A Living Nightmare

  Chapter 27: A Call to Lothal

  "For the enlightened, he Force is the answer for everything. For regular folk, it's just dumb luck."

  Location: Adega System - Ossus

  The dull hum of the Scythe’s hyperdrive had become a lullaby, a comfort. What once gnawed at my ears on early missions—every hiss of the coolant system, every creak in the hull from shifting pressure—had now blurred into the background noise of my life. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I was already too far gone when I realized it. My thoughts drifted, tangled in half-formed memories and hazy regrets.

  And then, the dark.

  It wasn’t just the absence of light—it was a smothering black, like being blindfolded and left to stumble in a void. The air felt damp, chilled, and each hesitant step I took sank softly into loamy earth. Tufts of grey mist clung to the edges of my vision, swirling with a weightless aim, like they were being pulled toward something.

  Thunder cracked overhead.

  The sharp light cut through the veil of fog and revealed a sprawling jungle city nestled beneath a mountain ridge, broken towers peeking through the thick canopy like ancient fingers clawing toward the sky. The jungle reeked of death—old, rotting vegetation, fungal decay, and the quiet breath of something dying just out of sight.

  Then I saw him.

  Lucian. His hair had grown out, his robes looked new. Behind him was the most loyal little astromech droid this side of R2, that being T3-m4. It's head spun on a swivel as it looked every which way when the wildlife called out from the deep depths of the brush.

  He stepped through the foliage, shoulders hunched slightly under the weight of his weather-worn cloak. The rain had begun to fall, soft at first, a patter against the massive leaves—blue and green things, broad as gliders. I followed without choice, my steps silent, my body insubstantial. It was like watching a memory unfold, except this one breathed. Lived.

  I was haunting him. A ghost.

  "T3, I told you for the fifth time, go. To. The. Ship." Lucien’s voice cut through the stillness, sharper than I remembered. He pointed down the trail with the kind of frustrated patience you only used on pets or younger siblings.

  The little grey droid gave a low-pitched series of beeps that sounded suspiciously like a sulk, rotating on its rear wheels before bouncing slightly over an exposed root, retreating with a reluctant whirl.

  Lucian watched the droid go, arms folded. His eyes—colder now, heavier—flicked in my direction.

  “I can feel you. I just can’t see you.”

  I froze.

  This wasn’t how Force visions, dreams, whatever were supposed to work. There were rules, right?. Time, space—those weren’t things you could just reach across. Were they?

  A chill ran up my spine. I thought of the World Between Worlds, how Ezra used the Temple. Perhaps it was the way Lucian forged Force Bonds? But to sense me through a dream? That shouldn’t be possible.

  I gathered everything I could—hope, longing, desperation—and pushed it out like a breath, a fragile strand of energy woven into the Force. A tether. A little woven letter, a hopeful wave of acknowledgement.

  Lucien blinked. A small, almost rueful smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  “I’ll find you.”

  That was all he said before movement in the jungle cut him off.

  Two sabers whirled from the shadows, spinning at a blazing speed. One he ducked clean under, the other he caught mid-air with the Force, holding it like a rattlesnake by the neck. He tossed it aside, letting it spin harmlessly into the vines.

  Then they emerged. Four of them.

  Two from the underbrush, blades already lit. Another pair shimmered into being—Force cloaked, old techniques forgotten by the time of the Empire. Black robes, lit by crimson blades. Their faces hidden by ornate masks. The smell of charred ozone joined the rank smell of the corrupted jungle.

  Lucian sighed, pulling his cloak from his shoulders and letting it fall in a damp pile. With a practiced motion, his lightsaber flared to life, a rich velvet hue that stood in stark contrast to the cold steel in his gaze. Amusement warmed my incorporeal form, looking at the chromed hilt. Though the details weren't all that accurate, the saber was reminiscent of the lightsaber Kenobi had lost on Naboo. It was his favorite, and one he now held as a true Jedi. Touches of personal modifications, but it was his. He met one of their strikes mid-spin and angled the blade of his Kenobi knock-off, slicing through the Sith's hands and hilt in one smooth motion. The emitter sparked and died, the broken hilt clattering to the ground. joined seconds after by the assassin's head.

