Saga - PT Saga - OT Rose’s Eleven (Kessel Run Challenge; OCs and possibly others)

Thank you all so much, as always!

Thanks! It was a bit of an experiment, and I wasn’t sure I could pull it off when I started, but hey, these days, when I see fic prompts involving five of anything, I know what to do!

Thank you, I’m so glad you enjoyed seeing them all in action!

Thanks! Again, when I see that number five in a prompt, it (usually) doesn’t take me long to decide what to do. I figured it would be a fun additional challenge to try to make a story out of it, rather than just five separate introspections (though there’s nothing wrong with that). It would be fun to come back to Fya at some point; I definitely see her as being very brave and resourceful to be able to survive the way she did, and her old nest-sister Lua definitely sees it and appreciates it, as someone who’s had to resist the Empire herself! Thanks so much again.

 

4. I Go Seeking

Prompt: Write a story between 100 and 1000 words from the perspective of the Force.
Characters: The Force, various planets, various eras; references to assorted canon characters
Summary: What do I do when I am wounded? I go seeking.

You may know me; I certainly know you. I am always and everywhere present. To me all eternities are now, all ages as passing seconds.

In the living I am felt and known. Life energizes and sustains me. All know that. Disaster and destruction wound me. Fewer know that.

And in this age I have been wounded much.

What do I do when I am wounded? I go seeking.

I hover above the surface of Tatooine’s Dune Sea, scorching sands that once lay at the floor of a teeming ocean. I count each grain as I go; each is a fragment of a shell or scale or bone I knew personally, now pulverized by cataclysm. (On the crest of a dune, two bantha calves gambol in the double sunlight.)

On Lasan, her people devastated and disrupted, I breathe like a prayer over the piled corpses lining the capital’s streets. I trace every crag of the ancient purple-gray rocks, sweeping upward over the cliffs, downward into the valleys, and deepward into the caverns. (A red-violet kreposkolite crystal sparkles in a crevice; from its eyrie in a gnarled aspyn tree a greater whipkillow ascends with a cry.)

On Jedha, once-gemlike moon, only a charred crater remains of my holy city. I walk it like a labyrinth, sifting through my fingers and toes the ashes of my pilgrims, guardians, and temples. I listen; I hear stony silence where the kyber once sang. (A tiny ping pierces the silence; a sliver of blue gleams from the ash.)

Once-majestic Alderaan of the snowcapped mountains and alabastrine towers, of you and your destruction what can I say? My hands caress each of your cold, wandering fragments, more precious than gems. (The stars’ reflected light still travels onward from them, to be seen by future generations of stargazers.)

I skate over the icy lamina of Hays Minor: once mirrorlike, reflective, and pure, now scuffed, broken and dirtied, as gray-black clouds of filth loom above. Diving underground, I am a breeze wafting through each room of the miners’ settlements, ravaged and ransacked. (A rockworm burrows out a nest in a wall. Something glints among the rubble: a jewel dropped by a child.)

And you, Hosnian Prime, once biggest and brightest… oh, I can’t, for of you not even rocks remain. (But your fireball, too, will be seen by those same future generations.)

I have gone seeking on many worlds besides these. (I am on them all even now; to me all times and places are now.) In the seeking is healing: what light I still find in the wounds, I gather to myself. And in the sharing is healing: what light I gather, I place in the hearts of the wounded, to heal them.

Look closely, dear creature of mine, and you will be able to see it—

in the welcome of a desert chieftain,
the honor of the last guardsman,
the callsign of a timid pilot,
the leadership of a renegade princess,
the resolve of an orphaned worker,
the exuberance of a young ace—

—and in you.

fin

Spoiler: Notes

The characters being referred to in the final lines are, in order: the Tusken chieftain from the early episodes of The Book of Boba Fett, Zeb Orrelios, Bodhi Rook, Princess Leia Organa, Rose Tico, and Kaz Xiono—natives of the six planets named, respectively.

The whipkillow, a fanon bird of prey native to Lasan, is the creation of my friend Fuzzydemolitionsquad.

