The Republic
Author's Introduction:
First, allow me to thank you for clicking on the link to read this. It is my hope that some small measure of enjoyment will be gained from this document. However, know that this is not a full story, and never will be expanded upon by me. I wrote this piece because I had read several Star Wars stories on this site, some of which had the same general beginning, which I considered weak and/or not an accurate portrayal of the situation as it would have occurred.
The situation I am referring to is thus: the author wants the main character (Anakin or Luke) to become an initiate in the Sith mysteries from a young age, and so writes a short prologue/first chapter detailing how a Sith leader (Dooku, Vader, etc.) comes and takes Anakin/Luke away from their families. The story then jumps ahead to the protagonist's later years and continues. Surely many people have come across a story with this basic beginning.
After I had read several of these stories, the sheer implausibility of most of them inspired me to write a short piece of my own, that would take into account the power the Sith lords of the Saga have always had, and the vastness of the Star Wars galaxy. Surely, Dooku would consider it beneath his immense dignity to visit a planet like Tatooine for any reason, and Vader should be far too busy with affairs of the Imperial State to take a nostalgic trip to his homeworld. And neither of these two galactic leaders travel alone – much less the Emperor! This short work is not a criticism of any of these aforementioned stories, for it is understandable that authors, wanting to get on with their story, spend less time than ideal on their prologue.
Any authors that want to, feel free to use any portion of this that you want. I just ask that you mention me briefly if you do take ideas from here.
Lastly, I have included several small details that I did not take the time to check, because they were not relevant to the narrative and none but a more determined fan would notice them. These include the timeline of pre-Republican humanity, the dating system pre-Endor, the mention of the Star Wars galaxy being located in a super void to explain the lack of significant extragalactic travel, and so on. I hope anything I got wrong is understood to be because of its relative unimportance, and overlookable.
Without further ado…
The Republic. The most massive, powerful entity ever to unite the cosmos under a single authority. It's officials, it's name, it's mass culture could be found spread through the three galaxies nestled inside the Local Super-void, and it's ships had made the nearly seven year journey to the edge of the void to establish small outposts.
Coruscant. Government. Capitol. Synonyms.
Coruscant, the planet of History. Sixty thousand years ago, the first Homo sapiens looked up at the stars and wondered. Forty thousand years ago, they erupted, spreading across the galaxy in waves of slower-than-light sleeper ships, for they were lonely. As their numbers increased exponentially, they discovered something. They were not alone.
Coruscant, planet of Government. Twenty-five thousand years ago, the Legislation of the Coruscanti Federation became a signing member of the Articles of the Republic, and the Republic was born.
Like all other worlds, Coruscant had many varied exports, billions of them. No one planet, however, could be important on the scale of pan-galactic economy. No, Coruscant's defining export was Rule.
One such exercise of Rule left Coruscant and travelled towards the Nont Aratin System at speeds far exceeding the speed of light, for it was broadcast from Coruscant and received by the Republican military command in-system in seconds. A distance of thousands of light-years.
The named planet of Nont Aratin gave the system it's name; the planet was a baseline Outer Rim world of twenty trillion inhabitants, with over half the planet covered in sprawling city. The Republic kept a small detachment of troops in-system – the 17 billion Army troops, their transport ships, and escorts were actually based on the many moons of one of the gas giants – but there was nothing to indicate Nont Aratin deserved a communication directly from the highest echelons of the Republic.
Four Standard hours after the communication, two Assault divisions, a Hover Armor: Light division, and an Asymmetrical: Urban division embarked their relative transport ships. The Assault divisions comprised 100,140 troops each, the H. Armor: Light 4000 hover tanks with run crew and support staff, and the Asymmetrical: Urban division 30,000 troops. A utterly insignificant force, but enough for the operation.
The seven transport ships, plus two Gurgon-class cruisers (2.7-kilometer long oblate cylinders, heavily armed and shielded) formed up and executed the hyperspace jump. Forty-three Standard seconds later the flotilla re-entered sublight, 103 Standard Aus above the averaged plane of the Tatoo system. The transports and Gurgons corrected minute drifts in formation, swung on axis so that their bows were oriented towards the fourth planet, and engaged their main drives. Their presence, already readily detectable, was now broadcast for hundreds of light-years by the power unleashed.