  I tried to move, to summon my saber, to help—but there was nothing. My hand passed through the mist, powerless, useless. All I could do was watch.

  They pressed in. Three sabers danced in a coordinated assault, their strikes erratic but efficient. He turned each one aside, footwork fluid, precise. Then one of them faltered—a mistake. Lucien capitalized, severing a wrist, then a swift strike to the gut. The saber tumbled to the jungle floor, only for it to be snatched mid-air by another attacker.

  The fog thickened, grey whorls drawing tighter, crawling in toward the center of my vision. Just before the darkness took me once more, I saw Lucian draw a second weapon—shorter, lighter. A burst of violet flared into the red. A slender hilted shoto I had mistaken for a piece of equipment on his belt.

  Then, it faded away into the cold darkness of sleep. I was cognizant for only a few moments before my senses returned fully. No view of the grey hull ceiling greeted me—just the ever-present hum of the engines. Moments of sight from the visions were making me regret not pursuing a way to fix my eyes. Though, it would be a distraction, I felt, and my connection to the Force would be diminished. I would need every advantage I could get.

  The cold comfort of the sheets was nice, but I knew I’d need to pry myself from them. With a great sigh and no small effort, I pushed off the cot and started the familiar process of gearing up.

  I raised my hand to pull the rotary saber into my waiting grasp, and the metal hilt lifted from the rack that was bolted to the wall. On one hand, it would be prudent to arrive prepared for any situation with a way to defend myself. On the other, I wanted to make a good first impression. An Inquisitor arriving unarmed would be different—and different might raise questions from Ahsoka that I could steer into why I was really here. Not just because of the mission... but because of Galen.

  The weapon landed in its resting place with a solid clank, and I stepped out of my quarters into the cockpit. Hal turned as the door swooped open, a sprinkle of glee seasoning his presence as I felt him through the Force.

  “Good to see you up, instead of thrashing about in your sleep,” Hal said. “Must’ve been one hell of a nightmare. I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up.”

  “Wait, how long was I out this time?” I asked, shifting into the co-pilot’s seat for what felt like the hundredth time. It was well cushioned and not leathery, and as an added bonus the metal didn't creak when I spun it around. Hal let out a dry chuckle, turning back to the controls.

  :"Long enough that I was debating on whether or not to land on the planet." Hal flipped a few switches, and I felt the forward inertia kick in, barely perceptible through the Force. "Ossus is an old planet, but scans show no civilization, or population just another uninhabited world abandoned after the war. Only thing of note are the coordinates for some old ruins I dug up when trying to see if there was anything special about this place."

  "It's like Dantooine, just more remote." I say, nodding with faux understanding. I knew this already, most of it anyways. "So these ruins, another ancient Jedi Enclave or temple of some kind?"

  Hal pulled the safety belt over his armor, and I did the same.

  “Entering the upper atmosphere.”

  The shields kicked in, and the dampeners drew in more power as the lush green world came clearly into view—just as the reddish-orange flame of entry dissipated in a matter of moments. Hal always liked to cut through the atmosphere a little too fast for my liking, and I winced in anticipation as he panicked slightly, yanking up on the yoke hard to avoid crashing into the rising towers of green and red below. We had yet to crash-land on any mission so far. Then again, there’s a first time for everything.

  “I hate it when you do that,” I told him, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My hands moved to the belt, unbuckling it with a click.

  Earning himself a cocky grin, Hal swapped to a slower speed, making the engine’s rumble nearly inaudible from inside the ship as we glided leisurely above the treeline.

  “I know,” he said. “And I’ll keep doing it until you decide to fly the ship for once. I can teach you, y’know—since they didn’t bother showing you at the Fortress.”

  Ignoring the bait, I pressed on with what mattered.

  “These ruins—what did you find out? I assume that’s where we’re headed.”

  The Force was alive here—vibrant and teeming, like the waves of a warm ocean lapping gently against a distant shore. It radiated from the ground and the canopy above, thick and heady in my senses. It would be difficult to pick Ahsoka out clearly among all the life this world held—and even trickier if she was actively veiling her presence.

