Episode 1: A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...
A bright, ancient star shrine down on the planet below, its lands painted yellow and its oceans a vibrant blue. For a moment, the system felt the first peace in years, that's was until a great cloud loomed over. The star's light snuffed out when a massive grey assault ship hovered over the planet Aradia. The once-proud red stripes of a republic that lasted over a thousand years were gone. The vessel that once defended planets like Aradia was now its oppressors...now, only a glint of that old light peeks through.
[4 months after Order 66]
Not far from the Imperial ship, dozens of civilian and transport ships pass through the planet's orbit, including a rusty cargo ship approaching a small Imperial space station.
The bridge of the Imperial ship received a transmission from the station. Forty-eight-year-old Junior Commander Montar Harcourt notices the message from one of the deckhand's computers.
"What's the assessment?" he asked with a noticeable accent, possessing a measured posture expected of his position.
"The stations looked over each of the documents of the incoming ships and said they're clear to go," the deckhand answers.
Montar gives another look at the ships slowly coming in, squinting his eyes. "I want a scan done of those ships, looked for any undocumented lifeforms and cargo."
Though not part of the procedure, the officer follows his order, his console lighting up as a scan is done to each ship, including the rusty cargo ship.
"Junior Commander Harcourt," the younger Senior Commander said upon arriving on the deck, "why is the ship's scanner on without my permission?"
Montar turns to his Senior, "There's been an increasing number of stragglers and illegal migrants found in ships despite passing 1st inspection. I'm making sure we aren't faced with any unnecessary problems."
"Well, unless command says otherwise, we follow the orders we're given," he states. He walks past his junior, eyeing the crossing ships, "Unless you're actually looking for a Jedi again." The junior gives an annoyed look to his Senior's smug smile.
"Sir, all ships passed 2nd inspection, no sign of any other life reading," the deckhand announces.
The senior smiles at the junior's disappointed sigh, "Hmph, I'll be sure to put this on today's log for the senior caption to review." He waves off his junior as he takes over the bridge, but not before mockingly stating, "perhaps next time you'll find a little Jedi. Heh, if they're even any left,"
Harcourt gives a subdue snare as he warns, "unlike you, I fought beside them... don't underestimate their stubbornness to survive," before leaving to other duties.
/-/-/-/-/
The rusty cargo ship steers away from other entering ships reaching the planet's capital, Aradia City. While it was undoubtedly no Coruscant or other core worlds capitals, it was impressively dense, being over 2,000 sq miles large with the great Azu Ocean bordering the west and its vast croplands to the east. The cargo ship lands in an open circular docking bay. Plums of steam hiss out of the engines, making the vessel tremble before powering down.
A greasy, human male steps out of the pilot seat, banging the power switch to light up his cargo room. "Hey, you didn't die in here, did you?" he mumbles, seeing nothing but crates around till a dark cloaked figure jumps down from the pipes above, startling the smuggler.
The cloaked figure's silvery heels glimmer against her blue and black leggings as she stands up. She groans in annoyance as she dusts off her blue hakama and white kosode robes hidden beneath her black and red cloak. She brushes away any grime from her pale hands, grey rings, and dark sleeves. She tugged down her hood over her blue eyes and dark hair with blue-ish outlines, a small padawan braid brushes against her black, blue, and grey metal mask that obscured her identity. She quickly checked her waist and pockets to ensure nothing was forgotten.
As she silently stood, the smuggler breaths a sigh of relief, "Oh, guess you didn't, saves me doing extra cleaning." Despite the mask, anyone could tell she wasn't smiling and she proceeds to walk away. "It was just a joke." the man grumbled, "and don't walk away from me, boy, not till you paid-" He stops talking when a handful of credit is thrown to his face, causing him to fall over in surprise. He looks up at the young woman, glaring back at him as she opens the back door exit.
He scoffs at her before scrouging up the credits, "Yeesh, fine. I'll shut up. Just get out already."
