EXT. GEONOSIS – DESERT – SUNSET
The Condawni are once again travelling on foot, headed due east to put as much distance as they can between them and the unknown parties which got their hunters.
CUT TO
A high ridge which overlooks the flat desert plain. Atop the ridge, hidden from sight of the Condawni, is a PARTY OF TWO-HUNDRED RAIDERS. Like the Condawni, their numbers are made up of individuals of various species, though swaddled head-to-toe in rags and robes to protect them from the cold climate, it’s hard to distinguish most of them.
Looking down at the Condawni through a pair of macrobinoculars is ALAAD T’HAR. An exceptionally tall Bith male, he wears a makeshift poncho of frayed black cloth over his rags and a necklace of small bones around his throat, marking him chief of this raider party.
Putting down the macrobinocs, he turns to face his subordinates. With one silent gaze from him, the raiders proceed to hop atop their parked speeder bikes. As T’har joins them, they kick the bikes into gear and take off, moving down the ridge and onto the open plain in less time than it takes to draw a sole breath.
CUT TO
The Condawni.
Chlorian is at the head of the Condawni, Darth and Mitra walking hand-in-hand beside him. None of the three immediately notice the raiders fall upon their party until the first wave comes upon those in back, shooting them down with blasters or knocking them flat with improvised clubs.
As the whine of the speeder bikes, the screams of blasterfire, and the agonized cries of the injured ring out through the frigid, arid air, pandemonium breaks out. The raiders quickly deal with those who try to put up a resistance, leaving the remaining Condawni to scatter, bolting like hundreds of scared little rabbits for places of safety. The raiders, better coordinated then their prey, run circles around the Condawni, corralling them.
As Chlorian tries to liaison with the other leaders of the camp to formulate a hasty escape plan, Darth scoops Mitra up into his arms and makes a break for a gap in the circle of bikes. Running as fast as his legs and his burden allow him, Darth manages to escape through the gap. T’har sees Darth and Mitra make their break for freedom. Quickly unslinging a bolas from around his chest, the Bith steers his bike towards the two children, spinning the bolas in the air as he makes his approach run. Barrelling down upon the two children, he releases the bolas. The weighed cord strikes home, wrapping fast around Darth’s ankles, knocking him off his feet, pinning Mitra under him.
CUT TO
The aftermath of the attack.
Several raiders are busy at work butchering the carcasses of those they killed, harvesting the meat and packing it away in sacks. As for the others, they have locked the surviving Condawni in chains and secured them to their speeder bikes, ensuring their prisoners will be forced to walk the long way to the raiders’ camp.
While Darth and Mitra have been fastened close together, they aren’t in the same chain gang as Chlorian. Chlorian, sporting a red bruise over his right eye, is fastened to a speeder bike well away from them.
As the distant sun of Geonosis slips under the horizon like the red eye of a cyclopean giant closing, the long trek begins.
INT. CORUSCANT – HOVERTRAIN – EVENING
Seated aboard a car on a military hovertrain are Obi-Wan Kenobi and Wilhuff Tarkin. The officer and non-com sit on opposite sides of the car, facing one another.
The lieutenant commander stares at the Jedi, scrutinizing him, dissecting him as it were with his flinty eyes.
LT. CMDR. TARKIN: You’re Obi-Wan Kenobi. I know of you; you were the Jedi Knight who participated in the Alderaanian Incursion.
OBI-WAN: I was, yes. Were you there, Cmdr. Tarkin?
LT. CMDR. TARKIN: I’m afraid I wasn’t. I have familiarized myself with records of the battle.
OBI-WAN: You’ve taken an interest in my exploits, Commander?
LT. CMDR. TARKIN: Not inordinately. My attention rather is centred on Capt. Bail Organa.
OBI-WAN: Really? Why Bail?
LT. CMDR. TARKIN: I served under the captain for a time. You may say my tenure left me curious towards the man.
OBI-WAN: He impressed you.
LT. CMDR. TARKIN: No.
OBI-WAN: (cocks an eyebrow) No?
LT. CMDR. TARKIN: Don’t misunderstand; I have the utmost respect for the captain and his leadership ability. However, I do find his technique … wanting.
OBI-WAN: Wanting in which way?
LT. CMDR. TARKIN: He is entirely too pacifist. A flaw he inherited from his mother, I’m sure. (beat) I have studied his battle plans, scrutinized them many times over, carefully; I found that in most instances he could have achieved cleaner victories had he taken more … assertive approaches.