  “A few years back, there was an excavation near those ruins,” Hal began, tapping at the console. “They spent months digging around and found nothing, so the project was abandoned. The records I pulled weren’t all that interesting, to tell you the truth, sir. Scans did indicate a ship not far from the site, though. Likely our Jedi. It’s a—”

  “T-6 shuttle. Used during the Clone Wars and before for diplomatic missions?” I cut in, not looking up as I felt the signature ahead of us grow stronger.

  Hal gave a slight double take, blinking as he glanced my way. “Uh, yeah. The same one.” His voice trailed off, but he didn’t press the issue. I’d used light foreknowledge often enough to pass it off as a strange, but believable, Force intuition.

  “Cool,” I said, already focusing ahead. “Fly over it—clear and slow. I want her to know we’ve arrived. I’ll approach on foot. You two stay here and keep watch in case she has friends lurking nearby.”

  I rose from my seat and made for the ramp, only pausing as I felt HK’s head swivel in my direction.

  “No killing, HK,” I said firmly, spinning on my heel just long enough to jab a finger in his direction. My tone shifted into the same cadence my brother used whenever he scolded T3-M4. “That’s an order.”

  “Outrage: Master, you continue to deprive me of even the most basic joys in this miserable shell! I cannot even properly flail my limbs in frustration—because I have none!” HK’s vocabulator grated with indignation, every syllable pitched like a saber blade sizzling through durasteel. “Do you know how humiliating it is to be denied dismemberment and locomotion in the same breath?”

  He spun in place, kicking up dust from the floor plating beneath his wheels in a tiny, impotent circle.

  “Warning: My emotional regulators are reaching critical sarcasm thresholds. Further pacifism may result in auditory insubordination.”

  “Duly noted,” I muttered, walking off before he could rattle off more statements of displeasure. I really had to get him something soon, or I'd end up on the wrong side of a shock prod.

  Location: Adega System — Ossus, T-6 Shuttle Interior

  The world outside remained quiet. Still. Ahsoka sat cross-legged beneath the central arch of her ship’s hold, the old T-6 humming faintly beneath her—its essential systems running low and silent, just enough to keep power to life support and minimal diagnostics. The cockpit readouts blinked softly in the distance, like stars seen through a half-drawn curtain.

  She breathed slowly.

  The Force stirred around her like wind through old leaves, brushing past her senses in thin spirals. Ossus was rich in it—dense, alive, layered with memory. She could feel the forest beyond the hull, wild and ancient. Could sense the roots gripping into stone, the birds nesting under canopies dripping with moisture, the still pools that reflected the broken sky. It was a sacred place. A forgotten one.

  Her mind eased into that rhythm, her pulse slow, her body still. She had sat this way a thousand times before—in transit, in hiding, in waiting. Her breath followed the old cadence that Master Plo taught her so long ago. She still remembered the gentle prodding, the patient sighs when she couldn’t hold focus longer than a few minutes without shifting or peeking.

  A smile tugged at her lips. Some things didn’t change.

  But the Force around her had. It shifted—just slightly, like the weight of someone stepping into the room. Her expression hardened. There it was. A presence.

  Dark. Tainted. But calm.

  The kind of calm she had come to recognize all too well—when someone stood perfectly still before they struck. It crept into the system not like a roar of thunder, but the whisper of approaching flame. Cold, and hungry, and waiting.

  She held still, sensing it. Studying the shape of it.

  It wasn’t like the others.

  This wasn’t the blunted, angry smog that rolled off the more careless Inquisitors she had crossed paths with in the past. This was... quieter. Focused. A knot of conflicted emotion wrapped in deliberate stillness. The rage was there—but it wasn’t flaring. It simmered beneath the surface, waiting like a well she knew he’d draw from later.

  She leaned in—stretching out her senses. There was something familiar about it. Not the man himself—no. But something just beneath the surface. A warmth, the echo of a fire long dimmed. A presence that reminded her of—

  Venrik.

  Her chest ached at the thought. For a brief moment she almost hoped. But no—this was weaker, smaller, unstable. It was not him. That presence—Venrik’s—had been like a bonfire in a storm. This was a spark clinging to wet tinder. Similar, but only in structure. In essence? A shadow.

