Kenobisaqt: *in don't say a word voice* I'll never tell... *normal voice*
Actually I will, just not till the third chapter.
Thank you all who reviewed!
Chapter 2
Maybe Hope
"It is not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog." - Mark Twain
20 years later....
It was raining. It had been raining for days, making the grounds treacherous and causing floods. The constant fall shocked everyone. It was, after all, Coruscant, who ever heard of endless rainfall there?
Of course, Didi declared to any Jedi or ally of the Jedi who would listen that the rain was purposely trying to stop them. Them being the resistance force against the Empire, Them being the last remaining Jedi.
There were thousands of Jedi before the hostile takeover of the republic. Then, a terrible thing happened. There was an explosion. No, the word explosion doesn't do what happened justice. It was a catastrophe, a dooms day. The air reeked of death and destruction for months after it. The temple had blown, and how the Jedi did not sense the danger, no one knows. Some say it was an inside job done by someone who was close to the Jedi, others say that it was inevitable, and that the Jedi were never that powerful. They say that it was all an act, and that they were just talkers. No one will ever know, unless of course the emperor suddenly decided to share all with his "people." The odds of that happening were very slim indeed.
Only four Jedi survived the explosion, Yoda, Mace Windu, a small child named Una Halo who was with Yoda at the time, and Garen Muln. Everyone else either was on a mission or died. By the time the remaining Jedi were able to regroup there were only forty-six. Twelve decided to walk; seven were killed in various battles within the next year. Twenty-seven warriors, even if they were Jedi, would be no match for the thousands of droids and soldiers that the emperor had. Therefore, they had to wait, and do for the people what they could.
Siri shivered as the rain came down harder. She and her apprentice Ferus had been on a mission to Malaster when the Jedi massacre had come about.
She entered the small abandoned café that had once belonged to Didi and Astri. She dropped her cloak to the floor and bent down by the makeshift fire.
"We were getting worried," said Adi, who had also been on a mission when the Jedi had been killed.
"I had to avoid the Corts," explained Siri. The Corts were the emperor's police, corts being a word from the old language of Telos, meaning death. "They were doing card checks."
Ever since the emperor took over everyone had to carry a card that stated their name, age, occupation, species, and a serial number. The serial number, if typed into the guard's handheld computers, brought up everything but the person's favorite color. All the person's medical records, their previous jobs, a picture of their prints, everything. Obviously, the former Jedi didn't carry cards. It'd be like putting up a flashing neon sign that said "Jedi here."
"Thank the force they didn't catch you," breathed Adi as she handed Siri a drink. "Where's Ferus?"
"He's escorting Nikka back to the castle, he knows how to hide better then she does, we wouldn't want her getting caught," answered Siri.
"No, that could ruin everything," agreed Adi.
Nikka was a servant in Emperor Conleth's castle. At least, she was a servant if you used the term "servant" loosely. Slave is the word that Siri would have picked. Nikka was also the Jedi's greatest ally.
"Did you get the castle blueprints?" Mace asked, straight to business as usual.
"Yes," said Siri, pulling the papers from the protective area of her cloak. "I don't see what good they will do though, we don't even know if this stone even exists, let alone if it's in the emperor's castle."
"To be completely honest Siri, I don't see their use either," admitted Mace. "Garen asked me for them, he wouldn't give me all the details why. I intend to send them to him on Dagobah."
"When is he getting back?" Adi asked.
"I'm not sure, but what I do know is that we're in for an interesting conversation when he does."
~*~
Zackery tried to get down from the palace window without a sound, he really did, But unfortunately fate was against him.
The palace was his prison, his cage that held him in and trapped him. It kept him from being himself, and he could only do what Emperor Conleth allowed him to do. So, he threw a rope from his bedroom window and started climbing out.
