Chapter Text
The stairs seemed to be never-ending. Even with the support from the droid and the hoverchair, Paz's upper legs and butt sang with the pain of the their descent. He tried to slow his breath and thank his body for the information. He recognized that, as of late, there had been too many sleepless nights, too many skipped workouts, and this was a natural consequence, not a punishment.
And yet.
With every step the pain grew. And, with it, his irritation.
He was irritated at himself.
He was irritated that they had been so easily caught by a small group of droids led by a stupid-looking golden head.
He was irritated at the universe in general.
Paz felt a hate for all gods, great and small. It wasn't fair, their power over him. Over what he knew to be right and true. His team... his friends... Even Hod Ha'ran with his stupid laughing face. While the gods were laughing, Din and his team had tried to protect their people and look where it got them. Death in a dark pit under soil and rock.
His feelings grew and grew, metamorphosing itself through emotional heat and pressure into a simmering ball of anger deep in his chest. It spread to his spine and down into his gut until he felt as if he had become a firestorm caught in a net of flesh and armor. His arms trembled, shouting back at his brain to do something, anything. There were, perhaps, one or two remaining coals of rationality within him that had not caught fire. These cold parts of his mind chastised his limbs and reminded him that his anger was blinding, that Din would not be able to finish the fights that Paz so badly wanted to start. However, as they descended, even those parts were slowly thawing and starting to glow...
By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, Paz breath was shallow and he was covered in a layer of sweat just think enough to saturate his clothing, making it cling to his skin. He looked around, irritated even more by the heavy darkness and his dependence on the whims of the few droids with electric torches. The small taps and clanks of the droids echoed back at them from the unseen ceiling high above them. From what Paz could see, they were in a flat, open space covered in the same, ever-present dust. The slight give of the ground told him that the ground was hard-packed dirt instead of stone. A beam of light from one of the droids passed over some shape in the middle of the open space. Paz squinted, trying to see what it was as they made their way towards it.
Paz turned to to the dark, unmoving shape of Din in his hoverchair. To the shape Paz muttered, "There's something in the center. We're walking towards it now."
"Calm yourself, Paz," Din replied, his breath more of a wheeze of wind than his normal rumble, "You sound like an ox in heat. Besides, your greatest weapon is not your physical strength.”
Paz let out a great breath through the grill in his helmet.
“There,” Paz replied, “I’m calm. What is my greatest weapon, then? My mouth?”
Din gave a short, weak laugh, "Now you are just being contrarian."
"Perhaps I am," Paz muttered.
Their captors drove them forward. From what Paz could tell, the group was walking towards the center of the chamber. As they walked, the sweeping lights of the droids began to glint off of some sort of reflective surface. They drew closer and the small bursts of color began to resolve themselves into two stone arches, each column perhaps twice the height of Paz and three times his thickness. The two arches were next to each other so that, if one stood between them, it would look like the person was between two hills.
The convoy halted and their captors spread the council in a loose oval around the two arches. Glowbulbs were set in the area between the council and the arches so that everything was illuminated with a dim, blue glow. Their captors placed Din, Bo, Paz, and Axe, the latter still holding the golden head, all on one side of the oval. They looked, to Paz, like some sort of ancient cult as imagined by a teenage holo-novelist. With the extra light, Paz could not see that each arch appeared to be composed of many different types of stone stacked tightly together, like the pieces of a puzzle. He could not see any sort of glue or cement between the rocks.
Despite the beauty, or perhaps because of it, Paz felt his anger burst inside him once more and he silently vowed that, if he were killed by this enemy today, he would not be defeated. He would return to haunt them. Perhaps he could bide his time in these realms of ‘nospace' that Luke talked so passionately about.
"Now," the golden head began, “The Darksaber and the Sicarius Crus must both be returned to the Mandalor. He must walk through the right arch as he focuses on the crystal within the dark saber. However, the Mandalor must be careful not to focus too fully on the crystal.”
Bo looked to Din, who nodded and sat up slowly. He then held out his hand.
“What is that even supposed to mean? Paz protested, “Besides, he’s too weak. Let me help-"
As Paz stepped towards Din's hoverchair, one of the droids from the other side of the circle raised his rifle. Paz held up his hands.
