#he just killed a bunch of easily-replaceable stormtroopers

[stairset]

Love the idea here that the other rebels' problem with Saw is just that he blows shit up and not the whole "torturing prisoners and endangering civilians" thing

[elmidol]

Where the Body Burns - Chapter 2 (NSFW)

Read on AO3

Read Ch. 1

(Banner includes art for fic by @clumsycopy )

[Inspired by Fix Your Attitude by @kylorengarbagedump and Keeping Your Promise by @strongtwiheart ]

Chapter Summary: Kylo Ren senses your thoughts and has you prove yourself worthy.

Words: 5,100

Chapter Warnings:  dubcon; possible blasphemous thoughts/themes

Exaltation

 Beeping preceded a whirr, suction, hiss, and then the pattern returned to the beginning. Some gods reigned over life and others chose to favor death. You stood above the bed in medbay staring down at the body of the slumbering officer who teetered between the two. Which god would claim him? That was a question not even the medics, droid and human, could yet answer. The horror that had flooded through the hangar upon witnessing the assault had less of an impact for many after it had been revealed what the man had been praying for. The Force remained a mythical power that most did not understand. What was known or believed by the majority who entertained its existence was that those capable of wielding its power could sense things others could not. This included intention and disturbances. The officer lying prone on the medbay bed had not been the first to pray that Kylo Ren would be humbled or even perish in an upcoming fight. Nor would he be the last. Within the First Order, Kylo Ren was one of the few who had tasted a sort of godhood that others could only dream of. He would never be a god of mercy.

Some pilots arrogantly believed that they were the master of the galaxy because they could fly amongst the stars. They sought to touch godhood. Weightlessness went to their heads. The power of weaponry twisted their minds and built upon the egos that had started to inflate when they had slid into the cockpit of whatever vessel they could. The slang was flyboy. Cockpit. It was not only the male gender that could claim their wings--although this did vary on the planet in question as to the ease the gender granted--however the focus did remain. TIE pilots had a high mortality rate. It was more dangerous and addicting than spice in many respects yet just as deadly. A quicker death, in fact. The lack of drawn out, long term consequences was a siren’s whisper.

 You wondered for another time which god or gods the officer had prayed to, this man who would be incapable of proper speech due to the mutilation of his tongue and teeth. Bacta surrounded his mouth in a way not dissimilar to the salve that had been used on your lips after your promotion. The order for the salve had been submitted by Commander Kylo Ren himself, and it had arrived alongside a new badge. You toyed with the identification badge whilst staring at the wounded officer. An IV fed the saline solution to keep him hydrated. Earlier a droid had injected painkillers through the IV, although as to the exact drug used that remained a mystery.

 All these men and their false gods working to own the stars that stretched across the vastness of space. Even this officer, who teetered on the edge of oblivion, ignored the signs that his actions were foolhardy; on each occasion that one shook their fists in defiance of true greatness, it was akin to a child stubbornly rejecting the existence of air. Unseen but felt. Some paid for these foolish endeavors at dismantling the truth of Kylo Ren's power with their lives. This officer had paid with his tongue--and you had paid with your name.

 The new identification badge bore the same alphanumeric combination as your previous one, however in place of your birth name was a single word: Spacedust. The gluttonous god gave you a taste of his malevolence as a promise to destroy you should you disappoint him. Unlike this officer, however, you had been granted a sign of what you took to be respect: Commander Kylo Ren had not robbed you of your voice, and furthermore had demanded to hear his name with it. As though your tongue was meant to worship him. He demanded praise from you. To deny him was to reject transcension. Your wings would be clipped if you failed to obey this merciless god whose wrath was swift.

 You touched your shoulders with arms crossed over your chest in a weak embrace that failed to offer a semblance of warmth. The air in medbay was stale and with a chill. Two blankets covered the injured officer. One of the nurse droids smoothed out wrinkled each time it came by. You touched the edge of the top blanket, once more bunching it together towards the officer’s abdomen. His eyes dashed back and forth behind their lids. You, bent at a sharp angle, peered at his face for signs of consciousness. A single flicker would have captured your breath. Disappointment wafted through you. Straightening, you turned on your heel and headed towards the transparisteel doors that slid in opposite directions from one another to permit you leave.

 The transfer into Kylo Ren’s direct command entailed that you left this base when he did. Likewise there would be no climbing into a TIE fighter unless flying alongside him and the others in the unit. As it was, due to Supreme Leader Snoke’s orders, you were grounded. It was enough to drive any pilot crazy, and this offered a glimpse as to why it was Commander Kylo Ren had been wound so tightly since his arrival. His disdain for those lives that kept him anchored to this planet grew until he lashed out against and even killed those when their failures provoked his wrath. Since the incident in the hangar bay, however, the Commander had been like a shadow. Elusive and hardly seen when not looming over others. The rage within him had quieted whilst not disappearing entirely.

 Windows stretched across this wing of the base to allow in sunlight that warmed the area. It was a welcomed difference after spending a quarter of an hour at the officer’s bedside. The sight of TIE fighters dancing across the sky as they patrolled caused your heart to skip a beat. Your chest swelled with increased envy for the pilots of those vessels. Previously that would have been you; this was your former rotation, the pilots that had been in your squadron in the skies now without you. You paused in your steps and traced the path that the lead TIE would take with your eyes seconds before the ship followed it. The leader pilot was the same as when you had been in that squadron; a man born from a prodigious family of former Imperials that had served the Empire Two of his five siblings had perished in service to the First Order.. His skills were impressive, and it had been against him that you had always measured yourself as a means of self improvement. You wanted to close the gap that existed between the pair of you.

 Memories of the Commander in his TIE Silencer cut through the previous thoughts. You jerked your gaze away from the window, resumed walking, and considered that you would be graced with the new challenge of measuring yourself against the best pilot the First Order had to offer.

 Stormtroopers numbered fewer in comparison with the officers on the base. A sea of white prompted you to swerve in favor of seeking the darker colored uniforms wherein you could blend. Standing apart did not fluster you normally. It was the knowledge that somewhere the shadow lurked; to draw his attention before you were ready would offer him the higher ground when your footing was already rocky at best. While not in his presence you could pretend that you retained a name of your own. For years you had worked hard, pushed yourself beyond your limits for recognition by the other pilots on each base that you were assigned to. Each pilot began training in childhood, and most grew up on Star Destroyers. You had been an exception, which was one of the reasons that planetary assignments often came your way. When it came to interacting with First Order personnel, you were kindred spirits with neither the stormtroopers nor the officers.

 This was better exemplified when the officers in the sea you had selected to join parted, rippling away and leaving you bare. Though just as replaceable--more easily replaced in your opinion--the officers considered themselves above TIE pilots, whom they viewed as expendable pawns. Such was the paradox, that you were a being they revered and envied due to your capabilities in a TIE simultaneous to being faceless and subhuman. A fictitious hero that sprang to life as a symbol of the First Order’s might, little different than Commander Kylo Ren. He was the anomaly, you supposed. 

 A scan of the faces in the parting crowd revealed a mounting fear. You searched for the source of their agitation, which when revealed caused you to cease walking. The shadow had blended into the background for you, though now that you had glimpsed him you wondered how his presence could have gone unnoticed. His power was a dark wave crashing over you. It drowned out your ability to breathe for the seconds it took you to recover after that jolt of surprise upon seeing his masked visage. Tendrils of an unseen force, an indescribable feeling, crawled up your spine. This was not fear, you realized, but something else. The unnamed sensation spurring you into action anew. Your feet began to carry you in the direction of the godlike being that had stripped you of your former life.

 “I see your mind has finished its introspective blathering.” There was no recoiling from him though mentally you reeled at the notion that he might have been in your head. Limited knowledge of the Force left you susceptible to minor paranoia. You were aware of Commander Kylo Ren’s abilities to peer into the minds of others during interrogation, however not how he completed this feat. Said man stepped forward and gestured with his hand for you to follow.

 It was with amusement that the observation of white and black seas meeting swam into view when the two had the alternative option of allowing Kylo Ren amongst them. The contrast allowed you to discover that they had embraced you, along with other TIE pilots, more than you had given them credit for. Your lips inched upwards in amusement that you swiftly quashed. Commander Kylo Ren carried himself forward in long strides that, while not struggling, took effort on your part to complement. His robes failed to billow behind him as he walked; you understood here that the functionality of his belt was not simply to hold his lightsaber. Regardless, it was astonishing that his feet failed to catch on the stray material given his speed. You trained your eye on the soles of his boots, your gaze interrupted on each occasion the robe swished past.

 Familiarity with the base offered the final destination without the Commander needing to verbalize his intentions. Windows appeared with less frequency the nearer to the hangar bay you arrived. Sunlight increased in strength and volume, and you lifted your chin to take in the outdoors that were exposed by the open doors. There was no indication that a storm similar to the one experienced days ago would appear. You turned your head without pausing in your steps as a means of keeping the clear sky in view until it was obscured by the rows of TIEs you passed. Again did the Commander’s feet hold an allure. Your pulse quickened as the robe skipped along the sole. At the final moment, it pulled away and Kylo Ren did not trip on it.

 You were led to the secluded section of the hangar bay where pilots not in uniform could change into one of the spare flight suits that was available. There was no further prompting required. You stepped around Commander Kylo Ren when he stopped. His hands were rolling into fists then relaxing in alteration. The leather provided a crunching squeak that you echoed minutes later with your flight gloves. You were careful to ensure the life support gear was fully functional. Exiting the small room, you found your helmeted reflection in Kylo Ren’s visor.

 “Hmm.” That grunt was the only sound that escaped either of you and it had come from him. Subsequent to the release of this noise, Commander Kylo Ren lifted his arm and flicked two fingers towards himself. You stared at the back of his hand. Moved only after he did first. The line of TIEs contained predominantly TIE/fo models though it was peppered with the occasional TIE/sf. The Silencer drew the eye. Alongside the sleek, new model was one TIE/fo that you could instantly tell was prepared for flight. “You think you can outmaneuver me.”

 It was chilling how perceptive he was. You sucked in air through your nose to limit the noises that escaped you. The difference in size between the TIE/fo and the Silencer hit on a new level as you walked between the two ships in an attempt to rid yourself of the mounting discomfort that had arisen when Kylo Ren had spoken those words. It was nearly triple in size. The TIE/fo ran a length of 6.69 meters in comparison to the 17.43 meters that the Silencer boasted. The access hatch to the Silencer was located behind the seat and led into its cabin. There was no such room in the starships that you had piloted. To outmaneuver this? You at last faltered and thus lost the inner battle that had been waged; you shuddered, knowing all the while that Commander Kylo Ren was tracking your every move.

 The proposed challenge had stemmed from his abilities to sense your thoughts, or at least your intentions, on the day that you had lost your name. You rolled your fingers inwards towards your palms, curling them and creating a tight fist. To yield now without making an attempt to prove your capabilities, subpar though they may be in facing this specific task, would further rob you of any respect that you had built in the years you had piloted for the First Order.

 “I can last longer than the Resistance pilots you have taken down.” Murmuring these words bolstered your confidence. The confidence that resided in you from every past mission surged forward and flooded your entire being. The spreading warmth enlivened your spirits, a grin crawling across your face. You half twisted to consider your Commander. “Are we leaving atmosphere?” A jolt of apprehension quickly seeped into the mix. Your stomach felt as though it executed a somersault before beginning to settle once more. Commander Kylo Ren gave an almost imperceptible nod.

 He was wrapped in a calm mood that prevented the others in the hangar from reacting to his presence as they had mere days before. Yet they were not the ones who would be acting as prey in the vastness of space.

 Successfully suppressing a second shudder, you climbed into the cockpit of the TIE that had been prepared for you. You gripped the flight controls with both hands after sealing the access hatch and checking the cockpit display. The readouts confirmed a lack of obstructions in the ship’s path. Powering the starfighter, you looked to your left and observed Kylo Ren climbing into the Silencer. You snorted as you returned your attention to the TIE/fo. The earlier bout of envy was eliminated. The skies opened up after screaming past the open hangar bay doors. You twirled in a loop that was more for relaxation than serving any true purpose. Then obeyed the demands of your superior by aiming for the stars.