The Tatoo system contained twenty-one planets orbiting a mid-spectrum yellow sun. Only two of the seven rocky inner planets were in the possible Habitation Zone, and of those, only Tatoo IV was settled. Tatooine.
Tatooine was a very dry, arid world, with most of the planet's moisture locked up in the icy poles. No single species dominated the planet. The off-worlders and their descendants not caring about the stretches of desolate desert, and the indigenous species not able to force the interlopers out of their cities.
The Tatoo system was part of Hutt Space. The Hutfts were a once-influential species who had once controlled much of their arm of the galaxy, but now had shrunk down to controlling a puny thousand systems. Still, they retained their independence and their arrogance, and the mission was to be completed with a minimum of interference, if possible.
'If possible' was the operative part, for the orders that had launched the expedition had made it explicitly clear that retrieval of the objective was imperative above all other concerns. Release had even been granted for indiscriminate use of shipboard weapons against ground targets – an inconceivably rare occurrence, due to the enormous potential political and military repercussions involved.
All this information ran through Inas Prand's mind as he reviewed the operational data and mission objectives one last time through his cybernetic implants. The tiny network of quark-computers and transmitters embedded in his mind presented the information to him as data he had learned by heart.
"Fleet beginning braking maneuver in ten S-seconds, Commodore," called out a voice from lower on the bridge.
Prand ended the data-streaming and returned his attention to the bridge of his Gurgon-class cruiser flagship, where his bridge crew was quietly and competently going about their tasks. The flotilla was following the most basic approach pattern of all: full thrust towards the target until halfway point, then turning around and applying full thrust away from the target. It was the fastest way to get from one point to another in space and be able to come to a stop at that point.
"Understood, Navigation. Time to arrival, with current course?"
"Seven minutes forty seconds plus/minus five seconds from mark. Mark."
Prand turned his attention to his chair controls. A brief manipulation brought up a solid-looking holographic computer screen in front of him. He finalized the plans for securing the fourth planet, reviewed the Army commander's plans for troop insertion and general deployment, and added a few notes for some of his subordinate Captain. Saving the file, he broadcast it to the other ships in his command and looked up again, idly straightening his collar.
"Communications, new Fleet-wide transmission, to all Captains and the Brigadier Steffenson. Message as follows: Captains, I have finalized the operational plans and loaded them to your computers, to be implemented immediately. Brigadier Steffenson, your recommendations have all been approved without comment. The transports will disembark your troops as requested and shall be available for orbital support upon request. This command should now consider itself on war footing. Good hunting, and remember the Republic we all serve; Commodore out. Comms, send that now."
"Aye sir… sent."
The seconds ticked by slowly as the flotilla of nine ships continued to 'fall' towards Tatooine. The approved plan was a simple one, no more complicated than it had to be. The two Gurgons would take up geostationary orbit over the main colonized continent, threatening both any possible anti-space batteries and the civilian cities, discouraging potential resistance – not that a backwater world like this could stop even a lone Imperator.
Each Assault division occupied two transport ships, themselves respectably armed with not only turbolasers but also dedicated ground-support superlaser batteries. The first division would secure the southern cities; the second, the northern cities, except for one: Mos Eisley, city Intelligence put the target in.
Mos Eisley's outer limits would be secured by the H. Armor division, which would also set up defensive position to defend the city from possible ground attack… which would long have been destroyed from orbit, but all contingencies were being covered. The Asymmetrical division would secure the city itself, and retrieve the target.
"Communication from planetary authorities, sir. They're demanding that we broadcast our intentions in the clear, and to speak with the commander of the fleet."
"Acknowledged. Time till orbit?"
"Four minutes fifty seconds, sir." said Navigation.
"Communication, inform them that we are a Republican Fleet here on classified intentions, but that annexation or overthrow of government is not our goal. Tell them – rather, ask them to attend a secure holoconference with me to discuss how the situation can be resolved with a minimum of difficulty."
