Note: Shadows of the Force is the product of months of collaboration and discussion with various users on various forums. We discussed the ways in which the central Star Wars saga could be rewritten so as to improve continuity, character development, and story points while remaining true to the overarching precepts of George Lucas's epic tale. This is but a humble attempt to do just that, taking months of discussion and putting it to use. What you see before you is very much a work-in-progress: It is not completed. It's not even close. I have worked on this project for a long time, but it has fallen victim to my anal retentive, perfectionist demands. Chapter after chapter after chapter has been outlined, written, and ultimately scrapped by me because I don't feel it's worth reading. Posting it here for your entertainment and feedback will hopefully be the impetus needed for me to complete it.
Disclaimer: This is a semi-original reworking of an already established story, the characters and setting of which are created and owned by George Lucas and the great minds of LucasFilm. This work is not for profit, no money is exchanging hands, and no copyright infringement is intended.
The Shadows of the Force
Crisis now threatens a millennium of peace. Disaffected with perceived corruption in the government, Dooku, the charismatic Count of Serenno and former Jedi Master, has established a confederacy of independent systems and has persuaded countless worlds to secede from the Republic.
The Republic Congress, unwilling to relinquish these planets and divide the union, has outlawed secession and mobilized its armies to quell uprisings throughout the galaxy as the unscrupulous Chancellor Valorum, fearing for his vulnerable reputation, has pressured the venerable Jedi order into the conflict. Negotiations continue to fail and, with no end in sight, many fear that the result will be nothing other than galactic war.
Onto this delicate stage steps three key players: the freshly minted Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, his rebellious apprentice, Anakin Skywalker, and a mild-mannered Senator named Palpatine. Together, in these perilous times, the decisions made by these three individuals will shape the fate of an entire galaxy.
Prologue:
Separatist-occupied Thule
Situated deep within the vast expanse of space known as the Outer Rim, the planet Thule had earned an unpleasant reputation for its ugly appearance and hostile climate; its surface was practically lifeless, hopelessly charred and scorched by perpetual lightning storms and rendered as barren as an infertile womb by cyclical droughts and ever changing but always vicious weather patterns. But, tainted just as irrevocably as its charmless physical attributes, was Thule's history. In times past, it had served as a common fixture and prominent member of the various Sith empires. The Sith would come and go, rise up and be defeated by the Republic on many occasion, but it never changed: when the galaxy's deadliest cult of Force users would return, Thule always welcomed them with open arms. As such, the planet had seen and suffered the very worst of war. The last time, an infuriated Republic countered with a devastating series of strikes and invasions—Thule's defenses were subsequently obliterated, its government destroyed, and most of its population systematically imprisoned and relocated; those who resisted were killed and those who escaped were driven deeper into the abyss of space. Thoroughly cowed and conquered, Thule was abandoned by the Republic and existed as a wounded, irretrievably damaged world—a cautionary tale for those who would challenge the Republic's sovereignty and test its patience.
As the galaxy turned its eyes to more important matters, Thule drifted in its lonely orbit, forgotten.
That is, until the Separatist Alliance had shown up and claimed it three months ago.
It had been an amusingly simple task, which the fleet commanders found ironic for a world with such a rich history of dissidence as Thule; the Republic, convinced by centuries of silence that the world had been utterly pacified, left no task force to maintain the subjugation. It was an irresponsible decision that the Separatists had both expected and sincerely appreciated. Not that it mattered: The Separatist fleet, numbering thirteen capital ships, was more than enough to deal with a token planetary task force and would have succeeded in its mission one way or another. The ships—five Providence-class destroyers and eight Munificent-class frigates—deployed in specific locations for maximum coverage, anticipating potential gateways from which an unauthorized ship might emerge, and parked themselves in geosynchronous orbit.
Some would say the months since had been pleasantly peaceful; Asajj Ventress would say that they had been ruthlessly boring.
As her Sheathipede-class transport shuttle escaped the bowels of the Separatist flagship and zoomed towards the surface with great haste, Ventress wondered why her Master had referred to her task of overseeing this operation as "an honor." Did men, even great men such as he, find such trivial tasks to be delightful? Or, perhaps, had he simply been indulging in doublespeak—assigning her, his supposedly prized champion, with a mission well below her paygrade and well outside her realm of expertise.
As the shuttle ripped another hole in Thule's broken, turgid atmosphere, Ventress eyed the pair of identically curved lightsabers hooked to her belt. Yes, her particular skillset lay well beyond what this operation called for, as evidenced by the lack of mangled corpses. She was a fighter, a warrior, a killer and they both knew it. Anywhere other than the battlefield, she felt insecure. It was more than just being out of place, it was an overwhelming sense of feeling inappropriate. Dirty, even.
