Told you this story didn't die! It was just on hiatus! For... about six months... oops... sorry.

Chapter 10 – "Don't Do It"

Seething with intemperate anger, Galen was on his feet within moments – a hot, glowing beacon in the soft darkness that permeated the hut. But his rage was more than an instinctive reaction – it was a mask his mind had donned in order to hide any outward clues that he was severely shaken. The fact was, that finally managing to voluntarily use the power of foresight, he had expected to be able to control that particular ability. To have it take him unawares like this, especially when he was most vulnerable – in his sleep – was something he had not been prepared for.

And the vision, the vision itself, was what had wracked him most. He knew that it had not been simply a random, though vivid dream, brought on by subconscious, pre-slumber musings. No, what he had seen – a feeling of anguished surged through him – had occurred, and he had witnessed Rahm Kota's death with frightening clarity. The scene flashed before his eyes again in dim recollection, and with it came the burning desire to exact retribution, terrible retribution, on the Empire. Undoubtedly, Kota would have talked him out of this course of action with his usual bluntness – but, Galen thought, with bitter fury, the old Jedi was no longer here to do so.

His mind set, he stalked purposefully from the room. There was no sign of Kenobi. Galen, looking around, spotted PROXY immediately.

"Proxy," he said sharply.

The droid whirred to life at his master's call. "Here, Master," he said, as brightly as was technologically possible for him.

The former Sith turned away, somehow unable to endure the stare of PROXY's glowing, unblinking photoreceptors.

"We're leaving. Now."

"I see. Have you taken up planet-hopping as your new occupation, Master?"

"Not exactly." Galen couldn't even muster up a smile in response to the query.

"If you'll excuse me for saying so, Master, you sound more than a bit distraught –"

"Is there any reason why I shouldn't be?" Galen snarled.

"I'm afraid that I can come up with nothing that would explain your sudden change in behavior –"

It exploded out of him before he even realized he was shouting.

"Kota's dead, Proxy! DEAD! On Vader's orders!"

A slight pause. "I'm curious as to how you obtained this information –"

The calm in the droid's voice processor made Galen want to lash out at him.

"It was an accident – I had a vision, I don't know why –" He paced wildly about the room, drawing in rapid breaths in an effort to control his still-mounting anger. "How, Proxy?" he spat furiously. "How could the Empire have found him so easily?"

Before the droid could answer, a thin shadow moved across the doorway of the hut, and Kenobi emerged from the night outside.

"Is something wrong?" he inquired mildly.

Galen turned to face him. "I'm leaving the planet," he said, moderating his voice and, with difficulty, letting the emotion recede from his features.

Kenobi raised an eyebrow in reply. "I thought you needed my help."

"That's beside the point now."

"And this 'point' is now what, precisely?"

"That's not your business, old man!" Galen retorted, this time unable to hide his anger as he glared at Kenobi.

A long, tense silence fell, broken only by Galen's footsteps as he moved to the door.

"Don't do it." The old Jedi's voice sounded thin and feeble, no longer serene.

"Do what?" Galen threw back impatiently, as PROXY joined him.

"Seek revenge against the Empire."

Galen froze. How did he know…?

"You won't help anyone by killing stormtroopers," Kenobi continued, almost pleadingly, pacing forward. "Retribution can only get you so far. If you give in to your anger, you will have learned nothing but what Vader taught you."

The former Sith only stared at him coldly, but inside the familiar words had choked him. "I should have known better than to think you would understand."

And, pivoting, he disappeared outside.

The Rogue Shadow, he was relieved to find, was untouched despite its many hours of vulnerable solitude in the flat desert outside of Anchorhead; in the darkness, it could have been the hulk of a crashed ship, had it not been for the fact that it was intact. Apparently, its remote location, coupled with the local pastime of keeping out of trouble with the Empire, had caused residents to refrain from investigation.

Powering down the Shadow's security protocols with a few deft touches of his hand, Galen leaped onto the boarding ramp before it had even touched down. He glanced back to ascertain that PROXY was still behind him, and in doing so noted suddenly how still the landscape was, the vague shadows sprinkled with starlight. Pushing this revelation form his mind, he strode upward into the craft's interior. It was only once both he and the droid were securely inside that it occurred to him that he had left his robe – his father's robe – behind, in Kenobi's hut.

It doesn't matter, the former Sith told himself harshly, but there was no conviction in his thoughts. He struggled to remember – Kota, the rebels, callously slaughtered by his old master – and the flame leaped up again inside him, searing his heart with its intensity, eager for blood. The anger returned, and it seemed to clear his confusion. His sense of purpose renewed, filled with the strength of emotion, he made his way to the cockpit, seated himself, and fired up the sublight engines.

