Beyond - Legends Saga - ST Beyond the Saga Star Wars: Episode X: Duel of the Fates

Title: Star Wars: Episode X: Duel of the Fates
Author: Sinrebirth, with input of @CosmoHender, @Jerjerrod-Lennox, @darthbernael, @HanSolo29, @TheSilentInfluence, @Shadowsun, @Mitth_Fisto, @The Jedi in the Pumas, @galactic-vagabond422, @Kurisan
Timeframe: Nine years after Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker, more than a decade since Crucible
Characters: Rey Skywalker, Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux, Kaydel Ko Connix, Poe Dameron, Rose Tico, Finn, Syal Antilles, Barriss Ofee, Vicrul, Johnson (OC), Xundel (OC), Aryan Graul (OC), Eleanor Magnus (OC), Tirran Huxley (OC), Dol Khan (OC), Rhoen Aquilla (OC), Nomi Da-Boda (OC), Lin (OC)
Genre: Space Opera
Note: Adaption of the RP of the same name, itself an adaption of the original Episode IX script
Summary: The Star Wars Saga continues!

 

PROLOGUE I

During Star Wars: Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker

The blaster bolt slammed into his chest.

He felt his feet almost lifted off the floor as he flew back, slammed into the decking, sliding between the rows of troops with a squeal of fabric as he went. His cane remained in his hand, such was his surprise.

It was strange, what one paid attention to when one was shot.

It didn't hurt as much as he had expected, but then again, it wouldn't, would it?

His leg wound? Now that had hurt. After all, he hadn't any body-armour over that.

Did Pryde really really think he would turn up with such a feeble excuse? He was basically telegraphing what he had done, aiding the scum in their escape from the Steadfast and lamely turning up like a wounded vornskr.

Others came and collected him, ferrying him from the bridge, and he feigned unconsciousness for the time being, just about forgetting to drop the cane. It was efficient, at least, he wryly thought.

But it would be, wouldn't it? These were his troops. His program, enforced by Captain's Phasma and Cardinal, had moulded thousands of children into First Order Stormtroopers. Yes, his influence had been reduced in the past year since Supreme Leader Snoke had died... but it would never be entirely undone. He still had many men and women who had no inkling of how he was derided among High Command, and so followed his orders to the letter.

In short order, he'd be ferried from the Steadfast, and he would resume his command of his troops...

If he was lucky, Pryde, Kylo Ren, Palpatine... the whole lot of them, they would be undone and he would rule.

Chancellor Hux.

It had a nice ring to it.

 

PROLOGUE II

During Star Wars: Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker



"I know what I have to do," Ben Solo admitted, his voice tremulous, his face wet from the Kef Bir rain; hair pressed to his brow. "But I don't know if I have the strength to do it.

Han raised his hand to Ben's cheek. Ben remembered it exactly. Rey had been right; he hadn't been able to shake the memory of the warmth of his father's palm, the calluses at his fingertips, the acceptance in his eyes.

"You do," his father said.

Han Solo still believed in him. So had his mother. So had Rey.

Ben raised the handle of his lightsaber, just like he had on Starkiller Base, the last time he'd seen his father. Except this time...

"Dad...?" he said, suddenly small. Vulnerable. Right.

Han Solo smiled. "I know."

Ben turned, and launched the lightsaber into the air. It sailed in a high arc, far above the wreckage, and disappeared into a haze of ocean spray.

When he turned back, the memory of his father was gone, and Ben Solo was alone in the middle of the sea.

He knew what he had to do. Somehow, he would find the strength to do it.

Kylo Ren was dead.

As he turned aside, he didn't see that a hand caught the lightsaber hilt.

None of them did.

 

@ColeFardreamer, as you asked.

 

PROLOGUE III

A year after The Rise of Skywalker

Coruscant.




The scintillating jewel at the heart of the galaxy.

Well.

Former, anyway.

Since the fall of the Empire, the once-capital of the galaxy had fallen hard, notwithstanding that it was among the first worlds to rise up against the Empire after Endor, and that it fought a year long civil war without any aide from the New Republic, which didn't care to help the world which had oppressed the galaxy free itself from it's own oppressors.

In some ways, the Rebels forgot that the first world to be taken by Palpatine was Coruscant.

