The Sands of Time: 500 Years after Return of the Jedi

<Sorry about the long delay, everyone. Now here's a new post!!>

For a few heartbeats, Sarn Zor'sya was enveloped by pitch darkness. Then dim lighting came to life, and he found himself in a familiar place. The cockpit of a spaceship.

It was a bit smaller than what he was used to, as this was a starfighter and not one of the medium transports most of his flight experience had come in. And, of course, this was not really a ship at all, merely a very realistic simulator. But the starfield in front of him was a sight the Bothan was very accustomed to seeing.

"Ready to begin?" the voice of a male Navy officer asked through Sarn's comm.

"Ready," he replied.

"All right. We'll begin with several one-on-one engagements, with escalating difficulty. You'll go on to two-on-ones, three-on-ones, and four-on-ones as long as you survive."

"I copy," said Sarn. There were no further instructions, so he sat in silence, waiting for the first target to come.

Feel, don't think.

The words flowed through Sarn's mind as he sat there.

Use your instincts.

Master Kenobi had given him the advice before he had entered the sim. Sarn knew he would be wise to take it. He gently gripped his flight stick as the wait continued. The form of the stick in his hands reminded him somewhat of a lightsaber, and at the thought Sarn felt a slight heat rise in his cheeks. He had wanted so much to succeed in his training, to go into battle like the heroic Jedi Knights of old. Perhaps he would never be able to. Sarn could not deny that it hurt, but if he did well here it might help ease the pain.

And suddenly, the first ship appeared.

* * *

"He's flying against actual pilots, correct?"

"Yes," High Admiral Harsekk replied to Obi-Wan's query. "We're starting him out against flight cadets; the skill level will go up for each new ship." There was a pause, then: "Do you really think he can do this?"

"Sarn is an excellent pilot, there's no doubt there. . . . He's only had a little experience with starfighters, but he's definitely got the skill."

Harsekk looked only half believing. "We'll see about--"

Her voice was cut off by a beeping. Both Obi-Wan and the admiral's gazes shot to a holo display of the simulated battle. Sarn had already knocked out his first foe.

"Not bad," said Harsekk dryly as another fighter appeared on the display.

* * *

The sleek, gray-hulled X-80 shot toward Sarn, its lasers blazing. The Bothan, piloting a ship of the same type, calmly deked around the fire. It was so easy, he realized with a bit of surprise. He didn't even have to think about it; he could feel where the incoming shots were going and how he could avoid them.

Just like Master Kenobi had told him.

As the range closed, the other pilot dove down and to starboard. Sarn followed, zeroed in his targeting brackets, and squeezed the trigger. And just like that, the other fighter exploded.

<I'll continue this later. And it won't take three weeks this time!>

 

Good post, keep it up.

 

Obi-Wan suppressed a chuckle as he glanced over at High Admiral Harsekk's slack-jawed face. The effort was probably not necessary; the Republic Navy's Supreme Commander's eyes were clearly glued to the holo display of the ongoing simulation. Sarn's long string of apparently easy victories had rendered her speechless.

The Jedi reached out through the Force to touch his young apprentice's mind. Sarn was still calm, fairly relaxed, although signs of weariness were beginning to show. But that was probably to be expected, considering that he had been in non-stop starfighter combat for a time of half an hour and rising.

* * *

The exercise was very nearly ended by the shot from behind. Sarn, concentrating on eliminating the fighter in front of him, had lost focus on its wingmate, and he paid the price when his shields dropped suddenly to below fifty percent charge. More simulated energy beams lanced in, but they encountered only vacuum as Sarn rocketed up and to port. He followed this with a barrel roll, then dove back down and between the two remaining craft of the trio he had been tasked with destroying. Both ships raced in to get on his tail, but they had been too eager. With a toothy smile, the Bothan reversed throttle and watched his opponents shoot by him. They tried to imitate the maneuver, but were too late. The closer X-80 was blown into shrapnel by a volley of lasers. Its companion was rocked by collateral damage; finishing off the wounded starfighter was now child's play. Sarn increased his shield recharge rate as he watched the explosion and began the wait for his next foes.

