No one arrives on Centrallis by mistake. There are no accidents on that backwater planet. Despite how unassuming it seems, every event happens for a reason and every trader, refugee, soldier and citizen was guided here by a strange feeling or indescribable power, an unknown force.
Teller Vonn, however, didn't know that. At least, he didn't yet. As he landed his ship in the city of Davn, all the young man could think about was finding a warm bed in which to sleep and forget.
"What is that piece of junk doing in my hangar?" asked the dockmaster, as the ship's only crewmember disembarked.
"I needed a place to land," Teller told him.
"You chose the wrong landing space, punk. Now, get that thing out of my sight, before I claim it and have it scrapped for parts."
"Knock yourself out." Teller tossed him the code-key to unlock the ship and strolled past the dockmaster without another word. He only stopped once to look back at the ship, observing its horrific plasma burns and the cargo hold that had been torn apart by the vacuum of space; then he walked away, forever.
Centrallis was a strange place and Teller quickly realized this as he took in his new surroundings. Davn was unlike anything he had ever seen, with its grey sky and blue pavement, and the collection of strange creatures walking through the streets.
He had no idea of where or how to start building a new life for himself. All he had were some extra clothes and a few contacts in the city.
"Gather round, citizens. This is a sight you will surely wish to see."
Teller turned his head toward the voice and saw a crowd starting to gather. It was in an open marketplace with a large platform in the center, made of the same strange blue permacrete as the streets.
Four humans stood on the platform, high above Teller and the rest of the crowd. Two were clad in crimson armor, their faces covered by matching helmets with silver, reflective eyes. The jumpsuits they wore underneath were dark violet, barely distinguishable from black, and their red crystalline armor plating was jaded and shimmering, like shattered gems cast across blacktop. Even the helmets looked like they would cut you, if you dared run your hand across the brow.
The third person on the stage was a woman dressed in a coat that was also deep crimson, but made of leather with black metal studs. Instead of a helmet, her head bore a black tricorne, which she pulled off and held against her heart, as she stood before the growing crowd.
"What do you have to say for yourself, before the trial begins?"
"That this is absolutely ridiculous."
"We'll see about that."
The woman was speaking to the fourth person standing on the platform, an old man with a noose tied around his neck. Even from far away, Teller could make out the red marks where the metallic rope dug into his flesh.
"Do you know what you have been charged with, Mr. Vix?"
"Something idiotic, I'm sure."
"Not today. This isn't the first time we've met, is it? You've slipped through our fingers twice before, despite our efforts to contain you. Now, we know why."
"You plan to execute me for being lucky?"
"No, I'm going to execute you for being a Jedi."
Everyone in the crowd whispered to one another. Teller couldn't pick up the specifics, but one thing was clear; everyone had a strong opinion on the jedi, whether good or ill.
"You're an idiot and so is anyone who believes this charge."
"We'll see about that. Let the trial begin."
The woman drew a pistol of gleaming silver and fired it into the air. Silence swept over the crowd.
"Shaun Vix, the Blood Battalion hereby accuses you of being a Jedi. How do you plead?"
"Not guilty, of course."
"Very well. You have escaped our righteous custody before, have you not?"
"Yes."
"You, a single man, escaped from a well armed force of soldiers?"
"Just get to the damn point."
"As you wish. There is simply no way that a single man could escape from an army, but somehow you did. What can we conclude from this?"
"That you need a better army?"
The crowd snickered along with Vix, and though she moved on quickly it was obvious that the woman was bothered by his retort.
"We can conclude that you had help. Most likely by supernatural means… or perhaps not."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm not saying anything, Mr. Vix. The fact is that if you did escape on your own, past an army and our impressive defenses, then we have no choice but to assume that you are a Jedi and too dangerous to be kept alive."
"Maybe you're underestimating me."
"Or maybe you had help. Maybe a person or group assisted in your escape."
Vix looked down at his feet, where the trapdoor was ready to drop from beneath him.
"So, what will it be? Is there someone else you'd like to turn in or do we need to kill you?"
The old man didn't even stop to think. "I suppose I don't have a choice, then." He turned to the crowd and spoke boldly. "I am a Jedi."
As the others around him began to frantically question how this could have happened, Teller looked at the woman onstage and saw the seething anger boiling under her skin.
"Fine then. May you become one with the force, Mr. Vix." She turned to one of the armored soldiers who, after receiving only a small nod, pulled a lever and let the old man drop.
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading Star Wars: The Fallen Ones!
There are only a few chapters left in the story, with the final one slated for release on April 3rd, 2021. I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to message me or leave reviews, because I'm always open to criticism and I want to make this story the best it can be.
Anyway, let me know what you think of how it turned out, after more than a year of work.