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Saga - ST In Another World

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction- Before, Saga, and Beyond' started by the-505th, Dec 31, 2019.

  1. the-505th

    the-505th Jedi Youngling

    Registered:
    Dec 28, 2019
    Hi everyone! This is pretty much my first journey into fanfiction. This is essentially just how my vision of the sequel trilogy would be, a sort of fun AU I’ve been toying with in my head for awhile. I haven’t written much of anything in awhile, so any feedback is appreciated! I hope you guys enjoy. The Journal of Whills quote is from the Force Awakens, as since that was the beginning of the ST, this is the beginning of whatever this will turn out to be.


    “First comes the day
    Then comes the night.
    After the darkness
    Shines through the light.
    The difference, they say,
    Is only made right
    By the resolving of gray
    Through refined Jedi sight.”


    JOURNAL OF THE WHILLS, 7:477


    Sometimes Rey dreams of a dark throne.

    The throne is hewn from a rough, dark grey stone, all jagged edges and spikes. She never sees the room it’s set in, but the throne seems to be lit constantly by white hot flashes of lightning, throwing the stone into stark relief. It’s on the bad nights that she sees herself upon it, just quick flashes, a dark hood shadowing her face- except the eyes. The irises glow an insidious orange. Her mouth is curved into a cold, unfeeling smile. She’ll awaken with a scream, dripping sweat, and her mind will be dwelling on the image for the rest of her day. Even through the work.

    Rey was a slave, no more, no less; a forgotten soul who was nothing more than expendable labor for unfeeling overlords. She spent countless hours a day striking stone walls for the spice mineral within the Kessel Mines. From her understanding, she’d been doing this for three years. And three years is about how long it takes for the raw spice to finally overwhelm the bodies’ systems. Rey would be dead soon. She often wondered if the dreams were the result of the spice mining, her body in its death throes, slowly fading.

    She was marched into her sector, the bonds around her wrist cutting into her flesh. The dusty corridors were filled with underfed slaves, striking at the stone walls, trying to uncover the precious veins of spice. She was pushed into her place by the guards, who shoved a vibroaxe into her hands and walked away to assume their posts at the entrance. Rey looked around at those who were already working; she caught the eyes of a Twi’lek named Atran. Rey nodded.

    They would be escaping today.


    ***


    The Wookie let out his loudest roar yet as the Falcon shook, the unstable maelstrom shaking the old ship. Chewbacca worries it would break the ship apart.

    “She’s done the run before, she’ll do it again!” Han Solo shouted over the din, desperately keeping one hand on the wheel as he flipped all manner of switches. Chewbacca roared once more, and Han shook his head. “Positive thoughts, Chewie! Positive thoughts!” The Wookie shook his head, but continued copiloting. A signal went off on the console, indicating an incoming comm signal. Han patched it through, and a flickering blue hologram appeared.

    “Captain Solo, have you reached the objective yet?” Said General Leia Organa, her arms behind her back, but her face betraying some amusement.

    “A little busy here, Princess!” He shouted, as the Falcon quaked yet again, raining sparks on the console.

    “I’ll take that as a no. Surely a captain could complete the job...?” Leia continued prodding at Han, who could only point at the hologram in frustration. Chewbacca roared in the negative- at least, Captain Han Solo couldn’t complete it.

    “Don’t encourage her!” Han chastised his copilot, who belted out the Wookie equivalent of a laugh.

    “Han, remember, you’re the Fleet’s light in this maelstrom. Get there, set the beacon, wait for assistance. No rushing in.” Leia said earnestly, giving him a meaningful glare.

    “Yeah, ‘course. What else would I do?”

    With a final shudder, the Falcon cleared through the misty gas of the Maelstrom. Han took a moment to look at the planet before him, dwelling on the memories that flooded forth. He was such a different person, last time he came to Kessel. Now all that was left of that crew was him and Chewie and Lando, and even then Han wasn’t sure what Lando was up to. With a sigh, he flipped a few switches.

    “Beacon’s up, Chewie. Guess we wait here, huh?”