That they were lied to, fed a relentless tide of fear via the news of the Clone Wars, a terror which saw the people abandon right after liberty after choice in favour of some phantom spectre of security. They had been manipulated for thirteen years by the then-Chancellor.. how could they have not embraced the tales of the Jedi Rebellion? How could you expect them to refuse to grant unlimited power to the man who had, by all accounts, saved them from the genocidal General Grievous, the depredations of Dooku, or the terror attacks masterminded by Admiral Trench?

And when they rose up, finally having realised the truth?

Nothing.

They were abandoned, while the New Republic freed the rest of the galaxy.

The Battle of Jakku didn't save Coruscant... the end of the war simply condemned it.

For a time, Grand Vizier Mas Amedda ruled a rump Imperial state, with no powers to speak of; no notable military presence, no trade deals, no reparations... nothing. The criminals, well, they moved in with glee to ravage those hundreds of millions trapped on-world, merely below the surface of the New Republic, or Yuuzhan Vong, and later Galactic Alliance. In short order, the old capital became a failed state after the Galactic Alliance fell. By the time the First Order, offered to restore the world to glory, Coruscant welcomed the chance. Their teenagers joined the hungry military machine of Snoke in droves. On Coruscant, Hux and Phasma didn't need to steal children; they were handed over, with joy and tears.

Much like everyone else, the people of Coruscant grew to regret their decision, especially when Hosnian Prime was destroyed.

This wasn't Order, this was blind rage, given shape by madmen like Kylo Ren and Armitage Hux.

So when word spread that the galaxy was in uprising, Coruscant too joined the fray, much as it did thirty-one years ago.

But the First Order was ready.

They had been preparing.

For a year, they had worked the galaxies industries to create a second Mega-class dreadnought, of the same design of the Supremacy, capable of being both command centre, battleship, and shipyard all in one.

It arrived.

Coruscant fell as quickly as it rose.




The Supremacy was reborn as the Capitol.

The twist - a Galactic Jammer which shut down the HoloNet, powered by Coruscant itself.

Without communication, the Resistance was cut down.

Without communication, Galactic Warlords rose.

Without communication, the First Order took back the initiative.

 

PROLOGUE IV



Mustafar.

Millennia ago, the Mustafar system was... reorganised.

The Sith needed the planets in an entirely different alignment, to draw upon fault-lines in the Force.

To access... the other side.

Some called it the World Between Worlds... others, simply, the 'Light',

But the Force resisted the intrusion of the then-Dark, and the Sith Temple there in the rock was abandoned...

Until Lord Vader built his own castle upon that fault-line, to reach through Death to his lost love...

He failed, of course, for even the Chosen One could not break the rules of existence and use the darkness to resurrect the dead...

But the castle remained, and then the world was tamed by the self-proclaimed Dark Lord of the Sith as he pursued the reborn Darth Sidious, some ten years ago...

It is on this world he has since laboured; impossibly, for Ben Solo died years ago.

Ben Solo did, that is. But Kylo Ren?

He has been here.

Where he dwelled.

Researched.

Grown even more powerful, hidden by the darkness...

Today

The terrain is obsidian-like, black and reflective. Jagged mountains spike in the distance.

A cloaked figure in tattered robes rises.

It is him, bearded and weary. He checks the stars for navigation, climbs over a rock precipice...

... to reveal Vader's abandoned castle in the distance.

A drone droid, VX-20, floats just behind him.

"Stay here."

A forgotten, decrepit cathedral. Crumbling. Pieces of structure litter the ground, untouched for decades.

He lights his red cross-guard lightsaber, holds it up as a torch. Tiny creatures scurry at the disturbance.

A haunting wind blows against his cheek, chilling him.

"Leave me alone."

"This is where the dark path leads. An empty tomb."

Luke Skywalker's voice...

... haunting his nephew like a spirit.

"Where did your path lead? You're a ghost."

"I know what you're searching for. Your Masters promised you strength, but you feel hollow."

"Soon I will be more powerful than any Jedi. Even you."

"Are you sure?"

He snaps, spins and swings his lightsaber at empty space. With a billow of cold wind, Luke's spirit is gone, but yet -

"Go home, Ben... go home to Rey..."

Kylo is shaken. But on the altar beyond, the artefact he came here to find...

A Sith Holocron.



It's Gatekeeper?

Palpatine.

 

It is my intention!