The seventeen-year-old woman, known simply as F, plants her feet on earth in what feels like weeks. Her eyes squint from the sun rays as a headache begins to set in, but soon realizes it's a disturbance in the Force. She spots clone troopers, now called Imperial stormtroopers, guarding hanger grounds. She clasps her hands together, lowering her head to shroud her appearance. Quietly, F walks out of the shipping port undetected, afraid of what she might do if she looks at these traitors any longer.
Upon leaving, F steps out to the streets of Aradia, greeted with the sight of black & yellow skyscrapers adorning the distance where the center of the city lies. She gazes at these symbols of power and influence while standing amidst the city's impoverish area. A variety of species brush by her, going about their day in rough streets and deteriorating buildings. Using the crowds as cover, F walks up some stone stairs, reaching high enough ground to catch a glimpse of the new colossal building unlike anything else being built downtown.
F winces as the fanfare is broadcasted across the streets. Horns blare to the Galatic Empire's banner being raised on top of an new Imperial checkpoint and outpost, signifying their total control over the district. She keeps moving through the narrow, cluttered streets, quietly checking her credis and sighing at seeing she's dwindled down to her reserves.
F reaches the city's western district main square, where much of the city's middle-class residents seem to live. Here, she notices a large crowd gather around the plaza. F looks from afar only to gasp at the sight of three charred bodies strapped to metal stakes on top of a platform, the horrific aftermath of a public execution. Stormtroopers were posted around the victims, a hologram above them reads:
Two traitors were executed for harboring a suspected, now deceased, Jedi.
Such acts will only lead to your execution and punishment to families.
Report any suspicious activity and be rewarded substantially.
F's pupils' shrank at the barbaric display, her heart dropping at the sight of the supposed Jedi, how they've looked no older than she is. She shuts her eyes at the terrible sight but the people around her continued to chatter. They all either dismissed the horrific scene or ignorantly say it's the Jedi's fault for involving others. The Troopers around discuss last night's burning like they were simple orders, never once questioning it.
Even when F shuts her ears, her Force senses continued to be berated by this storm of apathy and hate.
It was deafening. It was sickening. It was humiliating.
'All these years fighting...this is how you repay us?'
Her right-hand clenches up in anger as jagged rocks and scattered, heavy objects begin to quiver, as if a small earthquake was occurring. Wrath towards everone burned inside her, but returning her sight to the victims reminded her of what's more important.
F's left hand quickly grips her right, stopping the shaking. She takes a deep breath through her mask and bows her head to the fallen Jedi and victims, 'rest peacefully, and may the Force be one with you for all eternity.'
She's forced to leave quickly before any stormtroopers notice. Turning away, F wonders how many more Jedi have suffered the same fate.
As the sun reaches its peak in the cloudy sky, F shifts away from the crowded streets, quietly scaling a decrepit building. What was once part of a vibrant artisan scene was gone, new Imperial law considering it acts of disobedience. Many rooms were rundown, leaving only a tiny space on the corner room of the fifth floor for her to rest. Much of the walls were thin and falling apart. F could feel the cool wind breeze through the cracks and holes. Few spots on the floor were dry enough for her to sit on as echoes of dripping water were heard across the floor.
Taking a moment of rest, F opens up a small cloth sack to reveal an assortment of half-eaten food scraps, edible insects, and a bowl of collected clean water. While her last payment saved her from Imperial hands, it offered little in ways of meals. She's scrounged around anything short of poisonous so as to get some food in her stomach.
F scrunched her eyes at the unappealing meal. 'You had worst, and far less,' she reminds herself of memories best left locked away. Taking off her mask, F exhales a quivering breath, grazing her fingers over a large scar on her chin before eating carefully.
It was far from good, but at least she didn't throw up and even felt slightly rejuvenated. Settling in, she's reminded of days when food was a luxury.
"That's all for rations? These men need more than this!" her past self once asked. Memories of the war feeling more and more painful with each passing day. "How are we expected to win if we can barely fight at full strength?!"
"Perhaps winning shouldn't be the goal this day, but how many people we can keep alive."
"And fight another day," F whispers to herself. A lamenting feeling waves over her, of times that feel like yesterday but also an eternity ago.