It was not a long one. Four starfighters--he'd gotten through the three-on-ones!--dropped out of hyperspace in tight formation just two klicks away. It was obvious they meant business; the quartet entered firing range and opened up their lasers within seconds. Sarn let loose a few blasts, then went into a dizzying series of evasive maneuvers as a full barrage shot toward him. The fighters were quickly past him, and he re-oriented his own ship as they split off into two pairs to attack him from opposite directions.

Sarn veered off toward one of the groups, firing as he went. The two fighters turned in and charged toward him, unhindered by his shots. He just couldn't get a lock-on in the face of the unrelenting lasers streaming toward his ship. They came closer, closer--Sarn cut his throttle, and warnings began to sound as enemies converged on him from both directions. A shot impacted against his shields, then another--the fighters came closer still--

Use your instincts.

Sarn did so, not taking time to think as he rocketed forward and out of harm's way. From behind him an explosion came. He glanced at his sensors. . . .

Two of the incoming ships had collided! Sarn let out a gleeful whoop, but another pair remained. He entered a tight turn, got one in his sights, squeezed the triggers--

Suddenly, everything went black.

* * *

"So what do you think?" asked Obi-Wan, his voice measured.

It took a few seconds for Harsekk to reply. She turned, slowly, to meet his gaze, and finally said, "That was . . . quite impressive. I certainly didn't expect him to last that long. Those last four were among the top pilots of Home Fleet--and he took out three of them! Still, I'm not sure about this. He has no real combat experience. . . ."

"Of course, you must make this decision yourself. But may I remind you of what we're up against here." The Sith. There was no need to mention the name explicitly.

"Of course." For nearly a minute, High Admiral Harsekk remained silent, deep in thought. It would be easy to subtly alter her mind . . . but Obi-Wan did not even consider doing this. She was the one who could best decide this matter, he knew, and he could only hope that whichever choice she made turned out to be the best one.

"Well, he would still need some training, and there's not a lot of time. . . ." Harsekk said finally. "But to be honest, none of our pilots really have that much com

 

up

 

up

 

Wow! Great post!

 

top this

 

up

 

What if I'm not ready?

Keiran Foranoll stared blankly across the Republica cityscape and toward the blazing sunset. Shapes moved across his field of vision, sounds filtered into his ears, but it was all a blur. Standing on the edge of a rooftop, a kilometer above the ground, the young Jedi was consumed by his inner thoughts.

What if I'm not ready to face the Sith?

The battle was coming, only a few days now until departure, and he could not put these feelings to rest. They were irrational, he knew--Obi-Wan thought he was ready, and there was no better judge alive! But still . . . he had fought the Sith Master once, and failed. He had nearly fallen to the dark side of the Force, become an agent of evil. The delicate balance of the galaxy could have been tipped in the wrong direction by his foolish action.

But he knew now, in his mind and his heart, what he had done wrong. He could never turn to the dark side--think of Master Nonen's sacrifice, of what Master Skywalker would do, of the effect it would have on . . . on all the Jedi. He had prepared for this time, been given the best training available, and there was no reason he could not do it. Yet . . .

The sun disappeared under the horizon, and a chill wind whipped through Keiran's hair. Instinctively, he pulled his robes tight against his body to ward off the sudden feeling of cold.

Yet there was still something missing.

"Keiran?"

A familiar presence. He had been too deep in thought for its approach to register in his conscious mind. Keiran turned to see Andiell, her brown robes and auburn hair flowing in the wind, coming toward him from the roof entrance. "What is it?"

"Just . . . just wondering what you're doing up here." There was an almost palpable sense of uneasiness hanging in the cool air. It seemed as if Andiell was holding something back, deep down inside her.

"I was thinking." Keiran explained tersely.

Andiell's blue eyes flashed as she replied. "About?"

"You know . . ."

For a few long seconds, the only sounds were the wind and the distant roars of airspeeder engines. Then Andiell sighed. "The battle."

"Yes. I'm . . ." Keiran looked away briefly, a diving stelhawk catching his eye. He hated to admit this, especially . . . "I'm worried."

"Worried? Well, I won't deny that I am too. But why you, Keiran? You're plenty good at fighting." There was just a hint of bitterness in Andiell's last words, and Keiran could see visions of carnage in her eyes.

