Light of the Jedi(111)

“Your goal, then,” the Jedi said.

Marchion thought for a moment, considered his words.



“When my father died, I inherited a disorganized, broken organization. The Nihil had power, but it spent most of its time fighting within itself. It could never reach its full potential, and it had to, if it would ever become the weapon I need. My father tried to change things, but he failed, and then he was murdered.”

Another moan from one of the torture cells. Marchion supposed the shock cycle had just triggered again.

“I almost didn’t want to try at all. For a long time, I just carried on the same role he had—the Eye of the Nihil, keeper of the Paths. I got rich doing it. It was fine. And then…you came.”

The Jedi’s eyes narrowed. Marchion chuckled.

“Oh, not you specifically, Loden Greatstorm. I mean the Republic, building its Starlight Beacon out in my territory. Invading, taking over, with all its rules and laws and particular brand of freedom that isn’t free at all. And you Jedi always just behind, absolutely convinced that every action you take is right and good. My family learned that to its cost, long ago.”

“But we have met before,” the Jedi said. “In a way.”

His face was very, very cold, his dark-green skin seeming to absorb the bright lights of the prison deck.

“I recognize your voice,” Loden said.

Marchion grinned. “There’s a homesteader family, about thirty kilometers to the southwest of town,” he said, his voice suddenly anxious, affected. “Two parents, two kids. You gotta go rescue them, Jedi, you just gotta!”

Marchion Ro slammed backward, hitting the bulkhead, hard. His head cracked against the durasteel. Nothing had touched him…but he knew it was the Jedi.

Loden slumped back—the effort to use the Force had clearly exhausted him.

“Not quite enough,” Marchion said, gingerly touching the back of his skull. “Try that again and I’ll kill one of the prisoners.”

The Jedi did not respond.



“As I said, many paths, one goal. Hetzal was mine, too. I sent one of my ships to intercept the Legacy Run. A Stormship. They had no idea. I just needed an accident, a disaster, something to put the Nihil on the Republic’s radar.”

“Why would you do that?” Loden asked.

“Everything and everyone is a tool,” Marchion Ro said, “I will use them however I need.”

He smiled. A predator’s smile…though this Jedi was dangerous, too, and he could not allow himself to forget it. His family had trusted the Jedi once, and it cost them everything.

“They will come for me,” Loden Greatstorm said. “My Order. And if I am dead…”

He tilted his head, and a little smile played around his mouth.

“…then they will come for you.”

Marchion Ro reached inside his tunic and pulled out an object of stone and metal, a rod, three hands long, carved and incised with symbols—screaming faces, fire, chains. It looked as if it had been melted once and re-forged. As his hand touched the object, it began to glow, a sickly purple color that somehow overpowered the star-bright lighting of the prison deck.

This thing was almost as fully to blame for what happened to his ancestors as the Jedi—but that was an old story, and this was a new time. He could accomplish what they had not.

The rod grew warm under his hand. It felt almost alive, breathing. He showed it to Loden, whose eyes narrowed. In the purple light cast by the object, the Jedi’s face looked strange. Dead.

“I’m not worried about your Order. If they think they can take me…”

He smiled at this Loden Greatstorm, so brave, the perfect Jedi Knight. So unafraid.

“…let them come.”





The station was a wonder, gleaming in the void, an intricate gemstone sparkling in space, one of the largest offworld structures ever built. Its construction had taxed even the limitless resources of the Galactic Republic—but that was the point. Even the Outer Rim Territories deserved the best of the Republic.

We are all the Republic.

This was the Starlight Beacon, and it was, at last, complete. Not a day early, and not a day late. It was designed to serve many purposes, to attend to the diverse needs of the many citizens of the Republic in this region.

Perhaps two cultures required neutral ground upon which to negotiate a dispute—the Beacon would provide. Or if that dispute turned heated, and threatened to turn from words to war—the Beacon was a military base, with a strong contingent of peacekeepers staffed on a rotating basis from the worlds of the Republic Defense Coalition. Its superstructure was 19 percent triazurite, a rare mineral that boosted transmission signals, allowing it to serve as a massive relay point to facilitate better, faster communications among the peoples of the Outer Rim. It was a hospital, it was an observatory, it was a research station, it was a bustling market, trading in goods from across the Rim and beyond.



The Starlight Beacon was open to all citizens, built to allow them to experience the Republic in all its grand diversity. From subsonic whisper-fiber concerts by Chadra-Fan masters, to Mon Calamari ocean dancing, to modules demonstrating the flora and fauna of worlds from Kashyyyk to Kooriva…this was the Republic, the exhibits constantly changed and updated to provide a truly representative experience.