    ***


    Rey counted each strike at the wall. She’d never done it before, but for some reason, today, she felt she should know how many strikes she made in her final day as a slave. There was precious little in her life that she could remember; she needed to remember this detail.

    Two hundred and forty five.

    The guards had gotten lazy; the last rebellion had been quelled easily, and the only reason Rey hadn’t been part of it was because she didn’t know. It would be easy. Strike with the axes, run. The other slaves would revolt as well. Find the cargo bay, commandeer a transport. It was deceivingly easy.

    Two hundred and forty six.

    She was sweating now; a miracle due to the lack of fluids she was provided to drink.

    Two hundred and forty seven.

    The axe was light in her hands; it felt like an extension of her. She could feel where, precisely to strike at the wall, where it’s weakest point was to easier cut into it.

    Two hundred and forty eight.

    It was almost time. Her breathing was heavy now.

    Two hundred and forty nine.

    She had only one hope.

    Two hundred and fifty.

    She hoped that Atran, at least, could survive and escape.

    Two hundred and fi-

    There was the shrill blast of laser fire; Rey spun around, axe at the ready, only to see one of the guards fall to the ground, dead. The other guard raised his smoking blaster up, and yelled triumphantly.

    “FOR THE REPUBLIC! FOR FREEDOM!”

    The mine shook; Rey felt a sting as her electric collar unlocked with a buzz and fell. She looked around to see the same happening with the rest of the slaves; her eyes fell on Atran, and they shared a smile. Gripping her axe and bringing it above her head, she let out a scream, and her fellows followed in kind. They rushed for the doors.


    ***


    “Deja vu, huh Chewie?!” Han shouted, blaster firing rapidly as the guards tried to get at them. Armored Republic soldiers were making headway into the caves, trying to quell the swelling number of freed slaves while dealing with the guards trying to keep their investment safe. Han smiled when they went for the machine blasters; definite deja vu. Chewbacca roared a battlecry, his bow caster sending enemies flying several meters away.

    “Let’s get these caverns cleared! The slaves are number one priority!” Han shouted; he looked up as the medtransports began their descents. “Make sure they get to the medtransports!” Commander Pryde signaled to his troops to follow Han’s orders (as if they wouldn’t, Han thought drily). As the fighting retreated into the caverns, Han and Chewbacca followed.

    Han nearly choked instantly on the dusty atmosphere, wondering why the hell he hadn’t worn a mask. He took a sudden turn into a cavern that the troops had apparently neglected, hopping over a dead guard; one popped out from behind a cart, but Han had already shot a bolt; the guard fell quick. Chewbacca roared, indicating that it looked like the guards were focused on the troops.

    “Looks that way. No slaves though, which is very stra-“

    Han felt a rush of something like a strong wind, and his ears popped when the air pressure changed; he heard something like blaster fire, but it was oddly distorted. He looked in the direction of the sound, to find a guard pointing his gun at him. There were still red sparks sprouting from the barrel, as if time was slowed, and the blaster bolt, far too close to Han for comfort, hung in the air between them.

    Turning in the other direction, Han saw a girl not much older than twenty standard years. Her eyes were wide, and her hand was reaching out, trembling.

    “Han Solo,” she said, her voice shaking with exertion. “It’s an honor to meet you. My name is Rey.”
     
    Findswoman likes this.
  2. Cowgirl Jedi 1701

    Cowgirl Jedi 1701 Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Registered:
    Dec 21, 2016
    I'm liking this AU. This is legit multiverse right here.
     
    the-505th likes this.
  3. the-505th

    the-505th Jedi Youngling

    Registered:
    Dec 28, 2019
    Han got a handle on his shock, blasting the frozen guard and moving out the the way of the bolt. The girl visibly relaxed, and the blaster bolt struck the wall in a shower of sparks. She seemed exhausted my the effort, but she was still standing her ground. Han was about to ask what her business here was, but it was pointedly clear what her station here was; the ragged clothing, the unwashed skin. Behind her, a whole group of slaves cautiously walked out from behind cover, eyes widening at the sight of Han and Chewbacca. Rey looked round at a purplish Twi’lek woman, who smiled reassuringly at her.