"Hey, I--well, you're not bad yourself." This brought a small grin to the young woman's face. "It's just . . . the Sith Master. I don't know if I can face him again."

"It's all right. We all have to face our--fears. And Master Kenobi will be there."

"Yes, he will."

Andiell took a few steps forward to stand beside Keiran, and both gazed silently into the distance for some time. Then the female Jedi gestured down to the building under their feet. "You know what they're doing down there?"

Keiran could sense it. Minds, intensely concentrating on their individual tasks at hand. Some practicing battle skills, others making plans . . . "They're getting ready," he said.

"Yes. We have to be ready too. And I'm sure . . . I'm sure you'll be fine."

"I know," Keiran replied. "You will too." But inside, he was not truly sure of his own readiness. He could feel a vague sensation, telling him that there was something he lacked.

The two Jedi turned as one and walked back to the roof entrance as night fell on Republica.

 

I think they like each other. Great post!

 

The first thing H'tashi Taurin noticed when she exited the shuttle was the smell. It was certainly not overpowering, but a strange mix of unidentifiable odors nonetheless clawed unpleasantly at her nostrils. So this is it, the Togorian Jedi thought, looking around as she made her way slowly across the landing platform. Coruscant.

"Home again." H'tashi glanced over at Tae Sorian, who walked beside her. The smell did not seem to have an effect on the smuggler; he had probably grown used to it through years of residing here. H'tashi wrinkled her nose at the thought.

"So, eh . . . is the whole planet like this?" she asked.

"Pretty much," Tae replied grimly. "I can't say I missed it."

"No," said H'tashi, her eyes moving to the distant horizon. As on Republica, the view was literally full of buildings. But instead of shining grandeur, these ones were visions of decay. The tops of several of the skyscrapers were crumbling, and on the nearer buildings it was evident that windows were frequently cracked or missing.

And there was just a dirtiness to the whole place. H'tashi could not imagine anyone voluntarily living here, but many did not have much of a choice. She pawed at her new lightsaber before turning back to her companion.

"We don't have much time to waste. We had better get this plan of yours going. So where to from here?"

"I figured we'd start at an old watering hole I know. It should be about a half-hour's air-taxi trip away."

* * *

When they entered the bar, Tae was immediately struck by its emptiness. There were a few people there, but--

"Tae Sorian?!?" exclaimed an astonished voice. Tae's eyes went right to its source, a graying man sitting at a corner table. It was Frens Makovin, an . . . acquaintance of his. I don't know if I'd call anyone I know my friend.

"Yeah, it's me," said Tae, moving toward the table. "I'm back."

"You sure are. I thought I'd never see you again." Frens shook his hand, then looked up at the feline form of H'tashi. "And who's this?"

"H'tashi Taurin, Jedi Knight," replied the Togorian.

"Ooh, a Jedi. You must have made some powerful friends while you were gone." The old man took on a wistful look for a moment before saying, "So, tell me, Tae . . . what happened?"

"I was going to ask the same thing of you," replied Tae. "As for me, it's a long story, one I'd be glad to tell you later. But right now we've got more important things to discuss. Whe--where is everyone?"

"They left, those who could. I heard about your ghost ship story, Tae, and I've gotta admit I didn't put much stock in it myself at the time. But it seems you were right. The disappearances continued, and most folks with a way out of the system took it."

Tae shook his head. He had noticed, off-handedly, the unusually small amount of traffic during the trip here, but this . . . It certainly seemed to make his job here tougher.

"Well, to tell the truth, that's the reason I came back. Hasn't anyone tried to do something about this problem?"

"Well, sure," said Frens dryly. "Your little Senate delegation. I guess it didn't go so well, huh?" He chuckled, then said, "But seriously, what could any of us do about it? No one knows what's causing these disappearances, let alone how to stop them."

"I guess you're in luck, then. We do know what's causing them. The Jedi figured it out." Tae gestured toward H'tashi as he said it. "It's the Sith, a group of dark warriors . . . or something like that. I guess they've got a base hidden somewhere in this system. But anyway, the Republic's going to attack in a few days, and I volunteered to see if I could get some help for the battle from the residents here."

"Volunteered?" Frens smiled as he sipped some brandy. "I didn't know you were so altruistic, Tae."

