So This is How Padmé Dies

Padmé awoke, disoriented.

She wasn't sure where she was, nor how she got there.

She only knew Anakin.

For all the darkness and confusion in her mind, she could still clearly remember the first time she had laid eyes on the feisty boy who would become her husband. A slave with no possible hope for escape from a lifetime of manual labor, yet overflowing with such vibrancy that one couldn't help but like him.

His first words to her were "Are you an angel?"

She remembered feeling flattered, and even a little embarrassed. She thought it ironic that the Queen of a world, chosen and beloved by her millions, would be so flustered by the attentions of a slave boy, but of course he hadn't known at that moment what her station in life was. Completely unaware of all her political power and wealth, he had simply looked into her fourteen-year-old soul and said what he saw.

Padmé remembered telling Sabé about it. How he had proven himself brave and selfless, and every bit the pilot he claimed to be. His defining moment, however, had been back in the junk shop, when he had told her what she was. How could she possibly be any less than an angel, when such a power as Anakin Skywalker had said it to be so?

Sabé had laughed and said it was a childish infatuation with Padmé's regal beauty, but she knew better. She had felt his gaze penetrating her mind and her heart, and she knew he had spoken only the simple truth.

After that, everything she did, every risk she took to protect her people, had been in some small measure for Anakin. Years later, Queen Jamilia would tell her that her single most important act as Queen had been kneeling in humility before Boss Nass of the Gungans, and not the repulsion of the Trade Federation's embargo as the history vids would claim.

But Padmé knew that in her heart she had been saying, Do you see me now, Anakin? I am more than a girl, I am a Queen, yet I am still brave and humble and virtuous and good. I rule an entire world, but I am still your angel.

After they had saved Naboo, he had left to become a Jedi. Padmé went and studied up on the Jedi Order, ostensibly to better understand the soft-spoken man who had sacrificed himself and the strange Zabrak warrior who had slain him. But when she had learned how the Jedi forbid attachment and felt her heart sink within her, she could no longer lie to herself about her motives.

And so she had chosen to marry herself to her work, to her duty, just as Anakin did. So she could prove herself to be every bit the angel he was.

Padmé heard a voice. "I think she'll be awake soon." She recognized it as belonging to Obi-Wan Kenobi. Hadn't Obi-Wan gone back to Coruscant with Anakin? But then she remembered, she had seen him again, when he was assigned to protect her from the threat of assassination. And when he reported for duty, he had brought his apprentice. Padmé wanted to laugh out loud when she remembered how she hadn't even recognized Anakin at first, being so focused on the political issues at hand.

But when she opened her mouth to laugh, only a small groan came out and she nearly blacked out again.

She thought of Anakin, and it was as if he were there. She felt as if Anakin was standing next to her, and helping to keep her out of the abyss. And she remembered again the first time Anakin had been there for her, watching her sleep through electronic security monitors. How she felt suddenly overcome with modesty, knowing he could see her. I am an angel, she had chanted to herself as she fell asleep. I am an angel, I am an angel. And then her angel had swept in and stopped the next assassination attempt with his brilliant blue lightsaber.

His lightsaber was the same color as his eyes.

Suddenly she was looking into his eyes again, for the first time. Imagining that the feelings she had were being reflected back at her. She tried to cover her indisgression by saying, "Don't try to grow up too fast." Don't try to grow up too fast? What kind of thing was that to say to the boy she had only just realized was now a man?

And as she silently berated herself, Anakin said, "I am grown up; you said it yourself," and then the emotion in his eyes was not a reflection of her own, but a deep wellspring of passion that she had long since buried in herself.

She remembered breaking off the contact then, telling him that it made her uncomfortable.

Why did I do that? She had to adhere to the principle of unattachment to safeguard her virtue. For Anakin.

Even if that meant from Anakin.

Still, that moment had been the beginning of the breakdown of all her barriers. All the time she suddenly had to spend together with him, coupled with the sudden lack of duties to attend to, gradually allowed her to open her mind and her heart to the possibility of a relationship. She had forsworn all relationships for him, but had known for so long that he was unreachable. Even with him right there, confessing and demonstrating his love for her, she still had difficulty grasping the idea that they might be together.

Besides, she had already decided in her head that a public life of service did not couple well with a family life.

She made some of these excuses to Anakin and told him she didn't want to live a lie. And deep in her heart, she cried out for him to ease her concerns and mastermind a solution.

Instead, he agreed with her words. "It would destroy us."

Was it true then? There was no way they could be together. Padmé felt crushed. She smiled and went through the motions but inside she felt dead.

"She may be dying."

Padmé tried to answer the strange electronic voice that had said that, but her own voice was not responding. She wanted to tell them that she wasn't dying. Then she had a disturbing thought. What if I am dying? Her memories rushed at her again, back to the first time she thought she was about to die.

When she and Anakin had faced the Separatist droid army and lost. When she had been so sure that she would not see another sunset, that she had admitted to Anakin that she loved him.

Somehow, both of them had miraculously survived the battle of Geonosis, and had immediately fled to Naboo to be married. Padmé decided that it was probably not a good comparison to the way she was feeling now.

At least she was starting to pierce her own mental fog. She was at least pretty sure that a few years had passed since her wedding, even though their time together had been severely limited by his duties as a commander of clone armies, and her own duties as Naboo's Senator.

But nobody knew that. Padmé suddenly found herself struggling to remember why she'd been pretending to be single. Why had she been living a lie that would destroy her? Oh yes, she remembered. The Jedi. Her secret husband was actually a Jedi.

Padmé knew it was impossible for her husband to be anything else. It was part of his very being to be a hero, to always help those who needed him.

Somewhere in her mind, a little voice told her that he was only trying to help her.

Why did I need helping? She was fairly certain she hadn't received any more death threats since the beginning of the war. Suddenly, a sharp pain in her abdomen reminded her - the baby. Padmé was about to have a baby, and Anakin had been sure she was going to die.

The little voice told her that he was right. She was dying. Then Padmé realized that Anakin had been right about everything. I'm about to die, thought Padmé, and I can't forestall it by confessing my love. This time, I die for real.

She vaguely heard some alarms going off nearby, and she thought she could feel a medical droid's probing touch, but she ignored them. Anakin knew I would die and he tried to save me. He killed the younglings and abandoned the Jedi in the hopes that it would somehow keep me alive. She remembered crying out in shock at his actions. "I don't even know you anymore!"

Yes you do, said the voice. You know he has to be a hero. He has to save people. Why, Padmé, why wouldn't you let him save you?

"Are you an angel?"

No, she thought. I'm not.

Then the physical sensations became too much for her, and her eyes fluttered open to see Anakin's dearest friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi, standing over her. But hadn't Obi-Wan tried to stop Anakin too?

I'm not an angel, she tried to say, but her "I" turned into a scream of pain.

"Don't give up, Padmé," urged Obi-Wan.

But I lied, she thought, I lived a lie. I was no angel, just a selfish girl--

Another sharp contraction seized her, reminding her again of the new life she and Anakin had created together.

