Luxum had been working for only a few minutes, but finally his task was nearing completion. He knew that the Iron Order had detected his intrusion into their system, though they weren't yet sure what he was doing. The young Jedi was dimly aware of Mologg's efforts with the pair of Shard security officers, but his focus remained on the task at hand, a task of great importance.

Finally, the last file was uploaded to the relay hub, and Luxum was ready.

Initiate.

Across the world of Orax, within dark caves and narrow valleys, along mountain sides and flowing streams, the heart and soul of the Iron Order―the millions of “pure” Shards who had never left their colonies―were inundated with a new wave of sense-experience, and suddenly the Iron Order knew.

Just as years before the remains of the Orax Exiles had shown their pure brethren the meaning of war and death; Luxum now enlightened them with the meaning of starvation and theft, of occupation and deception, of power unchecked and unaccountable purpose. Luxum showed to them the true face of the Iron Order, and all their ignorant ideology came tumbling down.

The leaders of the Iron Order had chosen power over purpose and deception over truth. Now the masses of that same Order would make them accountable.

Luxum pulled away from the relay station, the senses granted to him by his own droid body returning as the torrent of the Shard network faded away, and he heard:

“. . . and see what fate befalls you!”

Luxum turned toward the pair of humans, little more than a dim glow in the Force, and stretched his hand toward them, imparting to the motion every bit of his will. The nearest of them was pushed by some unseen power into his counterpart, and as the first fell to the ground, Mologg struck. She jumped forward, all but throwing the weapon in her hand, grabbing it's end and driving it into the standing human's hand. Suddenly the apparent safety of a few meters distance was shattered, and the blaster went flying out of the man's hand.

Mologg pounced on the humans, knocking the latter down and grabbing the former around the throat, pinning both of them beneath her considerable weight.

“Mologg, get behind me,” Luxum commanded, and the Drackmarian turned a wary glance to the Shard. “We won't be fighting our way out of this,” he informed, waving at the sound of approaching sirens, “and a pair of dazed and disarmed humans will be the least of our worries.” He brandished his lightsaber, igniting it. “Now get behind me.”

Soon the narrow alley was filled with police and security forces, all brandishing weapons of various sorts, all of them trained on the lone Shard standing in front of the crouching Drackmarian. “I am Luxum, Iron Knight, Defender of the Jedi Code, and I may be the last faithful son of Orax! I will right this world!” Luxum stood totally still for the longest time, the glowing durindfire blade of his lightsaber daring the amassing forces to strike.

Slowly, inevitably, the Shards returned their weapons to their holsters, ordering their organic counterparts to do the same. “That shouldn't have worked,” Mologg whispered, rising to her feet behind Luxum.

The Jedi shook his head. “It didn't.”

“Then I trust you were successful?”

Luxum deactivated his lightsaber and returned it to his belt. “The Iron Order belongs to all Shards now, as it was meant to. The fate of Orax now rests in their hands. Our success or failure is in their hands.”



“. . . The Iron Citadel shall be brought down! Those responsible for this great deception shall be tried before all the people of Orax. The Iron Order shall stand as a bulwark against all evil, against all corruption of Truth! We, the Shards of Orax embrace our carbon brothers, and pledge to right the wrongs done to you in our name! Long live a free Orax! Long live a just Order!”

The mixed crowd of Shards, humans, and former slaves shouted their assent. The walls had come tumbling down; Orax belonged to all its people again.

Luxum and Mologg clapped in the obscure distance, content to watch others receive the praise for what they had started. “The Iron Order has recognized all mineral rights offered to offworlders and settlers since the initial colonization of Orax under the Old Republic,” Luxum said, still clapping. “The ban on expansion of city limits has been lifted, and the wilderness of Orax will soon be tamed by the hands of its citizens. Members of the Freemen's Conclave and the Iron Order are already working on some way to share authority of the planet's defense forces, and the pure Shard colonies will continue to receive historical datafeeds to more adequately expose them to the ideologies and cultures of the galaxy.”

“I was glad to have been of help, Jedi, but―”

“It is my personal hope that the Cooperative can find a more substantial, permanent means of uniting the governments of Orax,” Luxum continued, pretending he hadn't heard Mologg.

“What?”

