor.” He signalled towards the guards standing at the top of the ramp. One of them took her kit bag the other placed binders around her wrist. She was ushered up the ramp and her lightsabre was taken from her belt. She noted which locker it was placed into. Through the windows of the shuttle she was able to see Vader enter his fighter. She was only sorry that he would not be onboard when she executed her plan.

In orbit around the planet, Blake sat in the cockpit of the Dark Fury. The image on the screen in front of him was one of a woman at peace with the universe. He pressed the play button.

   “By the time you read this I will no longer be a prisoner of this corporeal existence. I have found my place in the universe and I am satisfied that I have done all I can to make it a better place. You, however, need to heal. For the sake of posterity, and to explain my actions, I have transcribed a description of what happened to me before I landed upon this planet. It may serve you better if you read it and then pass it on to any Jedi you come across. As a warning.

I have no explanation for my sudden increase in Force ability. I have always been a good student but I have never felt entirely at one with the force. Until today, that is. I can only assume that somehow my deceased friends and master were providing me with strength through my link to the light side. I can only hypothesise.

You have a strong sense of duty, and somewhere inside you there is a growing spark of light side energy. Don’t waste it. Use it for the greater good.

I must go now, but make sure that the freedom you have gained from the dark side is never compromised. Good Luck.”

Blake De’Athe stopped the viewer. Somehow, he had lost the ability to see the screen clearly. He moved over to the NavComp and sat down at the controls. He wanted to be as far away from this part of the galaxy as he could get, without needing to re-fuel. His new prosthetic hand wined slightly as he moved his fingers over the controls. Ah, the Setnin Sector. He could do some good there. He plotted a course. Fifteen minutes later he had entered hyperspace.

Weeks later, Darth Vader examined the hand he had retrieved. It would serve his purposes well. He placed it back in its storage chamber, ready for transfer to the clone banks. He saw some humour in the irony of it all. At least it might make up for the loss of the shuttle. A young officer approached him.

   “Lord Vader, we have received a transmission from one of the probes.  It’s only a fragment, but it may be the Rebels.”

Within his black helmet, Darth Vader smiled.

The Worst of Times

2000 short story by Louis Turfrey

Under a year after Episode IV – A New Hope

Histories – Written by Louis Turfrey, this tale tells of the time Blake De’Athe spent in thrall to the Dark Lord of the Sith Darth Vader.  Along with Maya Desand, we see some of the depths to which Vader would test his trainees – for their loyalty and their dedication to their master.

Cast of Characters

Blake De’Athe

Maya Desand

Lord Darth Vader