Saga - Legends "Tricks of the light", a Krennic Halloween one-shot (19 BBY)

Title: “Tricks of the light”, an Orson Krennic Halloween one-shot

Author: AzureAngel2

Co-editor and muse: @DarthUncle

Main beta editor: @WarmNyota_SweetAyesha

Length: one-shot

Summary: An important member of the fairly young Galactic Empire is haunted by a spectre of the past. One that will not obey orders or shut up about uneasy subjects.

Time frame: The story takes place several days after the failed coup of Headmaster Gentis on Coruscant (19 BBY).

Place of choice: Orson Krennic's bachelor's den

Reader warning: Please excuse my weird English! I am German. English is only my Second language!

Disclaimer: SW is owned by George Lucas, Lucas Ltd. and now The Walt Disney Company


I am a man who walks alone
And when I'm walking a dark road
At night or strolling through the park

When the light begins to change
I sometimes feel a little strange
A little anxious when it's dark

Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that something's always near
Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's always there

Have you run your fingers down the wall
And have you felt your neck skin crawl
When you're searching for the light?
Sometimes when you're scared to take a look
At the corner of the room
You've sensed that something's watching you

Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that something's always near
Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's always there

Have you ever been alone at night
Thought you heard footsteps behind
And turned around and no one's there?
And as you quicken up your pace
You find it hard to look again
Because you're sure there's someone there

Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that something's always near
Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's always there

Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark

Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark

Watching horror films the night before
Debating witches and folklore
The unknown troubles on your mind
Maybe your mind is playing tricks
You sense and suddenly eyes fix
On dancing shadows from behind

Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that something's always near
Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's always there

Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that something's always near
Fear of the dark
Fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's always there

When I'm walking a dark road
I am a man who walks alone


First, there was this immense sensation of a heavy weight all over his chest, almost breaking his ribs. Then an overwhelming stench filled the air. Burned human flesh mixed with molten metal and Corellian whiskey. But the worst of all was a raspy voice, that seemed to come straight from the grave. “You've failed her!” it spoke in an eerie way, repeating the sentence another two times before shutting up completely.

Orson Krennic, Director of the Advanced Weapons Research division, was still shaking in cold sweat.

This had happened to him the seventh night in a row. It was like being trapped in some kind of crazy time loop. And it was definitely not the nicest way to wake up. He could imagine much, much better. Though the females from the Escort Service never stayed on until dawn. He could not stand such familiarity, such closeness.

Shaking his head decisively, the Imperial officer stood and made his way through his flat. It was semi-dark, which was the typical Coruscant night. The planetary air traffic knew no break. And the advertising industry loved bright billboards. The lower the street level, the bigger and more tasteless the ads. Only in the bowels of the planet wide city darkness ruled. The scum that lived there hardly knew real daylight.

With naked feet, he moved over his expensive living-room rugs. He was not the naive, changeless farm boy that he once had been. Plus he was not cut out of the same cloth like his parents.

Alongside their religious fanaticism his Old Man and his Missus had firmly believed in ancient legends and the creatures that came with it: fairies and ghosts. And much worse: elemental beings and human destinies.

“Riddles of the soul,” he muttered sourly, remembering a certain book title they liked to quote from.

Orson Krennic was sure that if his parents would be here with him right now, they would try to make him believe that he just had had an encounter with a succubus or a similar mean spirit.

“As if!” he laughed dryly and he switched on the bathroom lights.

His own mirrored reflection was unpleasant to him. For his gaze was blood-shot, the brown hair a complete mess. He had even managed to bite his underlip. There were some blood stains on his otherwise white, crisp army tank top.

“Freck it!” he cursed.

In the past, the sight of blood and much worse had not disturbed him in the least. He was with a special branch of the Imperial Security Bureau – short ISB – after all. But since a certain dissection, that he to witness on Lothal as a shocked by-stander, things had changed drastically.

He fought his nausea down, tore his under-shirt off and threw it straight into the linen basket.

It was then when the military engineer began to sense something disturbing. The hair at the back of his neck began stood up. Somebody was right behind him, ready to grap him.

When he turned around, nothing was there.

It was then when the lights went out with no warning.

Someone, or better to say something, kicked against his right shin.

“Ouch!” he complained.

The lights went on again, but there was something amiss.

The bathroom mirror had cracked from side to side. For no reason what so ever.

While he still stared at the damage, puzzled and annoyed, a pair of strong hands got hold of his buttocks. With unbelievable force, he was pushed right against the sink cabinet.

“Oi!” he shrieked, more astonished than hurt.

