Star Wars: New Age

Chapter 10

The Warden

The word echoed in Jax's mind, not as a sound, but as a feeling—a wave of profound relief, ancient weariness, and a dawning sense of hope that was so powerful it almost brought him to his knees. His own consciousness felt like a tiny boat suddenly floating on the surface of a vast, placid ocean.

Welcome.

He stumbled back a step, the connection breaking as his own shock threw up a mental wall. He looked at his companions. They hadn't heard the word, but they saw the effect it had on him. They saw the luminous figure in the Core turn its "head" to follow his movement.

"Jax? What is it? What did it say?" Kael's voice was a frantic whisper over the comms.

Before Jax could answer, Zana moved, placing herself slightly in front of him, her blaster held at a low ready but not aimed. It was a protective, not an aggressive, stance. "Talk to us, Jax," she commanded, her voice steady as ever. "What's happening?"

"It… it welcomed me," Jax stammered, his own voice sounding foreign to him. He looked back at the being of pure light. He focused, opening himself up again, more cautiously this time. He projected a question, not of words, but of pure confusion. What are you?

The response was another wave of pure concept, flowing directly into his mind. It was a story told in a second. He felt an image of the being in its physical form, one of the slender explorers from the memory log. He felt the merging, the dissolution of its body into the Nexus Core, a sacrifice made to become the guardian. He felt the long, lonely, silent stretch of millennia, a vigil kept in the dark.

[I AM THE WARDEN. THE KEEPER OF THIS SANCTUARY. I AM THE LAST.]

The concepts were as clear as if they'd been spoken.

"It's the last one," Jax said aloud, translating for the others. "From the ship's log. It merged with the Core to… to watch over this place. It calls itself the Warden."

Kael's datapad was beeping frantically. "The energy readings are stable, but the complexity of the transmission is… it's responding directly to you, Jax. It's a true conversation."

Zana kept her focus on the Warden. "Ask it what it wants. Why did it call us here?"

Jax swallowed, gathering his courage. He focused on the Warden again, projecting Zana's question. Why us? Why now?

The Warden's luminous form swirled. The feeling that came back was not of an accident, but of a specific, targeted call.

[THE CURRENT FLOWS THROUGH ALL THINGS. FOR EONS, MY CALL WAS A WHISPER IN A DEAF GALAXY. BUT THE ARRIVAL OF YOUR PEOPLE… SO MANY NEW, BRIGHT SPARKS… CREATED AN ECHO. A NEW RESONANCE.]

Jax understood. The launch of the game. Millions of new minds—new players—logging on at once had created a massive ripple in the Force, an event that had amplified the Warden's faint call, allowing it to finally be heard by someone sensitive enough to notice. The crash wasn't a random tragedy; it was the final, clumsy step of a successful summons. Their ship had been subtly drawn to the one place in the galaxy that was calling for a Force-user.

"It says the launch of the game… our arrival… it created an echo in the Force that let it guide us here," Jax explained. "The crash wasn't an accident."

"So it brought us here just to kill our pilot and strand us?" Zana's voice was sharp with suspicion.

Jax relayed the question, but the response he got was one of sadness, of regret.

[THE VESSEL WAS CRUDE. ITS SYSTEMS FOUGHT MY GUIDANCE. THE RESULT WAS… UNFORTUNATE, BUT NECESSARY. THE HULL WAS BREACHED, BUT THE KEY WAS DELIVERED.]

The key. It meant him. Jax felt a chill run down his spine.

"It says it needed the key delivered," Jax said quietly. "It means me."

The Warden's form pulsed with a new intensity. The feeling it projected shifted from a simple welcome to a plea, a profound request that was the very reason for its 50,000-year vigil.

[THE SLEEP IS FAILING. THE SANCTUARY WEAKENS. THE HORROR WE FLED… IT HAS NOT GONE. IT GROWS. A SHADOW STIRS IN THE DARK BETWEEN GALAXIES. I CAN FEEL ITS HUNGER. I AM TOO WEAK TO RENEW THE WARDING MYSELF.]

Jax's blood ran cold as he relayed the message. Kael looked like he was about to be sick. Zana's face was grim stone.

The being of light raised its shimmering arm, and the feeling it sent to Jax was the most terrifying and consequential of all. It was a question that would define their existence.

[YOU ARE THE KEY. THE FIRST SPARK IN AN AGE. WILL YOU ACCEPT THE BURDEN? WILL YOU BECOME MY HANDS, AND HELP ME DEFEND THE LAST LIGHT AGAINST THE COMING DARK?]

The Warden's psychic question settled over the three of them, a weight heavier than any physical burden. The silence that followed was thick with shock and the sheer, crushing scale of the proposition.

Kael was the first to break, his voice cracking over the comms in a panicked hiss. "No. Absolutely not. Defend the light? Against a 'reality-eating horror'? We're players, not prophets! We have one life! I signed up to explore and maybe get rich, not to fight in some fifty-thousand-year-old cosmic war! This is insane!"

He backed away from the pulsing core, his hands raised as if to ward off the Warden's silent, psychic gaze.

Zana, however, didn't move. Her expression was hard, her mind visibly processing the tactical reality of their situation. "Kael has a point," she said, her voice dangerously calm. "Let's analyze this. What does 'helping' even mean? What's the upside? Our goal is survival." She turned her gaze to Jax. "Does fighting its ancient boogeyman increase our chances or decrease them?"

