The Secret Adventures of Luke's Hand - Part 2

ENTRY 2

Being a hand is a lot like being the wheel of a ground-car; you’re worked without a single thought involved, tossed around, crushed, abused, neglected, forgotten, only stopping long enough to figure out where you’ve been, just before you have to go on once again. It’s the hardest of existences, the lowest of positions, the seemingly infinite torment of not being in control of your own actions nor knowing what you’ll be subjected to next. But you get something out of it, and it’s something that maybe -- just maybe -- makes the whole thing worthwhile.

You get to go along for the ride.

Of course, besides that, there are a few perks to the job. What was the name of the last one? The princess? Leia? Of course, years later, Luke Skywalker found out that the princess was really his sister, which complicated things somewhat, but I heard Luke eventually married that woman who wanted to murder him.

Humans are such weird creatures, aren’t they? It’s a wonder there are so many of them.

But through the years that Luke and I fought our way from the lowliest of hollows to the loftiest of mountains, nothing ever could compare to the thrill that filled me with such ecstasy when Luke used the Force. Introspectively speaking, you might infer that the midi-chlorians enabled me to gain a personality and conscious thought after the Separation, but none of my experiments have been able to either confirm or deny this. I haven’t been able to use the Force since the duel on Bespin, yet I remain a…thinking hand. What is it that you humans say? Lack of interpersonal communication has made me forgetful. Oh yes! “Go figure.”

That lack of knowing does not keep me from longing for the ability to touch the Force once again. To feel the luscious rush and expanding warmth pulsing through my veins, the increased depth of resolve and understanding, the stunning climax of hidden spiraling tendrils reaching toward the infinite…and then to make my will be done upon the galaxy.

Sure, it wasn’t really my will, but it seems that I’ve acquired an ego of late. Well, I can’t help it. How many talking hands do you know?

The Secret Adventures of Luke's Hand - Part 1

Another one of my little projects over at TFN. A diary contest. We're supposed to keep a diary of any character, canon or otherwise, for a whole year. There'll be at least two updates a month. A photoshopped cover may follow later. I'm doing Bail Organa, (who I'm starting to take a liking to for some odd reason) HK-47, a companion project to a diary of Darth Revan that a friend of mine is doing, and...this one.

ENTRY 1

It was cold. Very cold. I was pressed tightly against the frigid steel, slick with freezing perspiration, trembling from exhaustion and pain. I think I remember being thrust forward once more, my perilous grip on the hilt of the lightsaber beginning to falter, when, in an eruption of pure, white flame, I was gone.

I tried to cry out, but, of course, no one could hear me. Down, down, down into a blackness like I had never before perceived. The sweltering pain had turned into a dull, distant throb, but the trembling in my fingers had progressed into uncontrollable spasms.

Bracing myself against the hardness of the black tunnel and trying to ignore the burning in my fingertips, I slowed my descent until I finally came to a stop.

I was alone. I felt alone.

“Noooo!!” I heard, somewhere above me. “That’s not possible!”

There was a welcome stillness, and I gasped slowly for breath.

Then, the dim iciness of the tunnel shivered beneath my grasp.

“Blast!” I swore, struggling toward the edge of the tunnel’s circular wall. Just as soon as I had done so, the lean figure of my old friend careened past me and shot out the end of the tunnel.

Now, I really was alone.

What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t cry out for him to come back for me. Humans never listen.

But I missed him already. Twenty years we had struggled together, lived together, loved and lost. I was with him when he was forced to accept his destiny on the ruins of what had been his home, and when he went to secure that destiny at the hands of Darth Vader.

But now…my life had lost its purpose.

For, you see, I was a part of Luke Skywalker. Literally.

I am Luke Skywalker’s hand.

Part 11 - Geonosis, the Aftermath

PART I - PART II - PART III - PART IV - PART V - PART VI - PART VII - PART VIII - PART IX - PART X

NINE DAYS LATER

Traelyn stood in the main hallway of the Jedi Temple, staring out the large window towards the skyline. A number of enormous battleships were rising into view and heading for space. War had come to the Republic. Or, the Republic had come to war, it was difficult to know which.

She sighed, her thoughts confused. She'd just come from briefing the Council on the death and injury toll from the Battle of Geonosis. The numbers were astonishing. Nothing similar had befallen the Jedi Order in over a thousand years.

Through healing trances and the miracle of Bacta, most of the injured Jedi had left the infirmary, their battle wounds healed. Their emotional wounds were another story, and Traelyn felt the turmoil of emotions that engulfed the Temple. She hadn't slept well, and every night she'd had to put her Padawan to sleep with soothing touches of the Force or else he suffered nightmares from the horrors contained in the dreams of others.