    “We’re here to liberate you all.” Han said simply, eyes on the slaves but mind elsewhere. He’d found a force sensitive... but in this political climate, that wasn’t much of a victory. The image of a dark haired child crossed his mind, but he swept it away with practiced ease. “One of the guards sympathetic to the Republic had tipped us off as to the resurgence of this operation. As far as you all are concerned, you are free! You all have a new future in the Republic. Stick together, watch each other’s backs, and follow me!”

    ***

    Rey smiles through her exhaustion, hoping she wasn’t just delirious. Han Solo and Chewbacca, heroes of the Republic, arrived to liberate them. On the same day she planned to escape, no less. She leaned on Atran, eyes fluttering.

    “We’re free,” she said happily. “After all this time, friend. Free.”

    Her eyes shut.

    ***

    The Twi’lek was screaming for help; but Han had no choice but to keep moving. The Pyke forces had arrived in force, and he was leading the final group of slaves they had found. The Republic troops were undergoing heavy fire by that point, and there wasn’t much more time to get the slaves out before the final assault on the Pyke’s mine began.

    His blaster struck quick and true; the Pykes were much more well armored than the guards, but even then the plasteel triweave gave in to Han’s precise fire. Pryde was shouting orders over the comms; the Republic troops were attempting to box the enemy into the mines.

    The Falcon was within sight; Han picked up his pace, while Republic troopers directed the slaves to the medical transports. Han took a look around for the force sensitive girl; the Twi’lek was yelling something at one of the troopers as she carried the- hopefully - unconscious body. Not allowing himself to dwell, Han fired a few more cover shots, before running up the ramp into the Millennium Falcon.

    “Chewie!” He yelled, drawing the ramp up. The ship began humming, the floors trembling slightly. Han noted that with a dull pain; yet another check up would be required. They were getting too frequent.

    Dropping into his pilot chair and flipping on comms, Han and Chewbacca began bringing the ship upwards.

    “Let’s get these medtransports out of here!” He yelled. The transports began rising as well; the Falcon shuddered as it prepared to launch through the atmosphere. Han flopped a lever, and the Falcon quaked; Han looked at Chewbacca. The Falcon didn’t do that.

    “They have anti air blasters! They’ve destroyed a medtransport!” Pryde roared over comms. Han felt hot anger creeping in his blood. Those bastards...

    “We gotta get out of here! Let’s get going!” The Falcon began shooting up into the atmosphere, sparks flying from the console.

    Han noted on a holodisplay that five medical transports followed; short of the original six.

    ***

    A sleek vessel, its hull a black that seemed impossibly deep, deeper than any paint, made its descent onto a flagged stone landing pad. The burning orange light of Korriban seemed to absorb into the paint. The ramp opened with a hiss and a shot of steam, and a tall and imposing figured clad in metallic red armor stepped out onto the stone. The soldiers blaster was bolstered, yet their hand rested on it. A black and red pauldron on the right shoulder denoted their status. The red symbol cut into it was the sigil of the First Legion; The Blessed Dark, The Black Hole, Revan’s Hate. The soldier indicated to two others to begin refueling procedure with a short yet dismissive wave of their hand.

    “It will be done, Commander Phasma.” They both said with heads bowed. Commander Phasma entered the foreboding castle.

    The walk through the ancient corridors was always the same. Every few meters, red armored troopers stood against the walls, blasters in hand. Between them, statues of glassy black korï memorialized luminaries of the Sith. Phasma stopped a moment, kneeling at one particular statue; a golden plaque set into the base displayed, proudly, the name DARTH REVAN.

    Phasma continued their walk, before coming to a massive door also made of korï. Standing beside it, two hulking troopers in armor of black and red stood guard. They nodded at Phasma.

    “He’s expectin’ you, Phasma. Hope you delivered.” One trooper said. Phasma resisted the urge to blast him in the heart.

    The door slid open slowly, revealing a cavernous room. At the end, a large window allowed the everpresent orange light to filter in. The room was bare, save for the center.