Before Jax could answer, she posed the more critical question. "And what happens if we say no? It called you the 'key,' Jax. Does it just let us go? Or does the invitation become a cage?"

They both looked at him, waiting. The fear of a terrified scientist and the cold logic of a ruthless strategist. Jax felt the pressure from both sides, but his own mind was clearer than it had ever been. His original plan was to find something valuable. He had just stumbled upon the most valuable secret in the history of the game. The only way to understand that secret, to unlock its potential worth, was to play along. More than that, he had felt the Warden's intent. It wasn't a trick.

"What other choice do we have?" Jax said, his voice cutting through Kael's panic and Zana's analysis. "Our ship is worthless scrap. This being, this Warden, controls everything on this moon. Our survival has been completely dependent on it from the moment we crashed. Maybe helping it is the only real way to survive."

He looked at Zana. "You want to analyze the upside? The upside is we have a guide. We have a powerful ally who controls an entire world and a ship more advanced than anything we've ever seen. The downside of saying no…" He let the thought hang in the air.

Zana's eyes narrowed. He was right. Saying no to the being that controlled their reality was not a viable survival strategy. She had to choose between the terrifying unknown of cooperation and the certain doom of refusal. For a pragmatist, there was only one real choice.

She gave a single, sharp nod. "Alright. We accept the burden." She looked at Jax. "Tell it. But make it clear: this is a partnership. We need things. We are fragile. It wants our help? It has to help us first."

Jax turned back to the luminous being in the Core. He closed his eyes and projected their collective intent, shaped by Zana's hard-nosed terms. We will help. We accept. But we are not like you. We are physical. We need knowledge. We need to be able to defend ourselves. We need your guidance.

The response from the Warden was immediate. A powerful wave of what could only be described as profound, ancient gratitude washed over Jax. It was a feeling of a long vigil finally ending.

[IT IS AGREED. YOUR SANCTUARY WILL BE PROVIDED. YOUR KNOWLEDGE WILL BE GRANTED. YOUR PATH WILL BE SHOWN.]

As the Warden's psychic words faded, the bridge around them came to life. A new, soft chime echoed through the chamber. Across the room, a seamless section of the wall slid open, revealing a corridor bathed in soft, warm light—leading, presumably, to living quarters.

Simultaneously, the three dormant, mushroom-like consoles directly in front of them hummed and lit up. Their dark, smooth surfaces swirled with glowing, white light, which then resolved into three distinct, intricate symbols—the same symbol that was on the main door, but each one slightly different.

They were no longer just blank stations. They were personalized, active, and waiting for their new operators.

The Warden's final thought for the moment entered Jax's mind, clear and resonant.

[THEN LET YOUR TRAINING BEGIN.]

The Warden's declaration, Let your training begin, was not a suggestion; it was a statement of fact, as undeniable as the sudden appearance of the new corridor. The three of them stood frozen for a moment, staring at the newly activated consoles that now glowed before them, each one beckoning its designated user.

Kael was the first to move, drawn to his console like a moth to a flame. As he approached, the swirling symbol on its surface resolved into a breathtakingly complex, three-dimensional schematic of the ancient ship. He could see power conduits, structural supports, and systems so alien he had no names for them.

"It's… it's a complete architectural diagram," he whispered, his hands hovering over the smooth surface. "The processing power… the detail… it's a living blueprint." He finally had data he could sink his teeth into. His fear was being rapidly replaced by the boundless excitement of a technician who had just been handed the ultimate puzzle box.

Zana moved to her console with the cautious, deliberate steps of a soldier approaching a potential bomb. As she stood before it, the light shifted, the symbol resolving into something she understood on a primal level: a tactical map. It showed a schematic of the entire moonlet-station, with their position on the bridge clearly marked. It displayed power levels, atmospheric integrity by sector, and potential structural weaknesses. More than that, it highlighted the location of the sealed main door and other potential access points. It was a security and strategy interface. Her station.

Then there was Jax.

He approached the last console, the one directly in front of the captain's chair. As he drew near, the symbol on its surface pulsed in time with the Nexus Core, and with his own heartbeat. The light resolved not into diagrams or maps, but into a flowing, swirling pattern of energy, like a galaxy in miniature. It was intuitive, abstract, and utterly incomprehensible to anyone but him.

He knew, without a doubt, this was his station. This was the interface to the ship's soul.

He looked from his console to his companions. Kael was already lost, tracing the lines of an energy conduit on his schematic with a trembling finger, muttering about impossible power-to-mass ratios. Zana was methodically studying the tactical display, her mind already formulating defensive plans and contingencies. They had been given the tools that perfectly matched their skills, their minds. They had been assessed and assigned their roles.

Jax turned back to his console and tentatively reached out, his fingers hovering just above the swirling light. He could feel the Force resonating from it, a quiet invitation to connect, to learn, to become the pilot this vessel had been waiting for.

They had descended into the dark seeking answers, a way to survive. They had found a purpose far grander and more terrifying than they could have imagined. They were no longer just survivors. They were students. Acolytes to an ancient power.

Their roles were set. The classroom was open. The training had begun.