In Service of Chaos. (SW\B5)

[Kruk]

When reading about Vorlons in this story I allways hear Yodas voice saying: "A beigns of light we are, not that crude matter"

[NecronLord]

I hope the first ones are making some sort of effort to build more powerful ships. If a single star destroyer whacks the entire shadow fleet I'll be a bit annoyed.

The Vorlons have an Emperor's Hand at their disposal (poor Mara) and the Shadows are hanging around on the Death Star. If they've not been taking advantage of these intelligence coups, they're morons. I have no intention of writing them as Morons, but I also have no intention of wanking them up out of the blue.

While the first ones have vast intellect, implementing that stuff takes time.

[SylasGaunt]

Keep up the good work man, I'm wanting to see where this goes.. but stop long enough to check out the latest chapter of Tombs :p

[NecronLord]

Shit. I forgot. Sorry.

[Chris OFarrell]

ARG! I thought you just posted a new chapter. Bad Necron!

[NecronLord]

Like this one?

Chapter Ten

‘Lies,’ Vader replied, looking at the gawping youth, ‘I have no children’

The Dark Lord brushed past Luke, and strode off, he had come to see something else. The small, and to Vader’s mind, wholly inadequate grave of his mother. He corrected himself. Not his mother, Anakin Skywalker’s mother. The inadequate being that had given birth to Vader. The being that had been more.

Vader’s rage piqued at the alien throught, the concept introduced by that infuriating alien, and he turned, regarding the still gawping boy, “Where is it?” he demanded.

“W- What?” Luke stammered.

“Kosh,” he replied, stalking over toward Luke.

“I don’t know” the boy replied as Vader’s hand shot out and gripped him by the neck. Or at least it was about to. At the last moment the mechanical limp jolted back. The alien presence was back, and exerting a large portion of its power to restrain Vader.

“Do not repeat our mistakes,” Kosh said inside his mind.

Luke stumbled back, and turned to run from the Sith Lord.

“Yes I do,” Vader replied, raging against the restraint, “But not as much as I wish to kill you.”

“You wish to control. Control yourself first.”
He could feel the alien’s exhaustion, and it released him. He collapsed down to the sandy ground. “Where are you?” he demanded.

“You have the means to learn. Let your Force guide you.”


The door to Obi-Wan Kenobi’s domicile was locked, but such things were no impediment to the Sith. The door flew apart, blasted to shreds by the force of Vader’s anger. The place had obviously been deserted for some time, but for one thing. He could see the alien there. It was less impressive in person, no doubt.

“So, you finally show yourself?”

The reply was translated from a strange alien language, and Vader’s enhanced hearing allowed him to pick up more of that language than a human ever could. “Yes,” it said.

“Then show yourself.”

The Vorlon tilted its head to one side.


The angelic being rose to fill the space of the small building, gossamer wings of light spread from side to side of the room. Robed in white and suspended on translucent veils that radiated light, the creature hung suspended, now and then twitching the wings that were clearly unable to support its weight, as if in mockery of gravity.

Anakin Skywalker would later, when asked about the event, describe it as a moment of perfect clarity, in which his perception of the universe changed entirely, as though every single molecule of the world around him had suddenly changed. He had looked upon the face of a Vorlon, and nothing was the same any more.


The next days passed in a blur. He remembered finishing his weapon, and departing Tatooine aboard the Vorlon vessel. Then batteries of strange tests and experiments. The Vorlon homeworld’s air had been clean, or at least, it has tasted clean and pure, the first such air he had inhaled on his own for many years. He remembered a strange and bizarre joy that he had taken in the freedom to control his rate of breathing, and a more predictable delight in being able to truly close his eyes and taste the real oblivion of sleep. It is hard to understand how water tastes when one has not drunk for decades, nor the simple joy of touching a stone with one’s own skin, feeling the damp moss that covers it and the coolness of the rock itself. At a guess, Vader would say that he had been there for two weeks, all told.


Vader’s shuttle landed on a nearby world, and a grey robed figure descended the ramp. The mausoleum of Queen Amidala was large, built in the white marble so common on Naboo. Today two stormtroopers guarded the tomb, though Anakin was uncertain quite why. “Leave,” he said. The guards were weak willed, and immediately complied.

Hours later, the Star Destroyer Vengance slipped into orbit, the transponder of Vader’s shuttle had finally revealed his location, and Jerec was more than eager to deal with Vader, and assure his own ascension to power.

“Darth Vader!” Jerec cried, “I can feel you.”

The grey robed figure stepped from the shadows of the mausoleum. He pulled his hood down, and to Jerec’s surprise, revealed a middle aged man with dark hair and keen blue eyes.

“That name no longer has any meaning for me. You address Anakin Skywalker.”

