THE INQUISITION

STAR WARS - INTERLUDE FOURTEEN
"The Inquisition," written by Chris Stevens and edited by Mark L. Stinson


The Shades that held Vette slammed him to his knees. "This one is practically broken already, Tickens...give me a few minutes...the location of the rebel base in Burrough G-2 will be ours...Ton Kimble and the others...WILL BE OURS."

NOOOOOoooooooooooOOOOOo! Vette let out a long scream...he would not help these creatures...he would not betray his friends. He would fight with his last energies...the last spark in his soul rather than give up any information to these bastards. The Inquisitor's wrinkled gray face bent close to Vette's. "Oh, yes, scream slave...it is what I live for...."


Several horrific hours pass:

Inspector Tickens: "We have the information we need. Send the Twilight Guard to this...this 'Gutter' place. Deploy the corporate troopers. This one is dead."

Targen Netto: "You complete idiot! I said I wanted him alive!"

Inquisitor: "I can't control how....(awwcckk!)"

The Dark Jedi raised his hand to shoulder-height. The Torturer clasped his own throat, in a desparate attempt to breathe. The Shades began to laugh again as the Inquisitor slowly suffocated before them. The anger in Dark Adept's face subsided. His gaze shot to Vette's crumpled and disfigured body. "We could have used him...he's one of us."

Inspector Tickens stepped aside in fear, reaching for his own throat, remembering the actions of a young jedi many years ago.


"Vetan?"

"Yes, who are you?"

"You are home."

"Home? I don't understand?!?"

"It is not your time."

"Time for what?"

"What is it that brings you here? Do you have a message? A Jedi's fire must burn brightly to return home so soon."

"I don't..don't know...I have failed. I have sent everyone into the hands of the Dark Lord. Milos needs help."

Many visions appear to Vette as the Beam of Clear Sight engulfs him. He sees the end to the slave production on Milos, but also the end of Milos itself! But if Milos is destroyed...all the slaves will die...won't they? He sees a weakness in the Dark Side. A disease that has been fostering for hundreds of years. Yes...he can sense it...one of the Dark Side's minions is wavering! His friends are in need of help. Morgan is seen enveloped in flames. Kenai, in full battle armor, is surrounded by Corporate Troopers, battling for his life. Ranar is tempted by the darkness. Quinn is seen battling Marna Jade and is struck down!

"I must go back! They need my help."

"If you go back, you will again be tempted by the Dark Side. Beware of Marna Jade. Her path has been chosen my young one. We do not want to lose you. Go... May the Force be with you."


Quinn gently shook his young friend, "Vette, its O.K. You have to help me get you out of here...please, Vette."

Vette's eyes rolled wildly in his head, and his entire body quaked. He mumbled nonsense at first...gibberish, but finally, Quinn heard and understood words that pierced him with dread. "...I told them, Quinn...I told them where The Gutter is...Quinn...I told them everything...."


In a small dark room criss-crossed with pipes and power conduits...a man with long dark hair stood completely still...his feet spread wide...his hands clenched behind his back. His eyes were as black as his tight-fitting clothes. His skin was pale and he had dark circles beneath his eyes...much too dark for one as young as he.

"Master, the young one is dead...he will not be ours."

A deep disembodied voice whispered from beyond the shadows...from beyond the fabric of WHAT IS. "Targen, you disappoint me. VETAN YET LIVES! Once again, he has slipped between your fingers. Bow to me, Targen!"

The young man in black fell to his knees, his hands still clenched behind his back. His chin rested on his chest. Suddenly the temperature dropped at least 15 degrees in the room, metal supports and pipes groaned and creaked as they shrunk slightly in the cold. "Slave...perhaps you are not up to the task at hand? Do you wish me to send someone to replace you...or perhaps Marna Jade is ready?"

"Master, Vette...and Quinn...they are strong in the Force. And they have powerful friends with them. But I will deliver them to you...I swear!"

The temperature dropped another 20 degrees. Frost began appearing on the metal surfaces in the room, and a thick white mist came from Targen's mouth in clouds as he breathed and spoke. A tall dark figure appeared before him...draped in a black cloak with a bright silver crown upon his brow. "The young one shall join us...one way or the other. And you will personally bring me Quinn's head...or I will have yours." The imposing figure strode forward and reached a ghostly hand out...brushing dark locks of hair from Targen's forehead. "While I love you like a son, slave...there is no room for weakness in my kingdom."

Targen's body shook, and frost began gathering on his black clothing. "I will not fail you Darth Vile."

"See that you don't." The tall figure faded from view, and almost immediately the room began to grow warmer. Targen unclenched his hands and clutched them around his chest...still shivering from the cold. He gritted his teeth, and clenched his eyes shut.

"I will not fail you...."

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