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Author Topic: In an Imperial State of Mind: The story of Kane Lavos. (A post-TPM/AU/Imperial Fic) UPDATED:12/12/04
Protege-of-Thrawn 
Title: Manager Emeritus
 Registered: Mar '01
39902_Palpatine
Date Posted: 6/1/03 7:55am Subject: In an Imperial State of Mind: The story of Kane Lavos. (A post-TPM/AU/Imperial Fic) UPDATED:12/12/04 - Date Edited: 12/12/04 2:19am (9 edits total) Edited By: Protege-of-Thrawn
Title: In an Imperial State of Mind: The story of Kane Lavos.

Author(s): Protege-of-Thrawn.

Timeframe: post-TPM thru to post-ROTJ. Incorporates minor AU elements to chronology.

Characters: OC's, some EU and PT cameos.

Genre: Imperial, third person narrative.

Keywords: Imperial, Kane Lavos, WOTG, New Order.

Summary: We chronical the life of a young boy, whose life will be a bittersweet yet profoundly epic tale that reflects and mirrors the rise and fall of Palpatine's New Order.

Notes: based on the characters and chronology developed by the War of the Galaxies Role Play, the first ever Role Play on the JC.
Knowledge of this RP is in no ways requisite to enjoy this fic, as it only draws on WOTG for source material such as characters and chronology sparingly, and all is explained within the novel. Thanks must go to all the WOTG crew for helping develop both my character, Kane Lavos, and the effect their's will have both on he, and my story.


So be gentle, and without further delay, I give you....


In an Imperial State of Mind – The story of Kane Lavos.


Episode I – The blessing of Pain

A lone man stood amongst the spiralling towers of Imperial Centre, as if a God whose gaze o'erarched all of which he himself had created, and now hold sole dominion. If not for the transpiristeel between he and the veritable chasm below, he would literally be looking straight down into the black despairing channels that told of lower mystery's then the human gaze could comprehend.

But this gaze could comprehend. It seemingly bore further then any other, unaware of space or time, as it saw all and regarded none. It saw the deepest secrets of that black unknown, the pain and suffering of a person unloved, the screaming wail of a child long forgotten, and yet it watched.

And yet...it enjoyed. A malicious, carnal taste of Darkness that once whet on the sweet nectar of power, had thirsted insatiably from henceforth. The watching however was far from a monopoly: this man was in turn, watched closely by one General Fhunur: member of the Republican Home Security Bureau, the latest innovation in the growing sweep of reform instituted by Chancellor Palpatine.

The very self same man in fact, who stood before General Fhunur, framed by the halo of power he was ordaining.
The power he was...creating. Developing, feeding upon. The energy that was culminating within the man to spread the terrible glory of his Imperial Vision to calm a restless galaxy.

Turning, the regally solemn Chancellor favoured Fhunur with a smile, inviting him to stand at ease with a soft glance and a tilt of his chin.

“General. Your role must be apparent by now. I need you to continue to investigate the situation on Ord Mantell, especially the innuendo concerning the separatists involvement. I have my utter trust in your already proven skills.”
Fhunur stood up straight, knowing that such a comment was enough to stamp his life with meaning then and there, completing his destiny in one glib declaration. He knew his mission, and the message the Chancellor was really sending.
Stir the embers, create the flame…light the fire of rebellion, so I may stamp it out
Fhunur was about to leave without speaking – for he really would have nothing of import to say – but somehow the grandiose feeling of validation that had settled on his shoulders forced him into the mode of heroic assertion.

“Chancellor, I understand my mission; and accept such with pride and honour. May your New Order flourish.” His excited stutter came out strongly – in his mind – perhaps piquing the interest of his Lord, the former Senator for Naboo.
Inclining his head slightly, the Chancellor allowed a slight look of consideration – devoid of humour – to creep along the lines of his wise and audacious features. “You are one of the true kind, General. Your position is one that is placed perfectly to flourish…or to flounder. Be sure you trust your emotions, trust your judgement. Law and vengeance fight an internal war…until we structure them into the one... Trust your instincts.”

With that the Chancellor departed, allowing a subtle flicker of dismissal to depart from his fingertips towards the sycophantic General.

Fhunur was not a small man, nor a shallow one. His wit and intellect was renowned amongst those who knew him, as was his cunning and deadly ambition. Yet when faced with such power and irritable command as that embodied in the Chancellor, his insight forced him to wearily confront his true role in the grander scheme of things: a sobering and humbling experience for anyone.

Turning, he began to walk out, his back straight and chin at an imperious tilt, but his inner resolve deeply bent and shaken by the proximity to the man who ruled every star in the sky and beyond.
Trust your instincts…

“Duck!” he cried as the undercover agents from the Bureau around him fought for the ground in a diving choreography, testament to the skill and training of this Bureau: the seed that would one day grow into the renowned Imperial Intelligence, as Fhunur would satisfyingly note when recalling this story in years to come.

The walls rocked as a concussion blast rocked the building, one window shattering transpiristeel over the team trying to fit in as separatists, heroically setting up a scenario that would leave the worlds youth a new batch of martyrs, a new symbol of freedom crushed by the oppression of the New Order. Such a delicious irony, that only a symbiois of minds as found in the Bureau could yield. His Imperial Majesty's doctrine on such matters was simple: fight heroically, inspire insurgency, whip up the youth and target our symbolic strengths.

I can do that...I am, doing that. thought Fhunur smugly, as he flicked a new power pack into his assault rifle, raising his chin to regard the scene about him in a split second of trained assessment.
“To the door! Keep up fire as we hit the eastern corridor, get those hovercraft out of the sky.” He ordered urgently, as his team assembled out of the room and scattered, leaving faked trace elements of gore and forensic samples that would serve as ‘proof’ of the rebels death on that level.

Fhunur felt the priming force of adrenaline as his young body coordinated a run towards the stairwell. Dropping their ropes, the team began a suicidal drop down the centre of the well. The last two troops sacrificed themselves for effect, staying above to fire grenade rounds at the hovercraft up on the same level from whence they came.
“All members, scatter to subterranean tunnels, get out of here.” Fhunur ordered, as his XO turned to gesture for a tunnel nearby.

“No Caspit, I need to see outside first; go on yourself, I will catch up.” He began to stealth his way down the corridors of this, the Republic consul on Ord Mantell. His XO nodded briskly, but his loyalty won out, as he began to follow his leader at a good distance, unnoticed by the focussed General.

Fhunur needed to see the grim satisfaction on the faces of the authorities, the disgusted howls of the young idealists, those small elements of emotional nuance that would rubber stamp the success of his cell’s effectiveness. As any good Bureau officer knew: a true War could not be fought simply on casualty rates and property destruction. The real War was in the hearts of the people, in their hushed tones, downturned faces, sad grimaces as the gory arc or reality arched above impossibly to slam down where they least expected it.

He crept up to the side door that was used ironically as an emergency exit, as he slowly slipped out of his battle fatigues and into the civilian garb he had underneath, setting up the inbuilt incinerator on his clothing and equipment. Efficent, clean and no evidence. Already the Bureau had learn't the methods that history would show held them and their Imperial Intelligence progeny in marvellously infamous stead.

He was unnoticed as he crept out of the alley way, and into the flow of civilians trying to get clear of the zone set up by the local OMCPA: or Ord Mantell Civil Protection Agency. Stalking up to the barricades, he watched slowly as a hover craft hit by a grenade swept out of control, slamming into a nearby building – in this, the residential zone – as the debris fell to crush the slow unwitting populace on the far side.

A weary grin overcame his face as he watched the outrage and horror sweep the watching crowd like a tangible air of rebellion, either staying to rally against the authorities present for hunting political protestors into a corner, or simply fleeing in fear of the fate that befell those on the other side of the exclusion zone. This, the actual planned inncident, was but the culmination of months of work that Fhunur and his team had put in. Leaflets, incitement of students and disallusioned youth, arming of dangerous fundamentalist groups in the otherwise stable society, pirate radio broadcasts, anti-New Order rhetoric. All had struck a chord, as the Bureau had predicted. As the Bureau had engineered.
And now, all the work, here, bore fruit. The teenage citizens watched what they deemed to be a group of their own peers, hunted by the police for their views, and forced to heroically fight back. The other citizens say only chaos and carnage, and the people were polarised in an eyeblink as quick as a tear on a berefit father, a wail caught in the throat of a distraught mother.

A glance, a look, a subtle inflection in the way a man held his head, the glint in that women's eye.

Fhunur and his team had won.

