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2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread (Voting begins!)
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SagaFanficAwards
Title: Fanfiction Awards Sock: The Saga
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Date Posted:
6/24 1:27pm
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RE: 2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/3 8:40pm (2 edits total)
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Best Non-Human cont'd
Cheedak's Last Hunt
Reeto brightened visibly. “You’re the best, Dad.”
Cheedak smiled.
“I bet you could out-hunt any other Rodian that ever lived,” Reeto added.
Cheedak frowned, “Reeto…”
“I’ll bet you are better than Spadeet!” Spadeet was a hunter from thousands of years ago that grew into a series of fables to teach young Rodians how to hunt, and how to avoid pitfalls many hunters of the day stumbled upon.
“None of that, Reeto. I’m glad you think highly of my abilities, but there are Rodians with a dozen Atiang’s out there. I only have one. I’ll have no more of this crazy talk. Focus on the hunt. This isn’t like one of your Spadeet stories. This is a real hunt. Cheedak sighed, if his son romanticized the hunt any more, he’d end up going off to join the blasted Rodian Dramatic Acting Troupe or some other such foolishness. “Keep your mind focused on the present.”
“Yes, father.”
Cheedak took his arm off his son, and took his own advice, taking care to look after the trail they were following. The planet really was beautiful. The Wroshyr trees were tall and strong, dripping with Kshyy vines. All manners of wild wasaka berries and blossoming kolvissh were in plain view. Wildlife was everywhere. To Cheedak it felt like a heightened version of Rodia’s own jungles, where a Ghest could come from out of no where and destroy an entire village, had the Rodian’s not hunted the Ghest to extinction so long ago. But now the entire galaxy was a hunting ground for the Rodians.
Cheedak wasn’t quite sure what he noticed first, the pile of Trakkrrrn bones or the trail running up a particularly large Wroshyr tree, but he quickly put his hand in front of Reeto, who was so intent on the trail he nearly fell over when he bumped into it.
“What’s wrong?” Reeto inquired, changing his focus to his father’s grizzled face. Cheedak was scanning the trees methodically, his arm still barring his son’s passage.
“Hush, Reeto,” Cheedak hissed quietly, bringing his other suction tipped finger to his snout. “We are in his lair.”
Reeto breathed in so sharply Cheedak thought the boy might pass out. The boy’s eyes went large and frantic. The boy was afraid, and if Cheedak didn’t do something soon, he’d have very good reason to be.
“Reeto, son. Back away slowly with me,” Cheedak whispered. “Do not make any sudden moves, just back slowly toward the knot we just passed,” Cheedak instructed as they slowly stepped backward. The pair slowly crouched behind the gnarled growth, scanning the tree branches above them for a sign of the shadow keeper. If they were lucky, the creeper was sleeping and didn’t know they had entered his lair. If they were unlucky, he should be dropping down on them from above any moment now.
“Dad! I-“ Reeto started far too loudly.
“Quietly!” Cheedak hissed.
“Dad,” Reeto repeated in a whisper. “I see him!”
Cheedak removed his Rodian Longrifle, his most prized possession, from off his shoulder. The blaster rifle’s grip was hand carved out of a local wood from Rodia, and had been in his family for seven generations. Every Goa-Ato Atiang award won by the last seven generations of his family were won with the weapon, and the grip had an etching telling the story of each of the three awards won by Cheedak, his great grandfather, and his great great great grandfather. One day the rifle would belong to Reeto.
“Where is he, son?” Cheedak asked as he checked the power pack and the blaster gas to make certain the weapon was in working order.
“Bearing zero-four-five, elevation zero-four-five negs,” Reeto stated as he indicated the direction with a chop of his hand. “Range is about one hundred twenty meters.”
Cheedak squinted, blaster bolts that kid had good eyes. “Well done, son. You spotted it, so you get to kill it.” Cheedak said as he handed over the prized Rodian Longrifle. “Go on, Reeto. You can use my rifle.”
Reeto grasped the rifle as though it were the Elder Chazik Scroll, containing the details of the first recorded Ghest hunt in Rodian history. Meanwhile, Cheedak removed his BlasTech DT-12 from its holster, checking the safety and the power and gas levels. He checked behind and above them once before returning his attention to his son.
“Dad, I’ve never fired this one before.” Reeto said tentatively.
“That’s ok, just take your time and line the shot up like this,” Cheedak set up a small holorecorder before leaning over his son and pressing the butt of the rifle tighter into his shoulder. “The longrifle is an older technology, so it can kick your shoulder a lot if you don’t tuck it in tightly.” Cheedak gazed on his son approvingly, “That’s it, now look through the scope and line up your shot.” Reeto adjusted the barrel for a few moments, trying to get a bead on the Shadow Keeper.
http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28280622/p1/
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SagaFanficAwards
Title: Fanfiction Awards Sock: The Saga
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Date Posted:
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Subject:
RE: 2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/7 12:49pm (5 edits total)
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Best Villain
Palpatine in The Consort by AnakinsFavorite
Summary: In this story, the OC Aria has been forced into an arranged marriage with Lord Vader. After a medic suggesting that she get a change of scenery to help her health, Aria finds herself on Coruscant with her husband… meeting the Emperor.
Suddenly, the most overwhelming stench filled her nose, and Aria had to resist the urge to vomit. She had never smelt something so… dead. Indeed, it smelled as if there were a dead body rotting somewhere- and, after thinking about it, the young mother realized that there actually could be a body there…
Vader came to a stop before the throne, so she stumbled to stand still beside him. Still, she refused to look up at the man that had destroyed most of the Galaxy. When he spoke, however, pure dread ran up and down her spine…
“Lord Vader, it is time you returned to Courscant,” the haunt hissed, his voice sounding just as dead as the corpse that was his body was.
“Yes, my Master.”
“And… you brought a friend.”
The urge was maddening, but Aria refused to look up at Sidious. Her large eyes, determined to remain focused on the patterned tile, roved about most uneasily in their sockets. Do not look at him… do not look at him…
“What happened to Lady Myah?” the deadened voice asked.
“She met an… unfortunate fate,” Vader replied, his voice neutral and devoid of emotion.
“That is too bad,” the Emperor said in a tone that conveyed that he wasn’t all sorry. “I am glad to see, however,” the monster said in a quieter tone, “that you haven’t allowed yourself to forget your responsibilities in the light of her death.”
This was a brutal sting to Vader, and he became even more rigid than before but did not say anything.
“So, who is this?”
“This is Lady Vader,” the Sith Lord replied easily. With his arm, he led Aria closer to the Emperor so that she could be inspected. In a barely audible voice, he whispered, “Show him some respect or you’ll regret it.”
Eyes widening, the young woman dropped into a smooth curtsey though her legs were buckling and she felt like she was going to faint. Unable to resist, Aria slowly lifted her eyes… and nearly screamed at what she saw.
It wasn’t that the young woman hadn’t seen the Galaxy’s ruler before, but looking into those infernal eyes made her feel as if she’d died and was subjected to unending torment. Every suffering, every thing she’d ever done wrong crashed into her, knocking the wind out of her.
Those red eyes penetrated her as Sidious scrutinized every part of her being, making her feel naked. He looked past her body and into her soul, grasping and looking…
“I see that your time has been well spent…” the Emperor hissed, closing his eyes and ending the torment. “She is with child.”
Much to her horror, Vader responded to this by placing one of his large hands over her womb. “It is my duty to provide an heir to this great Empire.”
At that moment, Aria would have surely become sick, but the foreignness of Vader’s touch had left her startled. For as much as he’d desired to conceive a child, the man had shown very little interest in the babe and had not so much as brought it up since their last encounter. To have him suddenly claim the child as his was startling. She was not sure whether to find the touch reassuring… or disturbing.
“It is your duty to provide a male heir, Lord Vader.”
This time, Aria wasn’t the only one to start- Vader’s façade of coolness momentarily dropped, leaving a contorted look on his face. What it meant, she knew not, but the way he gripped her arm spoke volumes.
“It shall be a son,” he said, his voice firm and unwavering.
“And, if it is not… do not bother in telling me the child lives.”
Swallowing nervously, Aria wished for nothing more than to get out of his grasp. While she had feared for the baby if it was indeed female, her husband had never threatened to kill the child.
“Yes, my Master,” he replied mechanically.
The Emperor, quite satisfied, leaned back against his throne. “When the time comes, my apprentice, you shall do as you feel necessary. For now, I wish to speak with you, alone.”
So great had been the young woman’s fright that she had not noticed that she was dismissed until Vader hissed at her to leave. Even more disconcerting was the fact that the rest of the court filed out behind her.
This did not look promising…
Xanatos in No Legacy So Rich by Magier
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“They are about to learn a lesson about picking a fight with the wrong person.”