"Proxy," he asked, without looking up from his work, a slight ripple in his voice the only indication of suppressed rage, "the Corellian Run goes by Tatooine, doesn't it?"

"Affirmative, Master," the droid replied promptly. "Assuming that my analysis of your intentions is correct, I can also say that it is necessary for ships using the route to emerge into real-space for a time in a section of the Run which, incidentally, is only a few minutes away from our present location."

A look of grim anticipation found its way onto Galen's hard features as he sent the Rogue Shadow arching upward through the planet's atmosphere.

As they approached the edge of the hyperlane, he could feel the building pressure of barely controlled fury beginning to rise within him once again. He brought the ship to an abrupt halt, cloaking it.

"Scan for approaching ships."

He was rewarded within moments – this was, after all, a well-traveled route.

"Incoming vessel from the Core," PROXY reeled off briskly. "Imperial shuttle, Lambda-class."

"Excellent," Galen whispered. Lambda-class transports were substantially shielded, but had little maneuverability – an easy target, and most likely carrying Imperial troops or officials.

They wouldn't know what hit them.

With almost detached motions, Galen moved the Rogue Shadow into position, watching through the viewport as the shuttle approached, blissfully ignorant of the fact that the further it traveled, the closer it came to its doom.

Then, when it was almost directly below them, he switched off the cloak and the Shadow swooped down, encircling the victimized craft and bombarding it mercilessly with laser canon fire.

"Enemy craft disabled and crippled," PROXY reported, in a satisfied tone.

"Jam their communications," Galen ordered, bringing the ship about again. "I'm boarding. Then cloak the Shadow again and wait for me." He rose as the droid obediently took the help, maneuvering about the listing Imperial shuttle.

A drum began to pound darkly in Galen's chest.

With startling speed, as though transported there instantaneously, he had entered the enemy craft. His appearance through the smoke and sparks of burned-out systems was greeted by alarmed cries of "We've been boarded!" and "Raiders! Pirates!" He could make out the vague shapes of stormtroopers scrambling about, trying to summon some semblance of order.

Galen didn't intend to allow them time to do so.

His lightsaber was a streak of fluid azure in the confused gloom. With unerring precision and deliberation, he cut down Imperial soldiers on either side as he advanced. One he simply ran through with his blade, and as another charged he kicked out at him before jerking his saber free and severing the trooper's head. Yells and groans echoed from all sides, but Galen paid them no heed as he unleashed his wrathful revenge. A veil of rage had descended upon his mind, blinding him to all but the continuing savagery he now wreaked upon these agents of the Empire. Amidst a field of slaughter, he forced his way into the cockpit, where several more troopers and an Imperial officer were unsuccessfully trying to re-establish communications.

Within moments, they too were only slashed and mangled bodies.

Breathing harshly, Galen seemed to come back to himself as he stood there near the control panel. The bloodlust was still pulsing dangerously through him, not yet sated, still unsatisfied, but with the murders of the last handfuls of Imperials it seemed to have relinquished its control of the former Sith. He glanced around, taking in the scarred surfaces and broken forms. Had he really done all this, so quickly?

Sudden exhaustion overcame him then, and he slumped into the nearest seat, finding that his body was trembling with exertion. He sat as if in a trance, and his shaking became more pronounced, as the enormity of what he had done crashed in like a wave breaking into surf. He had killed a score of soldiers without provocation, in cold blood, and they almost certainly had not been involved in Kota's death. Even while enslaved by Vader, he had hesitated to slaughter the ignorant, the unaware. Now, after this, was he any better than the Dark Lord?

He allowed his head to fall forward into his hands, bowed in anguish. He had intended to do this for Kota, in the name of the old Jedi – but Galen knew that if the general was watching, he would only be sickened.

If you strike him down in anger, you'll be right back where you began.

How true, how foreboding, those words sounded now. And he had thrown them away for a few moments of vicious satisfaction.

How long he remained there, lost in misery and self-loathing, he could not tell. But the slow realization that the vibrations he was feeling were not only being generated by his own body roused him. With an effort, he forced himself back to reality, painful though it was.

"Proxy," he whispered into the comlink at his wrist, "what's going on?"

Only a chill silence answered his hail.

"Proxy? Proxy, can you hear me?" A note of panic found its way into his voice, causing it to break slightly. What could have happened to the droid?

"Proxy!"

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