Trooper

A Star Wars story that has long been in the making, and only now making its way into my list of stories. It's not what the books in stores you find will say. But it is what I have to say. Even though it is more about an original character than Luke and the others, I hope you enjoy it, and be prepared to enjoy the trip. It's going to be a bumpy ride. (In an action sort of way).

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Summary

The Death Star was destroyed. It was the pinnacle of hope for the Rebellion, and the beginning of an even greater struggle for freedom for the Republic. Yes, the Emperor was destroyed, and there was balance in the Force once again. Yes, the greatest weapon known to humanoid-kind was utterly destroyed. But…But…

Commander Luke's struggle was far from over. The Rebellion's fight was far from complete. A power struggle for the throne of Emperor, far greater than the galaxy had ever seen before, now caused even the stars to tremble. For an ever greater weapon was being created in secret, and an ambitious young Lord with power enough to control the Empire assumed command. The plans were laid, and with his growing ability to use and understand the Force, Luke was faced with creating a military that would be strong enough to defend the struggling Republic.

It took several years, but with the Rebellion's combined forces, a strong Rebel space station and base called the Black Hole was created and put into use. More recruits began showing up from all over the galaxy—people who were fed up with the Empire and wanted a Democracy once again. They were trained to be Troopers of steel, impressive fighters that none had seen the like in years, thanks to Luke Skywalker and Han Solo's—and a retired General that everyone called Trainer's—special training. These Troopers were called the Rebellion's Elite, and they wore battle uniforms not unlike the Empire's trooper outfit. But these outfits were like the suits of the Clone Troopers from long ago, with much more advanced technology.

With thousands of Elites being trained everyday, and the Black Hole becoming more fortified, Luke Skywalker began to look for someone else to take the ruling position. He was not fortunate enough to find anyone to replace him. And so he chose those who he trusted the most—the newly-wed Han and Leia Solo. With a Tri-force leadership that was the beginning of a Republic, and the aid of many planets, Luke set up as best a government as he could, one that used the knowledge of the Force.

And of course, he trained more Jedi. Not very many, but only those that could be trusted to complete the training and be able to understand what being a Jedi meant. And understandably, not very many could be found. Still, as the years went on, and the attacks from the rebuilding Empire began to grow more taxing and frequent, things began to look up for the galaxy.

And more years went by………the Black Hole struggling and growing…and the Empire slowly grew stronger…

Chapter One
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The aftershock of an explosion rocketed the small one-man fighter ship, the Elite inside bracing himself against the impact. The Empire's fighters were getting more accurate. Perhaps the new Emperor was smart enough to train his clone troopers to be even more deadly, if that was possible.

"Stupid Clones," mumbled another Elite through the com. "They don't stop, even when they lose. The Emperor keeps sending them out, even though they never win. And our losses keep adding up!"

Troop B, the second-highest Elite in rank, smiled grimly. "Their losses are more," he stated. "You have three on your trail."

"I see them…"

The battle continued, quick and deadly, with chaos on every side. It was almost every day that they faced some sort of attack, and yet even the big ones only lasted a few hours. The Emperor was holding back for something more catastrophic, something that might destroy the Rebellion for good. But the frequent attacks were lowering the Rebellion's numbers, and everyone knew it. Numbers didn't win a battle, necessarily, but they counted for everything in the long run. With less numbers, they were more of a target to renegade fighters or Bounty Hunters, and those kinds always created problems.

"They have another assassin with this group," Troop F commented through the com, hissing through his teeth as a blast seared his ship. "And he's good."

"We'll take him down together. What sector are you in?" Troop B glanced at his radar on his ship computer, using almost no effort to find his compatriot and friend. He guided the ship as though it were a blade cutting through the air, weaving around a crossfire and locking onto the assassin's ship with his blasters. The thrill of the flight caused his heart to beat faster, and he dodged blasters at an impossible speed. He was good at flying, and he loved it. He loved being out in space more than he loved being stuck on the space station where it was always metal…always cut off from everything natural. At least in space he could see the stars and the planets…planets with water and trees. He missed trees the most. But there was no time to think about everything he had left behind.