  Still, the similarity rattled her. Just enough to distract her for one breath longer than she should have allowed.

  Then—

  He vanished.

  Not faded. Not cloaked. Gone.

  Her eyes opened slowly, breath halting. The cold of the metal floor beneath her was suddenly sharper, more real. She blinked once, then glanced around the shuttle.

  He hadn’t masked his presence. Not in any traditional sense. No distortion of the Force, no echo of a cloaking technique rippling outward like rain in a bucket. No pinprick on the surface of her senses. It was like watching a candle snuffed without smoke. Like a door closing without a click.

  Ahsoka stood quietly. The forest outside buzzed softly with insects and distant birdsong. Her ship remained as she had left it. Quiet. Cloaked. Unassuming. But she no longer felt unseen. Something had changed.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  She turned toward the panel by the hatch and checked the proximity scans. They hadn’t pinged anything yet, but that didn’t mean much. If the Inquisitor chose to walk—well. She’d know soon enough.

  She closed her eyes again, drawing in another breath.

  Venrik had warned her of this. His last transmission spoke in riddles, but he was clear about one thing—another was coming. A stranger. An Interloper. Not a Sith, not a Jedi. Something else.

  And now he was here.

  Ahsoka exhaled slowly, easing back to the floor and resuming her stance. Her hands folded gently on her knees, her montrals dipped low. She slipped back into the old meditative rhythm. One breath at a time. In. Hold. Out.

  Venrik’s words returned to her with the weight of prophecy, echoing through her mind in that soothing voice she still missed.

  “He’ll wear a name but not know it. He’ll walk a path he chose, but feel every step like a chain. You’ll know him when he comes.”

  She understood now.

  The presence she had just felt—brief as it was—matched that warning. It was not a storm bearing down with fury, nor the overwhelming cold of the Dark Side in full. No, it was restraint. Power tethered by a fractured will. He was shackled by his role, yet moving with purpose. Chained—but free.

  A contradiction, now gone from her senses. With nothing else to do, she continued her meditations.

  Ahsoka sighed and cracked an eye open.

  The silence hadn’t changed. No sign of him. No presence lingering on the edge of her senses. Just birdsong, galorfian barks and the low hum of the jungle pressing against the hull of the T-6. She shifted slightly where she sat, legs numb. With a reluctant breath, she leaned over and glanced at the ship’s chronometer.

  Only an hour.

  She exhaled sharply, tired of waiting.

  Rising, she stepped toward the control panel and flicked a few switches with practiced ease. Consoles lit up, displays flickering to life in a slow, measured glow. The long-range scanner swept across the skies above, catching the only blip that mattered, the only blip that was there.

  “Phi-class shuttle,” she muttered under her breath. Imperial shuttle meant for transporting Inquisitors en masse from their hidden base, and one Inquisitor was using it. It was strange. All of this was.

  The transponder pinged seconds later.

  The Scythe.

  She leaned closer, frowning. She should have looked into the Inquisitor earlier, but the wealth of information about the Fortress kept her busy.

  A quick cross-reference pulled up her compiled data—fragmented reports, half-legible scout logs, and decrypted transcripts from hidden agents. The 14th Brother had left a trail easily enough to follow. Nar Shaddaa with another Inquisitor. Rumors of being behind the orbital station that devastated Zelrio Plaza. Half encrypted messages about an ex-Jedi Ferus Olin. Malorum dissappearing not long after that Malorum. Always a shadow, never quite disappearing.

  She glanced back up to the report from one the surviving Kutter's, a list of those lost in the Plaza crash—General Kota’s name.

  Her eyes lingered on the line longer than expected.

  That piece clicked into place harder than the rest.

  Kota was one of the few Jedi she had spoken to directly in the last few years. Rough around the edges, sure. Blunt. Stubborn. But steady. Unafraid. A man who Bail had come to rely on more and more His death had been a blow, not just to morale, but to momentum. Unexpected. Too clean, too efficient. She remembered the hushed messages afterward, the scramble to confirm it was real. The sense of something falling apart quietly behind the curtain.