Backing away slowly, Fhunur began to turn, only to spot his XO skulking amongst the crowd, his eyes lighting up in recognition. Preparing a speech on command structure and mission security, Fhunur gestured for the man to follow him, bumping past a small shivering family of residents - a Falleen man and human women - cradling a young 3 year old boy, whose cool gaze spoke volumes of his fathers reptilian heritage. That such an interspecies relationship was allowed under the former Republican society was but one more example of why the New Order was needed. When rational human's diluted their blood with alien, reptilian, sub-human filth, no good could come of it.

At the last thought Fhunur found his gaze slowly fall on the child, whose green eyes stared calming back at him, the slightest crease of a frown furrowing his brow. Fhunur tried to ignore it, as his lips turned up in disgust at the odd feeling the child's gaze was conjuring in his gut. Damn these alien scum, damn their human harlots for disgracing the species, and damn their bastard children.

The boy seemed to look straight at Fhunur, with that same child-like judgement that all innocence seemed to possess. Fhunur felt the creeping feeling of guilt struggle up his spine, but dismissing the gaze, he continued to flow past the group, the boys gaze lost in the flurry of his thoughts as he edged towards the darker seedy parts of town, where the Bureau’s cell resided….in a war of gazes and stares however, Fhunur could not help but harbour a thought in the back of his mind, at what such a look may portend...or why such a look on a three year old boy unsettled him so....


Months past…


Recent enlisted officer of the People’s militia, Capt. Frek, a stern middle aged Falleen man, rushed past the towering blasts of the separatists terrorism. As the strain on the local authorities became too much, the government set up a reserve force of citizens, those who opposed the idealistic tenants of the rebel cells cropping up: the spawn of misguided university students and unemployed glory hounds.

He knew for what he was fighting: ironically, it was peace. Peace from violence, peace for the Republic and his planet, peace for his wife and newly born son.

Newly born…what words became imprinted on our minds despite the march of time! The boy was nigh on four standard years, and already speaking some words and sentences, not to mention running around the kitchen raiding the food construction unit. The shrieks of delight warmed the heart of his father, and gave more then enough of a spur for Frek to keep pushing for peace.
But this was different. He had just heard a report of the separatists terrorist attack in another residential area of the upper classes, some nonsense ideal about the economic tyranny of the worlds successful echelon. Yet that was not what worried Frek, what worried him was the name of the building that was targeted.
The Yurian Gardens. Where he and his family lived.

“Quickly men, load the cart.” He intoned eloquently, pulsing out a pheromone signal that inspired the primal fight or flight response in most sentient creatures. As the teams actions sped into a more hurried sense of urgency, he grabbed the controls and sped over to his life, his family, his world…a world crumbling under this kriffing hand of violence, of rebellion.

His bitter thoughts melted into horror as he rounded the corner, and saw the smoking squat deck of housing, and the milling, tumultuous throng of dead-or-dying stumbling about the entrance to the residential buildings: yet more horrific evidence of the growing atmosphere of chaos and hell.

“No...Kaya!” he cried, as he saw the broken fragments that were once the windows to his flat, the smoke curling its insidious way from his living quarters.

Hurling out of the hover cart as it came to a stop in this the fading light of dusk, he screamed a cry of vengeance as he charged past the beginnings of the barricade, ignoring his teams desperate cries of the buildings instability.

Hurling himself towards the stairs, he slipped as a balustrade fell from the curling path to his destiny, the debris falling down to the lower levels with a thunderous clamour: his mind full of the creaking omnipresence of destruction. The crackle of fire was soon matched with the gust of heat in his face as the Falleen scrambled up to the next level and the next, met with a wall of fire, and the screaming hiss of exposed electrical wiring. Another explosion rocked the building from below, as the floor and room just next to him caved in to form a multi-tiered sinkhole, a hurling tumult of smoke billowing up and into his face as he crashed to the ground, just in time to see another prone figure laying nearby.

Another victim, or separatist scum? His mind whirled with possibilities as he charged up and past the caved in floor, clambering up the slabs of rock to the next level of buildings, to be met with the groans and screams of those not quick enough to escape after the initial blast. Knowing he should help the man moaning nearby but too sick with worry to care, he charged past, knowing he had but one level to go. A shadow seemed to creep in the corner as an able bodied man fled to the escape conduit to the next building. Once again Frek’s mind whirled. Desperate man driven by fear, or demonic instigator escaping the scene of his wickedness?

Continuing up he finally made it to his level, as he rounded the next set of stairs, grasping for the doorframe only to have it crumble down atop his hand. Rearing back, he tried to charge through the dust, as the flames licked around him. He finally made it to the clearing, only to fall to the floor in an involuntary vomit of horror.

It was his room. Gone. Collapsed. The floor had caved down half way down the next level, the kitchen was still hanging there from the roof, without a floor. The furniture lay strewn in a diabolical scene ripped perhaps from the pictures of some sick child’s tantrum, the destruction leading into his young son’s room, and his wife – Kaya’s – fortress of solitude: their bedroom.

“No!!” he screamed. Aware of the danger but caring nought of it, his face burrowed into his scarred hands - horribly burnt by the fires - unbeknownst to the desperate Frek. He began to crawl with a fury towards his lounge room, silent gasps of stupid terror overcoming him in a shudder, as he crept towards the caved in portion of his house. The windows seemed to hiss with the heat as another one shattered, the insulation of this destruction echoing out into the streets as the clamorous riot of activity spread throughout the populace: yet another attack, yet more death.

He crawled down to the precept of the slant, as he slid down to the bottom to search for his family. A quiet gasp seemed to emerge which froze his heart in hope, as he turned for the cowled slab over the hollowed storage unit that was once in the room of his son. He turned to desperate hope as his last salvation, tearing at the rubble to find the huddled form of Kane, sitting there wide eyed and teary, desperate in his own untold horror as he looked up to his father.

“Kane!” shrieked Frek as he reached for his son, who – seeing only a scarred and burnt monster – reared back in horror.
“It is me; Frek, your father! Oh, do not cry little one, Oh Kane… we must escape, your mother…oh dear Kane, where is your mother?” Frek bundled the boy up into a ball trying desperately to decide on action. To clamber up and away to save his son, betraying his wife forever? Or to search for his beloved and condemn Kane possibly to death?

He was torn, but the decision was easy. He could not live without his wife, and he would never wish upon Kane a life within Ord Mantell without a family if he could help it. Beginning to form a decision in his mind, he placed Kane down into a cowled hollow, away from sight and safe from falling rubble. Trying to at least feel decisive, it was with a great deal of surprise that he turned to see a man who had come to look down at the staggering survivors of the Frek household.

Fhunur was aware of the insignia on this Falleen’s uniform: that of the People’s militia. Of course, Fhunur looked just like another victim himself - with the nick in his head sourcing a river of blood down his right cheek - but this stout officer knew the chances were good that the alien would spot him as an outsider. Surreptitiously he reached to check the safety on his blaster, and crept down the slant to offer his help.


“Are you alright there? Quick, we must escape.” Said the harried human as he crept down the embankment of concrete flooring, another burst of flame igniting behind him as a backdrop, lending a hellish tint to the Man’s face.

Frek was dismissive but grateful. “My Son, my wife.. here, we must save…” turning sharply as he heard a cry nearby, he began to sniff for his beloved Kaya’s scent, knowing it to be driven more by hope then fact…ignoring the human he turned to race through the maze of rubble…

Fhunur raised the blaster neatly and shot the Falleen in the back. The man was an officer – a Captain in fact – and a great deal better off dead in the Bureau General’s opinion. One less of the scum to deal with. He lay the last timed detonator meant for the flood of rescuers who would soon come. How he despised these aliens, these damn fools and their militia, the humans who sympathised at some strange level of weakness. He replaced the blaster as he slowly paced away, not seeing the feeble hand of the child reaching out of the hole to stroke the booted foot of the Falleen. The infant realisation of the burnt man’s identity becoming evident to the child with a horrified.. “Papa…”

Frek felt the fire strike him in the back, the insidious spit in the face of he and his ideals by the separatists, betrayed by some human scum. He felt his life drain away as his chin hit the ground, just as his eyes fell upon the prone form of his wife, bleeding from the neck but still alive and half buried under rubble, hidden from him till now.

Their eyes met for a moment as Frek fought vainly to reach out for his wife, whose smile lit his heart, the fingers touching as agony racked her face, his courage apparent as he pulled himself along to grasp her hand. Kane came out to stroke his boot, as in horror he remembered the fate his failure had ordained for his son as the boy cried ‘Papa’.

“My Love, Kane is alive! I don’t think he trusts me with this face of mine burnt by the fires of betrayal, you must tell him to run. Escape! He must not die with us in vain.”

His wife Kaya tried to reply, but the cut on her throat was inhibiting her speech; her tears of final pain and sorrow for her child, and of love for them both overwhelmed his heart.

