I own nothing. Star Wars Rebels characters belong to you-know-who, and there is no plagiarism intended. The only thing I own is their made-up past and new planets. Please review on my spelling and canon-ism, and give me ideas on future fanfics. Anything to please my fans!
Kanan Jarrus
I could only watch in horror as Cyndia, with all its beautiful natural preserves and miners, blew up. Tears fought at the back of my eyes, but I forced them away. This was no time for remorse; Gorse was just another planet doomed by the Empire.
I hopped on a road-side speeder with my bag and money slung over my shoulders. Hot-wiring the engine, I mentally plotted the way to the nearest non-Empire planet: Vanit. It was an extremely rocky planet with hundreds of discovered and un-discovered Twi-lek and Wookie villages, mainly full of escaped slaves. Now there's a place full of adventure, where no one will judge me. And most importantly, it's got places to drink.
As the speeder took off with a roar, I didn't stop to look back. I didn't owe anything to anyone. Not to Okadiah, not to my bosses, and definitely not to that deranged lunatic, Skelly, that blew up the moon. Or, more accurately, made plans to blow up the moon and gave them to the Empire. That was even worse.
When I got to a port, I took a scan of the nearby ships. Most of them were run-of-the-mill freighters, carriers, and Imperial ships, but one particularly caught my eye. It was supposed to be on cloak, disguised as a maintenance ship for anyone who cares, but my force abilities have always helped me see through these veils. It was almost shaped like a gem, with a bubble-like cockpit forward and another for a gunner seared just above. It was a nice ride compared to anything else in the lot. I shook my head. If I can notice it, who says the Empire won't?
I ended up taking a simple rental, probably a honeymoon or vacation vehicle. I left a note saying that I'll bring it back, which was true, but it won't be me bringing it back.
I set the hyperspace coordinates, dimly hoping that I wasn't a light-year or two off again, like last time. First time I flew while drunk, not the first time I was an idiot. The ship zoomed into hyperspace much sooner than I expected, and I ended up on the ground, and for once, it had nothing to do with a fight. Not that I lost a lot.
It was times like this, when no one can track me, when no one can watch me, that I even considered using the force. Considering was dangerous enough, because thoughts lead to actions, and actions lead to suffering. My own parody on an overused, overstressed Jedi saying. Against my every instinct, I raised my hand, and concentrated. The air hummed around me in a way that I haven't felt in nearly a decade. I couldn't. Quickly I put my hand down, and searched on the ship for a piece of scrap metal. Yelling, I punched into it, my fist throbbing but leaving an indent. Attacking something was the only way for me to forget. That, and alcohol. I sighed. In my mind, I replayed that battle with Master Depa Billaba. The battle that had cost her life, and shown to me who the true enemy is. The Empire.
She stood silently at the door of my room, listening in. What she heard was the sound of slowed breathing, the normal sleeping routine of a teenager. What she didn't know was that the teen was listening to her in return, his lungs screaming for air, trying to maintain this aura of calm. That is, until he heard something interesting. They were footsteps, footsteps that clanged with every step and with uniform precision; getting them where they wanted to go and nowhere else. My pulse quickened, and with it, my breath. Master heard it too, but by then it was too late. I heard the screams as the soldiers invaded all the rooms, heard the clashes of battle and the thumping of bodies hitting the ground, never to rise again. I listened in fear as children and knights alike were dragged out from bed and killed, and those who did fight, like Master Depa Billaba, were quickly stricken down. I heard it outside my door, just mere meters from where I was standing, hardly daring to make a sound. "Run!" She had shouted, "Run and never look back!" I'd snapped out of whatever trance I was in, and bolted for the window. Its lock was force engaged, like much of the doors and… I stopped thinking there. If they could access the doors…
It always pained him to think about it, about what he could've done differently. If he'd woken up earlier, maybe did a late-night training session, he would have heard them earlier and sounded an alarm. Or he could have rushed out of his room at that point, taken on whatever challenge faced him, even the prospect of the first Sith warrior in over a millennium. Then maybe his master would be alive. Maybe the Jedi would still be revered and honored.
But he didn't. He had run, caring about his safety, and his alone. The same way he has for the last 9 years. If I did it then, why not finish my life, knowing that I can never help anyone, knowing that I'm a coward at heart?
He hadn't even noticed that he was out of hyperspace, the ship floating dormant outside the gravitational reach of any planet. This is a good place to rest, he thought, and lay down on the floor and slept.