As he slid down the rope, by some mad coincidence, the maid a level above him decided that she was going to throw her garbage out her window. Why she did this he'll probably never know, but what he did know was that a split second later a bag of filth came crashing down on his head, knocking him cleanly off the rope. Now that my friends is bad luck.
What's worse? He somehow managed to hit every garden window ledge, every speeder, and anything else that might have been in the air underneath him. He also did quite a bit of yelling, as would anyone. Add all this together, throw in a couple hundred guards trained specially to listen for such things, and you have Zackery's scenario.
He hit the ground with a loud thump, his entire body aching. He groaned a little before shoving himself to his feet and limping to a nearby alley as quickly as he could. Which, considering the fact that he had just fallen who knows how many feet, was not very fast. He bit his tongue and prayed to whoever might be listening to keep the guards from finding him.
"Stupid slaves, always trying to run away," he heard a nearby voice say. Husky, obviously male. "Why can't they just be happy that they have food and shelter? Why do they need their freedom? It's overrated."
"What I want to know is how they're deactivating their collars," came another voice, this one female.
The collars that they spoke off were tracking devices placed on slaves that, when they got a certain distance from the palace without permission, would kill them. In explanatory terms, it could blow their heads from Coruscant to Telos. Very few of the collars still worked though. One slave discovered the secret to disarming the collar, and that was to run it under a nuclear hot light. At first this was out of the question, the radiation in a nuclear hot light would kill them just as easily as the collar itself. Then a new invention was made. A kilarian technician invented a tool used mainly for thieves who wanted to break into an aristocrat's home. The slaves found use for them, at least one part of them. The power cell of the thief's tool was the same thing that powered a nuclear hot light. Therefore, nearly everyone's collars were disengaged.
It was common knowledge that the slaves could walk out at any moment, even the emperor himself knew. Why he didn't do anything about it, no one knew. Maybe he knew that the slaves wouldn't leave because they feared him too much. Zackery had stopped guessing years before. He knew that he would never be able to desecrate the layers of Emperor Conleth's mind.
A third voice floated to his ears.
"What are you looking for?" Female, middle-aged. Scared, tired, sad, her husband had died the month before and she was left trying to raise three children with no help from anyone..... her emotions washed over Zackery all at once, enveloping him so deeply that he could barely breath.
//Stupid power//, he silently though. //It's never there when I need it, but always there when I don't want it.//
Zackery was so lost in his own thoughts and his attempts to erase the woman's grief from himself that he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, and that can be dangerous when you're a palace runaway.
The next thing he knew, two rough arms had wrapped themselves around him, and all thoughts of the women were gone. He struggled against the guard, but he was so small compared to him.......
"Be careful," the woman snapped at her partner. "Don't hurt him, do you know who this is?"
"Let me go," Zackery managed to yell.
"Oh, I don't think so," said the male guard. "Emperor Conleth is going to be very pleased with us for bringing you back."
"And what right do you have to take him?" Zackery stopped struggling as a calm, terse voice floated to his ears.
"Empire business," said the woman, who Zackery, after getting a good look at her, remember her name was Zheara. "Move along gramps."
The man stepped out from behind the shadows. He was dressed simply, and had long brown hair dusted with light gray.
He smiled warmly at them before lifting a hand about mid high. "This boy is not who you are looking for, he said in a silky voice. "Perhaps you should go back to the Emperor and tell him that the slave got away."
"He's not who we're looking for," the female guard said to her comrade in an unintelligent voice. "We should go back to the palace."
The man dropped Zackery and followed the female out of the alley.
He stared at their retreating backs in shock before looking up at the man. "How did you do that?"
"A trick I learned several years back. You're a slave in the palace, correct?" The men walked over and stood in front of Zackery. His blue eyes cut through him, making Zackery think that he could read his every thought.
"Yes," Zackery said softly. "That's why the guards were after me, I was running away from the palace."
The man studied Zackery for several moments, silently dissecting him. Zackery shifted uncomfortably.
"I know of a safe haven where you can hide," the man said calmly. "My name is Qui-Gon."