 In comparison with the TIE/sf models, the TIE/fo was more limited with the distance it could place between itself and its assigned base. You had ample fuel to run this exercise with Kylo Ren, however that was the extent of what would be accomplished before a refuel was necessary. The limited fuel within the starfighter had caught your attention when first you had boarded. The First Order was not going to waste resources, however, and you attributed the fourth of a tank cap on this mission to that.

 The TIE could take a beating; its plating assisting in preventing it from breaking apart as you left the atmosphere. Day became a sea of black that was punctuated by an assortment of stars. More often than not you ignored their existence when flying to instead pay heed to whatever target you happened to be pursuing at the time. Until the Commander joined you, however, you took advantage of the calm to scan the heavens. It made you feel small instead of large. The merciless being that had better tasted potential godhood was on his way. Your lips parted. Widened eyes scanned the stars briefly before settling on the sensors of the TIE’s control panel.

 A blip on the radar offered a caress of icy tendrils along the back of your neck. The Silencer was closing in more swiftly than any Resistance ship you had ever faced. Gnashing your teeth together in defiance, you increased the pressure on the grip of your flight controls, thrusting them forward to send your TIE through space.

 The first laser fire zipped past your viewport too far off the side to have been an accidental miss. A warning shot. Swearing, you jerked to the left, executing a triple spin that had in the past shaken ships off your tail. Not so for the Silencer, which mimicked your moves. Rather than fear, excitement erupted. Its heaviness weighed on your chest, and laughter bubbled up, escaping you in a single bark.

 “He’s insane.” You ran your tongue along your lips. Peered through your visor at the scan and glanced up in time to see another blast miss you--this time only because you had moved the TIE. You had outmaneuvered him with that, even if only a little. Pride surged through you; it was the downfall of man more often than not, but you entertained the deadly sin with another laugh and wide grin.

 The next shot clipped your wing, causing an alarm to blare at you in acknowledgment of the damage taken. The flashing discontinued when you skipped a gloved hand along the sensor. You had sustained worse in skirmishes with the Resistance.

 The TIE Silencer zipped past, its momentum rocking the TIE/fo. You jerked your right hand towards your body without loosening hold on the controls and while keeping your left hand in place. The correction righted the TIE without overcompensation. Goosebumps spread along your flesh under your flight suit. You directed your TIE straight ahead in pursuit of the Commander. Your thumb skimmed the weapons control. The tingling along your spine felt in the hangar returned. It was more potent. You rejected its threat to your nerves and pressed on, your thumb squashing the switch that released a weak blast.

 Unsurprisingly, the Silencer avoided the hit with an elegant spin. You witnessed by the first half, much too distracted by Kylo Ren’s return fire to keep your gaze trained his ship. You rolled, however the superiority of the Silencer in comparison with the TIE/fo made itself known. The wing of your ship sustained more damage. This time the flashing red refused to quiet. A second hit rocked you along with your TIE. A third. You growled low in your throat. There was no fourth strike. Soon your TIE registered that its major systems were not compromised. It would not erupt in a ball of flame. The red faded away into blackness. Despite this, you had nevertheless lost the game. Your TIE was dead in space.

 “Eject.” The command was warbled by his vocoder and filled with static from the transmission. You glowered at the display on your ship, aware that your TIE was disabled. There were no warning lights to indicate impending doom. “Now or you will die.” He left the connection open so that you could hear the tell-tale sign of him readying to fire. Your pulse quickened, respiration erratic as you listened to him switching to a more powerful weapon. “Now.”

 You squeezed closed your eyes whilst submitting to his tyrannical rule; memories of the officer’s oral mutilation cut you to the core as your body was jerked, rocking with the propulsion of ejection. You had heard tales of deaths during ejection from ships. Had witnessed, during your training, mutilations that included loss of limb. Exercises had prompted you to eject from TIEs in both simulations and real ships. You well knew what to expect, which sensations should be experienced. This decelerated pace was not it. Your already irregular heartbeat worsened. Nausea crept through you, bile rising and acid lapping at the lining of your stomach. You were looking downwards--upwards? sideways? it was space, so who could tell?--at the blossoming flames that consumed the wreckage of your TIE.

 Had you not ejected, you would have been spacedust. Your mouth was agape as the first gag rocked your entire body. An invisible force that should not have been present in space tugged you towards the side and dragged you away from potential injury. Your breathing soon registered in your ear. It cut through the all-consuming silence of space. The sea of stars amongst which you swam--no, you floated, lost, at the mercy of some powerful being you could not see. Tears sprang into your eyes; this foreign sense of helplessness rocked you to your core. Impaled by insecurity, you opened your mouth to speak only to choke out nonsensical syllables. He could leave you there to die a slow death. Becoming spacedust would have been a mercy.

 Merciless, you thought for the millionth time in reference to the Commander.

 A sleek shadow crept underneath you. Mind requiring three seconds to process what it was, you gagged around a sob that you had desperately tried to swallow. The gulp was painful as a result. You endured this discomfort similarly to the increased pressure that locked around your limbs and dragged you towards the access hatch of the TIE Silencer. Near enough to reach it, the power relinquished its grip on your arms. You unlatched the belts that had kept you attached to the ejector seat. Your heart hiccuped in your chest, apprehension that he would release you and let you drift off without the seat enveloping you like an all-consuming flame. The burning in your stomach and the pressure on your chest from the worsening panic was causation of your sudden vertigo.

 “You’re so afraid.” Commander Kylo Ren’s voice was louder now than it had been before. Decorated by genuine confusion and curiosity, it stilled the roaring inferno as though it was a welcome stream of water that doused all flames. The statement had reminded you of who you were, of the training you had endured since childhood. Why were you afraid when this had always been a possibility--when worse things had been possibilities? This was but a lesson in trust and obedience.

 Your hands scrambled to find the latch on the hatch. The trembling in your limbs embarrassed you. This new heat was as unwelcome as the previous. You scowled, eyebrows knitting towards one another. Kylo Ren shifted the grip of the Force onto your hips. Had he not, it would have been excruciatingly awkward to climb into the Silencer after opening the access hatch. He dragged you into his ship as much as you worked your limbs to pull yourself within. Only once you were within were you freed from his invisible touch. This was where your positive gravity pressure boots took over, keeping you anchored to the floor of the Silencer even as Kylo Ren executed a spin in the ship. You could feel your inner organs swooping as he flipped the Silencer.

 Commander Kylo Ren did not look over his shoulder though you walked over to him. Your legs were more unsteady than you would have liked. You pressed your lips into a thin line. A fresh wave of frustration rolled forth. The timing of the explosion in comparison with your ejection meant that he had fired before you had hit to be released. Had you failed to obey him, you would have died. Kylo Ren had nearly killed you. You glowered at the back of his head.

 “You nearly killed me.” His breathing sounded like static, an indication of amusement that felt like a knife to the abdomen. There was pleasure surrounding it. “Is that how you get off?”

 You observed his right hand abandoning the TIE Silencer’s control to land out of sight, presumably in his lap. A step closer. Peering over his shoulder, you saw proof of the sadism in his actions against the decimated TIE. Your breath caught in your throat. Kylo Ren palmed the bulge he had exposed by drawing aside the front of his robes. “Yes.” The single syllable made you swallow the saliva that had gathered in your mouth. Your throat bobbed, feeling thick and full. Commander Kylo Ren bent his fingers. The tips disappeared from your view, hooking around the underside of the tent in his pants. “Perhaps you should thank me for my mercy.” He at long last turned his head, albeit only a fraction. You peered at your own visor in the reflection of his. Neither of you were human here. He was a cruel god of death and you were barely living, a step above spacedust.

 The memory of the lightsaber’s crossguard impaling the officer’s mouth presented itself to you. A jolt ran through your body. It started cold at the base of your spine and warmed as it drifted lower. Pooled into a wetness that escaped from your body, which clenched at the thought of the Commander’s power, the power that had refused to give you up to death. You lifted your hands towards your helmet, unfastening it and allowing the vacuum seal to break. If Kylo Ren opened the hatch, you would perish while he would live. Another jolt, this one electrifying your system as it spiderwebbed throughout your limbs. Your fingers were tingling. You wiggled them whilst shuffling forward as best you could, lodging yourself at his side.

 You reached for the exposed front of his pants. Leather sliding underneath leather. He momentarily squeezed you, a physical pressure not so unlike the grip you had felt when he had used the Force to anchor you. Biting your bottom lip, you lifted your eyes towards his visor and were struck with how you appeared in that reflection without your helmet.

 “Worship me with your mouth, with your tongue.” You observed your own eyes widening as the man behind the mask spoke. The thing that threatened to frighten you most of all was not that he had somehow learned thoughts you had not given voice to; it was the detachment with which he spoke, punctuating just how insignificant he found you to be. You ripped your hand away from him and stood. Your eyes trained on that visor and its cold, unforgiving gaze. “This is how insignificant you are.”

 Kylo Ren pushed aside the front of his pants and freed himself. Against your better judgment--more accurately, without thought--you glanced down. From that point on you could not look away. Commander Kylo Ren wrapped his gloved hand around his shaft, the thumb skimming up along the vein as he stroked his pulsating cock. What impressed you was not merely the size of him but his skill as well. The TIE Silencer did not wobble even as Kylo Ren released a shaky breath. The little exposed flesh of his abdomen tightened with his next stroke. You placed your hand on the back of his seat to steady yourself. The warmth situated in your belly grew in intensity. It spread, your inner walls clenching around nothing as Kylo Ren bucked his hips to fuck into his own touch.

 Beads of precum were smeared on the reddened head of his cock. His hand paused, lifted, and extended towards your face. The power that had anchored you now gripped your throat like a vice. You were brought to your knees before him, slammed to the floor of the TIE so roughly that your mouth sprang open in a cry of pain that was warbled, muffled by the leather clad fingers slipping towards your throat. You gagged around them. Felt your jaw pop with the intrusion of his large hand, three fingers thrusting back and forth as they gathered your saliva. Drool slipped past them and spilled down your jaw to the floor. Commander Kylo Ren grunted and, his hand lubricated to the desired amount, withdrew.

 He masturbated more quickly now, using your spit to slick his cock, moving his hand up and down inch by inch then as swiftly as possible. “Perhaps you aren’t completely useless.” His breathing was uneven, his words shaking as he spoke. The sound of flesh smacking into leather, into the wetness of your spit. You pressed your thighs together. Cursed your body for reaction, the traitor that it was. “Fuck.”

 The speed of the TIE Silencer did not compensate for Kylo Ren’s own capabilities. Had you blinked, you would have missed the movement of his hand as it shot towards you. He gripped the back of your head, shoved you down onto his cock, which hit the back of your throat. The sudden intrusion shocked your body. Your limbs jerked, knees hitting the metal of the seat you were made to kneel beside. You grabbed hold of Kylo’s thigh. Your mind barely processed that he was in your mouth when you tasted him. His cum filled your mouth then hit your face as you jerked backwards. That he had not kept his hold on you was, to you, spiteful. He had wanted to observe his hot cum hit your face in streaks. You glared up at the visor that was pointed down.

 Temptation to spit his load into his lap faded as he touched the tips of two fingers under your chin. You swallowed. Ran your tongue along your lips, moved your hand to his lap and trailed a single finger up and down his softening length. “You’re an ass.” You tucked him away back into his pants.

 Returning to the cabin of the TIE Silencer, you grabbed a spare cloth to clean evidence of your activities. It was difficult to stand straight with the ache that remained between your legs. Suddenly names were inconsequential in comparison with this experience of transcension. To touch the stars and cheat death. To make a powerful being come undone and feel him shudder beneath your tongue. You cupped yourself through your flight suit and stuffed two gloved fingers into your mouth, aware that the leather would taste the same as his. Falling to your knees, you threw back your head and held in reverence the gift you had been given.

[duhragonball]

Continuity

I’m still reading Star Wars comics from the original Marvel run of 1977-1986.   Last night, I made it to the Return of the Jedi adaptation, so now I’ve read all the issues set between that movie and Empire Strikes Back.   As I expected, these comics (#45-80) feel a lot more like authentic Star Wars stories than the pre-ESB issues (#7-38).   The biggest plot hole that I noticed was that Luke still has his lightsaber throughout this period, despite losing it on Bepsin. 

