Chapter 1:
This is Kashyyyk sprawling out before you, cocooned within the fertile canopy of the Wroshyr, and home world of my people. Kashyyyk is the womb that gave birth to the Wookiees. Kashyyyk is the gem of the system sharing the same name, shining in the darkness of space like a jade star. For thousands of years Kashyyyk endured strife and turmoil, as have its people. Many times have our ancestors faced opposition as if it was embedded in the genes of the Wookiee race, but still we survive and Kashyyyk endures.
The monolithic Wroshyr trees cover much of the land and reach into the sky to touch the clouds with leafy fingers, yearning for space. Within the branches and wrapped about the trunks in organic and metallic technological mesh are where we make our cities, and where we have sought shelter from the dangers living below in the darkness. Few travel regularly below the cities away from safety. Though, upon a Wookiee's coming of age, one travels below to complete a long-held traditional coming of age ritual that had endured until the occupation. In the chaos of constant war that ritual had all but been abandoned.
It was during those years and at my coming of age where my story begins. In the beginning, with the fall of the Republic, Kashyyyk was blockaded at the influence of our Trandoshan enemies who had joined the Empire. In the beginning, Trandoshans raided our villages, freely taking what and whom they wished for slave labor, and the Empire quickly followed in the same tactics in dealing with the Wookiee people. In the beginning it was a simpler civil war across the galaxy, which for us became the fight for our species' very right to exist. We were trapped in our homes, prisoners within the very cities Wookiees had lived in for centuries. Within one of these smaller villages is where I must truly begin.
I am named Makaashyya after my great grandmother. Back then, I was a quiet child lost in the enchantment of my daydreams, fast approaching my coming of age. I usually kept to myself, seldom talking to others outside of my dwindling family. I instead directed my attentions elsewhere, to fanciful stories once told by village Elders and to the watching of those around me; how they moved, how they talked, how they interacted, how they withstood the darkness of those times, and how they changed as the days of sorrow pressed harder and harder down upon us.
The darkness had swallowed my people's home world of Kashyyyk as the darkness swallows the ancient Wroshyr deep below our cities; so have the oppressors, the Empire, choked our freedom at its roots, removed our liberty, and the will to defy them, or the ability to distinguish between friend or foe.
I lived in a small village with what remained of my once large family. Wookiee families usually are extensive, but by that point in the occupation, only my grandfather, my mother, brother, and I survived. Everyone else had been taken off world or killed by Imperials. Those who survived the frequent bombing raids fell to malnourishment, or to disease that ran rampant, nearly unabated by our feeble attempts at treatment with minimal supplies.
Our once grand shelters had become dilapidated, shaken to their foundations. As the health of the people failed so did our creations. Walkways became choked by vegetation from lack of use. The modern technology integrated into our homes was in disrepair, but the power was out so often that it didn't matter.
Those who survived the bombings and disease were conscripted, and rounded up like cattle, catalogued, inventoried, and collars welded about the neck. There was little we could do but watch as more of our loved ones were lost to us, forced onto an Imperial ship, bound to the floor in chains, and shipped off world, harvested like crops to be fed to the war machine.
My family lived in the battered, skeletal remains of the family home. We spent our days staving off hunger with what food we could find. A fire constantly burned in the middle of the main room, and we all huddled near it each night as we held each other, giving comfort as we listened to bombs explode in the distance. We only separated during the day for brief periods to gather wood and whatever other essentials we could scavenge. Few within the village strayed far, not just for fear of incoming Imperial artillery at any time, but also because the creatures that lurked below our villages had begun to venture to the upper levels, no longer restrained by the Wookiee sentinels that had once stood guard. The oppressors had long since taken them from us. Fresh meat, as the oppressors often mocked during their visits.
We all slept in the common room for the feeling of safety, the feeling of not being alone. That feeling of comfort and confidence disturbed by anything louder than our own voices, but most often by the all too familiar sound of blaster fire, or bombs that kept our nerves strained and on the edge of panic. My brother Syymbacca comforted me each time I woke from a nightmare, or from an explosion that shook the trees. It was me above all else that he cherished and watched over. He would stroke my fur until I fell back to sleep each time I was startled. He would whisper a song, or make light-hearted jokes, anything to make me feel better. His fur in hues of gray and black contrasted with my own of red and blonde. He used to call me sea-eyes; that being the closest translation to Basic for one of the seas on Kashyyyk, tinted in wisps of withering green dotted by the shadows of fish swimming underneath the surface.