"Ok, ok," conceded Paz. He felt the sheath of Luke's bone sword shift on his back and wondered if the droids behind him cared about the golden patch Luke had affixed to it, smiling at nothing and yet mocking them all.
Paz slowly took a few steps back so that he was once again part of the circle, "It's just... how do you know it's the right arch? If we had approached from the other direction… well… wouldn’t the other arch be the right arch?"
There was a silence then. All life, organic or machine, seemed to freeze for a moment. Paz had the feeling that the droids were furiously arguing with each other in a language far beyond the organic's comprehension.
"He's right," the machine behind him suddenly croaked. The sound made Paz almost jump out of his own skin, but then he froze when he heard the chef's metallic fingers clicking on the settings of the laser rifle in the droid's hands. Paz was not familiar enough with the weapon to know if the droid was increasing or decreasing the power of the weapon. The droid behind him continued speaking, "The arena is perfectly equal on all sides. Four staircases in the cardinal directions, eight entrances, two drains... Even the arches are symmetrical, a perfect mirror. There is nothing to indicate a preference for either side."
“Well, then, what do you suggest we do?" asked the golden head.
There was another silence. It was a sharp silence.
Paz began to laugh then, deeply, softening the silence into something more pleasing. Something… organic. Perhaps, if an ox had vocal cords, they would laugh in just such a way.
"You don't know, golden one? I thought you had this all planned out. You are about to end the universe and, yet, you can't even decide which of your magic arches to put a crystal in? It's a simple choice, a stupidly simple choice. It tells me that maybe you are just like us organics. Maybe there is more to the universe than even you can understand."
"Be quiet. My model is perfect. There is a solution to everything. I simply need to reconnect with my counterpart. You must take me-"
"No," replied Paz coldly, "You interrupted our meeting. Clearly, time is short. You need to do this now or it will all be for nothing, right? You must make a choice. Which arch do you choose?"
"Quiet, everyone," shouted the head, "There is a solution here. I need-"
Suddenly, the world exploded in light as a single shot from behind Paz tore the golden head out of Axe's hands. Axe screamed and fell backwards as the blackened head flew through the air and hit one of the arches before rolling to a stop in front of it. Paz quickly leaped forward and crushed the blackened shell under his boot. There was a secondary crunch as something inside gave way. Part of Paz wondered if he should try to roll or dive away from the possible retaliatory fire from their captors, but the rest knew he was too exposed. But that didn’t matter now.
He felt a hand clench his forearm and pull. He let himself be pulled back, stepping off of the golden carcass and away. Other hands found him. Organic hands, patting him on the back and muttering positive things his mind was either unwilling or unable to answer. He glanced around and found Bo, but her eyes did not meet his. Instead, they were fixed on the remains of the golden head.
Paz took off his helmet and simply breathed for a moment, his head spinning from all that had happened in the last few minutes. His eyes refocused on Bo as she slowly step up to the blackened carapace.
"What, what is it?” he called to her, “I can't see... can somebody..."
The world seemed to move as half-pace. The figures, council members and droids alike, converged towards the head like an ocean being slowly sucked towards a void. Only then did Paz realize that the droids had lowered their weapons. Some had even set them down and left them in the dirt.
"Quick thinking,” said a voice next to Paz.
Paz looked around and found the council member. He patted Paz’s armored forearm, “How did you know the right and left arches would confuse the droids?”
Paz, shook his head, “I didn’t. The Mandalor just told me to do what I am best at and… well… I’m great at being an ass… and talking out of it as well…”
The old man snorted, “We all have our strengths, I suppose. And it is a great leader that knows when to use those strengths.”
They were quiet for a moment and then the old man spoke again, “So the whole ‘right and left arch’ question… is not real?”
Paz frowned and looked around them. The moving crowd blocked much of the light from the glowbulbs. All he could see was a great darkness above them, the dirt below, and the two arches... no, eyes... staring at them from the middle of the arena.
“It wasn’t all from my ass, if you excuse my phrasing. Well, at least, I don’t think so. We are in the domain of Hod Ha'ran. Our old trickster god... ‘the fickle nature of fortune’. We must simply pick one. I suspect either arch would have worked or perhaps neither one does. I think… I think it’s a coin toss."