“They try to destroy our peace Kaya, they try to destroy us. But we live on, Life lives on. In Kane we are embodied, in Kane we live.” He tried to impart a sense of calm and love on his wife as she floated towards death, her cold fingers clasping at his hand and heart desperately, a last triumphant bond between two lovers, two perfectly matched halves of a beautiful pair. Kane tottered up to his parents only to fiercely grasp at his mothers face, crying over and over ‘Mama’ as he rocked back, her face in his hands. He opened his eyes and looked at his father, his cries becoming more pained. “Papa…no Papa, please don’t sleep like Mama, don’t sleep…I don’t wanna be lone!”

Frek gasped in pain and sadness, as he implored his son with his eyes, his other arm not willing to work and his other not willing to part from his fading wife. “Kane, go! You must run and live. Remember your Mama and Papa love you very much, we all love you! Kane, please run!”
The boy shook his head fiercely as his eyes lit up with the fire of desperate passion, his chubby hands lancing out to grasp his fathers face, his other arm stroking his weeping mother as she locked her eyes longingly on her son.

“No Papa, Mama and Papa come too! You come too!!” His blubbering cries resounded through his tears as another thunderous crash clamoured up in the corridor, the fire now raging up and into the room.
“Go Kane! Now! You must go! We love, Oh, how we love you…remember our love, let it be your guide, we shall always be with you and guiding you…go…”

Kane stood up and tottered back as he saw the truth in his fathers eyes, a truth no child so young should know. Scurrying up and away to the top level, he looked back at the faces of his parents, and the view would be burnt into his mind and forever shatter his innocence, and his heart.
“Go Kane! Now! I love you, we guide you forever…my Son!…don’t e-”
Kane turned and ran, following out to the conduit door, his chubby legs and awkward gait hurling out upon the fence he had climbed over before as his dad had taken him on the wildest of adventures to the next building.

Now, he left forever.

Tottering past the horde of injured or sick, he climbed down the remaining stair well and out into the alley, ponderously slow on his young and already tired legs, trying to find someone who could help him, tell him his parents were safe and alright, someone he knew.
Anyone.
Anyone at all.
Turning back, he saw a soldier come running out the front of the building thrashing his limbs back, crying “Run! There are more bombs; everyone clear out!”
Uncomprehending of the meaning, Kane turned to look at the building he had once called home, cradling the picture of his parents in his heart as the light built up to overwhelm his eyes and mind forever…

Frek felt the stone land atop his leg as the first blast detonated prematurely, bringing down part of the roof on the nigh on unconscious form of Frek, his anguished screams doing nothing to wrench his gaze off the beautiful, tear filled face of his human beloved, Kaya: oh how her face inspired a desperate need in his heart.
“Kane is safe my love, our legacy lives on.”
She smiled, and wept silently, her hand reaching out once more to grasp his, their fingers meeting and then lunging, the tactile sense intertwining in a physical bond that paled next to the very closeness of their union, not separate but sharing in the one soul…

The explosions detonated, and the fire of war swept through the collapsed building incinerating the two lovers, their hands still wrapped around the other as they all turned to dust and memories…memories of peace, love, and a future….

Kane was bewildered, he began to blubber stupidly as he stood there, gazing up at the house, his arm covered in blood, his clothing in tatters. Screaming he fell to the ground, his eyes never leaving that searing blaze…

“Mama…Papa!!!” he cried, as he stood once more to look in dumbfounded horror at the site. His face seemed to form knowing forms, a look of surprise, one of glee, one of hope, one of hunger, one of despair. These looks, his voice, they usually brought Mama. Where was Mama now? Mama not gone....
Mama not gone...
Mama not Gone!
Papa...
Papa...
"Papa!" he cried, his gasp was a childs, but the pain within it had no business in such a fragile voice. Kane shrieked as it came crashing down upon his infant mind, that despite its youth managed to comprehend the terrifying fact of what had just transpired.

Mama and Papa are dead.

"Mama! Papa!" He began to charge to the burning building, ignorant of the flame, wanting only to walk back to where his room should be and find his parents there waiting. His charge was on stubby legs, a tottering tumble of confused strides, blurred by the salty stain of tears, and fogged by the relatively tumultuous terror that assailed such a youth. Tripping, he fell to the mud, his jaw clicking on his tongue, eliciting a more immeadiate and automatic response of pain. His charge of despair turned to one of utter hopelessness, his tears now the only thing left for him to do. Sounds assailed him, fearful sounds, and he shrieked in terror and blubbed in uncomprehending fear as he stood and tried to evade the omnipresent sounds. Turning slightly to the alley way as he heard the onset of hovercarts – a sound he knew little of and in this state trusted even less – he spotted a man.

No ordinary man, but a man in civilian garb, standing their as a tendril of blood ran down his right cheek, a shadow haunting his features, a forlorn guilt ridden gaze that shied away under the piercing stare of this grubby and shattered four year old.

Fhunur felt the reality of his life to date come crashing down upon him. Suddenly as if willed from some unused portion of his soul, fresh, untasted guilt tore at his tastebuds like bile. He couldn't move, his very breath transfixed in his throat at the strange feeling that held him in place. Before him, the child, all the pain around him, and now this child.... This little boy, standing among the shattered remains of a city block that he had destroyed, a tendril of smoke washing over the tear stained cheeks of this cool, deadly looking boy, that gaze so oddly familiar…

Fhunur shuddered and exhaled slowly, in a ragged breath. Pull yourself together fool, or you'll end up like those placade waving fools chanting matra's of "compassion" and "tolerance" for the Alien Scum! What next, food for the homeless Aliens? The one's who couldn't even be bothered working for a living?

Happy he had solidified his inner will and already forgetting the embarassing sensation of compassion, he tried to ignore that steady gaze of the child, that errie, steady, reptilian gaze....
Turning, shrugging away the last tendrils of guilt, he re-entered his role as staunch Bureau General. Walking slowly, he marched out of the alley and back into the chaos of the Chancellor’s mayhem.


2 years past….


Kane clawed his way through the pipe – barely wide enough for his torso let alone his shoulders – as he closed in on the terrified rodent that was clawing at the grating.
The feral six year old knew from experience what would come next. He would get scratched trying to catch his meal, and then vainly scramble up and out before the next flow came through from the above ground casino’s…
Leaping forward, he latched on to the animal, deftly crushing it’s skull in one wiry grip as he clutched the prize to his chest, deftly moving up the pipe as the ominous wall of water began to fill the pipe.

It hit his throat, overwhelming his mouth as his nostrils flared, he clawed his way up to the surface, and past the grating, the water gushing out the vent and down the embankment to the slight moat at the side of the road that led to the waste treatment facility.

The child scurried past the moat and in between two buildings, hunkering down to rip apart the stringy yet still warm flesh of his meal, feasting on the first bite of food in days.

Language had been forgotten in the mist of anguish, as for one Kane had no use for words – or what words he knew of in the first place – and secondly, the words he knew carried a baggage, a tag of unfathomable pain to which this scared boy could attribute no real reason.
His mind was unstructured, wild, able to develop on it’s own outside of normal boundaries. His was a sharp cunning, but not the same as many others would lay claim to. He still knew himself to be Kane, and his hand to be a hand, and his feet to be his feet, but that knowledge soon became relatively unimportant. He watched out of his hiding spot at the denizens of this still healing city. The seedy casino lights seemed to diffuse as the first drops of rain began to pelt down on the perennially darkened streets of Ord Mantell, the two ladies of the night walking past hoisting up cheap element guards to keep themselves dry – obviously unable to afford the more up-market repulsor shielding.

As he watched the two scantily clad women – a humanoid and a twi’lek – huddle together for warmth, Kane longed for even that much protection. He had nothing to ward off the rain, no one to hold him and comfort him. No warmth.
And more agonising then that, he could still remember such a time. He could remember the days of warmth, or compassion, or love. When he had his ‘Mama’ there to wipe away his tears and insulate him from the cruelty of existence.
But there, that word had raised its head. And With ‘Mama’ came all the memories… all the memories.
Shuddering in the desperate cold, clutching at his tattered rags and chest as a racking cough and chattering teeth sent wretched jolts of pain and agony up and down his spine, he let out a quiet whimper, a resigned groan of pathetic worthlessness.
No one knew of young Kane, and those who might of would care little of him. Statistically he was but one more unaccounted for corpse from the insurrections of 2 years ago.

What cold comfort for a boy who couldn’t even comprehend the evils behind his new existence, whose memory had suppressed all but the strongest tendrils of those days, the days of love and warmth..