Gently, she touched the flimsiplast she carried in her pocket. She'd found the note in her pocket on board the Thyferra, hastily written and unsigned, but she knew Obi-Wan's scribbling anywhere.

My love,

Today I faced my own death more than once, and I wondered how you would grieve for me. Was that selfish? Perhaps, but I could not die and leave you alone with that kind of pain.

My heart was broken at the sight of so much death today, but now your tender touch and your soothing thoughts have healed me. You have saved me, again.

I love you always.

Silently, Obi-Wan walked up beside her. He noticed she was dressed in her working clothes instead of Jedi robes. The close fitting, tight-sleeved tunic that swirled around her thighs made her look more feminine, he thought, when he looked upon her as a man would. But looking at her as a Jedi, it meant she was working too much if she had not changed to appear before the Council.

"This is so wrong," she said, not turning to look at him. "If we are truly a democracy, shouldn't those systems that vote to leave us be allowed to do so?"

"I don't even pretend to understand politics. What happened in Council?" he asked.

"They said we should prepare for war," she replied. "The Senate has asked for Jedi to lead the clone troops, and Healers for the Medstars. There aren't enough Healers to go around. We've never needed that many before. The clones will have to be treated by medical droids, and perhaps the Jedi, too." She shook her head.

"Not everyone is as mistrustful of emmdees are you are," he said.

"We'll see if you say that after you've been treated by one."

"What makes you think I'm going to need treatment?" he said with a smile.

"Oh, Obi-Wan," she sighed. "You're such an optimist!"

"You're exhausted, Traelyn. I can see that you're not sleeping. You need to heal yourself."

"Master Jeran is threatening to sedate me if I don't sleep tonight," she said ruefully.

"Can I help?" he asked.

"Possibly," she replied with a smile.

* * *

It was very late when Traelyn silently walked the halls of the temple in her bare feet, dressed only in her nightdress. She entered Obi-Wan's apartment and found him sitting in a comfortable chair, freshly showered and wearing a loose fitting robe. He had a bottle of a glowing blue liquid, and he poured her a glass.

"Thank you," she said, and sat down on the arm of his chair, sipping at the brandy. "Felucian?" she asked.

He nodded. "The blue is the best."

She sipped again, savoring the taste on her tongue, and then she downed the rest of the drink with a sigh. Obi-Wan rose from the chair, took her by the hand, and led her to his bedroom.

'It's your turn to be taken care of," he said quietly, unbuttoning her dress and sliding it off her shoulders. His hands caressed her back as they followed the garment on its ride down her body. She looked up into his eyes but he closed them as he kissed her gently, tenderly pulling her close to him.

"Take this off," she said, pulling at the belt of his robe.

He reached behind her and caught the ties on the end of her thick braid, loosening its hold and pulling her hair free. He buried his hands and face in the silky strands, and kissed her neck while pulling her down onto the bed to lie on top of him.

Traelyn was overwhelmed. The tenderness, the gentleness of his touch, the love and care that she sensed in his thoughts were so soothing that she felt her entire body relax beneath the touch of his hands.

His fingers caressed her face, lingering in her hair, and he sent tendrils of Force energy into her mind. She felt her mind wandering, and realized that he was using one of her own Force healing techniques on her.

"Obi-Wan," she whispered drowsily, "How..."

He silenced her with a tender kiss and she faded into oblivion.

* * *

It was still night when she woke several hours later, nestled in Obi-Wan's arms. He was asleep, but came awake as he sensed her consciousness.

"Awake now?" he said softly.

"Mmmmm," she murmured, her face against his chest.

"Ah, Traelyn, I love you so much," he said. "I need you so much, you make me glad to be alive instead of feeling guilty that I survived."

"You must never feel that way, Obi-Wan. You survived for a reason, you know that."

"I wonder sometimes. Why would the Force be with me while someone beside me perishes?" He sighed. "When I was in that arena, I could have sworn that Qui-Gon was with me."

"Perhaps he was," she said.

"Traelyn, that's a nice thought, but I don't think that's possible. He's dead, he's at peace with the Force, not hanging around looking over my shoulder."

"Don't be so cynical, the Force contains many mysteries that not even the great Master Kenobi can understand," she replied. "So tell me, how did you learn that sleep inducing trick?"

He chuckled. "Master Jeran taught me, he said you needed sleep badly."

"Hmmm, after all these years he finally acknowledges that we're sleeping together," she mused.

"Master Jeran is a wise man, and he knows you very well, my love," he said, pulling her closer to him.

