Post by Rain on Mar 28, 2008 8:52:23 GMT -5
Heres a fic I have been working on but I have slowed down on it a bit recentlly I hope to get back to work on it soon!
Chapter 1
STAR WARS: RUPTURE OF THE FORCE.
CHAPTER 1: ARCH TO ENEMY…
Mygeeto.
Why here?
The air shone with a glow of shimmering silver light, small folds in the empty atmosphere, like a flag in the wind. The effect was only given off due to the reflected light shining off the air molecules and the high concentration of ozone in the air from exploded power cables and the rounds that had been fired over and over through the cold, icy planet, but in a way, he supposed that it could be beautiful. Somebody could take a picture of this and tourists would come here on all fours, until they smelled the stench and caught sight of the ruined military equipment that lay discarded along railways and bridges.
Still, though, a person could look at the sky here for hours. It was captivating, to say the least. A marvel of the universe. From first glance the scenery was breathtaking. Snow covered mountains loomed over everything yet didn’t stop the light from shining. Mygeeto was arctic white, and usually the glare would hurt a humanoid’s sensitive eyes. Night, though, was the time for true beauty, with the three luminous moons shining bright over the white tundra.
Of course, even if he had to choose, he would have left Mygeeto for the sole fact that it had been ravaged by the war between the Separatists and the Republic. The smell of burnt machinery and ravaged bodies hadn’t seemed to have left, even though the two sides had. It was a stench that would probably remain for an eternity. Many clones had died—but why should the Republic care, anyway? He thought. They’re just mindless slaves, anyway. They never got to live—and among the fallen was Jedi General Ki-Adi-Mundi. The official reports had said that he had tried to sabotage the fleet, but he knew better. He still respected the Jedi, somewhat. Ki-Adi-Mundi hadn’t deserved his fate.
Or maybe he had. He had trusted the faceless troops, anyway.
A sharp, howling wind bit through him. His breath made mist appear. He wiped his running nose before the mucus dried above his upper lip, which was a sure thing to happen among this freezing, desolate planet.
The wind seemed to chime a chilling symphony of those souls lost and forgotten and the breathtaking scenery that had once been beautiful was now stained with the wreckage of droids and ships from both sides. He even saw the remains of a droideka, charred and obviously not active, at the foot of the bridge connecting the abandoned spaceport to the housing units, which was also riddled with blasterfire.
Cold seemed to just be hating him today. He coughed into his hands, pressing his face against the hand-warmer he had brought with him, just out of common sense. The pollution of the planet—both incidental and accidental—had weakened certain atmospheres, making the planet almost as frigid as hot ice.
It was a no-man’s land, alright. Even the natives of the planet had trouble adjusting, running their heaters to maximum, trying to pick up the damage.
He entertained a thought of the Empire sending out ships to pick up the damage, but pushed it down. No, the Empire would not. They’d leave the wreckage for some other weak underling to pick up for them. We can’t spare the resources, they would say. We’re too busy hunting Jedi and destroying families. Still, the pay was good.
Mygeeto. The place one would die if one went an hour without a form of heat.
Mygeeto. With the most beautiful skies the galaxy had ever seen.
Mygeeto. A war-zone. A wasteland.
Just another grave of the Jedi and the whole stupid war.
The question had to be asked again. Why here?
Why?
Why would the Rebels stop here? What was so important?
He gradually browsed for possible reasons within his own mind. Then it hit him like a stampeding Bantha. Evidence. They wanted evidence of the crimes of the Empire. There wasn’t much chance of them finding any though. Maybe against the CIS but they were long gone, and besides, the Republic had gone to war as well. They were just as much to blame as anyone. Still they had been manipulated, by Palpatine.
He couldn't blame the Rebels for wanting evidence. For wanting revenge.
A sardonic thought came to mind. I'd need information if I was them. I'd want to kill the Empire!
The sound of the icy snow crunching as he walked came to an abrupt halt. He looked up. There it was.
The Mandalorian Arch.
Long ago in the time of Revan and the Sith, the Mandalorians had an outpost on nearly every planet, even ones as desolate and barren as Mygeeto. Some more so.