"Well, it was either that or jail time," Tae admitted. "But that doesn't change the fact that I do want this effort to succeed. The Sith have devastated the lives of millions--I've got first-hand experience. They need to be stopped.

"S

 

<g> Great post!

 

Judu Kah could still hardly believe what she was doing.

Preparing to go into battle. It was something she had never thought of in her entire life. Until now, of course. Now everything had changed. The Sith . . . Obi-Wan Kenobi . . . what was she getting herself into? The objective of this attack she was participating in was to eliminate evil. That she could not deny. But violence *was* evil, she had always been taught. And while she would not be wielding a weapon herself, she would be aiding those who did. Helping them to kill--killing could never be justified by her understanding of the Jedi code. Two wrongs did not make a right . . .

But was fighting really a wrong, if for a just cause? On the other side of the room, Varian Deszo and Cilian Dakar were engaged in a mock lightsaber combat. The two young Jedi were the other members of her strike team. *Strike.* The word itself put a bad taste in her mouth. Yet watching the pair, she could detect no dark presence around them. They seemed perfectly in the light, even though they had been trained in those barbarous methods by Obi-Wan Kenobi.

*Why? Why did he have to come here? Everything was perfectly fine until he arrived!* But Judu knew the thoughts were false ones. The resurgence of the Sith was the precursor to Kenobi's return, not the other way around. She remembered well the first time she had met him, on the far-away planet Tatooine. Kenobi had defeated a Sith in combat--but not slaughtered her when she had been rendered defenseless. So perhaps there was a sense of morality in him. Yet everything she had been taught as a girl . . .

Judu shook her head in deep frustration. Try as she might, it was impossible to resolve the issues in her mind. With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the two others in the room, who had just completed an exercise. "Varian. Cilian."

"Yes, Master Kah?" said the human female of the pair as she and her Mon Calamari comrade made their way toward Judu.

"It's--it's getting late. You two ought to get some sleep."

Varian and Cilian bowed their heads, then turned toward the room's exit. As Judu Kah watched them depart, she knew that there would be little rest for her until this was all over.

 

<g> I liked it.

 

Hey I remember this thread! One of my favorites too!


Keep up the great work Jeff!


:-D

 

up

 

Late at night, almost all activity within the Jedi building had subsided. The halls were empty--save for two droids. One walking, the other rolling, they slowly moved along the dim corridors.

"Oh, Artoo," said C-3PO, keeping the volume of his voice producing unit low so as not to wake any sleeping Jedi Knights. "Why does this always happen to us? Hidden away for years, and we are discovered just in time for another galactic war? I believe we must have been cursed with an incurable case of bad luck."

R2-D2 beeped a query, to which Threepio replied, "Yes, I do know what Master Kenobi would say about luck! But he is only human, you know, and humans, by their nature, cannot always be correct about things. Oh dear--I still cannot fully comprehend how he is--alive."

The little astromech's reply was that there were some things droids could not understand, and with that Threepio could not disagree. Yet he would not give up his assertion that he had been somehow frowned on by fate--although that itself was a concept strange to his logic circuits.

Five centuries ago, the protocol droid had been caught, more than a few times, in the violence of the Rebellion against the Empire. He had played prominent rules in several conflicts afterwards before being hidden away in a Jedi Academy storage room. Then he and Artoo were apparently forgotten. As the dust gathered, Threepio spent most of the following years in shutdown mode. He had awoken at self-programmed intervals of time, which became farther and farther apart as on each occasion there was no sign of any organic lifeforms nearby. The droid had gotten a bit lonely during this time, even with Artoo there, but after Keiran Foranoll discovered the pair Threepio had been horrified to learn that the galaxy was once again at war. The Sith had returned, those dark beings--like Darth Vader. Threepio had an odd feeling that he himself had been involved in galactic conflict even before the Rebellion, although his memory banks contained no recollections of such events. And here he was . . .

"Well, Artoo, I certainly hope that they do not require my services during the upcoming battle. I have had quite enough adventure for a simple protocol droid during my lifetime."

Chuckling electronically, Artoo told him not to worry, because--

"Obsolete? Why, I--well, so are you, you rusted, malfunctioning waste receptacle!"

 

<g> Good as always.