"You realize we will probably be separated soon. It may be a long time before we see each other again, if we ever do."

"I know. The sight of those warships this afternoon was very disturbing, worse then when I saw the clone troopers for the first time on Kamino. They were marching into a troopship, and I had a vision of the future. It was very bad."

"It's so hard to believe that we can't settle this without war, after all these centuries of peace. I don't think the Senate realizes the tragedy this will bring to the galaxy," she said sadly.

"There will many deaths and much pain that you will have to endure, and you have a Padawan now to care for who will suffer more than you. I worry about you. Many of the Masters are refusing military assignment," Obi-Wan said. "You could, too."

"No, I cannot," she said. "As long as there are Jedi suffering I have to do my duty. You're going, aren't you? I can sense it."

"My personal feelings do not enter into it," he said. "I will go where the Council orders me."

"As will I," she said. "Obi-Wan? I read that note you hid in my pocket. How could you even ask if I would mourn your death? You're my heart, my being."

He winced, "I don't want you to suffer pain because of me. Promise me you will confide in someone if you are grieving, don't try to endure it alone."

"And if I don't are you going to come back from the Force and haunt me?" she said lightly.

He chuckled. "As you say, there are mysteries..."

Part 10 - Genonosis

PART I - PART II - PART III - PART IV - PART V - PART VI - PART VII - PART VIII - PART IX


SIX YEARS LATER

The Republic Medical Ship Thyferra was five times the size of the Dayden Star, and had more beds than Senate Medical Center. It was fresh out of the shipyards, and everything on board gleamed with newness.

"Shiny," Aidriac, Traelyn's thirteen year-old Padawan said.

"Hmmm, yes, shiny indeed."

Traelyn was deep in worried thought. They were streaking through hyperspace, on their way to the Outer Rim, to the little known planet of Geonosis.

"I sense something bad, Master," Aidriac said. "A disturbance in the Force. Death and suffering."

Traelyn nodded. "A huge battle has taken place on Geonosis," she said. "Many Jedi have died and many more are injured."

"It's more than physical pain, Master Traelyn. I sense something else, not fear but something like it."

Traelyn closed her eyes. "Shock and anger, I think. A great loss of confidence. We will have to deal with this as well as the physical injuries. Are you going to be all right?" Privately, she regretted bringing Aidriac on this trip, for he was too young, but he was her Padawan and his place was with her.

He gulped. "Yes, Master."

"Don't "yes, master' me unless you mean it, Padawan!" She smiled to soften her words. "We'll be there soon. When we get to the surface, you will stay with me. Don't worry, you'll just be assisting. We'll get through this."

Jennaea, Traelyn's favorite nurse, appeared in the doorway. "May I borrow your assistant?" She asked. "We could use help loading up the travel packs."

Traelyn nodded. "Go on, Aidriac, and help get the shuttles ready."

He nodded, and trotted off with Jennaea, happy to have something to do.

Traelyn had been overjoyed to find Jennaea's name on the duty list, so much so that she'd resorted to mind tricks on the personnel clerk to get the nurse assigned to her.

"You're shameless, Master," Aidriac had said with a grin.

"What good's a mind trick if we don't use it to get what we need?" She'd chuckled.

* * *

"Master Yoda wants us in the hanger," Aidriac reported to her. She nodded, for she'd been drawn to this spot by a ripple in the Force. She shouldered a pack of medical supplies, and Aidriac picked up two spares as they exited their evac shuttle onto the landing platform. Aidriac swallowed hard, and buried his apprehension beneath his determination.

Traelyn was hit with a wave of pain, and instantly knew why she'd felt compelled to land nearby. Obi-Wan was hurt, and so was his Padawan. Obi-Wan's distress was as much emotional as it was physical, as he seemed to be extremely concerned for Anakin. Master Yoda met her at the entrance.

"Are you injured, Master?" She asked, but he shook his head, motioning her to go further inside.

As they entered the hangar bay, she caught sight of Obi-Wan and Anakin on the ground. A young woman dressed in white was tending to Anakin, and all three were injured, but sensing the level of distress of each of them pointed Traelyn towards Anakin. She was shocked to see that he was missing most of his right arm. She slung her bag off her shoulder and began unpacking her supplies. First she attached a monitor to Anakin's chest, injected him with a strong painkiller, and then turned to Obi-Wan to do the same.

"See to Anakin," he gasped. "He's hurt worse than I am."

"I'll be the judge of that," she said tartly. She quickly checked Obi-Wan's wounds and administered a painkiller.

"I'll be right back, Obi-Wan. Don't try to get up." He relaxed as the drug took effect, and he could release his mind from controlling the pain.