It occurred to me later that this wasn’t necessarily a mistake.   There’s a deleted scene from ROTJ which shows Luke assembling his new lightsaber right before the mission to save Han Solo from Jabba the Hut.   This strongly implies that Luke didn’t have a lightsaber of his own between Episodes V and VI.   This was further supported by the ROTJ radio drama, produced in 1996, which incorporates the deleted scene into the story.   There, Luke expresses frustration with how difficult it is to build a lightsaber, and then he finally realizes that he should have been using the Force to assemble the pieces.   I haven’t read the novelization of the movie, but maybe it was touched on there as well. 

  Later sources indicated that building your own lightsaber is the final ritual for completing your Jedi training.   This is shown in the 2002 Clone Wars cartoon, where Barriss Offee assembles her own saber on Ilum, under the supervision of Luminara Unduli.  I’m pretty sure this scene was inspired by Darth Vader’s line in ROTJ, when he observed that Luke’s training is complete after checking out his badass green lightsaber.   The implication is that building your own lightsaber is difficult enough that Luke would have to be a Jedi Knight just to pull it off.

But in the early 80′s, none of that lore existed, and it would be a simple matter for writers to assume that Luke had no trouble at all getting a spare.  What I find strange is that no one bothered to explain where this spare lightsaber came from.    It’s like the writers just assumed he never lost the first one, but that’s crazy.

Really, the artists on the original Star Wars comics never seemed to be able to keep track of the lightsabers to begin with.    In the early comics, they paid no heed to the color schemes or hilt designs at all.    Not that I would expect late 70′s artists to really worry about props from a movie that had just come out, but they kept coloring all the lightsaber blades at random, and drawing the hilts way too short and thick.  Luke and Vader looked like they were holding soda cans.   The art started to get more true to the movies when Tom Palmer got involved, but one thing I started to notice was how the artists would draw Luke and Vader’s lightsabers on their belts, even when they were holding them, ignited, in their hands.   It was like the artists recognized the lightsaber hilts as part of the characters’ costumes, but they didn’t understand what they were.    I can’t really blame them for this, since the big column of light was what really drew everyone’s attention in the theaters, and it wasn’t like they could look up hilt schematics on Wookieepedia like you can now.  

Anyway, it struck me as kind of interesting how something minor like that can start off as an oversight, and then be easily corrected, or magnified into a major plot hole.    It’d be pretty simple to explain Luke’s between-movie lightsaber. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi had a spare tucked away somewhere, and Luke had been keeping it in storage just in case something like this happened.

Yoda had a spare, and Luke took it with him when he went to Bespin, and put it inside R2-D2′s lightsaber compartment for safe keeping.

Luke found a new lightsaber on a mission.

Luke built a new lightsaber to replace his old one, then lost that guy, requiring him to build the green one in ROTJ.

Luke found/constructed a replacement weapon, but it’s actually a knockoff “laser sword” and it doesn’t work as well as a genuine Jedi design, but it got the job done until he could do the job right.

I find it curious that no one ever bothered to tell any of those stories, though.   The Expanded Universe era of Star Wars multimedia seemed determined to sew up as many continuity problems as possible.   Some writer in the 2000′s did a story to establish that Jedi would swap lightsabers as a gesture of mutual respect, just to explain why Mace Windu’s action figure has a different lightsaber design than the one he has in the movies.   I’m not too worried about this stuff, and I don’t think Jo Duffy or David Michelinie were too worried about this stuff when they wrote Luke carving up Stormtroopers in Star Wars #45-80, but between 1994 and 2008, there were people working for Lucasfilm who were paid to worry about this stuff.   I’m genuinely surprised that no one ever got around to penning Star Wars: Luke’s Spare Lightsaber: The Lobot Chronicles: Dark Tidings.

It’s the little things like this that get lost in the shuffle, I’ve found.   When you read a Star Wars novel or comic book, the major characters are always very consistently portrayed, and the story always sticks very closely to the groundwork laid down in whatever movies were around at the time.   Star Wars #45-80 excelled at this.   Every issue was either about the good guys searching for Han Solo, or dealing with a crisis big enough to pull them away from the search for Han Solo.   I was disappointed that they didn’t spend much time at all having Luke work on his Jedi training, or trying to make sense of Darth Vader being his father, but I think Marvel knew the next movie would address that, so they knew not to wade too deep into that stream.  

The stuff that gets changed the most is the minor characters.   I read one issue where they basically established that Wedge Antilles never made it off the base on Hoth in ESB.   He and “Nice Shot” Jansen had to take cover in the AT-AT Luke blew up, and then they lived in what was left of the base while they waited for the imperials to clear out.   He was stranded there for months, and it was a pretty cool story, but I’m betting that later Star Wars writers decided to ignore this, because they wanted to use Wedge in other stories during that period.  

General Tagge’s another interesting example.   He was the guy on the Death Star in Episode IV, the one who warned that the Death Star was vulnerable while the Rebels had the stolen plans.   Tagge’s kind of a walking continuity error to begin with, because everyone kept getting him mixed up with Admiral Motti, the guy who sassed Vader and got choked out for his lack of faith.  In the Archie Goodwin run on Star Wars, Tagge was killed in the movie when the Death Star exploded, but his brothers and sister turned up as recurring villains with a grudge against the Rebels and Vader alike.  Flash forward to 2015, when Disney took over Lucasfilm, and in the new continuity, Tagge survived the Death Star’s destruction because he happened to leave  right before it went to Yavin IV to get blown up.   This was done mainly to set him up as a rival to Darth Vader in the 2015 Darth Vader comic.    I guess they figured there was no reason to invent new characters when they could just salvage some of the officers from the movie.  Tagge feels more authentic than his siblings because we actually saw him on film.   He’s a “real” Star Wars guy, while rest of his family are just cartoons.    I think that’s the attitude anyway.    Back in 1978, they were probably eager to create new characters because they had tons of world-building to do.   So the 2010′s Marvel comics don’t square with the 1970′s Marvel comics at all, especially where the Tagges are concerned, but Darth Vader’s dealings with them feel pretty consistent.   

The reason I bring up all of this is because I used to think that the continuity in Star Wars was never terribly complicated.   When production of  The Force Awakens got started, Lucasfilm announced that they were rebooting the whole Star Wars canon, declaring all the Expanded Universe content as “Legends”, which no longer counted as official continuity.  The only hard canon sources from now on were the movies, the Clone Wars TV series, and anything published after that announcement.   Naturally, all the post-Return-of-the-Jedi stories would be off the board, which only made sense to me, seeing as Force Awakens would contradict it.   But I figured the other stories could still be made to fit together somehow, since none of them had anything to do with Rey or Kylo Ren or the First Order, or whatever.   

But really, it’s been like that all along.    The novels and comics would introduce some idea, and others would build on it, and then George Lucas would override it with his next project.   Then the writers would have to pick up the pieces.  The 2008-2013 Clone Wars TV series trampled on a lot of continuity from the 2002-2005 Clone Wars books and comics, primarily because George Lucas worked on the TV series, and he was the final word on this stuff.   That announcement in 2014 pissed off a lot of Expanded Universe fans (so much that they bought a bunch of billboards to complain about it), but it was kind of inevitable.   They’ll probably have to wipe the slate clean again around 2040 or so, because there’ll be enough new movies that the comics and novels won’t align with them.

I sort of half-joke about my own fanfiction getting this kind of treatment.   My goal is to write stories that could fit into the established continuity, but I can only work with the continuity I know.    With Dragon Ball, that was easy, until Dragon Ball Super got underway, and Akira Toriyama started writing new stuff.    It was pretty easy to write my own female Super Saiyan, until DBS introduced a couple of their own, and now I have to wonder if they’ll say or do something that might contradict my own take.    Likewise, this Broly movie might establish some new lore that I need to take into consideration.    I can write new material to work around those things, but the stuff I’ve already written is pretty much locked in.    My private joke is that in any of these new animations, a character will just stare at the screen and coldly announce that “Mike’s fanfic never happened.”  

But that’s pretty much what Lucasfilm has been doing to the novel and comics writers for over forty years.    “Splinter of the Mind’s Eye” would have been the official sequel to Star Wars if Empire Strikes Back hadn’t been funded.   Instead, Dengar and Bossk looked at the screen and said “Alan Dean Foster’s novel never happened.”    Return of the Jedi killed every Luke/Leia shipper’s hopes and dreams.    “Oh, those fanfics never happened, my young friend,” Ben Kenobi said from beyond the grave.    Attack of the Clones wreaked all sorts of havoc on Boba Fett’s backstory.   The Force Awakens wrecked the Skywalker-Solo family tree.   “Han and Leia only had one kid, and I’m gonna kick his ass!” Rey shouted asskickingly.   And on it goes.    I read that one writer resigned after they retconned all the stuff she had set up about Boba Fett’s home planet, but that’s the way the game is played, unfortunately.   

Me, I’m just writing my stuff for fun, when it comes down to it.    I like to think all the continuity can be fit together, but the reality is that there’s too many redundant pieces, so they can’t all be part of the same picture.  You can either have Tagge or his brothers, but not both.   You can decide to keep Ben Solo or Jan and Jeice Solo from the EU novels, but not both.    Or you can do an AU, I guess.    They’re all AU’s when you get down to it.   

I suppose that, no matter what, I prefer my own assumption that Luke just didn’t have a lightsaber between Empire and Jedi.    I’ve read too many stories about how there’s more to a Jedi than his lightsaber, and how the best Jedi never use them at all, so it makes sense to me that Luke had to make due without one, and use the loss to force him to refocus on his training.    While the others searched for Han, he was doing cool Jedi homework that he should have been doing on Dagobah, and he purposely waited until he was finished before building a new lightsaber.   That just makes too much sense to me, even if some other version is presented.   But the other stories are still fun to read.   They don’t have to be canon to be enjoyable. 

[oldraaphael]

Unimaginable Loss

Yo! This is my gift to @aerefyr for the @starwarsminiexchange! 

It’s basically a lil fic about Kit Fisto after Order 66. It’s also complete shit, and for that I’m really fucking sorry oops. But yeah, without further ago, here you go! (note: it might be easier to read on AO3)

Aaron flew through the doors of the bar, crashing unceremoniously to the ground. Grimacing, he spat behind him and wrapped a hand around his ribs delicately. “Bastards,” he hissed, withdrawing his hands. Those dipshits had broken a rib, maybe two. He winced as he drew himself up, brushing at the mud on his cloak absentmindedly.

He looked back at the filthy bar. He supposed he shouldn’t be so judgmental, considering the street was covered with at least an inch of sewage sludge in even the cleanest parts of the Coruscant Underworld, but he wasn’t feeling very congenial at the moment. The flickering purple lights above the doors advertising the entrance weren’t doing such a stellar job; the sign blended in with the usual unnatural lights radiating the lower levels, poisoning its citizens with the synthetic replacement for sunlight they weren’t given access to- even if the lights weren’t doing a goddamn thing to illuminate the dark abyss. Aaron brushed off the thought, knowing he’d need another drink if he kept thinking about the people who lived their entire lives without seeing the surface. And right now the closest available drinks were on the other side of three particularly burly Besalisk.

Aaron huffed and rubbed his sore arms where they’d inevitably left bruises grabbing him with their sausage fingers. Fuck. That. Shit, he thought as he turned away and started down the street.

-

The maze of the Underworld was not something to be taken lightly. It was some kind of running joke that the reason so many never saw the surface again after entering the Underworld was because they simply couldn’t find their way back. Aaron didn’t find it very funny- both because he pitied the lost souls if the joke was true and he didn’t like the implication of the fate if it wasn’t.

Nonetheless, the point was still taken. While locals had a fairly good idea of where they were within a good fifty mile radius of their home (horizontally, that is- most people didn’t go more than four floors up or down of their residence) and people who’d been born down there could easily navigate 100 miles and survive long enough to make it home no more than 200 miles, most off-worlders or surface dwellers couldn’t so much as leave a trail of breadcrumbs and make it back to where they started. And not just because you’d have a swarming herd of kids picking up your scraps or some seven-foot thug find you and kill you for the bread.