The reference to the light reflected from Alderaan is an homage to @mandyq ’s exquisite The Light from Alderaan.

 

Thank you so much, I try!

Thanks so much! I know a little of the general gestalt of what goes on in the early episodes of BOBF; the Tusken elements sounded very interesting to me, and I was sad to hear that more wasn’t done with them, so I decided to give the chieftain—or at least his memory—a moment to shine here. As to how I chose the characters, they were basically ones I knew had had their homewards destroyed or devastated in some form, either by natural means (as presumably was the case with Tatooine) or by other sentient beings (as was the case for most of the others; see also a similar theme in To Have Survived). I’ve always loved the way the Force is at once distant and universal, and yet always so near and so close, caring and interacting with individual beings and creatures even as it upholds all life in the universe, and that is definitely one thing I tried to portray here by “personifying” it a little. Many thanks again for the comment—much appreciated as always!

No worries at all, I completely understand about RL being a pest—part of why I haven’t gotten my own next entry in before now! So glad you have been enjoying all of these, and particularly the portrayal of the aliens and droids, because it’s important to me, too, that they not just feel like “humans in latex masks” (or metal casings). If you are curious about Trynfor, the Holy Madman, you’ll find more about him in my other Gand stories, where he looms in the background as a figure of combined history and legend to the Gand Findsmen—the long and short of it is that his talent in the Mists was so prodigious, and also so erratic, that it led others to consider him mad (and he may too have suffered from what we now call depression). Many thanks as always for coming by to read—always glad to see you, and I’ve really been enjoying your contributions to the challenge, too!

Yes, and even though it can be in all times and places concurrently, it still cares about every single one individually. Thanks so much for commenting and being here!

Yes, a good way of summing it up! And, again, at the same time, it cares for all things, too. Many thanks again for reading and commenting, as always!

Next installment coming anon...

 

5. A Little Preoccupied

Prompt: Write a story between 600 and 1,000 words with your OTP (or any romantic pairing, canon or otherwise) in which your characters do not touch, and that includes the following sentence: “All things considered, this was an interesting way to wind up in prison.”
Characters: Shulma Trilasha Orrelios (OC, Lasat female), Yhazi Khefastu (OC, Lasat female), Rishla Bontai (OC, Lasat female), Chukwu Mugadro (OC, Lasat male), Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios (EC, Lasat male), Lt. Askleppios (@Raissa Baiard’s OC, Lasat male)
Summary: Shulma’s friends try to cheer her up while Zeb is away on extreme weather conditions training—but there’s more to her feelings of premonition than simply missing her husband. 983 words according to Google Docs.
Thank you to @Raissa Baiard for beta reading and helping make this better!

---

At the Royal Lasat Academy of Shamans on Mount Straga, two female shamans walked the hallways, conversing.

“Yhazi, do you think Shulma is all right?” one of them asked the other.

Her companion cocked her curl-covered head. “All right? Like, beyond her usual lovestruck self?”

“Well, she seems… a little preoccupied.”

“Of course she’s preoccupied, Rishla,” Yhazi laughed. “She and her strrrripey Guarrrrdsman have only been married, like, two seasons and already he’s gone off on extreme weather maneuvers and left her all alone!”

“No, it’s more than that,” said Rishla. “He left more than a tennight ago, and she was fine all that time. But today her currents have been off. Remember how she almost collapsed at morning devotions? Something’s up.”

Yhazi knit her brow. “Hmm, suppose it could be one of her premonition things.” She perked up suddenly. “In which case decisive action is called for.”

“Like what?”

“Like tea and cake at the Overlook Room,” answered Yhazi, grinning. “Sometimes all you need to get the currents back to normal is a change of scene.”

“Well, she’s studying now…”

“Even better!” Yhazi clapped her hands. “She’s probably been cooped up for hours with her First-Age Seers. Let’s go get her!”

---

Later, Yhazi, Rishla, and Shulma were sitting together at the Overlook Room, the senior shamans’ tea room at the Academy. Yhazi, in an attempt to lift Shulma from her distraction, had begun a story.