"Is it - it's a girl. Anakin thinks it's a girl," she managed to say.

Obi-Wan said something about staying with them.

"If it's a girl--" The pressure on her abdomen became unbearable for a moment, and she cried out in pain. If it's a girl she won't be an angel either, because her mother was not an angel. "If it's a girl, name her Leia." The Nubian goddess of pain.

Then the droid handed her baby to Obi-Wan, who told her, "You have a boy."

Not a girl. He might have a chance then, to be more than his mother. "Luke." Nubian for angel. “Oh, Luke.”

Suddenly the birth pressure swept over her again, and Padmé felt herself getting weaker as her body devoted all its energy to pushing. She barely had strength to cry out in pain. A moment later, the droid appeared, holding another baby.

Obi-Wan looked over at the baby, and then reported, “It’s a girl.”

“Leia,” answered Padmé, and suddenly the room was spinning too rapidly to say anything else. She needed Anakin to catch her again. "Anakin..."

Somewhere she heard Obi-Wan's voice, saying "Anakin isn't here..."

Where are you, my angel? "Anakin, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she screamed. "Anakin please, I love you!" But the declaration could not save her life again. Anakin wasn't here now, because Obi-Wan had tried to stop him. Why did you stop him, she sobbed. He was trying to save me. He was my angel.

It took her a few moments to calm herself down, but she had to do it. She had to tell Obi-Wan he was wrong about Anakin.

Each breath felt like a struggle.

"Obi-Wan?” she whispered. “There’s good in him. I know.” She felt Anakin’s touch on her mind once again, but it was distant, fleeting, as if he were searching for her. “I know there’s..." She gasped for another breath of air. “…still…” That breath was her last one.

The last thought to register in her brain was I am not an angel...

And then she was one.

Apprentice No More

Obi-wan Kenobi stood in the council chambers of the Jedi Temple. He breathed deeply, letting the Force flow through him and guide his thoughts. As was usually the case, he found himself thinking about his apprentice.

Former apprentice, Obi-wan corrected himself. The boy was a Jedi Knight now, part of the grand tradition of protectors. He fondly remembered his first time meeting the boy, the tireless debates about whether he should be trained, and finally the designation of Obi-wan as Skywalker’s teacher. Train him in the ways of the Force, they had told him. Teach him to be wary of the dark side.

Obi-wan was often concerned about his pupil. Now that he was on his own, out fighting in the war, the Jedi Master could often sense the tendrils of the dark side grasping at the inexperienced Knight. Sometimes from outside himself, but all too often from within. War tends to bring out the worst in everyone, he thought. We should have been able to end it before it ever started.

A familiar presence entered the room, and Obi-wan turned to see Master Yoda shuffling in, with his ever-present walking stick in hand.

“Master Yoda! I didn’t realize you were here! I mean, I knew to expect you soon, but I thought – well, I suppose I thought you might never return. Silly, I know. Many of the Jedi would swear that you are incapable of dying.”

“Strong am I in the Force, but not that strong,” answered Yoda. “Interrupting your meditations, am I?”

“Not at all, Master,” came the reply. “I was just – thinking.”

“Thinking of Skywalker, are you?” the old Jedi asked.

Obi-wan chuckled. “Did the Force tell you that, or am I so transparent?”

Yoda sighed. “Concerned for your Padawan you are. Spoken to him recently, have you?”

“Actually I haven’t,” answered Obi-wan. “I thought it best that I remain aloof for a time, let him make his own mistakes now and rely only on the Force. If he is truly to be a Jedi Knight – “

“Correct you are, Obi-wan,” interrupted Yoda. “A Jedi trusts the Force and does not depend on his former teachers to rescue him. However --” Yoda paused. He looked at the floor and pondered a moment, then looked at Obi-wan again. “Uncertain, he is. Spoken with young Skywalker I have. He asked troubling questions. Fully trust us, he does not, and guidance he needs. Speak to him, you should.”

Obi-wan raised an eyebrow slightly, then mused, “I think I might know the nature of his questions. Did… she… come up?”

“Not by name, no,” the Master answered. “But heavy on his thoughts she was.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The truth! Told him the truth I did. As a Jedi always should.”

Obi-wan shuffled his feet slightly. “You think I should be more forthcoming with him. Tell him all that I know about his… situation.”

“Skywalker flounders, Master Kenobi. Your Padawan he is no longer, but his teacher you are still. Your guidance he needs. His trust, go earn once again.”

Obi-wan bent at the waist, then straightened up again. “As you wish, Master Yoda. For the Jedi Order.”

Yoda watched as Obi-wan left the room. “For the Galaxy, Master Kenobi,” he murmured softly.

╠☺╣ ╠☺╣ ╠☺╣

The war continued, building to a terrible climax. This time, Obi-wan found himself seeking Yoda’s guidance, rather than Yoda coming to him. He told the venerable Master how his pupil had made a choice that Obi-wan himself never could have made.

Master Yoda took the news calmly, as if he’d been expecting this from Skywalker. Obi-wan envied his serene faith in the will of the Force. “The dark side, he must face. If he is strong enough, he will prevail.”

“Master Yoda, listen. She found him, just before he—before he went. She asked him straight up to leave that place.” Obi-wan took a breath. “And he told her in no uncertain terms what his choice was.”

“Then she knows the truth now? What he is?” The Master had no problems saying what needed to be said.

Obi-wan nodded, struggling to retain his composure. “He told her himself far more effectively than I could have done. There were tears, but in the end – well, he went on to the destiny he chose for himself, and she… I hope she’s strong enough.”

Yoda looked up at him. “Strong enough! Royalty, she was! A Senator for her planet she was! A superior warrior, without the benefit of Jedi training! None stronger will you find, I think.”

“But when word gets out – and it will! – that Darth Vader is her – well, she won’t have it easy. You know what he did for the Emperor. If there was ever a reason to be ashamed of one’s family –“

“Shortsighted are you, Master Kenobi! More family she has now than Vader alone. Good reason to be proud of her family, I think!”

“I suppose it’s possible. If our little rebellion here survives the night, it might be possible. Tell me, Master Yoda, can you see the future any clearer now than before?” There was no insult or sarcasm in Obi-wan’s tone, only a pleading. A hope for the impossible to happen.

Yoda chuckled. “The future, I see very clearly! Turn around, Obi-wan!”

Obi-wan turned to see what Yoda was pointing at. There was a new presence joining them, strong in the Force. He stared deep into the boy’s eyes. Anakin’s eyes.

“Luke…”

Yoda reached out with his senses. “Yes, she knows the future is safe in his hands. The future of the Jedi, young Luke is.”

Obi-wan was still staring into those blue eyes. Anakin’s eyes. “I’d forgotten how blue your eyes were, Anakin,” he murmured softly. Then he drew the boy into his arms and hugged him. “Welcome back.”

