Chapter 2 - MAGNUS

MAGNUS THE WARRIOR stood at the edge of space, his head bowed as if in mourning, bathed in the blue light of the tractor beam and staring down into the black deep of space as the shipwreck crept eerily from the darkness.
Magnus face, half hidden by a silver, polished mask, showed zero emotion as pieces of ship and bodies passed mere inches from him. Underneath his steely frame, however, grew a tempest of hate towards this display of war.
Magnus knew war. It was his life.
Magnus recognized a fragment of the shell casing. A partial emblem of his home world, Archaia, was laser etched on its charred surface. The same emblem was cut into his flesh when he was a child. He wore it proudly all through his formative years, through adolescence, into adulthood. Now it was just another of his many scars he has collected throughout his ravaged life.
To be born a male Archaian was to be born into war.
The Archains prided themselves on warmongering. It was livelihood as well as their religion. They studied fighting in all forms, hand-to-hand, sword-to-sword, gun-to-gun, ship-to-ship and every combination thereof. There were competing universities where every aspect of warfare was lectured upon and practiced and tested. Weapons and defenses were always in development. Archaia was the go to world when looking for a new battleship, gun or missile. War contracts became literally cut throat, with Archains killing one another for bidding, with the larger of the conglomerates taking out the smaller ones, until there was only one. Like a virus, it wanted to spread. Archaia began testing weapons on other worlds, wiping out civilizations in the process.
Magnus rose amid the ranks of the military, serving as General under Commander Terremon. Magnus could have easily led the Archain army, but preferred to strategize from the shadows of Terremon, disliking politics altogether, thirsty for the battlefield only. It was on the battlefield that he thrived.
Until he met the Jedi. And his entire life was flipped upside down.
Magnus right hand went instantly to the smooth hilt of the jedi’s weapon at the thought of her while his mind retraced the last few exciting weeks.

Magnus stood proudly admiring his best platoon as they underwent a stealth exercise using the latest camo-armour. In the background, the new walkers were being built, towering above the mountains, their legs resembling the roots of unearthed trees. “General, Lord Gruel is holding for you via hologram,” the sentry said.
Magnus nodded, his good mood splintered by the notion that he be expected to jump at the command of some dark sorcerer. He was angered whenever he pondered why his commander would make an alliance with a frail looking, hooded villain that spoke of the dark side of the force.
Magnus turned and treaded to his mobile command tank, bellowing at his inferior officers to kindly remove their behinds from his quarters, then sat in his chair, lit a smoke, and punched up the hologram.
“General Magnus,” Gruel smiled.
A skull always smiles, Magnus thought. “What is it, Gruel?” He had refused to address him as Lord.
Gruel, quite used to this lack of respect, continued without a pause. “A Jedi is en route to investigate our operations of late. I do not have to tell you that the Jedi have no business meddling in our affairs.”
“Pray do not tell me.”
Gruel ignored Magnus’ sarcasm. “Keep her visit brief.”
“Her?”
Gruel smiled harder. “Yes, General, the Jedi do recruit female species. Do not be swayed by her tricks. If she gives you any trouble…”
“Kill her?” Magnus asked, bored by the premise.
Gruel laughed a deep throated chortle. “Do not be so naive, General. A Jedi cannot die so easily. I shall send my apprentice to deal with her.”
The transmission faded before Magnus could contest this new development.
Commander Terratron had always dealt with the Sith via Holonet. To his knowledge, the Sith have never paid a visit. Now there was one on the way.
Magnus heard tales of the Jedi told from retired, craggy soldiers, drunk in the pubs. All of it seemed outlandish fairytales. Beings who could wage battles with massive armies using only their minds and a laser sword. He heard of one jedi who singlehandedly took out en entire front of foot soldiers, tanks and an aerial assault. Magnus laughed at the old coot who told him this tall tale over a craven brew at the hornets nest.
“Impossible, old man,” he laughed.
“It was no man,” the wrinkled old man said, “It was a Jedi,” his eyes nearly melting from years of working on the lightning core.
When Terratron informed him of his new clientele, Darth Gruel, Magnus was amused and then indifferent. Let him fool around with some magician. Then I can focus on getting my men ready, he thought.
But Magnus began to doubt his own work as Terratron suddenly shifted his affairs from military enterprise to galactic invasion as he unveiled his designs to attack the remote system of Hoth.
“It will be an excellent exercise, Magnus. The Hoth system is largely unpopulated. It will be a cake walk. For the good of Archaia, we will take each planet one by one and use them as our new bases of operations. Engineering, testing, production.” He smiled. “We’re expanding.”