The rain began to fill his cavity, but he could not think to move. Lying down amongst the freezing water, he cried softly too himself, rubbing desperately at his greying flesh as the bitter cold fought to consume his body.
Above, the relentless rain poured.


2 days later…


The civil maintenance droid floated into the cavity to investigate the drain blockage that had flooded the nearby natural entertainments hotel, only to find the tattered remains of a boy lying atop the drain, his body obviously suffering from severe hypothermia amongst the omnipresent threat of frostbite.

The Droid lowered a claw. Amplifier set, it boomed out the interrogative. “You are blocking the normal function of a duly registered civil council service. This is a punishable offence. If you are a sentient being, respond now with your citizenship code and you shall not be disposed of.”
The boy – his name now forgotten – opened a pained eye, but could not do anymore, his body so wrecked and ravaged by exposure to the elements.

“I repeat, you are blocking…” the droid droned on, lowering a claw once more to nudge the prone form of the boy.
The ruffian knew himself to be in trouble, but normal bodily functions had been shut down, what hope was there?

“This is my last interrogative before I transmit data to the civil police authority, you are block….”
Yet something primal spoke to him. Some remnant of his Falleen ancestry perhaps, or a more universal instinct that he bore in a more fundamental sense then most: it was a will that set him apart from most.

A will that despite the entire universe being stacked against him, having sacrificed him, he was worth something.
He had to live.
Standing up on muscles that screamed in rebellion, he staggered back to fall against a vertical drain, sizing up the enemy droid.

“Thank you for your co-operation. State your civil…” the droids manner was one of an automation, his shape one of basic design.
Lavos knew nothing of machinery, but once again, some things – such as the glowing red port to the left side rear of the droid – spoke volumes of an area’s importance.

Staggering past the droid he fumbled forward and seemed to sway then dive – movements which tricked the quick limbed droid who failed to grab him – as the boy dove and jammed his fingers into the port, popping out the transmitter.
No longer receiving data from the civil authority, the droid snapped into stand-by mode, a benign silence overcoming its babble.

Terrified, sick, and numb from his own miserable trials, Kane – yes, his name, what use was it? – staggered off into another alley, stopping as a coughing fit overcame him to let up some blood, before continuing down the path of his childhood…a destiny of anguish and destitute suffering…


End of Episode 1.

 

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Title: FanForce RSA
Oceania
 Registered: Oct '01
Date Posted: 6/1/03 8:02am Subject: RE: In an Imperial State of Mind: The story of Kane Lavos. (A post-TPM/AU/Imperial Fic)
Top stuff, Kane is exceedingly well-written. I look forward to the next episode. happy

 

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Elfsheen 
Registered: Feb '03
42009_Mira
Date Posted: 6/1/03 8:08am Subject: RE: In an Imperial State of Mind: The story of Kane Lavos. (A post-TPM/AU/Imperial Fic)
Pffff, talk about a read ey. That took forever, but it was certainly worth it. Your writing is excellent. And Kane is certainly very interesting!

Well done. You actually got me to read something other than beyond the saga grin

 

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Jet-Eye 
Registered: Jan '01
6473_Clone Emperor
Date Posted: 6/1/03 11:49pm Subject: RE: In an Imperial State of Mind: The story of Kane Lavos. (A post-TPM/AU/Imperial Fic)
"Simon....is Christ."


Whoa. Gold.

 

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Protege-of-Thrawn 
Title: Manager Emeritus
 Registered: Mar '01
39902_Palpatine
Date Posted: 6/3/03 8:27pm Subject: RE: In an Imperial State of Mind: The story of Kane Lavos. (A post-TPM/AU/Imperial Fic)
The next installment, hope it continues to whet the appetites....

Episode II – Echo of Evil.

7 Years Past…

Senator Deçra Lavos of Roon, stepped of the shuttle and onto the ‘clean’ tarmac of Ord Mantell’s diplomatic spaceport. Greeting the local dignitaries, he declined the media interviews, and lay a hand out for his wife, Juuris. Stepping down the ramp herself, she expertly linked her arm through his deft cleft forming on the left side.
A fit yet slightly corpulent framed man, he wore an ever present grin, which shot through the defences of even the most ardent cynic, lightening a mood at a moments swift glance. A neatly trimmed beard and sparkling blue eyes seemed to give him a presence that his diminutive height would belay. His wife in comparison, was a tall and elegant women, her sheer black hair falling down her back in a neat clasp, her often expressionless face now wearing a cool little smile, which seemed more amusement then true pleasure. Her eyes – which seemed perpetually half closed – surveyed the area in a moment, dismissing it as so many stereotypical structures, before setting off with her husband for the hostel.
The Senator for Ord Mantell, Horek Ogan - a sharply aristocratic man of medium, non-descript build – bowed brusquely to the extravagant couple, welcoming them to the planet.
“Senator Lavos, it is the hope of this government that your stay will emphasise a new unity among those loyal to the Chancellors New Order. Your Refugee operations are renowned to all, as is your systems determined effort to feed the fledgling Grand Army of the Republic.”
Deçra nodded slowly, keeping his ever jolly grin firmly fixed. “I thank you and your government for its kindness – we remember the horror of 7 years past for your people, and hope our program can help heal some of the past wounds of war.”
Ogan seemed satisfied with the exchange, and gestured to a nearby hovercar. “If you would entertain me a while, I would be glad to accompany you to the Diplomatic Hostel.”
Juuris stepped forward this time, her cool smile materialising as she lay a deftly light touch on Ogan, looking straight into his eyes, her beauty now painfully apparent. “If you would be so kind, we would prefer to walk, to get a feel for the populace.”
Deçra nodded. “It is a common method we use to gauge the depth of a groups psychic wounds, you can almost feel the true nature of a hurt or wrong.”
Ogan seemed to hesitate, whispering to avoid the media’s prying ears. “But honoured Senator, what of assassins or…”
Juuris seemed to press firmly on Ogan’s arm, her gaze hardening into shafts of intense focus, her quiet voice startling in its intensity. “Please Senator, we fear no assassins. Allow us this indulgence.”
Ogan lost focus for a moment, the seemed to straighten, puffing his chest forward and raising his voice for the throng of media present. “Of course though Senator, you and your wife have nothing to fear from assassins whilst you are on Ord Mantell. Crime no longer rules our streets. I shall allow you this indulgence.”
Juuris’ lips tugged up into a faint smile as she exchanged a subtle glance with her husband, as Deçra raised his voice also for the recorders. “I thank you, honoured host. We shall meet again tomorrow, say at the diplomatic dine in?”
Senator Horek Ogan smiled and gestured for the streets. “An excellent proposition. I look forward to it. Until then, godspeed on your quest to heal our world.”
With that, the Senator for Roon and his mysterious wife set off into the streets of Ord Mantell.