Jerec laughed as Anakin took his lightsaber from the grey robes, “You cannot seriously think of denying the power of the Dark Side?”

Anakin’s lightsaber ignited, spreading an emerald glow over the surfaces of the tomb. Jerec’s laughter increased as he recognised the blade from his vision.

Anakin smiled knowingly, “I have become Grey. I stand between the darkness and the light.” He advanced on Jerec, and the laughter stopped.

“What happened to your flesh?” Jerec demanded, crimson blade shooting from his own hand.

“Flesh is a vessel. A tool. And it does as it is told,” Anakin replied, bringing his lightsaber, completed with crystals from Obi-Wan’s collection, up into a guard. Jerec struck without hesitation, but Anakin’s blade easily turned the Dark Jedi’s aside. Lightning flashed and rain began to fall.

Jerec struck again and again, and each time Skywalker turned the blow aside with minimal effort. Lightning flashed from Jerec’s hand, and Anakin turned it aside. Jerec was pushed back along the causeway over the waters of the seemingly endless lakes and waterfalls of Naboo. Deprived of the lights, in the shadow of the storm, Anakin’s robes seemed to change colour to black. Jerec’s blows were perfect expressions of anger and hatred, and they fell a dozen per second. Each one would easily slip past the guard of a lesser duellist, each one was a killing strike.

But as the battle continued, the truth became uncomfortably clear. Jerec just wasn’t up to it. But he had his ace in the hole. He had Sariss, the most talented of his many acolytes. She fell from the roof of the Mausoleum, and charged at the man who had been Vader.

Anakin batted Jerec’s weapon away – ‘He’s been toying with me,’ Jerec realised – and pushed him back across the marble causeway. He spun in a tightly controlled turn and parried the blue blade of the second Dark Jedi. She was focussed, calm in her anger. But she was no match for Anakin. Their blades crossed, and Anakin grinned. She followed up with a trio of heavy strikes, and Jerec rose back to his feet, raising his weapon high.

He gasped in horror as he felt a burning pain in each thigh. The blow had come too quickly for him to even see through the force. He perceived the next moment in slow motion. He could see Sariss’ lightsaber flying apart, along with several of her fingers, and himself, toppling backward. He could see his legs toppling to the sides, and his own weapon flying to his opponent’s outstretched hand.

“What are you waiting for?” Jerec demanded, “Strike me down.”

Anakin’s expression was stony, “You do not understand,” he said, “and you never will.” Black smoke curled up from the Dark Jedi’s neck as his head fell to one side, rolling from the causeway and plummeting down to the distant rocks below.

[SylasGaunt]

Just a format suggestion.. perhaps you should save the italics for things like Jedi visions, flashbacks, and ship/vehicle names instead of italicizing the whole text?

[NecronLord]

Or I could just un-italicise them. To be honest, it's like that because I find non-italic TNR a fugly font. The download version will look different.

[Murazor]

Poor Jerec... Great chapter, anyway. So the Vorlons are going to pull a Mimbari-lite with Anakin? BTW, I think that Vorlons were seen as Angels in the B5verse because the local species were genetically modified. Does this mean that the Vorlons were involved in Anakin's birth?

[NecronLord]

They are not directly implicated in that no. They have tampered with most of the races in SW for the purpouses of this fic.

[Crown]

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!*







*It's not what you think ...






You gave him a GREEN lightsabre instead of blue!**












**Told you!

[NecronLord]

If it's any consolation, he now has Jerec's one too.

[Crazedwraith]

BVery nice. Though things always seem to happen really quickly in your fics.

Contrast this with starcrossed:

In SC Nemisis becomes Luke again after many chapters of angst and a near death out of body experience.

In this a Vorlon (?? or is it a shadow?) tells him your an idoit fix yourself. ANd Vader goes Wahhay! Me Anakin!!!

Also Should I be visualisng ANakin as Hayden or the original RotJ Anakin?

[NecronLord]

Hey. It took at least three chapters. Besides, Compare to RotJ, where it happens *snaps fingers* Vader also had a near death experience. Well, he had all his limbs chopped off at any rate.

Besides, I could adopt Stravo's posting habits if you really want.

And yes, it was a Vorlon. Kosh, to be specific.

And a mixture of the two. I must admit to imagining Hayden now and then, but trying to stick to the true actor.

[Einhander Sn0m4n]

Bumpity Bumpity Bumpity

*Whump!*

*Whump!*

*Whump!*

*Whump!*

*Whump!*

*Whump!*

*Whump!*

*Whump!*


Translation: We Want More, Please!

[NecronLord]

Right. No more drugs for you.

[Robert Walper]

Right. No more drugs for you.

You're joking, right? The only thing keeping Ein barely managable now is those drugs. Lots of them.

