The Pale Father voice slithered through the chamber like a venomous snake as I turned to face General Trax, a man cloaked in black armor, his cold eyes sharp and calculating, hiding a simmering resentment beneath their icy surface.
What does he want? I asked, my voice steady but edged with impatience.
Trax's gaze flickered to the holoprojector's flickering image of a desperate man, hollow and broken. A smirk tugged at the corner of Trax's mouth, barely concealed. Larnous, he said slowly, savoring the name like a bitter taste. A filthy rat poisoning our supply lines in Coruscant. Smuggler, traitor, and His eyes snapped to mine, cold and sharp, a stain on your record, Commander. The Emperor demands his swift elimination.
He leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. You wouldn't want this little pest undermining your rising reputation, would you?
His words were a knife coated in ice, and I could feel the subtle venom behind them Trax's pride bruised by my favor with the Emperor, his ambition tangled with envy.
Prepare my vessel, I said, masking the tightening in my chest. Send me his coordinates.
The man's voice shattered, trembling with raw fear and hopelessness. How did you find me? Please… of all places, why Coruscant? Lorenzo, I beg you spare me. His eyes, wide with terror, darted toward the trembling figures huddled behind him, his wife clutching their children, whispering fragile lies to soothe their broken souls. "My family is starving. They have nothing left.I stared at him. My eyes glowed like molten fire, cold and unyielding. Guilt gnawed at the edges of my mind, but the Emperor's decree was absolute. "The Pale Father demands your death, Larnous. Traitors deserve no mercy.With a cruel flick of my wrist, the dark red blade of my lightsaber hissed to life a burning, ruthless flame cutting the suffocating shadows of that wretched chamber. Larnous screamed, firing his blaster wildly, desperation dripping from every frantic shot but none dared to touch me. I was death made flesh, a shadow slipping through his trembling world. You cannot run. You will die here tonight, Mr. Larnous. You will pay for your betrayal. His wife sobbed, clutching their children tighter, desperate to shield them from what was coming. "Keep my family out of this," he begged, voice cracking under the weight of inevitable doom. "They deserve better than this… But my demand was final. I looked down to see the crimson blade buried deep in his chest, slick with blood that oozed like ink from a wound torn open. His body convulsed once, twice, then stilled, lifeless and broken. Behind me, the agonized cries of his family echoed — raw, piercing, unforgettable. "You're a monster, the children wailed. Why did you kill him? Their screams clawed at my soul, but the cold shadow of duty smothered any flicker of mercy. The blood on my hands was permanent. I was the Emperor's executioner.
The holoprojector crackled, casting flickering shadows that seemed to swallow the room. The Pale Father presence loomed larger than life, a suffocating darkness pressing into every corner. It is done, I said, my voice hollow, the words tasting like bitter ash in my mouth. And the family? The question hung heavy, a poison waiting to seep in. I hesitated a heartbeat too long. Erase them. His command was absolute. "Let the galaxy remember what becomes of traitors. I hesitated. A heartbeat too long. I turned. The children clung to their mother's shaking arms. Please…" she whispered. My saber ignited, humming low like a vulture's breath. I told myself it wasn't personal. I told myself it was duty. I told myself a lie. Red light painted the walls the color of death, the blood, and of a soul slipping into darkness..
The cold steel walls of my quarters offered no comfort. I stared at my gloved hands, still stained with the blood of innocents. I tried scrubbing them clean, but no matter how hard I washed, the stain remained. Every time I close my eyes all I can see is the boy's eyes again. Lorenzo: You don't belong here, I destroyed you and left you for dead. The boy replied You're only killing yourself, you spent your whole life fighting for freedom, fighting for what is right. But you choose to become a slave to The pale father. Lorenzo: I choose power and oppression. The boy: no you choose to become you choose obedience, you become a weapon for a man who will die. Lorenzo: Enough I brought order, I exposed the lies of the jedi and destroyed every one who turned against me. At what cost your brother die at your hands left to on dathermer and everyone you knew and loved has left you for who you truly are. So was Lorenzo, was it all worth it? Lorezno: ignited his crimson red blade and stuck at the boy as swiftly as the wind, but this time he never screamed. He just turned and looked at me. Lorenzo: open his eyes, sweating on the floor, breathing heavily. The boy's words resented Lorenzo making him question if at the end what all was worth it.