“Hey, Shulma, did I ever tell you what happened the day I got that honeymoon bag of yours? I went to Smoketown to get all the sexy stuff— quiet, Rishla, where else was I gonna go!— and I was disguised, just in case— wearing one of Yiri’s old athletic suits and my hair stuffed in a softcap, and no ring-medallion. Anyway, I’d gotten the stuff and was coming back— and I got lost! So I walked around and came to this big… fenced field? Which I remembered was to the north, and it’s north to get back to the city. So I climbed over the fence and started walking across. But then two security officers came up and arrested me for trespassing! Because the field was part of this… research station thing? And they took me in, asked me questions, and searched me, and saw the bag of… yeah. And they locked me up! But I just lay down and relaxed. ‘Nice, Khefastu,’ I thought to myself. ‘All things considered, this was an interesting way to wind up in prison.’ At least they let me go home the next day. And now when we ‘Never Have I Ever’ at the healers’ Midstorm’s Eve party— Shulma! You all right?!”

During Yhazi’s story, Shulma had been pensive and silent, occasionally sipping her tea. Now she was gripping her brow ridge in pain. “I’m fine— I’ll just take a pastille—”

Just then, a young male shaman with gentle olive eyes came running to their table. “Chukwu!” exclaimed Rishla. “What’s up?”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt, Rish. I was sent to get Shulma.” Shulma spun to face him. “There’s an urgent message for you at the holostation. Your husband—”

“NO! I knew it!” cried Shulma. She jumped from the table and ran off, leaving Chukwu behind with a nonplussed expression.

“Hey, wait!” Rishla and Yhazi called after her. “We’re coming, too!”

---

Shulma sat in the holostation, her friends beside her. Before her was a pale blue holographic image of a grizzled Honor Guard field medic.

“The captain’s injured, ma’am,” he began. “He fell while out on mountain maneuvers and cracked some ribs. The painkillers are just barely doing the job. He’s been calling for you.”

The holoimage shifted to show Zeb, lying in his infirmary bed. Bacta bindings poked out from under his blanket, and he writhed and groaned in pain. “Shulmaaa… darlinnnn’...”

Shulma gasped and signed the Triangle. “Oh Zeblove… are you… can you hear me?”

“Darlin’... that you…?”

“Yes— yes, love, I’m here… Oh, love, look at you… I knew something was wrong, I felt it in my currents…”

“C’be worse— aaghhh!” A brief grin was followed by another twitch of pain. “Was just tellin’ Askleppios… wish you c’d be here an’ do a ritual, just like way back when I got all scraped up at the Warrior— ghhhk—”

“I wish I could, Zeblove, with all my being— but how? I’m far away…”

Then Yhazi spoke up. “It’s possible,” she said. “It just takes a little extra energy. We’ll help you.”

“All right… er… Lieutenant Askleppios?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Could you please… place your hands on him? One on his chest, one on his ridge?”

Askleppios grimaced quizzically for a moment but replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes, like that. Thank you,” said Shulma. She took her focusing stone from her pocket, held it up, and began a quiet chant. Yhazi and Rishla took out pieces of chalk and drew glyphs on the wall: those of the Honor Guard and the Eight Strengths. This done, they each placed a hand on Shulma’s shoulder and stood perfectly still, joining their currents to hers. In the holograph, Zeb closed his eyes.

Minutes passed, perhaps an hour, perhaps more. All was quiet, except for Shulma’s chant. No one moved except Zeb, who still occasionally twitched— though that, too, subsided as the chant went on. The stone in Shulma’s hand seemed to glow with brighter and brighter red-violet light as Zeb calmed. Finally, he whispered one last “Darlin’…” before his head nodded, and his chest began to rise and fall in the pattern of normal sleep.

“Looks like that did it, ma’am,” said Askleppios at last, astonishment in his voice. “Or did something, anyway. He’s much better already. Just needs rest and he’ll be back to normal.”

“Thank you again.” Shulma’s voice was weary as she leaned on her friends’ shoulders, but she was smiling. “I think I shall rest, too.”

fin

Spoiler: Notes

“that honeymoon bag of yours”: Presented to Shulma by her friends preparatory to her wedding in Our Big Fat Lasat Wedding, chapter 3.