“General, we have a droid.”
Magnus turned back to the present, nodded. Perhaps the droid could tell us something, he thought. But what more did he need to know? This was a refuge charter escaping the current Archain takeover of Orba, only to be destroyed by an Orchain battleship. We came upon the wreckage only by chance…
Except Magnus did not believe this was so. The ship under Magnus’s command was returning from reconnaiscance, placing satelittles around the system to track Orchain maneuvers. They were heading straight home to Hoth. When they had found the shipwreck, they were parceps off course.
Magnus saw something emerging from the wreckage. A lifepod. Something was moving inside. There were palms pressed against the glass, beating them.
“The pod! Pull it in! Quick!”
magnus reached out as far as he could, seeing but not hearing the boy inside screaming. Magnus grabbed the curvature of the pod as the technician drew it in the bay with the bluewave and set it down amid the wreckage. Magnus opened the hatch, pulled the boy out and ran off with him, speaking into a comlink.
“Medical! I have a survivor from the shipwreck! Get a warm table ready! I’m bringing him in now!"

The Med techs had a warming blanket ready. Magnus burst in and set the shivering Jekka on it. The techs immediately wrapped him and began attaching Ivs and monitors. Jekka’s wide eyes never left Magnus’. Even though his small body was rocking with spasms of hypothermia, those eyes were still. Jekka was crying.
Sssshhhh, little one. You’re okay.” Jekka’s eyes closed.
“What happened,” magnus asked.
“He’s lost consciousness. He’s dehydrated.”
A officer entered. “Magnus, we were adrift for three hours. The Arca was on auto course back home. There were no errors or alerts. It appears we were pulled into the path of the wreckage.”
”So what you’re saying is...You don’t know what happened.”
”Um. Yes. We’ve recharted the maps. We’re set to continue at your command.”
”Alert Adia on what has happened; we drifted off course and discovered a ship destroyed. There is one survivor. We’re on our way back. That is all.”
One of the techs was listening in with much interest. “The ship. One of ours?”
The other tech chimed in. “Was it the Orchains?”
Magnus ignored them. “Battle stations ready for anything. I want a dozen men watching the scopes.”
The techs exchanged glances. “It’s the Orchains.”

After seeing to the rest of the salvage, Magnus headed straight to Medical to check on the boy. “How is he?”
“Sleeping. He will be fine. He’s quite lucky we found him.”
Magnus made no comment and took a chair next to the boy. Magnus felt responsible for him, as there were no other survivors on the ship, whoever was watching over the boy, if there were anyone, was no longer living. If the boy had family on Orba, the chances were great that they were already dead. Knowing this, Magnus heart ached for the boy; Without family, a home, heading to a frozen world alone.
Like me, not that long ago, how alone he had felt. This too shall pass, he thought. And that is what he will tell the boy after he understands the brevity of what has happened.
This, too, shall pass.
The med tech dimmed the lights and left them alone. Magnus propped his boots on a table. His eyes felt heavy. The last few weeks have been with little sleep since his new post working for the Hoth army. He chuckled at the brief vacation he had in the glacial barrens of Hoth’s frozen sea after defecting from the Orchain army, and fell asleep remembering the solitude.