For all of the quote unquote progress that Coruscant represented for the galaxy, there was no order to be found even in the foundation of the Underworld. Aaron couldn’t even blame the Empire for the hellhole he lived in. The winding, unorganized ruins of whatever ecumenopolis preceded modern Coruscant was now nothing short of a deadly labyrinth infested with starving families, two-penny crime lords, and other vermin. The first dozen levels had become nothing more than an entire layer of uninhabitable garbage-ridden marsh full of shit and trash from the upper levels. Aaron dreaded to think what would happen when that filthy soup crawled it’s way up to the industrial levels, where generators working constantly to run whatever machines were needed on the surface made the entire Underworld feel alive with constant noise, warmth, and steady movement.

The streets became more crowded as he approached the station. He pulled his hood tighter over his head instinctively, covering his face from passersby. As if his face wasn’t automatically recognizable, the tattoos would certainly draw attention. Still, he pressed through the crowd that was steadily growing as he approached the train. Aaron knew taking the public line was a risk- the cars were brightly lit, allowing more chance for recognition. Truthfully, he didn’t really care any more. He just wanted to get home and he didn’t feel like walking half a dozen miles with broken ribs.

He stumbled into the car, thankful that it wasn’t as crowded as usual. He didn’t think he could handle being stuffed with dozens of other people like a bunch of animals waiting to be slaughtered without at least six more drinks. Despite the array of open seats he decided to stand. He winced as he raised his arm to hold onto the overhead bar; the movement had bothered his ribs. He ignored the pain and glanced around the car, assessing his surroundings out of habit.

A twi’lek woman and her child caught his eye. The boy was no more than six and he seemed to be content playing with his stuffed animal. His joyful cries were hushed by the mother, who ran her hands over his head tails lovingly. She looked tired. The bags under her eyes were dark and she was too thin- he’d seen slaves that were better fed. Likely she gave all the food she managed to scrape up to her son and whatever other mouths she had to feed.

With something resembling curiousity (he knew better than to fool himself into thinking he really cared about anything anymore), he noticed her clothing. The tunic, while certainly dirty and mended many times over, was made of valuable cloth and the intricate designs on the side were similar to the markings frequently worn by the ensemble of diplomats sent by the citizens of Ryloth. They’d been “disbanded” after the anti-alien prejudice had made its way to the depths of the senate, effectively razing any sort of committee focused on the betterment and better treatment of off-worlders on Coruscant. With vague interest he wondered how this woman had managed to escape- with a child, no less. Assuming she hadn’t just stolen the tunic from a rotting corpse, which was definitely more likely.

Before he could even decide to start thinking about it, a small squadron of stormtroopers boarded the car and began walking the aisles, shoving passengers and demanding IDs. Cursing under his breath, Aaron pulled his hood closer over him and tried to cover his face. He didn’t feel like encountering a group of armed soldiers today. He slowly worked his way through the crowd, pushing to the other end of the train, hoping they wouldn’t see him.

Of course, with his luck…

“You! ID, now!” The barked order was broken coming through the filtered speaker. Aaron didn’t look up or so much as acknowledge the command. “Hey! I’m talking to you!” The stormtrooper gripped his arm.

So much for getting home quietly, he thought. He brought his elbow down in the crook of armor on the assailant’s arm, bending it unnaturally. The trooper howled, alerting the other guards, before Aaron twisted his leg around him, bringing the soldier to his knees. Aaron brought the trooper’s head to his knee before grabbing the unconscious soldier’s gun and thrusting himself through the crowd, shoveling people out of the way.

The crowd parted and clung to the walls, but otherwise showed no indication of the tussle. It was a common enough occurrence. No one tried to stop the stormtroopers, but no one tried to stop Aaron either.

Another guard had grabbed Aaron’s arm, apparently not learning from the former’s mistake. He repeated the motion, but this one leaped back after the wounding, yanking off Aaron’s cloak as he did so. Aaron cursed. “Clone!” the trooper shouted to the others. He stepped further back, speaking into his communicator. “We’ve got another renegade clone on level 337, line RT3 heading-“

Aaron grunted as he slammed the butt of the stolen gun into the soldier’s helmet, knocking him unconscious. The other soldiers were pushing their way through the crowd, but the passengers were, if anything, shoving them forward. Aaron looked around widely. People were huddled against the wall, clinging to each other and looking at the clone in fear. They all remembered what had happened. What he had done. Aaron winced.

This wasn’t the time to be thinking of that, though. He had a much easier time maneuvering the crowd now that everyone shrank from him like he was diseased. Aaron made his way to the door, though the train wouldn’t make its next stop for another ninety seconds. A quick glance behind him at the guards told him he didn’t have that kind of time.

Grimacing, he flicked off the safety and shot at the doors, blasting them open. People screamed and covered their ears- as used to gunfire as they were, no civilian is used to gunfire in an enclosed space like that. Aaron’s own ears were ringing. He couldn’t hear the train hurdling forward, but he could certainly feel the gusts of wind through the now doorless exit. Luckily everyone else on the train, including the stormtroopers, were still recovering from the burst of noise. Aaron stepped towards his exit, gripping both edges of the doorframe tightly. He looked out- they were going over a platform any second now.

Aaron flinched as a hand grabbed his arm. He turned towards his assailant, ready to attack. “Don’t,” the twi’lek woman urged in a heavy accent. She thought he was committing suicide. Oh, blessed soul, he thought to her fondly, I don’t have the bravery for a stunt like that. Instead he said nothing, giving a comical two-finger salute before falling out of the train.

Aaron fell hard on his shoulder, but he threw himself forward so he’d keep rolling on his side until he finally came to a stop. He crawled to a wall, using it as support to draw himself to a stand. He touched his shoulder lightly. Dislocated. Angrily, he slammed the palm of his hand into his shoulder, forcing it back in the socket painfully. He looked back to the tracks and spat, watching the glimmer of the train continue in the distance.

With a sense of disgust, for himself, his situation, and those around him, he continued on. He’d never been to this particular station before, but thankfully he still knew the way home. He limped forward. His knee wasn’t too bad- but the soldier’s armor was thicker than he remembered. Then again, he wasn’t really dealing with much more than bar fights and street brawls nowadays.

-

As he approached his second hour wandering the streets, he came across another dead end. Sighing, he collapsed against the wall and slid down, not really caring what kind of grime got on his cloak. Two fights ending with him getting tossed into the street and two hours of failed memory later and he was fucking exhausted. He might as well just sleep on the street. If anyone wanted to mug him, let them the take the six credits he hadn’t spent at the bar. If anyone wanted to kill him, they’d be doing him a favor. He shut his eyes.

“My my, it looks like I’ve finally got company.”

If anyone wanted to bother him, they’d be in for it. Just slit my throat or be done with it, he thought.

“I’ve got nothing to slit your throat with, I’m afraid. Nor do I have any mind to mug you. Six credits would be a lousy reward anyway, for the extent of my troubles.”

Aaron frowned. Had he really said those things out loud? Well, he supposed going completely bonkers wasn’t out of the picture.

“No, you’re quite sane, as far as I can tell.”

Aaron opened his eyes at last, with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. He sat up, but didn’t come to a full stand. It took him a moment to notice the raggedy figure sitting on a rotted box. He couldn’t make out anything beyond the badly weathered cloak- it had certainly seen better days, that’s for sure, if it was even a cloak at all. He didn’t see any weapons, but there could be a small gun or knife concealed somewhere.

The creature moved its head. “Come now, do I really seem like much of a threat to you?” The voice seemed aged and hoarse, but somehow Aaron could just tell the man was grinning. Aaron doubted he wanted to see the state of this guy’s teeth.

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

The figure laughed. Aaron was caught off guard by the sudden outburst. “Well, I suppose you’re right. I was a general in the Clone Wars, after all.”

Great, this fucking dumbass thinks he’s a Jedi. Just what I need right now. Another crazy. Aaron leaned back against the wall, too tired to argue. “Right, right. I’m sure you were in all sorts of battles.”

“Oh yes,” he said enthusiastically. “I was in all sorts of battles. But the battles weren’t the good parts.”

“Oh, there were good parts, were there?” Aaron closed his eyes, trying not to think about why he was appeasing the crazy old man.

“Well, you wouldn’t remember. You’re a clone- you never knew us before the war.”

“’Us’ being the Jedi?”

“Why, yes!”

Aaron huffed. “Tell me, if you’re a Jedi, how come you haven’t killed me yet?”

“I should be asking that question. After all, you were the ones who started the massacre.” Aaron tensed. He didn’t like thinking about that time. “I mean in a fight between the two of us, you’re more likely to win considering the historical aspects.”

“Would you like to try and prove your theory?”

“Ah, you spent time with Master Plo, I see.”

Aaron’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you think that?”

“Am I wrong?” The figure took his silence as affirmation. “He was a good friend of mine. But you are no wolf.”

The man might be crazy, but he knew at least something about the war. Aaron shrugged to himself. No harm in humoring an old man. “I was once. An injury turned me into a dog.”

“Ah, a Coruscant guard. Strange to see a lost pup all the way down here.”

Aaron snorted at the ‘lost pup’ comment. While a little humiliating, it wasn’t entirely inaccurate. “I could say the same thing for a Jedi.” As insane as the man was, he was entertaining and he hadn’t killed him yet and Aaron was tired and didn’t mind the company. With a start he realized this was probably the longest conversation he’d had with a sentient being in maybe years.

“If you want to know how I got down here, I’m afraid it’s a rather long, sad story.”

The two sat in silence for a moment.

“I thought you were just going to get into it.”

“I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

“You’ve practically dragged me into this conversation. I figured you were more than happy to continue doing so.”

“Do you want me to tell the story or not?”

“By all means, continue.”

The figure turned to him and for the first time Aaron noticed he hadn’t even been looking at the clone. “What is your name, child?”

Child? Though he supposed in standard years he’d only be in his twenties. “Aaron,” he answered quietly.

The figure bowed its head respectfully. “Very well, Aaron. If it a story you want, I will tell it. But it is not my own.”

Aaron huffed, but the man either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

Kit’s eyes shot open. The first thing he noticed was the searing pain in his side. The second was that he was being pulled through the hallway by clones, thought they were not any clones he recognized. These were not the compassionate, valiant men he’d come to know the past five years; they were cold, impassive, and distant in a way that frightened the disoriented Jedi.

Yet he knew he couldn’t allow his fear to compound him. He drew in the Force and shoved the imposters into the distant wall, rendering them unconscious. Blearily, the Nautolan quickly assessed his surroundings. He was in the red hall connecting the Supreme Chancellor’s private study to his formal meeting office. The windows had been shattered and glass littered the far end of the room. In the distance the Jedi Temple was in flames.

In flames? It was then that Kit noticed the pain, not in his body, but in the air around him. It was suffocating, the screams of Jedi pouring into his lungs and drowning him. His world, so full of life and color, was suddenly empty. Nothing but fire remained. His heart wrenched as he felt desperately for someone, anyone. Looking back he could see the dark colors of the Chancellor’s study as well as too motionless robbed figures.

He brought his hand to his head, trying to shake away the darkness that clouded his mind. He could faintly remember going to confront Palpatine with Mace, Agen, and Saesee. Mournfully, Kit gazed at the bodies of what could only be his two friends, wondering if Mace had escaped. Clearly he hadn’t been successful, but Kit knew his friend better than to think Mace wouldn’t give his life before fleeing. Prodding gently with the Force, he could tell neither Master Kolar nor Master Tinn were alive. He dropped his head, despair washing over him. Just how many Jedi had fallen?

He shook his head. Now was not the time to grieve. He needed to focus on the present with the all the energy he could muster if he were to survive. He looked to the heaps of armored men. He’d need to be extra cautious if these were not the only imposters. It was unlikely they were.

He crawled out of the hall and into the lift, dragging himself up until he was limping heavily. The gash in his left side had cauterized, thankfully, but he sensed there was something darker within the core of the wound and he wouldn’t last long on his feet. Black spots had clouded his vision since he’d risen to a stand. Nonetheless, the stubborn Jedi refused to submit to his fate so easily. Not when he didn’t know who else was out there.