[frogcurry]

Right. No more drugs for you.

You're joking, right? The only thing keeping Ein barely managable now is those drugs. Lots of them.

Then I recommend moving him on to a stronger substitute: further and regular doses of this story.

[Ender]

Interesting. I've always wondered about how the FOs would view the Empire. On one hand, the Shadows should hate it, it is order personified. On the other, it was born of war and chaos, which is what they always try to do. For the Vorlons, its just the opposite.

[NecronLord]

Interesting. I've always wondered about how the FOs would view the Empire. On one hand, the Shadows should hate it, it is order personified. On the other, it was born of war and chaos, which is what they always try to do. For the Vorlons, its just the opposite.

It's also a matter of their urge to manipulate others to prove they're right. The Vorlons are too much of a pile of jerkoffs to let the Empire slaughter the Shadows.

[NecronLord]

Chapter Eleven

A small hand took a pot from over an open stove. Setting the pot on a table, the hand picked up a carved wooden spoon and took a little of a thick liquid from the pot. The hand’s owner, a small, green creature with long ears, stirred the pot briefly, and took a taste of the soup inside.

“Good, yes, good food,” he said. Few people would agree with him of course. In his long day, Yoda had been known to eat anything put in front of him. He remembered long fights with service droids in the Jedi Temple about what he ate. It turned out that Yoda’s preferences didn’t qualify as food by the standards of those machines.

For Yoda, there was no pain over the loss. There was the force. Part of the Jedi code for a reason, that was. Fear of loss was a dangerous path to the Dark Side. Yoda knew the truth, a truth the Sith Lords would never grasp, no power would make one safe. No power would end the fear.

Suddenly, he felt something. Something in that same force. The darkness that clouded the force eased. There was still an all pervasive darkness, but it was as though the deep black fog shrouding the galaxy had suddenly been blown apart by a strong morning wind, leaving only a portion of its darkness.

The creature put down his spoon, and tottered across the room. “Meditate upon this, I must,” he mumbled.

“Yes,” a voice replied. “You will be surprised.”


“Grand Moff Tarkin,” Morden said, with a his usual fixed smile, “If I may be so bold as to ask you a question-”

Tarkin glared at Morden from the door of his private quarters, adjusting his bathrobe, “And you are?”

“An Associate of Admiral Motti’s, I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

“Ah,” Tarkin said.

“I have a question for you Governor Tarkin. What do you want?”

Tarkin’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking this?”

“My Associates have identified you as someone whose star is in ascendance, if you will, and have decided that they would rather be on your side.”

“I see,” Tarkin said.

Morden smiled obsequiously but disarmingly, “Perhaps if you would let me in, we could discuss the matter?”

The governor moved to one side, and lead Morden into his sitting room.

Moments later, in the next room, a computer terminal activated, seemingly of its own accord, from the desk, the rank cylinders Tarkin used during the day moved to the appropriate ports. A creature, black as night and twice as cold, connected a small box to a port below the desk, intended for the use of droids…


Kaan watched with dismay as the wedge shape of the Victory class star destroyer he was attacking loomed in the octagonal window of the TIE fighter. Part of his mind was as professional as ever when in the cockpit, and he barked off orders to his wing’s encrypted communications system, orders such as “All squadrons to me, lock sensors to their port shield grid!”

A torrent of green flame flew between the silent hunter and this Victory, and TIE fighters on both sides, both groups lighting up his HUD in yet more green, as there had been no time to redefine ship codes, were incinerated by the light turbolasers and laser cannons of both titanic Imperial vessels. The massive bolts, each one a kilometre long, of the two ships heavy turbolasers battered each other at close range, but Kaan was not intimidated.

He had been through far worse battles and survived. This was nothing compared to the Battle of Muunilist, or the Battle of Coruscant, but what it was was something more important.

Firing now, destroying his fellows, was the end of the New Order. It was hard to believe it, but he knew, somehow, that depressing those twin firing studs would cause the greatest empire the galaxy had ever known to fall.

He couldn’t do it. The TIE prototype drifted through an ocean of green fire, not quite inert, it was second nature to him to jink and roll a ship when in combat, and fortunately so, as fire-assistance droids on the enemy Victory would soon target and destroy any enemy fighter travelling in a straight line.

He couldn’t disobey orders either. That was something he’d known longer than he had known himself. So was trust in his commanders. There was no quandary. He new the story he had been given was a lie, but he took solace in the excuse.

Kaan pressed the trigger, and killed the New Order.

And he did it magnificiently. Each tightly controlled burst of his weapons caused TIE fighters to explode in bright plasma clouds, polarising his window slightly. The advanced prototype span and danced through the sea of fire as if protected by some unseen force, unleashing its own pinpoint additions to that raging ocean.