"Sent, sir." A pause. "They've specified the holo parameters. Our computers have accepted and checked the program, it's clean. The planetary leaders are ready."
Prand nodded. "I'll take it in the bridge suite. Route it through. Lieutenant, continue operation as planned. You have the bridge."
The Officer of the Watch saluted. "Aye, sir, I have the bridge."
Prand returned the salute and walked to the holotank set to the rear of the bridge, thinking of the coming meeting.
The Hutts would be furious and scared, fully aware of the power Prand had over them. He would have to reassure them the Republic would respect their independence before he could get their cooperation. Cooperation, though, would be worth the aggravation, and would increase the success probability dramatically. Success was everything on this mission, as it should be.
He entered the holotank, and found himself facing several huge, grey and tan slugs. They immediately launched into a barrage of questions and accusations. Prand just put on a reassuring smile and waited for the noise to die down, inwardly thinking there was a good reason the Republic wasn't interested in these worlds.
Anakin smiled down at the little droid. He was done, finally.
It'd taken him forever to find the subnet ligaments that would accept commands from the droid's centuries-old brain, but last night he'd gotten lucky, finding an wonderfully intact Lexson model.
His nimble fingers plugged the last component into place, a cluster of tiny photoreceptors that would complement the droids internal radar, compass and inertial navigation systems. It slid into place smoothly. Anxiously, Anakin used a millimeter-thick latticed steel rod to press the inset power button on the back of the tiny body.
The droid stiffened as it came on line, raising itself to the default 'stand' position. Exposed indicator lights lit up, showing all systems connected properly.
Anakin beamed and did a little victory-hop.f
It worked!
Not that he'd doubted it would work. Anakin had known intuitively that it would work, sort of like he'd known the last droid's power supply would fuse into uselessness. He'd learned to trust the feeling a long time ago, but there was always a doubt that he was right. After all, it wasn't like he could actually be sure.
The droid was small, and wasn't at all beautiful, but it didn't have to be. It was his, all his, as long as no one else saw it. The body was a basic rectangle, 15 centimeters long and 8 across, with four thin legs at the base and four arms (actually they were the same, just the position was different) at the top. 'Top' was defined by a rotating head, where Anakin had connected the photoreceptive 'eyes.'
He bent down and started to whisper some instructions to test its logic and motor functions, but an uneasy feeling caused him to look up. Sure enough, the flapping sound of his master's wings could be heard coming rapidly closer. Hastily Anakin rolled the droid under the counter, hissed "Shut down" at it, and stood up, trying to look attentive.
Watto flew in from the back lot, and Anakin did his instinctual check of Watto's emotions. He felt relief; Watto didn't look like he was in a bad mood.
"Any customers, boy?" Watto asked brusquely.
"Yes, sir, I sold three of those new maintenance droids and an memory unit."
"Got a good price?" he was asked threateningly.
"Yeah, 403 Hutts." A very good sale. Watto grunted.
"Good. Keep manning the counter." Watto spun around and flapped into his office, banging the door shut behind him. Anakin relaxed; another meeting, he wasn't punished for anything, he counted that a victory.
He stood at the counter for another hour, not daring to get out his droid. He sold a duplicator unit for a 100 Hutts, but no other customers came int.
Another hour later, when he was slumping with boredom (he should have been the most patient person in the galaxy by now, but he couldn't stand waiting), he heard a loud noise from outside the shop. He looked up, curious.
There were shouts, increasing numbers of them, and panicked screams and the sound of running feat. The moan of a large pherdu beast and the whine of badly-kept hovercars briefly penetrated the noise, but then dwindled and were swallowed again by the noise of Mos Eisley's panicked population.
Watto's door burst open and smacked against the wall, and Anakin's master charged out with much flapping and cursing in Huttese, Girtese, and Flandish.
"Boy! What's going on? Did you do something?"
Anakin shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know! All of a sudden people just started shouting and running. I can't see anything from here!" And he couldn't, for the door was hidden by a large pile of beat-up machinery and parts.
"Hah! Don't make excuses with me, boy!" But Watto fluttered away to the door, and started shouting out questions at the passerby.