"Master!" Aidriac said in a panic. "His vital signs are unstable." He pointed to the monitor on Anakin's chest.

"He's in shock," she said, leaning over him and placing her hands on his chest. She closed her eyes and reached into the Force, drawing on its power. Anakin's rapid breathing and heart rate slowed to normal. He opened his eyes and looked about in confusion.

"Padme?" He said. "Obi-Wan?"

"I'm here, Anakin," the young woman said, and Traelyn recognized her as Senator Padme Amidala. "Obi-Wan's all right, too."

She probed his mind, sensing other injuries. She motioned for Aidriac to put his hand on Anakin's chest.

"Open up your mind, Padawan, can you locate the source of his pain?" She asked.

"I can sense pain, Master, but he seems to be hurting all over."

"You're right, Aidriac. He has multiple contusions and fractures. It's as if he ran into a duracrete wall."

"Dooku hit him with Force lightning, and threw him up against that rock wall over there," Obi-Wan said. "Then he got up and starting fighting back, he saved my life. I don't know how he recovered so fast."

"Well, he didn't recover, he must have been acting on instinct, with a Force boost," she replied. Turning back towards Anakin, she asked, "Are you hurt, Senator?" Padme twisted and showed Traelyn her back. Deep cuts filled with sand and dirt. "It doesn't hurt now," she said.

"You should come back to the Medstar with us," she said. "Can you watch over Anakin for a few minutes?"

"Of course, I don't intend to leave him," Padme replied.

Traelyn went back to Obi-Wan's side. He was lying flat on the rock floor, still in pain despite the injection she'd given him. She reached for his temples, and began to send soothing touches of the Force into his mind.

"Traelyn," he said quietly. "How is Anakin?"

"He'll be all right, but we've got to get you both up to the Medstar." She examined his wounds more closely, and motioned for Aidriac. "Get a couple of Bacta patches ready, please."

He brought the patches to her, and she watched while he applied them to Obi-Wan's wounds.

"Are those lightsaber cuts?" He asked, astonished. "They're so deep, but they're not bleeding. The pain is terrible, isn't it?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "You're letting a Padawan work on me?" He asked with a wan smile.

"Hey," Traelyn said, "I don't tell you how to do battle..."

He looked at his injuries. "No, but perhaps you should..."

* * *

The lights in the medbays were turned down low. The beds were filled with injured Jedi, wrapped in various Bacta patches and sleeping in healing trances. Aidriac was monitoring Anakin, and practicing control over his empathy.

Padme Amidala approached Traelyn, speaking quietly. "If you have a moment, Master Zavall, could you take a look at my back? It's starting to hurt."

"Of course, Senator, come with me." She led the younger woman to an exam area. "How did you get these cuts? They look like animal scratches."

"They are," she replied. "A Nexu raked his claws over me. It hurt terribly, but then it turned kind of numb."

"There might be some nerve damage," Traelyn said. "Bacta will take care of it, but those need to be cleaned out. Are you up for a warm shower? It would be less painful then if I have to wash them."

"I'd love a shower!" Padme sighed.

"Jennaea!" Traelyn called for the nurse. "This is Senator Amidala. Please take her to the showers and find her a gown and robe to wear. Wait until she's finished and then bring her back here."

She turned back to Padme. "Let the water run over your back for at least five minutes, then let Jennaea check your wounds to be sure they're clean. When you get back, we'll patch them up with Bacta and a bandage."

As Jennaea led Padme away, Traelyn felt a familiar presence flicker into the Force. Obi-Wan was awake.

"You're even more bossy than you were before you became a Master," he said as she pulled the curtain back and entered his cubicle.

"Eavesdropping?" She asked, as she pulled back the Bacta patch on his arm and examined his wound. She uncovered his leg and did the same. He winced. She applied some fresh Bacta, and replaced the bandage.

She gave him another injection of painkiller and then sat down in a chair beside his bed. Taking his hand in hers, she smoothed back his hair with a tender touch, and he smiled a little. "It was terrible today, wasn't it?" She asked.

He grew serious. "I would say that you can't imagine it, but I know how you feel things."

"It's not the same as living through it," she reminded him. "But all the way through hyperspace I sensed a great deal of pain and death. This battle was unexpected; I don't think any of us are prepared for the aftermath. And the Force has darkened considerably. I have a bad feeling about the future."

A stab of grief ran through his mind. "How many?" He asked.

She squeezed his hand and said, "You should be in a trance, you know."

"Tell me, Traelyn. How many Jedi died today?"

"I don't know, Obi-Wan, a lot. Over a hundred," she said, while sending soothing Force caresses his way. He closed his eyes against the feelings of despair.