He turned to his wife as they turned into the dank and gloomy side streets, apparently troubled. “It was a risk to do that in front of the media, you only need one cunning little…”
“I sensed no trouble. Only yet more growing support for the Chancellor despite his radical shifts in stance on many key issues…even on the matter of…”
“The Jedi…yes, I know. But my dear, you have nothing to fear from that. You are my wife, and therefore protected. But on the other hand, there is genuine hope and gratitude in regard to our program…”
Juuris coolly turned her gaze on her husband. “You know as well as I that hope is not borne of any egalitarian truism present in this society. They only want us here to scrape the scum from the bottom of their social ladder, to clean up the streets for them.”
Deçra couldn’t help but nod his agreement as they turned to see a poor wretch lying on the sidewalk – asleep or simply without reason to move.
“It is disturbing, and it speaks of a core truth among civilisations. Corruption, attitudes and beliefs filter down from the top and to the sides, like an insidious cancer they spread to engulf all.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “Evil begets evil, one bad deed shall be repaid by another, repaid by another. Only by breaking the cycle, a united effort towards goodness and purity of the sentient dream. Only by stopping the root cause of this problem may we address the true need for healing and redemption our Republic needs.”
Juuris seemed quiet, usually a precursor to deep and long spouts of brooding. Yet suddenly she shook her head. “Your right, in all but one thing. The Republic no longer shares your dream. The Republic as we know, might as well be dead. The Chancellor’s ‘New Order’ has all but revolutionised this galaxy totally…”
“and most people believe for the better.” Finished Deçra fatalistically. “I was speaking to Bail only last cycle, and even he is dubiously optimistic for the worth of this New Order. If not for the bastions of resistance from Corellia, Chandrilla and other worlds of the same ilk, the Chancellor’s power would be supreme.”
Lost in their discussion, neither noticed the quiet predator stalking them in the shadows, the characteristic ‘click’ of a safety on a blaster…
Suddenly, Deçra was shoved down to the side, quickly regaining his balance to find some ruffian holding his wife with a blaster to her chin. It had obviously happened too quick, for she had the look of helplessness that betrayed her lack of confidence in the Force at such times – she did not wish to take such a risk as her skills might allow.
“C’mon rich boy, people don’t wear clothes like that down hear if they got any brains. They must have heads full ‘f money ‘nstead.” Said the leering Rodian, it’s antenna-like ears swivelling in nervous excitement.
“My friend, please, I would give you money and more, but release my wife. We are here to help the disadvantaged, on behalf of the government we are here, to try and help save those impoverished and destitute…”
“You tink youse big words and such can sway me? I aint like your kind boy-o, I live on the streets, we live by a diffent set a-rules. And you know one big one? If someone aint forking over cash, and only flapping thems gums, then they up to sumfing. If sumones upto sumfing, then sumones gonna die.” The Rodian unexpectedly began to pull the trigger, before Deçra could register the true danger his wife was in.
Out of the shadows came a wiry figure, batting away the blaster with a deft little punch, spinning to strike the Rodian in the face with a shaped pipe of metal. The would-be mugger snarled, and turned away, but the humanoid – Deçra could see him now – struck again, knocking the Rodian down once more.
The alien thought better of standing up, as he rolled to the wall, grabbing a large shard of metal or something similar, and before Deçra could shout a warning to the youth, the Rodian had swung up in a howl, striking the humanoid down once more.
Leering over him again, the Rodian raised the piece of metal, and howled. The youth was bleeding and looked unsteady as he tried to crawl back, as Deçra slowly stood with blaster in hand, shouting a warning.
“Enough! You’ve had your fun fool, now run and prey on something else. Go!”
The Rodian snarled again, but seeing the ‘kill’ switch on the blaster, thought the better, and ran.
Deçra stood shakily as he turned to see Juuris leaning over the youth, who was bleeding heavily from the head.
“We must get him to medical attention. After all this talk of people not caring...I can't stand to let the one child whose shown as innate goodness to suffer at the hand of blows meant for us."
Deçra nodded as shoved the blaster into his belt. “I only hope there are more of him out there then there are of the Rodian. It seems even at these, the lowest of depths, the cancer has spread.”
The dramatic declaration set a sombre mood upon them both, as the belated sirens arrived to aid the diplomatic duo.

Kane awoke in a nightmare. Everything had a dim white glow –even his clothes – he though, as he looked down at his body. He was clean, his hands and skin free from the constant grime and dirt; he reached up to touch his face, his tousled hair straightened.
Of course, he no longer though in words, so ‘where am I?’ Never popped into his head, but a strange feeling of dislocation fell over him.
His memory evoked visions of people, other people he had saved from Cruv and his cowardly attacks: something innately noble spoke to him to stop it, some Force outside his own compelled him to intervene.
He looked up, to see a swarm of droids swimming around the room. Oh, he knew about Droids. Ever since that first fateful encounter he knew them as one thing – enemy.
Frantically, he began to notice he was surrounded by machinery, all hooked up to the repulser bed he was lying on. He saw the man from the street enter, the stout jolly man that he cynically regarded as another possible enemy.
It was not Kane’s fault. You seldom viewed anything other then yourself as an ally after 8 long years scavenging the streets for vermin on which to feast, for a few measly scraps of existence amongst the competitive sub-culture of non-citizens, sub-alive beings.
He was getting frantic, but then a cool seemed to envelope him. Looking up he saw the women, the cool hand that had stemmed the pain in his head as he lay gasping on the filthy ground, his rasping breath fighting against the trickle of effluent trying to flow down the gutter into his face…
“The young buck looks fit enough to take down a Wookiee with one arm.” Crowed Deçra as his grin reached titanic proportions, an arm going down to tousle his – clean? – hair. If not for this eye of the storm standing next to the man – the beautiful lady who had saved him, he would of bit at the hand, but instead he allowed the touch.
The Warmth the kindness, they began to unlock the memories, the untouched pain from so many years back….
It begins as always, with a trickle of remembrance, of words, of civility.
Juuris seemed to be sizing him up. “Who are you child? And how did you come to be in this state? Do you have parents?”
Her words were like wildfire, eroding painfully erected mental barriers, an infant awareness blossoming once more in memory…
“Kaaaaaaaa kaaaaa n!…” he said slowly, tasting the sound, the first articulation to come from his throat in years. He tried again. “Kaaanee.”
Deçra raised an eyebrow. “Kane? I knew a capital fellow by such a name, from back in my days of schooling! What a child you are! I so hope we can help you son, I really do.”
Kane was listening, enraptured by the sounds of speech, when all the walls fell at once. A tear was running down his cheek before he knew his chest had seized up, his breath catching…
“Mama…Papa…” His eyes dulled and he seemed to drift once more, as Deçra sadly looked to Juuris, who nodded in affirmation.
“Deçra, I can almost feel the anguish. He has been alone for a long time…”
Kane’s eyes closed as he fought for warmth, for compassion…for acceptance, for anything to validate his existence…turning over he instinctively clasped the hand of Juuris, murmuring to himself in a very un-thirteen year old way “Mama…”
Her breath caught in her throat as she turned to Deçra, a thought forming between them.
“Of course! It is perfect. We shall adopt this child, and raise him as a family. A perfectly symbolic gesture that we CAN and WILL rebuild this galaxy since the fall of the separatists.”
Juuris looked down at the cool young child, knowing him to be something special, a mind so sharp and cunning as to have survived on streets that would kill most folk, for so long…and so young!
The Force spoke to her of this child…he was of the potential, such an effect he might have on the galaxy if only he were channelled correctly.
“Let’s neaten him up, and allow him to be fed. I think at this rate of recovery, he may even be able to attend the Dinner tonight, we can show the planet and the galaxy of the good that can come from darkness.”

Kane had sat down to a meal – a real meal – for the first time since those vague beginnings of memory, which we’re little more then dim preludes to the pain…
He felt sated, but his mind was once again that of the predator and prey, sizing up his existence, slowly rebelling against the threads of civility and normalcy that his memory and surrounds assailed him with.
Walking out of the shower cubicle, he grasped the white rag as Juuris had shown him, wrapping it around him as Deçra had told him, with that ever-present grin.
Walking out and into the office, he saw Deçra sitting before a glow, mumbling at the shifting glow in the most profoundly magical display Kane had ever seen.
The Senator finally noticed the amazed gaze of the youngster, turning to gesture for the boy to come over.
“Young Kane, I suppose all of this is overwhelming eh? I must say, your taking it all in better then I would, all these alien goings on, these things of common mundane life that are so foreign to you.” His piteous eyes searched out understanding in those cool reptilian eyes of Kane, but saw only a calculating, searching look, tinged with a hint of wonder and mystery.
“C’mon young’un, I’ll teach you how to use the datapad, its really easy…well, I suppose not for you eh, we still gotta get you to talk! But here, we’ll use the manual keypad interface…”

Senator Ogen stood and rang for quiet, as all the guests seated themselves. “Ladies and Gentleman of Ord Mantell, distinguished guests, it is my pleasure this evening to present Senator Deçra Lavos and his lovely wife Juuris, to speak to you tonight on their refugee initiative and how they are helping Ord Mantell and many other war ravaged worlds heal the scars of the past, and nurture the seeds of our future.”
A swirling wind of polite applause seemed to swell over the gathering, as Deçra nodded his thanks to the perfect introduction.
“It is truly an honour Ladies and Gentleman, to be standing here before you, able to communicate such an important message as the one we shall convey tonight.
Our galaxy – this Republic – has been overrun by civil disturbance, a myriad of myopic militants, and general acts of terrorism and war that have tried to shatter the stability of our great unified worlds.
Our gracious Chancellor has continued to fight the ravages of war, by instituting a New Order, a new way of operating on the Galactic scale. Yet as this may seem beyond you all, I tell you, that each and everyone of you can also make just as an important contribution to the healing of our worlds!”
Juuris watched carefully as he stepped through their rehearsed speech. She knew that he had traded off their condemnation of Palpatine as a sacrifice meant to sway the hearts of his supporters as well, but it was here that it might work or wane. Ogen seemed genuinely interested in his counterparts words, obviously bolstered by the kind words regarding the Chancellor.
“We have tried to lead the way for you all, in a symbolic action. The most obvious and painful side effect of conflict is the remnants of family and life left languishing in the wake of such war machines. Refugees. We today, have found this young boy, Kane…” gesturing to the youth standing nearby, as the court appraised the clean young boy: who wouldn’t want to embrace such a fine young youth?
“He is a perfectly capital child, who has been spurned by the fates and left homeless and parentless since early youth: around the time of your own separatist war. He had no future, but now we have welcomed him into our own household, and he will have a future: with us.
I call on you all to take heed of our lead. The greatest gift you can give to the galaxy is life – true – but the even greater deed is to salvage a life that may of otherwise perished. We of Roon shall try and aid those without anything: for anything less is to ignore our responsibility to the galaxy. I call on you the people of Ord Mantell to follow suit: shoulder this responsibility, help lead our republic out of the mire of conflict and back into the golden age of unified trust and compassion: For all.”
As he sat down, many enclaves of support stood and offered raucous support – even Senator Ogen smiled and nodded emphatically – whilst a few simply acknowledged the performance as well done.