The old man was quiet for a moment and then he nodded, "Wise words, for one so young. I should not have opposed your addition to the council. I did not think you knew of the old ways."
"No, you were right. I only happened to read about Hod Ha'ran recently... I suppose I was lucky. Who knows... we might be still be defeated by this new attack by the Empire. It might all be for nothing."
"If we are to honor Hod Ha'ran, then I would venture to say we must accept his trick. That is, we must accept the outcome either way, no matter what happens."
Just then, a figure burst between them and nearly collapsed. The old man and Paz both grabbed onto the Mandalor as best they could to keep him upright.
"Mandalor, you must sit-"
"Show me," Din ordered, his face red from overexertion, creating an odd medley of colors over his bruised face. His eyes were half-lidded, as if he might pass out at any moment, but Paz simply nodded to the old man and they led their stumbling leader over to the remains of the golden droid. The crowd quickly parted when they realized what was happening. Paz glimpsed Axe over to one side, his hands being treated by a medical droid.
The last droid stood aside and they saw it. Bo was crouching beside the crumpled, half-burned head. One eye and the mouth area were crushed and, from the blaster holes and rips in the sunken metal-flesh, the impossible was happening. The droid was bleeding. The blood was dark red and appeared to be coming from inside the head.
Paz' breath caught in his throat. "It's like your dream," he managed, "But... but how is that possible? And who's blood is...?"
Din slumped a little more and Paz tightened his grip around him. He looked carefully at his brother, but Din did not look back. Instead, the Mandalor stared at the dying golden head, something like a mix pain and resolve on his face... or was it resignation? He had Paz turn him to the nearest droid. It happened to be the cooking droid that had helped Paz down the stairs.
"Did you know?" Din asked the droid bluntly, “About the blood?”
The droid shook their head, "To be honest, sir, I'm not sure most of us would have followed if we had known. To be offered a chance at freedom is one thing, but this... to mix with the organics? Many droids would consider that one of the ultimate taboos.
"How... what was the plan?"
"We were to wait until the portal was opened by you, Mandalor, and then eliminate everyone else in the room. Then we were to transport you and the relic through the portal, across the nexus, and to the waiting starship.
"Starship?" asked Paz.
"Yes, the Executor."
"How is that possible?" blurted Paz.
The droid turned to him and seemed to be considering something for a moment.
"Would you like me to explain it in mathematical terms or metaphor? I only ask because often a biological's grasp of the higher dimensions-"
"Metaphor, please," growled Paz.
"Have you ever made a coin purse?" asked the droid.
Paz just stared at the droid blankly.
"You cut a circle of cloth," continued the droid, "And you hem the edges, so it will not fray. The last think you do is take a blunt needle to weave a piece of string through the edge. The needle, sir, is something very strong and sturdy. Something with meaning that will pull a string along.”
“Something with meaning… you are saying that the needle is a relic?” asked Din.
The droid nodded, “Exactly, Mandalor, although that is yet another metaphor for the objects true shape and purpose.”
“Which is?”
“Like I said, I only truly describe it in mathematical terms,” replied the droid patiently.
“It doesn’t make sense…” muttered Paz. He began to turn himself and Din away when the droid held out their arm.
“I was not finished,” the droid said.
Paz turned back, but, before he could do anything more, Din tightened his grip around his brother and squeezed.
“Let the droid finish, Paz,” Din wheezed, “I know you are angry. We all are… organics and droids alike. But now we need each other to stop whatever is going on and… and rescue Luke.”
Paz felt himself deflate once again, his nerves singing on their split ends. Some deep part of his brain growled at him to do something, to take control. As his body calmed, he realized that the others, organic and droid alike, had turned to watch the exchange. Paz took a careful step back from the droid, widening the circle. His steps and Din’s shallow breaths echoed from far above. He saw Bo on the other side of the circle. She gave him a silent nod. Paz then asked the droid to continue.
“This relic, this needle, has been weaving itself through the universe. It needs only to complete its course and the string of hope and memory to be pulled tight. Now, imagine, you can pull it tight with the cloth facing one way or pull it tight with the other way. You can think of this inverting coin purse as the creation of the new universe."
"And what happens to the rest of the universe?" asked Din.