The tone of his voice chilled her to her bones. As he stepped away from her hiding spot, she saw him pull a silver cylinder from his coat right before the sky around him erupted in blaster fire. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he really knew what he was doing. The whine of blaster fire whizzing through the sky continued, but she also heard something different. It was a low hum, maybe more shrill and screeching at times. She risked peeking.
Xanatos held a red beam of light in his hand. The glow bathed him in crimson as he moved with the elegant steps of a dancer. She sat transfixed as blaster bolts seemed to near and then flee from him, or rather the crimson arc that spun around him. His rage darkened eyes were focused, and he moved with the stealth of a predator, like an animal driven by instinct, seeming to know where each shot was before it came.
One man fell to his death from the roof in a cry of agony. The second was silent, already lifeless as he hit the ground. Those remaining converged on Xanatos. A raised hand sent one flying though the air. The sickening crack and thud as the assailant’s body hit the wall indicated he wouldn’t get up again. Another lunged forward and was impaled, his body nearly severed in half as it fell from the steaming blade. If her stomach hadn’t already been empty, Mia probably would have vomited at the sight of entrails and blood spilt on the blanket of grass. The two remaining seemed to come to their senses and turned to run. They were suddenly frozen in place like statues.
“Who sent you?” Xanatos demanded coldly, as he walked between them, his hand outstretched.
“I … I don’t know,” one said, his voice quivering with tremendous fear.
“I was just given a secondhand order,” the other pleaded.
Xanatos studied the second before closing his fist. The man’s eyes widened before he dropped to his knees, clutching at his throat. He tried to beg and plead, but no sound came out, only gurgling noises as he writhed on the ground. A blue tone claimed his skin before his body finally fell limp, fear still captured in his lifeless eyes.
“Take that as a warning.” Xanatos allowed the one remaining assailant to fall to the ground. “I suggest you talk.”
“I don’t know …”
“Don’t lie to me!” Xanatos yelled, lips pulling back from his teeth as fire flashed in his eyes. Mia had never before seen him this angry. It changed him. It was as though she barely knew the man standing there.
She watched as Xanatos drove the light sword into the man’s shoulder, cutting through body armor with ease. The man let out a shrill cry of pain.
“You’re just going to kill me!”
“Probably.” Xanatos wiggled the hilt of the blade, widening the wound. Mia shuddered as the assailant shrieked. “The question is how much pain I can cause before you die. That all depends on how pleased I am with your answers.”
“Go to hell!”
Xanatos quickly withdrew the blade before sinking it into the other shoulder. “A name is all I need.”
As the silence stretched on, Xanatos began to drag his blade slowly through flesh. Mia cupped hands over her ears, trying to drown out the cries for mercy.
“Gaden! His name was Rilk Gaden. I was to kill you and bring the woman to a rendezvous point at the mines just outside Moyc.”
One final swing of the blade ended the man’s wretched existence, and then the blade vanished into darkness. Mia couldn’t see Xanatos anymore, but heard his voice as he walked toward her.
“Soren, do you copy. Holn is dead. I need a speeder to pick us up at the restaurant and take us to the hangar.”
He extended a blood splattered hand toward her as he closed off the transmission. She took it, trying not to tremble at the rage that still clouded his eyes. His said nothing, even after Soren arrived. The trip to the hangar was made in equal silence, Xanatos’ face cut into a distant, emotionless mask.
Xanatos boarded their vessel first, making a complete sweep. When he was satisfied it was safe, he finally spoke to Soren. “Leave now. Take Mia back to Telos.”
“Aren’t you coming?” she asked.
“I have some unfinished business with Rilk Gaden,” Xanatos said, with eerie coldness. He stroked her face gently before resting a hand on her abdomen. “But first, I need to know that you are both safe."
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SagaFanficAwards
Title: Fanfiction Awards Sock: The Saga
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Date Posted:
6/24 1:28pm
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RE: 2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/2 12:07pm (6 edits total)
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Best Ensemble
Betrayal by dianethx
Staring out into the night, Obi-Wan shook his head, saying sharply, "I'm fine."
For another long moment, there was silence. Obi-Wan didn't need to see to know that Atel and Qui-Gon were sharing a look of exasperation mixed with concern for him. The Force was stained with it, but more than that, he could feel approaching danger. Something was going to be demanded of him, something he wasn't sure he could handle it without shattering. He desperately needed time to meditate, to come to grips with his own darkness, to find the Light again. But it would seem that time was running out.
He heard Sle'fey's sly smooth voice. "I am relieved to see that both of you survived Tharten's attack. Your sacrifice will be honored among the Jedi, especially yours, Master Jinn."
Still out of control, still furious, still in core-deep need of regaining his center, Obi-Wan turned back to glare vibroshivs at the Councilor. "What do you want, Sle'fey? All this talk of honor and sacrifice is a cover for something. What is it?"
Wringing his paws, Sle'fey said, "You must believe me. I never wanted to use you this way but Master Tharten was so focused on you that it was easier to.... "
"You never stop, do you? Never stop trying to manipulate everyone into doing what you want and you sit there, letting others do your dirty work and you remain pure and oh so noble." Obi-Wan stopped, his throat choked with memories.
From out of the corner of his eye, he could see Qui-Gon and Atel exchanging worried looks but he ignored them as Master Xacor stepped forward, "Knight Kenobi, he is telling you the truth. We had thought to bring you into our circle when this first started but felt it would be too dangerous to do so. You would have acted differently around Tharten. We..."
"And you are no different, Xacor, following him around like a boar-wolf, using people to your own ends. How many have died because of you both? How many?" Obi-Wan remembered Bant's young face and the faces of all the others who were sacrificed over the years - hundreds of them. And for what, political gain? The battle between good and evil? He wasn't sure any more; he wasn't sure of anything.
"Knight Kenobi..." Sle'fey was speaking again, all soft tones and exploitation. "Obi-Wan, you must listen to me."
If looks could kill, the Bothan would have been a red pool of blood and bones. Instead, with all the loathing he could muster, Obi-Wan spat out, "You are a lying, corrupt rsshak slime. I will never believe you again."
Sle'fey nodded, seeming to accept the rebuke. "I deserve your contempt for all I've done to you, but nevertheless we need your help, yours and Master Jinn's."
When Obi-Wan sent him another glare, the Bothan hesitated, glancing at Xacor who just shook his head. It looked like the two of them were contrite. Whether that was truth or more manipulation remained to be seen. Sle'fey continued, "Darth Sidious is bound to be suspicious by now. The Temple is in lock-down, although we have continued to act normally once outside the Temple to avoid drawing attention."
"And you want our help." Obi-Wan's voice was cold enough to freeze most of Coruscant.
Master Xacor spoke up, "Sidious targeted Master Jinn for some reason. Tharten was very clear on that. If we don't do something, he's likely to try again." It sounded all so reasonable but Obi-Wan couldn't believe them. He didn't dare.
"This time we had some information as to who was working for him, Tharten and her followers. Next time we may not be so lucky," Sle'fey pointed out.
"You are really quite a manipulative, little..."
Qui-Gon interrupted, "Padawan, he's right. Sera Tharten said that I'd angered Sidious. That he wanted me dead." Shaking his head, he said thoughtfully, "The timing was odd, though. I would have been more vulnerable once outside the Temple and yet she tried to kill me while the Council was in session."
Sle'fey said, "He may have his own timetable. I know that Palpatine was scheduled to go on a fact-finding mission in the Outer Rim area today but he canceled it at the last minute. Rumors were flying that he was going to meet with Count Dooku, the Separatist leader, maybe broker a treaty with him. The Count's power has been rising in the area and there have been rumblings of war between the worlds aligned with Dooku and the Republic."
Obi-Wan refused to listen. "You want something. You always do and it's everyone else who has to pay the price." The price was too high, even now and yet all he could say was, "What do you want, Master?"
What the Heart Hides by Valairy_Scot
Qui-Gon’s legacy to the galaxy; sometimes it was astonishing how much of his master Obi-Wan saw in his padawan. “As I am, and always will be, he would be proud of you, Anakin. You are much like he was – always questioning, following the Force where it led without regard to the dictates of the, er, Council – though I sometimes think you drag the Force along with you rather than following its lead.”
The affection in his voice softened the words from a reproof to a good-natured dig; Anakin grinned and accepted it with good humor.
“Imagine: two rebels in the Order. At least Qui-Gon restrained his independent streak until he was knighted and his own man.” Ki’s comment was both amused and slightly scolding.
“Master Qui-Gon was a wise Jedi,” Anakin said, as always quick to defend the man who had freed him to pursue his dreams. “He was never afraid to do what he thought he should. To be considered a maverick like him is a compliment and he is my role model as to what a Jedi should be.”
He glanced at Obi-Wan, flushing slightly as if suddenly remembering his presence.
“I’m sorry, Master.”
“No, Anakin, never be afraid to speak the truth,” Obi-Wan said quietly. The truth might sting, but lies did the real harm. Lies – lies hurt, and never illuminated.