The elevator halted and the doors slid open. The hall of the Senate was absolute chaos. Essentially the lobby of the Senate building, the large “hall” was a giant room that took up the entire floor of the building, meant as a holding area for concerned citizens come to express their grievances to their designated representative. Though, due to both the extensive reach of the Galactic Senate, most systems had separate representatives to meet with the people. Of course, once the war started, it soon became impossible to not have at least one secondary representative. Even with the thousands that came pouring in everyday, the room was so massive that it was never completely filled.

Until now. The crowd was enormous. Kit had seen battalions smaller than this. Everyone- from senators to guards to servants to citizens to droids- all clamored about, scurrying in every direction, bumping into people. There were at least three separate fights as people knocked each other over in the hectic environment, growing violent in the bustling room. People were screaming in fear, getting trampled, exchanging what little information they had with others and demanding explanations from clones who were supposedly standing guard, though remaining stoic and eerily silent, not bothering to help the fallen or the injured, transfixed by some unknown presence within their own minds. Kit shuddered as he ducked past one, fortunate that the crowd managed to hide him from their sight. Luckily no one paid heed to the Jedi groping his way past them towards one of the lesser-known routes to a worker’s hangar.

The hangar was surprisingly empty considering the tumultuous circumstances. Kit hauled himself into a nondescript ship of average size, hoping to draw as little attention to himself as possible. He quickly made his way to the cockpit and collapsed in the pilot seat. With a start he realized he had no idea where to go.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t go to the temple. His very instincts were fighting against the desire to investigate the burning building that represented the center of the Jedi, but something even deeper within warned him of the dangers. If he went now, he would surely be going to his death. For all the despair dwelling in his heart, Kit thought mournfully, he wouldn’t mind death about now.

No. He shook the darkness away. He needed to stay alive- he didn’t know how many Jedi were remaining. If all the clones had indeed turned on them, Kit doubted many survived. With his list of enemies increasing drastically, he realized he wouldn’t be able to go to any Republic outposts, which severely limited his options. He cursed- as friendly as he was, he hadn’t exactly made many acquaintances outside the Republic.

Grimly, he set his course. He wasn’t sure if he’d be allowed, but he was at least halfway certain they wouldn’t kill him on sight.

He was headed home.

-

From space, Glee Anslem looked rather similar to the mineral chrysocolla, found on carbon based planets. The crystal blue water was luminescent even in the depths of the darkness of space, speckled with the occasional stretch of green land. Although it didn’t look inhabited, much less industrialized, the population of Nautolans were located mainly in underwater cities that served as focal points for trade and commerce throughout the Jalor sector. Yet their increased involvement with the Namadii Corridor had recently sprouted several minor cities and towns on land, causing territorial disputes with the Anselmi, who had problems of their own well before the intrusion of the amphibious species. The Jedi were likely to become involved, despite the mutual disdain for off-worlders held by both species, but the Clone Wars had taken up time usually meant for actually keeping the peace.

Nonetheless, Kit was able to easily locate one of the Nautolan cities and headed for the nearest dock, where the guards had already come to greet the unexpected arrival. Kit stumbled out of the ship, his arm pressing against his crudely wrapped bandages. He’d feared sleeping on the ship, not sure he would wake up, so he’d busied himself attempting to clean his wound. Unfortunately, Kit was far from a medic and all he seemed to be doing was making it hurt more by moving, so he stuck to trying to reach out with the Force to any Jedi stragglers. He grimaced. He knew he’d already pushed himself past his limits- the brief respite from action on the journey hadn’t done much to replenish his vigor. He was draining himself of the Force just trying to keep himself conscious, using more energy to push himself onwards in the past few hours than he’d probably used in the past month of the Clone Wars, and he was definitely feeling the impact.

The injured Jedi all but collapsed into one of the guard’s arms. The Nautolan discarded his spear, shooting his partner a wary look. “Are you alright?” he asked, returning to the stranger and pressing a hand gently yet firmly against his back to hold him steady. Kit took a moment to assess the two before him. The first guard’s amphibious skin was a light green, not dissimilar to the Jedi’s own color, while the second was a pale blue. Both were in Glee Anselm soldier garb, a uniform Kit had only before seen in pictures as he studied the culture of his homeworld from the distant Coruscant. Their torsos were bare and they had plain knee length shorts, since the ability to move freely was more necessary to a Nautolan warrior than protection, though they had armored tassets hooked to their belts and lightweight arm guards.

Kit flashed his teeth in a pearly grin. “I’m fine,” he rasped. “Though if you were on your way to stopping by a medic, please don’t hold back on my account.”

The first guard huffed, amused by the stranger’s bitter humor. Yet the second nodded slightly to the stranger’s ruined robes and easily distinguishable weapon. “Who are you?” the blue one asked gruffly.

Kit’s dulled senses hadn’t picked up on the subtle communication between the two. Though thirty years of isolation granted him an excuse as to not being able to recognize the Nautolan’s meaningful eye contact, which was capable of conveying warnings and tidings much faster than verbally. “I’m Jedi Master Kit Fisto. I come from Glee Anselm. This is my home.”

The blue one stiffened. “You haven’t been able to call this home since you left for the temple, Jedi,” he spat.

“Drex!” the other snapped, instinctively tightening his grip protectively around the injured man, who tried not to wince at the pressure.

“Lerel, you heard what they did to the Jedi,” Drex hissed. “If the Republic finds out one of them is with us, they will crush us. It’s not like we need more enemies right now.”

Lerel looked at the man in his arms, who’d gone completely silent, his eyes distant. Lerel could sense the emotion radiating off the Jedi in waves. He didn’t need pheromone-sensing headtails to know he was thinking about the massacre. He frowned resolutely. “He was one of us before he was one of them. We’re taking him to Aki’s.”

Drex grimaced before helping his friend carry the man to the local medic.

-

Kit Fisto, like the others in his species, was more than accustomed to being underwater. Their gill-like structures on the sides of their heads paired with their humanoid lungs made for a distinguished class of amphibians highly evolved to accommodate the bodily needs to survive on both land and water. No amount of time spent on land could change that. Kit Fisto was a Nautolan through and through.

That didn’t mean it was any less of a shock when he woke up several hundred feet underwater. The Jedi’s eyes shot open and he seized out of bed, floating up a few inches, subconsciously gasping for breath. The sudden movement sent a searing pain running up his side and he cursed admittedly loudly.

Before he could bring his hand to the offending area, a strong grip quickly grabbed his wrist. Kit didn’t have a chance to register what was happening before he flung the assailant across the room. Physics didn’t work quite the same underwater, but it still worked. Kit jolted up, flailing his limbs in a failed attempt to escape, still not accustomed to the sudden adjustment of moving underwater.

Suddenly more hands wrapped around his arms and legs, pinning him to the bed. “Get him down! Get him down!” He didn’t register the panicked shouts. “Be careful! Sedate him if you have to!” Kit thrashed against the clutches of the restrainers, his hands curled into fists and kicking wildly. There was only one part of his mind that was awake and aware: escape.

“Don’t antagonize him!” the command was sharp and clear from across the room. Instantly the grasp relaxed on his limbs, though still firm. Kit blinked, the dreary haze clearing from his mind as he began taking in his surroundings. The two guards from before were holding him down gently, as well as three others. When he looked up at them, they seemed to sense his lucidity that his moment of madness had passed. The one he remembered as Lerel looked down at him and smiled comfortingly. Kit looked towards the Nautolan he’d thrown to the side- the one who’d ordered the men to stand down. Her skin was a pale orange and she was in medic garb. The standard Nautolan base clothing was paired with what resembled what could only be a lab coat or something to that effect.

She grabbed her tablet and came to his bedside, looking down with large, prodding eyes. “Do you know where you are?” Her voice was low and somehow soothing despite its detached clarity.

He opened his mouth to speak. He had a general idea of where he was, but he didn’t know exactly where-

“Nod your head yes or no,” she interrupted him before he could speak. He blinked before shaking his head no. She raised an eyebrow and tapped her screen.

“Do you remember coming here?” A hesitant nod.

“Do you remember what happened before coming here?” He grimaced before shaking his head.

Her gaze softened. She nodded curtly to the guards, who backed off. Kit noticed they were still within arms reach should the Jedi try anything. “You’re Kit Fisto?” He nodded warily. “You’ve been here three weeks. After your unanticipated appearance on the docks, Drex and Lerel brought you to me and you’ve been in a sort of coma ever since. I’m Doctor Aki. I’ve cleaned and bandaged your wounds. You’ve already begun the healing process, which is amplified by your Force-sensitivity. Er, so I’ve read. Anyway, the cut, which is presumably by a lightsaber, didn’t cut through any major arteries or organs, but I’m afraid we’ll need fibronetting to secure some of the areas around the wound just to be safe. It’s the nerve damage that concerns me. We’ll be doing routine tests for the next four to six months to make sure your left leg isn’t experiencing any problems. We need to be careful; any strenuous activity could lead to further disruption of connection between synapses, which we wouldn’t be able to fix. In the meantime, I’d suggest-“

“Are there others?” Kit had always prided himself on being patient in hospitals, especially compared to his fellow Jedi who generally detested med bays as a rule, but he found the doctor’s astute prognosis to be taking a rather long time.

Dr. Aki frowned and checked her charts. “There weren’t any other wounds that I’m aware of, other than some superficial bruises and scratching-“

“Are there other Jedi? Did any others survive?” He chided himself for being so harsh. The medic’s shoulders seemed to slump ever so slightly and none of the guards would meet his eyes. He looked at her desperately. “Did any others survive?” he repeated.

“Not that I know of,” she spoke softly. He rested his head against the pillow and shut his eyes tightly. “I’m sorry. The Jedi have been deemed traitors by Chancellor-“

“Emperor,” a guard coughed.

“-Palpatine. The senate is putting up a reward for all remaining Jedi who survived Order 66.”

“Then why haven’t you killed me yet?” Kit asked through gritted teeth. No one survived? He was painfully aware of the guards’ stares. He hated mourning in front of an audience.

Before the doctor would respond, Lerel spoke up. “You’re a Nautolan. You’re one of us. You always have been and you always will be. We protect our own.”

Kit felt his emotions bubbling to the surface. Grief, that he was the only survivor. Relief, that at least he was safe for now. Guilt, he should have died alongside his family instead of leaving them to die. Shock, as he realized for perhaps the first time that he’d never see his loved ones again. Shame, for being so selfish as to feel such pain for their deaths instead of rejoicing their reunion with the Force.

Anger, at everyone responsible for this.

“But it’s not up to us what to do with you,” Dr. Aki broke his disturbing chain of thoughts. “The elders will decide whether to keep you here. But they don’t want to risk the wrath of the Empire.” Kit winced. He realized coming here endangered whoever housed him, but he had nowhere else to go. The medic began unwrapping his bandages and checking his wound. He was in no state to leave on his own. But how could he accept the Nautolans’ kindness knowing what would happen should the Jedi be discovered?

He closed his eyes and tried not to think about it.

-

The Council of Elders had been a form of authority long before the Republic had decreed mandatory senatorial representation from its territories. Each notable region would elect and send their most well-respected elder, who either achieved such esteemed recognition through wisdom or battle, where they would debate the needs of the people with the morals of the land in order to create various treaties, legislative decrees, and other major decisions involving the wellbeing of the underwater inhabitants of Glee Anselm.

The reappearance of Kit Fisto was certainly a point of interest among the elders. With the bounty out on all Jedi, harboring the fugitive was certainly dangerous, but the tightly bound nature of Nautolans refused to accept discarding the friendless man. Nautolans were cautious around outsiders as a rule, so an offworld entity demanding the exile of one of their own was not something the elders would normally consider. However, the looming threat of the Intergalactic Senate was not something to be taken lightly. If Master Fisto was discovered, the Empire would not be forgiving to the secretive species. With increased aggression from the Anslemi, the last thing the Nautolans needed was another war.

The heated arguments weighing the consequences of either action would continue for quite some time, though they’d at last come to one decision: they would not kill the Jedi. Which Kit supposed he should be grateful for.

The Jedi’s arrival had been kept a secret for precautionary reasons, but, as is the norm with close-knit communities, everyone in the city quickly knew. Information was limited, but spread like wildfire on the Jedi’s circumstances. Some said it was just the remains of the Jedi smuggled from the massacre on Coruscant. It was also rumored the Jedi was secretly training others to fight against the Empire. It was even claimed that the Jedi had bewitched the medic and was holding her hostage until he got what he wanted. Nonetheless, people found themselves paying close attention to Dr. Aki’s for the next few months.