  Her jaw tensed as she scrolled further down the report, her thumb pausing just briefly before continuing. There were kidnappings too. A child on Ord Mantell. A merchant’s daughter on Bextar. A sighting on Bar Naval, hushed reports from the local council. What she read terrified her, it made her uneasy. Despite what Arnev said and his assurances of the Inquisitors' peaceful intentions, she felt a creeping doubt growing in the pits of her stomachs.

  She stood there, lit by the dull glow of the console, and let the information settle. She would have to trust in the Force on this one, she determined.

  She tapped into the Force for clarity, breathing deep through her nose as her mind settled into that familiar drift—gentle currents that once guided her when she was younger, when answers came more easily.

  But instead of clarity, she felt it—him.

  His presence flared back into existence like a flare in the void, sudden and stark. That same dark undercurrent. Not aggressive, but unstable. She recoiled instinctively, the motion of her hand sweeping across the console without thinking, flicking off every system she'd just brought online. The hum of the power core dimmed. The scanner went dark. It was pointless—he had most likely already sensed her. She knew that. He was already on his way. Still, the old habits won out.

  And so, the ramp dropped with a hiss of compressed air, settling into the moist earth below. She walked down onto the jungle floor, inhaling the thick, earthy scent of damp moss and leaf rot. The clearing was as still as ever, birds long since spooked from her landing. She moved to the center, lowered herself onto the ground, and crossed her legs. Two sabers. Placed carefully before her. Her hands came to rest atop her knees. Eyes closed.

  The quiet filled in fast.

  It wasn’t long before the sound of repulsors broke through the canopy. Low, deliberate. The shuttle banked overhead, casting its shadow across the glade. She barely registered it. The valley she’d chosen to hide in made it easy to track anything coming or going. There was a stream nearby, and the old Paraaxium ruins just beyond. A safe place, for now.

  She didn’t need to reach out. She could feel him walking long before she heard him. Each step down the trail stirred a pulse of uncertainty. His mind tried to calm itself, but it leaked into the air like a cracked tank. Hesitation. Apprehension. He wasn’t hiding it well. He wasn’t here to kill her.

  A drop of rain hit her right montral and slid down to her shoulder as he drew close. She smiled slightly. He felt like a struggling Padawan. One who didn’t know how to run—only how to carry the chains he was given.

  Wet leaves shifted. The faintest squelch of boots in the soft earth. She counted the steps until they stopped, just ten feet away.

  He was watching her. Measuring. Not for weakness, not entirely. He was curious.

  She opened her eyes slowly.

  He was younger than she expected. Human, early twenties, maybe. Thin, sharp features and paled skin. But it was the eyes that caught her off guard—faded blue, touched with unnatural light. Like Venrik’s. She blinked once.

  “We finally meet, Master Tano,” he said, drawing out the title with careful mockery. It didn’t land.

  She gave no answer yet—only studied him in return.

  “Or do you prefer Ahsoka?” he asked, standing across from her as the raindrops gently fell on them both.

  “Ahsoka will do,” she replied, watching him closely.

  “I’m Alonzo.”

  A pause hung between them, stretched out by the soft rustle of distant leaves and the low buzz of insects somewhere off in the trees. Mist clung to the edges of the jungle clearing, curling lazily in the still air.

  "I expected a small rebel base of some kind," Alonzo said.

  His voice carried in the quiet, steady and curious, not hostile. He lowered himself, sitting cross-legged in the wet moss and scattered leaves, posture casual but guarded. His head tilted slightly as if scanning her—not with sight, but something else. Through the Force, maybe. She didn’t answer at first, watching the rise and fall of his chest. No weapon visible, no immediate threat. Not yet.

  "You’re not what I expected either," she said. Her tone was even, soft. "Your presence—it’s familiar. Reminds me of someone."

  "Let me guess. The previous guy not from here?"

  Ahsoka gave a slight nod.

  "Venrik," she said, the name threatening to bring up old, fond memories. "The ancient texts... called his kind Interlopers. Or sometimes Outlanders. Strange Force sensitives, touched by the Force in a strange way. Legends said they knew held knowledge of the Whills."

  That made him laugh—quietly at first, but it lingered, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it.

  "That’s... weirdly smart way to put it. I guess even Jedi needed a name for people like us. Something that made sense in your world."