If he had been here, her Master would have told her that there was no use in complaining, verbally or mentally, given his own stubborn nature. Orders were orders, after all.
The physical trembling that was the shuttle touching down jarred Ventress out of her musings.
"Ma'am," sealed within the cockpit, the pilot's voice emanated from the hull's speakers. "We've arrived."
She sighed a single word in response:
"Finally."
The exit ramp hadn't completed its slow stretch onto the cold stone before Ventress's impatient stride reached the end of it. She hopped off the yawning ramp and continued her relentless march, blitzing past the detachment of brown-clothed soldiers that served as her honor guard and escort. She barely acknowledged the frequent flashes of light—Thule's persistent thunderstorms were so common that she speculated the energy could sustain half the Core Worlds—but let her eyes drift to the barren, rocky landscape.
An inarticulate buzzing reached Ventress's ears, likely the effects of such relentless lightning. Her eyes spotted dozens of gargantuan machines and vehicles adorned with a spectrum of coned drills, laser projectors, and a slew of mining equipment, but she knew that there were hundreds more in the surrounding regions. Asajj Ventress, commanding an excavation? Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
Her pace quickened as the buzzing became more pronounced, like a swarm of persistent insects approaching her ear. She stalked the outside of the excavation zone like a caged animal. The drills had certainly been busy; Thule was looking less like a planet and more like a cluster of barely connected rocks.
But was it enough? Had the workers located the artifact that her Master so desperately sought?
It was only then that the buzzing, louder than ever, sonically morphed into something semi-articulate: her last name. An insect—some sort of bug native to Thule—sophisticated enough to attempt Galactic Basic? Intrigued, Ventress tore her eyes from the digsite and glanced over her shoulder.
The intrigue retreated as quickly as it had came and her eyes returned to the excavation zone.
"Oh, you. How long have you been talking?"
Natalus Telspin, the excavation supervisor and Ventress's nominal second-in-command on this particular operation, clenched his fists and pressed his lips together in a fine line.
"Since you first touched down, ma'am. Perhaps if you paid attention—"
Ventress might not have ranked oratory among her most prized skills, but she was sufficiently versed in speech to detect insolence. On reflex, her right hand went to one of the cold handles dangling from her waist.
"Wanna run that by me again, Commander?"
"Er—on second thought, it-it was my fault. I, uh, I definitely could have spoken louder or tapped you on the shoulder or—"
"That might have cost you the offending finger," drawled Ventress. "Or perhaps the entire hand."
Fairly tame, but then her Master had demanded that casualties be kept to a minimal. Telspin fell silent, perhaps because he had become aware of how very lucky he was that Ventress was a loyal disciple.
"Let's shift gears, Commander," offered Ventress, an edge creeping into her voice. "You whisk me away from the comforts of the flagship to bring me down to this wretched world for what I hope is a good reason. Suppose we get to you telling me what that reason is?"
"We, uh, we've found something."
Ventress's heart skipped a beat, interrupting a rather laconic pace.
"Something?"
"A rock, ma'am," Before Ventress could interrupt, Telspin added hurriedly: "More specifically, an obelisk. It matches the descriptions closely. It's bigger than the picture suggests, but the symbols are the same. The archaeologists are examining it now."
Ventress whirled on her heel to face the intimidated commander.
"Show me."
The obelisk was saturated in light from half a dozen powerful spotlights arrayed in a semi circle around it. Four archaeologists—a human female, Twi'lek male, a Nautolan female, and a Rodian of unknown gender (Ventress couldn't tell from its features and didn't care enough to find out)—were clustered around the object, peering closely at the countless engraved markings and symbols on its ancient surface.
When Telspin produced the rendering of the obelisk, Ventress tore it from his hands and her eyes darted from the paper to the real thing three or four times before shoving it back to the startled commander.
"Looks like it to me."
"The team assembled by the leadership hasn't completed its examination, yet, ma'am," reminded Telspin, gently. "But you're probably right—"
Ventress turned her head an inch in his direction. "Probably?"
"Uh..."
She smirked and reached out a long, thin arm to smack the young commander on the back. Well beyond unsettled and quickly approaching terrified, Telspin stumbled forward a few steps.
"Lighten up."
Sufficiently cowed, Telspin offered no response. Ventress didn't bother waiting for one, stepping forward, deeper into the excavation pit in which the obelisk sat. She stepped into the pool of light, flinching momentarily, and approached the enthralled archaeologists.