But he wasn’t here to find Mandalorians. Just like the war they were long gone. He was here to find Han Solo. The Rebels. The enemy.
In the distance he saw the Millennium Falcon and a number of other ships.
“Gotcha!”
He flipped on his comm. “Lord Vader, this is Byson Marx. I’ve found them.”
Chapter 2:
CHAPTER 2: INTO THE DRAGON’S LAIR…
The sweltering heat given off by the suns was nigh unbearable. It could make even the toughest warriors crumble. The twin giants had slain many a stranded traveller in their time, but they weren’t going to take the life of Obi Wan Kenobi. For he was a Jedi Master, and even the Twin Suns of Tatooine bowed before a person of such honour and nobility.
It was a full two years after Palpatine gave out Order 66 to Clones Commanders across the Galaxy. The Jedi were all but extinct now, savagely betrayed and mercilessly slain.
It was a time of great pain and sadness for everyone. But not the Empire.
The Jedi fell one by one, and some fell in a different way. In a much more sinister way. Some had fallen to the Dark Side of the Force, giving in to the spite and treachery of the ‘Emperor’.
Obi Wan felt a familiar pang deep in his heart as he remembered Anakin. Old wounds, caused by a blade of remorse, slowly opened up. Obi Wan shook his head as the wounds quickly resealed themselves again.
Anakin Skywalker.
His former partner.
His former comrade.
His former brother.
But Anakin, like most of the Jedi, could not be saved.
It had seemed there was no hope left. But Obi Wan knew better. There was Luke, whom he was watching over from a distance, and Leia who was being watched over by Bail Organa and his wife Queen Breha on Alderaan. The Empire knew not of these two. Only a few did.
Obi Wan trudged along cautiously.
The Jundland Wastes were not to be travelled lightly. They were a death-trap.
The faint rumblings of Tusken roars could be heard echoing from the other side of the vast desert that covered this sparse planet and in the distance Obi Wan could make out a Jawa Sandcrawler.
The Jawas were a timid species. Not warriors, not fighters. They were peaceful, and that is what made them such easy targets for the Tusken Raiders.
They specialized in scavenging, picking up anything they could find in the desert and selling them to local moisture farmers like the Lars. Although despite their friendliness and peacefulness they would pull a fast one on anyone.
If ever you bought from a Jawa, never give them the money until you have fully checked and scanned the item you are purchasing. It would likely have a few loose screws or a faulty motivator.
But the time for taking in the sights and sounds of Tatooine had ended.
Obi Wan had reached his destination.
The Lars Homestead.
The home of Luke Skywalker and his guardians Owen and Beru Lars.
Reasoning with them, wasn’t going to be easy…
***
“Are you sure they will fall for this?” Lando Calrissian questioned.
“Stop worrying!”
“It’ll work, trust me.” Aayla Secura reassured, “And Xandyr is right Lando, stop worrying!”
“Alright, alright. I’ll stop!”
“So what we just sit here and wait for someone to show up?” Asked Talon Karrde.
“Patience, they will be here soon enough.” Aayla once again reassured.
“You ‘scoundrels’ are a bit cowardly today aren’t ya!” Joked Xandyr Foxx.
“Just cautious that’s all. Responsibility. You should try it sometime!”
They were all crouched around a small fire, which was necessary when on Mygeeto, in a clear area, circled by their vehicles.
Xandyr Foxx.
He was a rogue. Not Jedi. Most definitely not Sith.
Aayla Secura.
A Jedi Master. She was believed to have died on Felucia, yet she escaped without attracting the attention of the empire.
Talon Karrde.
A smuggler and owner of The Wild Karrde.
And Lando Calrissian.
Good friend of Han Solo, ex-smuggler, owner of The Centurian Hawk, a YT-1300 Corellian Corvette almost identical to the Millennium Falcon. He was also the proud Baron Administrator of Cloud City on the planet Bespin.
They were all here as part of the Rebellion. In other words, they were sworn family.
The plan was simple. Wait until someone or something noticed them.
“Guys…” Xandyr chimed in, “Looks got we got ourselves a visitor.”
They looked in the direction he was pointing and sure enough there he was.
Byson Marx.