  He shifted slightly, his gloved hand brushing a fallen branch aside. The Force settled gently between them, not tense, but alert. The jungle creaked and moaned with distant winds.

  Alonzo glanced up again. "HK had a former master. I know that much." He hesitated. "Venrik—he didn’t go by any other names, did he?"

  She narrowed her eyes, cautious now. "No. Not that I know of."

  He looked disappointed, though not surprised.

  "He never used the names Lucian or Vincent?" He had to be sure.

  "Should I know those?"

  "They’re my brothers." His words came quieter, nearly a whisper. "I hoped... Vincent might be here too. I know Lucian is still out there. Somewhere."

  The wind shifted slightly, brushing the leaves in a soft wave across the clearing. Ahsoka didn’t respond at first, watching him process his own words. The moment passed in silence before he drew a breath, grounding himself again.

  She didn’t look at him when she spoke again.

  "You’re not just here to ask questions, are you?"

  "No," Alonzo said quietly. "I need out. I want to leave the Inquisitors… with a bang. Make it hurt."

  He shifted, pulling his gloves tighter over his wrists, as if bracing himself.

  "And I want to take Galen with me."

  Ahsoka glanced up at that. Her brows knit. "Galen?"

  There was a pause. A longer one than she expected.

  Alonzo winced and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He chose his next words with care.

  "Galen is a young boy—far younger than he should be by this time. But he’s important. He’s supposed to be..." He stopped, then pushed forward. "He’s supposed to be Darth Vader’s apprentice."

  A silence fell between them like a weight.

  Ahsoka’s head tilted. Her expression sharpened. "Apprentice?"

  Alonzo blinked once, then grinned wide—unexpected, boyish, almost thrilled.

  "You understood that?!"

  She didn’t return the grin, but a small, puzzled smile curved her mouth. She held up a hand in caution.

  "Don’t push it. I understood enough."

  "Sorry, it's just that, uh..most people don’t. I try to talk about changes and the Force warps the words. The people from here, they hear nothing but garbled language. Or my head starts pounding like I’ve been boxed in the skull. It's a warning."

  His grin faded into thought, eyes narrowing slightly.

  "But you—you understood what I said. Why?" he asked outloud, then the answer came quick as he thought of the Clone Wars. "You died. On Mortis, and you were brought back. The Daughter probably has something to do with it."

  Ahsoka’s expression grew distant, a shade uneasy. She hadn't thought of the events on Mortis in some time.

  "I… guess," she said slowly. "You know a lot about me." Her voice tightened. "We never reported that to the Council. Or made any official records."

  He nodded. “Interloper,” he said softly. “I know your future, your past. But not all of it. Just the parts I was made privy to.”

  He exhaled. The air stirred the wet leaves in front of him.

  “And even that future’s changing. If the past is already different… then my original plan—keep my head down, avoid major shifts, let history play out—that’s already in the dumpster.”

  Ahsoka didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. She could feel the weight in his words. She had seen it before in others.

  "I always dreamed of being here," he went on. "In this galaxy. In this universe. It seemed so exciting. Better than my mundane life back home." He laughed once, bitterly. "Guess I got the bad draw. I killed Kota, Ahsoka. I’ve killed so many people. I live in a waking darkness, unable to see. I'm full of nothing but misery and rage. I’m tired of it. I want something better."

  The Force stirred faintly between them, like a breeze over a pool.

  She watched him a moment longer, then asked gently, "You need my help to leave the Empire?"

  He shook his head. "No. I mean, yes. But it’s not about me. It’s Galen. If he stays with Vader… if the Emperor gets to him—"

  He trailed off, then met her eyes. "He’ll become something terrible. Something monstrous. I have to make sure that doesn’t happen. Even if it means staying where I am."

  Ahsoka drew in a quiet breath. Her voice was low, almost a whisper.

  "The schematics then… they weren’t just a peace offering."

  He shook his head again, slowly. "No. They’re a message. When I leave I want it to be...I want the Inquisitorius in shambles. And I want to get my people out when it happens. But I can’t do that alone."

  Ahsoka’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer, measuring the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands fidgeted despite his calm tone.