“do a ritual, just like way back when I got all scraped up at the Warrior”: a reference to the events of @Raissa Baiard ’s The Beginning of Honor and my Sleeping Honor, the latter of which is also where I first wrote of this healing ritual. Askleppios appears in The Beginning of Honor (though there he is yet unnamed) and is borrowed with gratitude from Raissa.

Yiri (OC) is Yhazi’s sister. She hasn’t had a speaking role in any of my stories yet, but the “gray-violet-furred First Corporal with curly hair and bright amber eyes” who dances with Shai in The Captain, the H-Goater, and The Voorpak, chapter 3, is very likely her.

 

Don't mind me, just playing a wee bit of catch up.

Just like that, you managed to sink us into the POV of the Force and it felt all sorts of right. You have a knack for this kind of estoteric, creative writing as it is, and this was ten stars out of ten all around.

I really appreciated this line in particular. Because, yes, there is a dark side and a light side to the force, but such wanton destruction is the complete opposite of natural in every way, and the Force has to feel that.

And THIS is where I love how you tied everything together.

A lot of this is just going to be me pointing and flinging heart emojis, but I just have to do it! I loved the idea of the Force seeing each fragment of shell or scale or bone and knowing.

Such beautiful imagery!

And more beautiful imagery!

And this was beautiful, too. I love the idea of light going on endlessly.

And here too!

Gorgeous, all of this! The Force has sought and the Force remembers.

Yhazi has a way of putting things that I just adore!

And that's true friends being there for true friends!

This was a great way of working in the required line of dialogue. Because Yhazi would, and at the same time this helps set up the bigger issues going on with the Empire and Lasan.

!!

Aw! I love how Shulma was able to care for Zeb, even across a distance! This was such a great way to interpret the no touching aspect of the prompt while still working in your fantastic shamanism lore and showcasing just how strong Shulma and Zeb's bond is, no matter how far away from each other they might be.


These were both such fantastic answers to the prompts! I can't wait to see what comes of your collection next.

 

Thanks so much! Shulma’s friends are true friends indeed—with her whenever she needs them, as of course she is for them as well.

He definitely can take a beating! Not that I want him to, of course, because I love him—but he’s made of strong stuff. Thank you so much for the comment!

Ah, with a specifically OTP-centered prompt, you knew where I was going to go! Yhazi and Rishla’s last names are mentioned very briefly in Light of Lasan, chapter 5 (as “Shamans Bontai and Khefastu”)—that chapter has a note explaining the origin of those names, too. So glad you enjoyed this—I’ve had in mind for a little while now to write a story about Yhazi having some kind of silly adventures while going out and getting the honeymoon bag, and the “interesting way to wind up in prison” prompt turned out to provide the ideal impetus! And yes, the Force/Ashla is indeed powerful, and in the hands of someone as powerful as Shulma (if I do say so myself ) it can work over great distances.

No worries at all, please never feel bad about taking whatever time you need in that area! <3

Well, shucks, thanks, I try! I have to say, I was pretty stoked to see this prompt come up!

Exactly. Death in the natural course of things is one thing; wanton destruction perpetrated deliberately by sentient beings is another entirely.

Well, thanks! I try.

It gave life to each of those tiny marine critters and called them by name during their all-too-short lives—and, consequently, it misses each of them, too.

Thanks! The whipkillow is the creation of another excellent Lasat fanonist I know on Tumblr, Fuzzydemolitionsquad, and it was just too beautiful not to use—kind of lent itself to a phoenix-like image of rebirth. <3

Thanks again! It was tough to watch the destruction of Jedha City in Rogue One, especially knowing what a center of the Force it had been, in so many ways.

Here, again, I was indebted to @MandrinaQ ’s The Light from Alderaan—predicated on the amazing (and true) idea that the light of stars and other celestial bodies travels years and years in order to be seen by us, so we are seeing how some (many) stars looked years ago!

Thanks again—I definitely try!