Kit was restless. Even after over two weeks of being fully conscious, Aki wouldn’t let him do anything requiring any physical exertion whatsoever. The most he could get away with was swimming aimlessly around his room. It wasn’t until the elders finally made their decision that he was allowed to go to other parts of the hospital. It was when Kit was allowed visitors that he finally realized why Aki was so desperate to keep him separated.

Eventually, after the initial swath of curious citizens got their first look at the real-life Jedi, the guards decided to filter out the majority of the adoringly pestilent visitors and well-wishers. Kit was surprised at the sheer amount of cards and flowers he was sent. Although he’d had his fair share of admirers, he hadn’t had such direct gestures of veneration. Nonetheless, he was more than appreciative of the guards preventing the avid enthusiasts from harassing him constantly.

However, he’d rather face one hundred zealous supporters than the far less cheerful visitors the guards allowed inside. Two families had come to see the Jedi to ask about their sons, who had been taken to the temple as well. Kit knew they just wanted a little information- nothing any parent wouldn’t want from their child. After all, the temple rarely reconnected with the parents, even to inform them of death. But that left the Master woefully unprepared to deliver the frightful news.

Knox’s family came first. The father and mother were clinging to each other with a desperation that made Kit’s heart long for something akin to that kind of companionship- the sort of craving a Jedi only gets after seeing what kind of life they could have led. The family’s remaining child shadowed them closely, though he could no longer be considered a child. He was at least a foot taller than his father and his defined features and odd birthmarks reminded Kit painfully of Knox. His news was undeniably easier to handle, since Kit actually knew with absolute certainty the poor Padawan’s fate.

Kit stood up at the sight of the family huddled together. “Ex-excuse me,” the mother choked back her sob. “Master Fisto?”

Kit nodded solemnly. Easier or not, this would still be difficult.

“I’m Jerra and this is my husband, Reynar, and our eldest son, Oden. Our boy Knox was taken to the temple nineteen years ago. Tell me, have you seen our son?” she asked. She laughed softly, though he suspected it was only to keep herself from crying. “I’m sorry. I know we can’t expect you to know every Jedi in the temple, but I figured since he was a Nautolan-“

“It’s alright, ma’am.” Kit raised his hand. “I knew your son.”

The mother stared at him, her wide eyes filled with hope Kit couldn’t bare to see. Her husband’s grip on her waist grew tighter. Oden scowled darkly at his parents. “See, he’s dead, just like we thought.”

Reynar glanced back at his son, sputtering, “We don’t know that.”

“He said he knew Knox. There’s no point in false hope, father.”

Kit tentatively reached out with the Force, calming the eldest son. His pheromone sensing was heightened underwater, but he found it cruel to practice his untrained skills on the grieving family. Either way, he could sense the Oden was just taking out his sorrows on his parents. “I’m so sorry,” he affirmed. “But your son died a few years before the Empire.”

Jerra gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. “What?” she managed, her breathing coming in rapid pants. Her husband’s knuckled paled where he clutched her, his lip quivering.

“He was on a mission defending a temple on Deveron during the Clone Wars. A manic Zabrak attacked. His body was burned at the temple and he was given many honors-“

“Who cares what honors he was given in death? He’s dead!” Reynar snapped. “Where was his master? Where was his master to protect him from that?”

“Master Halsey died defending your son, on that I can assure you.” He reached for the family, attempting to comfort them.

They flinched away from the Jedi, the two parents retreating back into the hallway, sobbing at the loss of their son. Oden didn’t look up from his feet, but he stayed in the room. “What was he like?” he asked at last.

Kit smiled softly. “He was a sweet boy. He was very protective of others- more so than the other Padawans. And he loved to learn. I don’t think he was tardy to a single class, not even astro-chart readings.”

“How do you know?” he asked quietly.

“I spoke to him every so often. It can be difficult for the less humanoid younglings in the crèche, so I’ve been sort of looking out for him.”

Oden nodded slowly, a sad smile forming from his tired features. “You know, I always wanted a little brother.” His confession was little more than a whisper. Kit found himself at a loss for words as the child- even if he was twenty, he was still a child- followed his parents out the door.

Kit returned to his bed, emotionally exhausted by the encounter. The Jedi had taken away their child without any attempt to ease their pain. Kit had always assumed the parents gladly gave up their children, not stopping to consider the repercussions of losing a child. Even if they were still alive, the children were lost to the parents; they had no way of contacting their family and were shunned from asking too many questions. What kind of cult would rip away a baby from its mother’s arms?

Before he’d never questioned the sanctity of the Jedi. They were right, and that was that. But lately he found himself evaluating the decisions that led to their downfall. The Jedi took children from all over the galaxy and raised them to be peaceful warriors destined to die on some distant planet far from anything they’d had a chance to call home. They fought fights that weren’t theirs, even long before the events of the Clone Wars.

Kit had always been told that the purpose of the Jedi was to establish order and maintain peace in a galaxy ravaged by chaos and other elements of the dark- the tendrils of lust and greed and wrath and gluttony had twisted itself into the minds of susceptible being everywhere, calling for the aid of the Jedi just by showing weakness to such evil. Yet none of these sins were lost upon the so-called purity of the Jedi. By claiming moral superiority over all living things, what else could the Council be but arrogant?

His troubling thoughts were interrupted as the doctor came in to check on him.

A few days later, he received a visit from another anxious family. Zatt’s family was admittedly large, which only seemed to make the news worse, as so many more ears had to hear it. Other than the mother and the father, there were four other children; the oldest seemed to be about seventeen and the youngest couldn’t have been older than twelve.

“I’m Berut,” the woman introduced herself, her arms wrapped protectively around her children. She was much calmer than Jerra, presumably for her kids’ sakes.

“I’m Knin,” the father seemed like he was going to shake hands, but thought better of it. He pointed to his children from shortest to tallest. “This is Fip, Rhirru, Yat, and Fresseh.”

“But we came to ask you about our other child. Zatt? He would’ve been a year younger than Fip, here,” Berut asked. Although her demeanor was serene than the disorderly sorrow from Jerra, the same desperation was still in her eyes. Kit found that eyes were another means of communication that came naturally to Nautolans, but he had yet to refine his skill.

“Yes, I remember him. He was sweet and charming. He loved those datapads of his,” Kit chuckled lightly, remembering numerous separate occasions where the little Nautolan would run into walls or other people in the halls with his nose stuck to his screen and wrist-deep in mechanical grime. “He was smart, that one.”

Berut nodded. “So he’s gone, then?”

Kit grimaced. “In all likelihood. He was in the temple when the clones attacked.”

“Is there any chance he could have escaped?” the father asked despairingly. He was less successful at keeping up appearances.

“I- I do not want to give you hope where there is none.”

The parents nodded in unison, quietly containing their devastation. One of the children, Rhirru, piped up. “Was he happy?”

The Jedi was caught off guard by the question. “Yes,” he reasoned. “He had friends and a family. He was happy.”

“I thought we were his family,” Fip looked up at his mother. Berut hushed the child and ushered them out of the room, turning back to give Kit one final nod of thanks.

Was he happy? Were any of them happy? Kit struggled with the query. Of course they were happy. They led very satisfying lives; they dedicated everything to helping others. They lived surrounded by their friends and people who could sympathize and empathize with them. Due to their strict moral code, nothing controversial was accepted, so there was no possibility of real opposition. They had what were essentially superpowers. They lived ultimately peacefully, defined by the way their lives affected those around them. That was surely happiness.

But were they given a choice otherwise? Their entire lives were dictated by a creed dating back before even the eldest could remember; anything beyond that was forbidden. For all the glory or humility in the world, they had to keep vigil and watch as people outside their little bubble led their lives and truly, truly lived. They suffered through love and loss and failure and favor. Yet the Jedi weren’t allowed any of that. They were told, under no exceptions, to completely bind themselves to their duty until the line between idea and man had become blurred beyond perception.

The most alive Kit had ever felt was with Nahdar  and the secret love he’d harbored for the boy. Not every master felt such patriarchal affection for their padawan, but Kit knew he certainly did. And until Nahdar ’s death, Kit hadn’t known true pain. Certainly he’d gone through physical suffering, but that was nothing compared to the agonizing loss of what he considered to be his child. Yet, for all that despair and wretchedness, Kit wouldn’t trade all of those moments of bliss and serenity for anything in the galaxy. Perhaps what he’d been told was happiness all this time was nothing but ignorance. Perhaps true happiness lie in the forbidden- in love.

Kit was once again roused from his thoughts by the medic. Dr. Akri poked and prodded at the oddly silent Jedi. Over the past few weeks, Akri had grown rather accustomed to the patient’s near constant chatter. She frowned down at the man as she changed his bandages. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?”

The Jedi took a moment before responding, running a hand over his face and blinking rapidly. “Why are all the Jedi the youngest children?”

Dr. Akri looked down at him. “I imagine giving a child away and never seeing it again is no different than losing one. There’s rarely a recovery for that.”

Kit shut his eyes for a moment before gazing back up at the doctor, whose brow had furrowed. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” she said, returning to her datapad. “It’s just curious how you blink. Nautolans don’t usually blink. In some parts of the galaxy it’s debated that we even have eyelids. But I suppose it’s a cultural habit you picked up on Coruscant.”

Kit exhaled. “It’s ridiculous that I’m estranged from my own people. I have to relearn my own culture, my own identity. I hadn’t even noticed that’s why people have been looking at me funny until now.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she chuckled. “That’s not the only reason people are looking at you funny.”

He shot her a look, which only made her look even more smug. He rolled his eyes.

-

The doctor was accompanied by Lerel and Drex on her next visit. Kit frowned and sat up, sensing something was amiss. “What’s wrong?”

Dr. Akri sighed. “The elders haven’t been able to come to a decision. Senator Darsana won’t hear any more arguments. He’s coming from Coruscant to assess the situation himself and hopefully spur the elders into a more authoritative roll.”

“So he’s coming to kick me out?”

“No,” Lerel said, his comforting grin firmly in place. With a start, Kit realized he used to grin just like that not so long ago. “He’s just coming to put more pressure on the elders.”

“That being said,” Drex added with a friendly smirk, “try not to get on his bad side. It wouldn’t hurt for him to like you. It’d make our job a lot easier.”

“And what’s your job?”

“To protect you.” Drex stated confidently.

The Jedi blinked, causing Dr. Akri to laugh. A knock on the door disrupted the four and another guard swam into the room. “You have a visitor, Master Fisto.”

Dr. Akri nodded to Kit as they left the room, passing a woman holding a curious bundle in her arms. The female Nautolan was petite- smaller than most women he’d seen here. Her robes were weathered and cheap, clearly from years of wear. “Master Fisto?” Her voice was high and nearly shaking. He could sense the anxiety coming off of her in waves.

“What is it?”

“My name is Arcaena. I need your help.” He hadn’t even recognized the third life form in the room until a split second before she revealed the contents of the blanket.

It was a baby. A beautiful baby boy with almost iridescent blue skin. Kit sensed something different about the boy and, with a start, realized the child was Force sensitive. He looked at the woman in astonishment. Did she know the risks of bringing the child here?

Of course she did, he realized, that’s why she’s here.

“Please, I need your help. You need to take this baby.”

Kit was startled. “What?”

“Please, I can’t take care of him. You need to protect him.” Her eyes were watering. “Please. The father is gone and I don’t know what else to do. They’ll find him and they’ll hurt him, I know this in my heart. He’s too strong for me. They’re too strong for me. Please. You’re a Jedi; he’s one of you!

He found himself at a loss. Her emotional tirade seemed genuine, as did her helplessness. “I- I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“Take him,” she urged, thrusting the baby towards him.

-

Kit had turned away, saying he needed time to think about it. The woman had given him on last desperate look before leaving him alone. How could she want to give away her own child? He swept a hand over his face. She had never even referred to the child by his name. He couldn’t believe that a mother could really hate her child, but he believed that a mother could fear him.