The assassin wove through the crossfire like he had been born to do it, and everything he aimed at was destroyed. He did not shoot very often either, and that bothered Troop B. This assassin was good…far better than any of the Elites had yet encountered. And this assassin was trained on Troop F, struggling to lock onto the Elite's franticly moving ship. He had not fired yet, and Troop B knew that when he did, Troop F would be dead.

"I can't shake him!" Troop F called, an anxious strain in his voice. "He'll have me in a second!"

"Shoot," Troop B hissed, firing at the assassin ship. The assassin dodged it like it was nothing, locking his blasters onto his target. Frantic, Troop B kept firing, furious that his efforts were useless. Why couldn't he hit the ship?

"He's as good as you are, Dann, as if the Force were with him." Troop F exhaled through the com. His voice was hard, resigned. And Dann—Troop B—paled. He knew what that voice meant.

"Don't do it, Simon," Dann urged. "We'll get him…"

Troop F ignored the plea. Troop B watched helplessly, firing at the assassin with everything he had and not succeeding, as Simon armed his ship and switched into full reverse. His ship collided into the assassin's, going up into another rocketing explosion. The assassin was dead…Troop F with him.

"No…" Troop B slammed his hand against the dashboard, turning his ship back to the waning battle. His mind was screaming out in agony and anger, but he was too highly trained to let that affect him—not yet. His mind went back to the battle…weaving, defending, destroying…until he heard the call from Troop A to return. And blindly, he pulled back to the Black Hole, avoiding the debris floating in space. It would be cleaned up by the other Troopers held back in reserve after everyone cleared the field.

No sooner than he landed his craft, a Trooper ran up to him. "Troop B," the lower-rank Trooper saluted. "The Commander wishes to see you in the briefing room. He says it's urgent."

Troop B nodded, still angry, and headed toward the room in a brisk pace. He was getting sick of all the death. He wasn't supposed to let it get to him…but it did, constantly. And now Troop F was gone too, with all the other brave Elite who died every day in battle. Why did the war never end?

He entered the room where Commander Skywalker was talking to Trainer, a retired General that also happened to be the Chief Medical Officer on the station. By all respects he should be long dead, but he was still alive, and looking just about as old as Commander Skywalker himself. It didn't make any sense, but Troop B figured it had something to do with the Force.

"Troop B," the Commander sounded relieved to see him, and nodded to the salute that Troop B made. "I know this is sudden, but I need you to accompany a small force to Endor to pick up an ambassador. We don't know for sure, but something tells me that the Empire will try to attack on your way back. I need one of the best leading the defense. How soon can you be ready to go?"

"As soon as you command, sir." Troop B nodded his head respectfully, his insides groaning. Another mission? He had just returned from one only yesterday. And so soon after a battle as well….

"Good." Commander Skywalker's face softened, and the look that Troop B could only describe as fatherly came back into his face—a face too soon etched with lines of worry and leadership. The Commander held a position that no one envied, a position that everyone knew he did not want. And yet there was no one else to take it. But he was more of a Jedi than he was a Commander, and Troop B knew that he felt the pain of every death just as much—if not more so—than everyone else. "I'm sorry about Simon," the Commander spoke again, using Troop F's name. He knew every single one of his Troopers by name, and no one forgot that. "I know you two were good friends."

"It happens," Troop B stated, his tone more bitter than he wanted it to sound.

"Dann…" The Commander sighed and shook his head. "You're too young to be bitter. It never does any good anyway."

"Too young, perhaps sir," Dann replied curtly. "But war does not care about mine or anyone else's age." He did not want to stand here any longer, and his exhaustion was catching up to him. The Commander always made him feel vulnerable, and as the second best Elite in the force, he did not want to be vulnerable, no matter what his age might be. "I will prepare for the mission right away." He saluted, turned, and walked briskly out of the briefing room. His sharp ears—sharper than most everyone's on the station—caught the last words spoken between the two men in the briefing room.