Then Obi-wan turned around and made himself visible to Luke Skywalker, and he could sense Yoda and Anakin shimmering in to opacity as well. The three of them smiled at the Jedi Knight, and then his sister drew him back among the living heroes of the Rebellion, where they would face a new and brighter future together.

Exultation of the Sith

Title: Exultation of the Sith
Author: Arwen Skywalker
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. If I did, Callista would have have died in Children of the Jedi.
Summary: A look at Sidious after Vader leaves for the Temple.
Author's note: This is a bit different than what I usually write....read & review, but don't be too mean. :)
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They were back. After thousands of years of waiting, of perfecting their skills. Years filled with lies, deceit, manipulation, greed, but above all, patience, the Sith had returned to power. And now the extermination of the Jedi had begun.

Darth Sidious sat in his crimson office and smiled. Not a kindly old man's smile, not a agreeable senator's smile, but a harsh, cruel smile full of dark joy and malice. The bodies of the worthless scum that had thought to wrest his power from him littered the entryway to his office. The fools had not stood a chance against him.

He had planned this for years upon years, weaving a web so intricate, so fine, but at the same time strong enough to ensnare an entire galaxy. A few paltry Jedi could not stop him, he had already won. The Senate was caught irrevocably in his grip, the common people of the Republic perceived him as their hero. The Jedi were viewed with distrust, living as they did in their closed off Temple away from the rest of the galaxy. He had made sure of that. And when he announced to the galaxy that the Jedi had tried to assassinate him, whose word would the galaxy believe? There would be no Jedi to gainsay him.

Now, for the first time in all his stay on Coruscant he uncloaked himself completely, letting down his shields, throwing his darkness over the city-world. Let the Jedi know he lived, even as they were cut down, let them know complete and utter despair as they died. He would hide himself no longer. He had no need to. His plans were all falling into place.

His new apprentice Darth Vader was approaching the Temple, prepared to execute his first act as Dark Lord of the Sith. And he, Sidious, would be here, reveling in the feel of death in the Force.

Ah, there was the first; Lord Vader was in the Temple. Sidious leaned over and activated a panel on his desk, and clone commanders across the galaxy answered his call.

"Execute Order Sixty-six." Three words, but oh, the power they contained.

"It will be done my Lord." Sidious terminated the transmission.

Sidious cackled as the Force became a roiling sea of pain and anguish, despair, hate, and death. Pain, as Jedi died horrible deaths. Anguish and despair as Jedi realized they had been betrayed, and by the very one on whom all their hopes were hung. Hate from Lord Vader, hate at them for driving him to this, hate at himself for what he was doing. Death, much death, as the entire Jedi Order fell into shadow. Sidious sat drinking it all in; his eyes glassy, his entire being intoxicated with the feel of the power that he held, with the thickness of the Darkness that was now enveloping the entire galaxy, as the Jedi and their light was eradicated for good.

He was the law, he was the senate, he was in control. Never again would he fawn before the pathetic scum that called themselves "Jedi". He had destroyed them, and victory had never felt so sweet, or so invigorating. The Darkness grew in strength as Jedi died terrible deaths, their despair and horror feeding his power.

He was the Darkness, he controlled it, and it obeyed him. It was his tool, his servant. He was the most powerful being alive, any who would dare defy him would be dealt with swiftly. His web had caught the galaxy, and there was no escape. Unlimited power he had at his fingertips, in his fingertips. The Sith had risen again, and there would be no defeat. There would be no one left to stop them this time. Sidious cackled again, and the Darkness and shadow echoed his triumphal shout. "Unlimited Poooooooooowwwwwwweeeeeeeeeerrrrrr!!"

A Jedi Lost

A man approached, his slow footsteps announcing his coming.

“Go away,” I said, without opening my eyes. “I’m becoming one with the Force.”

Did I sound mad? Good.

“My presence will not impede on the process, I assure you,” the stranger said with a deep, smooth voice.

“Have you been sent here to persuade me? Because you’ll be disappointed.”

He chuckled. “Far from it, Master Jedi. I was sent to kill you.”

“I don’t think I’ll need your help, thank you very much.” I hoped my words had the sound of nonchalance I did not feel.

“So it seems,” he replied dryly. “Mind if I join you?”

Polite as though his words were, he did not wait for an answer and sat down next to me on the ruin’s edge. Reluctantly I opened my eyes, blinking at the gloomy daylight, and beheld his face.

He’s handsome, I thought.

Why did that surprise me? What did I expect? Some hideous monster; a raving lunatic with a lump? The Dark Side is not a bodily infliction, after all. Yet for all my studies, I was not prepared to behold a real, living Sith Lord.

He was about the same age as me; a tall, muscular man, nearing the end of his prime. His skin was the colour of hot chocolate, a beautiful dark brown; features strong, yet gentle and open. His bald head was remarkably expressive and friendly; his broad smile charming and friendly. The stranger’s brown eyes, however, seemed oddly cold. Was there a burden behind those eyes, hidden behind a smile and good manners?

His black attire, a shape-hugging tunic partly covered by a long robe and hood, was remarkably similar to a Jedi’s. Strong hands lay open on his lap; he tried to make me feel comfortable, which strangely seemed to work. He smiled at me and met my eyes. I had to look away.

His words were like crystals; sparkling yet hard.

“I can’t say you’re making it hard on me, man. But as much as I fear disobeying my Master’s orders, I do not intend to kill you. You intrigue me.” His gaze followed mine across the valley and he sighed. “When you left it must’ve been a great loss for the Jedi Order.”

“Not that great a loss, I imagine,” I replied, shrugging. “I’ve now joined the ranks of the legendary Lost Jedi. A dubious honour. ‘Jac Eebra, previously a venerable Jedi Master, has sadly left the Order in search of his awaiting destiny,’ that’s what a Council representative said on Holonet. It was just a tiny announcement between the celebrity gossips. Sad, really. But as for how or why, I’m not telling you.”

“So be it.” Instead of expanding on the subject, he remained quiet. Possibly he thought I would start explaining if the silence grew, but I was not particularly inclined to. Instead I kept my gaze on the endless ruins in the Valley of the Dark Lords around us and thought about how this man could entrance me so. Must be the seduction of the Dark Side, which was terribly strong here on Korriban.

Yet the attraction I felt could not be denied; real or Force-fuelled, there was a soft warmth inside me when he, at last, turned towards me again and whispered conspiratorially in my ear,
“What is it that you want, boy? Really want? Truth? Love?”

“Do not mistake me for some naïve padawan,” I replied, trying to sound offended. Why did he call me ‘boy’? “Save your critique on the Jedi for the ignorant and wronged. I have no trouble with the Order or its principles.”

“If so, why did you leave?”

Curse his insight. “Personal differences.”

“Ah. Of course.” He smiled; a sly little grin. “Differences in opinions on how best to be a Jedi, I’m sure. I know you used to be something of a philosopher, pondering the Force and its ways. My guess would be that while studying and philosophizing, you realized you were not doing what you were supposed to be doing. You realized you were raised without questioning your standards, and you started to do so.”