His padawan had only finally voiced what Obi-Wan thought Anakin had long thought. He had always known, for Anakin’s protests against his master’s actions or lack of had always pointed out in some way Obi-Wan’s caution when Qui-Gon would have plunged ahead.
He made sure to catch Anakin’s eyes, for the young man had looked away as if not wanting to see the hurt in his master’s eyes, hurt that Obi-Wan had been careful not to show and quick to release. In some ways, he was filled with a quiet pride that exceeded that fleeting moment when he first understood Anakin’s words, for Qui-Gon Jinn was a worthy role model for Anakin, just as he had been for his own padawan.
“He was mine, too. I was once almost as rebellious and reckless as he, and it caused me much grief – as well as others - so I learned to be cautious as a result. I’m sure Master Mundi here remembers how the Order and I nearly – parted ways permanently.”
“Well, yes, the Council was initially quite disappointed in your choice to leave, even if it was for a good cause,” Ki started slowly, not sure how much Obi-Wan wanted revealed, or if he had even spoken of those days to his padawan.
“To save others, to help bring peace to a troubled planet…,” Obi-Wan murmured. “I thought I was following the Force, when it was my heart alone.” The old ache awoke: Ceresi. Dead in the cause of peace; he had given a piece of his thirteen-year-old heart to her and left it behind with her body when he sought to return to the Jedi, humbled, wiser and sadder.
Bandomeer, Melida/Daan, Naboo – each place had shaped him, each had changed him. Jabiim, he supposed, would be another place, another planet, to join that list.
Yet out of such places of sorrow and grief had eventually come joy and satisfaction in equal measure – Qui-Gon Jinn had accepted him as his padawan; he had taken Anakin Skywalker as his padawan in turn. He had found self-knowledge on Melida/Daan. What, he wondered, would Jabiim gift him with to counter the pain that was all he had of it now?
“Your impulsiveness joined with your compassion tended to overrule your common sense.” Ki’s words were gentle now, in sharp contrast to the words spoken then. “We doubted your suitability to be a knight, a doubt that you put to rest quite soon. It became quite apparent that the very qualities that make you such a credit to the Order are what led to your decision to leave – and to return.”
Obi-Wan nodded, grateful that Ki didn’t elaborate. “You see, Anakin, life takes its own twists and turns and all we can do is to remain flexible and follow the Force’s will. What made Qui-Gon a ‘maverick’ was his interpreting the Force’s will differently than the rest of the Order combined and not hesitating on standing his ground. When you have achieved full control of yourself and proven yourself ready to be knighted - that is when you have my permission to indulge your maverick streak. Until then I shall continue my inadequate attempts to restrain you.”
“I do respect and honor you, Master,” Anakin seemed to want that clearly understood; he was leaning forward to emphasize his words, his gaze firmly affixed on his mentor.
This Time Around by Idrelle_Miocovani
Jaina smiled bleakly. “Anakin, I am not lying when I said that the Sith Lord can control time. Time travel is possible, and you’ve already met three time travelers.”
Anakin stared at her. His expression became incredulous as revelation dawned on him. “Oh, you have got to be kidding –”
“I’m not.”
He glanced at Kyp. “Durron?”
“Sorry,” he said.
“Anakin,” Padmé murmured, “what’s going on?”
Anakin didn’t answer her. “Who’s the third one, then?” he exclaimed.
“Haven’t you guessed?” Jaina said.
“No!” Anakin snapped impudently, folding his arms.
“Would you be surprised if I said that Palpatine is the third time traveler?” Jaina asked.
“What?!” Anakin passed a hand across his face. “Are you trying to tell me that… no. No, no, no… Seriously?” He frowned. “Wait.” He turned to Kyp. “You told me that you’d fought Palpatine before. He’s from your time, isn’t he? You brought him here, or something!”
“Palpatine is from your timeframe,” Jaina said coldly. “He wasn’t supposed to be in ours.”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Anakin held up a hand. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that Palpatine is from here, but he shows up in your time and you follow him back here to do… get revenge or something along the lines of that?”
Jaina’s eyes flattened. She glanced at Kyp.
“Something like that, yeah,” she said.
Anakin started to laugh. “You’re mad!” he shouted. “Absolutely mad!”
“But you’re still listening,” Jaina said. “You’re trying to make sense of it.”
Anakin fell silent mid-laugh. He frowned at her. “It’s just not possible. I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”
“Anakin, I can vouch for them,” Obi-Wan said.
Anakin turned to him. “Not you too!” he exclaimed. “Already we have Master Yoda trying to tell us that time travel is real. Don’t do this to me, Obi-Wan. Please.”
“Anakin, it’s the truth!” Obi-Wan said. “None of us are lying to you.”
“But time travel is impossible.” Anakin looked at Padmé and Bail, his expression pleading for help. “Please, Padmé – Bail. You can’t believe any of this, right?”
Bail had been listening to the conversation silently, his expression unreadable. “This is the domain of the Jedi,” he said. “I can’t even begin to understand it.”
“Padmé,” Anakin implored, but his expression fell at the look on her face.
Padmé’s hands were pressed tightly together around the carved japor snippet that hung from a chain around her neck. Her expression was pensive. “Anakin,” she began.
“Oh, no,” Anakin groaned. “Not you too.”
Padmé sighed and took his hand with hers. “Do you remember what you told me right after you came back from that fiasco onboard the Invisible Hand?” she asked. “You told me about Jaina and Kyp. You couldn’t understand how they could act like Jedi, but not seem like Jedi. You were completely suspicious of them, yet you had no proof. Here’s your proof. As much as my mind would like to disbelieve them, time travel gives an explanation for everything they are. Look at them. You’ve fought beside them. You know their talents, skills that could only possibly be achieved by studying with Jedi Masters. And there’s more. There’s their knowledge.” She turned and looked directly at Jaina. “You’re from the future, aren’t you? That’s how you knew that I am pregnant with twins.” She caught eyes with Kyp. “That’s how you knew that Anakin and I were married before anyone else had even begun to guess.”
Jaina pressed a hand to her mouth as she tried not to smile. Padmé’s moment of deduction made her think of her own mother. If Leia could have ever known how much she was like Padmé…
“Leave it to you, Senator, to figure it out,” Obi-Wan commented mildly.
“Thank you, Obi-Wan,” Padmé said. “Though I don’t think I need a round of applause.”
Anakin was staring dumbfounded at Jaina. “You’re from the future?” he said weakly.
“Yes,” she answered simply.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Anakin asked.
“Would you have believed us?” Kyp said.
“Of course not!” Anakin answered rapidly. “The idea is absurd, I would have—oh.”
Kyp nodded pointedly. “Exactly.”
“Well, this is truly an interesting turn of events,” Bail commented.
“Though interesting, it may be,” Yoda said firmly, “important issues to discuss, we have.”
“How far in the future?” Anakin demanded.
“Fifty years, more or less,” Jaina said, shrugging.
Anakin made a face, obviously attempting to wrap his mind around the idea.
“I believe you’re right, Master Yoda,” Bail said. “Though we’ve established that time travel exists, it is not prominent in our discussion right at this moment. The Galaxy is moving forwards, and Palpatine will be preparing his new government. The Empire is rising.”
“Where am I in fifty years?” Anakin asked.
For the Love of the Queen by JediMasterRev
Author’s Note: On separate missions, but reaching the same place, Anakin, Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan’s apprentice plan to rescue Padmé and then deal with Valkin Ord’s gunship.
The journey to find Padmé was surprisingly quick. Although Anakin could not sense any impending threat, he didn’t like the ease of the situation.
“Seems that the door is magnetically sealed,” Jaden astutely observed.
Anakin knelt down by the access panel. To his amazement, the shield protecting the door was not wired into the ship’s power systems and he didn’t see any indication of security. Without hesitation, he withdrew and ignited his lightsaber.
“Anakin…I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Obi-Wan futilely warned.
Not listening, Anakin stabbed the pointed end into the door panel. A loud explosion followed by streams of sparks preceded the magnetic seal disengaging and the door opening. Anakin fired a grin at Obi-Wan. “You were saying?”
“You are were quite lucky, my friend.”
“I thought you said that there was no such thing as luck?” Anakin smirked before entering inside. His mirth disappeared when he saw Padmé lying prone and secured by neural disruptors. The anger within spiked. Anakin immediately called upon the Force to grasp onto each inhibitor, yanking them off of her.
“Anakin!” Padmé called out happily.
He scooped her into his arms. They kissed briefly as he helped her up. “Are you alright?”
Rubbing her wrists, Padmé painfully smiled. “I will be.” Turning towards Obi-Wan and his apprentice, she smiled happily. “Why am I not surprised to see you here as well, Master Kenobi.”
Obi-Wan chuckled. “The three of us do seem to have a knack for finding trouble.”
“Indeed,” Padmé acknowledged. “What is the situation?”