It occurred to him that Arcaena must love her child immensely to be willing to give him up for his own safety. She viewed herself as weak and incapable of handling such a responsibility. Then again, it was rare for a Force sensitive child grew up outside the realm of the Jedi temple. She had every right to be scared, especially with the rumored Jedi hunters relentlessly searching the galaxy for any stragglers. The news of the hunters came as both a blessing and a curse: there were enough survivors to warrant special operatives, but these hunters were likely highly trained and ruthless unlike anything they’d ever seen before. It takes more than strength to kill a Jedi- it takes cunning. Kit’s own experiences with sadistic bounty hunters led him to believe it wouldn’t be long before the Jedi’s already painfully low numbers dwindled down to nothing.

Kit shuddered to think what would happen to a child that was found- likely something far worse than death. Force sensitive children had always been coveted, especially for slavers and other traffickers. But he doubted the Empire would be so merciful. His thoughts dwelled on Maul, who he knew spent his adolescence tortured beyond all imagining to keep him firmly in the clutches of evil. For all the wrongs the Jedi had done, at least they had not tormented children, he thought. Manipulated and sent off to war? Yes. But not this.

Kit’s musings were cut short by a curt knock on the door. Kit rose as guards lined the room, eyeing them cautiously- these were not the guards he had grown accustomed to and he couldn’t see Lerel or Drex anywhere. No, these were more than just your average soldiers. Unlike the regular city guards, these had chest plates and helms, designed for maximum protection. It didn’t take Kit long to figure out that this wasn’t for fighting- it was for defense. Should the object under their care come under fire, it was these men who would throw themselves at the danger, sacrificing themselves. It didn’t take a Jedi to figure out what kind of rank would be deserving of such dedication.

“Senator Darsana,” the Jedi bowed respectfully, risking a glance up at his new visitor.

A far cry from the rags that clung to the begging mother, the Anselmi was adorned with fanciful clothing. Despite the uncomfortable material needed to make the outfit waterproof and pressurized, the suit had a discreet elegance fitting for a royal senator. The only thing that really threw off the look was the rather large helmet allowing the much more human-like humanoid to breath underwater, though he supposed that couldn’t be helped. Through the glass, Kit could see the Anselmi features: large dark spots peppering the edges of the face in an almost reptilian pattern, the sporadic patches of muted feathers indicative of a stressful daily process, the dark small eyes bereft of the emotion that was so blatantly obvious in the Nautolans’, the nose slits humming dutifully and the thin mouth pursed into something not quite resembling a frown. Kit grimaced when he realized the whole Jedi situation was probably doing a little to dampen his mood.

“Master Jedi.” The Anselmi were known to have liquid voices. Kit would’ve thought liquid voices underwater wouldn’t sound as nice as it did, but the soothing drone was nearly enough to disarm the Jedi. “I’m pleased to finally meet you at last. I must admit we’ve been somewhat following your exploits since you left us all those years ago. We’re proud that such a mighty warrior has come from our world.”

Kit put on a nice smile, preparing himself for the tedium of politics. “Thank you, sir. It’s an honor.”

There was a glimmer in the Senator’s eye. “An honor to be a warrior, to be watched, or to hail from here?” Kit blinked stupidly. Darsana chuckled, bringing his elongated fingers to tap on his own shoulder, his elbow resting on his arm. “Tell me, Master Fisto, what brought you to our humble star system after the fall of the Jedi?”

Kit repressed a gulp, but still found himself appreciative of the man’s directness. “I had nowhere else to go,” he admitted. “Nowhere else to go but home.”

The Anselmi nodded thoughtfully and began pacing the room slowly. “You’ve brought a great danger to my people by coming here. It’s not a secret that relations between the Nautolans and the Anselmi are tense right now. The last thing we need is unwanted attention from the Empire.”

“So it is unwanted?”

“While we could easily agree that any attention from fascists is unwanted, I’m afraid the safety of the people is worth more than any petty personal vendetta I may have, don’t you agree?”

Kit flushed, embarrassed that his sorry excuse for a negotiating strategy had been found out so quickly. He’d hoped to rely on the senator’s well-known spite for the chancellor, now emperor, as a way to weasel his way into the senator’s good favor. He cursed himself for not listening more closely to Kenobi’s prattling on the intricacies of rhetoric. Instead he realized this meeting would be safer as a one-way conversation. “Yes,” he said stiffly.

“Should the Empire get word of your presence, they would no doubt bring a swift and destructive end to your residence, which would certainly end in collateral damage. The Republic has never been known for its discretion in such matters and I’m afraid the brutality has only increased with the transformation into a much more regimented regime.”

“Yes, sir,” Kit thought of the innocent casualties suffered at the hands of Republic troops, including his own, in the past five years. The cries of dying children echoed through his mind.

“As much as I pity your position, you must do well to understand ours. I’m afraid we can’t have you here without endangering the lives of our people.”

“I understand.” Kit understood more than the senator could ever know.

“My hands are tied. The fact is, I swore an oath to the Republic.”

“So did I.”

The senator paused and Kit noticed for the first time that he seemed genuinely concerned for him. “I’m sorry we can’t do more. Ultimately it is up to the elders to decide, but I will ensure that they at least allow you to remain until your wounds have fully healed.”

Kit subconsciously pressed his hand to his side. “And if they decided I would stay longer?”

Darsana sighed and reached to scratch his neck, startled when his hand thudded lightly against the glass helmet. “I’d present your case to the senate and, should it come to that, we’d gather our warriors and prepare for invasion.”

Kit was silent as the senator nodded respectfully and left the room, his entourage not two steps behind.

-

They would not survive a war, Kit thought, looking out his window at the glowing depths of the city. The fact that his staying was still a debate was proof enough that there were those willing to fight and die for him. At least one or more of the elders were adamant about him remaining and would give up Glee Anselm’s fairly pacifistic ideals in order to protect him.

Kit couldn’t allow that. He couldn’t just sit back and watch as these wonderful, colorful, benevolent people threw their lives away for him. Even beyond the code of the Jedi, that was just something that Kit wouldn’t consider from a moral standpoint. He’d grown up his entire life knowing he would die to protect those in need. What kind of hypocrite would he be if he allowed these people to sacrifice themselves for him?

Of course, Kit wasn’t so selfish as to think this was all about him. The authoritative totalitarian government the Republic turned into had cast doubts in the mind of every free star system. Whispers of a Rebel alliance growing to oppose the looming evil of the Empire were suddenly solidified as reports of increased attacks on trooper convoys and Imperial outposts trickled in from around the galaxy. Raids far too numerous for the standard pillaging of pirates could only mean the rise of some league of insurgencies to combat the toxic spread of the Emperor’s curling fingers. More and more star systems were secretly aligning themselves with the traitors, giving more validity to the defense of any remaining Jedi.

Of course, what were the Jedi? What were they other than reminders of a broken past? The Jedi, for all their esteem and regard, were nothing compared to the lengths of the mistakes they made. Over the weeks Kit had spent on Glee Anselm, observing real people and real places, he realized just how much had been taken from him. His chance at real life had been stripped, as had all the others who were so easily deceived by the cunning lies set up by the Jedi. Yet after generation upon generation of practitioners, was it even a lie anymore? The empty promises of peace and prosperity had their own merit merely by surviving for the centuries that it did. The vibrance and joy they had all sworn to uphold was nothing but a dull throbbing of mutilated abstention. How could Kit blame the Council for merely abiding by the only lie they’d ever known?

Did that allow Kit to continue the cycle? Kit was barely a knight himself before he’d taken on young Nahdar as his padawan. The headstrong little runt was so full of life and energy. He would’ve given anything to see what he would have become without the binding tenants of the Jedi. The Mon Calamari pupil was so eager to please; there was nothing he wanted more than to gratify his master. It was that determined altruism that led to his downfall.

Kit hadn’t been able to teach him how to deal with the pressure of concealing his emotions. Instead, Nahdar became an unstable deity susceptible to eruptions of anger stemming from his own inability to suppress his unimaginable powers. With so much pure vitality and no outlet, Nahdar became yet another victim of the Jedi’s cruel inadequacies.  He couldn’t do that to another child. He wouldn’t.

He thought of Arcaena and the boy she’d do anything but live for. As the baby grew into his powers, it would begin drawing more attention. Arcaena would live in fear of the day the Empire would find them and take her child away. Eventually the mother would grow wary of strangers’ glances, suspicious of everyone and everything that showed the merest hint of curiosity in the boy. At last, overwhelmed by the claustrophobic weight of eyes on her and her son, she’d leave. She’d gather up her minimalist resources and travel throughout the galaxy, slowly selling herself away to care for the pair. They’d be hunted relentlessly. The child, as he grew up, would live to see his mother’s misery and would blame himself for it, going so far as wishing death upon himself if it would ease her suffering. He’d do everything he could to help her, but she wouldn’t allow it. His exposure left too much up to chance; if he was found, she would lose everything. He was all she had left. She was all he ever knew. So she continued killing herself to keep them afloat and he would wait out his days in little more than a prison, hiding from the world. His capture would be inevitable. They would find him and rip him from his mother’s grasp. It wouldn’t matter if they killed her- she was dead anyway. In truth, she had died long ago. Only the love for her son was keeping her together, like a thin thread holding a ruined tapestry. His loss would devastate her beyond all imagining. Whether they killed him or forced him into becoming something far worse, she’d be left to suffer a fate worse than death.

Knowing all his, Kit couldn’t bring himself to take the child. He may be wrong by not accepting the responsibility, but he wouldn’t be making the same mistakes he’d made in the past. He wouldn’t ruin a child’s life by subjugating him to the one he had. Not anymore.

His decision was made. Late at night, he gathered up a few basic materials and snuck out of the hospital. He ran to one of the docking ports and boarded a ship, stealing away before anyone could know he was missing. Kit hesitated as he thought of Dr. Akri and Drex and Lerel and all the other friends he had made here. He shook his head and clasped the controls resolutely. He wouldn’t allow people to suffer because of him any longer. He wouldn’t give them that choice.

He didn’t know where he would go, but it would be far away from here.

Aaron opened his eyes at the man’s silence. “Is that it?” he asked, unwilling to admit that he’d wanted an ending with a little more closure than that.

The figure turned his head to face the clone. “No, I suppose not. But it’s getting late and you have regained your strength.”

Aaron stood up, grimacing and clutching his ribs. He contemplated for a moment. “Why did you tell me this?”

The figure shrugged. “You don’t seem that different from Kit, to me.” He chuckled as Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Come now, it’s just a story. Just a silly old story some poor sop on the street made up.”

Aaron scowled. “Why?”

“A man once said to me, ‘You don’t know real loss until you love something more than yourself.’ Neither of us knew at the time that I loved everything more than myself because I was undeserving of love. I grew up in a world where I meant nothing. That was all I knew. So when I lost my world, I lost everything that I thought had meaning. But in reality, I still had the most important thing in the galaxy: myself. The world doesn’t end just because you die. Why should you end just because the world dies? I had the ability to breathe love into a new reality, and, after many years of trying to remember how, I did. Oh, I did.” The hooded figure, despite the shadows concealing his face, still managed to stare directly at the clone. “We are not so different, you and I. We are so much more than what we were told. We are so much more than our maker.”

Aaron found himself getting frustrated at the man’s remarks. All his life he’d been told he was worth nothing, that he was just a number. If he lost the only thing that he’d ever known, the only thing he’d identified with, he was nothing. He may be a sorry excuse for an absconder, but at least he still had that much. Angrily, he spat at the ground beneath the tattered figure and stormed off, determined to find his way home.

He was nothing. He was nothing.

He’d never been told differently.

He’d always taken that mantra with a grain of salt. As he fought alongside his brothers defending the innocent and fighting for the righteous, he knew that, with them, he was more than a number. He was a part of something good and glorious, and that made him at least part good and glorious. He’d always thought that. But when he woke up from that horrible trance all those years ago to find the horrors he’d done, he finally believed them. He was a tool. A pathetic little manipulated pawn created for the sole purpose of being used in a millennia-old feud that had nothing to do with him. He was insignificant. None of anything he’d done in his entire life had any meaning or purpose. He believed that.