    A man sat upon a red crystal plinth, his head bowed and legs crossed. Upon the platform were six instruments, perfectly spaced, save for two gaps. Around the plinth, figures similarly clad in dark armor were kneeling around him. He lifted his head at Phasma’s entrance; yet those who surrounded him didn’t move an inch. Phasma kneeled before him.

    “Supremus Ren, my Master.” She said simply. The Supremus gave something like a laugh, deep and resonant, though his helmet betrayed no emotion.

    “Phasma, my best soldier. I can already sense your success. Please, present it.” He reaches his hand out; Phasma’s hand moved to the back of her belt, with a click, removed an ancient and jagged dagger, etched with Sith symbols. She gave it to the Supremus, who lifted it closer to his helmet to inspect it. He sighed, as if in relief. He placed the dagger down, filling the gap next to him. There was still one more gap in the circle of artifacts.

    “So much closer, Phasma. So much closer. Excellent job, Commander.”

    “Thank you, Supremus. It is an honor to serve you.” Phasma spoke evenly and unemotionally. She raised her head to look at him. “We also found three force sensitives. They are being wiped, and will be ready to serve in the ranks of the troopers by the end of the month.”

    “Excellent! Excellent indeed. My Knights shall lead our troops to victory, Phasma. Can you feel it?”

    And yes, Phasma did feel it.

    ***

    A solitary figured stomped over the deadened ground of Vek, hood drawn over his head. The silvery sun was setting on the horizon; further up, the massive golden rings that surrounded the planet were visible. The man hopped down a short drop, hand clinging tightly to some sort of pyramid shaped device. It was glowing red, and if one were close enough, it whispered.

    “Oh, how perfect would it be...” It said in an insidious voice that seemed to change with each word. It wasn’t any one voice; it was many.

    The man was diligently ignoring it; he had another two planets to go to by the end of the week. He had no time for the whispers of a Sith holocron.

    “The power, my friend... oh, the power...”

    The man’s eyes focused on something, just over a hill. It was a T-Sixty Five X-Wing; age had chipped away at the paint, but the man found it as reliable as ever. As he drew closer, a white and blue astomech droid chirped, happy to see him. The holocron laughed.

    “Give in to the dark side, Luke Skywalker.”
     
  4. Kit'

    Kit' Manager Emeritus star 5 VIP - Former Mod/RSA

    Registered:
    Oct 30, 1999
    Cool start and awesome twist with that last sentence!


    Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
     
    the-505th likes this.
  5. the-505th

    the-505th Jedi Youngling

    Registered:
    Dec 28, 2019
    Kylo was dreaming again.

    He could see his mother, older than the last time he’d seen her, as she looked out of a window and allowed her pain to crush her. He could his father looking at a holopuck of a happy boy striking a pseudo heroic pose with a training saber. For one moment, one fleeting instant, he wished to reach out to them.

    He was back in the mental castle now; the Supremus had taught him the trick. A mental structure to lock away memories and thoughts, and Kylo watched as slowly, the wall reassembled over the the images of his family. He had no interest in Han and Leia Solo any longer. He pressed his hand against the wall, filling it with dark energy, clouding his mother’s connection to the Force. If she sensed him, their plans would fail; if she sensed him, their strike could never work. Removing his hand from the wall, Kylo took a moment to compose himself. Any moment now, they would arrive at Ilum. He had precious little time, yet his walk through the dark and misty corridors of his mind was deliberate and paced carefully. He required perfect control to do this; it was damn near a miracle that it was happening now out of sleep.

    He arrived at a mural painted into the stone. It was the propaganda image of the New Republic; a stylized painting of Luke Skywalker, clad in his black Jedi Knight jumpsuit, the flag of the Rebellion hanging from his belt as he struck a defensive pose with his emerald bladed lightsaber. Kylo places his hand over the heart of the painted hero, and closed his eyes. The wall crumbled away to a vortex of multicolored energy, and the haze formed into a shimmering image.