BAIL: Bail doesn’t feel obliged to take lives unnecessarily – not even the lives of clones.
LT. CMDR. TARKIN: A modus operandi which may one day prove self-defeating.
INT. GALACTIC CITY MEDICAL CENTRE/WAITING ROOM – EVENING
Having come to the Galactic City Medical Centre, Obi-Wan and Tarkin enter a waiting room; it is nearly empty save for THREE DUROSIAN JEDI: Sev Beral, his nephew Teyf, and his son JANO.
SEV BERAL: (smiles) Knight Kenobi!
OBI-WAN: (grins) Knight Beral!
The two knights shake hands.
SEV BERAL: You remember my nephew, Teyf.
OBI-WAN: (nods to Teyf) Of course. Hello, Teyf.
TEYF BERAL: (bows his head) Master Kenobi.
SEV BERAL: (gestures to Jano) This is my son, Jano. You didn’t get to meet him the last time.
OBI-WAN: It is good to meet you, Jano.
JANO BERAL: (bows his head) And you, Master Kenobi.
OBI-WAN: We have much catching up to do, Kenobi….
LT. CMDR. TARKIN: (interrupts) Which you may do, Sergeants, on your own time.
At their commanding officer’s stern request, the Durosian Jedi and Jedi Knight-errant put an end to their discourse for the time being.
INT. GALACTIC CITY MEDICAL CENTRE/OPERATING ROOM – EVENING
A medical ‘droid leads Tarkin, Obi-Wan, and the Berals inside, where they are all directed to four medical slabs which stand upright side-by-side. The Jedi lie back against the slabs.
JANO BERAL: Is this all really necessary?
LT. CMDR. TARKIN: Do the Clonemasters have your DNA on file, Private?
JANO BERAL: Course not, Commander.
LT. CMDR. TARKIN: Then don’t ask asinine questions. To walk amongst clones you must become a clone.
Taking two hypo-syringes filled with cosmetic nanites – one for the Human, the other for the three Duros – the medical ‘droid injects the four Jedi Knights. It takes a few moments, but soon the nanites begin working their magic. Writhing in agony, the four Jedi transform – Obi-Wan into a man with sandy brown hair; the three Duros into identical olive-green Neimoidians with orange eyes. They all wear barcodes upon their foreheads.
TEYF BERAL: (to Jano) You look awful.
JANO BERAL: (pushes Teyf) You’re no belle of the ball, yourself.
LT. CMDR. TARKIN: Report back to barracks and get some sleep. We’re due for the spaceport at 0500 tomorrow. (to Obi-Wan) Clones don’t sport long tresses or facial hair; have it shorn.
OBI-WAN: (runs a hand through his now-brown hair) Shame.
EXT. SPACE – THULE
The Slipstream emerges from hyperspace. Before the ship rests the mottled gray, brown, and blue sphere of the planet Thule.
INT. SLIPSTREAM/COCKPIT
Anakin is with Dahlia in the cockpit, the ex-Jedi seated in the co-pilot’s chair.
DAHLIA: Thule. (contemptuous) If there’s a foul, stinking armpit to the universe, this place is it.
EXT. THULE – HUROM – SPACEPORT/TARMAC – DAY
The Slipstream has landed. Loading hatch extended, Dahlia steps out into the open air, Anakin tailing her. From all appearances, it appears the spaceport grounds haven’t undergone any serious maintenance in forty or fifty years, if not longer. The duracrete is cracked and uplifted in numerous spots, with long grasses and weeds growing up through the cracks.
DAHLIA: It’s gonna take some time unloading the crates. Go into town. If you’re gonna be staying, you’d best get a lay of the land. I won’t leave before you get back; promise.
Anakin decides to follow the Pantoran’s advice. Nodding once to her, he leaves to explore the capital city of Hurom.
EXT. HUROM – STREET – CONTINUOUS
Anakin explores the streets of Hurom. The city itself is in as grievous a state of disrepair as the spaceport, with thick moss hanging heavily from the sagging rooftops and the street cobblestones lying uneven/upturned upon the ground. The cityfolk don’t appear to be in any better condition; undernourished and sallow, dressed in stained, threadbare clothes which haven’t been in fashion since the pre-Clone War years, there isn’t a soul amongst them under the age of fifty.
Brushing off the advances of an aged prostitute bearing what appears to be a full-body rash, Anakin finally comes to the heart of Hurom. Rising up from the ground there, ancient in the days when Hurom was young, is a temple. Built with blocks hewn from black basalt, pyramidal in shape, the distinctive characteristics of Sith architecture are plainly evident.