Traelyn put her fingers on his temples, to sooth him back into a healing trance, but he pulled her hand away. "Not yet, stay here for a while?"

"All right, but you need to rest soon. You've had a busy day." Quietly, she sent tendrils of the Force into his mind, soothing his grief and pushing him towards sleep.

"Considering that I started it off chained to a pillar awaiting execution, it could have been worse," he said drowsily. "Dooku had me dead twice. Anakin saved me from his blade and Master Yoda from... something else..." he murmured. He looked over at her. "Stop fiddling with my mind," he said.

"All right, back to sleep for you," she said firmly. She reached for his forehead and gently soothed him into sleep.

"Bossy," he said, as he drifted off.

* * *

After tending to Padme, Traelyn checked on Anakin. He was deep in a healing trance, and Aidriac was nodding off in the chair beside his bed.

"Aidriac!" She said, "Go to bed. You've done enough for one day."

He rose, sleepy eyed, and mumbled as he left to find his quarters. Padme appeared, and sat down in the vacated chair. "May I sit with him?"

"Of course, if you like. But he won't wake up until we get to Coruscant. We can find you a bed for the night if you want to sleep."

"No, thank you, I'd rather stay with Anakin," the Senator said firmly.

"As you wish," Traelyn replied. "I'll be around if you need me."

* * *

Traelyn settled herself into Obi-Wan's bedside chair, resting her head on the bed beside him. "Traelyn?" He said as he stirred around.

"Shhhh, you should be sleeping," she whispered.

"Am I allowed to get up?"

"You need the refresher? Let's see if you can stand on that injured leg." She stood up and pulled him to his feet, supporting his left side as he tentatively touched his foot down.

"It's good, I can walk on it," he said, but she assisted him out of his cubicle anyway. "Traelyn, please!"

"All right, you're on your own."

When he returned, she helped settle him back into bed, almost as if he were a small child. She checked his bandages, and covered him with a light blanket.

"I hate being the helpless one," he said with a shake of his head. "You shouldn't have to take care of me."

"It's my job, Obi-Wan. Wouldn't you jump in to fight for me if I needed you?"

"Of course. Good point," he said with a sigh. "I guess I just don't like needing help."

"Do you remember when we were little, and I used to cry every time one of our friends was injured, or had their feelings hurt? Who used to comfort me? And who hid me from Master Yoda when I had that temper tantrum when I was 7?"

"Ah, well, that was me," he said. "Are you saying that you owe me?"

"No, I'm saying we're not younglings anymore, we have jobs to do. Mine is taking care of the sick and injured. Yours is being protective."

They were silent for several minutes, and Obi-Wan sighed. "Where is Anakin?"

"I have him in a deep trance; he should sleep all the way home. Master Jeran will see to his arm when we get to the Temple. The Senator is sitting with him. There's something going on there, you know."

"He's infatuated with her," Obi-Wan replied. "He as much as admitted it to me."

"I think there's more to it than that, she's in love with him."

"I don't think that's possible," he replied. "He's much younger than her, and they have nothing in common. I don't think there's anything to worry about."

"Well, be mindful of it, Obi-Wan. She's not a Jedi, it could lead to disaster for Anakin." She wasn't sure he heard as he drifted off to sleep again. She sighed and put her head down again. We'll all be a long time getting over this day, she thought sleepily.

"It will be all right," Obi-Wan murmured as he put his hand on her head.

And so they slept their way back to Coruscant, unaware that for the Jedi, things would never be all right again.

Our Wars

I entered this in a PT fan fic contest on The Force.Net, and I think it's simply amazing. I stopped doing fan fics because I grew tired of the Jedi romances on the beach and duty before love and all that, and wanted something a bit different. So, I tried humor, but my canned humor tends to run a bit stale. This story is a bit of a compromise...and a surprise that I hope is pleasant. Oh, and the poster is my first Photoshop. Granny got me interested in it...and now I'm hooked!

Note: The parts in black occur in the GFFA, while those in blue are happening in our galaxy.

OUR WARS

His hands were slowly losing their perilous grasp on the ledge of the power generator, searing pain darting through bone and tendon with a blistering relish. His temples pulsed with the black emptiness of grief upon terror, aching body, tired limbs, a cold deadness in his heart that was like a weight in his chest since he watched his Master fall to the Sith Lord’s blade. But it was like nothing when compared to the shame he had brought upon himself.

Reeling with shock, fear, and a blazing rage so unlike anything that he had ever imagined he would experience, Obi-Wan Kenobi felt the tender flame of the dark side of the Force. And he had embraced it. He had embraced everything from which he vowed to protect the galaxy unto his death. And that was wrong.