  "And what of your mission to find me?" she asked, her voice quieter now, though not without an edge. Her eyes drifted down to the pair of sabers resting beside her knees, the hilts streaked with moisture from the humid air.

  Alonzo folded his arms and let out a slow, tired breath.

  "I found you. That was the assignment."

  He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though the tremor in the Force gave him away.

  "I’ll report your location, the ship you’re on… and leave it at that. Make an excuse about a strong presence in the Force and being a cowardly little kriffer." He barked a hollow laugh. "Might even believe it myself."

  Ahsoka raised an eyebrow. "You seem to have everything figured out."

  "Not even close," he muttered. Then added, more plainly, "But I know what I want. Galen… and my friends. They need to be safe. I was thinking Felucia."

  "Felucia?" she repeated.

  "Master Shaak Ti should still be there. Living among the native tribes. She took an apprentice, if things haven’t changed too much yet."

  He hesitated, fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to reach for something—his saber, perhaps, or just a sense of grounding.

  "Well… that’s if she survived in this timeline. I could be wrong. I killed Kota, after all."

  The weight of it hit the air like a dropped stone.

  Ahsoka bowed her head slightly. She could feel it ripple off him—guilt, shame, the kind that burned quietly beneath the surface.

  "I'm sorry," Alonzo said at last, voice steady but low. "I know he was important. Maybe not a friend… but important."

  Ahsoka tilted her head in thanks, though her expression barely shifted. "I didn’t expect to hear an apology," she admitted. "But I appreciate it. He was… a good man. A force of nature, really. I hope whatever part you play within the rebellion makes up for his loss."

  Alonzo gave a slow nod but said nothing more as he remained in his own thoughts. The leaves around them rustled softly, stirred by the passing wind.

  "He was supposed to live. Train Galen for a time, after he was betrayed by Vader. Be a bigger part of the rebellion. I don't know what happened to him then, but I think.." he stopped for a moment. "I feel responsible for Galen. I killed his mentor, took him away from his parents, and now I'm away from him when I should be helping him, protecting him. Training him to be something more than what he should be." Alonzo looked out toward the thick foliage, his voice softening.

  "I'll probably have to do far worse things before I have the chance to leave," Alonzo murmured, eyes lowered. His fingers worked against the hem of his glove, the tension bleeding through his movements. "That’s what scares me. The longer I stay, the more I become what they want me to be."

  "Then leave," Ahsoka said, firm but not unkind. She adjusted her posture slightly, her hands resting loosely on her knees. "Waiting and watching won’t get you anywhere. Trust your instincts. Don’t think—at least that’s what my Master used to say."

  Alonzo gave a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Easier said than done.”

  “I know,” she replied, voice softer now. “But if you’re waiting for the perfect moment to make a clean break, it’ll never come.”

  “I’m trapped.” His voice cracked just slightly, as if the words had been stewing for too long. “I have this conversation repeatedly—time and time again. One big cycle I can’t escape from. I hate it. The uncertainty of it. I want to know that if things go wrong—when they go wrong—my friends will be safe. I don’t care what happens to me.”

  Ahsoka didn’t answer at first. The breeze carried another scatter of leaves between them, whispering across the jungle floor. Then, she said quietly, “I had a friend who thought like that.”

  Alonzo’s head tilted slightly. “Venrik?”

  Her eyes narrowed just a fraction, but there was no anger—only memory. “He tried to put others before himself. He was reckless.” A fond smile washed over her as she looked in the eyes of her proclaimed enemy, the similarity was unsettling yet comforting. "Master Kenobi would say he was worse than Anakin when he was training him to be his Padawan."

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she said, with a faint smile that never reached her eyes. “He’s one with the Force now.”

  Alonzo started to ask her something else, a question hesitantly forming on his lips, but was interrupted by the sharp chiming from the communicator clipped to his belt.

  “Hold that thought,” he said, rising smoothly to his feet. He stepped back toward the dense brush at the edge of the clearing, just enough to obscure Ahsoka and her ship from view. The lush foliage enveloped him, droplets of water tapping gently against broad leaves and sliding down vines, muffling the outside world.