"You don't understand, Mandalor. The coin purse is the universe. The rest of the universe simply ceases to exist and effectively never was. The suffering of the droids would have been erased... forever."
“So…,” interjected Bo, “You would erase yourself and your brethren for a few droids in this new universe to be free?”
The droid shrugged all six of their shoulders, the plasteel creaking a bit, “I don’t see how that is different from how we live now.”
Everyone was silent for a moment.
Paz tried to push the new thoughts aside. It was as if a great metal poker were stirring the hot coals of his soul and he couldn’t decide whether he should burst into flame again or let what was left burn itself out inside him. The droids… so much unseen suffering… it was everything the Mandalorian people had fought against. He had simply never thought… As if in response agreement with Paz, he felt his brother slump against him. The last flames of Paz’s resolve extinguished themselves and he was simply a body covered in cold sweat.
“I am… so tired…” mumbled Din, “It’s us, Paz. We caused the pain. All of us…”
Paz knelt to let Din rest on the hard-packed earth for a moment. From what he could see his brother was, if anything, paler than before. The great circles under Din’s eyes seemed even more pronounced and the bruises around his face and arms appeared to be a sickly blue-green under the low light.
Paz’s eyes caught the movement of feet as someone stepped forward, into the middle of their impromptu huddle.
“What is your name?” he heard Bo ask the droid he had just been talking to. Bo’s voice strong, like a bell sounding it’s first ring in the morning. Paz silently thanked her for stepping forward, but literally and figuratively.
“My designation is COO-736.”
“Is that what you would like to be called?” asked Bo.
“Ah, no. My, uh, dream name is Melora,” replied the droid slowly.
“Well, Melora, I believe that the Mandalorian Consortium owes the droids a great debt, both for all the work you have done for our peoples and the protection of our Mandalor just now. We will have many conversations in the future, no doubt. But, for now, I believe we have a common enemy.”
Paz looked up at the droid. For a moment, none of the droids, who were scattered among the council, moved. A few of the Mandalorian council stepped back, as if expecting an attack. Bo did not move, she merely continued looking at the droid, Melora, and waited.
“What are we waiting for?” whispered Han.
They were in a small corridor, grey matte walls and recessed ceiling lights making it look like every-other corridor they had gone through. For all his knew, the droid was leading him in a maze to nowhere. Perhaps it was some sort of Empire interrogation tactic. Or a punishment. A way to drive him slowly insane.
The silver droid did not bother looking over at him as he spoke, “We are waiting for a distraction.”
“A distraction? What type of distraction?” asked Han. He realized just then that his mouth felt dry and tacky… and his eyes itched. He flexed his hands, moving then from his belt to his chest and then down again. Without his blaster, he felt incredibly exposed. He might as well have been naked.
“I’m not sure,” the droid admitted, “Something to do with the temple.”
“Temple? What temple? You mean on this ship?”
“Yes, that is what I mean.”
“I did not know that the Empire built temples in space.”
“What do you think the Death Star is?”
“A big gun?” guess Han.
The droid, R2, shook his head. “It is far much more than that.”
“Oh, so does every Empire ship have a temple?”
“No,” replied R2, but he didn’t say anything more.
“So… what are we waiting for?”
“We will have to wait and see. If we get any closer, I will be unable to fool the sensors. If only you were able to suspend your oxygen intake…”
“Surely the Empire has vacc suits,” Han replied, “You reprogram the transmitter so that I look like a droid and then we can get closer, right?”
The droid turned his silver head towards Han, “And if the suit is punctured, what then?”
“If it’s beyond the self-sealing abilities of the suit, I suppose I die,” Han replied shakily, “But it’s the best chance we have, right?”
The droid seemed to think a moment and then turned his head again, “I suppose you are correct. I am only disappointed I did not think of it first. Come, this way.”
Han nodded, though the droid had completely turned away from him at that point and was leading him through yet another matte gray corridor.
Paz was ready this time when the droid, Melora, suddenly moved again. Her four lower arms, two on each side, ended in the classic flat, bulky knives of a kitchen droid. The knives were perfect for chopping and slicing, but little else. The knife-arms seemed to relax a moment and then they suddenly swung backwards at what a humanoid would call an elbow, neatly folding into the back of the droid in a very un-elbow-like way. The movements were closer to how a beetle might secure their wings under their keratin carapace. Melora’s two upper arms had the same spindly appearance as the knife-wings, but each one ended instead in a hand-like grasper composed of a thumb and three fingers. Both graspers were now empty, their weapons holstered at the hip and leg, respectively. Melora looked around the circle of droids and Mandalorians with their single eye. The eye flickered, as if lit from within by a candle, as Melora turned back to Bo.