 

STAR WARS

EPISODE X

DUEL OF THE FATES

The iron grip of the FIRST ORDER has spread to the farthest reaches of the galaxy. Only a few scattered planets remain unoccupied. Traitorous acts are punishable by death. In order to suffocate the unrest that defeated EMPEROR PALPATINE, the mysterious SUPREME LEADER has silenced all communication between neighbouring systems. Led by POE DAMERON, the Resistance has planned a secret mission to prevent their annihilation and forge a path to freedom....
​

 

CHAPTER ONE

A rich tapestry of stars, reaching beyond all we know.


A world, surrounded by a dock.

Kuat.

Two sharp points of a space station enclose us as we drift backwards into the glowing rectangular entrance of a docking bay.

A First Order transport, a TIE Echelon, touches down; a wide platform descends, revealing a variety of droids.

A black-grey BB unit carefully splits off from the group.

The graphite BB unit swerves to avoid all manner of labour droids, scraping BB's spherical side against the wall. His head tilts down, checking a scuff in his paint, revealing orange beneath. It's BB-8, deep undercover.

He lets out his almost signature 'uh-oh' beep and rotates the orange scuff beneath his head.

---
Coruscant, the First Order Capitol War Room

A clawed hand reaches into a silver tureen of baby shaaks, huddling together for warmth. We follow the squealing animal into the mouth of Lord Gherlid, a nonhuman with razor teeth that ruled much of the northern quadrant.

He sits at a table of Galactic Warlords - tribal, wealthy, coated in elaborate robes and stolen jewels.

Chancellor Hux speaks to them, nostrils flared at the smell. Nine years ago, he wouldn't have had to put up with these... aliens. But then again, without them, taking advantage of the chaos caused by the galactic uprising against the return of Emperor Palpatine, there would not have been a First Order left. It had been ridiculous to assume that all of the galaxies' species would unite behind a single call from Lando Calrissian. As many took advantage of the chaos, carving out fiefdoms in those difficult early days, only to find the First Order was not dead, merely humbled...

"I assure you," he continued. "The stolen Destroyer will be found. Our probe droids are scouring the galaxy as we speak."

Lord Gherlid, his mouth full, burped. "A Dreadnought just slipped through your fingers, Hux. Your words don't inspire confidence."

"A lone signal won't be difficult to fine," Hux said stiffly. "Our transmissions blockade has silenced millions of systems." Of course it had, and it was the main reason why the First Order had managed to retain supremacy - with communication cut, the galaxy had no way to even speak to each other. The First Order knew how to fight without the HoloNet, having spent decades in the Unknown Regions without such a thing. The ill-coordinated, hopeful masses? Not so much.

"You can silence planets, not people. There have been uprisings. We must not allow the seeds of revolution to take root." Gherlid huffed, and Hux responded swiftly, expecting as much, and looking to leverage this into an advantage.

"The First Order will punish those who defy your rule. Submit your youth for conditioning. They will teach their elders the rule of law."

Jor Nult, a nasty-looking dreadlocked Weequay - the Hutt representative - wagged a finger. "It's Skywalker they believe in, not the law. She's become a symbol of hope."

Raykar Shen, the Harch representative - a spider-like offshoot of the Aqualish, that ruled whole sectors of the Outer Rim. "The people believe she will destroy you, Hux - and your Master."

He seethed, remembering the voice of the man who had spoken to him in the days after Exegol, who had taken command of his successes, and returned Hux to being only the second most powerful person in the galaxy. Palpatine, Pryde, all of the other First Order leaders, dead.

But not him. Hux sneered at Shen.

"Kylo Ren is no Master, certainly not mine."

---
A leg folded.

A sip of tea.

A man in a coat of black, regarding a window that seemed to be bereft of glass transparisteel, with a purple nebula in the distance.

Ah, yes.

The galaxy may not look like what you expected.

The armada that went to Exegol, yes, it thrashed the Final Order, and decapitated the leadership of the First Order. Uprisings on Endor, Corellia, Jakku, Thyferra, Coruscant, Kuat, Lothal, Tatooine - they all happened, yes.

But that wasn't the end of things.

Chaos bred opportunity, and the First Order was given a chance - a chance to deploy what they had spent a year preparing - a complete communications black-out. Within days of the Battle of Exegol, the armada scattered, returning to defend homeworlds that were now isolated and exposed prey.

But that lack of galactic community... the inability the galaxy had to speak... it didn't stop the whispers of hope; of the story of Rey spreading...

Nor the rumour that Kylo Ren was not dead.

In nine years, the Supreme Leader has not been seen by the galaxy at large...