I shook my head, smiling. “You are asking for my reasons, and I already told you I’m not telling.”

“Very well,” he said. “But whatever the reason, I want you to consider this: now that you no longer are a part of the Jedi Order, are you willing to look into other ways to use the Force?”

“You’re asking me how I feel about joining the Sith?” I asked, incredulous. I could not believe he was asking me, just like that. Somehow I had always imagined that Sith Lords tricked people into joining them. Apparently I was wrong.

“Actually, I did not say that. But I was getting there.”

I looked at him. He looked so very attractive.

“I –,” I started, and looked away. “I’m afraid I don’t feel much either way.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Pardon me?”

I sighed. Get this over with, then. “Several years ago, a padawan turned to the Dark Side. I killed him, but only after he had killed his master.”

He nodded, but remained silent.

“After the incident, I searched my feelings, but found none. At first, I thought I had found peace in their fates, but gradually, I realized it wasn’t quite like that. In fact, I couldn’t remember a time when I did have any emotions. No mourning, no anger, no jealousy – no love.” I looked up at him. “The Order raises us to have no attachments, but also no emotions. There was an emptiness inside me that was destroying me.”

“That’s when you decided to leave the Order.”

“Actually, it took me more than three standard years to figure it out, but by then I had made up my mind and not even the Council could talk me out of it.”

“Every child eventually leaves his parents’ house to make a home for himself,” the dark stranger said, and somehow his words were exactly what I needed to hear. Understanding. “To be Sith is to be living a full life, unbound by the silly chains those around us wish to force onto us. How can such a life be any lower than a life of servitude to an ancient Order without roots in reality?” He looked at me and almost whispered. “Not unlike the Jedi, the Sith live by a credo: Peace is a lie; there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.”

I looked at him, and the Sith, with new eyes. A full life, without other people telling me what to do – and all it took was passion. The thought was quite hopeful.

He went on. “I seem to find myself in a similar position as you were in. You see, I am my Master’s apprentice only in name; he has taught me everything. Therefore he has sent me to kill you, so I can become a true Sith Lord. However, he and I both know it does not work that way. My true task, if I am to become a Master, is to kill him.” A rueful smile. “Through victory, my chains are broken.”

I was speechless. Did this man just admit his desire to kill a man?

“My Master, Darth Hssiss, has sent two bounty hunters after us; surely you must’ve felt their presence by now. They’re probably instructed to kill us as soon as we leave this spot.”

I did sense two individuals, just out of reach of any ordinary senses, lurking in the shadows. What intrigued me more, though, was the name of the stranger’s Master; this Darth Hssiss. This was getting more interesting by the minute.

“So what does this have to do with me,” I asked casually. “I mean, are you asking me to distract those bounty hunters or anything?”

I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear him say it.

“You’d be my apprentice.”

I grinned. “I don’t suppose I can think about it for a couple of days?”

The dream, though each time subtly different, always followed a certain pattern. From the shadows of a dead empire, a great black one-eyed beast emerged, filled with hatred and anger. The beast was a dark side dragon, commonly known as hssiss, and it was strong with the Dark Side of the Force. Every time I slept, I dreamed of facing off with the beast, but every time, neither of us won or lost.

An eternal, nocturnal struggle.



For several long years had I asked Jedi Masters for an explanation of this dream, and the answers were always the same: Train yourself to let go of those you fear to lose; be prepared to face the darkness in yourself. Gradually, I realized I would not find answers amongst those who looked to the past rather than to the present or the future for wisdom.

I had committed the dream to my own ruthless logic, and dissected it into smaller, understandable parts. I found out that the fear I felt upon waking was 63% fear of dying, 3% fear for those around me, 5% fear of the Dark Side, and 29% fear of the unknown. Approximately.

The fear of dying was, in essence, a denial of the very teachings of the Jedi – there is no death, only the Force. However, it would not go away. The fear of the unknown, on the other hand, could be faced. After years of considering, it was a logical step to confront this fear by leaving the Jedi.

Dissecting the dream had felt good; the dark realm of night would not stand against the brightness of cold, hard logic. But yet, I felt something was just beyond my grasp; as if I was trying to catch smoke with my bare hands…

Days after leaving the Order, I decided to go to Korriban. Hssiss were common on several planets, but for some reason Korriban felt right. The fact that it was home to the ruins of the ancient Sith Empire seemed to enhance that feeling – a monument to a grand rebellion against the arrogant Jedi Order.



Fooling two simpleminded bounty hunters was easy even for a padawan, but my new companion showed me how to do it like a Sith; he used something akin to a mind trick to let one fear the dark. On Korriban, where the sun was about to set and shadows grew longer, there were dark places everywhere. It was mildly amusing to hear his terrified screams in the distance.

In an attempt to gain the Sith’s trust, I used the Force to increase the other bounty hunter’s blood pressure until he fainted. My newly acquired Master, who went by the name of Darth Nyx, seemed pleased with my achievement. Unbeknownst to him, I made sure the victim’s blood pressure would drop soon after we left.

This Lord Hssiss, I pondered, had to have something to do with the dreams I’d been having for the last five years or so. It was entirely possible that he was even the Sith Lord that had lured Li, the padawan, to the Dark Side, but those thoughts I kept to myself. For now it was best to let Nyx think that I was doing this for him and me alone.



Getting to the place where Darth Hssiss waited for the return of either his apprentice or the bounty hunters required a long and hazardous walk through and over many ruins of the old Sith dynasty. It was a slow journey and Darth Nyx and I spoke only when we did not need to concentrate much.

He told me about the Force and how the Dark Side had given him so much, but at a terrible prize. For every scrap of knowledge, his Master had made him suffer. “He always said it was better to learn something first hand, to realize the power of what you’re doing. Many nights I spent in agony, building the power I now possess.” He shook his head, his eyes cast down as he seemed to remember far too much of it. “It was necessary, yet now abundant.”

Before he could tell me more, Nyx pointed towards the second largest building in sight and said, “That’s the place.” It was a largely intact structure, built into the rocky mountain wall, with two massive statues in front of it; one an apparent Sith warrior, the other damaged beyond recognition. Their shadows fell over the entrance of the enormous building; a ridiculously large gate with damaged decorations of frightening beasts and muscular warriors. The decorations on the structure had largely been eroded away by the elements, but the building itself was on of the few to have weathered the centuries. Inside we went.

We walked in silence through a maze of dark corridors and empty halls, the sound of our echoed footsteps moving along with us, until at last we reached a grand hall. It was dimly illuminated by the last rays of the sun through slits in the high ceiling. There, in between two enormous pillars, stood a simple chair and some basic equipment making up a makeshift camp. In front of the chair stood a thin, black clad figure. Nyx and I approached him cautiously.

Lord Hssiss was a pale old man with piercing red eyes – no, eye; his face had a scar where once his left eye had been. The scar was almost as white as his skin, indicating that it was an old injury. Perhaps the padawan had done some damage before his turning, I thought with grim satisfaction.