 

It was late morning on Coruscant, but none of the sun's light shone down to where H'tashi Taurin stood. As the Jedi looked up toward the sky, the buildings on all sides seemed to stretch up forever. It was like she was at the bottom of an infinitely deep canyon--and naturally, a dark one, too. Everything H'tashi could see was masked by shadows. It seemed to be a fairly well-hidden place, but hiding from the Sith? The Togorian could feel the fur on her back stand up. *For all I know, they're perfectly aware of what we're doing here.*

A highly modified freighter sat in the middle of the clearing. Several workers and droids crawled over it, welding on sensors, weapons, and anything else that could help in the battle. H'tashi was no mechanic; she could merely observe the operations. Tae Sorian stood beside her.

"Looking good, guys," he called to the crew. A Rodian looked up, nodded, then went back to concentrate on the tool he held in his green hand. "Now let's get this one finished; we've got more ships to work on."

The enhancements to the vessel went on in earnest. After a few moments, Tae turned to H'tashi. "We've got people doing this all over the planet. If everything goes well, we should have a pretty sizeable fleet. No capital ships, but a lot of transport and fighter-class, at least."

"How much of the population actually remains here, do you think?" H'tashi asked.

"Oh, the vast majority, I'm sure. . . . Problem is, most of them are too poor to contribute anything to this effort. The people who have left make up a small percentage of the population, but a large percentage of the planet's wealth. Fortunately, there were so many here to begin with that we've still been able to scrounge up a good number of space-worthy vessels. Still, I wish there were more."

"We've got to work with what we've got, I suppose," H'tashi replied. She had wondered how billions of people could have evacuated a planet in a matter of weeks. It was apparent that that was not what had actually happened. Perhaps only a few million or less had actually fled, but most who remained simply had no choice in the matter. It was sad--

Out of the corner of her eye, there was movement. H'tashi quickly locked her gaze onto a young human child. Dressed in rags, his face dirty, the boy crept along the clearing's edge. A pitiful sight, to be sure, and H'tashi could not help but feel for the child.

Suddenly, he realized that he was being watched. And just like that, the poor boy scurried away and was gone.

*There's so much suffering in the galaxy. I'm a Jedi; I should be helping people like that. But how?*

Pondering over this, H'tashi quickly came to a conclusion.

If her coming to Coruscant helped bring down the Sith, it would help everyone here. Perhaps they would not become instantly prosperous, but it would lift the shroud of fear, give them new hope in life. Then things would be bound to improve in time. There was no better way for her to fulfill her role as a Jedi Knight.

 

great post. up

 

"Three, slide port, Four, to starboard."

The two X-80 starfighters obeyed Sarn Zor'sya's commands just in time to avoid a sudden barrage of laserfire. Four more X-80s raced toward them--and right into the targeting brackets of Sarn and Iota Two, his wingmate. Each launched a pair of missiles, and in seconds the battle was won.

"Good job, Iota Squad," Sarn said into his comm as the simulated remains of his opponents dissipated into nothingness. His three squadmates--or, to be more accurate, the three pilots under his command--shared congratulations with each other. They were well deserved; each had flown more than adequately in their victory. But Sarn knew that he had been the deciding factor in the dogfight. With his grasp of the Force, he could give commands in response to events split-seconds *before* they occurred. In starfighter combat, that advance warning could be the difference between life and death. Sarn had never been in command of a fighter squadron until three hours ago that day, nor had he made any great strides toward becoming a Jedi Knight. It seemed, however, that that did not matter. He felt so *right* doing this. *I have found my life's calling,* the Bothan thought at that moment. Yes, this was what he was meant to do--fly for the Republic, leading pilots into battle to protect the innocent sentients of the galaxy. When he had been in lightsaber training, Master Kenobi had said he was trying too hard. But when he was at the controls of a spaceship, the Force flowed effortlessly. It was like piloting actually augmented his connection to the mystical energy field. It was a wonderful sensation.

Sarn pushed up the cover on his simulator and stepped out into a bright white chamber. The other seven pilots who had participated in the mock engagement were already there. Four were clustered on the other side of the room, while the other three Iota members approached Sarn with grins on their faces.

"Nice job, Lead," said Iota Three, a female Falleen. Her name--*Shenta Xizeen, that's it.* The green-skinned pilot gave Sarn a hearty pat on the back.

