Chapter 2: The Iron Graveyards
The Varkesh shuddered violently as the heat shields slammed into Jakku's atmosphere. Through the cockpit, the planet looked nothing like Tatooine. Where Tatooine was alive and teeming, Jakku was nothing but an open-air corpse.
"Looks like the galaxy came here to die," Noah murmured, his hands gripping the flight controls.
Maylan didn't answer. He was staring at the sensors. Below them, the landscape blurred past: russet sand dunes torn apart by metal blades several kilometers long. These were the remains of the battle that had ended the Galactic Civil War. Broken Mon Calamari cruisers, TIE fighters scattered like crushed insects, and above all, the giants.
Suddenly, the sun was blocked out. A massive shadow engulfed the ship.
"The Ravager," Maylan said in a hollow voice.
The Executor-class Super Star Destroyer lay on its side, half-swallowed by the desert. It was a mountain of steel, a carcass so vast it created its own microclimate of shadows and cold drafts. Thousands of men had died inside. Now, it was nothing more than a mine for the most desperate scavengers.
"The 'Black Bounty' coordinates send us right behind the main reactor," Noah indicated, adjusting his sensors. "But May... the signal is unstable. It's like something is jamming the frequencies."
The Silence of the Dead
They touched the Varkesh down in a rocky crevice, a kilometer from the site. Stepping out, Maylan was struck by the wind. It wasn't the warm breeze of Tatooine, but a metallic whistle, heavy with a grey dust that tasted of iron.
Noah pulled out his long-range sniper rifle, checking the thermal scope.
"I'm taking the high ground on that ridge. If things go south, I've got you covered. And don't worry, I've got the stew on a slow simmer in the galley. We'll eat a hot meal when we get back... if we get back."
Maylan nodded and began his approach. He slipped between rusted armor plates, his vibroblade ready to be drawn. The silence was absolute, broken only by the groaning of metal structures shifting under the heat.
Arriving at the crest of a dune overlooking a service entrance of the Ravager, Maylan froze. He signaled toward Noah's position, invisible further up.
Below, in the middle of nowhere, there was movement.
These weren't scavengers. Their movements were too coordinated, too military. Maylan used his macro-binoculars. Through the lenses, he saw silhouettes that were familiar, yet strange.
Stormtroopers.
But not those of the First Order. Their white armor was caked in dried mud and soot. Some plates were held together by salvage cables or scraps of leather. They wore no unit insignia, only the marks of wear and savage survival.
"Noah, you see them?" Maylan whispered into his comlink.
"Five... no, eight 'bucketheads'," Noah's voice replied in his ear. "They look like they're searching for something big. They've got military-grade ground scanners. Looks like they're digging for a vault."
Maylan observed the officer directing the maneuver. It wasn't Commander Voss, just a sergeant with haggard features, barking orders to speed up the excavation. They seemed nervous, as if they feared someone—or something—might surprise them.
"They're not here for the bounty," Maylan realized. "They're here for what the bounty was trying to sell."
Suddenly, one of the soldiers' scanners emitted a sharp whistle. The Stormtroopers stopped dead. The sergeant approached a gaping hole in the sand, shining his flashlight into the darkness.
"We found it!" the soldier shouted. "The data module is intact!"
Maylan felt his blood run cold. If these remnants of the Empire laid hands on that information, his chance of finding his sister would vanish with them.
"Noah, get ready," Maylan said, flicking the safety off his blaster. "We can't let them leave with that."
"Copy that," Noah whispered. "Target locked. Just tell me when to start the show."
Maylan prepared to spring. Jakku's doomsday backdrop was about to become a battlefield once again.
Noah had his finger on the trigger. Through his scope, he could see sweat beading on the Imperial sergeant's forehead. But just as he was about to squeeze, a sharp hiss tore through the sky. It wasn't the scream of a classic TIE fighter. It was smoother, more modern.
A transport shuttle with aggressive lines and obsidian-black plating landed heavily in a cloud of dust, just meters away from the Imperial group.
"Maylan, don't move," Noah breathed into the comlink. "We've got company. And they don't look like they're here for scrap."
Heirs of the Void
From the shuttle descended soldiers whose armor shone a pristine white, almost insulting amidst this planetary junkyard. Their helmets were more streamlined, their blasters more compact. It was the First Order—still a rumor to many, but a terrifying reality for those who crossed them.
An officer with a rigid gait stepped forward. His black uniform bore not a single grain of sand. He stopped in front of the grimy Imperial sergeant.
"Sergeant," the officer began, his voice amplified by a synthesizer. "Your time has passed. The Empire you serve is a corpse being picked apart by worms. Join us. The First Order is the only future for this galaxy."
The Imperial sergeant spat on the ground, a spark of defiance in his tired eyes.
"We don't serve fanatics hiding in the Unknown Regions. We serve order—the real kind. Not your parody of a regime."
The First Order officer tilted his head slightly, a gesture of chilling politeness.
"Very well. Since you prefer to die with your ghosts..."
Fratricidal War
It was a massacre. The First Order soldiers opened fire with surgical precision. The "old" Imperials, despite their experience, were outmatched by the technology and ferocity of these newcomers.
Hidden behind his slab of metal, Maylan didn't move, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"Do we intervene?" Noah asked, his voice tense.
"No. Let them kill each other," Maylan replied. "We aren't paid to choose between two tyrants."
The skirmish was brief. The First Order officer inspected the bodies but didn't seem to find what he was looking for. He cast a contemptuous look toward the ruins of the Ravager before re-boarding his shuttle.
"We will return with drilling teams," he barked to his men. "Leave this graveyard."
The Forbidden Object
Once the shuttle departed in a roar of turbines, silence fell over Jakku again. Maylan emerged from his hiding spot, vibroblade in hand, and approached the corpses of the Imperial soldiers.
Noah joined him, rifle slung over his shoulder, looking grim.
"What were those guys? They looked like stormtroopers fresh out of a luxury factory."
"The future," Maylan murmured. "And it isn't bright."
He began searching the Imperial sergeant. The man was still clutching a reinforced briefcase, even in death. Maylan forced the lock with the tip of his blade. Inside, there were no credits, no launch codes.
There was an object the size of a fist—a sort of crystal carved from a deep, blood-red stone. As soon as the lid opened, an oppressive aura seemed to fill the air. It was as if the temperature had dropped ten degrees. The stone seemed to pulse, a dull vibration resonating in Maylan's bones.
On the inside of the case, a handwritten note, dated a few days prior:
PROPERTY OF THE EMPIRE - SITH ARTEFACT. URGENT DELIVERY TO COMMANDER KAELOR VOSS. DO NOT OPEN WITHOUT PROTECTION.
Maylan snapped the briefcase shut, but the unease lingered.
"Kaelor Voss..." Noah repeated. "If Voss is looking for Sith stuff, we're not in a simple bounty hunting gig anymore."
Maylan looked toward the horizon, where the First Order shuttle had disappeared.
"We have what they all want. And now we know Voss will do anything to get it. Let's get out of here, Noah. Back to the Varkesh."
As they walked away, Maylan couldn't help but feel the weight of the briefcase. It wasn't just metal and stone. It was an invitation to hell.