Syymbacca had unyielding devotion to the family, and to me as his last living sister. He was always there to remind me that I wasn't alone.Little did I know that one of the most pleasant nights we spent together as a family during the occupation was to be our last. That last night went without disturbance. It was quiet and pleasant, and no battle raged in the distance. The sky was cleared of smoke by a gentle breeze, but you could still see Imperial ships drifting in the sky. We were even fortunate enough to have gathered more food than usual for the nighttime meal. We cooked our food over the undying fire, and ate together as a family almost as if things were normal again. Syymbacca was at my side, and the nightmares left me in peace for that one night.
Daylight came upon us without incident. The first time in a long time we woke with the light of the sun coming in through the many holes in the roof instead to the thundering explosion of a bomb, or the high-pitched squeal of a TIE fighter. I woke before anyone else, Syymbacca still fast asleep beside me. I couldn't remember how long it had been when I last saw him sleep. The rest of the family slept huddled together near the fire that had burnt down to almost nothing. I realized then that it must have been Syymbacca's first undisturbed sleep for quite some time so I didn't bother him.
I carefully rolled away from Syymbacca, and went to the splintered door to look out over our village. It was silent. The birds sang and flew in and out of the countless holes in everyone's houses looking for their own home. Even the great trees did not escape the scars of the occupation. What I once thought were the invincible, muscular arms of the ancient guardians, had been blown off to let fall into the forest, or left hanging by a sinewy thread. Bolts from Imperial blasters were burnt into the bark, pitting it with blackened craters like the surface of a desolate moon, but for that moment it was peaceful. The destruction could not be overlooked. The discontent was palpable. But for a moment it was quiet. There were no children playing, and that only amplified our precarious existence. There were no Wookiees gathering together as a community, too afraid to risk being caught in the open and made an easy target, but at least we had that morning. For a brief moment we were able to grasp a little of what we had before the Imperials. The day went, uneventful, cheerless, but quiet.
Grandfather was well enough to tell a story later that afternoon to my brother and me. Mother struggled out of her depression and listened, savoring each moment. We forgot what was going on around us, and just allowed ourselves to daydream. I wished that that moment could have lasted forever. I wished my brother, my grandfather, my mother, and I could have been lost in that moment in time, immune to death, to sickness and hunger, free from Imperials. It was all too brief a moment, we all realized, when TIE fighters broke our peaceful silence upon the coming dusk of that day.
The H-shaped craft screamed across the sky like birds of prey, rattling the walls of our homes, shaking us from that moment of solitude and back to the war. A dozen of the fighters flew low over the village. The wailing ion engines echoed throughout the trees, stirring the leaves. The branches shuddered as if in fear of what was coming. Wookiees in nearby houses could be heard scrambling about in their homes as if there were anything that could be done to escape. I watched as an Imperial freighter broke from the low-lying clouds, escorted by two TIE fighters. The wood floor of the entire village shook as the ships touched down. The retro thrusters burnt the wood black beneath them and with a final blast, they shut down. The cargo bay door to the freighter opened, and out of its belly marched a squad of Stormtroopers, and an officer, a Colonel. The officer wore the typical, disciplined gray Imperial uniform.
They marched towards us as a group with the officer in the lead. Terrified, we remained inside our homes until ordered out. I peeked out of one of the many holes in our wall to watch them. They stopped in a small clearing in front of the largest grouping of homes and ordered us out and to line up before them as they often did. None of us refused, knowing all too well the consequences of defiance. Two from just my family alone were lost to us for making that mistake. We lined up as ordered, filing out of our homes with our heads bowed in shame and fear. Syymbacca was the first to walk out of our home. I held his hand. My grandfather held my other hand, my mother held onto my grandfather's hand forming a chain. The other Wookiee families came out of their homes the same, joined at the hands to keep in contact with each other as long as possible.
The stormtroopers casually leveled their standard issue E-11 blasters at us from their hips, those blasters as synonymous with Imperial stormtroopers as their armor. The Colonel came up from behind his subordinates and walked along in front of us. As if picking ripe fruit at a stand, he pointed us out without hesitation.
"You, you, you, you and you." He spoke quickly and harshly.
