Star Wars Fanon:Featured works/History

[edit] January 2009

Heritage by Aurrasingrules101

Eyes snapped open to darkness, breath echoing in ragged gasps through the tiny enclosure. Beads of sweat rose on her forehead, her eyes still roving in vain for any light, any visibility. There was nothing. A moan of internal and external pain choked her, and she hugged herself tightly in the cold and obscurity. Even that simple movement caused her wrists to brush the surface hovering above her face, the scraping noise like an explosion in the silence of the dead.

For the first minute, perhaps, Padmé thought she would go mad. Her mind was still cloudy and unsure, and for the life of her she couldn't gather the unraveled threads that had woven her plan. She knew there had been a plan, but what was it?

Panic and claustrophobia seeped through the blindness into her brain and in a moment of terror all she could do was scream and bang on the narrow space that was her tomb. “Anakin!” she screeched, small fists thrashing on all sides of her prison until her knuckles were raw and bloody, and her feet and knees bruised.

“Anakin. Anakin. Anakin. Anakin...” It became her chant, a tie to her life and the person she had been and would never be again. Like a drum roll she repeated his name over and over again in a monotonous voice, tears streaking her face and her hands beating on the layers of stone in rhythm with her cries for a man who was dead.

She stopped abruptly, poised for another strike. Slowly she pressed her weeping fingers to the surface above her, feeling the cold, moist stone. “What? Anakin?” she waited, ears pricked for a response. None came.

[edit] February – April 2009

Force Exile I: Fugitive by Atarumaster88

Sheets of rain slashed down through the Coruscant night. Howling currents of wind whistled through the myriad starscrapers, causing passersby of various species to seek the shelter of overhangs or buildings. The clouds loomed over the megalopolis, as if the sky was seeking to vent its wrath on the populace. Lying on a stained, slick slab of duracrete, oblivious to the pounding rain, was a young human male. His singed clothes and tattered appearance spoke of violence and chaos. Gasping for breath, drenched with rain, sweat, and tears, he lay on the slab trying to absorb all that had happened to him within the last few hours, trying to comprehend the destruction of all he held dear, trying to realize that everyone he had considered family was dead, and trying to determine what to do next, now that he was public enemy #1 as the cylindrical silver object belted to his waist marked him as a Jedi Knight, the millennia-old order now declared an enemy of galactic civilization.

[edit] May 2009

The Seventh Star by Katana Geldar

A guard walked through a door carrying a locked metal box, placing it on the counter in front of Jali. The guard pressed his thumb against the plate on the front of the box and the lid sprung open. He started to take the items out one by one, checking them against a datascreen as he did so.

“A wallet, synthetic leather,” the guard said. “Four currency chips, two holographs and a key-access card for 17329 Permel Apartments.” Jali grabbed the objects as the guard took them from the box. “One Coruscanti identification in the name of Jali Dawler, planet of origin Coruscant, born thirty-five standard years ago, occupation Coruscant Security Officer, rank Sergeant.” The guard looked up. “You’ll have to get a new one, soon.”

Jali didn’t smile as he tucked the ID into his wallet. What description did they give to those in his position? “Unemployed”? “Ex-criminal”? “Just got out of jail for something I didn’t do”? It was something he had considered in his time inside, just one of the many things waiting him on the way out.

[edit] June 2009

Force Exile II: Smuggler by Atarumaster88

Sighing, Annita returned to the spaceport traffic pattern analysis she had been looking over. There was nothing to it but to get back to work. Perhaps if she narrowed her search parameters, the computer would give a clearer resolve. She was searching for young to middle aged human females who had arrived within the last two months, but had come up with a huge list of possibilities. Assuming the Mistryl had some proficiency in forging passports and identicards, there was no easy way to facilitate some sort of sorting query. Meaning that each entry would have to be hand-checked, and even that might not yield anything.

Suddenly, she was distracted by the sound of something slamming into a wall or floor. She reached for her comlink to call Dolp, the lone guard on duty at the Investigator station, when the door to her small and rather crowded office burst open. A lithe looking woman wielding a blaster and wearing a dark jumpsuit and hood strode into the room and Annita unexpectedly found herself staring down the business end of a blaster pistol.

[edit] July 2009

First Impressions by Atarumaster88

The cup rattled just a bit, sliding almost imperceptibly across the table. The water inside sloshed around as it was moved by invisible hands, the meniscus bobbing frantically with the motion. A few meters away from the table, a lanky teenage boy of fifteen years stood, his eyes closed, his right hand outstretched and trembling with exertion. His name was Selusda Kraen, though he usually went by Selu, and he was a Jedi Padawan, as denoted by his plain tan tunic and the long braid extending from his otherwise close-cropped black hair down across his shoulder. Though he was in no way touching the cup of water, it continued to vibrate and then lifted off the table to float twenty centimeters above the hard gray ceramic surface, joining two other cups that were floating there, suspended in thin air by the power of the Force.

The young man stood there silently, gritting his teeth as his brow furrowed with exertion. He had been standing that way for the past couple minutes. There were three cups in the air now, all hovering perfectly still, and three more that remained on the table. The teenager’s right index finger twitched, and the base of the fourth cup started subtly shifting as he sought to extend his mind’s reach around it and lift it, too, off the surface of the table. He had once lifted five into the air, and now, today, he would strive to hoist six into the air telekinetically. If the Force was with him.

[edit] September 2009

Acceptance by Victor Dorantes

The sunbeams downed onto the Coruscanti fields below, filled with crops, scarefauna, and, of course, the farmers that worked the fields devotedly. The large, productive farmland belonged to the Jedi Order, to their Service Corps branch. Specifically, the farms belonged to the Agricultural Corps, where Jedi younglings who were not selected by a Jedi Master by the age of thirteen — therefore not becoming Padawans of the Order — would have to go to work, to continue serving as petty associates of the Jedi.

Unfortunately, this was the case for many young teens, of all genders and species — the Jedi Order, though, suffered little, as such younglings were usually regarded to as failures and nothing more by their peers and even themselves. Most of the younglings didn't even know why they failed, they just knew they had, and were left with that. A depressing feeling of failure and total loss to carry with them for the rest of their time, all thanks to a heedless Order of Jedi.

Narod Antrell in particular felt lied to, betrayed, and saddened by his so-called failure. He was a fairly short, dark-skinned Human male, with scruffy black hair that couldn't be combed down, a big shaggy mess. Narod remembered a bit of his childhood, especially from his time as a Jedi youngling. He barely remembered when he first was taken from his family on Dantooine to Coruscant, but he clearly remembered when he was promised that he'd become a Jedi. Narod was bitter and angry about the entire situation, since he had trained in the Order relentlessly for over a decade and, in the end, was sent off to be a farmer, nothing more.

[edit] November 2009

Rakata by Solus

K...Krell.

That’s what they call it. The light up there. The light that travelled through the sky each day to disappear each night. That light. That was Krell.

What a funny name.

They had a name for everything - everything wasn’t just there, it had a name. Even different kinds of the same thing had a name. It was as if the Rakata had so much time on their hands that they decided to name everything.

What a funny way to waste time.

Grass, sky, stable, house, rain, Krell, Machine...and Us.