  With a steady breath, he activated the communicator. The holographic projection of the Grand Inquisitor flickered to life, the familiar, severe face staring back at him.

  "Fourteenth Brother," the Grand Inquisitor began, his voice clipped and impatient as always, yet somehow managing to sound almost pleased, "I come with good news. You are to join me on Lothal and assist in hunting a pair of rather... elusive Jedi. Your fruitless search will have to wait."

  Alonzo bowed his head slightly, respectful in demeanor despite the faint, rebellious spark of excitement igniting within him. "I understand, Grand Inquisitor."

  "Very well," the Grand Inquisitor said sharply, though a subtle hint of relief colored his words. "I expect to see you soon."

  The hologram dissipated, leaving Alonzo alone once more. He stood still for a moment, letting a small smile spread across his face. Ezra, Kanan, and the Ghost crew—actively causing havoc for the Empire—waited for him on Lothal. The thought sent a ripple of excitement down his spine.

  Composing himself, he clipped the communicator back to his belt and stepped back into the clearing. Ahsoka hadn't moved an inch, sitting cross-legged exactly as he'd left her, eyes gently closed.

  "I'm going on a business trip to Lothal," he said, a faint trace of amusement in his voice. "I'll play nice. I'll be careful with that cell."

  She opened her eyes, watching him carefully. Without any sudden movements, Alonzo lowered himself to the ground again, reaching gingerly toward one of her lightsabers lying before her. She sensed no animosity, only curiosity and genuine fascination.

  "By all means, please," she gestured gently toward one of the hilts. "I appreciate the kindness. Though I am worried you're being called off so soon. It's quite a coincidence."

  "As I was told once," Alonzo said, a contemplative expression briefly crossing his features, "with the Force, there are no such things as coincidences." He paused, brow furrowing as he struggled to recall. "Or something along those lines—it's been a while," he finished with a laugh.

  Standing up, he ignited the blade, the pure white crystal illuminating his face and bathing the surrounding jungle in a soft, ethereal glow. The hum of the purified kyber crystal resonated gently through the Force, a calm contrast to his turbulent presence. He made a slow, experimental swing through the damp air.

  "I do have a favor to ask, on top of everything else," Alonzo admitted, turning back toward Ahsoka with a boyish grin. He swung the blade again, clearly enjoying the sensation. "Shit, that's so cool," he laughed.

  Ahsoka watched with a perplexed smile, standing gracefully and clipping the second saber to her belt. "What's the favor?" she asked, arms folded as she regarded him curiously.

  "HK needs a body," Alonzo said simply, powering down the saber and carefully handing it back to her, reverence in the gesture. He reached into a small pouch and retrieved a data strip, holding it out in offering. "And I also have this."

  Ahsoka coughed out a laugh, shaking her head with a bemused smile as she accepted her saber, then delicately pinched the data strip between her fingers. "Right. Of course he does."

  "And this is?"

  "Hal and I drafted up some plans for my exit, whenever that'll be," he explained, his voice serious again. "Vos'la Kaa's info is on there too."

  "Oh," she teased lightly, arching a brow at him, "so you do make friends?"

  "Now, ma'am, that is uncalled for," he retorted, feigning offense as he crossed his arms with mock indignation. The brief moment of levity lingered before Alonzo's expression grew somber once more.

  "Things will happen quickly," he said quietly. "You’ll be hunted and pursued far more aggressively than anything I've done. I tried to keep bloodshed minimal—trading information rather than lives."

  "I thank you for the warning, Inquisitor," Ahsoka said warmly, nodding her appreciation. "I think I can handle myself well."

  "Speaking of," Alonzo said suddenly, looking around briefly before calling a sturdy stick to his waiting palm through the Force, "I have some time to kill."

  He gripped the makeshift weapon in both hands, holding it angled downward at his side. "If you would instruct me, Master Jedi, I would be grateful."

  Ahsoka considered him thoughtfully, sensing his earnestness and sincerity beneath layers of darkness and pain. He was on the wrong path, struggling to find a better one. For all his trappings and failings, he was not truly her enemy. Perhaps this was the first step on his new path.

  "Very well," she agreed gently, using the Force to call her own stick to her waiting grasp. "Attack me."