"They're here!" a stormtrooper shouts, causing F to reach for her weapon till she inspected the streets below through a nearby window blind. A convoy consisting of two AT-RT walkers, an armored personal vehicle, and a prisoner transport stop in front of a two-story run-down apartment complex below.
'Not one moment of peace,' F scowls, seeing a dozen stormtroopers raid the apartment with no regard of the residents. She can only watch as a family of six Ithorians were dragged and violently thrown to the streets, blasters pointed at their heads.
"Another bunch of hammerheads to deal with," the stormtrooper leader sighed.
"And tailheads too, sir," a trooper announced as a Twi'lek family of four is similarly dragged out.
"Why are you arresting us?!" the mother Twi'lek demands, "We've done nothing but work at honest jobs!"
"That's right, the same with Del and his family," the father gestured to the oldest looking Ithorian, "they've been here longer than us and been nothing but helpful!"
"All of which being done after you all illegally entered this planet without a single document on you," the stormtrooper coldly states, shaking his head at their excuses. "Add on top the fact this isn't your first time escaping from authorities, and I say this was more an unforgivable offense. Some lesson you're instilling to your kids here."
"But we had no choi-" the father twi'lek tried to say before being bashed in the head by the butt of a gun.
"Save your sob stories," the commander spats out before giving another order.
F glare turns to shock as piles of the family's belongings are brought out and burned, the cries below piercing her heart while her blood boils.
"Troopers, pack 'em in and make sure they're taken to their assigned detention cells," the commander ordered, the cold doors of the prisoner transporting opening to a cramped, dark holding cell.
"You soulless-!" The Twi'lek mother screams, along with the roars from the Ithorian parents but are quickly shoved into the transport.
"Should we gag them, sir? It'll make the trip less irritating," one of the troopers asks.
"Eh, let them cry. We're just following orders like any good soldier, understand?"
To anyone else, that excuse was nothing unusual for a clone leader to say, and the troopers below prep to leave. However, to F, those words brought memories of fighting on the battlefield with her clone brethren. "Those words, could these be…" her voice quivers over if her hunch is true. The more she sat on the thought, the more her rage fueled.
"Clones from one of my units, degraded to this..." she mutters, the terrible act below now turned to something utterly despicable to her.
The vehicles ride off as she grips the handle of her weapon.
/-/-/-/-/
The Imperial column drive down a long, wide, quiet road towards the northern outskirts of the city limits, unaware of F's presence as she hopped from one building to another. She eventually stopped and entered the seventh floor of a building, watching as the APC with its AT-RT's on each side make a right below her and approach a small fuel depot to their left. Imperial guards, one of whom was smoking, were loading the last fuel barrels into thier truck in the open garage. F see's her opportunity and reaches out her hand.
As the AT-RT approached, the guard suddenly dropped his barrel, stunned for a moment before seeing the top seemingly open by itself and spilling the flammable liquid to the street. Before he could put away his cigar, his lighter opens itself and is flung to the ground. The depot building erupts in flames in a bright flash as the left AT-RT is caught in the blast. The force was strong enough to cause debris to crash into both modes of transport engines.
Seeing she has three seconds till the clones start pouring out, she uses the Force to grab the second AT-RT pilot and fling him into the alley next to him, tearing down the walker in the process. She threw her other hand to pull out an old DC-15A blaster and took out the APC's gunner. While an undignified weapon to carry, she held close to the tenet of being prepared whenever her lightsaber wasn't in hand.
"Our gunner's dead!" a trooper shouts as the APC doors open with eleven clones dashing out.
"Defensive formations," the commander ordered as they hugged the walls, their vehicle, and the prisoner transport. Its drivers are now out as well with weapons in hand. As he saw nothing, he shouted, "I want the walker covering our-"
"Sir, the pilot's gone," a trooper notified behind him, then a red laser blasts him in the helmet, flinging him to the floor dead.
"Sniper!" the commander shouts before another trooper is shot dead, causing others to scramble for cover behind their transport, the commander dashing to the alley. He peeks to see no continuous fire, F choosing to stay in the shadows.