A/N: Please Review!
Thank you all who reviewed!
Chapter 2
Maybe Hope
"It is not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog." - Mark Twain
20 years later....
It was raining. It had been raining for days, making the grounds treacherous and causing floods. The constant fall shocked everyone. It was, after all, Coruscant, who ever heard of endless rainfall there?
Of course, Didi declared to any Jedi or ally of the Jedi who would listen that the rain was purposely trying to stop them. Them being the resistance force against the Empire, Them being the last remaining Jedi.
There were thousands of Jedi before the hostile takeover of the republic. Then, a terrible thing happened. There was an explosion. No, the word explosion doesn't do what happened justice. It was a catastrophe, a dooms day. The air reeked of death and destruction for months after it. The temple had blown, and how the Jedi did not sense the danger, no one knows. Some say it was an inside job done by someone who was close to the Jedi, others say that it was inevitable, and that the Jedi were never that powerful. They say that it was all an act, and that they were just talkers. No one will ever know, unless of course the emperor suddenly decided to share all with his "people." The odds of that happening were very slim indeed.
Only four Jedi survived the explosion, Yoda, Mace Windu, a small child named Una Halo who was with Yoda at the time, and Garen Muln. Everyone else either was on a mission or died. By the time the remaining Jedi were able to regroup there were only forty-six. Twelve decided to walk; seven were killed in various battles within the next year. Twenty-seven warriors, even if they were Jedi, would be no match for the thousands of droids and soldiers that the emperor had. Therefore, they had to wait, and do for the people what they could.
Siri shivered as the rain came down harder. She and her apprentice Ferus had been on a mission to Malaster when the Jedi massacre had come about.
She entered the small abandoned café that had once belonged to Didi and Astri. She dropped her cloak to the floor and bent down by the makeshift fire.
"We were getting worried," said Adi, who had also been on a mission when the Jedi had been killed.
"I had to avoid the Corts," explained Siri. The Corts were the emperor's police, corts being a word from the old language of Telos, meaning death. "They were doing card checks."
Ever since the emperor took over everyone had to carry a card that stated their name, age, occupation, species, and a serial number. The serial number, if typed into the guard's handheld computers, brought up everything but the person's favorite color. All the person's medical records, their previous jobs, a picture of their prints, everything. Obviously, the former Jedi didn't carry cards. It'd be like putting up a flashing neon sign that said "Jedi here."
"Thank the force they didn't catch you," breathed Adi as she handed Siri a drink. "Where's Ferus?"
"He's escorting Nikka back to the castle, he knows how to hide better then she does, we wouldn't want her getting caught," answered Siri.
"No, that could ruin everything," agreed Adi.
Nikka was a servant in Emperor Conleth's castle. At least, she was a servant if you used the term "servant" loosely. Slave is the word that Siri would have picked. Nikka was also the Jedi's greatest ally.
"Did you get the castle blueprints?" Mace asked, straight to business as usual.
"Yes," said Siri, pulling the papers from the protective area of her cloak. "I don't see what good they will do though, we don't even know if this stone even exists, let alone if it's in the emperor's castle."
"To be completely honest Siri, I don't see their use either," admitted Mace. "Garen asked me for them, he wouldn't give me all the details why. I intend to send them to him on Dagobah."
"When is he getting back?" Adi asked.
"I'm not sure, but what I do know is that we're in for an interesting conversation when he does."
~*~
Zackery tried to get down from the palace window without a sound, he really did, But unfortunately fate was against him.
The palace was his prison, his cage that held him in and trapped him. It kept him from being himself, and he could only do what Emperor Conleth allowed him to do. So, he threw a rope from his bedroom window and started climbing out.
As he slid down the rope, by some mad coincidence, the maid a level above him decided that she was going to throw her garbage out her window. Why she did this he'll probably never know, but what he did know was that a split second later a bag of filth came crashing down on his head, knocking him cleanly off the rope. Now that my friends is bad luck.
