[Short Stories] - [Galaxy Magazine](2)

Tremayne’s triumph only lasted a moment. The High Inquisitor turned back toward Shelvay and realized that the haggard Jedi apprentice was no longer immobile. Tremayne felt a brief stirring in the Force - - a stirring tinged with the dark side. Shelvay stretched out his hand and Arkanian’s lightsaber flew across the courtyard and into his grasp. With a harsh cry, Shelvay attacked, the blue-white saber blade hammering into Tremayne’s hastily readied defense.

Corwin’s blade hissed like an enraged beast as it contacted the High Inquisitor’s weapon and relentlessly pushed closer and closer to Tremayne’s face. Attempting to maneuver away from the Jedi apprentice, the High Inquisitor prepared to sidestep and swing his own weapon at Shelvay’s neck, a classic feint that Tremayne had perfected through months of diligent practice.

Tremayne barely had a moment to register surprise as Shelvay’s blade arced in an unpredictable, unorthodox move, one for which Tremayne - - overconfident in his ability to defend himself - - was unprepared. Shelvay’s blade severed the High Inquisitor’s arm just below the shoulder, and then slashed across his face on its return swing, blinding him and sending him spiraling into pain, fear and darkness…



Tremayne could feel himself floating, a not altogether unpleasant sensation, save for the fact that it was impossible to tell which way was up. Opening his eyes didn’t help matters; his left eye only registered a gray-white blur, and his right eye failed to respond at all. A burning sensation covered his face, and a cold, hollow ache engulfed his right shoulder. He felt himself succumb to delirium, as if drowning in an inky black whirlpool, a vortex that seemed to pull him in and spit him back out…

…Into his mother’s arms, shortly after his 15th birthday. The quiet, bearded man who had come to visit them had said Tremayne was gifted and could begin his Jedi training. His mother wept with pleasure and pride…

…As he proudly stood among the other Jedi students. He had been studying under Master Kylanu for three years and was pleased with his progress, though Kylanu had indicated some dissatisfaction with Tremayne’s vanity. “A Jedi does not care so much about appearances, Tremayne,” the Jedi Master admonished. “He cares about truth…”

“…And the truth is,” the courier said during the private meeting, “that Palpatine himself is interested in weeding out the corruption that has begun to rot the Jedi ranks. And you, Tremayne, have been chosen to help him. Palpatine is quite convinced of your ability, your integrity and your loyalty. You shall train under his premier agent, Darth Vader…”

…Vader, standing like an obsidian statue in the main entrance chamber to one of his many private fortresses, welcoming Tremayne like a son. “The Jedi order is fading, Tremayne,” Vader had told him, “and they are reluctant to allow newcomers like yourself to reach the full extent of their potential.

“I will teach you, Tremayne,” Vader said, gently. “I will teach you all you will need to know to restore the Jedi Knights to their former glory. You will seek out the traitors, and together we will restore the concepts of order and justice to the galaxy…”

…And Tremayne was again pulled down into darkness….

*

Tremayne lay quietly on the medical bed, flexing his new cybernetic arm. He had recently seen his reflection. While the left side of his face was undamaged, the right side was horribly disfigured. The new implants made the grotesque wounds look even more fearsome. The medical droid revealed that Darth Vader himself had demanded the use of such unattractive prosthetics - - as a sign of the Dark Lord’s displeasure over his student’s failure. Reflecting on the battle, Tremayne knew he had erred, badly. Shelvay - - a mere novice! - - had bested him, despite his years of training, a thought that made the High Inquisitor’s anger burn even more brightly by the moment.

The medical bay door hissed open, and Tremayne felt an icy stab of fear deaden his mounting anger as Lord Vader entered the room. With a glance, the armored giant sent the surgeon droids and organic attendants alike scurrying from the room. An angry Dark Lord of the Sith is indeed a thing to be feared.

“My lord,” Tremayne whispered, his head bowed, “I beg forgiveness.”

“I am most disappointed, student,” Vader growled. “You had a Rebel - - a potential Jedi, at that - - in your grasp, and not only did you fail to extract any useful information from him, you allowed his Master to rescue him, from the Emperor’s throneworld, no less.”

“I cannot understand it, my lord,” Tremayne said. “Shelvay withstood a full Intelligence interrogation before I interviewed him. COMPNOR reported that he was physically depleted but mentally able to withstand their strongest probes. Even my most… persuasive methods failed to loosen his tongue,” Tremayne paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. “He should have broken.”