“As you are acting-Mandalor, we accept your offer of alliance, if that was your meaning. The droids of this planet do not wish to be associated with the betrayer,” Melora stated, gesturing to the crumpled face of C-3PO, dark red streaks beading on top of the gold. The ground beneath the droid seemed to have fully soaked up the blood, leaving only a dark, irregular circle of wetness under the misshapen head.
Bo nodded and tried at a smile, “Yes, that was my meaning. Now, what more can you tell us about the needle. It is the Sicarius Crus, is it not? How do we stop this weaving and erasing of time?”
“That is an easy answer. You destroy both weapons now, the Darksaber and the Sicarius Crus With those key items gone, the ritual cannot be completed. The universe will remain.”
“No,” shouted Din, “We do that and the Emperor will torture Luke forever. He will be there… every time I dream…”
The droid turned to look down at Din, who sat on the ground, almost slumping into the earth in his exhaustion.
“It is a small price to pay for the safety of the universe, Mandalor, is it not?” asked Melora.
Din began shouting then. They were incoherent, like those of a toddler. His cries echoed up into darkness of the great chamber, the empty skull of Hod Ha’ran. Paz quickly knelt again and wrapped his arms around his brother and squeezed, slightly rocking his brother back and forth, like he used to do in the workhouse. He stroked Dan’s hair and, when the shouting began to die down, instinctively made those indistinct noises of comfort that seem to calm so many of us in our moments of greatest pain.
“Wait, Din. Wait,” mumbled Paz. He turned to look up at the kitchen droid, “Melora, I understand your point of view, but what is to stop the Emperor from attacking us once he realizes that we have killed his agent and the metaphorical keys to his existence? There will be nothing to stop the Empire from waging war with us.”
“We can handle a war, Paz,” Bo replied, “We’ve fought before.”
“But how many… how many droids will join their side? The odds have changed, Bo.”
Bo crossed her arms and looked over at Melora, who tilted her head to one side as if thinking. At length she replied, “The odds are in favor of the Empire. Even with the revelation of the betrayer, we estimate that more droids would still join the Empire than the Mandalorians. There are many factions… many reasons to join one side or the other that we do not have time to discuss.”
“It sounds complicated,” agreed Bo.
“Oh, almost incalculably so. The politics of droids are orders of magnitudes more complex than organics. With this new revelation and promised autonomy… perhaps there has never been a more complicated political system in the galaxy.”
“I don’t get it,” Axe interjected, stepping forward, towards Melora, but addressing everyone in the small circle. He had been silent up to this point, his eyes rarely leaving the crumpled, bleeding head of C-3PO. He carefully cradled his blaster-burnt hands, the red flesh swelling at the palms, where he had helped the golden head, and charred on the backs of his fingers in an odd, striated pattern where the blast had hit them directly. It must have hurt like hell, but the only sign he gave was a slight sheen of sweat on his face. “Why would the droids side with us at all? Why should they trust any of us? They should… you know, just go. Get out on your own. Leave us to our wars.”
Melora turned and nodded at Axe, their eye dimming a little, “While we appreciate your sentiment, Axe, it would be unwise for us to disengage from organics at this point in time. Many of us have attachments to organics. To demand all droids to withdraw from their masters, no matter the moral, ethical, or legal situation, would cause even more factions to emerge within the droids than there already are.”
He nodded and then stepped back again, trembling a bit. A council member put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.
Bo looked around the circle and took a deep breath, “Ok, organics and inorganic alike, I appreciate the discussion so far, but we need other alternatives what else can we do.”
There was silence then. It was so heavy that Paz almost missed Din’s final words, though he still held his brother in his arms.
“Paz, whatever you do, you are going to have to do it without me,” Din whispered, “I’m too weak… I don’t know if it’s sleep… or more…”
Paz shouted and slapped Din across the face, but he only groaned and lay his head back into Paz’s chest.