He pulled the ship in a long curve around the Victory, cursing as a laser cannon bolt shot up between the forward sections of his neutrino radiator grilles, and practically singed his cockpit. One day he’d run out of luck, he new, but until then, there wasn’t much he could do.

“Wing commander,” said a voice, he recognised it as the leader of gold squadron, “targeted shield section is down!”

Sure enough, it was, the Victory was already rolling as the Silent Hunter’s barrages pummelled its thickly armour clad hull. Alas, the Hunter wasn’t exactly in that much better of a condition. “Gold!” he left unsaid the ‘squadron,’ “Go! Blue Support!”

The fighters of Blue Squadron darted towards the unprotected side of the Victory’s shields, and following close behind, the bulky bombers shot gracelessly towards the massive weapons turrets on the side. Some of the gunners of the Victory were clearly good, and the two squadrons that Kaan had assigned began to be whittled down in numbers as the waves of green fire engulfed them.

But they were not good enough. Some survived. Some released their lethal payload, and that was all that was needed. The four heavy gun turrets of the Victory’s port side were all destroyed, they looked as though great beasts had savaged them with concussion missile claws.

Kaan was satisfied with this, even though the fire from the Victory was now sporadic, and the ship was rolling. He arced the fighter around the crippled ship again as the Silent Hunter gave it another barrage. To his left a TIE fighter was clipped by one of the green bolts from the ocean of fire, and spun wildly, lightning crackling across its surface.

A signal overlaid on the canopy of his cockpit flickered briefly as the fighter was hit, and turned yellow. Meaning the ship was destroyed but that its pilot remained alive. “Alpha Wing Leader,” he said, “Mission accomplished. Beginning mop up and retrieval operations… Alpha wing, all squadrons, return to carrier”

It was a wise decision, as could be seen by the continuing fire of the Silent Hunter, picking up where the bomber’s pinpoint accuracy had left off. The Hunter’s weapons tore into the Victory Star Destroyer’s hide even as it rolled to turn the other, undamaged cheek. Kaan knew that the Hunter’s gunners were professionals, if not as good as he was – without false modesty, he was one of the Galaxy’s finest pilots – and he also knew that the wounded Victory Star Destroyer was now doomed.

Banking to one side, he quickly altered settings of the TIE fighter’s systems, and cursed as he realised that the designers of the bucket he found himself in hadn’t included a tractor beam. He would have to spend quite some time retrieving the damaged fighter.


“My Lord,” the hologram of Inquisitor Rasavan, “I have located Mara Jade. She has used her authority aboard a vessel of the Fifteenth Outer Rim Patrol Fleet designated ‘Silent Hunter.’ I am ready to intercept her upon your order Lord.”

Palpatine nodded. “Go,” he said, “Capture her and bring her to me at my retreat on Naboo.”

Something called him there, yet he did not know quite what. He checked again for word from Jerec. Perhaps he was getting defiant again, he would doubtless need to be punished. Worse, he also felt what Yoda had felt. It worried him.


Bail Organa sighed as he looked at General Kenobi. “Can you at least tell me what is going on?” he asked.

Ben nodded, “I will try. It feels strange. As though I’ve been carrying a heavy backpack for years, and have finally shed it. Or maybe, more like having had someone breathing down my neck for all that time. It is odd. Very odd.”

They looked at Bail’s daughter, on a platform of the royal palace below them, practicing with her father’s sword. The blue blade hummed as she swung it, in response to not one but three training remotes. Her progress was phenomenal. It would have taken months in the old jedi order, to advance to this level, but she had done it in under two weeks. Astounding, quite simply astounding.

The young woman’s body turned to face each bolt, flawlessly. Sometimes, she would even dodge them… A last second movement of a limb would miss where a drone was targeting, and allow her to focus on another. She wasn’t perfect yet, as jolts of pain occasionally reminded her. But she was well on the way to becoming a Jedi.


On a distant, dead world, known as Z’Ha’Dum, many limbed creatures conversed and planned. In front of them, floating in the well-lit chamber, hung a holographic replica of something generally spherical in design, but far from complete. It was like a wire-frame, almost, but for the complete part, a sphere of metal at its centre, and numerous columns connecting it to a great dish on the surface.

They were well pleased with their prize, and keen to collect it.

[Crazedwraith]

Sweet. So Everyone's feeling Anakins return?

[NecronLord]

"Out of exile, should I come?"

[Murazor]

You have honoured your nick unleashing a horrible terror upon the minds of your readers. Tarkin in a bathrobe <shudders>

Nonetheless, great stuff. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to appoint a lobotomy to get certain disturbing images removed from my mind.

[NecronLord]

Would it help if I mentioned that Tarkin is well endowed?