A note from the authors:

Welcome to the second installment of The Skywalker Legend: Before the Dark Times, our rewrite of the Star Wars prequel trilogy!

Returning readers, we're so pleased to have you back. New readers, we strongly recommend that you read the first volume of this trilogy, Star Wars Episode I: The Looming Force, before proceeding. While broad aspects of the universe remain the same, you'll find that the characters and situations in this story are very different from their movie counterparts. Also recommended, although not necessary, is The Skywalker Legend: Fragments: Part One, a collection of short one-shot fics that bridge the gap between the two episodes.

We'll be updating daily for our first several chapters, before slowing down to twice-weekly chapters every Monday and Thursday. That said, without further ado, enjoy Star Wars Episode II: The Shadow Within!

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. . . .

STAR WARS

Episode II

THE SHADOW WITHIN

The galaxy has been torn in two. The CONFEDERACY OF INDEPENDENT SYSTEMS, a former terrorist group now backed by a board of corporate leaders, will not rest until it has seized control of every civilized world from the Galactic Republic.

The separatist movement grows bolder by the day. Hit-and-run attacks on outlying star systems have grown into coordinated campaigns against major worlds. As the war drags on, independent systems find themselves forced to take sides, either turning over assets to the hungry Confederate war machine or trusting in the Republic's defense.

Rumors spread that even the Jedi, mysterious guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy, are spread thin in an attempt to deal with the ever-expanding conflict. Though those who believe look to them for hope, the Order are increasingly strained in their ability to protect the citizens of the Republic and beyond. Planet to planet, sun to sun, the CLONE WARS have found their way to every corner of the galaxy. . .

Chapter One: First Things

Cradled by the pinpoint light of hundreds of distant stars, a blue and green sphere floated through the infinite black of space. The garden world's continents of forest green and earthy brown were set into crystal blue oceans; wisps of white streaked across the atmosphere, trailing from the planet's equator all the way to its jagged polar ice caps. City lights shone brilliantly on the half of the world that was cloaked in darkness—hues of sunset danced along the vertical line separating day and night.

It would have looked like something from a galactic tourism poster, were it not for the targeting overlay bracketing the globe's image.

A longing sigh escaped the mouth of Lieutenant Nalus as he enjoyed one last look at the world pictured on the viewscreen. Blinking twice, the spacesuit-clad human shoved his targeting computer display out of the way and returned his hands to the control yoke of his starfighter.

Nalus was nestled in the most cramped space he'd ever been in—the transparisteel sphere of a Confederacy tri-fighter. The globe-shaped cockpit of the craft was surrounded by three curved arms spaced equally apart, each housing an engine at the rear and a blaster cannon at the tip. The sphere, mounted in the center, was capable of freely rotating within the three-arm housing of the tri-fighter—though Nalus found the gyroscopic cockpit disorienting, and had chosen to turn the feature off the moment he'd sat in the pilot's chair. He found flying with the cockpit locked in place to be far more comfortable—a small mercy, considering the fighter was designed for everything but comfort.

The CIS had built the craft for clone pilots—the skull-faced math genius Givins, mostly—but something his superiors would only refer to as a "staffing issue" had seen Nalus jumping into the cockpit of one of the tri-fighters. He had been told he would be given command of the Confederacy's Hades Squadron. Upon his arrival in the fighter launch hanger, however, he'd been greeted with slightly different news. They were to launch as a scouting party—a single flight of three fighters—and make a short hyperspace jump to the world of Paalnet.

Three goddamn starfighters, he thought to himself as he stared at the idyllic planet before him. How are we supposed to capture this place with three fighters?

Nalus knew better than to think that was the extent of the plan. It was practically a certainty that some form of backup would show up once they'd broken into the atmosphere—but the fact he was being kept in the dark gnawed at the back of his mind. The clones followed orders as they received them, never asking for a bigger picture. He wanted to know why they were doing this this way, but his superiors had given him instructions as if he was nothing more than a damn wetwork.