Someone must have pointed, for Watto looked up. His wings stopped beating in shock, but he stayed floating, revealing the suspensor harness he was wearing. Whatever it was must be really shocking, because Watto hated being reminded that he couldn't fly under his own power. His species had evolved on a low-gravity world, and culturally they had always looked down on the 'ground-huggers.'
Anakin hurried towards the door, thinking if Watto forgot to beat his wings then he wouldn't recognize Anakin leaving the counter.
When he got to the arched entryway, most of the people who usually crowded the streets were already gone, leaving an empty market square and abandoned open-air restaurant. Anakin looked up.
His mouth dropped open in shock. Two huge starships hovered over the city, close enough that Anakin thought he could touch them. The light-grey uneven undersides of the boxy ships was clearly visible, as was the darker grey spoked symbol of the Republic emblazoned on said underside.
The Republic.
They stood that way for seconds, master and slave, until Watto shook himself and grabbed a bunch of Anakin's hair. He yanked Anakin back inside the shop, his wings beating again.
"Get inside, stupid boy! They've probably taken a thousand pictures of you by now!"
The trilling of the comm. system came from inside the office. Watto glared at Anakin.
"You get within ten feet of that door and you'll wish you'd never been born," he threatened, then flapped angrily into his office. His voice was muted by the door; all Anakin could make out was that he started shouting, and then abruptly cut off.
Anakin sank down onto a bench and hugged his knees to his chest. The image of the ships, bigger than anything he'd ever seen, seemed to have imprinted itself on his eyes.
A starship!
They were huge, mind-bogglingly so, so big and beyond him he shouldn't even be thinking about them, about the places they'd been, except…
He was. He was thinking of being a Captain in charge of those ships, of being a Sector Governor, a Senator. Anakin Skywalker, the Hero of the Republic.
The door banged open. It was immediately apparent to him that something strange had happened. Watto seemed strange, subdued. His wing beats were slightly off-beat, and his vestigial legs were shivering slightly, a sure sign of tension. As usual, Anakin was a convenient outlet.
"Boy! Get out back! I don't want to catch you even thinking about those off worlders – who cares what they're up to? But since there'll be no customers for a while, go see what you can find in the latest Jawa dump I bought. Go on, I didn't pay to have you stand there!"
Hurriedly Anakin obeyed, coming out into the heat of Tatooine. Watto's backlot was filled with pieces of large machinery, and it was also the place where the tribe of Jawas Watto contracted to scavenge for stray machinery dumped their cargo. A black tarp was stretched across the area, to protect the machinery and potential customers from the sun. That it protected Anakin too was merely a fortunate coincidence. This time, though, he could have done without the tarp: it was solidly woven, and hid the ships.
As he wound his way through stacked machinery to the junk pile, he imagined that he could still feel the ships overhead, feel how they loomed over the tiny speck called Anakin by some and boy by others.
He stopped thinking about the ships and focused on more ordinary things, like searching through the scrap pile for the valuable nuggets of usable technology. He rummaged through the pile with an uncanny skill, seemingly homing in on the important usable machinery. His skill in doing this was the reason Watto was so lenient on him and his mom. He knew it, too, so he shoved aside all thoughts of better places and concentrated. He never could find stuff if he didn't concentrate, and Watto always got angry when he didn't find stuff.
After an hour or so he had an easily fixable Bolo nursing droid, parts that could make a central processor, and some other small fixable things. It was a very good selection, but he needed it to balance Watto's sudden bad mood. It'd be even better if he could just… find that… power cell!
He held up the black stick admiringly. It'd been right were he'd thought it would be, and would certainly get him off early.
The click-click-click of boots caused him to look up, blinking the sweat from his eyes. He froze.
Watto came out of the back of his shop leading three humans. At least, one was identifiable as a human, for he was wearing a light tan uniform sprinkled with grey and yellow pixels. The two people following him were wearing the same colors, but imprinted on full body suits of combat armor, complete with helmet. Those two had rifles as tall as Anakin strapped across their backs, and held smaller guns in their hands.
"There!" said Watto, pointing. "That's the one you want! That's Anakin Skywalker."