One such person was the representative for the Republican Bureau of Internal Security, General Fhunur. Once again called to Ord Mantell to represent the group he was now sitting on the council off, he appraised the Roon Senator, the true reason for his coming.
The Chancellor had once again contacted him personally, telling him of the need to ferret out the identities of the hidden Jedi as much as those who are known to all. Under investigation from the Bureau was Juuris Lavos, whose heritage included a Great Grandfather rumoured to have trained at the Jedi Temple for many months.
Fhunur narrowed his eyes once more on the youth who was being paraded as a supposed ‘refugee’. Of course, he knew many existed – he had created most of them – he though with a smug grin, but this boy did not have the edge of feral animal about him that most did, and was probably a trained actor.
His eyes met those of the boy, whose gaze seemed to penetrate the true intentions of Fhunur, as his hand and gaze slowly traversed up to Juuris, before settling once more on Fhunur.
Feeling once again unsettled – and with a not so small twinge of Dejá vú – Fhunur turned to a polite courtier who was asked for his appraisal of the speech, forgetting once more that same feeling he had felt before...



A new chapter should be up within a week. Hope it is being enjoyed.

 

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"I don't mind a couple of spam threads around here" - Cahill the Tyrant [HawkNC]
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HawkNC 
Title: FanForce RSA
Oceania
 Registered: Oct '01
Date Posted: 6/4/03 7:48am Subject: RE: In an Imperial State of Mind: The story of Kane Lavos. (A post-TPM/AU/Imperial Fic) UPDATED: 03/
Top bloke, that Kane. I love the writing style, it's good to see some excellently-written work out there. I eagerly anticipate the next chapter. wink

 

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Protege-of-Thrawn 
Title: Manager Emeritus
 Registered: Mar '01
39902_Palpatine
Date Posted: 6/6/03 12:49am Subject: RE: In an Imperial State of Mind: The story of Kane Lavos. (A post-TPM/AU/Imperial Fic) UPDATED: 03/
Thanks Nathan, it means a lot.

I now know how hard it is to get readers in Saga! Oh well, if I'm writing for one or one hundred, it matters little. I'm still happy with my first foray into FanFiction.

Exams are making me busy, so it'll be a few days before I get the next chapter written, checked, and posted.

It's good writing not to a deadline, but to pragmatism. wink

 

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"I don't mind a couple of spam threads around here" - Cahill the Tyrant [HawkNC]
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tatooinewizard 
Registered: May '03
24080_Anakin
Date Posted: 6/6/03 7:24am Subject: RE: In an Imperial State of Mind: The story of Kane Lavos. (A post-TPM/AU/Imperial Fic) UPDATED: 03/
I have enjoyed the start of this piece and will read more when you post it. That first post was a bit large though. My story posts usually have spaces in between the paragraphs and are sixteen 'Page Down' clicks long. And sometimes I wonder if that's too long. But that aside, all and all, a job well done.

 

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Dolores Lennox--SMG I (The Murderer)
Fics in bio (The Legend of Black Saber--Winner for Best OC Story)
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There is no peace, only emotion
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PatttyB0123 
Title: Latin America RSA
 Registered: Apr '03
7725_Jaina Solo
Date Posted: 6/6/03 7:43am Subject: RE: In an Imperial State of Mind: The story of Kane Lavos. (A post-TPM/AU/Imperial Fic) UPDATED: 03/ - Date Edited: 6/6/03 7:44am (1 edits total) Edited By: PatttyB0123
Nice story, but you need to work with your paragraphs. I am having also hard time in my story in the saga part.
Still your story is nice.

 

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you can find spooky things. lol
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Protege-of-Thrawn 
Title: Manager Emeritus
 Registered: Mar '01
39902_Palpatine
Date Posted: 6/6/03 8:36am Subject: RE: In an Imperial State of Mind: The story of Kane Lavos. (A post-TPM/AU/Imperial Fic) UPDATED: 03/
Thanks for your feedback guys! I've noted the concern on paragraphing, I should be aware of that: always got into trouble at school for it. wink

Hope you like this snippet. I've made it smaller then the last two by a bit of a magnitude to help with readability.



Kane was slowly becoming more acutely aware of himself and his surrounds. Like a flood, years of instinctual activity did not so much subside, but learnt to amalgamate their actions with a rapidly forming sense of self and conscious deliberate action. Memory flooded back, all but the memory that could no longer be thought of, the memory of BEFORE. It no longer existed, apart from the barest hint carried on his knowledge of foods, of alphabets, of the route to get to the libary from daycare on Ord Mantell, the way to use a 'fresher unit, a food prep unit, and now, the most fantastic of inventions: the datapad.
He stood next to his father, and smiled warmly as he reached out to clutch the mans hand. He was somehow comforted to once again have his father, a father, to hold. It placated a part of him that had for too long been in turmoil, for too long been throwing itself in a feral barrage that assailed his senses and closed off his mind.
It spoke to him of love, of warmth, and the rush of absolute happiness that such words and concepts brought rushed up and threatened to tumble down his cheeks in icy rivers of salt that would betray his heart to the audience.
Holding back, his locus turned outward, as his eyes traversed up to his fathers beaming smile, that spread as a conduit through which that deep bass rumble of a laugh echoed, travelling up his corpulant mass of mirthful induldgence, culminating in his reaching low to tossle with Kane's hair as his other hand squeezed back.
"Your doing great my boy, doing real well. You ready for a meal?"
Kane smiled back, enjoying the fantastical warmth this idea brought him...this family. Yes, family. The word had once brought saddness. Why Kane could not remember, but that matter not anymore. Now he had family, and he would endevour to enjoy it, and ensure everyone else had the right to family, to safety.
To warmth.
"Yes father. This food they serve sure beats raw rat, I can promise you." The words surprised even he, the hint of humour spoke of an inner development even he was yet to appreciate. He had spoken, without a thought, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Deçra reared back in surprise. "You can speak my boy? Ah your coming to life right before our eyes aren't you? So much we should talk about...so very much. But now I suppose your tummy rumbles eh? Good food to eat." His expression sobered for a moment, as his sense caught up with his surprise. "I promise you Kane, no raw rodent, not ever. And with your help my boy, hopefully no one will have to eat such a street delicacy either."
Kane nodded, trying to convey contentedness and warmth through his smile, his cold eyes perhaps even betraying a flicker of warmth. As the stewards returned and placed the meal in front of him, his grin blossomed as the rich, intoxicatingly warm aroma's assailed his senses and sent a hot flush of delight rushing to his cheeks.
"Father, if I had a Zoochberry marinade such as this to work with, even rodent would of been gourmet." Picking up a fork, on both the instinctual rememerance of a civilised life past, and on the memory of what Juuris had been teaching him already, Kane waited for everyone to be served and picked up a tasty morsel of Ruusian Prarie meat, and plopped it atop his salivating tongue, almost letting out a moan of satisfaction at the taste.


Deçra simply stared in wonderment. This boy who a few weeks ago could not speak nor even communicate beyond basic gestures, now spoke with a vocabulary that most normal children his age would not. At roughly 13 years old, he was making wisecracks about zoochberry marinade and rodent meat.
What is going on in that head of yours Kane...what is making you tick?
As he himself turned to nod in contendness to a courtier who wanted to congratulate him on his speech - some General from Palaptine's Bureau it seemed - he relegated his thought further back behind the persona of comminication. He would raise Kane as the boy he had never had, and that Juuris could never bear.
It made his heart sing with gladness that he had been given this chance: and made his mind hope against hope, that all in the galaxy was not given over to despair.
"Thank you General, your remarks warm my heart."
Fhunur nodded, and spared a glance to the child, his own mind racing in dashing darts of cognition that even he could not fathom. "No Senator, thank you. Your son reminds us all, of what we fight for, and what our glorious New Order endevours to achieve."
Deçra nodded, his mind alerted to an odd lilt in the mans speech. "I can only hope all men think as you do General, good day to you."
Fhunur smiled and departed, allowing his gaze to linger once more on the child whose gaze met his back as oddly and cool as ever.
Deçra sat, and at more of his meal, his mind wandering.
"I should say father, I don't like that man. He is of the odd manner." spoke Kane purely and calmly, chewing on some of the meat as a napkin rose to wipe some more zoochberry from his mouth.
"Ay my boy, I hear you." replied Deçra, who watched him depart. "You have a keen intution, that should be put to better uses then that however. Such as eating your meal, and then going to greet your mother. She will be as happy as I to hear your darling voice speak so."
Kane nodded, as he placed his utensils together. Standing, he grasped his fathers hand once more, and departed to look for his mother, politely excusing himself as he passed someone in the hall.
Deçra sat, and simply shook his head in amazement.