INT. SITH TEMPLE/ATRIUM – DAY
Slipping inside the temple, Anakin enters the temple. Kneeling on the floor in the centre of the atrium, bathed in the blue-green light streaming down through the dark opal skylight overhead, are DOZENS OF PARISHIONERS. Dressed in robes of black sackcloth, they prostrate themselves before a statue of green-black stone. The statue is of a monstrous deity of vaguely anthropoid outline, but with an octopoid head, a scaly body, prodigious claws on hind and fore feet, and long, narrow wings behind.
Walking in amongst the parishioners, Anakin approaches the statue. Opening himself to the Force, he reaches out. There is power here. It is very weak, very faint, with no intelligence malign or otherwise behind it, but it is present all the same. It draws on the feeble life-force of the parishioners, the other cityfolk, the settlement itself for sustenance, keeping itself alive if just barely.
One of the parishioners lunges at Anakin, taking hold of his leg.
PARISHIONER #1: You! The Power! You reek of the Power! (buries face in Anakin’s leg and inhales sharply) Intoxicating! (beat) What are you? Are you of the god?
The other parishioners begin crowding around Anakin, feeling him up, smelling and licking him for a taste of what their comrade finds in him.
PARISHIONER #2: I taste nothing!
PARISHIONER #1: (angry) You wouldn’t, Enak, you dessicated, senseless fart! (licks Anakin’s knee) He is saturated with Power! He is the god!
The parishioners gang up on the ex-Jedi now, eagre and desperate to know their nebulous god in the flesh. Overwhelmed by the experience, fearful of what extremes their zealous affection will take them, Anakin breaks away from these pathetic remnants of Humanity and runs out of the temple.
INT. SLIPSTREAM/MAIN CORRIDOR – DAY
Having returned to the Slipstream, Anakin finds Dahlia waiting for him in the main corridor. Leaning against the bulkhead, arms crossed over her chest, she greets him with a wry half-smile.
DAHLIA: Was your trip downtown edifying?
ANAKIN: (uneasy) Very.
DAHLIA: You didn’t sample the local cuisine, I hope.
ANAKIN: Local cuisine?
DAHLIA: About sixty years old, with an advanced case of Bothan redrash. I believe she goes by the name Necca.
ANAKIN: (nonplussed) NO!
Dahlia laughs at his expense. It’s mocking, spiteful laughter – not at all pleasant or wholesome.
ANAKIN: There must be other towns, other settlements ….
DAHLIA: A few farms. Maybe even a manned weather station or two.
ANAKIN: You’re telling me that is the only substantial settlement on this entire planet?
DAHLIA: Kessiak used to have a modest population, but it was left in ruin in the last Clone War. I don’t believe anyone’s lived there in the years since.
Anakin shakes his head with disbelief.
DAHLIA: Akira, listen. I’ve come to a decision. I’ll take you the whole way to Korriban.
ANAKIN: I thought you didn’t want to run the risk with the pirates in the area.
Approaching Anakin, Dahlia runs her finger along his jawline.
DAHLIA: What can I say? I’ve always had a soft spot for men with large, hard (glances at his crotch) chins.
ANAKIN: (blushes) Are you certain you want to do this?
DAHLIA: (shrugs) You’re welcome to stay on Thule. A month’s rent in the city’s about 900 credits; I can front you that much. Of course, two-third’s of the city’s empty, so you could always hole up in one of the abandoned villas. (beat) There aren’t many jobs available, but you’re young and healthy; there’re men who’d pay good money to make use of your strong body. (winks) I’m sure if you save up your creds, you can pay for off-world passage in … oh … seventy years. That’s if you find a pilot willing to fly you into Sith space ….
ANAKIN: We don’t have seventy years. (beat) Take me away from this place, Ms. Karin.
DAHLIA: Aye-aye, Mr. Valor.
EXT. SPACE – THULE
The Slipstream makes the run for the edge of the system.
INT. SLIPSTREAM/COCKPIT
Anakin encodes a series of hyperspace coordinates into the navicomp.
ANAKIN: There is no direct route to Korriban. (points at five spots on the star chart) We’ll have to make stops here, here, here, here and here before we reach the Horuset system.
DAHLIA: Yeah, and any one of them could be teeming with pirates.
ANAKIN: (smiles wryly) You’re welcome to stay on Thule. A month’s rent in the city’s about 900 credits; I believe you have at least that much.
DAHLIA: (tosses a stylus at his head) Blow it out your airlock.