Anakin ran, only one destination in mind.
Homemomhelphomemomhelphomemom…
He didn't hear any sounds of people chasing him, and after he slid out of a narrow alleyway onto the street he found out why.
He jerked to a stop, looking down the barrels of at least fifty guns and the cannon mounted on a hover car. As he stood there feeling stupid, two more hovercraft floated over the tops of the building, and he saw other streets just as full of silent, tan-armored soldiers. The starships were still hanging over the city, but their clean lines and the cog symbol had taken on a threatening cast.
A throat cleared behind him, and he turned around. It was the same cloth-uniformed soldier with his two armored followers. Watto was nowhere to be seen.
"You are Anakin Skywalker, licensed to one Watto?" the officer asked.
Anakin nodded warily. "Yes, but you've made a mistake. I'm not anybody important!"
"There has been no mistake. Private, sedate him."
Anakin tried to run, but invisible forces had grabbed hold of him and he found he couldn't move. He struggled desperately, but one of the soldiers by the officer's side raised his weapon.
Dangerdangerdangerdangerdanger…
He felt a tiny pinch on his chest. He still couldn't move, and he felt like he was falling, falling, into…
Darkness.
Commodore Prand leaned back into his chair and sighed contentedly, enjoying the muted sound of his bridge crew securing the ship for hyperspace travel.
His command had done very well and the mission had been executed flawlessly, thanks in large part to the cooperation of the Hutts once they learned – and believed – what it was he was after. It was a perfect example of the maxim force is not always best.
All told the Army detachment had lost 14 men, 12 from resisting locals who hadn't gotten the word to cooperate or were too desperate to care, and another 2 from unfortunate accident. No fatalities among his ships, although there was the usual amount of twisted ankles and broken bones. All well under expectations, and of course the Republic would compensate the families or family-analogues of the dead for their loss.
Prand was content, and untroubled by the morality or reason for what he had done, or by the thought that a mother was even now frantically searching planet side for her missing son. He was a Commodore of the Republican Starfleet, and in an organization this large he could hardly expect to understand a fraction of the orders he received. The Starfleet encouraged exploration of different methods of fulfilling orders, but not questions of the orders themselves. This was just another example of a mission that he didn't understand and never would. His curiosity would go away after a night of drinking at the officer's lounge. It always did.
"Regulation distance reached, sir. All ships register secure and ready for hyperspace initiation," said Navigation."
"The order is given: engage."
The flotilla, which had seemed so large planet side to the boy they carried locked in stasis, yet made small by the vastness of space, stretched, pulled, and vanished.
The ships docked at their respective lunar shipyards in the shadow of the gas giant, and a boxy stasis-unit was quietly transferred from the Gurgon-class flagship onto another ship, the newly arrived naVentu-class super cruiser. 6.3 kilometers long, it would carry the unit to its final destination, thousands of light-years distant: Coruscant.
One final communication was sent as the super cruiser accelerated soundlessly away from the Republic moon shipyard, this one sent to Coruscant instead of from it.
C086312654GRA529JJH
FM:SYSTEM COMMAND, NONT ARATIN
SECTOR GRIS CORLA, 90.3 45.2 87.8
TO:GALSUPSPECCOM
/0000000000/
MISSION STATUS: COMPLETE
ATTATCHED FILES: 3
MESSAGE:
1.ORDER 987654D RECEIVED 0432 2/5/045 STANDARD. APPROPRIATE FORCE LAUNCHED 0840 STANDARD SAME DAY. COMMODORE GRINKEL JELU PRAND COMMANDING. SEE ATTATCHED FILE 1.
2.MISSION COMPLETED SATISFACTORILY. PRIMARY OBJECTIVE ACHIEVED, SECONDARY OBJECTIVE ACHIEVED. SEE ATTATCHED FILE 2.
3.DETATCHMENT RETURNED 1612 STANDARD SAME DAY. OBJECTIVE SECURED AND UNDAMAGED. OBJECTIVE RELAYED TO DESIGNATED COURIER. SEE ATTATCHED FILE 3.
/0000000000/
END