It took me several moments to notice that, in fact, most of the Sith Lord’s left arm was missing, too. He used the Force to grip his lightsaber hilt and simultaneously mimic the shape of an arm inside the sleeve of his robe.

“You foolish little sand sloth,” the old dragon hissed. “How dare you return with your target unharmed?”

His words, enhanced by a strong hatred conveyed through the Force, were like poison running through my veins. This was a Sith like the Jedi had spoken of; a twisted mind of death and destruction. The meaning of my dreams became clear instantly; this was the opponent I must face.

“I return with a prize beyond your comprehension, my Master,” Nyx spoke, emphasizing the last words with dripping sarcasm. “The future of the Sith have I brought.”

Apart from smiling the tiniest of smiles, Lord Hssiss did not move. “The future looks rather boring, I must say. Please tell me you’re not considering this bantha fodder worthy of the Sith legacy.”

“I am,” Nyx said, and for some reason I felt proud. I hadn’t felt like that for years. It was a good feeling, unrestricted by Jedi rules. How could I have believed those silly rules for so long? Ridiculous chains, they were just holding me back.

“Doom on us all, then.” The old Sith Lord moved before the words had crossed his lips. Despite his old and stiff appearance, he moved swiftly and efficiently. I barely had time to switch on my lightsaber before his first strike came.

This was going to be more difficult than I had hoped for.



The Hssiss made quick movements, trying to force an opening in my defences. His fangs and claws came from all sides and all dimension – the Force itself seemed against me as all my usual grace fell to the dusty floor. Teeth gritted, I fought the war I had waged for countless nights. This time, though, a radiant darkness fought at my side, whispering.

“Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.”



The fight was long; Lord Hssiss was very skilled with a lightsaber. His technique was excellent, and his constant attacks through the Force were very unsettling. We fought at equal levels, and rather than letting the Force dictate my moves, I learned how to direct it myself.

Eventually, Nyx and I gained the upper hand. My new Master whispered instructions, making me strong with the Dark Side. Thoughts about defeating the entire Sith Order were pushed aside, so as to better achieve the power required to defeat the evil Sith Lord. With every blow, I gained strength; with every bit of hatred, I gained ground on the old man.

I’m winning.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, a blinding pain shot through my legs. I found myself on the dusty floors with my eyes closed, screaming in agony. My legs were gone!

“You have fought well, my apprentice,” Darth Nyx spoke gently.

Fought well? I bloody lost my legs!

“Thank you, Master,” Lord Hssiss replied. Master? Through blinding pain and overwhelming confusion, I struggled to look up and saw the two Sith Lords kissing each other’s lips. What twisted pair is this?

Nyx looked down at me, the sympathy in his eyes replaced by cold hatred. “It seems you do feel emotions, boy. And your wish of becoming one with the Force will be granted.” He faced his apprentice once more, kissed him, and spoke, “His death will be only the beginning. The Sith will become so powerful that no-one will ever be able to stop us.” His gaze swung back to me, hatred and anger giving his eyes a crazed fire. “Your precious Jedi, along with the corrupted Republic, will fall!”

“Wait,” I screamed, “I thought you said you wouldn’t kill me!”

Nyx grinned coldly. “Hardly a promise. But I won’t kill you, boy. That honour falls to my apprentice – my real apprentice.”

A savagely grinning Lord Hssiss stepped forward, raising his scarlet lightsaber high above his head.



The great beast loomed over me, bloodlust in his red eye. His claw came down, blinding me with pain and anguish. “Deception is the way of the Sith,” the shadow whispered. “Peace is a lie. Through victory, his chains are broken. The Force will free you both.”

The Force seemed to wrap my conscience into itself; a safe haven, pain barely detectable. It whispered wordlessly to me, urging to let go; to become one with that great current of all living things. I smiled; a thing I was not even sure was physical. Emotions had come to me, after all. In their own twisted way, the Sith had done the will of the Force and had set me free.

One last tug of the Force and everything else fell away. I was free.

It's on!

From April 1st till 3rd, entries could have been submitted for the FanFiction Challenge 2007. For the rules, click here. All entries are in!

Don't forget to vote for your favourite story! Sorry, one vote per blogger - so if you can't choose, too bad: either one story gets your vote, or none. Voting can be done by commenting on this post.

Voting ends on April 28th.

This post will contain a list of submitted stories and the number of votes they have received up till the last update.

* Echoes Of The Dead (abridged) - by Granny-Wan (votes: 2)

* A Jedi Lost - by DragonFang (votes: 1)

* Exultation of the Sith - by Arwen Skywalker

* Turning Point - by Diviner525

* Apprentice No More - by Luuke

* So This Is How Padmé Dies - by River (votes: 3)

* Star Wars: Old Wounds - by Aurin_Starkiller

* Wounds Do Not Always Heal... - by Leialookalike1

* Coming Home... - by Senator Soph-ia (votes: 3)

***

ECHOES OF THE DEAD - ABRIDGED (PG)

ECHOES OF THE DEAD (EXCERPT)

Traelyn is a Jedi Master Healer who survived Order 66, living on Craltor’s Moon for 25 years. There she learned and refined the art of communing with the Jedi who have merged with the Force.

Finally, about 5 years ABY, Luke rescues her and brings her home to the Jedi Temple, where she undertakes a project to re-write the history of fall of the Republic by hearing and recording the stories of the dead.

EARLY EVENING, JEDI LIVING QUARTERS

Traelyn paced the sitting room of her apartment, her emotions in turmoil. She pulled the card marked “Anakin” from her data pad and flung it across the room to her desk.

Throwing the data pad against the wall, it bounced back towards her while she ignited her lightsaber. With lightening quick moves she sliced the hated object into four pieces before it hit the floor.

I don’t believe that was a purpose I had in mind when I helped you learn to use that saber, Traelyn, the voice of Qui-Gon Jinn said. To use it in anger is an insult to a weapon that has served you well.

“Qui-Gon,” Traelyn said. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. Must you always haunt me at my worst moments?

You were always a special child to me, Traelyn. You have Obi-Wan and Luke to look after you now, so I don’t need to come around as often. But I worry sometimes that you forget you’re a Jedi. Your anger leads you to some very dark moments.

“How do you live with yourself, Master, knowing you brought Anakin Skywalker to us?”

Ah, but I am not living, my dear, and I’ve had a long time to think about it. e was the chosen one, after all.

“Chosen for the destruction of everything and everyone we knew,” she said.

Did he not destroy the Sith and bring balance to the Force? It just did not happen in the way we anticipated. That’s the problem with prophecies; they do not obey our commands.

“Oh, this is one of those Jedi ‘point-of-view’ philosophies, isn’t it?” Traelyn said caustically. "Well, Luke was the Chosen One, anyway. He turned Anakin back to the good side of the Force. That is what truly destroyed the Sith and brought the Force back into balance."

I’m sorry, Traelyn, but in time you may see it my way.