"Where that'd come from?" a stormtrooper, along with two others, asked behind the flaming depot. The trooper peeks down the street they came in from till he was shot dead as well.
A trooper, alongside another, hiding in between the APC and prisoner car, spotted the shot. "There," he shouts and aims, "in the seventh-floor win-" F was able to take him out mid-sentence before a barrage from the remaining seven troopers and two pilots.
She's forced to duck under the barrage. During all this, she sensed both family's fear and confusion.
"Keeping blasting them!" the stormtrooper commander shouted.
F closes her eyes, intensely concentrating on feeling her surroundings. Despite the blaster fire, she sensed the top of the depot beginning to crack with two troopers underneath. She raises her hand before clenching it, collapsing part of the building on top of the troopers and blocking the vertical-aligned street.
The commander reloaded as he saw this. Old memories start to come back at such a coincidental accident. He dashes in between the vehicles and pulls aside their communication trooper, "radio in command, tell them we're under attack by terrorists, potentially even Jedi."
Just as he commanded, a loud clang is heard before he spots the families dash away under gunfire into a narrow alleyway ahead. He turns to troopers firing on the opposite side of the prisoner transport, "You two, after the prisoners down the alley. Meet up in sector 12; we're making a tactical retreat!"
"Yes, sir!" both nod as they give chase.
He then points to his other remaining man, "get on the gunner, and cover us!" As his radioman was about to call it in, backing up to behind the prisoner where the two pilots were, he saw his third man climb up only to stop and grab his neck. They watch in shock as he's lifted up and thrown into the fire, suddenly screams are heard from behind, and both turn to see burning cuts across their bodies.
"Commander…" the stormtrooper leader whispered, recognizing that lightsaber and those pair of blue eyes anywhere. "So the traitor lives," he says, his hand inching closer to his pistol.
F grips her saber, "I'm not the traitor... it's all of you!"
A blast echoes and a bright yellow light flashes swings forward in a blink of an eye.
/-/-/-/-/-/
The two families run as fast as they can, hearing their pursuers behind them.
"Who was that?! Where are you supposed to go?!" the wife Twi'lek asks, carrying one of their children.
Del speaks in his native language while carrying his grandson.
"Del's right, we're going anywhere away from danger," the father Twi'lek says, nearly out of breath. They make a sharp turn till blasters shoot at the dirt below them.
"Freeze!" the left stormtrooper ordered, both their blasters aimed at the kids. "We got them, now call in-"
A scream is heard in the distance, followed by deafening silence. Everyone stands frozen, flinching at the sound of something approaching.
"It got the others," the other stormtrooper says in a panic toned, "we need to run!"
"We can't let these criminals go!"
"Then mow them down, and let's get out of here!"
The families instinctively move to shield the youngest members as both troopers aim to execute them.
One of the stormtroopers hover over the trigger before the gun was flung from his hands, soon he began to chock.
"Durk!" the other notices, a sound is heard behind them. He aims his blaster at a thrown bright yellow lightsaber before it stabs through his chest. The last trooper is raised to the air as F steps out of the shadows.
She shifts her fingers closer to a fist, about to crush the windpipe of one of her old troops. 'No...these are not my soldiers anymore, they died alongside Master Hitoshi,' she tells herself, eyes alight by a fire of disgust and pain.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she spots one of the kids looking frightened. Her gaze turns back to her shaking hand before letting go. The trooper lay on his knees as he gasped for air. F then pulls her lightsaber back to her hand and reactivates it, 'just finish it.'
The families shut the eyes of the young ones, expecting a gruesome end of the soldier. However, they open thier eyes to the clone knocked out by the butt of her blade.
'No more bloodshed. None of them saw me, and they already recorded the families identity,' F tells herself, unable to bring herself to look at the corpse beside her. The once quiet fury she felt upon discovering some of her old regiment was now gone.
"Is...that a Jedi?" one of the young ones ask for everyone's attention.
The father looks at F, answering, "I don't know, but keep your distance."
