First Reply Shadow Grows

[Aiden Porte]

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The gunship descended through the ochre haze of Geonosis, its repulsors howling as it cut through the dry, dust-laden air. Red sands stretched endlessly below, broken only by the jutting spires of ancient hives and the long shadows of the planet's skeletal mesas. Even through the hum of engines, Aiden could feel the planet, a presence raw and wounded, steeped in the echoes of battles long past. The Force here was not silent; it whispered in uneasy tones, a memory of blood and betrayal clinging to every grain of dust. While under HIgh Republic domain, there was signs of renewal, but it would be long before the scars of the past would heal.

They were still healing.

He stepped from the ramp as it settled, boots sinking into the loose grit. Heat rolled off the landscape in shimmering waves, and his cloak caught the wind, snapping faintly at his side. He had tracked the thieves for three days across hyperspace, following fragments of transmissions that spoke of a relic steeped in corruption — a talisman once held by a cult devoted to the shadowed aspects of the Force. Its trail ended here, amidst the labyrinthine caverns beneath the planet's crust.

Closing his eyes, Aiden reached out.

The light came to him easily, a steady current that flowed through his breath and heartbeat. But beneath it, he felt it a tremor in the Force. Something foul. Ancient. The artifact called to any who would listen, whispering promises of power, of dominion over death. And though the thieves who carried it may not have understood what they stole, Aiden knew well enough the danger of leaving such a relic intact.

He began his descent into the nearest canyon, the rock walls narrowing around him like the ribs of some vast beast. The deeper he went, the stronger the pull became each step heavy with unseen pressure. Faint scorch marks painted the stone, signs of blaster fire and recent struggle. One of the thieves lay ahead, sprawled against the rocks, his weapon still clutched in lifeless fingers. His eyes were open, but there was no color left in them only a hollow reflection of the void.

Aiden knelt, brushing dust from the body. There was no wound. Only emptiness. The artifact was feeding now.

 

[Pal Veda]

Sand, dust, and sun. Rocky formations rising in the distance. Frankly, not much else.

Cut to a Zephyr-G swoop bike racing across the expanse, maximum throttle. The handsome driver’s face was mostly covered — the lower half protected by a shemagh pulled over his nose and mouth, his eyes hidden behind a pair of Rogue Squadron issued sunglasses. He glanced at the map projecting from the small datapad attached beyond the handlebars. The signal was getting stronger. Only a couple more clicks.

The idiots! Pal cursed the crew he was tracking. He’d told them not to go after the artifact. He thought he’d convinced them to abandon the mission. Everything Kumar had told him, all the research he sent him — this was a fool’s errand. Now they were paying the price. And now Pal had probably lost some of his best subcontractors in the process.

He came to the canyons and searched for a path down. It didn’t take long. He parked the swoop, grabbed his small pack, and headed out. Would anyone still be alive? Probably not. With the datapad tracking the beacon in his left hand and the trusty DL-44 in his right, he carefully began his descent, head on a swivel.

Surprisingly, Pal made it barely a kilometer before spotting someone further down the trail. But that wasn’t the source of his signal. Blaster raised, he cautiously proceeded, calling ahead, “Kumar? ’s that you?” He readied his finger on the trigger just in case.


Aiden Porte

 

[Aiden Porte]

Pal Veda
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The canyon walls closed around him as Aiden descended, the heat of Geonosis pressing in like a physical weight. The wind carried with it the tang of dust and iron, the kind of air that burned the lungs and stung the eyes. Yet beneath the harshness of the desert, he could feel it the echo of something unnatural, coiling through the Force like smoke in a sealed chamber.

He paused on a ledge, gaze sweeping over the jagged terrain below. A figure was moving through the canyon human, cautious, armed. Not a soldier. Not one of the thieves. His presence felt sharp but untrained, a blaster-sure mind hardened by survival, not meditation.

Reaching out through the Force, Aiden brushed the surface of the man's awareness enough to sense purpose and fear, but no darkness. Still, the Jedi's hand drifted toward his lightsaber. The artifact was near. It would be calling to anyone who walked within reach of its influence.

He stepped forward, boots crunching over stone as his voice carried across the canyon.

“Kumar? ’s that you?”

"Not Kumar, just Aiden Porte. Lower the weapon."