They knew all about him. He was as gullible as they came.
Karrde smiled.
“This ought to be fun!”
Chapter 1
STAR WARS: RUPTURE OF THE FORCE.
CHAPTER 1: ARCH TO ENEMY…
Mygeeto.
Why here?
The air shone with a glow of shimmering silver light, small folds in the empty atmosphere, like a flag in the wind. The effect was only given off due to the reflected light shining off the air molecules and the high concentration of ozone in the air from exploded power cables and the rounds that had been fired over and over through the cold, icy planet, but in a way, he supposed that it could be beautiful. Somebody could take a picture of this and tourists would come here on all fours, until they smelled the stench and caught sight of the ruined military equipment that lay discarded along railways and bridges.
Still, though, a person could look at the sky here for hours. It was captivating, to say the least. A marvel of the universe. From first glance the scenery was breathtaking. Snow covered mountains loomed over everything yet didn’t stop the light from shining. Mygeeto was arctic white, and usually the glare would hurt a humanoid’s sensitive eyes. Night, though, was the time for true beauty, with the three luminous moons shining bright over the white tundra.
Of course, even if he had to choose, he would have left Mygeeto for the sole fact that it had been ravaged by the war between the Separatists and the Republic. The smell of burnt machinery and ravaged bodies hadn’t seemed to have left, even though the two sides had. It was a stench that would probably remain for an eternity. Many clones had died—but why should the Republic care, anyway? He thought. They’re just mindless slaves, anyway. They never got to live—and among the fallen was Jedi General Ki-Adi-Mundi. The official reports had said that he had tried to sabotage the fleet, but he knew better. He still respected the Jedi, somewhat. Ki-Adi-Mundi hadn’t deserved his fate.
Or maybe he had. He had trusted the faceless troops, anyway.
A sharp, howling wind bit through him. His breath made mist appear. He wiped his running nose before the mucus dried above his upper lip, which was a sure thing to happen among this freezing, desolate planet.
The wind seemed to chime a chilling symphony of those souls lost and forgotten and the breathtaking scenery that had once been beautiful was now stained with the wreckage of droids and ships from both sides. He even saw the remains of a droideka, charred and obviously not active, at the foot of the bridge connecting the abandoned spaceport to the housing units, which was also riddled with blasterfire.
Cold seemed to just be hating him today. He coughed into his hands, pressing his face against the hand-warmer he had brought with him, just out of common sense. The pollution of the planet—both incidental and accidental—had weakened certain atmospheres, making the planet almost as frigid as hot ice.
It was a no-man’s land, alright. Even the natives of the planet had trouble adjusting, running their heaters to maximum, trying to pick up the damage.
He entertained a thought of the Empire sending out ships to pick up the damage, but pushed it down. No, the Empire would not. They’d leave the wreckage for some other weak underling to pick up for them. We can’t spare the resources, they would say. We’re too busy hunting Jedi and destroying families. Still, the pay was good.
Mygeeto. The place one would die if one went an hour without a form of heat.
Mygeeto. With the most beautiful skies the galaxy had ever seen.
Mygeeto. A war-zone. A wasteland.
Just another grave of the Jedi and the whole stupid war.
The question had to be asked again. Why here?
Why?
Why would the Rebels stop here? What was so important?
He gradually browsed for possible reasons within his own mind. Then it hit him like a stampeding Bantha. Evidence. They wanted evidence of the crimes of the Empire. There wasn’t much chance of them finding any though. Maybe against the CIS but they were long gone, and besides, the Republic had gone to war as well. They were just as much to blame as anyone. Still they had been manipulated, by Palpatine.
He couldn't blame the Rebels for wanting evidence. For wanting revenge.
A sardonic thought came to mind. I'd need information if I was them. I'd want to kill the Empire!
The sound of the icy snow crunching as he walked came to an abrupt halt. He looked up. There it was.
The Mandalorian Arch.
Long ago in the time of Revan and the Sith, the Mandalorians had an outpost on nearly every planet, even ones as desolate and barren as Mygeeto. Some more so.
But he wasn’t here to find Mandalorians. Just like the war they were long gone. He was here to find Han Solo. The Rebels. The enemy.
