Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or related concepts. I also do not own Corulag Academy. The only things I own are things/people/aliens you don't recognize, unless otherwise stated in a disclaimer.
A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers! This is my first Star Wars fic, so please do not be too harsh in your reviews, however, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Flames will be used to heat up people on Hoth, who need them more than I do.
Chapter one
Three Years Later
My name is Blaise Arrando. Or, at least that is the name I have come to believe I have. Everything further than three years ago is lost to me. The only clues to my past are a set of Jedi robes and a lightsaber that the woman who found me, my adoptive mother, found next to me.
My mother… she was kind. A former senator from Alderaan, who could not, would not, leave Coruscant, even after the corruption of the Republic by the Emperor Palpatine. I had once asked her if we could leave and go to Alderaan. But she flatly refused.
"Why do you want to leave here? Sure, it's battle-scarred, but it still is better than traveling 10 parsecs to Alderaan," she'd say, and leave it at that. But it didn't change my mind. When I turn 18 next year, I'll move out of this place and get my butt going somewhere else. I'm already working on a ship.
Though I am only 17, I look older than my age and can easily walk into any pub or bar on the underside of Coruscant without drawing attention or suspicion to myself. My mother would probably kill me if she found out what I spend my time doing, but I don't intend to get caught. I'm a good liar, and quite possibly the only way I could get caught is if I got into a nasty bar fight like some of my friends have.
There's actually a pretty good reason I'm down there. It's easy to find parts suppliers down there that will usually barter for them; perhaps even just give me the parts. Like I said, I'm working on a ship. I obtained a junked-up Naboo fighter about a year back; an explosion victim with horrible hull damage, but not much else wrong with it except engine and repulsorlift troubles. My mom doesn't really care about the parts I bring home, considering the fact that she can't tell a speeder from a starship. It also helped for my credibility that I had to use a set of repulsorlifts to replace my speeder's malfunctioning set.
I slid into my usual seat at the bar, next to one of my main suppliers. "What do you have this time, Jhen?" I muttered to the Twi'lek next to me.
"Arrando, long time no see," Jhen replied in Huttese.
"Not for lack of trying. How're things on Tatooine?"
"Same as usual." He slid a picture across the bar toward me. "About the parts… I recently came into possession of a large amount of sheet metal. Good condition stuff, too. Maybe we could arrange something?"
I took a glance at the photo. He was right; it was in real good condition. "Might need some to fix up the hull," I muttered to myself. "What do you want for it?"
"How much do you need?"
"Enough to cover a small fighter."
"Really, Arrando, just how junked up is this fighter of yours?" Jhen rolled his eyes and I could tell he was joking, at least partially. I'm good at reading people. "Maybe I can just hand you over some. Either way, I still owe you for that last fight you got me out of."
"You have to admit that that was cool, though."
"Shoot, kid, you whipping out that blaster and getting that bounty hunter seconds before he would have shot me is not cool."
"But you do owe me."
The Twi'lek sighed. "Usual drop-off?"
"Yep. I'll be there, same time, same place tomorrow. If I need more, I'll catch you at some point but…" I took a glance at my watch. "I gotta go. Thanks, Jhen."
"See you around, Arrando."
I casually walked out of the bar and walked into my speeder, launching myself into the air and into traffic, which was light considering the time of night it was, late enough to miss rush hour but too early to hit late night traffic. I sped home as fast as I could, enjoying the wind whipping through my somewhat long black hair.
I pushed the accelerator to keep up with the other drivers, ending up side by side with a familiar speeder.
"Hey, Blaise!" The pilot of the other speeder called. I took a quick glance at the pilot.
"What do you want now, T'kayna?" I yelled across to the girl.
"You're mom's looking for you."
I cursed under my breath. "What did I do now?"
"Dunno. She just mentioned it in passing." T'kayna winked at me. "Lookin' good, Arrando."
I gunned it, giving her a two-fingered salute. "Hope I don't get too pasted."
"Good luck," she called after me.
My speeder veered right, exiting the main flow of traffic, and aiming for the parking area of our apartment building.
"I can tell this won't be pleasant…" I muttered, walking through the doorway to face my mother.
0-0-0-0-0-
"What do you want?" I asked, crashing on the couch. "Am I in trouble?" I put on my best innocent look; unfortunately it wasn't necessary.
"Not that I know of." My mother cocked an eyebrow, her blue eyes shone with an inquiring look that could only mean she was suspicious of something. "Why, are you doing something that should put you in trouble?"
"Perhaps. What's the issue? T'kayna said you were looking for me."
"Are you?"
"Well, if I'm not in trouble, what's up?"
"Can't a mother worry about her son?"
I rolled my eyes. "Mom, I'm well within curfew. There's a reason you wanted me."
Mom laughed and shook her head. "I could never get anything past you."
"What's funny is that I can."
"What is that supposed to mean?" She lifted an eyebrow.
"Nothing…" I said innocently. My mother threw a pillow off the couch at me. "Ow… Jeez, you treat me more like a little brother than a son…"
"Perhaps I do." And it was true. Most people did think that we were either siblings or married; no one ever thought at first that we were mother-son. Of course, considering my appearance, people thought I was over 21. One person even went as far to say I was 27, my mother's age.
"But, seriously. What's wrong?"
She smiled. "I got the response to your application to Corulag Academy."
"And?" I asked, standing up anxiously.
"You're in!"
"Yes!" I said. "I'm getting the hell out of here!"
"What, you don't like me anymore?"
"No, I'm just sick and tired of this planet. I'll finally get to get off it, and seeing as you have issues with space travel, I'm not going anywhere with you."
My mother narrowed her eyes, a dangerous expression. "I find that insulting."
"I find it boring."
"Eh, do what you want…" She turned toward her room. "I'm proud of you."
"'Night, Mom. I love you."
"Love you too."
0-0-0-0-0-0-
I stood on the balcony facing the abandoned Jedi Temple. A cool breeze passed through the air, somewhat ominous, but feeling good nonetheless. I looked at the object in my hands, a lightsaber.
"Who am I?" I whispered to myself. Everyone I knew, everyone I could see had a family, a past. A future. What was I to the galaxy?
"Blaise?"
I turned toward the door to face my mother, wrapped in a robe over her nightgown.
"Why are you still up?" She asked, leaning on the fencing next to me.
"Can't get to sleep."
"What's wrong?"
I thought a moment. Should I tell her the worries that were inside my heart, my soul?
"You're hesitating again." She put her hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong, Blaise?"
"I'm just… so confused. Lately I've been wondering… Who am I? Why did I end up here, and why can't I remember anything?" I turned and pounded my fist on the wall.
There was silence for a moment.
"This is where I found you," she whispered, staring at the stars. "You were laying on the fencing, like a rag doll. That lightsaber was laying on the floor, as if it was flung out of your hands."
I turned back to face her.
"You didn't remember anything. I asked who you were, where you were from, who your parents were. But you didn't know.
"I was hurt by this. Shocked that you were hurt that badly to slip into amnesia. And I have wondered too, over the years. Wondered who my little boy really was."
"I am not a little boy," I said.
"No. Of course not. But you will always be my little boy," She said, hugging me. "Who are you? You are Blaise Arrando, 17, of Coruscant. And that is all that matters."
And I suppose, in that instant, she was right. For now, I am Blaise Arrando.
But I still want to know.