What's worse? He somehow managed to hit every garden window ledge, every speeder, and anything else that might have been in the air underneath him. He also did quite a bit of yelling, as would anyone. Add all this together, throw in a couple hundred guards trained specially to listen for such things, and you have Zackery's scenario.
He hit the ground with a loud thump, his entire body aching. He groaned a little before shoving himself to his feet and limping to a nearby alley as quickly as he could. Which, considering the fact that he had just fallen who knows how many feet, was not very fast. He bit his tongue and prayed to whoever might be listening to keep the guards from finding him.
"Stupid slaves, always trying to run away," he heard a nearby voice say. Husky, obviously male. "Why can't they just be happy that they have food and shelter? Why do they need their freedom? It's overrated."
"What I want to know is how they're deactivating their collars," came another voice, this one female.
The collars that they spoke off were tracking devices placed on slaves that, when they got a certain distance from the palace without permission, would kill them. In explanatory terms, it could blow their heads from Coruscant to Telos. Very few of the collars still worked though. One slave discovered the secret to disarming the collar, and that was to run it under a nuclear hot light. At first this was out of the question, the radiation in a nuclear hot light would kill them just as easily as the collar itself. Then a new invention was made. A kilarian technician invented a tool used mainly for thieves who wanted to break into an aristocrat's home. The slaves found use for them, at least one part of them. The power cell of the thief's tool was the same thing that powered a nuclear hot light. Therefore, nearly everyone's collars were disengaged.
It was common knowledge that the slaves could walk out at any moment, even the emperor himself knew. Why he didn't do anything about it, no one knew. Maybe he knew that the slaves wouldn't leave because they feared him too much. Zackery had stopped guessing years before. He knew that he would never be able to desecrate the layers of Emperor Conleth's mind.
A third voice floated to his ears.
"What are you looking for?" Female, middle-aged. Scared, tired, sad, her husband had died the month before and she was left trying to raise three children with no help from anyone..... her emotions washed over Zackery all at once, enveloping him so deeply that he could barely breath.
//Stupid power//, he silently though. //It's never there when I need it, but always there when I don't want it.//
Zackery was so lost in his own thoughts and his attempts to erase the woman's grief from himself that he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, and that can be dangerous when you're a palace runaway.
The next thing he knew, two rough arms had wrapped themselves around him, and all thoughts of the women were gone. He struggled against the guard, but he was so small compared to him.......
"Be careful," the woman snapped at her partner. "Don't hurt him, do you know who this is?"
"Let me go," Zackery managed to yell.
"Oh, I don't think so," said the male guard. "Emperor Conleth is going to be very pleased with us for bringing you back."
"And what right do you have to take him?" Zackery stopped struggling as a calm, terse voice floated to his ears.
"Empire business," said the woman, who Zackery, after getting a good look at her, remember her name was Zheara. "Move along gramps."
The man stepped out from behind the shadows. He was dressed simply, and had long brown hair dusted with light gray.
He smiled warmly at them before lifting a hand about mid high. "This boy is not who you are looking for, he said in a silky voice. "Perhaps you should go back to the Emperor and tell him that the slave got away."
"He's not who we're looking for," the female guard said to her comrade in an unintelligent voice. "We should go back to the palace."
The man dropped Zackery and followed the female out of the alley.
He stared at their retreating backs in shock before looking up at the man. "How did you do that?"
"A trick I learned several years back. You're a slave in the palace, correct?" The men walked over and stood in front of Zackery. His blue eyes cut through him, making Zackery think that he could read his every thought.
"Yes," Zackery said softly. "That's why the guards were after me, I was running away from the palace."
The man studied Zackery for several moments, silently dissecting him. Zackery shifted uncomfortably.
"I know of a safe haven where you can hide," the man said calmly. "My name is Qui-Gon."
A/N: Please Review!