In the distance he saw the Millennium Falcon and a number of other ships.
“Gotcha!”
He flipped on his comm. “Lord Vader, this is Byson Marx. I’ve found them.”
Chapter 2:
CHAPTER 2: INTO THE DRAGON’S LAIR…
The sweltering heat given off by the suns was nigh unbearable. It could make even the toughest warriors crumble. The twin giants had slain many a stranded traveller in their time, but they weren’t going to take the life of Obi Wan Kenobi. For he was a Jedi Master, and even the Twin Suns of Tatooine bowed before a person of such honour and nobility.
It was a full two years after Palpatine gave out Order 66 to Clones Commanders across the Galaxy. The Jedi were all but extinct now, savagely betrayed and mercilessly slain.
It was a time of great pain and sadness for everyone. But not the Empire.
The Jedi fell one by one, and some fell in a different way. In a much more sinister way. Some had fallen to the Dark Side of the Force, giving in to the spite and treachery of the ‘Emperor’.
Obi Wan felt a familiar pang deep in his heart as he remembered Anakin. Old wounds, caused by a blade of remorse, slowly opened up. Obi Wan shook his head as the wounds quickly resealed themselves again.
Anakin Skywalker.
His former partner.
His former comrade.
His former brother.
But Anakin, like most of the Jedi, could not be saved.
It had seemed there was no hope left. But Obi Wan knew better. There was Luke, whom he was watching over from a distance, and Leia who was being watched over by Bail Organa and his wife Queen Breha on Alderaan. The Empire knew not of these two. Only a few did.
Obi Wan trudged along cautiously.
The Jundland Wastes were not to be travelled lightly. They were a death-trap.
The faint rumblings of Tusken roars could be heard echoing from the other side of the vast desert that covered this sparse planet and in the distance Obi Wan could make out a Jawa Sandcrawler.
The Jawas were a timid species. Not warriors, not fighters. They were peaceful, and that is what made them such easy targets for the Tusken Raiders.
They specialized in scavenging, picking up anything they could find in the desert and selling them to local moisture farmers like the Lars. Although despite their friendliness and peacefulness they would pull a fast one on anyone.
If ever you bought from a Jawa, never give them the money until you have fully checked and scanned the item you are purchasing. It would likely have a few loose screws or a faulty motivator.
But the time for taking in the sights and sounds of Tatooine had ended.
Obi Wan had reached his destination.
The Lars Homestead.
The home of Luke Skywalker and his guardians Owen and Beru Lars.
Reasoning with them, wasn’t going to be easy…
***
“Are you sure they will fall for this?” Lando Calrissian questioned.
“Stop worrying!”
“It’ll work, trust me.” Aayla Secura reassured, “And Xandyr is right Lando, stop worrying!”
“Alright, alright. I’ll stop!”
“So what we just sit here and wait for someone to show up?” Asked Talon Karrde.
“Patience, they will be here soon enough.” Aayla once again reassured.
“You ‘scoundrels’ are a bit cowardly today aren’t ya!” Joked Xandyr Foxx.
“Just cautious that’s all. Responsibility. You should try it sometime!”
They were all crouched around a small fire, which was necessary when on Mygeeto, in a clear area, circled by their vehicles.
Xandyr Foxx.
He was a rogue. Not Jedi. Most definitely not Sith.
Aayla Secura.
A Jedi Master. She was believed to have died on Felucia, yet she escaped without attracting the attention of the empire.
Talon Karrde.
A smuggler and owner of The Wild Karrde.
And Lando Calrissian.
Good friend of Han Solo, ex-smuggler, owner of The Centurian Hawk, a YT-1300 Corellian Corvette almost identical to the Millennium Falcon. He was also the proud Baron Administrator of Cloud City on the planet Bespin.
They were all here as part of the Rebellion. In other words, they were sworn family.
The plan was simple. Wait until someone or something noticed them.
“Guys…” Xandyr chimed in, “Looks got we got ourselves a visitor.”
They looked in the direction he was pointing and sure enough there he was.
Byson Marx.
They knew all about him. He was as gullible as they came.
Karrde smiled.
“This ought to be fun!”