A transmission crackled through my holoprojector. General Trax's voice, precise and razor-sharp as ever, cut through the silence. Commander Lorenzo. Subject X-113 is secured. Captured during our sweep of Raxus Prime. Mandalorian. Dangerous. Unbroken. Just as you predicted. He let the words hang in the air, savoring them like a victory already won. Shall I bring her aboard your vessel personally? Or… would you prefer I begin breaking her spirit myself? No, Trax. Bring her to me. I'll speak with her… myself. Even I could hear the exhaustion bleeding through my words. Tired of orders. Tired of blood. Tired of pretending this still felt like victory. General Trax replied Your doubts make you weak, Lorenzo . But don't worry... when you fall, I'll ensure your death serves a greater cause. I stepped from my quarters, the weight of my sins pressing against my chest like armor I could never remove. The air felt heavier than before, each breath a reminder of what I'd done — and what I might still become. I watched from a distance the troopers escorting the Mandalorian through the docking bay. She was shackled and bruised but I could not sense any fear.
I emerged from the shadows, my boots echoing sharply on the cold metal steps as I descended into the sterile corridor where she was held. The fluorescent lights flickered erratically overhead, casting long, uneven shadows that danced across the walls like ghosts. The stale air was thick with the metallic scent of machinery and something fouler — sweat, fear, and resignation. "Subject X-113," I said, my voice low and steady, trying to hide the knot tightening in my chest as I stepped closer. She shifted slightly in her chair, the faint scrape of worn leather against metal sharp in the silence. Her eyes locked onto mine — cold, piercing, like shards of ice that threatened to freeze the very breath in my lungs. "You're the Emperor's puppet," she said, her voice slicing through the quiet like a knife, steady but laced with contempt. I forced a bitter smile. "And you're the unbroken Mandalorian," I replied, letting a shadow of weariness seep into my tone. The weight of everything—loss, regret, the blood on my hands—pressed down on me like an invisible shroud. I leaned in, letting the question hang heavy between us. "Tell me, Lorenzo, what makes you so certain you'll survive… when so many before you have failed?" My voice was softer now, almost uncertain, as if asking myself more than her. Her gaze never wavered. In that moment, I saw no fear, no hesitation—only a fierce, unyielding fire that ignited something raw inside me. It was like staring into a mirror, but one that reflected a path I'd already turned away from. "Because I fight for something greater than fear," she answered, voice steady as a heartbeat, unwavering. I felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat. "And what is that?" I asked, eyes darkening. Her lips curled into a cold, mirthless smile. "All you do is the Emperor's dirty work. You're a slave wrapped in chains forged by your own blindness. When he's done with you, he'll discard you — just like he did with your brother." Her words hit me like a physical blow, burning deep. My fists clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms. The metallic taste of anger flooded my mouth. I slammed my hand on the cold steel table, the reverberation echoing like a thunderclap in the small room. "Keep my brother's name out of your filthy mouth, you scum. He was a good man. Nothing like the Emperor." The words were sharp, desperate — a fragile shield against the pain twisting inside me. She didn't flinch. "True, Lorenzo. Before the Emperor took him away, he was a good man — a man who helped millions across the galaxy." Her voice softened, a flicker of something almost human breaking through the steel. I swallowed hard. The memories came flooding — laughter, sacrifice, the weight of his sacrifice. I was suffocating under the ghosts of my past. "You know you can always join me," she said, voice low, almost a whisper now, but filled with dangerous promise. "Fight for what's truly right." I shook my head slowly, every breath a ragged struggle. The faces of the millions I'd killed flashed before me — innocent, pleading, lost. "It's too late for me," I murmured, voice cracking. "I've killed millions. I'm beyond redemption." The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating, like the calm before a storm. Without another word, she rose, the scrape of her boots sharp against the metal floor. Her presence filled the room—commanding, unyielding. As she passed, her voice was low, almost gentle. "There's a rebel ship in orbit. We came for data — not war. You're not the only one questioning which side you're really on." She paused just long enough to let her words linger, heavy and dangerous in the stale air. "There's always time to change. But you have to decide before they decide for you."I watched her leave, the cold sting of doubt crawling beneath my armor, settling deep in my bones. The corridor felt colder, emptier — as if the ghosts of my choices were closing in, whispering of the darkness yet to come.