On Rhen Var, in the Outer Rim
32 years before the Battle of Yavin
The latest in an endless series of violent snowstorms swirled across Rhen Var's glaciated surface. The blizzard was enough to obscure even goggled eyesight beyond a few meters, but the combination of a homing beacon and the heat signatures of the Jedi archaeologist and his dozen Whiphid laborers allowed the crew of his transport to track his movements.
It was by that method that the Consular-class space cruiser Messenger IX had descended from orbit and precisely located their passenger at the base of the ancient citadel. Despite the urgency implied by their arrival--almost two full weeks ahead of schedule--the Jedi paused only briefly to look up as the crimson-painted diplomatic courier circled overhead on its decent toward a nearby hill. Whatever the present matter was, it could wait, he reasoned. History was his focus.
An ancient structure whose origins were long since lost, the snowed-in citadel was thought by some scholars to be an early Jedi temple. The Jedi Order, for their part, held that it was more likely a Sith tomb. Examining it at last for himself, the Jedi archaeologist tentatively concurred--several aspects of its architecture were undoubtedly similar to mortuary monuments on Korriban, the graveyard planet of the Sith lords.
Not that I'll ever be able to make a direct comparison, the Jedi thought, scoffing at the Order's continued reluctance to grant him access to the heart of the former Sith Empire. Days before departing Coruscant for this expedition, he had made his annual application to study on Korriban, Vjun, Ziost, or any of the historic Sith throneworlds. It had only taken hours for the Council of First Knowledge to deny his request. "Too dangerous," Master Vilbum, the Caretaker, had briskly remarked.
But his intuition told him that he was nevertheless on the verge of a great discovery, or at least a great something. This planet's ice and snow can not keep its secrets forever, he mused optimistically. But was there more to his anxiety than this dig alone? He could not be sure, but neither could he simply dismiss the premonition. It clung to him like Rhen Var's chilled wind.
The planet was known to have once been a fertile paradise filled with vegetation and wild life. An atmospheric cataclysm millennia ago had turned it into a frigid world of frozen tundra and snowswept mountains. After the Great Sith War, former Jedi-turned-Dark Lord of the Sith Ulic Qel-Droma had sought refuge on Rhen Var, and there trained Vima Sunrider in the ways of the Force. Qel-Droma ultimately found peace in the snowy wastes, and was redeemed prior to his murder.
Somewhere on this planet is the site where those two titans of Jedi history lived and trained, he thought. And where one died.
His thoughts were interrupted by the intrusion of a panicked mechanical voice, one instantly recognizable throughout the known galaxy as the fussy call of a protocol droid. Despite his annoyance at the distraction, he couldn't help but be amused--it was just like his crew to send poor Ninepio out into the storm to find him.
“Master Barca! Oh, come quickly! Do come quickly—my joints are freezing up! A great battle has occurred!â€
The Jedi put aside his tools and turned away from the base of the citadel's outer wall to face the snow-covered droid. Although ordinarily conditioned to dismiss the automaton, the seriousness of its last statement was enough to warrant a response. Lifting his goggles and removing the heavy scarf from around his nose and mouth, Wils Barca waved the droid over. "What's all this?"
“Oh, Master Barca! The captain requests you return to the ship at once!â€
The Jedi nodded dismissively, familiar with that exhortation. “You said a battle...?â€
“I am told it was quite horrible--one for your history books! Naboo invaded! And the Jedi--â€
He held up his hand, stopping the droid's overexcited report. Naboo was a peaceful planet with few enemies. In any case, an attack on their sovereignty would be dealt with by the Jedi and the Republic. It was hardly worth mentioning to him. He turned, pointedly ignoring the droid, and resumed his work.
“Oh, Master Barca, please! The High Council has summoned you to Naboo at once!â€
He turned quickly back towards the droid, his eyes narrow. While he ordinarily wouldn't put it past his good-humored Judicial Force crew to conspire to end this backwater assignment early, they knew him well enough to know that fabricating a communique would be too much. “The Jedi High Council? Are you certain?†It seemed a redundant question to ask a computer.
“Yes, sir! You were recommended by the Caretaker of First Knowledge himself!â€
He could have laughed, but settled for a smirk as he picked up his tools. The Council seemed to have a deaf ear when it came to his research, but now his presence was requested because of such research? “All right, all right, Ninepio. I'm convinced--let's go.â€
---
The spearmaster of the Whiphid tribe of laborers and excavators stood watching as his Jedi friend departed, puzzled by a heart-dropping sense of loss as the vessel gathered speed. The Jedi had left him to conclude the day's excavations, tag their finds, and disassemble their camp before a second transport arrived. But alongside the pride that came with this added responsibility, he couldn't help feeling somehow defeated. What was it that was gone? What was it he had felt in the Jedi's presence? Something like safety, he remembered; a sense of protection and certainty. Now it dwindled in the distance with the fast-moving starship.
He felt strangely alone.
