FORSAKEN - Target: Zero

CHAPTER SEVEN

The vision came through a nebulous haze, dark and cold. A small light became visible, struggling to break through—always distant. Then came the menacing presence, a looming shadow in the mist both unknowable and yet strangely familiar. Two purple shafts shone, but hard as he tried the strikes fail to hit. The shadow grew larger, engulfing everything around, leaving only a void of pain, fear, despair.

"Hey, are you glitching inside there?" Beckett came over the back of the ship.

Sever came out of his trance. He sat in meditation inside his cabin aboard Beckett's ship. The feelings from his vision lingered inside him, clearer than ever before. "What is it?"

"Oh, good. You're alive. I couldn't tell if you were taking a nap or just died on me under that thing. We're here."

Sever followed Beckett to the cockpit. His associates, Val, and the Ardennian, Rio Durant, piloted the starship. They had come out of hyperspace and were headed to a planet bathed in the blood-red light of its single sun. Something stirred inside Sever; something dark. This was no ordinary world.

"Welcome to Dathomir." Rio pointed at the planet with two of his four arms. "Home of the rancors and... nothing much. You know, I heard stories that a coven of witches used to live here. Maybe they killed the Crimson Lady to perform some kind of magical ritual."

"Krayt spit." Beckett sucked something in his teeth with his tongue. "There's no hokey religion that can match a good blaster by your side. Just ask the Jedi."

"What Jedi?" Val said.

"Exactly."

"Well, whatever is down there, is bad enough to get the Crimson Lady in trouble." Rio toggled a few switches.

"You keep calling her that," Sever said.

"You never heard of her?" Beckett gave him another derisive look.

"Should I?"

"Dryden Vos sends her in when jobs go wrong." Val checked her monitors. "She makes problems go away,"

"Yeah, usually in the form of the people who created them in the first place." Beckett rested a hand on one of his guns.

"Boy, was I happy when she saved our asses in Socorro. Remember?" Rio shook his head.

"I try not to."

"We'll drop you off at her last known location." Val tapped at one of her screens, showing a map. "Then, you're on your own."

"No. Drop me off five hundred meters from it." Sever pointed at another area.

"Why? Dramatic walking?" Rio said.

"He's expecting a trap." Val punched in the desired coordinates.

"Always." Sever walked to the back of the ship to gather his things.

Beckett laughed. "You may have no ship, but you're doing just fine in the brains department, pal. Five hundred meters it is."

The ship landed in a clearing by a swamp. Sever deboarded, rifle in hand and hauling his backpack. He spied the silhouette of crooked leafless trees, resembling outreached claws, through the perennial red mist obfuscating the surface of the planet. Translucent bulbs made out of membranes hung from the knotted branches. The place pulsated with the dark sensation Sever experienced as they made their approach.

"Happy hunting." Becket closed the boarding ramp.

The starship departed, leaving the bog in silence.

So, this is Dathomir. Sever had heard of it before, but never imagined he would find himself trekking its surface.

To the untrained eye, the terrain offered nothing of value. But to a tracker, it yielded a wealth of information. Sever enhanced his senses, but didn't pick up anything unusual. Yet, he found eroded signs of an old battle. Judging by the depth, shape, spacing, and position of the tracks, he could tell a band of women had faced a droid army. Sever cleared the dirt around what appeared to be a stone protruding from the dirt, uncovering the head of a B1 battle droid.