That was not how he would honor the sacrifice of his Master. That was not how he would honor everything that the Jedi Order had given him. That was not how he wished to live or to be remembered, and that was certainly not how he wished to die.

Be mindful of the living Force, my young Padawan.

Yes, Master. I understand now.

With a breath fueled by the energies of the Force, sheathed in the light shed by the goodness in his heart and the inner strength of his love, Obi-Wan Kenobi leapt above the rim of the power generator, calling to his hand his Master’s blade. With a strike made not in anger, but in a determination born of compassion, Obi-Wan swept his blade down toward the deformed demon that was the Sith and--

“Timmy! What are you doing?! You messed up the best part!”

The protests were as loud as they were unanimous, with Amanda and Daniel rising to their feet and shaking their little fists at the hapless boy with his hand hovering near the TV.

“Why do we got to watch it again?” Tim asked. “Obi-Wand’s gonna kill him, just like every time. There’s no point.”

“Don’t be a dummy, slime-for-brains,” said Michael. At eight, he was the oldest among all of us, and already a formidable expert on everything Star Wars. “That’s the way George Lucast made it. It has to go that way.”

“But why? Why does it always have to go that way?” Tim insisted.

“Because if Obi-Wand didn’t kill Darth Maul,” said Amanda, “Who would train Luke Skyhopper?”

I looked at Amanda with admiration at her feat of logic. Short, wiry, and the only girl invited to Daniel’s house for the Star Wars sleepover that day, she was always one for quick conclusions that nobody would dare to argue with. But Timmy was in an oddly single-minded mood that night.

“Why would Luke Skyhopper need training anyway if Obi-Wand died? The Sith could come back and control the galaxy again.”

“Then the story would be over!” shrieked Daniel, horrified at that sacrilegious thought.

“Yeah, and what’s George Lucast gonna do with all the other movies?” asked Michael.

“Well, that’s not the way I would’ve done it,” said Timmy matter-of-factly.

“You just can’t criticize the way it’s done, Tim,” explained Amanda. “It’s just the way it is. It’s the only way the story can work out in the end.”

“But I don’t want it to work out that way,” Tim whimpered, sitting down hard on the dark carpet and almost knocking over the box of Cheez-Its resting near the TV remote.

“Then why don’t you change it?” I offered.

Everybody stared at me. Well, I can’t really blame them. I didn’t talk much back then, and it was usually because I didn’t have much to say that people would listen to.

“What?” asked Michael.

“Well, why don’t we make our own Star Wars? I mean, just change the story so the Sith win and see what happens.”

“Hey, that’s a cool idea!” whooped Daniel, breaking into a monster grin that showed the bits of Cheez-It still stuck in his baby teeth.

“Yeah! Let’s do it!” said Amanda.

The little room covered from ceiling to floor and wall to wall with Star Wars posters, autographs, plaques, pins, and books, with tiny figures of Han and Chewie strewn around everywhere and bits of The Game of Life: A Jedi’s Path near the door where Dan’s mom was sure to trip on them, erupted with the sounds of cheering and anticipation.

And that’s how it all began.


--with a power surprising in its physical intensity, Darth Maul parried Qui-Gon Jinn’s green blade. Obi-Wan’s eyes went wide with a paralyzing mixture of shock and horror as the blood red of his fiendish lightsaber darted through the Jedi’s chest, glowing in twisted triumph out the end of his back. Eyes rolling back into his head, Obi-Wan Kenobi fell, lifeless, to the smooth floor of the power generator room.

Darth Maul tilted his head backward, shutting his eyes with the pure ecstasy of darkness enveloping his soul. He tasted it as it toyed with the back of his tongue, smelled its pungent depth in his nostrils, felt the delicious fire as it raced through his veins.

His Master would be quite pleased.

Taking long, eager strides toward the door of the power generator room, Darth Maul pulled a comlink from his black robes and keyed in the code to his Master’s secure communications link on Coruscant. With a slight crackle, the code was patched through.

“What is it?” rasped the voice of Darth Sidious through the end of the comlink.

“The Jedi are dead, my Master,” whispered Maul, his voice thick with the power of the dark side.

“Good. Good,” said Sidious. “And Queen Amidala?”

“She will soon join them, my Master.”

“Excellent. Just as I have foreseen it. You have done well, my young apprentice. Return to Coruscant. We make our move against the Jedi today.”

“Yes, Master,” Maul said, a small smile of evil pleasure twisting his lips. Replacing the comlink in the folds of his robe, Maul paused at the door in which Queen Amidala had cornered the Viceroy, and drew his lightsaber.