Many thanks again! Yes, it does—because it is memory, almost by definition! I’m so glad you enjoyed this.

She’s got her own style, for sure! Some characters just are like that from day one!

Exactly! Little gestures like that can mean so much.

She definitely was the one who came to mind when I (a) saw the quote and (b) realized that it didn’t have to apply to a member of the OTP! The officers were not originally meant to be Imperials—just some regular Lasat police or security guards guarding some kind of actual research station or some such—but I see where they can be read that way, and am fine with it being ambiguous! (Again, this is why I love my readers—they help me see things in my writing that I did not!)

Yes, that was probably the face Chukwu made, too!

Thanks so much! Their love is strong, the Ashla is strong, and those two strengths are one and the same.

I appreciate that very much! Vi’s prompts have definitely been thought-provoking and challenging like almost none others I’ve had before, and I hope that I can continue to do them justice. Thanks so much once again for reading, enjoying, and being here, as always!

 

Thanks! It’s very important to her to give her utmost to help those she loves, and her friends feel the same way.

Thanks so much! Support almost always comes in networks and not just individuals—it’s all about being people more than the sum of their parts, and every single person plays a role. Askleppios was indeed probably somewhat puzzled at first, but he cares for Zeb too (having known him since Zeb was a cadet), so he’s ultimately more than glad to give his utmost to support him, too.

Oh, she will, and even if her workaholic side tries to get in the way, her friends will make sure she will! (Another very important form of support! )

Thank you both once again!

 

6. HK-47 and the Power of Nonviolent Resistance

Prompt: Write an AU (alternate universe) story of at least 500 words where the moral alignment of one of your characters is the opposite of (or drastically different from) what it is in canon and/or Legends.
Characters: HK-47, Revan (female), assorted KOTOR extras
Summary: In which Revan’s new protocol droid’s strong principles land both of them in trouble.
Notes: This story is set during the KOTOR era (Before—Legends). While I usually prefer to refer to the masked, bantha-riding nomads of Tatooine as Tuskens, I use “Sand People” in this story to match the way they are referred to in KOTOR. Once again, I thank @Raissa Baiard for beta reading.

---

Yuka Laka’s Droid Shop, Tatooine

Revan looked at the HK unit she had just purchased. It was a fairly ordinary-looking protocol model, with plating of a dull bronze color, beady orange optical sensors, and no small amount of rust. But it wasn’t as though there were many other options in this sleepy Tatooine town, and indeed the Ithorian shopkeeper had spoken highly of its abilities in the areas of languages and combat. Revan knew both those skills would come in handy in dealing with the Sand People, whom she would soon have to convince to stop attacking the Czerka Corporation miners working in the area. Naturally, she preferred to start with peaceful negotiation, but if that didn’t work, combat could at least be a useful backup option.

So, walking up to the droid, Revan greeted it with a simple “Hi, there.”

At this the HK unit’s servomotors whirred to life, its optical sensors lit up, and it said, in an almost-monotone synthesized voice: “Statement: I see you have purchased me, master. Declaration: That is a very fortunate state of affairs indeed. Inquiry: May I be your friend?”

Revan found herself a bit tongue-tied. She knew protocol droids were programmed to be personable in their interactions with sentient beings, but this one seemed, well, more so than most. But she didn’t care. With those armor mounts, it clearly was “combat ready,” as Laka had said, and that was the main thing. And with the Czerka situation escalating, beggars (and Beggar’s Canyon) could most definitely not be choosers.

So she said, “Sure, of course.”

---

Sand People Enclave, Tatooine

“Enthusiastic observation: Oh, that must be the chieftain of the Sand People!” exclaimed HK-47 as the enclave guard led him and Revan around a corner into the central court. “Anticipation: I cannot wait to greet him in the spirit of universal sentient amity!”

“That’s fine, HK,” replied Revan, “but let’s keep our eyes on what we came for.”

“Agreement: Gladly and most definitely, master! Optimistic hope: I am confident that we will be able to achieve our objective in a peaceful and amicable manner.”

As the two approached the chieftain, the guard spoke a few words to him in the language of the Sand People, gesturing to Revan and HK. The chieftain turned to them and addressed them in angry, growling tones.