“The entire Navy is waiting for us at the exit of the next jump point,” Anakin informed her. “We will make our last stand there while Ord is still out of firing range.”
Padmé continued to rub her wrists. “The good news is that he won’t fire on Naboo right away.”
“That does give us a bit of an advantage,” indicated Obi-Wan. “If the Naboo fleet can slow him down, we can do our best to disable the ship.”
“Agreed,” Anakin approved. “I am concerned that we have remained unnoticed.”
Obi-Wan released a deep breath. “True. Whatever Ord’s plans are for us, we must be ready.”
“I think if we employ a bit of misdirection,” Anakin shared, flashing them a cryptic grin. “It would keep our host confused long enough for our plan to work.”
“What are you talking about?” Jaden asked annoyed.
“Let’s just say that Ord expects us to act towards a single goal,”
“True,” Obi-Wan agreed. “But how are we going to misdirect our host?”
“We’ll hide Padmé on my ship. I sense that he would tear his ship apart to find her.” Anakin paused to notice Padmé wordlessly agree. “Ord will never find you and he would be too distracted to notice us.”
“What about me?” Jaden asked plaintively.
Anakin exchanged glances with Obi-Wan. “You will have the most important job. You must see the Queen to the safety of the ship.”
“But I could be of help should you confront Ord…especially if he’s a Sith Lord.”
Obi-Wan patted his shoulder. “I understand your zeal, Padawan. However, Anakin is right. If Ord is to be properly distracted by searching for Queen Amidala, we have to make sure that she reaches the ship undetected. Only a Jedi can ensure that,” he encouraged.
Padmé placed her hands on her hips. “I can’t say that I much like the idea of hiding.”
“And I’m not exactly thrilled to have you act as a decoy, my Queen.” Anakin responded thoughtfully. “It is the only way though.”
Padmé contemplated his suggestion. Finally coming to a decision, she yielded. “Let’s get moving then. We don’t have a lot of time.”
Leaving the room, a jolt in the Force was Anakin’s only warning as the sound of blaster fire greeted them around the corner. He leaped forward and wrapped Padmé in his arms to dodge the second volley. Risking a glance up, Anakin saw a man clad in Mandalorian armor, poised to resume fire.
“Get out of here!” Obi-Wan warned.
Without argument, Anakin grabbed Padmé’s hand and raced off in the opposite direction. His mind was reeling, but he forced himself to return his concentration on the moment.
“So much for well laid plans,” Padmé whispered.
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SagaFanficAwards
Title: Fanfiction Awards Sock: The Saga
Registered:
Jun '06
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Date Posted:
6/24 1:28pm
Subject:
RE: 2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/2 12:10pm (6 edits total)
Edited By:
SagaFanficAwards
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Best Author
Valairy_Scot: What the Heart Hides
I still am angry but I no longer hate her. I know better. Forgive me? his mind cast his cry into the Force as he tried to stop trembling, searching in the mirror for the Jedi he had been.
A knock preceded Anakin’s entrance. “Not your size, but clean…” Obi-Wan felt the ripples of distress.
“What did she do to you!” It was an outraged hiss that pulled Obi-Wan back to this moment and yet cast him back into that cell.
“Anakin.” He half-raised a hand to stop his padawan: he couldn’t do this, talk about it, re-live it again.
“What – did – she – do – to you?”
Do? Vibroblades – fists – feet, he remembered them all. Poison –drugs – standing in his own filth and blood. Cuts – gouges – incisions…anything that elicited pain; if it brought screams or moans, so much the better, if it didn’t, only intensifying until it did…..
“Do?” He kept his voice calm as he resumed washing, first one arm, then the other, willing himself not to feel the wash of memories. “Various unpleasant things as you no doubt see.”
The cloth was at his chest now, washing away the feel of her hands with its long nails, the rips in his skin as her blade pressed against it, the bruises from blows that could not be blocked…
…the gentle dance of lightsabers caressing his skin, his skin puckering and reddening as hair sizzled and ignited in brief spurts of flame, where just one infinitesimal miscalculation would flay the skin from his bones.
Vibroblades poking, twisting, sliding between ribs and scarring veins – never actually thrusting into an organ or an artery – no, for Ventress wanted him alive, for some unfathomable reason he didn’t know at the time.
Worse, it had been even worse, when the blades were dull. Sharp blades thrust and cut, sliced easily through skin and muscle. The dull blades, though – they tore as they were thrust in, rasped, and ripped – gaping wounds with ragged edges, bleeding wounds, lingering wounds that resisted healing.
Wounds that oozed with infection
“She tortured you.” An agonized growl.
Pain…sharp…pain…throbbing…pain…curled up in agony except that chained one could no more curl up than resist…
“Yes.” The cloth rubbed harder, the skin first paling then reddening under the touch.
“Tell me.”
The cloth rubbed even harder. “No.” I can’t.
“I want to know just what she did to you, Master!” Anakin was building up to an explosion that could lead anywhere – to his leaving, to track Ventress down, to make her – pay?
“No!” The response was sharp, harsh like his breathing had been, instinctive.
The cloth was squeezed tight in his fist, clenched to his heart, and water trickled through his fingers, trickled down his ribs and wounded flesh: warm, ceaseless, unending ….
Moisture; he could feel it still: of blood dripping, falling, sometimes streaming like an free flowing river… the sour taste of vomit in his throat, his mouth from the hot sharp stabs of cramping inside as intestines coiled in angry rejection of the poison coursing though his veins… tears dampening his cheeks, tears that the man could not restrain but the Jedi could ignore because his tears, like his blood, like his vomit were not of him, but torn from him by others…..
Without realizing it, Obi-Wan whimpered, his fingers clenching and unclenching. He was back in the cell, back in her hands. Hands touching him, hands twisting, hands punching: “no,” he moaned, “no – no.”
Rough hands grabbed him by the shoulders, forced him to twist around and his eyes to focus outwards. Anakin was glaring at him, his fingers curling so tightly into Obi-Wan’s shoulder that he could feel the tips of the nails, crushing almost to the bone… he had thought himself freed from the pain but the torture didn’t end, it just continued, no matter how he bit his tongue, no matter how he screamed…
…and Anakin saw the flash of fear in Obi-Wan’s eyes, the sob that caught in his throat and the involuntary attempt to evade his hands. Aghast, Anakin dropped his hands, the pulse beating in his throat as he stared at his master.
For a moment, Obi-Wan had flinched, actually almost backed away from his padawan as if Anakin was continuing the torture he had thought himself freed from, and now he had turned away from Anakin, stood with head bowed. The Force had been agitated, swirling in frenetic circles during the clash; now, it too had fallen silent.
I’m sorry.
Eternity passed in the space of a heartbeat as two Jedi stood frozen and silent.
“I have no intention of telling you,” Obi-Wan said softly. He swallowed; turned and looked at Anakin, the cloth forgotten in his hands. “Anakin, too much has happened for me to talk about it.”
Knight_Aragorn: A Simple Thing
Beru Lars was a simple woman. She was a sixth-generation child of Tatooine, and stoicism was bred deeply in her bones. She expected only straightforward things, and dreamt undemanding dreams. A husband and children were things she expected from her life, and a small homestead, a living that was enough to keep her head and the heads of her family above the soul-parching sands. A life, a living, survival: one could ask for little more on Tatooine and realistically expect to have their wishes fulfilled.
Beru Lars was a realist.
She was young when she met Owen Lars, and they were young by Tatooine standards when they married. Beru was certain, though, that Owen would be a good husband; he was kind, and gentle, and he loved the moisture farm that he operated with his father, just as he loved her. It wasn’t the wild love of some of the stories that young girls in Anchorhead liked to whisper to one another, ancient tales of sacrifice and lust and despair with few happy endings. Their love wasn’t so dramatic, perhaps, but Beru liked to think that it was passionate in deeper, quieter ways, as far-reaching and long-lasting as the desert itself in every way that mattered.
She had always expected to have children. Owen was a good son to his own father, and would have made a wonderful parent. But then Obi-Wan Kenobi appeared, not long after Owen’s father died. He brought with him a bundle and a story not unlike the ones Beru had heard in her youth: filled with doomed love and tragedy and loss, undercut with the ragged edge of anguish in Kenobi’s eyes. Anakin Skywalker, Owen’s stepbrother only once met, had fallen to the dark side of the Force, a concept as alien and distant as the stars in the Tatooine night sky. Kenobi’s grief was real, though, as was his urgency and desperation. The changes throughout the galaxy were real too, felt as grim ripples that tendrilled out from the Core worlds in the form of stormtroopers and harsh laws.
The child Kenobi carried in his arms, son of Skywalker and grandson of Owen’s stepmother Shmi, needed a safe place to grow: somewhere far from the threat of the Empire and his father.
Beru and Owen took the child, to raise as their nephew.
It was not an easy decision to make.