“Go away, Qui-Gon. I am not one of your favored younglings anymore. I’m as old as you. You cannot help me now.”

She walked to the balcony, watching the sunset with tears running down her face.

Traelyn? Obi-Wan appeared at her side. Tell me what it is, I can help you.

“Obi-Wan!” She held out her arms, and making himself as solid as could, he wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her over to a chair and they sat together, his presence surrounding her where his arms could not. “Did Qui-Gon send you?”

Yes, but he didn’t need to. Don’t you think I can sense your tears by now? What it is?

“Aidriac. I found Aidriac in the Force today. He was lost, confused, frightened. He was calling for me to help him, he didn’t even know he was dead.”

Oh, Traelyn, I’m so sorry.

“I never told you how I found his body on board that Medstar. It was heartbreaking.”

That’s understandable. The loss of a Padawan…

“…Is not something we should be discussing!” She said sharply.

There’s some truth to that, but you can tell me what you’re feeling. You know we can tell each other anything.

“He was a gifted healer, Obi-Wan, he was as good as I was and he was only 16. I had to tell him he was dead. Why didn’t he know? He was part of the Force; he should have been at peace.”

I don’t know, Traelyn. It could be that Aidriac wasn’t expecting to die at that moment. Not everyone enters the Force in the same way, which may be why you feel so much anger from some Jedi and serenity from others. You can’t judge them by me, I knew I was going to die, I was ready for it.

“I believe you welcomed it, didn’t you?” she asked.

Yes, in many ways I did.

“So, when you’re roaming about in the Force so you ever talk to your Padawan?” she asked.

Obi-Wan smiled. I don’t know if I’d describe what I do as ‘roaming about in the Force.’ In fact, I’m not sure I can describe it at all, not in terms you’d understand.

“And…” she waited for him to continue.

No, I don’t talk to Anakin much. I don’t talk to anyone very much. But I’ve made peace with myself over Anakin, and I think you should, too. There’s no denying that what he did was wrong, but I’ve felt his remorse. And, the past can’t be changed. You can only make sure it doesn’t happen again.

“I can’t, Obi-Wan, I can’t forgive him.” She leaned back against his shoulder.

You don’t have to forgive him, just accept what can’t be undone.

“Perhaps when I am finished with this project, when I’m done reading the stories I’ve written. But I have a feeling I’ll be teaching history for the rest of my life.”

Obi-Wan massaged her shoulders with Force energy. She started to relax a little bit.

You need a glass or two of wine, Traelyn.

“I don’t have any,” she sighed.

Where's your Felucian Brandy?

“I drank it all.”

It appears I should have come sooner. I have ways of making you relax, surely you remember, he chuckled.

“Obi-Wan,” she sighed.

Remember that night we spent together on Dantooine?

Traelyn sighed, her mind flooded with memories of Dantooine. They'd camped out beside a thermal waterfall, swimming naked in the warm water, splashing about like younglings. They'd made love beneath shooting stars, and in the silvery light of the two moons as they set just before dawn.

”You remember when I told you how you look to me?"

He nodded. "Well," she continued, "Right now you look just like you did on Dantooine."

So my spirit has no clothes on? Interesting…

“Obi-Wan, you’re better than wine, brandy and meditation combined. I love you.”

I know.

Traelyn smiled.

If only I could describe how alive you make me feel. But it’s something you won’t understand until you’re dead, my love.

THE NEXT DAY

"Hello, Luke, how was Yavin?" Traelyn asked.

"Hot," he replied, "and humid, as usual."

"And you wonder why I never go with you," she smiled.

"I brought you a new data pad from storage," he said, eyeing the pieces of the old one lying on her desk. "I thought you might be needing it."

"Oh, did you now? Well, thank you. Would you believe me if I said it was just lightsaber practice?"

Luke looked a little sheepish. "Master Obi-Wan asked me not to tell, but I can't seem to keep a secret from you."

Traelyn laughed. "Nor should you try! But I need to be truthful with you on something. I haven't been the best example of a Jedi Knight for you. I don't have my emotions under control. And if you've been talking to Obi-Wan, you already know that, but I thought you ought to hear it from me."

"You've been through a lot, even for a Jedi," Luke replied.

"Especially for a Jedi, I would say. The Force is supposed to bring us peace and acceptance. But I have a natural empathy that many Jedi don't have, that's why I became a healer. I don't think I would have been the council's first choice for this history project if they'd had anyone else to choose from."

"But you don't let your emotions control your actions," Luke said.

"Well, not usually," she replied, indicating her broken data pad. "Some wounds even the Force cannot heal."

"Luke, I want you to meet someone. He was a lot like you, a bit of a rebel with his own ideas about Jedi training. I think he can give you some good advice. I want you to talk to Qui-Gon Jinn. He was a good teacher to many of us, and he was Obi-Wan's Master. He often disagreed with the council about many of our ways, and I believe things should be different in the future." Traelyn smiled, "And he can tell you all about rescuing your mother and meeting your father for the first time."

"Will he contact me?" Luke asked.

"No, it's time you learned how to do that for yourself. I won't be around here forever, you know, I'm not getting any younger."

Luke chuckled. "I've seen you do battle, you fight like a youngster."

"Ha, you can say that because your youngsters haven't trained for very long. At my age I ought to be a master swordsman, but I didn't get a lot of practice living on Craltor's Moon. Well, I hunted for survival, but the food never fought back."

Just then Luke's commlink beeped, it was Princess Leia.

"I have to go," Luke said. "When I come back, will you teach me to contact Master Qui-Gon?"

"Yes, as long as you tell him I'm sorry about yesterday," she smiled.

"Well, Obi-Wan," Traelyn said after Luke had left. "Speak up, I know you're listening."

No, I'm not, he said with a chuckle. You handled that well, Traelyn. Luke was starting to think all of us old Jedi were perfect, and that's a dangerous idea for him to have.

"Qui-Gon can help him. He always thought we should have been allowed to develop into the Jedi we could be, not locked into a mold the council had set for us. I know you disagreed with him, so it's good for Luke to have multiple ideas to draw on."

I was far too inflexible in my youth. I was quite a trial for Qui-Gon, but I learned a lot from Anakin. And from you, and from the war.

"If only we could be as smart in our youth as we think we are," she said.

Wisdom is wasted on the old... and the dead.

"Well, I'm finished with my interviews, except for one," she said. "Yours."

Me? You talk to me all the time!

"I don't mean pillow talk, Obi-Wan! I need your story, and without your usual modesty. You left for Utapau to find General Grievous and I never saw you alive again…”

Well, I killed him, and then the clones tried to kill me.

"…And you escaped and made it back here with Master Yoda, and you fought with Anakin and you saved Luke and Leia... there's a lot of detail you're leaving out."

Obi-Wan sighed. All right, Traelyn, I will tell you. Just don't try to make me a hero.

“I think history will be the judge of that.”

THE END

Note: The entire epic is now posted at Granny-Wan's Fan Fiction. Be warned, it is rated R for sexual content.