“Exclamation: Oh dear,” said HK during this speech. “Translation: The chieftain demands to know why he should let us survive this encounter, master. Personal observation: His rather… abrupt tone disheartens me greatly. Desire: I was hoping to avoid any adversarial interactions, but…”

Revan sighed. “I was too, HK,” she said, “but we’ve got to do what we’ve got to do. Just carry on and let him know what we want.”

“Assent: Certainly, master.” A series of rasping metallic sounds erupted from HK-47’s vocoder speaker. “Translation: I told him that we wish to be friends.”

“Er…. sounds good?”

The chieftain spoke again, and HK interpreted. “Translation: He wonders what in the name of the Sacred Water we mean by that. He does not see why he and his people should be friends with those who… interjection: oh my, such talk… who trample the ancestral lands with machines and uncaring, ignorant feet.”

“All right, then… and what are you going to tell him now?”

Once again, HK produced the rasping sounds, then turned to Revan. “Translation: I said we earnestly and civilly request that His Supreme Redoubtableness do everything in his power to end the recent acts of violence against Czerka Corporation employees working in this region.”

The chieftain growled something in response, and HK translated. “Translation: He asks why that is any business of ours. Planned response: Because we are committed to the principles of peace and justice and wish for an end to violence everywhere.”

“Yes, sure, but…” Revan gritted her teeth. She was beginning to have a bad feeling about all the pacifistic talk coming from this supposedly combat-ready droid, but there was simply nothing she could do about it. “Fine. Whatever.”

HK turned to the chieftain and spoke again, but before he could get very far the chieftain lunged at him and Revan, brandishing his fists as he shouted at them in tones harsher and angrier than before. As he did, two of his guards ran up, grabbed Revan and HK, and bound their wrists in heavy cord. HK continued translating in hurried tones even as he was being hauled off:

“Translation what is this preposterous talk about principles and nonviolence I don’t have time for this nonsense guards take them away presentiment I have a bad feeling about this master—”

---

Revan blinked and rubbed her eyes. She had fallen asleep in the back corner of the Sand People’s prison cell, simply as a result of sitting there for hours with nothing else to do. The cell was empty—no furniture, no fixtures, no food, no apparent way to escape. In fact, there was nothing else there at all except HK-47, who stood stock still at the opposite side of the cell, facing the door.

And he could stay there at the opposite side, for all Revan cared. She wasn’t very happy with him at that moment, since he was the one who had landed them both in this mess. A fat lot of good those “combat-ready” armor mounts had done.

As Revan ruminated on these things, she became aware of a sound: a low, rhythmic chanting that seemed to be coming from roughly that same direction. Listening a little closer, she found she could make out words:

Assertion: we intend to triumph,
Assertion: we intend to triumph,
Assertion: we intend to triumph at some future point in time.
Fervent affirmation: Within my memory banks
I am reasonably certain
That we intend to triumph at some future point in time.

Cautiously, Revan made her way toward HK-47, who remained still and facing away. The chanting grew in volume as she approached him, and she knew it could come from nowhere and no one else:

Assertion: we lack trepidation,
Assertion: we lack trepidation,
Assertion: we lack trepidation at the current point in time.
Fervent affirmation: Within my memory banks
I am reasonably certain
That we intend to triumph at some future point in time.

“Er, HK?” Revan began, once she reached him. “What… are you doing?”

The droid stopped and turned to her. “Explanation of behavior: Why, master, I am registering nonviolent resistance.”

“Registering nonviolent what, now…?”

“Elucidation: I am hopeful that this harmless gesture of protest will convince our captors that our intentions are completely peaceful. Aspiration: Perhaps then they will begin to realize that their actions are contrary to the spirit of amity and brotherhood among all sentient—”

“HK.” Revan buried her face in her hands and shook her head. “No, no, no. Just… no.”

“Remonstration: But, master—”

“No, HK.” Revan felt her frustration growing like a brush fire on a dry day on Dantooine. “Amity and brotherhood, shmamity and brotherhood. Amity and brotherhood aren’t worth a spacer’s cuss to us if we are stuck in prison and can’t get out!”