Doesn't matter, he scolded himself. He was getting to the battlefield first, and that meant an opportunity to shoot down some Republic scum before anyone else. He reached up and toggled his cockpit comm on. "Fighters, form up on me," the lieutenant said, putting on his best squadron leader voice. "Make a full burn for the atmosphere on my mark. . . now."

Whipping her LAAT into a tight enough turn that the port gunner could bring his laser pod to bear, Lianna whooped. "It's a good day, folks!"

"Will you shut up and steer?" said gunner, Yllef, snapped back. "You're gonna crash us before the battle even starts."

Though she knew he couldn't see it, Lianna stuck out her tongue and deliberately dipped the gunship just a hair lower, hovering a few feet above the tree line. Running patrols on a jungle planet wasn't the most thrilling job for a pilot—she'd take her excitement where she could get it.

The scenery was nice, anyway, she had to admit. Paalnet's planetary rainforest was soaked to the core with moisture, the trees shining a constant, vibrant green. It was almost like flying above clusters of organic jewels, their peace disturbed every now and then by a nighthawk zipping up into the sky before diving back down. The lone breach in this canopy for miles and miles was the capital city of Lapis, whose spires reached juuuust higher than the forest's tallest specimens, as if the people who'd built it had something to prove. It was an eyesore, but an eyesore than Lianna and her fellow gunships had been tasked with watching—if the CIS came knocking on this planet's door, the rest of the hyperlane's gatekeepers were sure to follow.

And the knock on the door had just sounded.

Swearing, her port gunner snapped off a beam of emerald laser fire, shearing the top off one of the trees and missing the clone bogey entirely. "Aren't those, like, legally protected?" Lianna asked over her comm. "You're gonna get slapped with a fine when we get back to base."

"Bite me. Those things are fast."

"Well, we'll just have to show them fast," the pilot said, pushing forward on the throttle. "Let's see if we can get close enough for a missile lock."

This was one of three scout fliers that had entered Paalnet's atmosphere out of nowhere a few minutes ago, breaking their formation and hurtling off in separate directions as soon as the Republic LAATs had spotted them. Lianna, who'd spent the previous hour idly watching for nighthawks, had taken a few moments to even be sure this was real. Once sureness had slipped over her, she'd started smiling and hadn't yet stopped.

"Delta Base to Nighthawk 2," crackled over her comm. "How goes pursuit?"

"He's a quick little bastard, command, but we've got him. Any other ships waving hello up there?"

"We've got a few frigates, nothing the Venators up there shouldn't be able to handle once they swing over from the moon. Stay focused, now."

"Aww, but I want to hear about the space battle," Lianna said over the local comm to her two gunners, then swapped back to the base channel. "Copy that, Delta Base," she said, and tilted the LAAT enough for the starboard cannon to take a shot.

Starboard laser fired, missed by a hair. "If I didn't know better," Lave, the starboard gunner, said, "I'd say you were making us miss on purpose."

"Aww, Lave, you know me better than that." Looking down at the red dot on her sensor screen, the pilot felt her smile turn into a satisfied smirk. "Buuut, now that you mention it, I do believe we're close enough for a missile lock." As she throttled forward harder, she flipped a switch on the control board, exposing the big red button she hadn't yet used once outside of the simulators. "Let's light 'em up."

As if overhearing this, the clone bogey made a sudden move, wrenching itself upward and back for the sky. Lianna centered her thumb over the missile launch control, said, "Dodge this," and fired.

A few seconds later, shrapnel rained down on the trees.

Beaming, she switched back over to the general channel. "Delta Base, we've got one bogey down, changing course to help squadron mates—"

"Cut the chatter, Nighthawk 2!" command snapped. "All units, REPEAT, we have a large object emerging from hyperspace. Does not appear to be a capital ship of any known origin. Energy signature suggests massive firepower. Firebrand, Vigliance, give us a status update—"

"Geez," Lave said over the local channel, "they sound worried."