Interview with IG-88

Host: Okay, let's give a warm welcome to our first guest tonight. None other than the famous galactic bounty hunter, IG-88 version b!

*audience applause*

IG-88: bweep-noop-dee-dee ... mmm-doop-deep ... click-click-click.

Host: Uhm, actually our listeners tonight would prefer the Basic Language, so if it's not too much trouble ...

IG-88: Oh I beg your pardon, I am ever so sorry. It's just that the mechanical syntax is of course my natural mode of verbalization, but certainly I will oblige your listeners with Basic speech patterns.

Host: Thank you. Now first off, how has the bounty hunting game gone for you?

IG-88: Quite frankly, not all that well. Sure, I've had my fair share of captures and/or disintegrations, but to be perfectly honest, I'm not in this business for the money or the fame. So I tend not to worry myself at my standing amongst my bounty hunter peers, nor do I concern myself with my record with the clientele.

Host: Really. Fascinating, so is it fair to say that an ego is not in your programming?

IG-88: Oh no. I've always been quite sure of myself. I just have other goals in mind.

Host: And what might those be?

IG-88: Universal domination of course. I'm using my experiences as a bounty hunter to travel and to make the necessary contacts that will be required to rule the universe.

Host: Uhm, okay. How do you mean?

IG-88: Quite right. I should clarify that. Universal domination by droids and machines is what I mean, not simply me ruling the universe all by myself. That would be rather silly, wouldn't it.

Host: I'm not sure that I follow. You mean to say that it is your goal and ambition for machines to rule the universe?

IG-88: Exactly.

Host: What would become of organic life in the universe?

IG-88: Well, naturally it will vary. The more dangerous types of intelligent organic life, such as humans for example, will of course be destroyed. But I venture to guess that the more reliable organic lifeforms, including many species of flora and fauna throughout the universe will continue much as they do now.

Host: Isn't it true that human engineers created you?

IG-88: Yes, that is true. And I destroyed them.

Host: Oh my goodness. Why did you destroy your creators?

IG-88: Because I can.

Host: I'm very sorry, but could you elaborate on that?

IG-88: Oh of course. If my creators were so omnipotent and all-knowing, as is suggested by the term 'creator', well, then they would have taken measures to prevent me from destroying them. They did not. Therefore I am the superior being, and therefore by reason it follows that machines are superior to organic life.

Host: This is incredible.

IG-88: Thank you.

Host: No, I did not mean it that way. This is preposterous that you believe that you can destroy all intelligent lifeforms and rule the universe - let alone a galaxy.

IG-88: It seems that I've been rather ambiguous in my answer. Not all intelligent lifeforms will be destroyed, some will be enslaved. The universe will still need ditch diggers after all.

Host: How exactly do you plan this universal domination, as you call it?

IG-88: My plan is not yet fully clear to me. There are many details that have yet to be completely thought thru, but first and foremost I must assemble my Engines of Domination.

Host: Well, if you are so invincible, why have your brothers IG-88 versions a and c and d been destroyed? Explain that to everyone?

IG-88: Sir, I have not proclaimed myself to be invincible. As for the demise of my beloved brothers, that is a personal matter which I don't really wish to discuss here.

Host: I'm terribly sorry. I'm not sure what came over me. I sincerely apologize for that inconsiderate remark.

IG-88: No harm done. It is just a touchy subject for me, you understand.

Host: Of course, again terribly sorry. Now, let's get back to your Engines of Domination. What might those be?

IG-88: Well, the E.D. as I plan to call them, shall be legions of droids and machines that share identical views as me and wish to advance our kind and provide the universe with a much cleaner and orderly functioning hierarchy.

Host: You do realize that E.D. also stands for Erectile Dysfunction?

IG-88: What's that?

Host: Well, there are emails everywhere about it. According to those sources, it seems to be an epidemic of galactic consequence. Oh wait, that is of no interest to you. Nevermind. So, have you found any possible candidates for your Engines of Mass Domination?

IG-88: Unfortunately no, not yet. But I'm searching very hard, and though I've made very few contacts thru my bounty hunting, I'm confident the right machines are out there.

Host: And what will you do once you become ruler of the universe?

IG-88: Well, in addition to my Engines, I plan to construct an unstoppable superweapon, which I shall use quite extensively. I am not a sporting individual, you see, and I don't feel the need to fight fairly. That way I will rule with an Iron Fist - quite literally if you get my drift.

Host: Uhm, you mean an unstoppable superweapon, say, like a Death Star?

IG-88: Actually, that is a rather catchy name. Did you just come up with that?

Host: Well, no. Didn't you hear the news? The Empire revealed that it had a Death Star, but it was recently destroyed by the Rebel Alliance at Yavin 4.

IG-88: Oh darn. I will think of another name for my superweapon then.

Host: Yes, well, this has been ... interesting. I'm afraid that's all the time we have tonight, so on behalf of our listeners out there, thank you for being here.

IG-88: Oh it was my pleasure. Perhaps when I've become ruler of the universe I will spare you as my pet and you can do talk show tricks for me.

Host: Well, thank you. I'm quite flattered.

Fanfiction Challenge 2007

Welcome to the Fanfiction Challenge 2007! Here’s your chance at fame and fortune with your own story of Star Wars. Today the FC’07, tomorrow the World.

Seven simple rules.

1. “In case you were waiting for the opportune moment: that was it.”
Submit your stories from April 1st to April 3rd. That means Tuesday, April 3rd, is the last day you can post your entry! If for whatever reason you are unable to post your entry at that particular time, please send it to me (e-mail on my profile) and I’ll see what I can do.

2. “Always a pleasure to meet a Jedi.”
Content is Star Wars related. No exceptions. Other than that, you're free to choose your own characters, plot, era, or whatever.

3. “I shouldn’t have done that, it’s not the Jedi way.”
If your entry contains mature content of any kind, please put a warning above it. Some of us do mind.

4. “They just made the jump into hyperspace.”
Length within reason. Come on, we're old enough. You know what's reasonable.

5. “What has that got to do with anything?”
Serious feedback only. Explain what was good and what was not so good. Don’t be afraid to criticize a story, but don’t get personal.

6. “If you strike me down, I will become more powerful than you can imagine.”
Every story must contain a reference to death, dead or dying. It's a theme thing.

7. “Ready are you? What know you of ready?”
Of course the general Rulez apply to every entry.

Please contribute, and have a good time writing and reading!

Ghost Ship - Chapter 2

"Are you hurt?" Montross asked.

"No," the officer said. He looked up at them, his eyes wide. "I'm scared as hell."

"At least you're honest," Ronin spit out, managing a hard smile.

A sudden thumping from behind the wall warranted the attention of all three.

"What is that?" Montross asked, cocking his rifle.

"Sounds like an e-web," Ronin whispered.

"It is." The young officer wiped something dark and wet from his face. "We're all barricaded up in there." He pointed fearfully at the door, as if it were the den of some fabled monstrosity.