Without even raising my head I knew I had been chosen. My mother cried out, my grandfather desperately tried to silence her by putting his hand over her mouth. I felt my brother's hand grab mine tight. I looked at the Colonel. He returned my look with ire, as if I had caused him some great pain that he was now enacting his revenge upon me for. As if he were looking down upon an insect taunting him to crush it with his boot heel. If it weren't for Syymbacca being with me, I would have been totally lost. I looked to my mother and grandfather and squeezed her hand one last time pleading with her to be silent. I was young but not foolish enough not to know what could happen had she kept wailing. Reluctantly she ended her defiance, and stepped back in line. She lowered her head and looked to the ground with an empty stare; grandfather did the same.
I no longer blame them. For a time I resented my mother and grandfather for not doing something to prevent what happened, even though I knew there was no escape. There was no use in denying or defying the truth. Syymbacca and I and the three others were far from the last to be taken, and the families before us, like ours, were powerless to stop it just the same.
We were bound about the wrists with locking binders and roughly shoved towards the freighter where a medical droid waited just inside the cargo bay. One by one it raised its steely appendages, sprayed us with a delousing mist that burned at first but quickly subsided. It shaved our necks with one uncaring, robotic arm and attached a tracking collar with another. With a spark of heat from its welder it fused the collars about our necks, searing the skin just under the weld. I did my best not to cry; I choked back my sobs that welled up inside me, doing my best to emulate Syymbacca's silent reserve.
We then were shoved into the cargo bay. I looked at my mother and grandfather from the belly of the Imperial beast. They still stood in line, crying as silently as they could, not able to comfort each other for fear of what the Stormtroopers would do if they moved. All of the Wookiees in the line cried for us, and were helpless to do anything as the last of the children were taken from them. Syymbacca hung his head in shame, unable to prevent our fate, unable to ease the suffering of our family. He flexed against his bonds, but even his great strength was futile against the steel binders. The Colonel and the Stormtroopers remained in front of our families with blasters still leveled. The Colonel walked off to one side of them and raised his hand knife-edged.
Why haven't we left yet? What is he doing? I thought in confusion. The oppressors rarely wasted time once they had collected what they desired. I looked to Syymbacca who was as confused as I. We clasped each other's hands tightly, and as quickly as I looked at Syymbacca to return his frail smile, and to look into his pale-gray eyes for some reassurance that not all was lost, it was then that the blaster fire rang out. The crack of thundering laser-blasts as they exited the barrels of their E-11 blasters violently ripped me out of Syymbacca's embrace. I jerked my head to look only to see my mother, grandfather and all of the remaining Wookiees gunned down where they stood. The blaster bolts tore through their bodies and into the houses and trees behind them. They barely had the time to scream, or even try to shield themselves as they were gunned down like pests.
Before my mind could comprehend the images, my mother, grandfather, everyone lay dead upon the ground, contorted in a morbid position as their bodies thrashed. Mother's eyes were fixed upon me in an empty stare. I had looked away when they were all killed. Everything spiraled out of control in the instant I looked at Syymbacca. The realization held me in horrified stupor. I could hardly grasp what was happening around me. It was as if I were dreaming. My vision was blurred, I felt lightheaded, my body seemed to go numb, and then everything went dark and I lost all comprehension of time.
**********
I woke with the shudder of the freighter. My head throbbed and my wrists were bloodied from the bite of the binders. Syymbacca was still at my side sitting with his knees to his chest, silent. As I regained my composure the weight of reality came crushing down on me as I remembered. The image of my mother lying dead, staring at me was seared into the back of my eyes. I started sobbing uncontrollably. Syymbacca leaned over, and took my hands into his. I flinched. I buried my face in his chest. His fur soaked up my tears as I cried, and he gently rocked me back and forth. My head pounded to the beat of my heart, making me feel like I had been beaten over the head. I slowed my breathing and tried to control myself but the cargo bay was filled with the cries and sobs of the three other Wookiees who were taken with us, making it impossible to shut out reality. The anger burned inside of me; I wished they would stop crying. I closed my eyes to block out my senses from the pain. I focused on the rhythm of Syymbacca's heart. It was steady, calm, and strong, unwavering, a beacon. I drifted into an uneasy sleep.
That was the first time I had the dream that overtook my sleep. I saw my family in the darkness of my mind just before they were slaughtered. I was seeing it from the line of Stormtroopers as if I were one of them. I turned to face them, but they grabbed my arms and legs, they pulled at my fur, they tried to tear me apart. I then felt a presence from where the freighter should have been, come towards me, it threatened to consume me. It was a void, like a black hole trying to pull me into it. I heard my name being called out. I strained to turn my head far enough, thinking it was my mother calling me, or Syymbacca, or my grandfather, but they still lay dead on the floor. The voice grew louder as the void approached, and all went dark.