"What's the verdict, ladies and gentlemen," began Ventress, indicating the Rodian, "and, uh, whatever you are?"
The scientists, each of whom seemed so enamored with their finding that they weren't disturbed in the slightest by Ventress, murmured to themselves for a several seconds before answering the pale warrior.
"We all agree," offered the apparent spokesperson, the human female, "that this is definitely the object you seek. The markings are unlike any we've found on the other pieces—there's no doubt that they're an identical match to the rendering you provided us."
"You're certain?"
"Absolutely, ma'am," piped up the Twi'lek male. "In fact, we can't wait to examine the obelisk further—in a much more, uh, secure environment, of course."
"Fantastic," drolled Ventress. "Excuse me for a moment."
She offered an unpleasant smile and turned, walking away from the obelisk and past Telspin—who was still rooted to the spot in abject terror.
Sufficiently removed from prying ears, Ventress reached into the depths of her dark, form fitting battle suit and retrieved a small holo-comm. disk from a hidden pocket. Pressing the activation button, she knelt and bowed her head. After a moment, her Master's commanding baritone caressed her ears.
"What is it, child?"
"The operation is a success, Master," Ventress explained. "We've found it."
There was a pause before he reponded. "Lift me higher."
Ventress complied, raising the hand holding her Master's hologram a few more inches.
"Ah, yes," her Master's voice usually modulated betrayed the shadow of excitement. "Excellent. Excellent. Has it been verified?"
"Yes, Master. All four of the experts you placed at my disposal agree."
"Very good, child. Very good. Then we are on schedule."
Ventress bowed her head lower before responding: "What are you orders?"
"The obelisk is important, but it ultimately, it is just one of the final pieces. We must begin assembling the puzzle itself. Begin removing the components and prepare them for transport."
"Yes, my Master," said Ventress, eager to conclude the mission.
"Oh, and Asajj? We can't afford the Republic catching wind of this little archaeological finding. Get rid of the experts and the supervisor, but I would have you spare the workers—their deaths aren't so necessary."
It was a reward, she knew: Ventress licked her lips in anticipation. "Thank you, my Master."
The commanding voice took a slightly lighter tone, as if sharing a private joke. "Yes, I thought you might like that. Finish your assignment and contact me afterwards."
Ventress lifted her head as the hologram vanished with barely-restrained enthusiasm and pocketed the holo comm. Her long, pale fingers closed over curved handles on her belt. At last, it was time to demonstrate her true talent.
Igniting the lightsabers, Ventress sprang into motion, moving through the air like a deranged banshee.
Her victims' screams echoed throughout the cavern, the carnage witnessed only by a silent, ancient obelisk.
Commentary: This marks the introduction of Asajj Ventress, a Force-wielding assassin whose allegiance is to the dark side of the Force. In extant EU, Ventress is the not-so-secret disciple of Count Dooku. Though her original backstory has been retconned by The Clone Wars cartoon, her portrayal is that of a mentally unstable killer whose obsession with Jedi is punctuated by impulsive acts of violence. You will find that this portrayal of her doesn't seem to deviate too far from the mark, but hopefully new elements of Ventress's personality will be explored within this story to make her a more convincing character; hopefully the reader will relate with her boredom and begin to see her as a person (a wicked, wicked person, of course).
For those of you who might notice or care, I try to be as tender as humanly possible with details. Having set aside creative writing in favor of more analytical, objective writing in the past few years, I realize that it is would be quite easy for me to slip into "info dumps" that would span thousands of words to describe something that is ultimately trivial to the story. I didn't bother describing the shape of the Separatist vessels because many of us who have seen the films, watched the TV show, or flipped through the comics (or use Wookieepedia) have seen these ships and, as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. For characters and settings, I try to parcel out descriptions as the text goes on, leaving enough ambiguous for you all to make up your own minds about these elements.
I hope you all will take note of the fact that Ventress's Master ordered her to spare the Separatist miners and workers who unearthed the obelisk. I found this to be important because it suggests that her superiors aren't necessarily creatures of pure evil.
Size & Scale: The Separatist fleet numbers thirteen capital ships in what is repeatedly suggested to be an incredibly minor task force. The Separatists wish to hold Thule without arousing any suspicion from the planet's neighbors or from the Republic proper, hence the miniscule number of ships, so just imagine how large an actual battle fleet might be.
Please read, enjoy, and never pull your punches with the reviews! Thank you!