“How’s that so far?” asked Tim, squealing with delight at the fruits of his task.

“Hmmm…” began Amanda, sounding a bit too much like Yoda for my tastes. I was a Kyle Katarn man, myself. “It’s good so far, but what’s Maul gonna do when he gets to Coruu-scant?”

“Help Sidious get rid of the Jedi, of course,” said Daniel, his arms folded like Kitster.

“But what about Anakin? He’s gonna blow up the Trade Fedation’s control ship and the Gungans are gonna win the battle,” said Amanda.

“Well, in our version, he messes up and gets stuck there and the battle droids kill him,” said Michael, his chin jutting confidently.

“But what does that do to Luke Skyhopper?” I asked. I liked Luke. For one thing, Luke was necessary for Kyle Katarn to be useful.

“He just doesn’t exist anymore,” said Timmy.

“Can we just get back to the story?” shrieked Daniel.

“Alright, back to the story.” Amanda could really take charge when she wanted to. She eventually grew up to be a criminal attorney. A pretty good one, too. “Darth Maul goes to Coruu-scant to see his Master…”


“Queen Amidala is dead, my Master,” said Maul, kneeling before the shrouded figure that was Darth Sidious.

“And the Trade Federation?” prompted Sidious.

“They were victorious, Master. Not a Gungan was left alive, and the planet is in ruins.”

“Very good, Darth Maul. You may rise.”

With a silent, otherworldly smoothness, Darth Maul rose from his position on the cold steel of the floor and stood before his Master. The room was steeped in shadows, both from physical lack of sunlight and through violent plays of dark side against light.

“The Jedi are vulnerable at this point,” began Sidious, his gnarled fingers steepled in contemplation. “The shock of the deaths on Naboo will be received with some degree of…disbelief. A good portion of the Temple has been dispatched across the galaxy to search for the hidden fortress of these new Sith.”

“If we strike quickly, the Jedi will fall, my Master,” said Maul, his eyes radiant with the echoes of immanent destruction.

“Yes, young Maul. We will go to the Jedi Temple together, and there, the Jedi shall meet their end.”

The halls of the Jedi Temple were awash with horror and pain, resounding with the screams of dying younglings who would never know the light of another moon, and Jedi Knights and Masters in earnest combat with the Dark Lords and their army of battle droids. Gallant pillars and ornate passageways that seemed almost eternal in their solidity fell with the single blast of a detonator. The immortal internal strength of the Jedi was met with the cold, dispassionate face of death that was the battle droids and their Sith commanders.

Darth Maul’s face twisted in a grimace of invigorating joy as his blade punctured the heart of a young child clad in light Jedi robes, her little body sliding loosely to the polished floor. The sweet mélange of fear, death, hatred, and despair that swirled around him filled him with a wholeness that he never believed he would experience. Maul was not certain that his body was even capable of holding such darkness within it; the beauty was too magnificent for his mind’s eye to comprehend.

In the furthest reaches of the Jedi Temple Spire, the crested plume of a once noble structure, the Sith Lord Darth Sidious stood locked in deathly combat with Jedi Master Mace Windu. Around them lay the tomblike remnants of chaos: walls scorched with blaster fire, overturned Council seats steeped in pools of blood, and the bodies of what were the most revered Masters in the Order.

Sweat glistening on the top of his high, domed forehead, Master Windu struggled against the Sith Lord with everything that his soul could fashion for him and all the power that he could summon to his hands. He fought for the Jedi, for his home, for those he loved, for the light side of the Force, for the galaxy, for its beings, for himself, for his friends that he would never share the pleasure of being with ever again.

“The oppression of the Sith will not return to this Republic!” he gasped, his shoulders aching with every thrust of his purple blade.

“You have lost, Master Jedi,” mocked Lord Sidious. “The Sith will have their revenge, and your pathetic Jedi Order will be wiped from the face of the galaxy.”

“Not while I still live,” said Windu, the vigorous strikes of his lightsaber refusing to find their mark.

“That, Master Jedi, is why I am here.”

Rotating his saber in a feint positioned convincingly at Master Windu’s throat, Sidious twisted his blade downward with impossible speed and struck at Windu’s chest, his saber--

“Stop!!”

--slipping from his grasp and falling to the intricate carpeting below him. At the same moment, Windu’s lightsaber eased out of his shaking fingers and laid to rest adjacent to the curved hilt of the Sith Lord’s.

“Whoa! What…what…what am I doing here? What are we doing here?”

The astonishment written on the faces of the five children was mirrored by the stricken looks of the Jedi Master and Sith Lord. All memories of their mortal duel forgotten, the two adults gaped at the young five with interests only they could have identified. The moment seemed to last for an eternity; for the children, it could’ve lasted much longer.