Magnus of Hoth woke again at daybreak. He was pleased with his own private invasion; how he fashioned a home from one of Archaia’s mobile command transports (removing all communication boards was his first step in the redesign, not wanting anyone, Archain or Hothian, to know of his whereabouts) within a remote mountain range a days journey from Adia. Magnus did not think of his defection as a new beginning but rather a return to his roots. His grandfather was a fisherman. When not in military school, Magnus spent mornings fishing with his grandfather, talking very little, sharing a wink or a joke, just basking in the peace, the call of birds, the splash of fish jumping in the mist covered water, the laughter of missing the “big one.”
Magnus looked forward to each morning, knowing he would venture out into the deep blue and white fields of Hoth, cut a hole in the ice, and catch breakfast, lunch and dinner. The fish were plentiful; Fishing was one of Hoth’s exports. The ice-cold water was ideal for both population and the freshness of the catch.
The intelligence he received from his recon team confirmed that a range of wildlife and a community of humans, mostly fisherman and miners, inhabited Hoth. The largest city was Adia, where there was a hierarchy government in place. Hoth did its trade in ice (plenty of that), fish (plenty there also), and also rare crystals that were subject to illegal trading. The King, dubbed the iceman by the recon team, was an old fisherman elected by his peers and lauded for building the fishing industry, transforming a simple collection of villages into a great city.
Hoth developed a small army to counter the pirates that routinely attacked their trade ships and infiltrated the crystal mines. Though he recognized the army as a tight outfit, Magnus knew they would be outnumbered and outgunned against any average opposition. They would be buried under a single platoon of his old army.
Taking his gear and heading out into the cold, Magnus froze. Not because of the below zero temperature, but because of the lone taun-taun standing just six meters away, its head snapping up from the snack Magnus had left as bait.
Silently cursing himself for not checking the surveillance monitors before venturing out, Magnus began to calculate every possible move by himself and the beast, much like a game of battle chess.
Magnus knew the locals had trained the wild animals to serve as transports through the frozen terrain. Hoth had mechanical transports of course, but the taun-taun, though primitive, held a romantic and rustic quality and Magnus wanted one for his own. He came upon a wild herd during his first week on Hoth and had since been obsessed with catching one. Magnus did not realize how he was regressing to his boyhood. He felt, rather than thought, like a teenager again. His bloody years as a war general were fading just as sure as the universe spun around him. He felt free, intoxicated and cleansed by the chill of Hoths crisp air and now he had a taun-taun within his grasp.
The taun-taun did not move but kept its head pointed directly at Magnus, its curving horns a threat of massive bodily harm if it were to charge. It snorted an angry white cloud of steam from its nostrils.
One wrong move and it will break, Magnus thought, his hand creeping behind his back for the web gun strapped there for his occasion. But it won’t, he told himself, I will not let it, remembering the previous attempts. The taun-taun stood its ground, stomping its massive clawed toes, defending its find of oats, however frozen.
A questioning bray from the distant pack was the golden moment.
Magnus had his gun drawn before the taun-taun even decided to turn its head and bellow out an answer, which came out as an alarming squeal of surprise instead of a confident and aggressive hoot. Due to the temperature, the web unleashed from the gun did not envelope the entire beast but only caught it over its horned, potato-shaped head. Magnus waited for the inevitable lurch as 10 gilas of electric current released from his gun would travel through the length of the cable to the web and into the animals’ body.
It didn’t happen.
Frozen, Magnus thought as he was violently ripped from his stance as the taun-taun bolted on its muscular hind legs. Magnus refused to let go of his prize, hanging onto the gun as he was dragged helplessly behind the beast, plowing through snow and ice.
Snow flew into his eyes and nostrils. Ice cut at his face, his parka, his pants.
The taun-taun squealed wildly, pulling at the cable, thrashing its head side to side to free itself from this trap, its tail whipping back and forth forceful enough to decapitate a man. Magnus, his scar newly bleeding from the rough ice cutting at it, gritted his teeth at the pain, struggling to find a purchase as he was dragged like a rag doll. He pulled back with his arms but could not counter the brute strength of the taun-tauns legs.
This was a bad choice, Magnus thought dismally, his legs torn asunder by the sharp edges of ice rock. It will tire, he hoped, and held on. At this thought, the taun-taun stopped, still struggling at the net around its head, braying loudly in fear, a constant jet of steam from its mouth. It shook is head in violent spasms, squealing.
Magnus got up quickly, his legs screaming, feeling blood on his face and chest. He stood holding the gun with both hands, keeping the line taught as the creatures’ struggles slowed. The taun-taun relinquished, turning itself off.
He stepped forward cautiously, mindful of the horns and its strength. Magnus guessed that a solid kick from a taun-taun could rip a man nearly in half. The beast had many defenses; horned head to rush and head-butt an enemy, a tail to lash at flesh, muscular legs with sharp toes for gripping ice and disemboweling a predator.
The taun taun sides expanded and retracted in heavy, slowing breaths. Magnus stepped twice. He was within reach and harm of all three defenses. With one hand, he let go of the gun and laid it on its hairy back.  The taun-taun lunged away from him and Magnus sidestepped with it, pulling the netting downward.
“Sssshhhh. It’s okay, big fella. Easy. Easy.” From his pocket he pulled a snack he was saving for his fishing trip and waved it in front of its nose.
The taun-tauns eyes grew large as it followed the scent with its muzzle. It was interested.
Smiling, Magnus offered the snack bar in the palm of his hand. The taun-tauns teeth plucked the morsel from his palm, its hairy lips brushing his skin. It quickly ate it and snorted Magnus’s hand for more.
Magnus held out the remaining snack and the taun-taun followed.
All too easy, Magnus thought.