"You look on him like a son," Trainer observed, watching Dann leave.

"He is the age of my children," Luke sighed, rubbing his head. "And he's one of the youngest in the Elites."

"You're just making up excuses."

"Well you're not much better. I've noticed that you keep an eye on him more than anyone else."

"But I have good reason," Trainer insisted sardonically. "Wherever Dann goes, trouble goes with him. Someday he's going to get injured badly, and I want to be there to save him."

"Because you couldn't save his father?"

Trainer left the question unanswered, or his answer was too quiet for Dann to hear. Troop B walked to his small quarters, shivering with a feeling he could not understand. People treated him different…talked about him when they thought he wasn't listening…and yet asked so much from him. And all because of his father, whom he had never known.

"I don't understand," Dann whispered to the quiet of his room. "Who am I that I am any different from anyone else? Why didn't I die instead of Simon? And why does the Commander treat me like a son when he already has two?" Dann took off his helmet and rubbed his aching eyes. He had to be ready to leave any minute, and he was so exhausted that he felt like throwing up. Sinking onto his military-looking bed, he closed his eyes and decided to rest for a little while. Even the top Elites could not give 100 percent 24-7. Even if they were only 21.

(------)

"This stinks," Leia Skywalker complained to her brother, staring at the stars with her chin in her hands. "He KNOWS we are just as good as his Elites, but he wont let us join them."

"He'd rather have us be Jedi," Luke replied. He was named after his father, the original Luke Skywalker, and carried an appearance almost exactly like his. But he had his mother's eyes. Slowly he stood from the chair next to his sister and began pacing, his mind roaming to many different places. "And he doesn't want to lose us," he continued as an afterthought.

Leia turned to look at her brother, a sardonic smirk on her face. Like her mother, she was small in stature, and had a graceful appearing. Her dark hair, darker than her mother's or her aunt's—who she had been named after—was so long that it touched the floor, and had to be pulled back and tied in extravagant ways. But for all her grace, Leia was made of steel, stronger than her brother at times. She had trained to be an Elite because her father could not deny self defense, but he would not let her or her brother join his forces. "You know, we could disguise ourselves and join…" she said, her eyes getting the dangerous twinkle that meant she was either planning something big or she was getting hyper.

"Leia, you know what Dad would think if he found out…"

"You got the same training I did, and you are even more adventurous than I am. And that's saying a lot. I KNOW you want to join just as much as I do." Leia turned her attention back to the stars, her eyes distant.

"I know but…"

"Luke, you're a chicken."

"He has good reason to keep us from joining," Luke frowned, and a dark look passed over his face. "Our brother Anakin would not be in his present condition if Dad didn't let him join the Elites. He's retarded now because of that explosion. His whole brain was completely damaged, and I don't want to see the same happen to you."

"We could do good there," Leia insisted, ignoring the pain in Luke's voice when he talked about their older brother. She felt the same pain, but she didn't like to show it. It hurt too much. "We could make a difference!"

"We can also make a difference by continuing our training to become Jedi. And you could do a lot of good as an ambassador."

Leia's face wrinkled in exaggerated disgust. "Yuck, no way! I'd hate that and you would too!" She shook her head and crossed her arms. "I'm going to join, whether you like it or not. You can come with me, or you can tell Dad. Make your choice. Mom is too busy taking care of Anakin."

Luke's face twisted in conflict, and then he turned away. When he looked back, he had an uneasy expression on his face. "I'll go with you, but only to make sure that you stay out of trouble." He shook his head. "I don't like this."

"Yes you do," Leia grinned. "You're blood is pumping faster just thinking about it." She stood and walked toward him, planting a kiss on her twin brother's cheek. "You were born to be a pilot and a fighter, and you know it. So was I."

"How are we going to become Elites?" Luke ignored the truth in her statement, still upset.

"Disguise." She walked to her desk and retrieved a pair of scissors. "Would you help me cut my hair?"