"Ahh, it's nothing the fleet can't handle," Lianna said, twisting the LAAT to a new course. "Let's go help Delta Leader out."

The adrenaline coursing through her made everything seem just a bit brighter, more vibrant. The canopy's green popped against the sky's deep purple with almost painful beauty, and as the gunship finished its turn the glittering metal spires of Lapis came into view, shining with the light of the planet's sun. Despite the sealed cockpit, Lianna swore she could feel a cool, sharp breeze washing over her face, refreshing it—

"Lianna," Yllef suddenly said, his normally irritated voice filled with an emotion the pilot couldn't place. "What is THAT?"

"What's wh—" she began, but then she glanced upward and saw something at the edge of the sky.

All thoughts of the other bogeys forgotten, the pilot whipped the gunship upward, angling the viewport to better see what was happening above them. The purplish-blue sky had suddenly been filled with a new sun—a dazzling, painful-to-look-at spot of crimson that was almost like a wound of color opening above the planet. As Lianna stared, the gunship's viewport polarizer dialing higher and higher to avoid damage to her eyes, that spot grew brighter and brighter.

"Um," she said, a wave of overwhelming terror inexplicably welling in her voice, "Delta Base, what the hell am I seeing—"

Then everything blew apart.

One moment, Lianna was looking up at that cancerous spot of brightness in the sky—the next, the LAAT was flipping end over end, and everything had gone white, the viewport polarizer worse than useless, and both gunners were shouting at her through the local comm so that she couldn't make out what either was saying. Over everything was a massive, unbearable roar, as if some supernatural creature had torn into the rainforest without warning.

The LAAT whacked something hard, and Lianna pulled up frantically on the stick, and finally the glare started to die out just enough that she was able to steer clear of the tree line. "Yllef, Lave, report!" she screamed.

"I'm okay, Lianna," Lave's voice said through her earpiece, "but I think Yllef . . . well . . ."

Sick, the pilot turned her head far enough to port to see a twisted flap of metal where the cannon used to be.

"Lianna—oh gods, Lianna, look."

Still fighting to level the gunship, she dismissed this, staring down at the control stick in her hand. We'll go down and look for him, he probably ejected before it happened and now he's sitting in the trees somewhere—

"Lianna, LOOK."

She forced herself to raise her head and look through the viewport.

What she saw obviously couldn't be real.

Where the spires of Lapis had once stood, there was now—nothing. A crater in the ground the size of a whole city, ringed with burning trees where blast had set fire to the rainforest. Everywhere, nighthawks were rising into the sky, fleeing their nests in droves and flying for—what?

"Delta Base," Lianna choked into her mic, checking and checking and checking again to make sure that she had the general channel open.

There was no response.

For the longest time, she simply kept the LAAT hovering, staring at the hole in the ground where five minutes ago a city full of millions had been. Lave said nothing; she said nothing. It's a horrible nightmare, a sizable part of her brain thought, that's all it really is.

Then her comm buzzed.

Relieved at this proof that her senses must have been lying to her, Lianna punched in her acceptance. "Delta Base, what is going on out there—"

"All Republic forces, this is Vice Admiral Jast Derleth of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Your capital city has been destroyed, and our weapon will be ready to fire again within twenty minutes. You have that length of time to determine whether you wish to surrender. If you refuse, another city will be chosen for annihilation. I trust you will make your decision speedily."

With that, the comm clicked off.

Lianna hovered. And watched. And hovered some more, her eyes flitting from nighthawk to nighthawk as they continued to rise into the sky.

Twenty minutes later, she stood down as she was ordered to.

THREE MONTHS LATER

Getting appointed the commander of a city-killing weapons platform seemed exciting on paper. In practice, Yill Forthos had found, it mostly entailed a lot of fiddling around at her command console and waiting for the higher-ups to assign her a target.