    Luke was older now than he had been in the mural; his hair was long and he had grown a scruffy beard, and the blond had given way to steel grey. His black Jedi jumpsuit was now in tones of beige, potentially the same one he had worn when training Kylo; it certainly looked like it had been through hell. The hood of cloak was drawn up. Kylo pushed his hand further outward, and more of the image resolved. Luke was in a forest of dark and singed trees, and the ground was covered in a layer of grey ash. The sky was scarlet and stormy.

    Luke was on Mustafar.

    Kylo allowed himself a smile; they’d already been there. They had recovered an enclosed chalice filled with an oil-like liquid from deep within the vaults of Vader’s Castle. Luke was five steps behind them, at least. Kylo relaxed his hand, but the image didn’t fade. He tilted his head, eyebrows knitting together.

    “Close.” He said with command. He thought he’d moved past verbal commands with this mind structure.

    “You can’t close it, Ben.” Said the all too familiar voice; and Luke turned, his eyes meeting his nephew’s. Kylo took a step back. “A powerful trick, Ben, but not one reserved only for the Sith. I felt you watch before, but now is the time for me to deconstruct your illusion.” Kylo felt rage seeping into his blood; his body was a mere mental representation of his physical presence, yet he still felt like reaching for his lightsaber and striking at his uncle.

    “It’s too late now, Skywalker. We’re already ahead of you!” Kylo said with as much conviction as he could muster; but Luke only smirked.

    “Quick to believe what your visions show you, Ben.” Luke raised his hand, palm upwards. The backdrop of Mustafar faded into the hangar of a ship; and within Luke’s palm, a pyramid shape shimmered into being. “A potent, and Dark, artifact. My father no doubt kept it so he could feed off of its darkness; in fact, I’ve never felt a holocron giving off this much power.”

    Kylo’s hands shook with anger. He felt like a coiled snake, preparing to strike with deadly intentions-

    “I will see you again Ben; but when it will be in person, not through your easily manipulated vision.”

    Luke faded away, and with a roar of anger, Kylo awoke. The Night Buzzard was flying through hyperspace, which meant the other Knights were likely locked in a meditation. Kylo stormed through the hallways, his heavy breathing loud enough even for his helmet to modulate it. He opened the door the meditation room to find the Knights sitting in a circle, silent. He didn’t care to let them sense his presence.

    “Skywalker has the holocron. He knows!”


    ***


    Finn Codona could only scream, voice raw and scratchy. Three hands were reaching out to him, pressing in on his mind, bringing forth every bad memory, every negative interaction, ever angry thought; he felt as though his head was splitting open, and in a way, he wished it was, the pain was too much, he couldn’t handle anymore-

    And just like that, the hands drew away and the pain was gone. Breathing deeply, Finn watched as a bead of sweat dripped off of his nose and down onto the red stained stone floor. Behind the hooded figures that tortured him, a Sith Trooper in shining red armor paced back and forth.

    “The Supremus knows the way the universe flows; he recognizes the potential power within it; he knows the Republic squanders it. He knows the Jedi squandered it. This is his burden. He must go to war on a galaxy he loves, so he can restore its peace.”

    “Love?” Finn screamed, but his defiance couldn’t last long. He wasn’t sure he could make it through another round. “Love is kidnap and torture and murder?” If his hands were bound, he would attempt to escape. Yet again, the thought of death crossed his mind. It would be far more welcome than whatever these people wanted him for.

    “Again.” Phasma said, and the hands reached out, and he felt the prodding in his mind. He screamed out, but this time it was exertion, his instincts kicking in; suddenly he felt the invisible force that tore at his mind falling back, and the hands before him shook, and the room itself shook as his scream grew louder. He could feel the darkness of their power, but it didn’t interest him; he only needed to defend himself.

    There was the sound of a blaster set to stun, and it all went dark.
     
  6. Hopefulwriter

    Hopefulwriter Jedi Knight star 2

    Registered:
    Jan 6, 2016
    Very nice start to fanfiction. Well written. Interested to read more. Lynda V.
     
  7. WarmNyota_SweetAyesha

    WarmNyota_SweetAyesha Game Host Who Loves Fanfics & RPGs star 7 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Aug 31, 2004
    Fascinating start and twists through time and space!