Luke's face paled. "Leia no! You can't…." he paused, knowing that no matter what he said, she would do it anyway. He shook his head angrily. Their Aunt Leia could not be as reckless as his sister! Where did she get it? Probably from their grandmother or something, but who could know for sure? No one even knew who their grandmother had been. Perhaps it was their grandfather Anakin's fault.

Leia began cutting her hair, her eyes bright with slight regret as the beautiful dark locks fell to the floor. And Luke looked on with conflict in his eyes.

(------)

"Going on a mission again?" Troop E asked, raising his eyebrows. He shook his head and stuffed his food into his mouth. "You're crazy."

"No, I'm good." Dann sighed and continued to eat, his chewing mechanical and routine. He almost couldn't taste the food. Not that is was that good anyway. He took a sip of water, wishing he could have had a few more minutes of much-needed sleep. At the rate he worked, he would be old before he turned 22!

"Maybe, but if they're sending you out so soon it can only mean trouble. This mission must be important…"

"Forget it, E. I'm not telling you what it is. I can't." Dann forced a smile and finished eating. Then he downed the rest of his water. "It's going to be hard enough with all the Troopers we lost to that assassin, so you guys better stay on your toes. We can't afford to lose any more of our best."

"That assassin knew who he was attacking," Troop E nodded grimly, the pain of the recent deaths crossing his face. He rubbed his scalp where his short-cropped red hair was beginning to grow too long for army standards. "We're going to have to replace Troops F, G, H, and J. Not to mention all the others."

"Replacements are hard to get used to," Dann admitted. "I always wish that the old one was still alive. It makes it hard on the replacement. No one likes them for a long time."

"You can't blame us," Troop E mumbled. "And Simon was one of the best. I don't think anyone could ever replace him."

"We'll both be wrong if we think that." Dann stood and picked up his tray, realizing that he had to leave very soon. He offered a dim smile before heading out, depositing his tray where it would be washed and placing his helmet back over his head. Like Troop E, his pitch-black hair also needed a trim soon. He never had enough time for those things though, not with the way the Empire's attacks were increasing. Absently, he was glad he was not Commander Skywalker. How much worse that job must be.

Then he headed toward the docking bay. He was mildly surprised to see the Commander Himself waiting at the dock, probably with some last instructions. Troop E was right—this mission was definitely more serious than Dann was led to believe.

"Dann, I need to speak with you," the Commander said quietly. It was when his voice was quiet and calm that everyone feared him the most, and Dann frowned underneath his helmet. But he stepped up and saluted, waiting for the serious words that he probably didn't want to hear. "The ambassador we are picking up is extremely important, and is to be protected at all times. Troop A is busy with something else, and so you are the only one I can trust to do this mission." The Commander's face was grave. "I fear that this mission might fail, and you are the only one who can even hope to make it succeed."

Dann stiffened, then nodded slowly, professionally. "Sir, if I understand you correctly, what you mean is that I am going to have to do the impossible, completely outnumbered, and try to save an ambassador who is fated to die anyway?" He almost groaned, but didn't. He almost laughed, but he didn't. "Am I suppose to laugh? How am I supposed to even do this?"

The Commander shook his head, sighing. "I don't know how, only that you are the one who has to go. I cannot see whether the ambassador must die, only that if you do not go, all will fail."

Dann swallowed, managing to keep his outside appearance strong. "You ask the impossible of your youngest Elite, because of a vision in the Force?" he didn't know if he could fully trust that, but knew he didn't have a choice. Before the Commander-Jedi could respond, he saluted and walked toward his ship. "I'll try to bring the ambassador back in one piece, sir." But that was all he could promise.

And so with a sense of impending doom, he fired up the engine and followed the transport ship out of the station. He glanced back, wondering if he would ever see anyone again.

"Who knows, Simon," he sighed. "I might be next."

He made the calculations for the jump to light speed.

(------)

That's all I have for now, and I hope you all don't kill me because it's lame or anything. I really enjoy writing this, so bear with me. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. If you don't…..let me know. Just because you owe it to me after reading this far.

God bless you all, and please review! You rock!

--rika195