Until now.

 

Interlude One

Following the Force to wander the galaxy, like Luke Skywalker before her, she would be forever questioning why she saw her Masters on Tatooine, but not her Ben.

Had he not given his life for hers?

Didn’t Master Skywalker see his father after his redemption?

Where was Ben?

And so she looked.

Whenever she went, she found victims, chaos, strife - occasionally even Jedi candidates. Who could say if she made things better, or worse, or how much she changed?

Ten years ago, she’d fought, triumphed, and lost... so much more than she had believed possible.

Han, Luke, Leia... Ben.

And nothing had changed.

No Jedi; no Sith, yes, but still the Resistance; the First Order. Still the War.

As Luke had said, the Force did not belong to her, but to life, and life called her to many worlds...

Today?

It called her to the people of Kuat.

Introducing Rey Skywalker.

---

The relationship between the idea of Coruscant and its inhabitants was often one of conflict. In those dark depths, entombed by the city-world, the veneer of civilisation became less and less until it was nothing more than brute force imposed daily.

Of course, now the First Order was overlaid upon the top of Coruscant, the higher up you went, the more likely you were to encounter violence. But there was a sweet spot where one could live just fine, on level 1313.

That was where Tirran Huxley existed.

---

Conversely, the relationship between the Known and Unknown had not changed all that much in-spite of the rise of the Empire, the First Order, and, eventually, the Final Order. The efforts of Palpatine to use Jedi, Sith and Chiss navigational data to chart the region had only filled in the map in part.

There were still dragons, Terrors and monsters left to be found. As much as the Nikardun, Ssi-Ruuvi, Grysk, Vagaari and other hermetic kingdoms of the Unknowns had been conquered, erased or simply shattered by the advent of several Imperial remnants into their territories, there remained many worlds unreaped by the Palpatine and his successors.

In that wider uncharted realm emerged Xundel, drawn by who knows what, or perhaps, what knows who...

---

Of course, there are the unknowns that lie within people themselves. Many souls go along impossible, convoluted journeys, but being the fall of the Old Republic was merely sixty years ago, the fates of even a simply one hundred/and-twenty year human lifespan could become twisted into all manner of shapes.

Imagine taking a political stance; any one whatsoever, and acting upon it. If you were a Separatist? You start by losing everything. A democrat? You fought for it, only to lose it to the Empire. A Republican? How long do you have? A Centrist? Did you believe in mass genocide, or not?

But with the endless loss of life and chaos of the end of civilisation, there was always the opportunity to do something that would have been impossible in a more stable and sane society; reinvent yourself.

Which is exactly what Aryan Graul did.

---

That political tumult could play out on any planet in Known Space, but especially in the Outer Rim, where worlds didn’t have the wealth, security or military to inure themselves against fate.

Take Akiva for example.

In the distant Outer Rim, it sided with the Separatists, hosting a battle droids factory. By the end of the Clone Wars, the rulers were overthrown by the Satrapy, and ruled by him on behalf of the Empire. It birthed Rebels, famous ones, including Norra and Temmin ‘Snap’ Wexley.

The Empire made one of its final stands on Akiva, but the New Republic triumphed and the Satrapy changed sides, being one of the first worlds to officially join the new galactic union. The famous Rebel, Wedge Antilles, married and settled here, but yet another twist of fate saw the destruction of Hosnian Prime a decade ago. Then, a wealthy merchant friendly with the First Order ruled instead!

More twists; more turns.

More lives ruined.

Not that it made any difference to Lin.

---

And what of Wedge Antilles himself?

Well.

The man was last-minute gunner aboard the Millennium Falcon at the Battle of Exegol, and lost his adopted son, Temmin ‘Snap’ Wexley. It was a crushing, complete and total victory for the galaxy against the Final Order.

But the war didn’t end.

The First Order is weaker, yes, but it’s also more petty; more callous; more desperate.

Could one say things are better? Now? After all that loss? With the galaxy blanketed in silence, and chaos, and despair for nine more years?

What becomes of a man who has given it all to a cause?

Let’s find out.

---

Part of that personal trauma is the underlying fact that the war has never been between the Separatists and Republic, Empire and Rebels, or the First Order and the Resistance.

Not even Jedi and Sith.

These have just been names for the essential nature of the galaxies conflict; Light versus Dark.

Winner take all.