Dazed, he stood there for a while, trying to win his orientation and dignity back.

Then thick fingers dug into his neck and tried to close around his throat as well.

“Stop it right now!” he got out. “You have my attention.”

The invisible attacker stopped straight-away.

Coughing and shaking, the celebrated architect straightened up. “This is about Ina, right?”

She was the only one person whom he had failed of late. A heartbreaking affair for him. Only a week ago he had to arrange first her memorial service and then her cremation. Both on Naboo.

Orson Krennic drew a long, laboured breath.

It was certainly not his former babysitter who had just tried to strangle him. She had been a bloody pacifist.

Very slowly, he picked up a comb and moved it through his hair, straightening out his thoughts as much as his hair style.

His Ina had been a free independent mind with a kind heart. Which had been her demise. In the newly erected Empire of her uncle there was no place for out-spoken, liberal spirits like the middle-aged kindergarten teacher.

“I miss you so much,” he sniffed and, by doing so, wiped an angry tear out of the corner of his left eye.

He started splashing some ice-cold water into his face. When he dried himself in a fluffy towel, he made a discovery.

“Hold on!” he snapped. “Are those finger prints?”

He started to investigate his throat, turning his chin back and forth.

“Well, thanks a lot!” he commented as loud as he could, his voice full of acid.

Strange laughter, undeniable on the mischievous side, filled the air.

“Show some respect here!” Orson Krennic was not willing to be scared by his visitation. “Introduce yourself!”

But no reply came.

“There is this mantra from the Brotherhood of Cognizance,” he suggested with a purr like a hungry feline. “I could banish you from my home with that.”

Leaving the bathroom, he switched off the lights and began marching back to his bedchamber.

“What say you?”

He paused goose-stepping and waited several heartbeats.

His nightly visitor was not willing to have a true dialogue with him.

“Or if I find your brow, I could also stick a piece of paper to it,” he considered. “With a magic formula. It is known that the Guardians of the Whills do it this way.”

Still no reaction.

“Then I bid you good night!”

With a grunt, Orson Krennic hit his pillow and closed his eyes.

“You! Let! Her! Down!” screeched a male voice in a painful frequency.

Somebody hopped on his belly and got hold of his shoulders. “Hey!” he protested, more annoyed than frightened.

While his torso got shaken like the branch of an apple tree, the bodiless speaker howled, “You. Were. Ordered. To. Protect. Her!”

Reason kicked in and the director suddenly had an idea of the identity of his invisible attacker.

“And what about you, Barin Samye?” he shouted back. “You useless imp!”

The pressure stopped immediately.

Of course it was Ina's husband. The man who had died in the first months of the Clone Wars.

“You went first. It was your duty to wait for her and help her on the other side.”

A long time silence ruled the room.

Barin's ghost broke it. “She ain't with me, Orson,” it whispered. “He would not let her go.”

The words were like a direct slap into his face.

Only Sheev Palpatine could have stopped Ina's soul from passing over correctly by Naboo tradition. The old man was the one who had the knowledge, a motive and the necessary means.

“She is stuck in this plane of existence!” the spirit moaned. “Free her! You are the only one who can do it!”

He waited for more to come. But Barin Samye, once loving husband to Nagina, gave no further explanation

“You mistake me with a ghost hunter, pal! I am not even Force-sensitive. Where could I possibly find a tucked away soul? And how? Get Agent Kallus involved? That guy is good, but he certainly will be of no help here.”

There were noises in his study. Which was the place where he kept rather classified stuff. Mostly about a project so important to him that he already killed for it on several occasion.

“Don't you dare, you stupid horror clown!” he warned the spectre.

In record time, Orson Krennic arrived at his desk several rooms further, just to find his tablet glowing in the dark. An image file had been opened. He grasped at it.

Ina in her cute tankini, standing on the sandy shores of a beach he knew fairly well.

“Seriously?!?” he asked.

He picked up the tablet. “Scarif it is then. I have to build a tower for the base there anyway.”

Having read through some of Ina's more or less secret recordings he was alert to the latest wishes of his Emperor.

“You asked me for a tower, but it is going to be more than a technical construct, is it? What do you really intend to build it for? A Sith lord like you always has several schemes running at the same time. Your own niece taught me such.”

Whatever it was, Orson Krennic would look very carefully at every little correction of his architectural drawings. If the Sheevster was going to hide something from him, he would find it.


Sources:
The song “Fear of the Dark” by Iron Maiden (1992)
A certain book title from Rudolph Steiner (1919)
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki
Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia

 

Yikes, it hasn't been Orson's week!