Kane wearily walked into the apartment, and began fixing himself a hot chocolate. The drink was imported from some exotic Rim world, and was simply delicious. he much preferred it to the omnipresent caf his father consumed, and it was easier to make properly as well.
He wondered for a moment how differently he thought now then a month ago. Instead of nothing but automated threat assessments and wiry automations, he now could also simply contemplate both situation and self. To look within and marvel at what he saw. It was something profound, and he suddenly found the ephinany that had been staring at him since awaking in the hospital, something that seared into place new networks that had been spreading like wildfire in his neural pathways.
He knew what it was to be alive...to be human. Or as close as his mixed ancestry would allow, but the point still set yet another burst of adrenaline off in his mind.
Smiling, he sipped from his drink and wondered distractedly if he was perhaps getting addicted to endorphin release over the past few weeks. He had certainly been inundated with them after a long period of their drought. His mother walked in looking radiant in her sleek, spider silk night dress, as she bent low to wrap him in a hug.
"A drink before bed is it Kane?"
Nodding, he offered her a glass but she declined. "Yes Mum. Your food prep unit is quickly becoming my little plaything."
Laughing, she patted his wiry torso and added a touch of mock scorn to her voice. "Keep it up and you'll begin to look like Deçra."
"Dad says a wide girth is only indicative of a happy lifestyle."
"I have no doubt he said that Kane, no doubt at all."
"You would suggest otherwise?"
Grinning she shook her delicate head slightly, glistening black hair cascading in ripples down her shoulders as she moved. "Not in the presence of young ears with dutiful attention. You're your father's son in more ways then one."
Kane's eyes become distant, as he latched on to yet another errant thought. "But I'm not originally am I. I come from someone else, another parent...don't I?"
The deeply troubled sound of his voice urged Juuris to envelope him in another hug, as she stroked and soothed his mind with the Force. Once again she was in awe of the crackling luminous image Kane's mind set onto the Force. It wasn't sensitivity she thought, but something apart from it. Like a razor sharp shard of light sliding across the liquid surface of the Force to spray outward in a prismatic cascade of rainbowy brilliance amongst the sullen rocks of everything else.
She knew once again he was special, and the look in her eyes as she lent back to look into his said this and more. "You came from a place only the Force can comprehend, and you've endured things I daren't think about. You've suffered, and now by the Force, we'll help make up for that as much as we can now. The galaxy is before you son;don't languish in a past we don't know and can't begin to guess at."
Kane nodded as his mind analysed her words, and he favoured her with a brave expression. "Thanks...mother." wrapping her in his own embrace now, he slowly released his grip, and drained his mug, before scampering off to his billet, stopping only to look out the window at glint of light, looking at it for a moment, before closing the drapes and allowing the dark of night to remain inside as sleep slowly crept toward his mind.
Juuris remained crouched, watching him depart wistfully, and simply shook her head in amazement.


Sitting in the depth of night and cold, Fhunur rubbed his hands and allowed a foggy wisp of mist depart on the back of his breath, as he once again looked through the scope and macrobinoculars to watch through the window as Juuris and that boy embraced again, before the child stood back and began to drain whatever it was drinking from the mug.
He had a clear shot if he wanted it, and he felt it safest to err on the side of caution. He didn't have any evidence that she was a Jedi or even related to them in anyway, but Chancellor Palpatine had been explicit in his encyrpted memo to the Bureau. Anyone who might even remotely be related to the Jedi, must be dealt with and rendered ineffective. The meaning was clear, and in Fhunur's mind, better to get rid of extraneous possibilities then to leave them around.
The Bureau was all about efficency: only an efficient system, within the efficency of the New Order, could ever hope to calm the chaos of the galaxy and supplant it with the peace of the coming golden age.
As he looked through his scope, he froze.
The boy was at the window, standing right there, and was looking right at him!
He tried to breath, and didn't move an inch. The boy just stood and looked. He couldn't possibly see Fhunur, not with the naked eye. Utterly preposterous!
Fhunur began to move to try and focus on a similarly unmoving Juuris, but the boy closed the drapes, blockhing his view.
He snarled in Bothan and then Huttese, deciding he need the latter's more substantsive cussing vernacular. Frustrated and slightly unnerved, he tried to examine the eerie feeling that boy gave him. Probably some damned message from the Jedi's mystical Force.
Snarling again in disgust, Fhunur bent his head low, and simply shook his head in amazement.


3 months past.


The Ship rocketed up out of the orbit of Ord Mantell, and Kane for the first time left the stratosphere of his homeplanet. Looking out the viewport of the sleek Roon Royal Yacht, his mind slowly began to comprehend the scope of the galaxy, and how minor a part his world played in the complexity that was the Republic. Deçra had told him a few moments ago, that Ord Mantell sometimes reminded him of a "dimmer" Coruscant from space as well as on the surface, with the built up districts and metropolis. Kane had no point of reference in his experience of course, but from here he thought....he thought Ord Mantell, was beautiful.
Juuris walked through and sat beside him, watching as his impassive features glared out at the planet with that distant, thinking, almost wistful facial expression she was already associating with the wily young man.
"Deçra has just recieved final word for Roon Civil authority and the Republican Children's Administration. Your now our legal ward and son."
Kane smiled. "I'm glad my luck is now official."
Juuris allowed a small chuckle at the remark, and bent low to look him in the eye. "You know, it isn't many 13 year olds who can hold a conversation like you can. Well at least, human 13 year olds. I'll admit I've met some wonderful Caamasi children."
Kane nodded, and turned from the viewport for the first time. "Caamas. Lovely planet if I remember the datapoints from father's files. I'd love to visit it. I'd love to visit them all."
In time young one, in time.But these are dangerous times we live in, the Seperatists wage a war and the Chancellor is taking some drastic measures to keep the Republic together..."
Kane's gaze sharpened. "And you don't approve?"
Deçra strode in at that moment, and sat at the holodeck wearily. "Son, many things are hidden beneath his words in my opinion. His actions and deeds speak louder then any of his words, unfortunately the majority of people do not agree with your mother and I on that."
Kane nodded. "Isn't unifying the people a good thing though? He has created the Grand Clone Army, and now safeguards the citizenry against the Seperatists."
"By taking their civic rights and freedoms." returned Juuris.
"By neccisity though, is it not?"
"His actions will invariably create children like you Kane, children who had no hope."
"And by unifying the people culturally and politically, he'll ensure that kind and loving people such as you are there to help children such as me."
Juuris took her breath in and steadied. "You've garned quite an opinion on this subject obviously."
Kane nodded and lightened the mood with a smile. "I'll admit I've formed little of an opinion, I'm simply playing the Sith's Advocate so the speak. I've had a lot of time to read the source material on father's computer."
Deçra guffawed and nodded again. "Some kids will do that for years and not be as resourceful. But enough of that, we'll be on Coruscant soon enough. You'll perhaps even be able to see the man himself."
Kane smiled delicately. "I'd very much like that Father. And then can we go see Camaas?"
It was Juuris this time who smiled. "Of course we can, it'll be good to see them. and perhaps I can introduce you to some of my friends...from the Order."
Deçra reacted instinctively at the mention of the Jedi, before realising the only one who could hear was their own son. Hardly a security risk! Allowing that patented grin again, he turned and left for the cockpit.
"Not long now, Kane you should get some rest."
"Can I have a Hot Chocolate first?"
"Of course you can. Hurry along!"
Allowing a shriek of delight as Juuris got up and growled to chase him, Kane's face beamed as he outrun her to the kitchette. Deçra was again reminded that despite his elequonce, the ruffian was still a boy. A boy with a history Deçra may never no, working on morals, values, and ethics born not from education or familial situation..but the sheer struggle to survive.

As the boy fixed himself his hot chocolate, the swirl of hyperspace continued on into the night, and Coruscant bound they flew.