And in that war, both sides have taken immense casualties. But as these are essentially archetypes pitted against each other, there is always upon the side of the Dark the same entities; the Villainous Mastermind, the Shadow Warrior, the Murderous Fiend, and the Monstrous Creation.

Sometimes, these roles are broken apart and split among others, much like how the concepts of Darth Maul, Count Dooku and General Grievous all ended up within Darth Vader. A particularly insidious foe might even purposely draw upon the most successful of their archetypes again and again and again, and then it becomes a generational foe, a bogey man for every age.

Dark armoured Lords; red-robed Guards, Star Destroyers; TIE fighters of various designs; faceless troopers of black and white.

It was no different with the symbology of the Knights of Ren.

It was no different with Vicrul Ren.

---

But these great concepts did not wage war within the sky, as Gods that decided the fates of all nations, species and gender. No, not anymore, anyway.

The fundamental battleground of this war was the heart, and that is why it appeared almost endless. The Light and the Dark lit and shadowed all souls, every sentience having the potential for good and bad. There was always a degree of choice, of course, but the more control the Dark Ones had over society, the more opportunities there would be for fear, pain and loss, and less choice would one have.

Seemingly, anyway.

Inevitably, the Dark could recreate its armies in the hearts of people without much effort, as a self-perpetuating cycle. Such a cycle inevitably became a wheel of almost permanent conflict, where the stars themselves were at risk of destruction. Thus, the Star Wars.

Thus, the creation of many strata of oppression.

Thus, the removal of self from sentience became key to the continuation of the war.

Brainwashing, chips in your head, child soldiers, indoctrination - all of these were the tools of the darkness

And that is how you can have someone like the Agent serving the First Order

---

But the reason for the wars continue that you cannot always keep the galaxy down. For all its indoctrination’s, superweapons and ability to raise said armies, the desire to dominate is unnatural.

Coruscant is the dark heart of the First Order, but even there beneath that level 1313, there is hope, not yet drawn into the abyss of despair. Move a handful of levels down, you encounter isolated communities, frequently raided by the First Order, subsisting notwithstanding it being all-but cut off from the surface.

Move a dozen more levels down, though, and who knows what you’ll find. The First Order may not be able to perfectly police the depths of the capital, but they can starve those even darker depths into emptiness. Under the Empire, nonhumans were driven down, but even the uprising after Endor was led by humans and aliens alike, especially when it became clear the Imperials only cared about power.

The First Order? It’s still as humanocentric as ever, but it does not discriminate in what it wants; submission - nothing more or less. It cannot be reasoned with; for three decades it has prepared for this conflict, and it has survived the last three blows against it - Starkiller, the Supremacy, the deaths of Pryde, Snoke and the others.

The war has already lasted a decade - soon a whole generation will be made, or broken, by the First Order.

But not if Dol Khan has anything to say about it.

---

This brings us to the Resistance, fighting back notwithstanding that it has been over a decade since its founding. Years locked in a Cold War attempting to galvanise the New Republic Senate to act before it was too late; a year fighting back, destroying Starkiller, the Supremacy and triumphing the Battle of Batuu; Leia, Wedge, Poe, Finn, Rey and Maz painstakingly creating a network of contacts in time for the Battle of Exegol...

The strength they gathered nine years ago was incredible, enough to shatter the greatest armada the dark side could possibly create. But while their strength crushed the Final Order, the survival of Hux and seemingly Kylo Ren allowed them to nudge the blow off to the side, damaging the First Order by proxy, but not destroying it.

But the First Order has been no more successful on snuffing out the Light. The Resistance has lost Han, Luke, and Leia, but still burns with the fire of Poe, Finn, Wedge, Lando and others. Even then, the light is not solely represented in the Resistance.

As much as it strikes at the First Order, the Light resists all forms of darkness, and while Rey wanders, she does what Leia sought to in that year between the Battles of Crait and Exegol; reconnects the stars of hope within the Force.

There are of course older stars in the Force, those who fought the good fight and, for whatever reason, stepped back. Once upon a time that included Luke Skywalker himself, after the destruction of his academy and most of his students... and the loss of a nephew.

Ben Solo was Luke’s greatest failure, even more than any that came before. But Rey, she stood for right even when nobody else was willing to. That belief may end up within the new, but the old? Those lights who survived the disasters of Order 66, the destruction of Alderaan, and the Hosnian Cataclysm, to say they could be jaded, it would be an underestimation.