 

Nicely done, poor krennic.

But, little does he know that this bit of bitter knowledge, brought to him at a midnight dreary, while pondering weak and weary, by such insistent knocking, grabbing in his chambers, by a ghost of yore, might both wake his feeling of what he lost anew and would lead him to a rare and radiant maiden who will name and raise.

Sorry I didn't get to react on tge night of Halloween but I definitely enjoyed, and am re-enjoying it, as I answer now.

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha & @DarthUncle, without the two of you it would not be fun to post these days. You are always there and support me. Thanks. For making me feel that even a short story like this one here is welcome and worth a comment.

So I cannot feel bleak and weary, but warm and comfy due to your efforts in reading and commenting.

 

We-ell, I am certainly intrigued to know how this planned tower on Scarif is going to help or hinder in Barin's quest to free Najina's soul.

That was well described poltergeist activity that you described there, and excellent insight on Krennic's part to work out, under some duress I must say, who his tormentor was, and what the assault was about.

There was a nice Buffy the Vampire Slayer quote, not that I can remember it, where she didn't mind being attacked and harassed, but "don't you dare attack my boyfriend!" Her beau being Angel the vampire at the time.

I feel that sentiment has some kinship with Krennic here; he's not exactly enthused to be attacked by unseen enemies, but "don't you dare leave fingerprints on my neck!"

I can see Barin arriving back in the afterlife, where his friends over there anxiously await news:

Deceased buds - "So, how did it go?"

Barin Samye - "Well, he was rather put out that I left fingerprints on his neck. But I got my point across."

I got the feeling that

was meant to mean something to readers, but I have no idea what.

Overall, good story. Really shows that Director Krennic was not such a pushover as Rogue One made him out to be. On the other hand, he look a laser bolt to the shoulder, better than I would have.

Well done. A nice piece.

 

Lothal is where Nagina died, Krennic had to be there to know what it was that killed her. It was quite traumatic for him, given how he felt about his former Nanny.

 

@DarthUncle - So...someone took a lightsabre to her? He was there for her autopsy? Palpatine forbade her from juggling chainsaws, so of course, our headstrong kindergarten teacher had to...?

Barin You were meant to protect her!

Krennic She was juggling chainsaws, I couldn't get close!

 

LOL, I like that description @Sith-I-5 I heard Barin in the 'you were the chosen one' tone, right?

But no, no not quite a lightsaber or chainsaws I don't think, and it certainly wasn't something she did to herself; it was (I believe) a rogue compatriot of Saw Guerrera who made a showing of her with his knife(s), by all indications at the covert directions of Tarkin and some others who found her a distraction for the Emperor at best, and a danger at worst. Tarkin probably didn't mind that it hurt Krennic both personally, and professionally.

I do think Palps would have forbidden her from juggling those chainsaws, or sabers though, that's for sure. Very protective of his niece, that guy, that's why he thought to put her in a sort of gilded cage. But, he also has a bit too big an idea of what he would see coming w. the dark side I guess, hence him forgetting that a cage might be crushed from the outside, making it a lethal trap (well, and the Endor slight misjudgement I suppose, that too).

 

Good insight on the voice. I was using that voice, but not conscious that it was Obi Wan's.

I in turn, like your thing about gilded cages being crushed.

I will only add, a rogue compatriot of Saw Gurearra, Stab McDermott.

 

@Sith-I-5: I can clearly see that you have been talking with my personal secretary, kitchen chéf, miracle worker and husband @DarthUncle in my absence from the JC boards. As I did mention in another fanfic thread, to reply on my mobile phone is always a bit stressful. Not only due to the tiny screen and my thick fingertips, but also due to the shortness of my lunch breaks (= 30 minutes).

Anyway, thanks for your kind, explicit and witty comments on this short story. And here is the scene that my husband refers to in the Nagina main story. It is actually the last scene in the last chapter:

********************************************************************

One morning Orson is gone without saying good-bye. There is reason for concern. Normally, he does his bed with military neatness. This time the living-room sofa is in complete disarray still.

“Something is up,” I tell myself.

The HoloNet news are not promising either. With a grave face the speaker announces, “The Graduation Night for the Raithal Academy has been disrupted by multiple explosions. The government is working to assess the damage. We have confirmation that the situation is under control. Sources close to the investigation report that Saw Gerrera, a notorious war criminal from Onderon, is implicated. We will keep you updated.”

Knowing how the Empire’s propaganda works, that translates to quiet a disaster.

I try to contact Sheev via his personal comlink, but to no avail.