It had been a few weeks, and can had gotten himself well and settled. He had been the one to ask his father if he could go to school, after meeting some kids who were in awe of the fact he didn't quite realise what schooling life was all about.
Now he stood in the lounge room, beaming like a clerk down in the newly being built Palace, being congratulated by the Chancellor himself.
Juuris straightened his uniform and seemed to babble about how he would have to behave and remember his manners, her flustered manner Deçra decided, more a manifestation of her pride then anything else.
In the space of a few months, their street ruffian had adapted. Old habits, memories, and some new ones developing into a remarkable young boy. Deçra was both proud of what their son had achieved and also slightly humbled about what role he really had played in such an affair.
Now, with a juri juice squeeze pack in hand and a lunch pack of fresh zoochberry's and a Nerf sandwich, the young man kissed his mother on the cheek, gave Deçra a big warm hug, and ventured off down the hall to a turbocar that would take him to the street opposite the school.
He sat opposite a Rodian who seemed agitated as it stood there, ear stalks swivelling furiously. Two older kids got onto the turbocar, and looked at the Rodian with sneers. "Your in our usual seats."
The Rodian - easily larger then the two boys - squacked something and then moved, it's agitation increasing. The boys looked triumphant as they sat down and began to chat to each other about the Shockball tournament.
Kane couldn't believe it. Coming from his background he had been instantly enamoured with the ways of decorum, manner and civility. He could see that they were absolute luxury's of life that those on the edge trying to survive could seldom afford, yet still did, because only together could they survive.
It angered him a bit, and he walked up to the two boys, whose chests were barely reached by his frame.
"Excuse me, but you had no right to speak to that man like that. He has as much a right to the seat as you."
The boys looked with surprise down at the eeriely calm face of this young'un, their surprise quickly supplanted by annoyance, which fuelled the basis for the sneer.
"What business is it of yours little boy." the leader replied, putting a patronising emphasis on the 'little'. "You some alien lover or sumfin'?"
Kane inclined his head coolly as he stepped back, so he could look at the boy without arching his head. "I'm just trying to help the man, who you treated unfairly. If he was less kind then he is, he would of snarled back at you, and perhaps rightly so."
"And perhaps rightly so!" mocked the larger boy, who obviously had made less use of his education over the last 8 years as Kane had done in as many weeks. "He's an alien and should know his place. If it wasn't for him and his kind, the seperatists wouldn't exist and the galaxy would peaceful like it should be."
Kane seemed genuinely interested. Well this was something he hadn't heard before. "Non-humans are responsible for the seperatists? From what I've heard it was a human, a count called Dooku."
"A jedi." spat the boy, his face livid. "Alien-lovin' wizards, the lot of them. They should all be locked up. They'd eat their own kind if they could."
Kane had never heard such thoughts before. He wondered if school would contain such wonderous and diverse ideas as this. At no stage did it strike him as dangerous, his fascination overrode that. "The Jedi and the Aliens then? They caused the Seperatist movement?"
The boy crowed triumphantly, obviously just as happy to be turning the tide of the younger boys opinion as if he would be having just clobbered him to the ground. "That they did, the damn scum. The Chancellor will get 'em though, you can be sure he will. Any good human should sign up for the military and help fight for him I reckons, sure is what I'm going to do."
Kane withdrew and sat down, plopping a zoochberry into his mouth as he thought about it. It was all a bit confusing for a young mind such as his. The turbocar arrived, and Kane hopped out and followed the boys into school. The older one noticed he was going to the school as well, and favoured him with a grin.
"Me name is Manny. Your obviously new, otherwise you wouldn't be asking such damn'd stupid questions as yer did back in the car. How old you?"
Kane took his proffered hand and smiled back. "I'm 13 standard years. Name's Kane by the way."
"Kane eh? Sounds Alderaanian. But you sure as hell don't look Alderaanian. You a human aren't you?"
For some reason, Kane felt compelled to omit his mixed ancestry. "Of course. I'm from Roon. Son of Senator Lavos."
"Roon eh? Ay, I don't no much 'bout politics. Wouldn't know who yer bloomin' father is. But I know a lot of the polly's kids come here. You know where your going now?"
Kane nodded. "Yes thanks. Room 34D, general administration I think."
Manny pointed, and gave Kane's shoulder a rough squeeze. "You sound like a smart one Kane Lavos, 'specially for yer age. I'll admit I wasn't so damn smarts when I was 13. Maybe I'll see you around kid."

With that, Manny left, and Kane wandered the school alone. Eventually finding where he was going, he noticed he was a bit early. He went and sat down near a few other students, before a gruff old man walked in and pointed to a few lockers.
"Your names have been marked, welcome to the new admissions class. Soon enough we'll have you settled and integrated. Your names are all labelled."
Kane quickly found his locked and put his stuff in, locking it. He hurried into the class room and was given a seat on a tbable with two other kids, who both looked around uncertaintly. Kane decided to take the "initiative" as his father had advised, and introduced himself.
Sticking out a paw, he smiled. "Hi, my names Kane. Your new as well?"
Both nodded, and introduced themselves in turn.
"Sil's my name, my parents just moved here from Fondor." said the male, who looked around the room keenly and seemed relieved to be talking to someone and not by himself.
"Laura Wheatley. My mother's part of the diplomatic corps of Chandrilla." spoke the other girl sweetly, as she flicked her hair away absentmindedly. "I'm kinda nervous about School, what about you?"
Kane gave his best brave face and replied. "Nervous? Excited is a better word I think. I'm just eager to learn."
Sil seemed to giggle at that. "Eager to learn? My brother told me what they teach you at school, it all sounds boring. I'd prefer to be out in the yard."
"I don't know, I'd like to learn I think." replied Laura as she picked up the nametag from the box being passed around and clipped it on.
"So would I, but learn how to fly a ship, or a fighter! I'd love to fly." said Sil excitedly, his short, cropped black hair blurring as he bobbed his head excitedly.
Kane allowed his own slightly ragged long black hair to drop down a bit as his green eyes beamed with delight. "My father let me take the controls of the ship on the way to Coruscant. It was exciting for sure!"
Sil's eyes widened. "My dad would never do that. He'd be to afraid I'd crash it. were you in hyperspace?"
Kane shook his head. "No, he took them back before entering hyperspace. It was still fun though."
"I bet."
"Boys." replied Laura as she rolled her eyes, and Kane allowed her a chuckle whilst Sil only scowled.
The gruff voice of the teacher interrupted their and other pockets of chatter, as the days resumption came to hand. "Alright class, I'd like to begin by welcoming you. Your at a very prestigious school: our graduates have grown up to be some of the most well known senators, scientists and men of propriety in the galaxy. You follow in the footsteps of greatness..." he continued to drone on, whilst Kane and Laura tried to appear to listen intently.
Sil didn't even bother with any pretence. Allowing a soft grown he slumped back in his chair, and was surprised by the sharp whack of a pointer in the plasteel table top.
"Snoozer, if you wont do me the courtesy of listening, you must be one of two things. A genius, or a trouble maker. So which on is it, young master..." squinting, the gruff old teacher looked at Sil's name tag. "young master Sil Dugal?"
Sil replied with a beaming bravado. "Genius sir, I'd be sure of it."
"Quite a claim young man. Praytell what would our genius have if he found the square root of negative fifteen?"
Sil replied quickly. "Well he'd have an imaginary number Sir, and a very special one at that."
The man allowed a slight smile as he looked down at Sil. "Very good. Why is it so special though?"
"It's the integral that remains from every coversion of real to hyperspace, and is compensated for by navicomputer calculations to allow such conversions to occur."
"Thirteen year olds telling me the intricacy's of hyperspace travel, things changed a bit from my day. Alright, you've justified your inattention this time. Next time though, genius or no, you'll be reporting to the principal. Understood?"
Sil's smile died and he shrunk slightly in contrition. "Yes Sir. Sorry sir."
"Well and good then. Now class, as I was saying..."
Kane nudged Sil in the ribs and favoured him a grin. "That was pretty cool. How'd you know that?"
Sil replied in a hushed tone. "I was just lucky he asked me a question about hyperspace. My dad's a ship captain, and he tells me things like that all the time."
Kane nodded as he turned back to the class, and heard the tale end of a question from the teacher. "You'll learn basic physics and mathematics in Doctor Rhombardo's class, and then will get a bit of a philosophical break to wax lyrical with Grodin Omas in political studies. Do you have all that marked down now class?"
Kane stole a glass from Laura's notes, and begin scrawling down what he had missed while he joined in the crescendo of "Yes Sir" from the group of kids. Laura noticed his looking at her notes, then looked past him to see Sil doing the same thing to what Kane was writing down.
Rolling her eyes again, she walked off following the rest of the class. "Pfft...Boys."




He's growing up right before my eyes!
Hope you like it, I'll get working on the next installment of this later on.

 

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"I don't mind a couple of spam threads around here" - Cahill the Tyrant [HawkNC]