One such old star is Eleanor Magnus

---

It was one thing to have a three year Clone Wars... or a five year Galactic Civil War... but after a decade-long war... and most of that with no central society to speak of... inconsistencies were beginning to form across the cosmos. Law and order were enforced at the point of a blaster throughout warlord space, which was essentially the majority of the galaxy... meanwhile the Core, Colonies and Inner Rim were solidly within the First Order. The factions that had marched on Exegol now hid behind their borders... those that had survived.

The First Order had brutalised the galaxy for a year, but was this better?

This chaos?

This void filled with violence?

Inconsistencies became mysteries, and then, strangeness.

Perhaps, a Stranger...

---

The broken nature of the galaxy is felt more in the Outer Rim than anywhere.

There are spots of civilisation, mainly clustered around the hyperlanes that dive into the area, usually aligned with the First Order, who dominated galactic trade for their war machine. The independent nations, mostly warlords, periodically shuttled captives off to the Core as tribute - the Tarkinate, the Andoan Free Colonies, Hutt Space, the Northern Dependencies, the Tionese Kingdom - they were given access to the First Order HoloNet.

But in the chaos, there was no way every system could be taken by war.

Many were isolated.

In that isolation, there was, after a fashion, peace.

Or, perhaps, a quiet death.

Some, of course, sought that quiet...

But whether she sought life?

That was a question for her.

Maybe we'll be able to ask Barriss Ofee.

---

The wind blew through fields of Chandrilan wheat nearly ready for harvest. In a barn just away from a quaint farmhouse, a being worked on an Auto-Harvester. His rough grease stained hands finished replacing a hydraulic pump getting the much needed machine ready for the upcoming harvest of the second cutting. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a short tail to keep it out of his eyes while he worked. Those that knew him before would barely recognize him. It would be hard to see the clean cut pilot with short military style hair, under the scuff and oil stains.

"Rhoen…" A voice called out, "Rhoen Aquilla…"

The man let out a long breath, what was it this time...It wasn't enough for the First Order to take the harvest as taxes, they then had to demand taxes on each harvester, and the house, paid in credits that the family barely had. It was bad enough that his wife had to take rich idiots up on Airspeeder tours of New Hanna City, did he have to find a demeaning job to take as well? One of those flying clowns showing off his skill behind the stick of the joy of others?

He slid out from under the machine and looked to the being calling his name.

"No." He said right away recognizing the human standing before him. Sure his hair was dyed, and he was wearing a prosthetic nose but he could see Poe Dameron underneath the makeup.

"You haven't even heard what I was going to say." The leader of the Resistance said.

"I don't need to the answer is no."

"Come on, I need pilots and you're one of the best I've ever seen."

"And I need to be here for my family."

"Really you can stomach living under the rule of these despots?"

"I…" Rhoen let out a breath returning to his work of buttoning up the harvester. "I fought once...nine years ago, it didn't fix anything."

"We can make it work this time."

"Yeah, and when it inevitably fails? What then, do I just keep fighting, leaving my family without me?" He shook his head. "I'm not going to do what my mom did to me…" Valere Aquilla, his mother, hero of the Republic, killed at Hosinan Prime. She had served for many years, missing many birthdays, and firsts in Rhoen's life. "I won't keep fighting a war that never ends."

"Then you'll let her death be in vain?"

At this Rhoen slid out from under the machine snapping to his feet going chest to chest with his former commander.

"Don't you dare say that...I avenged her, I helped you kill the Emperor, you're the one that fracked it up. You're the one that couldn't keep the peace. I did my part. I bled, and sacrificed. My fight is done…"

"Fine, stay here, suffer if you want...but you won't get to stay on the sidelines much longer. Change is coming and I want you on the right side of this…"

"You don't get it, nothing ever changes, all we can do is survive the world we have…"

Dameron was about to speak again but was interrupted by a child's voice.

"Daddy…" a young girl called out, no older than nine years old ran up her golden blonde hair put into two little tails, a pair of overalls covering her. "Daddy Grandpa says dinner's ready…"

"Is it now." Rhoen said his tone quickly shifting from indignation to playful in an instant. He crouched down to scoop up his daughter.

"Daddy, who's this?" She asked, pointing to Poe.

"Oh, this is an old friend, just stopping by to say hi." He bounced the little girl, "Say hi Valerie."

"Hi," the girl replied following her father's instructions.

"Hello there." Poe answered.