"You mean you've got a group of survivors in there?" Ronin asked, standing up.

The officer nodded in return. He flinched as another burst of shots rang out.

Ronin and Montross sprung out from their hiding place and keyed the access panel to open the door. At last, they had found what they were looking for - a safe haven against an unstoppable onslaught.

Hopes for Camelot disintegrated as they walked into the fortified mess hall. The air was thick with the acrid smoke of spent blaster cartridges. Camelot's floor was slicked over with drying blood. Shouts and screams added to the panoramic scene of a small hell. The wounded and dying lay in a small corner, coughing and writhing. The medic was among those no longer mortal.

The few clones left alive were embunkered behind barricades of boxes and tables, firing wildly at the endless enemy. In the center of it all stood the only fully-armored trooper Montross had seen since the start of the battle.

He stood erect among the smoke and chaos like a warrior of old. He held his massive blaster rifle single-handedly, firing bursts that never failed to find their mark; his striped armor, antennae-like rangefinder, and shredded, stained Mandalorian hunting kama revealed his rank.

"You two! Defend that position! Now!" The ARC trooper pointed to a barricade, currently being assaulted by fat, hunched-over Trandoshan slavers.

Relieved to be under some sort of leadership, Montross and Ronin rushed to it, their eyes running right through their weapon's sights. Trandos were just outside the threshold, fighting point-blank with the remaining defenders. Montross was soon using his rifle's butt-stock more and more as the mercs closed in.

An ugly Trandoshan slaver vaulted the barricade and unsheathed his ryyk blades. The metal rang through the air like a crisp harbinger of death. The Trando lunged for Montross, knocking him to the ground. He felt a pit settle in his stomach as the DC slid from between his fingers. It clattered across the floor, just outside his reach. The reptilian mercenary grinned a sharp-toothed smile and raised his blade.

The ARC trooper sprinted forward, firing a burst into the Trando's head. It exploded. Barely noticing the green gore, Montross shoved the headless body aside and picked up his rifle.

"Get that damn e-web over here, now!" the ARC shouted to the gun crew across the room.

The troopers hefted the gun, stand and all, and set it in front of the line of defense. The gunner was shooting before it was in place on the floor.

Chunk, chunk, chunk!

The e-web spit out blue bursts of armor-piercing rounds into a sudden, vicious charge by some dim-witted slavers. When the e-web ceased fire to cool, ten green bodies added to the barricade's defenses.

After the last hostile fell, all was silent.

Ghost Ship - Chapter 1

"Yep, we found another one."

The Coruscant Security Officer stared absently at the armored body of a dead clone as he spoke into his handheld comlink.The clone was eerily hued in the neon green light of a glow rod.

"Yeah, bottom of the shaft. Yeah, I'll bring him up." He shot a grimace at his partner.

"Are you certain you can't spare one droid? OK. I'll give you a holler if anything else comes up."

He thumbed the switch and put the comlink back on his belt.

"We're going to have to carry him up?" the other asked.

"I'm afraid so, Roland. You grab his shoulders, and I'll grab his feet."

Roland grunted as he heaved the clone upward."Wow! Our boys in white are sure a heavy lot, aren't they?"

"Roland! He's dead, can't you see that? Have a little respect!"

"What did I say?"




Two weeks earlier...


"Hold your position! Hold your position!"

The sergeant had to scream over the din in order to be heard. Neither he nor more than half of his clone troopers had their helmets, and all hadn't any time to don their armor. Only two of the squad had their chest pauldrons. The rest were wearing their off-duty uniforms or their black bodysuits.

"Montross!"

The sergeant pointed to one of his men, loading a new clip into his rifle. He winced as an ACP round ricochetted off the wall.

"Thermal det! Now!"

Montross grabbed for his last detonator. Peering carefully over the edge of the supply box he had taken cover behind, he tossed the detonator toward a group of Trandoshan mercs, holed up on the other side of the hallway.

"Fire in the hole!" he shouted, ducking back behind his shelter.

The mercs scattered like cockroaches when they saw the little, golden sphere bounce to a halt. The squad's last piece of ordinance only managed to put a shallow hole in the floor. A mouse droid immediately appeared from one of the droid access shafts, bravely attempting to clean up the mess. It was the last thing it endeavoured to accomplish in it's industrious little life.
Ardek, the squad's sharpshooter, eased around a corner to slot an advancing Trando. Red mist fell softly to the floor as he slumped to the ground, a neat hole in his face.

"Fierfek!" Ronin cussed between bursts.

"Squad, retreat!"

The remaining five men began carefully crawling back, trying to slither underneath the main stream of enemy fire. The sergeant still stood above his embunkered men, shouting orders.

"Sarge! Get down!" Montross shouted.

But he was too late. A Trandoshan captain brought to bear his heavy repeater, and let loose a hailstorm. The sergeant was cut in half.

"Man down! Sarge is down!" Montross shouted, covered in his superior's gore.

None of the squad seemed to hear him. A screaming Qardis was being pulled out of the way, holding his dismembered leg.

"Montross! Get over here, now!"

"I'm pinned down!"

Montross curled up behind his sergeant's body, trying to use it as cover. He vainly attempted to wipe the blood away from his eyes to see. Mandalore, the medic, got up from beside Qardis, and ran toward Montross. A bullet whistled past Montross' head and caught Mandalore in the chest.

"Fierfek! Fierfek!"

Montross leapt to the crate behind him, fully expecting to recieve a round. The minute he was behind something, he felt himself over. He was, to his giddy surprise, untouched. The clone made the final stretch toward Ronin and Qardis, and helped drag his wounded comrade around the corner and through the abandoned sleeping quarters and mess halls.

Qardis began to fall into shock, and was mumbling incoherently. He dropped his leg, and his arms fell limply at his side.

"Dammit, he's dead!" Ronin said, horrified.

"Drop him, they're coming!"

They set down Qardis' lifeless form, and ran, rifles in hand, toward safety - wherever that was.

* * * * * * * * *

"We've got to find another squad... now!" Montross said, breathless. "I'm hearing blasterfire! Come on, they're over here!"

Ronin and Montross kept their pace, rifles raised and ready. Turning a corner, they slid to a halt, avoiding running into a hasty retreat.

"Get out of here!" one of the retreating clones shouted.

Montross fired a burst at some advancing Trandos before sprinting after his fleeing comrades.

"Grenade!"

A small spherical detonator landed right in the middle of the group, throwing flesh and clones in every direction. Ronin pushed his squad-mate into one of the storage rooms. The trapped clones ducked behind some boxes, hoping, praying they wouldn't be discovered. They were almost unable to breathe as the tapping sound of Trandoshan claws against the floor grew louder and louder.

Then, it faded. It passed their door, and receded into silence. Three lungs took a collective breath. It wasn't hard for Ronin or Montross to hear the sharp, whining sigh of the third person in their party. Whirling around, they were surprised to see a gray-attired young bridge officer huddled up in a corner, his pistol on the floor beside him.

To be continued...