Luxum nodded, noting Mologg's tone. “The Alliance wants oversight to ensure the Order keeps their promises. The Shard colonies want the same, to ensure they aren't . . . tricked again. They're almost infants, when you think about it,” Luxum continued, his voice changing as he considered the colonies. “I'm fifty years old, and I feel like a child, grasping at beams of light amidst some dark, mysterious place. They've never lived, never seen, never felt . . . Sure they think as fast as 'normal' sapients now, but they still don't have anything to think about. They're just lost and confused, running from one terror to another, overwhelmed by knowledge they can't really understand.

“Orax needs a caretaker, Mologg; someone to watch over it, to guide it, to shape its future. Someone to babysit,” He noted, a hint of laughter in his tone. “Someone to take this burden from us, and give us a chance to grow up. The Cooperative can do that; the Cooperative will do that.”

Mologg was a very troubled being. So troubled, in fact, that she had returned to the Inner Sanctum and requested an audience with the Avatar itself.

“It is not that I doubt the wisdom of the Emperor, or the purity of the Cooperative . . . I simply cannot see our future subject to the dictates of the Cooperative. They are good people, wise and strong, but they are not Drackmarian . . . they are not Children of the Way. Our paths are too different, and I fear only ruin can come from pretending this is not so.”

“Yet you succeeded,” The Avatar noted, the fingers of its synthetic hand interlaced with those of its purely mechanical counterpart. “Orax is at peace, a great darkness has been purged from its highest ranks, and the strength of the Shards shall be added to the Cooperative.”

“This time,” Mologg replied, her frustration obvious. “This time a Jedi ensured that success. We do not belong in the Cooperative, Avatar. Our destiny lies separate from theirs.”

“They need our strength, Mologg. And they are worthy to receive it.”

Mologg shook her head, unsatisfied with the response. “Of that I have no doubt, but we need not be among them to be of use to them. We must be allowed to go our own way, Avatar, or all of the faith and goodwill we have built will be for naught.”

“Time, Mologg. All great change takes time. This war with our neighbors has diverted our attention this past year, and now the Reavers threaten our allies in the Quelii Sector and beyond. In time we will reconcile our own beliefs with those of our allies, and only grow closer from the discomfort it brings. But for now we must wait; for now we must fight the most urgent of battles. Time, Mologg.”

Mologg of Drackmar bowed respectfully and turned away, making her way back to the shuttle that would carry her to Cooperative space.

But Mologg of Drackmar left unconvinced; not even the Avatar could sway her from her beliefs.

Luxum the last Iron Knight had performed his final act of service to Orax. He was now free to leave, content that the Cooperative would preserve what he had begun, and ensure that Orax would remain at peace.

“I just don't understand why you couldn't do this until now,” Atelia said, chasing after Luxum as he made his way to the starport.

“I didn't know what the problem was until now, and I don't trust the Iron Order to play fair and stay hones.”

“And what problem would that be?” Atelia asked, planting her fists on her hips as they came to a stop.

Luxum stared at his old friend for a long time. “Sorry: Jedi stuff.”

“What's that supposed to mean!” She shouted, chasing after him once more.

“I'm leaving, maybe forever, and I need to know that someone will be watching over this world,” Luxum answered, dodging the real question. “The Cooperative can keep Orax safe, from threats both within and without. I have a destiny beyond this world, Atelia, but that destiny encompasses this world, too. I call myself an Iron Knight, a Jedi, but I didn't even realize something of the Fallen Luxum remained, some taint that had intruded into the Order, had corrupted its most powerful members.

“I am meant to be a Jedi, Atelia. I am meant to fight Darkness, to carry the Light. I am the last heir of Ilum, adopted into her grace and marked to carry on her work. Too many good people have died ensuring I would take this path; I cannot abandon it.” He stopped, turning to Atelia and touching his fingers against the side of her face. “I'm sorry, but I have to go, and this was the only right choice I could make for Orax.”

Luxum stepped backwards into the starport, waving goodbye to his only friend. “I left the droids to you; my office is yours if you want it. Good luck, Atelia. May the Force be with you.”

He turned and disappeared around a corner, his mind focusing on the terrible truth before him, the magnitude of his recent revelation overshadowing the sorrow he felt at leaving once more:

My predecessor had an apprentice. The Darkness birthed in Luxum the Fallen Knight lives on.