"You staying for dinner? My dad makes a mean Nerf Steak." Rhoen said moving towards the farmhouse that had been in his family for generations.

"No, I...uh...already ate."

"Alright, can you see yourself out?"

"Yes."

"Catch you later then…" The former pilot gave a friendly wave to the disguised Resistance leader. Not waiting around to hear the reply. "Come here you." He said pulling his daughter in for a hug kissing her cheek.

"Daddy," she giggled, her laugh ringing out over the fields. He wouldn't go back, he wouldn't miss a moment with his daughter… but he felt a sudden weight in his pocket. Somehow Poe had slipped a datapad... about a mission to Kuat...

At the door a beautiful woman met him, shining blonde hair and sharp features. Syal Aquilla, his love.

"Hey you." He moved to kiss her but she pushed him away.

"Clean up first."

"Yes ma'am." He moved past her, though he couldn't help himself taking just a moment to pat her rear. She let out a squeak turning to look at him with a narrowed gaze.

"Mr. Aquilla,"

Rhoen just gave a her a cheeky smile. He was most of the way to the 'fresher when she called out again.

"Who was that leaving the barn?"

"No one, just an old friend from school…"

 

CHAPTER TWO

A few hours before the Galactic Warlords met with Chancellor Hux...

The Kuat Moon, Resistance Surveillance Den

A comm device blinks in a cramped room stacked with recycled Imperial gear. Rose Tico, adventure-worn and battle ready, grabs it with gloved hands. “BB-8, are you in?”

BB-8 beeps affirmative. Rose looks up through the broken roof at the orbital ring in the sky above. Star Destroyers protrude from it like spikes on a bracelet – as many as the spokes of the former Imperial insignia, all massive dreadnoughts –

The Eclipse Fleet. Each an Eclipse-class Super Star Destroyer, six of them, enough to crush any fleet - especially with that axial superlaser...

Rose took a breath.

“I need eyes on the checkpoint.”

Back on the Kuat Orbital Ring, BB-8 plugs into a S-comp terminal, anxious, tense even though a droid. Out the window, the glowing Kuat moon, sun cresting its horizon. Back with Rose, a holomonitor grid lights up, blurred and scrambled. Rose straps electronic goggles over her cracked leather flight helmet.

“Atta boy,” she mutters, smiling.

From the perspective of her googles, we see a security checkpoint. The HUD zooms on an approaching dropship, and Rose swallows.

“Here they come.”

At the moon checkpoint, the dropship touches down in a canyon of white and blue rock, kicking up a storm of silver sand. Stormtroopers shield their eyes as the craft spits out a new batch of migrant workers from all corners of the galaxy – aliens and humans submitting to the First order in exchange for safety and a scrap of food.

The Stormtroopers funnel the migrants towards a weapons detector…

Finn, disguised in rags among them, speaks quietly. “Checkpoint. Keep your head down.”

A robed-human nods, face hidden under dusty headwear.

A bottleneck quickly forms. The ragged aliens bark at each other in a dozen languages. A beast-like Drovian shoves Finn.

“Whoa, hey! No trouble here!” He says, lifting his hands – the Drovian grabs his neck with a single hand, and lifts him up, teeth bared. Finn tries to smile reassuringly but fails. “Trouble! Trouble!”

The robed human steps between them. Poe Dameron.

“Easy, pal – easy.” He produces a dried three-eyed peckto fish from a leather pouch beneath his robe. “Here; I couldn’t finish it.”

The Drovian eyes the fish, drops Finn, and strides off, eating the offering one-handed.

“Thanks,” Finn says, even as Poe returns a concealed blaster to a fold of his robe. Finn regains his footing, clutching his neck, but the other shoots him a tense look – as the Stormtroopers shout at them to move along, funneling them towards the detector…

“How’ll we know if BB-8 hacked the mainframe?” Finn whispers.

As they draw into sight of the detector, the weapons scanner alarms – Stormtroopers pull a mangy Gotal out of the group. He pleads, pointing desperately at his metallic horns, pleading in an unfamiliar language. Blasters fire.

“We’ll know,” Poe says grimly.

As they step into the weapons scanner, the machine shudders and clicks off.

A Stormtrooper steps forward. “We lost power; hold the line.” The other three Stormtroopers stepped forward, blasters smoking. Finn and Poe eye each other, tense.

BB-8’s s-comp link stutters and spins. A Stormtrooper drops a crate of hydro-spanners nearby in the hangar. BB-8 startles as they clatter across the floor. Contrary to popular opinion; droids sweat. Seriously, they do.