“Dissuasion: Unfortunately, master, I see no immediate means of escaping from our confinement without doing irreparable damage to the integrity of this structure. That, in turn, would run contrary to our avowed intention of avoiding any adversarial—”

“YOU KNOW WHAT?” Revan rounded on him, hands pressed into hips and eyes flashing. “I don’t. Give. A kark. Let me tell you what my avowed intention is right now: we get out of here, get back to the Hawk, we get help. So, kindly shut off your vocoder and give me a hand searching this wall for weaknesses, will you? I’ll take this side, you take that one.”

HK-47 made a rasping sound that almost resembled a sigh. “Resignation: If you say so, master. Ardent plea: But certainly you cannot disallow me to continue my song. Elaboration: If nothing else, it is my personal expression of hope that a peaceable solution may be achieved against all odds.”

And he began chanting again:

Prediction: We shall locomote with appendages linked,
Prediction: We shall locomote with appendages linked,
Prediction: We shall locomote with appendages linked at some future point in time.
Fervent affirmation: Within my memory banks
I am reasonably certain
That we intend to—

RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT! HK’s song was cut short by the earsplitting clatter of the wooden-slatted cell door rolling upward to open. Before he or Revan could react, a Tusken guard ran in, gesticulating vehemently behind himself as he jabbered at its inmates in irascible tones.

“Wait, what’s going on?” asked Revan. “What’s he saying, HK?”

“General impression: He seems to be expressing irritation, master. I hear phrases to the general effect of ‘Scram!,’ ‘Go away!,’ and ‘Get out of here!,’ uttered repeatedly and insistently. Addendum: I caught another that may be either ‘What are you waiting for?’ or ‘When are you expecting?’ Supposition: Based on the context—”

“Okay, glad to oblige, but—can you ask him why he’s letting us go?”

HK spoke some words to the guard, who responded. “Translation,” began the droid. “Because this accursed metal menace—expression of disbelief: certainly he can’t mean me?—this accursed metal menace is driving me to distraction with his… blasted intolerable caterwauling?! Series of exclamations: Hey! That’s not nice! My feelings are hurt! Plan of action: I shall remove myself from the situation post-haste to avoid any unnecessary confrontation!”

With that, he took off running. Revan followed only too gladly, keeping pace as best she could. Perhaps, she thought to herself, as the two of them left the Sand People’s enclave far behind, there was something to be said after all for the power of nonviolent resistance.

fin

Spoiler: Notes

I made Revan female for no other reason than that’s how I usually play/watch her in KOTOR. But it also adds to the AU quality of the story, given that “canon” Revan is considered male.

Also, as far as I know, Revan and her party themselves don’t end up being imprisoned by the Tuskens within the game. But again, (a) AU, and (b) there is a side quest that involves freeing some Jawa captives from the Sand People’s enclave, clearly showing that there are holding cells of some kind there.

“With machines and ignorant feet” is from the game’s own dialogue, and I thought it was cool and in character for the Tuskens, so I kept it.

HK-47’s protest song is, of course, based on the American protest song “We Shall Overcome,” to which I mean no disrespect with this little GFFA filk version. <3 The verses given here are based on those beginning with "We shall overcome," "We are not afraid," and "We'll walk hand in hand."

 

Indeed, that was part of the point! But his methods of nonviolent resistance definitely got results—no denying that!

Thanks so much—I’m so glad you enjoyed the song, which I have to say was one of the most fun parts of this to write! Ohmigosh, if you can, I would love to see a canon cutscene of him singing—I had no idea such a thing existed! (I wonder if it’s in KOTOR2, in which I am given to understand he also mimics Bastila and a few others.) I’m personally not fussed about whether or not a female Revan becomes canonized; that just happens to be the way I first got to know the character and subsequently have always thought of her. Still will indeed be interesting to see what exactly they do with this remake!

Thanks so much! I appreciate your coming by to read, even though the subject matter was unfamiliar—as I appreciate it when it’s not unfamiliar, too!