F flinches in pain at their answer, closing her eyes as she deactivates her yellow lightsaber. She cloaks herself with her black robe and turns away, telling the families, "I'd leave this city now if I were you. You probably have till tomorrow night before they resume their search for you, once their search for me lessens. Stay together as long as you can, but don't be surprised if you must separate to avoid detection." She points in the direction of the hanger she arrived at, "If this planet's still too dangerous, then you'll need to pay your way off-world, find a new start."
Giving the best advice she could, she begins to walk away when the father steps forward. He says desperately, "What you're suggesting is impossible. We...we have nothing now...if you are a Jedi, then you must protect us, please," he pleads.
She lowers her head; the images of them screaming in plumes of fire barrages her mind, the fear of failure creeping over her. "Then you'll only ensure your loved one's death, like those in the city plaza did," she answers with a whisper. The father and others are stunned, unsure of what to do now. F takes another step before tossing over something, "a thousand credits...that's the best I could do." She watches as the father clasps tightly to the money as she departs, "stay alive out there, and may the Force be with you."
/-/-/-/-/-/
Later that night, sitting back in her temporary hideout, F was restless as the sounds of stormtroopers were heard across the city. Blaring warnings of terrorists causing the death of over a dozen "brave" Imperial troops. She shut her eyes to block out the noise, but it only brought back memories of the commander, the clone she once knew as Sergeant green.
She stares down at her fingers tightly gripping her weapon, her knuckles chalk white, quivering over what she's done. 'What have of you...all of us become?' she asks, strong wind breezing through the room. The neon of the city flashed colorful lights through the window before F stands up.
She puts away her old war blaster and unclasps a small Holocron. She sets it down to the floor, readying her lightsaber and concentrates her unsteady mind. The Holocron glows a bright blue and begins a new message from one of the great Jedi masters.
This is Master Obi Wan Kenobi.
I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place.
This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi.
Trust in the force.
Do not return to the temple; that time has passed, and our future is uncertain. We will each be challenged, our trust, our faith, our friendships...but we must persevere.
And in time, a new hope will emerge...may the force be with you, always.
She exhales a shaken breath when the new message closes. Silence hanged in the air when the Holocron's original message begins, this time from someone she considered one of the greatest Jedi of their time.
Greetings F, I hope you're doing well, wherever or whenever you are now.
I made this special message since...since this war will keep us separated for extended periods of time. So as your master, I'll be making sure your training goes well even from afar. It won't be anything too challenging; this war already has that covered, though I know your fearless heart won't hesitate over such challenges.
F's eyes twitch from Master Hitoshi's words. No matter how many times she heard this, it still hurt. And each time, she forces herself to stay concentrated on the lesson at hand.
This time, we'll be covering Form II basics. You can never go wrong with basic's young one.
Now, take a deep breath.
Through her mask, she swiftly breaths in the air around her, another gust of wind brushed against her hair.
Good, now let it out. Remember that feeling, little one. As if the air were traveling through your body, your muscles, while you perform the technique. This is how you'll tap into your true power even in a duel. Remember, the Jedi defends themselves not with brute strength but with the Force.
"For the Force is everywhere," she says alongside the message. She opens her eyes and swiftly swings her lightsaber, the weapon of the Jedi.
F practices well into the night until sunrise.
A/N: A smaller project idea that came to mind. I fell in love with Star Wars: Visions (it was the best series since The Mandalorian) and kept coming back to "The Village Bride" as I found it stuck with me.
There were many reasons, but one of the biggest was the character F and just how mysterious she was while still being so compelling; also, everything about her is what I love to write with characters.
After thinking about it and brainstorming, I decided to rewind the clock and explore the years between Order 66 and the episode "The Village Bride," along with glimpses of her involvement in the clone wars and how she joined the order. Expect some cameos from other star wars characters and some ideas from the other Vision shorts as well.
This series will be stylized similar to how Samurai Jack, Samurai Champloo, Cowboy Bebop, and the Mandalorian tell thier stories. Sort of episodic while focusing almost entirely on F.
I hope I do the character justice, so please comment on your impression of this opening chapter.