Raising one child in the harshness of the desert was one thing; raising more than one was impossible, given the limit of their current resources. And young Luke brought immense risk, even as a helpless infant. His presence alone threatened to bring death and worse on their heads at any given moment.
And yet – who else did the child have?
So it was that Beru Lars accepted Luke Skywalker, knowing as she took him into her arms that she was bidding final farewell to any hope of her own children, from her body, born of her and of Owen.
So it was. She let those ghosts go.
Luke was a bright child, full of wonder and curiosity. Beru quickly grew to love him; she had always given her love and trust easily, and this small child, so very alone in the galaxy, was no different. He needed her, and in a way that no one ever would again.
Soon Luke was walking, and not long after that running. It felt sometimes as though time was slipping from Beru’s fingers too quickly; Luke was growing, and as he grew, she knew he drifted further toward an uncertain future.
He was a kind child, though impetuous, and almost recklessly negligent with his own safety. He was also, quite plainly, neither hers nor Owen’s. The sense of other about him was so defined to her that Beru lived in daily fear that one of the marketkeepers in Anchorhead, or a passing farmer’s wife, seeing Luke’s brightness, his quick, restless mind, his always-close dreams, would point and say Not from here! and it would all be for nothing, their sacrifice, her love. She had nightmares, often, of loss.
It hurt to be reminded like that, every day, every time she looked at him, of Luke’s origin. It would have been wonderful to live a happy lie, pretending he was theirs alone, pretending no danger lay over his head by virtue of his parentage. It was impossible. It could not be done. She’d met Luke’s father only briefly, but it was plain that much of Anakin Skywalker had been passed on in his son.
Blood will tell, a painful voice whispered in her mind sometimes as she lay awake through long, cold nights. What did Luke’s blood hold for him?
Would he inherit a great legacy, or pain and darkness?
Idrelle_Miocovani: This Time Around
A/N: from This Time Around. Anakin goes to confront Palpatine instead of joining him in RotS.
“Anakin, you don’t have to do this!” he hissed.
“I have to!” Anakin yelled, trying to propel his voice over the sound of crackling lightsabers.
“The Jedi have corrupted you!” Palpatine shouted angrily. “They want you to kill me!”
“And you want me to join the Dark side!” Anakin yelled back. He thrust forwards viciously with his saber, cutting the edge of Palpatine’s cloak. They were fighting near the window now. “I’ve had enough! From now on I’m going to do as my heart tells me. I’m going to make up my – own – mind!” He accented each of his last three words with furious jabs from his lightsaber. Palpatine ducked and parried just in time. Anakin’s lightsaber collided with the window and shattered it. Shards of transparisteel fell away, showering the window ledge and tumbling towards the ground far below.
They were standing near the window ledge; it was a precarious situation. One wrong move could cause either of them to fall off the edge and plummet down hundreds of stories to their deaths.
“Anakin, I’ve never tried to dictate your actions!”
“LIAR!” Anakin shouted. “You and the Jedi both have tried to control me! You were just better at it! But now I know. I’ve seen. I know what you’re going to do, and YOU’RE GOING TO HURT PADMÉ!”
He was fueled by anger now. Anakin pressed forwards, hardly watching his footing.
“Anakin, I would never hurt her!” Palpatine shouted through the crackling sound of their lightsabers. Thunder boomed.
“LIAR!” Anakin shouted.
“Anakin—”
“You lied!” Anakin spat. “You lied to me! Everything you said was a lie!”
“No, Anakin!” Palpatine’s expression almost – but not quite – unreadable through the flurry of sparks that surrounded them. There seemed to be a certain amount of annoyance mixed with unexplainable pity in his face. However, both emotions were clouded by the large amount of utter loathing that graced the Chancellor’s expression. “The Jedi have twisted your thoughts away from my guidance! You’ve misinterpreted what I meant!”
“The Jedi don’t control my dreams,” Anakin hissed, raising his lightsaber even higher. “No one does!”
“There,” he said, pointing with his lightsaber towards the post where Durron lay on the floor, still recovering from the impact of hitting the wall at high speed. “That Jedi there. What have I told you about him and Solo? They have managed to corrupt your thoughts and turn you against me! It was their plan all along – can’t you see that, Anakin? They are your enemy; that man there is your enemy!”
Anakin glanced in Durron’s direction, his face stony.
“He isn’t the one who has been hiding his true identity from me for more than a decade,” he said, his voice hollow as their sabers connected, hissing and spitting sparks.
Palpatine barked a short laugh. “What has that to do with anything? Does it truly matter than I am a Sith Lord? Should a simple matter of perspective destroy our friendship? He’s the enemy here, Anakin! Kill him before he destroys everything you hold dear!”
“He hasn’t done anything to me. I barely know him.” Anakin disengaged his lightsaber and took a step backwards, his face contorted with pain. He lowered his blade. Wind howled in his ears and rain blew in through the broken window. “You… you are different. I trusted you – and you’ve betrayed me. I’ve seen it and I should have seen it years ago. Everything you’ve been doing in the Senate… you’re going to destroy this Galaxy! And worse…. you are going to kill Padmé.” His voice was barely audible.
“Ah…” the Chancellor’s voice was no more than a hiss. “Of course.” Palpatine lowered his own saber, his expression cool. “If you kill me,” he said slowly, “there will be no one with the power and the knowledge to save her. Even you cannot prevent death.”
“Why should I trust you?” Anakin roared, anger now the predominant emotion. “You lied! There’s nothing I can do to save her! All I can do now is to stop you before you kill her yourself!” He raised his saber again and slashed down vehemently, but the force of the blow caused him to slip on pieces of broken transparisteel and he slipped, falling down. Anakin winced as he felt the shards cut into his hands and arms. His head hit the ground with a sickening thud and his vision blurred. With a hiss, Palpatine knocked the lightsaber from Anakin’s grasp and thrust his own lightsaber under the defenseless Jedi’s chin.
“You foolish boy,” he said. “You could have done so much, Anakin, but even the greatest fall prey to foolishness.”
“So kill me,” Anakin snapped. “If I’m such an idiot, kill me!”
JediMasterRev: For the Love of the Queen
Author’s Note: Anakin new teacher, the Jedi Exile Ilianya Tro has taken him to Dathomir to learn from a coven of Force witches. He has made a startling discovery about himself and is about to receive a visitor.
Sleep was an effort in futility.
Anakin wondered to the top of a nearby cliff to watch the Dathomiran sunrise. He had spent the last several nights much the same way, as he didn’t want to keep his hosts up with his incessant tossing and turning. Besides, he needed the time alone to sort out his thoughts.
He had much to contemplate.
Everything that had been revealed to him during the challenge remained forefront in his thoughts. To his surprise, neither General Tro nor the coven’s elders had spoken to him since that night at the gateway. Also, he had expected his visions to return, but then again, dreams required sleep, which he hadn’t done much of. What did it truly mean that his essence was of the Force? Was he indestructible? What plagued him most was how the Jedi were also responsible for the imbalance in the Force?
Why hadn’t anybody told him any of this sooner?
Anakin sighed deeply as he dropped his hands to the ground in defeat. The thing he wished for most was for someone to just tell him what in the blazes was happening.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” called out the Force.
Anakin swung his head to see her sitting placidly atop a large boulder. Rising to his feet, he asked. “Where have you been? I’ve had questions.”
“Well, it is a rather large universe, Anakin. Even I get busy from time to time.”
He shrugged, returning his focus to the horizon. Meanwhile, the Force moved to his side. “I’m sorry, my child. I should have considered how difficult this would be for you.”
“Nobody is telling me anything,” Anakin vented in frustration. “Least of all General Tro.”
The Force dipped her head. “Ilianya Tro has other things occupying her thoughts these days. Besides, I instructed her and the others not to say anything to you until we spoke.”
Knowing that there would be no better time than the present, Anakin asked her. “Who is the Sith Master and where can I find him?”
The Force raised her blonde eyebrows at him. “And what makes you think that you are ready to confront him?”
“You said it yourself,” Anakin pointed out. “Our spirits are one in the same and I thought…”
“That fact alone made you invincible,” the Force observed, peering at him knowingly.
“Honestly, I did.”
“Anakin,” she said softly while placing her hand on his shoulder. “Knowledge is only the beginning wisdom; it is certainly not everything. And there is much more to learn apart from what was revealed the other night. There are many more steps on this journey before you reach your final destination.”
Becoming frustrated, Anakin began to pace. “I don’t understand all the secrecy. It should be an easy task to vanquish one person to restore balance.”
“If balance was that simple…I’d have done it myself long ago,” the Force said wryly. “There are good reasons why everything must be revealed in its proper time.”
“Whatever they might be, I am ready to face them,” Anakin insisted. Much to his surprise, the Force began to gleefully cackle.
“Oh, the arrogance!”
“It is not arrogance,” Anakin insisted, determined to prove himself. “I just feel that I am prepared.”