Sure, it had been lovely when they'd blown Lapis to kingdom come—even from orbit, the display of firepower had been awe-inspiring. Forthos still thought about it at odd times throughout the day—the flare of white light, the ring of burning trees visible from space, the stunned silence in the Republic commander's voice when he communicated their surrender. Having such power at her fingertips, under her direct command, was . . . intoxicating.

But that had been months ago, and since then they'd had exactly two other targets, both of which surrendered as soon as they'd emerged into the planets' gravity wells. Forthos supposed that having two whole systems surrender without a shot being fired was impressive, but it wasn't the right kind of impressive. Not after that first display.

"Ma'am."

Idly, she turned to see an engineering ensign standing behind her. "Yes?"

"Maintenance on the port nacelles has finished ahead of schedule. Pleased to report that they're now restored to full capacity."

Nodding, then brushing at the strand of blonde hair that fell into her eyes with the motion, Forthos waved her hand. "Very good. Dismissed, ensign."

"Yes, ma'am."

Well, that distraction had taken a good few seconds away from her day. Only several thousand left to go. Letting a small sigh escape—inaudibly, it wouldn't be good to give her bridge crew the impression of boredom even if they were mostly clones—she turned back to the viewport, gazing out into the star-dotted blackness of space.

"Ma'am."

The voice was just different enough for her to know she wasn't suffering from deja vu—this was the communications chief, not an engineering crewmember. "Yes?" Forthos asked, without turning from the viewpoint—wouldn't be worth the effort, most likely.

"We're being hailed. The ship's transponder isn't CIS."

A sudden flare of interest roused the commander, and she turned to look her comms chief in the eye. "Republic?"

The crewmember shook her head. "Seems to be a civilian craft."

Forthos felt some of her intrigue start to dim—probably just a freighter that had wandered off course or something of that nature—but anything would be a welcome distraction from the nothingness that was her day. "Patch them through."

After a few moments, a hiss of comms static emerged from the console. "Unidentified vessel," Forthos said, straightening her posture and putting what she hoped was just the right commanding ring into her tone. "This is Commander Yill Forthos of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. What is your purpose in contacting us?"

The voice that emerged from the comm was curiously modulated—almost as though it were artificial rather than organic. "I've gone fishing lately, and I think I caught something the Confederacy might be interested in taking off my hands."

Forthos frowned. "Specify."

"With permission, I'd like to dock with your station. Once I have, we can talk business."

"And what business do you have that could possibly interest us?"

The next sentence sent a thrill up Forthos' back that was almost—almost—as good as the one she'd felt priming the startup sequence on the gun above Paalnet.

"I've brought you Kenobi and Skywalker."

Republic Archives: Low Altitude Assault Transport

The Low Altitude Assault Transport, often referred to as a "LAAT gunship," is an atmospheric troop and personnel transport vehicle used by the Republic Defense Force. Developed by Rothana Heavy Engineering, the vehicle is capable of ferrying two dozen passengers and carries mass-driver missile launchers and a nose-mounted laser cannon. Additional laser turrets can also be affixed to the outer hull of the transport.

Massive doors along each side of the carrier allow for quick entry and egress of passengers through a large opening nearly half the length of the ship itself. Pilots often fly their LAAT gunships with the doors open; to prevent those on board from falling out the side of the ship during aerial maneuvering, a LAAT is capable of generating its own weak gravity field.

Though the most commonly seen variant of the LAAT is an infantry transport, there also exists a cargo version of the vessel designed to carry armored walkers and cargo crates into battle. Additionally, Rothana Heavy Engineering briefly manufactured a fire and rescue variant of the LAAT and sold it to Coruscant Emergency Services. Though this variant of the vehicle is no longer available for purchase, the water-cannon equipped LAATs can still be seen ferrying firefighters and paramedics across the Republic's capital world.