Iota Two, a human female named Jen Horddan, and Four, a male Sullustian called Mien Lorn, nodded their agreement. "The Sith will never know what hit them when we arrive," said an enthusiastic Jen. Sarn was about to reply when another voice cut him off.

"Not bad, rookie." The words themselves seemed harmless, but the tone was menacing. Sarn turned to see a human male approaching from the other foursome, his three squadmates following. The man looked older than most of the pilots Sarn had met.

"Thanks," Sarn replied casually, if a bit nervously, when the other pilot had stopped less than a meter away. "I'm Sarn Zor'sya. . . . You?"

"I know who you are," was the gruff reply. "And you can call me Gunner. I'm the commanding officer of Home Fleet's starfighter squadrons."

Sarn nodded slowly. *So that's why he's in a bad mood.* It was understandable, to a certain extent. This guy was supposed to be the boss, and now Sarn had arrived, younger than him and with no combat experience, to take over his job. And to top that off, he'd just defeated *Gunner* in a sim. The resentment was not too surprising. "Nice to meet you," the Bothan replied at last.

"You too," the human replied, obviously not meaning it. "And good luck commanding." He grinned, not in a nice way, and took a dramatic pause before adding, "You're gonna need it."

 

Heyyy...Still good.

Keep up!

~Darklighter~

 

That was great!

 

Up

 

Space around the planet Republica seemed cluttered with Navy vessels. Frigates, corvettes, and cruisers alike drifted across a starry background, along with smaller auxiliary craft which shuttled crews back and forth between the warships. Republic High Admiral Serra Harsekk, sitting in her command chair on the Peacekeeper-class cruiser Alderaan VII, watched the scene with a frown. Those ships were spectacular in appearance, with gleaming hulls, but their exteriors only served to hide what was inside. The Republic Navy was an aging one; most of the vessels out there had been around for a decade or more. They were in top condidition, having seen little or no combat, but if the enemy fleet was equipped with newer technology--better engines, weapons, shields, and sensors . . .

Bad things might happen. And Serra's soldiers could hardly be deemed experienced, either. That was what happened in a long period of peace. *You just hope it doesn't end when you're around,* she thought. *I guess I was unlucky.* The Republic would probably be able to outnumber the Sith, at least, but there was no way to know for sure, and the admiral was not feeling extremely optimistic.

*This train of thought won't help anything!* Serra knew she was right, and tried to shift her mind to something more pleasant . . . such as Sarn Zor'sya. That was one of the rare bright spots that had come about in the battle preparation. The Bothan was making extraordinary progress, giving a completely unexpected resource to the Republic fleet. He had won some, lost some in his practice engagements as a commander--the wins were rapidly becoming more common. It would be preferable not to have such a green pilot in such a high position, but the kid was incredible. He would surely bring up the Republic's odds a notch.

*Now if only we had a bunch more people like that.* A bunch more Jedi who could suddenly take on command positions in the fleet? Not very likely . . .

Four X-80 starfighters zipped past the bridge viewport. Serra followed them with her eyes until they were out of sight, then glanced down at a chrono. 1800 hours--

Her comm pinged. *Right on schedule.* The admiral pressed a button, and a holographic image of the Twi'lek Admiral Dib Sarcova appeared before her.

"Admiral Sarcova," said Serra, her gaze meeting the holographic visage of her subordinate. "How go the preparations at Kuat?"

Sarcova, the commanding officer of the Navy's Kuat fleet, replied crisply. "We have sixty-two percent combat readiness, Ma'am. Current estimates are that all vessels, except for corvettes Gabriel and Cossin and frigate Justice, will be set for departure at the deadline."

*Except.* It should be every single ship, but that was just the way the military was these days. "Very well, Admiral. Reports from the Corellian fleet are similar. We are set to rendezvous in the Coruscant system"--Serra paused, briefly looking down at a display screen--"in 71.9 standard hours."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Thank you, Admiral Sarcova. Have you anything else to report?"

"Not at the moment," replied the Twi'lek. "But . . . I have to say, Ma'am, I'm eager to get out there and fight these guys."

Serra nodded. "I just hope your crews feel the same way."