The Stormtrooper smacks the console by the scanner, and it finally powers up again with our armed infiltrators standing inside.

No alarm.

“Go on, get going,” the lead Stormtrooper mutters. “Move along, move along.”

They exhale; still alive.

Poe and Finn pass through the border wall to reveal a vast migrant settlement. Modular housing painted with colourful symbols from each worker’s home world, a vibrant melting pot.

The orbital ring looms above, connected to the surface by a massive powershaft plunging directly into the core. It glows blue with the ship-fueling energy mined on the moon. As Finn glances up, he can make out the Star Destroyers docked.

Poe locks eyes with Biss Kova, a furry Anzellan watching from a machine shop. He taps his little cheeks, and they nod, heading in. Rose greets them, or, rather, she pulls a face and smacks Finn’s shoulder.

“You said two days. I’ve been here for two weeks!”

They exchange asides, and then soon enough they get to the business of planting explosives in the power-shaft – that would both cut off the fuel supply from the moons core, but also send a stream of detonations into the six warships presently attached to the fueling depot. The base is presently where BB-8 is stationed, having hidden for nearly a month!

Of course, already here by dint of the Force, is Rey Skywalker, and she would have long sensed them and their arrival… but Finn, if he had slowed down, would have sensed her. In a few minutes though, the three of them rushed off to the edge of the camp -

In short order they overpower the three Dark Troopers defending the base at the edge of the camp – mark twos, basically humans in a mech-suit – and set the explosives. Poe shouts into the comms. “BB-8, bombs are away! We’ll meet you at the relay point!”

Our heroes exit through the maintenance door they had used, to find themselves face-to-face with a dozen Stormtroopers and six Dark Troopers…

Poe looks up, expecting explosions to erupt and they can escape in the confusion –

“Distraction in three, two, one –“

Poe dives, dragging Rose and Finn down, covering his head –

Nothing happens.

The troopers simply lift their weapons and prepare to fire –

---
Kuat Control

Modelled after the bridge of a Star Destroyer, a First Order office rushes to alert the steel-looking Admiral Vonn. Screen graphics show a contained blast in the power-shaft.

“Blast shields have contained the explosion, Admiral. All systems stable.”

Vonn looks down at the glowing Kuat moon below, and scoffs. “Their outdated tactics are pitiful.”

“Do we notify the Capitol?”

“There is no need,” Vonn said with a sneer. “Our Stormtroopers will kill them before the end of the hour."

---
Korilev, the Resistance secret base, Outer Rim

They sat in the control room, cramped, and uncertain. The Resistance was no larger than it was ten years ago before the Battle of Exegol. In orbit hung the old Mon Calamari cruiser Home One, which had long been cannibalized for parts to keep in repair the twenty-or-so small craft they had left.

Kaydel Ko Connix consulted her headpiece, relaying it to the small group with her.

“The Eclipse fleet is still intact, General, but the explosives have gone off.”

They had X, B, A, and Y-wings strung out in a chain of communication, a risky move but the only way they could keep in contact with the team on Kuat. It was secure at least, but not anyway to run a galactic HoloNet.

“So now what? We don’t have a back-up team,” said Beaumont Kin, the former historian-turned-freedom-fighter. He had minimal combat training and worked better as an aide rather than a frontline officer. He and Rey had spent a good year translating the Jedi texts, but since the death of Ben Solo, he’d not seen her, though he would love to finish the study of the books.

He looked at the only other person in room; the third General in the Resistance, but senior in age and experience; Wedge Antilles. With Poe and Finn ‘hands-on’ commanders, it was often the case that the veteran was held back, preparing for the next shipment of volunteers… because some-times, you needed someone to stand still rather than rush off and be a hero, though with how short-handed they were, sending Poe and Finn was simply all they had to hand.

There was a single X-wing left on world, as well as Rose’s personal ship, the Phantom Hawk¸ which was in a state of repair. D-0 was busy working on it, but the HWK-design was old, and it showed.


Connix, who kept her hair styled in a manner reminiscent of the late Princess Leia, was tapping tactical displays on her datapad. “We could call our assets on Coruscant, but that would likely expose them…” She was referencing Dol Khan’s cell, but that was a longer shot than not.

“… and we don’t have any idea if they’ll arrive remotely in-time.”

They could have argued about it all day; they often did.