-

The next day the old Jedi woke up. Of course, it was impossible to tell what day it was so deep in the Underworld, but Kit liked to think he could tell when the sun rose. He smiled as a grimy little loth cat bounded up to him. He admired the undeterred vigor of the creature. No matter what traumas it had suffered through, it still managed to look up at him with those hopeful eyes. He smirked as the loth cat’s purrs as he began scratching its striped back.

Suddenly, it bounded away. The Nautolan grinned. “Back for another story?”

For the first time in years, Aaron smiled. “Maybe just one more.”

[robynqueenofstuff]

Reviews Of Stuff. Special Second Review: Star Wars: The Force Awakens

                      Tagline:The Force Is Calling To You.Just Let It In

Date Of Release: 18th December 2015                Directed by J.J. Abrams

Distributed by Walt Disney Pictures       Based on Characters by George Lucas

Yes. Oh Yes. I am going to review 2015's highest-grossing film and your slightly early Christmas present from said year, Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Back in 2012 when Disney announced that not only had they bought Lucasfilm from George Lucas but also that they were planning at least 3 new Star Wars films: Shit hit social media. As time went on it was announced that JJ Abrams would be the director of the first in what would be three new Star Wars movies and that Mark Hamill [Luke Skywalker]  Harrison Ford [Han Solo] and Carrie Fisher [Leia Organa] had signed on to reprise their roles in the next film. As time went by with news of casting calls that i was not old enough to audition for at the time, JJ Abrams working with a machete very close to his neck and goosebumps from the very first teaser trailer, The film finally premiered on December 14th, 2015, before being released worldwide four days later. The film now currently rates a 92% rating on Rotten Tomatoes and is currently the third highest-grossing film of all time, The highest grossing film of 2015, The highest grossing film in the Star Wars Franchise, The highest-grossing film released by Walt Disney Studios, The highest-grossing film in North America, finally dethroning Avatar and the third highest-grossing film of all time with . The film was also nominated for 99 awards including 5 Academy awards and won 33 of said nominations.

I am a complete Star Wars geek and so i was really excited for this movie. I got tickets for a showing on the 19th, I headed to the cinema in Carlisle, I got a Star Wars popcorn bucket, [The only time to buy the overpriced cinema popcorn is when there are themed popcorn buckets] I had my usual toilet break before the trailers. I watched the movie. I...really enjoyed it. Really. Top 3 Star Wars movies easily. But a lot of angry Youtube commenters who can't spell correctly disagree with me so i decided i'd postpone my Harry Potter reviews and impulsively do a Star Wars review. Starting with The Force Awakens. Odd one to start with i know but i'm going to do all of them eventually. Including the next ones when they eventually come out.

Ok so the film opens with the iconic crawl every Star Wars film has [You hear that Rogue One? EVERY STAR WARS FILM HAS A CRAWL] and we learn immediately that Luke has vanished rather inconveniently as an Imperial Remnant named The First Order has risen from the Empire's ashes and seeks to destroy the New Republic formed after the Rebellion's victory. His twin sister Leia Organa now leads the Resistance against the First Order and has sent her best pilot Poe Dameron, played by Oscar Isaac to retrieve what appears to be a map leading to her missing brother. He retrieves the map to Luke from a retired adventurer by the name of Lor San Tekka, played by Max Von Sydow 

but then The First Order arrives, Kills Tekka and a whole bunch of innocent settlers [Maybe Alderaan survivors?...] and captures Poe but not before he gives the map to BB-8 who then escapes and meets Rey, played by Daisy Ridley Finn played by John Boyega is a stormtrooper who finds that he doesn't want to kill innocents for the First Order and ultimately helps Poe Dameron escape but they crash on Jakku and Dameron is seemingly killed [OH NO! i-i really believe he's dead!] and Finn ends up bumping into Rey and BB-8 and they ultimately escape Jakku on the Milennium Falcon [Don't fucking call it garbage] and begin the journey to deliver the map to the Resistance, running into a certain scoundrel and his hairy companion along the way....

That's all i'm going to say on the plot even though most people probably already know it at this point, i'm not going to mention certain spoilers just in case there is anyone who doesn't. The plot of the story overall is decent though there is a couple of huge similarities to another Star Wars film but we'll get to that in a moment because other than that and a couple of plot-holes this story is good. It has likable leads, a good sense of humor, a genuine feel of mystery concerning the origins of a certain character and it does genuinely feel like a Star Wars film. It also has that awesome reason to re-watch movies....To catch all the small details in the background. Yeah it's a great reason to watch all the Star Wars movies and the Harry Potter movies actually. Things like a character's expression, a cameo in the background or a stormtrooper hitting his head on the doorway.

The characters are for the most part great and the ones that aren't are...mainly underused.

The Orig Trig Gang [Minus Lando] are back and it is great to see them again. Han Solo, Leia Organa, Chewbacca, C-3PO and R2-D2. Oh and Luke Skywalker! How could i forget Luke! The role he played! Such a useful character! And so cool! and that scene at the end was amazing! You know the one i mean! Luke was a badass in this film! His sister Leia played by the now late Carrie Fisher returns but not as a Princess but as a General. Well i guess there's not much point calling yourself Princess when there's nothing to be Princess of so this makes sense. Her character is a bit more broken in this, you get the feeling of someone who has seen and experienced far too much for one lifetime, Both this movie's later reveals and Star Wars Bloodline kind of explain why but, she also shows she's the same snarky old Leia we all know and love. Chewbacca, C-3PO and R2-D2 are still as lovely as ever and Han Solo.....Jesus it is good to have the old scoundrel back. He's old, grouchy and probably harboring back problems, but he's still got that crook side to him plus that line where he says The stories about the Force along with the Dark Side and the Jedi are all true?  That shows how far he's come from believing it to be just be a 'hokey religion' I'm sure his character will be pivotal in the rest of this new trilogy....right?

Rey looks to be the big mystery of the series at least concerning parentage plot points. Theories on who her parents are will be the first things you see if you type her name in on the Internet, From theories she is the daughter of Luke, [Which would be too obvious in my opinion] the daughter of Obi-Wan [Which despite being really popular i personally disagree with] and the reincarnation of Anakin Skywalker. [Yes this is a theory...the things people think of nowadays] My personal theory is that maybe her parents were Dark-Side users or Jedi assisting Luke or maybe not actually important, one of those three. Her character is interesting as she initially comes across as the average 'tough girl who don't need no man' type but as the story progresses and establishes her as having no choice but to adopt this persona in order to be able to survive in the environment she resides in but we also see signs of vulnerability in her when we learn she's hanging on to hope of something that is most likely never going to happen not to mention her reaction to possibly being part of something much greater indicates she is not as strong as she might appear and there's a part towards the end that makes her appear a little Dark-Side-ish to me....Which would be an interesting twist actually.

Finn as we worked out from the trailers is a former stormtrooper who runs away from the First Order, only he doesn't want to stop running. He just wants to get as far away from this conflict as humanly possible only to find himself back in the conflict almost immediately afterwards. Granted it's his choice every time, Seriously, the guy escapes the First Order and says he just wants to run away but one of the first things he does is try to run to someone's aid when they are being attacked. Now, granted Rey was able to get out of the situation easily but it does show a lot about his character and he definitely comes across as someone who's desire to help ultimately outweighs his desire to run and be afraid of it all. Now his connection to the Stormtroopers is interesting as we've never had a main character that is a Stormtrooper before, This could lead to some interesting plot points in the next two films maybe he'll face off against Captain Phasma or an old stormtrooper comrade i don't know but it's going to be helluva lot of fun finding out.

The main villain, Kylo Ren is a Vader wannabe. I'm not just saying that because he's the replacement for Vader because the guy literally wants to be Vader the movie even says so! There's a reason in particular as to why he's so obsessed with Vader as well as a connection to the original heroes but for those who don't know it yet i won't give it away. I think he's being sort of set up to be a tragic villain, As you watch the film you get the feeling that he knows he's never going to be like Vader, He tried to look cool with his special lightsaber and his mask made to mimic Vader but it never really sinks in that way he just seems more angry and desperate than Vader and while i won't give anything away this longing ultimately drives him to do...something.

Poe Dameron....Am i allowed to marry a fictional character? This character has charm, humor, manners, dashing good looks, morality and he's the owner of BB-8! How much more attractive is this guy! And i love just how he and Finn have an instant connection, Just love how quickly they become friends. I just want more Poe in the next flick Rian Johnson! OK?! GIVE US MORE POE DAMERON !! Also i want my own BB-8. Now. I'm practically the only one who didn't get one for Christmas ....

Then there's the leader of the Stormtroopers, Captain Phasma played by Gwendoline Christie....Why was she even there? I mean her armor is cool and she and Finn could have interesting conflict but...why do we have to wait?

General Hux played by Domhall Gleeson [Cause he's in everything nowadays] does come across as the new trilogy's Tarkin but he's decent on his own, apparently he's the son of a General of the original Empire so actually grew up believing the Empire is the good side. And the rivalry between him and Kylo is kind of cute in the way you know it's pathetic.

Maz Kanata was an ok character despite that her role was basically exposition and it's nice to meet other friends of Han and Chewie [Or in Chewie's case maybe more :)] But why does she have to reveal important plot points if she's only in a small portion of the film.

Snoke i won't say much about except he appears to be the true villain of this new trilogy and is the master of Kylo Ren. Who he is?, Why is he doing this? and how did he convince Kylo to be his apprentice? We'll find out. In a year. Hopefully. [For the love of The Force don't make us wait until IX...]

Highlights of the film include the special effects which granted we knew would be fantastic,[Especially compared to certain OTHER films that came out that year-FANT4STIC!] but they really do work and make it feel new while still retaining the old feel of Star Wars. The score is lovely, composed by John Williams yet again but not as good as other Star Wars scores, but still really impressive though especially Rey's Theme. [Btw am i the only one who noticed that March Of The Resistance is basically just The Imperial March for the Resistance?] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=65As1V0vQDM

As i’ve stated before the characters are great and there are some really great actors cast plus a couple of cool cameos too such as Daniel Craig and Ewan McGregor. [the latter is an uncredited voice cameo but he’s in there] The fight sequences are well-done and choreographed well, Not overdone like the prequels or under-done? like the originals, They don’t just tap their lightsabers at each other or pause during battle to twirl their lightsabers around for a moment. It’s raw, It’s fierce, It feels like the characters are actually in a fight for their life rather than a flashy duel that we know the ending to. There’s also a really great atmosphere to the movie, You get that feeling right from the teasers with that giant shot in the desert with the crashed Star Destroyer and that feeling holds within the movie, There’s a really great scene where we just get a good look at Rey’s life on Jakku, Just a day of her working and trading what she does for a small portion of food, There’s dialogue in the scene but Rey herself doesn’t say anything, she just quietly gets on with it but it sort of works in a way. And that flashback scene is mind-boggling, I won’t say what happens because that would be a spoiler but it just makes me want to shake Rey and the Knights of Ren and scream ‘WHAT ARE YOU????!!!!!.

The movie of course does have its flaws and those mainly concern the story. A lot of people say it is too derivative of A New Hope and i would be lying if i didn't say i couldn’t see that however, i feel there not as numerous as other people make it out to be. There are a few obvious ones such as the hero on a desert planet, the droid with a map, the cantina and most obviously Starkiler Base. [Nice nod to The Force Unleashed though] Personally while noticeable similarities, they are not really as consistent throughout the movie as some people say it is. Plus the hero from the desert planet storyline....it’s not just from A New Hope, I know people don’t like to remember The Phantom Menace but it still counts!. Also there’s a couple of plotholes in the movie that they really just kind of skim over when brought up [TELL US HOW YOU FOUND THE LIGHTSABER YOU-!] and there were characters that needed to be fleshed out more [cough PHASMA! cough] but other than that.i don’t think there are any other major problems...

So i really enjoy this film. In the Top 3 of the Star Wars films easily. It has Good Direction, Fantastic Visual Effects, Lovely Music, Great new characters, Good Humor, Well-written dialogue, [Take notes Lucas!] a Decent Story and a Wonderful atmosphere. And a new era in the Star Wars universe has just begun,

Final Verdict: 9 out of 10. Buy on Blu-Ray.

Critic’s Note: Should i do a spoiler review of The Force Awakens? Should i put the other Star Wars Films and Clone Wars episodes on my list? let me know.