Since there is nothing that I can do, I get ready for work.

Since nine months I just have two children in my group. Ahuva, a human girl that is barley 1,5 standard years old. And Jax, a Devaronian boy, not 1 standard year old yet. Both have helped me immensely to find my inner balance again. To just be the person that I mean to be.

“Tasia?” I call, once I step into the garden. But she does not appear.

I put her bowl of water on the threshold anyway.

Perhaps she is having a stroll with Bathseba.

A cold gust of wind makes me shiver and I hurry back into the cottage to get my cloak, but then I choose the one that my uncle left in my care. Seeing it, gives me some strange comfort.

I stroke over the smooth surface of the ancient Sith brooch and whisper a local children’s rhyme that comes into my mind, “Loth-rat, Loth-cat, Loth-wolf, run. Pick a path and all is done.”

I carefully lock the door and tug the key away in a side pocket of my cloak. Orson has a spare key and Lor, who can easily find ways into tombs and temples, has other means of getting inside.

From the corners of my eyes I catch a movement. Something white, but it is not Tasia. A strange animal snarls at me. “Are you…?” I ask, but when I step closer it is gone. Just a mirage, an illusion.

Perhaps Orson starts putting drugs into my food to keep me tame and manageable. Not that I want to accuse him of anything, but the animal that I just saw is extinct here on Lothal. Lot-wolfs are the stuff of legends.

My crono beeps.

Startled, I run towards the kindergarten.

Jhothal is strangely quiet this morning. Dark shapes, having the size of humanoids, seem to crawl around the houses.

At my arrival I find the kindergarten front door wide open.

Rebecca is always punctual with little Ahuva, but normally, both wait in the garden for me.

Frowning, I step into the building and get faced with the most dreadful sight straight away. The group room is but a mess. Toys, furniture and teaching materials are destroyed. But that is not the worst of it. In a far corner, where a wind chime is supposed to hang, my beloved Loth-Cat dangles from the ceiling. Her abdominal wall has been opened and her intestines have come out.

Sobbing, I sag down on my knees. “Oh, Tasia!”

A cold piece of steal is pressed against my throat.

My fingers cramp around the Sith brooch, drawing blood.

“Down with the Empire!” whispers a raucous voice behind me and cuts my windpipe.

Darkness catches me, forever more. Like a lover it encloses around me in a velvet embrace.


And the last story of my Celtic challenge "Down in the willow garden", a collection that contains 9 stories from the POV of Orson Krennic, has the actual autopsy of Nagina. (With a House MC cameo.)

 

Oh, this is such a fun Halloween tale! Orson does present himself as the perfect ornery skeptic/Scrooge type and so seeing him try to deny as a real "live" ghost haunts the poodoo out of him is hysterical! Though definitely a bit creepy until we know who it is and why.

I like how in every little aside from Krennic's POV early on, we see how cynical and critical he is of everything and everyone around him -- from the escort services that he hires but holds in contempt to the "scum" of the city around him to the very advertising on the buildings that he can see. He really is a grouch here; maybe more so than usual even. Given recent events in his life, that does make sense.

"Humbug!"

Yeah, okay -- that would be genuinely scary! Though also, I wonder how long the line must be for "torment Orson Krennic in the loo" in the afterlife! If you gotta haunt someone... he's probably annoyed a lot of the dead folks out there. "Stang it, Lyra! It was MY turn to dump his toothbrush in the potty this week!"

Eek, just the thought that that could be Nagina is disturbing -- no wonder he dismisses it so quickly.

Very creepy! Barin is getting up to some full-blown poltergeist antics here, and it is definitely unnerving.

Well, that's just about the last thing one wants to hear, though in this case it does lead Orson to a discovery. Still super creepy. Barin's ghost game is pretty on point even if he is working with a tough crowd in Orson! (And I can totally see why he is coming back as this angry if not downright vengeful presence. He and Nagina were robbed of too many years with his early death, and knowing that something happened to her spirit before she could reach the afterlife would have to make him upset! Well, and it's Orson. He has that effect on people for some reason. )

In his own way, Barin has done what he can to help the situation, so hopefully he finds some peace. As for Orson, his quest has only begun here.

A very fun and spooky explanation for how Orson came to know about the secret and why he went to Scarif in particular looking for answers.

 

@Kahara: Today I did so much home office that I deserve some online time now.

Sorry that I did not react sooner on your kind feedback. Every word is very much appreciated.

I simply do love writing Orson Krennic. And I am glad it worked for you.

Feel very, very hugged now.