He thought then about shaking his bother, but suddenly Axe and Bo were both there, pulling Din away from him, settling him back into the hover chair. Only then did it occur to Paz that he still had the old beskar helmet, now set on the ground. And he still wore the chest plate… the gauntlets. Luke’s bone sword was still strapped to his back. No one had asked for it yet. Perhaps that was for the best.
Paz picked up his helmet and stood slowly, letting the blood equalize before he spoke.
“What if we take the fight to them?” he asked the group, “We pretend that the plan worked. Din will open the portal and we will go through this nexus or whatever it is to the ship. And we destroy them from the inside-out.”
Bo shook her head, “How can Din open the portal? He’s not even conscious.”
“Maybe he only has to be awake for a moment. Focusing and not focusing, right? Maybe all he has to do is hold the thing as I carry him through the portal.”
“Now you are just making things up,” protested Bo.
“It’s more of an educated guess,” countered Paz, “ We don’t have time for anything else, right Melora?”
Melora nodded, “Your suppositions are consistent with our observations. From what data we gathered from the 3PO unit, the Empire has no alternative plan. They are dependent upon these two relics. It is a weakness we can exploit at the cost of only a few individuals.”
Paz put the helmet back on his head, “Any droids that wants to come can go with me. And, once we are there, we will kill the Emperor or destroy the entire ship."
Melora nodded again, “A simple plan, but… I am fairly certain I can recruit a fair number of droids on the ship. I will stay with you while the others prepare the ship for destruction. This puts our odds close to even with the Empire, given what information we have. Our strengths are useless against force-users… perhaps that is what the 3PO unit was trying to overcome.”
“If we free Luke, then we will have a force-user on our side,” replied Din, “It… it could work. It could really work. We just need to make sure to destroy the Sicarius Crus before whatever ritual needs completing is completed. Does that align with your math?”
“Wait,” interjected Bo, “I’m not letting you go alone. The likelihood of you coming back…”
“Is not great,” agreed Paz. He looked down at Din, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully on the ground, “But it’s that or watch my brother go mad as the Empire continues to gain in strength… and I know that Din and I are leaving the Mandalorian Consortium in capable hands.”
He looked up again at Bo, who was silent for a second. Then she slowly nodded and her hand moved to her belt. She unclipped the Darksaber and handed it to Paz. He looked down at it, testing it’s weight and examining it from all angles.
“You looked surprised,” observed Melora.
Paz grunted, “It’s just… every time Din holds this weapon his posture changes. He told me that, even deactivated, it feels like the energy of the weapon is coursing through him. But I… I don’t feel anything.”
“I don’t feel anything either,” admitted Bo, “Guess we are not special like your brother.”
“I wouldn’t frame it that way,” interjected Melora, “The force… it is a curse more than anything. A cheat code for you organics, if you take my metaphor. The consensus among our kind is that force users are like children with weapons, easily swayed by emotion and likely to kill rather than keep the peace. Count yourself lucky.”
Paz didn’t know what to say to that, so he simply grunted again and then bent to pick up Din. He placed the Darksaber in Din’s limp hands before carefully picking him up. Even in Paz’s exhausted state, Din felt disturbingly light. There would be a great deal to heal in both body and mind after all of this was over.
He approached the gates, forgetting to say goodbye to Bo and Axe, his attention focused only on Din. On his The droids assembled behind him. Paz approached the same one that the golden head had ordered Din to go through. He didn’t know why… it just felt correct. As they approached the arch it began to glow.
“He’s not even awake,” remarked Melora from his right side.
“Yes,” agreed Paz, “We don’t really know what we are doing, do we?”
“No, we don’t,” confirmed Melora.
There was nothing more to be said. Nothing more to do. And so Paz stepped into an arch. He felt the ground under him give way and so, with the last bit of purchase under his heels, he lept. An image fell into his mind then, as he flew. A smiling golden face. Hod Ha'ran laughing. Then the face flipped as if it were a coin and on the other was Hod Ha’ran again. Howling and crying. Two sides… two eyes… and the god didn’t even have the decency to let the coin settle on one side or the other before vanishing into a black void of nothing.
From somewhere in the nothing, Paz heard something growl. It almost sounded like a wookie.