“Really?” The personified Force responded, her features noticeably darkening. She released a deep sigh, never removing her gaze from his. “Very well. Since it is you, my precious child, I will give you a taste…a preview … of things to come. If you can truly handle it on your own, then perhaps I shall reconsider my stance. But know that will not intercede if you should get into trouble.”
Anakin nodded in agreement. “I will not let anything stand in my way.”
She reflected upon him sorrowfully. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” The Force then disappeared, leaving Anakin alone. In need of company, he made his way down the mountain and towards the village. He opened his awareness to the Force, to see if General Tro was nearby, but he suddenly stopped in place when he felt something terribly wrong.
Vader
Anakin twirled about the meadow to locate the source of the whispering; however, he knew no one was near. And yet, a dark, ominous presence remained at the edge of his awareness. Moving more quickly towards the village, he paused again when he heard what sounded like a machine growing louder.
Vader
“Who are you?” he screamed as he withdrew his lightsaber and swung it wildly.
I am you.
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SagaFanficAwards
Title: Fanfiction Awards Sock: The Saga
Registered:
Jun '06
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Date Posted:
6/24 1:29pm
Subject:
RE: 2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/3 8:27pm (7 edits total)
Edited By:
SagaFanficAwards
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Best New Author
Jedi_Perigrine: The Dead Pirate Sketch
AN: Thanks for the nomination you mysterious person you!
Clad in his dingy Mandalorian armor, Boba Fett dropped the carbonite ensconced Han Solo roughly onto the dusty floor of Jabba’s throne room. Inside his helmet, the bounty hunter rolled his eyes. The mammoth slug was still sleeping on his hover pad despite the almighty crash of stone on stone. Bib Fortuna, the Hutt’s creepy Twi’lek assistant was cowering behind the slimy mountainous body of his employer. Various sycophants stood around, nervously.
Boba’s agitation grew further when a microphone enhanced “Ahem!” failed to rouse the sleeper.
“Hello?” There was still no response. “Helllllooooooo!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.
The fat tail twitched, but otherwise, still no change.
“Overgrown, rude, fat tub of…” His voice dropped to swearing mutters that nobody else could hear. Losing all semblance of patience, Fett whipped the pistol out of its holster and blasted one of Jabba’s two monkey lizards.
Finally, the Hutt awoke, giant reddish brown eyes popping open, mouth agape making a startled sound. “Ooooooaaaaaaaahhhh.” He whined.
“I’ve come for the bounty on the pirate Han Solo,” Fett said, magnanimously choosing to ignore Jabba’s earlier rudeness.
“Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh,” the Hutt responded, indicating to his protocol droid that he needed some translation done. He droned on in Huttese.
The obviously abused, well-dented droid faced the infamous bounty hunter. “The illustrious Jabba the ‘utt will gladly pay you the fifty thousand credit bounty for ‘An Solo’s corpse.”
“Solo isn’t dead,” Fett corrected, wanting the much larger bounty offered on the still-living smuggler.
“’E doesn’t look very alive,” the droid noted.
“He’s resting.”
“E’s stone, ‘e’s not restin’!” the construct objected.
“He is so, resting. He’s just encased in carbonite.”
“’Ow can you tell ‘e’s still alive?”
Nonplussed, Boba pointed at the flashing lights and glowing squares. “That
thingy says he’s alive.”
“Do you know what any of that means?” the droid asked, getting angry.
“Well, no.”
“Then ‘ow do you know ‘e’s still alive?”
“Because some random technician told me he was.” Fett made his voice hard in response to the droid’s hostility.
“Can ‘e walk?”
“Well, no, but-“
“Can ‘e talk?”
“Not now, but-“
“Is ‘e, or is ‘e not a stone?”
“He’s in a stone. He’s still perfectly alive.”
“Now look here, I’m not stupid ya’ know. Stone isn’t alive. ‘umans encased in stone are not alive. Can you prove that ‘An Solo is still alive?”
Boba kicked the tall figure, jerking it a little but sending blinding pain into his armored toes. He immediately dropped to the ground and said, “There, see? He just moved!” through clenched teeth.
“No ‘e didn’t. You kicked ‘im!”
Fett, still bent over in agony answered through clenched teeth. “No I didn’t!”
“We all just watched you! You kicked ‘im!”
Boba tried and failed to stand. “I didn’t do anything! He moved on his own!”
The droid pushed the heavy stone onto its flat back. “’E’s dead! Look, ‘e never even twitched when I bowled him over! That’s what I call a dead pirate.”
“No, you knocked him cold! He was just waking up!”
“Wakin’ up?” the droid exclaimed.
“Yeah! You knocked him unconscious,” Fett said.
“I’ve just about ‘eard enough of this. ‘An Solo is dead.”
“He’s not dead! If he weren’t in the carbonite he’d be grabbing for my blaster. Boom! Boom! A lot of you would die and he would definitely get away.”
“’Boom’?! This ‘An Solo couldn’t escape or shoot nuffin if his life depended on it! Which it obviously doesn’t, since ‘e’s already dead!”
“I told you, you’ve knocked him unconscious!”
“Now look here. I’ve seen a lot of dead pirates in my time, and this ‘ere is a dead pirate! ‘E couldn’t so much as bounce ‘is way out of ‘ere if you ran a billion volts through ‘im!”
“No! He’s resting!” Fett objected.
“E’s not resting! ‘E’s a stone. ‘E’s a stiff! ‘E’s shuffled off ‘is mortal coil and gone to meet ‘is maker! ‘Is time is up, ‘is mynock is cooked. ‘E’s ceased to be! If you ‘adn’t propped ‘im up in that stone, ‘e’d be rock ‘ard with a severe case of rigor mortis anyway! ‘E’s kicked the bucket! ‘Is metabolic functions are ‘istory! ‘E’s joined with the Force! ‘E’s an expired pirate.” The tinny droid voice was now screaming at the top of its metallic lungs. “This is an ex-pirate!”
“Then I’ll accept the fifty thousand credits for the bounty, but only if you throw in a dancing girl.”
The droid looked at Jabba expectantly; he simply nodded his overlarge head. One of his multitude of Twi’lek dancers was lead forward.
“’Ave a nice day!”
Fett didn’t even turn around, he just fired his blaster behind him, incinerating the droid. That made him feel a little better.
Dana-Skywalker: What I Like About You
This is how people define me, Wes Janson: Prankster, womanizer, and pilot.
In that order.
I’m insulted.
Mainly, for two reasons – 1) ‘Pilot’ comes first. Always. Pilot’s word of honor. And 2) ‘Gambler’ isn’t on the list.
I’m a sucker for bets, and some corrupted individuals known as my ‘friends’ (such as the likes of Wedge Antilles and Hobbie Klivian) take advantage of that weakness. Not surprisingly, I lost one just yesterday. That brings me to an explanation of my current setting…
…outside Mon Mothma’s window.
-
Hoth is like a frozen hell during the day and night. But it’s especially bad at night. Mon Mothma shivered. If she didn’t want all her troops to catch hypothermia, she might’ve advised the use of heaters, but the ever practical General Dodonna pointed out that they didn’t want to melt the planet beneath their feet.
Following which, the ever obvious Captain Solo pointed out that that would make the Rebellion a ‘lost cause’. “But wait,” he had added suddenly, “It already is!” Of course, his voice was dripping with sarcasm.
Mon Mothma shook her head, wondering what the Princess saw in that man.
Men, she had learned long ago, were incomprehensible creatures she ought to avoid any romantic contact with. It wasn’t hard to do – running a Rebellion left little time for romance.
In the midst of contemplating her somewhat deprived life, Mon Mothma suddenly hears a sound from outside the window.
Picking up her blaster, she cautiously moved toward the frosty, glass panes.
There was a loud knock against the glass.
Startled and frightened, she raises her blaster and shoots.
The glass shattered, and amidst the clanking noise, she heard a loud yelp. Still gripping her blaster tightly, she moves toward the noise. Suddenly, the face of Wes Janson popped up behind the now nonexistent window.
And he has a bloody nose.
Mon Mothma gasped. “Janson!” she sputtered.
Somehow, he miraculously managed to grin despite the blood and snow covering his face. “Mothma,” he greeted in return.
“What are you – must be insane, you – there are such things as doors – you know what – oh Sith!” Mon Mothma seethed. Janson waited patiently for her to form a coherent sentence. “You may not address me as ‘Mothma’!” she finally decided.
“You addressed me as Janson.”
“We are not of equal rank here.”
“Fine. Next time, you address me as the-low-ranked-pilot-Wes and I’ll address you as the more-higher-ranked-lady-than-that-lowly-Janson.”
Mon groaned. “There are as many grammatical errors in that sentence as there are members of the Alliance.”
“So…not too many?” Janson beamed.
Mon Mothma put her head in her hands and groaned again. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. “Why are you even here, Janson?”
“What I like about you…” he hummed a popular song beneath his breath.