“Amanda,” sobbed Timmy, “I’m scared.”

“There’s nothing to be scared about,” she said, but Amanda didn’t sound too sure.

“We’re…we’re in the movie!” howled Daniel, grinning like a madman.

“Not really,” Michael pointed out. “I think we’re in our version of the story. Look at the floor. All the Council members are dead. If this was Revenge of the Sith, then it would just be those three guys.”

“Wait a minute,” said Richard, everyone turning to look at him again. He rarely spoke, but when he did, others usually listened. But they didn’t necessarily follow. “You guys stopped dueling when we got here, right?”

Sidious and Windu nodded, still not trusting themselves to speak.

“And Papytine, you were ready to kill Mace before we showed up, right?”

Again, Sidious nodded.

“Well, before we got here, we wanted Papytine to kill Mace, but when we thought about it and decided that we didn’t want it, we were transpotted into the story!”

“So?” asked Michael.

“So, we can still decided who wins the duel!”

“Rick’s got a point,” said Amanda. “We could still kill Papytine and Mace can live!”

“You children think you can defeat a Sith?” snarled Sidious, calling his lightsaber into his hand with the Force. “Then you do not yet know the power of the dark side!”

Igniting his wicked red blade, Sidious advanced slowly toward the five children, relishing their terror that was emanating through the tendrils of the Force.

“Don’t be scared of him,” stuttered Amanda. “He’s not real.”

“He sure looks real,” whispered Timmy.

“This is all your fault!” yelled Michael. “If you wouldn’t said that dumb stuff about changing the story, none of this would’ve happened!”

“I didn’t mean to,” cried Tim, his eyes welling with tears.

“Luke Skyhopper!” Richard called suddenly.

“What?” asked Amanda.

“Luke Skyhopper in Empire Strikes Back. Yoda told him that he could lift the X-Ing out of the swamp him if he believed in himself.”

“What are you saying?” asked Michael.

“Well, I think if we all said what we believed in, all of this will go away and Star Wars can be back to normal. As long as we don’t believe that Papytine can win, he won’t be able to win.”
There was silence for a moment as the children contemplated this, and then, unwilling to wait any longer, Amanda spoke.

“I believe in the United States of America!”

“What?” said Daniel.

“Well, somebody had to start,” she said, crossing her arms.

“I believe in my Mommy.”

“I believe in magic.”

“I believe in the piano.”

“I believe in my gerbil.” (That was Daniel.)

“I believe in the Earth.”

“I believe in Santa Claus.”

“I believe in you, Luke Skyhopper,” whispered Richard. It didn’t hurt to try.

His face darkening in rage, Darth Sidious lifted a fist toward and children and exclaimed--

“Wake up, kids! Are you planning on sleeping all day?”

“Ugh,” groaned Amanda, brushing a few stray hairs from her eyes.

“You kids left the TV frozen again? One of these days you’re going to burn out the screen, you know, and I’m not buying another one.”

“You can’t burn out a plasma TV,” muttered Michael.

“Yeah, you can, genius,” said Tim.

It was quiet for a while after Mom came in and picked up the last of the Cheez-Its, gathered up the Han and Chewie figures, and turned off the TV. The picture of Obi-Wan preparing to vault to the top of the power generator wasn’t frozen into the screen.

“Did it happen?” I asked, blinking slowly as if just awakening from a deep sleep.

“Either that, or we all had the same dream,” said Michael.

We brooded over that for a while, when Daniel couldn’t help but say, “It was awesome, anyway.”

“It was,” we answered, nodding emphatically.

“So,” began Timmy, “wanna do it again?”

“What?” called Amanda. “Are you nuts?”

“Not the Sith this time, I mean. The Jedi.”

“Huh?” grunted Michael.

“Order 66! We could save the galaxy! Stop Anakin Skyhopper from killing all his friends. It would be a good thing this time, not a bad thing. We could do it, you know. We know how now.”

We held a short meeting, just as they did in the Galactic Senate of the Old Republic, to decide things in a manner befitting the new guardians of peace and justice in our own galaxy. After a short disagreement between Senator Amanda Wilber and Senator Michael Anton, an agreement was signed adjourning the Senate for twenty minutes, in light of the recent smell of pancakes wafting in from the kitchen.

Upon our return, it was decreed that a vote would be held to determine our next course of action. Should we adopt a path of noninterference? Or should we attempt to save the galaxy from an evil that we knew was coming?

The vote was unanimous. When Mom came back later to check on us, we were already gone.