Magnus crept to the lakes edge, its waters clear and frozen, much like looking into a mirror. There was a boat sitting in the middle of the lake, caught inside the ice. Some one was inside it, beckoning for Magnus to come.
Magnus walked out onto the ice tepidly, as the clearness of the ice was alarming. He could see the bottom of the lake, fish swimming below his feet.
“Grandfather,” he asked. The figure was sitting with its back to him and dressed in a dark cloak. Snow softly fell around them. He came upon the boat, his heart racing, wanting to know whom this person was. He tried to touch the shoulder and make it turn its head, but his arms were too heavy. He stood there watching, tense, while the snow fell and the ice creaked.
Helpless, Magnus watched as a skeletal hand held up a fishing rod, and cast a line onto the ice.
“He is coming, Magnus.”
The fishing rod suddenly ignited into a red blade of light.
Magnus wanted to turn the body around, tear the cloak off this monster.
The head turned, excruciatingly slow, the reverb of the blade a deafening groan.
Magnus’ heart raced.
The cloaked head turned.
It was the face of Miowi, its eyes were black rocks inside its head.
“Ssssithhhhh,” it hissed, and turned its head back, the bones inside cracking like small twigs.
Magnus was able to grab the thing and turn it around to face him again.
A red skull grinned back at him before crumbling to dust.

Magnus woke, his body shaking in sweat. He wrapped himself and sat in the command chair, checking the surveillance monitors.
The skies were clear. Salty was standing up, sleeping. Everything was all right.
He ate a quick breakfast and saddled up Salty for the daily fishing.

Magnus crafted a crude saddle for his new taun-taun mount, which he affectionately named Salty for his affinity for salty snacks, which were mostly cured fish.

Both man and taun-taun were on edge venturing out into the deep white of Hoth. Magnus felt anxious, keeping watch in all directions and feeling spring-loaded. He packed more weaponry than usual and took Miowi’s lightsaber for a reason he could not explain. It felt strange hanging in place of his right-handed blaster, yet it was right. Salty sensed Magnus’ feelings, and kept his alertness piqued, his great horned head jerking left and right.
Salty reared up suddenly, almost throwing off Magnus.
An instant later came a great booming sound from the sky. Magnus looked up to see an Archain Dreadnaught breaking through the gray snow clouds, spinning out of control, nearly vertical.
Magnus watched numbly as the ship plowed out of sight behind a mountain range. He waited for the explosion. Nothing came. No fireball or smoke cloud. No thunderous boom of impact. Just a vapor trail pointing to the mountains.
Magnus pointed his taun-taun into that direction and took off to face this new development head on.