“Janson?” Mon Mothma scooted closer to the gape where a window previously existed. She waved a hand in his face. “Janson!”
“Oh, are you speaking to me, more-higher-ranked-lady-than-that-lowly-Janson?” He feigned surprise.
“Yes, I am speaking to you.”
“Well, I came to serenade you.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Serenade. It means I’ll sing a romantic –”
“I know what it means, Janson,” she sighed. “But why?”
“Why what?”
“What do you think?” Mon Mothma looked completely exasperated. “Why do you always pass your medical checkups when you act like you have less than half a brain?” she said sarcastically.
“Oh, well that would be because –”
“I wasn’t serious!”
He stared at her. She stared at him. Finally, he spoke. “Did you just make a joke, then?” he asked incredulously.
Silence.
“Fine,” Janson relented. “I’ll tell you why I must serenade you.”
“Because you have less than half a brain,” she muttered beneath her breath. “Great,” she said aloud.
“I lost a bet.”
Mon Mothma blinks. “Huh.”
“A bet. It’s where you and your…supposed friends make –”
“I know what it means!”
“Great, so can I get started on my song so I can get home sooner and clean myself up?”
Mon Mothma started. She suddenly realized Janson’s entire face was still bloody, and the blood was slowly beginning to freeze due to the cold, Hoth weather. She cringed.
“Despite the fact that you hardly act like a civil being, I suppose it would be rude of me not to invite you inside to clean yourself up.”
Janson blinks. “Are you inviting me in?”
“Yes.”
He grinned, and then unceremoniously hauled himself through the gaping hole and plopped down onto the ground of Mon Mothma’s room. He landed right in the middle of shards of broken glass.
His expression turned to one of pain.
“I was about to tell you there was a door.” Mon Mothma pointed at it.
“I had no idea,” he gasped.
Helen_Taft: Purgatory
Note: As if the comment Obi-Wan had made to Luke about Anakin ‘dying’ when he became Vader was literally true, a newly dead Anakin Skywalker wakes in a strange world—looking like his twenty-three year old self. A redemption story set after ROTJ.
Excerpt
Fast still wasn’t fast enough.
He couldn’t save them all.
But he wanted to.
That desire alone was a revelation; an epiphany.
These people did not have the means to fight back and would be doomed to a fate that was literally worse than death. He was supposed to help. That was what Obi-Wan wanted, he knew it now. He was going to find the protector in himself again or die trying. Necessity would mean it had to be the former.
“Hold on,” Anakin commanded.
Wide, terrified brown eyes in a dirty, wrinkled face locked onto his. “Please, help me…please!”
Gritting his teeth, Anakin pulled, heaving back as hard as he could, dragging the old man back an inch from the water. “Hold onto me. I’ll get you out.”
Squirming forward, he wrapped his arms around the thin, wasted torso to get a better hold. As he did, they were both pulled deeper. The old man slipped to the waist as if yanked by something enormously strong. The sheer power of the force pulling them down into the watery pit was incredible—and terrifying.
The old man started to gibber, “Don’t let it get me…don’t let it get me. Don’t…don’t…”
“I won’t let go. I won’t let it happen,” Anakin promised.
Despite every drop of strength and monumental use of the Force though, the old man slipped further. Thin arms wrapped tighter around Anakin’s shoulders. The man’s shrieks were deafening. “Don’t let it get me, please! Kill me. Kill me!”
“I can’t,” Anakin panted, straining to pull him out. “Fight back, kick out. Help me.”
If he wasn’t careful, Anakin realised, he could kill him just by trying to save him.
The water was up to the old man’s shoulders now. The brown eyes were glazed orbs of pain in a sheet-white face. He started to choke, his throat working spasmodically, gargling, “Kill me. Kill me. Kill me.”
“I can’t. I can’t kill you.” That’s not who I am anymore, or can’t be ever again.. Anakin was pleading now. White-hot agony ripped through his shoulders and upper arms. He used all of his will, all of his power. The strain was threatening to rip him apart too, but he didn’t release his grip.
“Please!” the man whispered as the water lapped up to his chin.
His deactivated lightsaber lay on the mud by his thigh. When Anakin thought about it, it vibrated, but he didn’t call it to hand. He didn’t need to because suddenly it was over. A series of ripples threaded over the surface of the water and without warning the old man went rigid and then, abruptly, all tension was gone.
At first he couldn’t take it in; then brown eyes locked onto his for the last time and with his final breath, the man, said, “Thank you.” Numb, Anakin watched the light of life wink out in the slack, elderly face.
“NO!” The bellow echoed around the filthy gulley, ripe with anger and defeat. It did nothing. The old man was still dead.
Ignoring the protests of his own battered body, Anakin dragged the remains back to the side, gently closed the dead eyes and then slumped, rolling over onto his back on the saturated mud. Laying his right arm over his eyes, he let the horror wash over him while his breath shuddered in his chest and the rain continued to pelt him.
Minutes or possibly hours later, he heard unmistakeable thrumming throb of a speeder or small shuttle. Someone was approaching. He didn’t bother moving. He was too exhausted and numb to even lift his head and see who it was. There was a waft of displaced air and, in his minds eye, he saw a brown cloak being draped over the old man’s body—what was left of it anyway—just before the sad bundle was lifted and borne away.
Anakin was grateful, because it meant he wouldn’t have to see how badly he’d failed when he did finally open his eyes. He didn’t want to feel anything, so he didn’t let himself feel anything. Someone squatted nearby. He got the impression of towering strength and a rangy body covered in fur: a Wookiee. That finally prompted him to jerk open his eyes and check for himself that he wasn’t imagining things.
He wasn’t. Neither was he imagining the cloaked woman standing two metres away and staring at him through the rain.
Her name was a ghost of a whisper passing his lips, “Padmé.”
Quigonjecca: I Am Complete
Vader’s death, told from his own perspective
“Father,” Luke tenderly says, as a tear rolls down his cheek. I faintly smile. Those words I had longed to hear. I had longed to hear them ever since I married Padmé; ever since I found out she was pregnant.
The hope to hear that simple word –father- was nearly squashed when she died. I thought my child—my children had died along with her. But no, they were alive, alive and well, and would carry on the Skywalker family legacy. And now I am complete.
Those were the words my mother said, right before she died in the Tusken Raider camp. She too was only a shell of a being, battered and bruised. Is this how she felt? Lying in her son’s arms—my arms, just as I am lying in Luke’s? Did she feel this same peace of mind? Like all the pieces of the puzzle were suddenly fitting?
“Oh Luke, I’m so proud of you.”
Another tear streaks down his face.
“Do not mourn me, my son.” I say, startled by the sound of my own voice. It is not Vader’s voice—yet it is not Anakin’s either. At least, not how I remember Anakin’s voice. How I wish that Luke had known me before I turned—before I was tainted. His sadness pains me. I wish I could wipe away his tears, but I am too weak. I never thought the galaxy would be sad to lose Darth Vader. But then again, I am no longer Vader. I am Anakin now, and forever I shall be.
“Father no, you can’t die, not now.” A resolute determination crosses my son’s face. Once I had thought I could stop death too… now look at me. Luke will not make my mistakes. So much sacrificed, yet I had not been able to accomplish my feat, not been able accomplish my ultimate goal, to save her.
But she was saved, in a manner of speaking. I saw her in my son—and my daughter. Luke’s unyielding will reminds me so much of her. The way he walks, the way he talks—they are echoes of my Padmé.
And yet, at the same time, I could see myself in Luke—the stubbornness, the blond hair and bright blue eyes. These were once my own, but no more. Now, I am leaving.
Luke is strong in the Force as well—another Skywalker trait.
They called me the chosen one, the one to bring balance to the Force. But I see that they were mistaken now. I was only the tool. Luke, my precious son is the true chosen one. He truly brought—and will continue to bring balance to the Force.
I feel my consciousness slipping. I try to smile once more, try to ease my son’s anguish. At any other moment, I would be desperately trying to pull myself back into reality, but now… Now, I feel the light, beckoning me to come forward. The Force is…light. It is lighter than it has ever been—even before I fell. It is calling me. Luke is becoming harder, and harder to see.
Who is that in the distance? Is that—could it be Obi-Wan? I catch my breath, which is labored and ragged now. Is it, could it be... Yes, it is. It is my Padmé. She is there, and she—she is closer than ever.
“Father! No, you can’t die!”
But the sound is distant. For a moment, the figures fade, and Luke is there before me. He is trying to heal me. His Jedi powers are indeed strong, but I know I am far beyond the land of the living now. I gently push his telepathic connection away. He too realizes that no healing can delay my journey.
“Tell your sister, I love her. Oh Luke, I’m so proud of you…” It is difficult to say the words. Padmé is coming closer, as is Obi-Wan, and Yoda, and Qui-Gon—all the Jedi and most of my friends. My mother is there, smiling once more. I feel myself echoing her last words…
“Luke, I—I love y-you…” That is it. I feel something breaking. My vision fades, yet brightens at the same time. It brightens with a new light.
Suddenly, I am standing. The wind is blowing through my hair. Yes, I have hair, and an able body. Here is my wife, my master, my friends. They no longer have to call me, because I am there.
No Luke, do not mourn me. I am complete.
Defiance by celine
The temple gardens were peaceful, tranquil, filled with life and renewal, eons away from what Qui-Gon Jinn felt. He was haunted, it seemed. Haunted by the choices he’d made, haunted by betrayal – and he found himself alone, berating himself for his mistakes. He stood quietly watching the greenery, the only bit of natural beauty in all Coruscant, a planet far too machinated for Qui-Gon’s taste.
“Troubled you are,” the familiar voice grated behind Qui-Gon. The tall Jedi did not have to turn around to know who it was.
“I find that I frequently am, Master Yoda,” he replied cordially.
“Hmmmm,” the tiny Jedi moved to stand beside him, barely reaching his former student’s knees. “Why feel you this way?”
Qui-Gon closed his blue eyes, so aged for such a young and handsome face. His lips drew together in a firm line; the breeze tousled his long brown hair, but he did not answer.
“Ignore me, you should not,” Yoda warned gently, with a poke at Qui-Gon’s boot. “Strange you are, Qui-Gon. Alienate yourself from others you do, and then mourn because you are alone.”
“It somehow doesn’t seem that way to me,” Qui-Gon replied softly.
Yoda laughed, but his heavy-lidded green eyes held no sign of amusement. “Make your path more difficult than it needs to be, you do.”
“If you’re insinuating that I create my own problems – I do what I must Yoda, no more.”
Yoda snorted, “Must you try to save every creature you meet? Their guardian are you? Big you are Qui-Gon, but not big enough to be responsible for all.”
Qui-Gon’s eyes looked out into the artificial horizon. “Shouldn’t a Jedi help those he can?”
“Should not a Jedi help himself as well?” Yoda countered quickly. “Defiant you are. Defiant you always have been.” He tugged harshly on Qui-Gon’s brown trouser leg. “Like talking to your knees I do not.”
Qui-Gon reluctantly turned and knelt down to the ancient master’s stunted height. “I do not wish to discuss this with you,” he replied confidently.
Yoda met his gaze, “Rebel even now you do.”
Qui-Gon drew a calming breath. “I defy the council only when I must.”
“No!” Yoda banged his gimer stick against the ground. “Defy when it suits you! When the decision to make is difficult!”
“Sometimes the council is wrong,” Qui-Gon countered angrily.
“Have all the answers you do? So knowledgeable are you! Is that why to the darkside your student has turned? Because so right were you.”
Qui-Gon’s composure momentarily broke, and a flash of defiant pain lit his eyes. “If I didn’t know better, I would assume that bringing up Xanatos was meant to hurt me.”
“Assume you always do. Assume the code applies not to you.”
“The code should not be set in stone,” Qui-Gon stood to his full height and turned his back to the diminutive master.
“Only your heart, hmmmm?”
In all his life, it seemed that no one could wound him with quite the same ease as Yoda.
“Why don’t you like me, Master?” Qui-Gon said lowly. The composure of his tone belied the anguish in the blue eyes. Behind him, he heard Yoda make a disapproving snort.
“Too old for this you are, Qui-Gon. Not some child searching for reassurance.”
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and swallowed down the old pain. Yoda was correct, he must not make this argument about old wounds.
“Hate you I do not, Qui-Gon,” Yoda added after a moment. The tall man turned around to face his former teacher.
“Bitter you have become,” Yoda observed.
“Not bitter. Frustrated with the unbending rules of the council. Frustrated with everyone’s inability to understand another’s point of view.” Qui-Gon folded his arms.
“The council sees your point of view, but uphold our vows we must. One day great upheaval for us all will your defiance cause. Unfortunate that you waste your talent.”
Qui-Gon’s jaw tightened. “My talent is not wasted in helping the less fortunate.”
“More could we accomplish as a whole…loneliness makes you talk this way, hmmm?” Yoda’s long ears twitched. “One so close to the living force; yet so few friends have you.”
Qui-Gon bit his lip and wondered why Yoda wanted to hurt him this way. It seemed that they had been at odds for as long as he could remember. The little master pointed his clawed finger at the tall man. “Allow someone to love you. Closed off your heart you have. Keep your distance you do. Afraid to be hurt again, I think?”
Qui-Gon’s blue gaze met Yoda’s levelly. “I already have been.”
Yoda snorted. “Call this hurt you do? Truth this is – not hurt. Xanatos robbed you, I think. Open your heart, or repeat the same mistakes you will.”
“With who? I’m not taking another padawan.” Qui-Gon turned away again, his brown robe flowing behind him as he moved.
“Take another you will in time, Qui-Gon Jinn. Him I have seen.” Yoda’s reedy voice called behind him.
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SagaFanficAwards
Title: Fanfiction Awards Sock: The Saga
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Date Posted:
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RE: 2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
6/25 10:22am (1 edits total)
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Best New Author cont'd
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Date Posted:
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RE: 2008 Saga Fanfic Awards Excerpt Thread
- Date Edited:
7/2 4:25pm (6 edits total)
Edited By:
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Best Collaborative
A Light in the Darkness by Keila and LilyHobbitJedi
“If I die, my knowledge goes with me,” Palpatine stated flatly only an hour ago, just after his confession.
For all his deception and manipulation, Palpatine deserved to die and yet…
A sob escaped Anakin’s lips as Padmé’s beautiful face flashed before his eyes. If Palpatine died, so would the knowledge he needed to save his wife. How could he let that happen?
“I can’t,” he cried. “I need her.”
Crumbling to his knees, Anakin let out an anguished cry that echoed off the chamber walls as he turned to the only power capable of helping him – the Force. “Help me!” he begged. “I’m sorry for loving Padmé and breaking all the rules but I can’t lose her! I’ll die without her!” he buried his face in his hands, silently screaming for relief.
Several agonizing moments passed as Anakin released all his pent up emotions into the Force. Suddenly, he felt a tremendous weight lift from his shoulders – from his very soul.
Blinking in confusion, he cautiously lifted his head. He felt so light, so free and he knew without a shadow of a doubt what he must do next.
~~~~~
“Master, I don’t have much time to explain, so please just listen.”
A look of astonishment flashed across Obi-Wan’s face at Anakin’s boldness.
“Palpatine is the Sith Lord we’ve been looking for,” Anakin began, his voice cracking with emotion.
Obi-Wan listened in stunned silence as Anakin relayed the entire story, including his concern of a possible trap involving the clone army.
“I feel the danger, Master,” Anakin concluded, his eyes locking with Obi-Wan’s, pleading for understanding.
“I agree,” he finally replied as a tingling of warning washed over him. Something was about to happen. “Anakin, I need you to listen to me very carefully.”
“Contact Master Yoda on Kashyyyk using priority code 91 -,”
“The distress code,” Anakin breathed.
“He will answer as soon as he’s capable,” Obi-Wan continued, ignoring the interruption. “We have a plan in place -,”
Anakin’s eyes widened in shock. He never imagined that the Jedi would’ve been anticipating something like this, and that he never knew about it.
“Don’t ask,” Obi-Wan said, his tone grave. “Just do it. Master Yoda will guide you through what to do next.”
~~~~~
Nodding to Sly Moore, he stood back, relishing the waves of shocked horror radiating from the Senate body as the doctored recording was played.
“These Jedi traitors tried to murder me!” he hissed as soon as the recording was over. “But I assure you I am stronger than ever! I will not allow what transpired here today to weaken my resolve. With you support, I pledge to hunt down all remaining Jedi and deliver them to justice,” he paused.
“Dead or Alive.”
~~~~~
“You certainly have a way with people,” Siri mused reaching out to cover his hand.
Obi-Wan’s pulse quickened at her touch. Her hand was so soft and warm, he didn’t want her to ever pull it away.
“How are you feeling?” she gently asked.
“I’m fine,” he shrugged. “It’s you I’m worried about. Yesterday the healers didn’t even know if you were going to…to…,”
Siri squeezed his hand tightly.
“I don’t know what I would have done if you’d -,”
“You would have gone on living,” Siri interrupted firmly.
“No,” Obi-Wan shook his head in protest. “It would have killed me.”
~~~~~
Anakin felt his heart skip a beat as Yoda nodded his permission. “I know this isn’t the best time,” he began, ignoring the beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. “But I think everyone should know,” he paused, clearing his throat.
“Senator Amidala, Padmé, and I were married three years ago. She now carries our child.”
Stunned silence filled the room. Anakin swallowed and took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, Master,” Anakin continued, bravely turning his gaze to a shocked Obi-Wan. “I…we fell in love and we decided….we realized couldn’t be without each other.”
“M | |