Star Wars 2.0

Episode 5: Rise of the Clones

Chapter 2

Owen leaned back in his chair, his fingers pressed tightly to his forehead, his eyes staring blankly out at the glowing swirls of hyperspace, his mind numb. He had just been to see his parents on his way to another job. They greeted him kindly enough and let him stay with them a few days. But their judgment was palpable. He wasn't his brother the Jedi warrior. He wasn't even a person with a steady job. He was taking yet another shipping gig in a dead end career with no prospects of advancement. Occasional statements they made reminded him of this fact, usually in the form of responses to things he said as he was trying to prove himself to them. Nothing worked. It never had. Anakin could do no wrong, and he was the perpetual black sheep.

A faint thud drew Owen out of his daze. The hair on his arms had raised and a few loose items around the cockpit were floating as if the artificial gravity had malfunctioned. He knew that wasn't it. It was a byproduct of being cursed with the force, and having a rage within him that he knew Anakin shared; the reason he should not be a Jedi.

He had not told his parents about this. For one thing they could never accept a fault within their perfect child. And for another, they had inherited it from their father, and neither of their parents would admit that.

Owen drew in deep breaths and relaxed. He placed his mind on something other than his parents. The floating objects lowered in pace with the calming nerves until they landed on the dashboard.

As if purposely undermining him, the proximity alarm sounded, and the ship came out of hyperspace. He had arrived at his destination, the planet Plaxin; or more specifically, its moon Urobo. It was controlled by the Tempus Legion, a league of worlds whose allegiance was in the balance between the Republic and the Separatists.

Owen brought his ship in for a landing on the supply platform the control tower assigned to him. He had never landed on Urobo before, so he needed their assistance in figuring out where to go. This world was nearly on the other side of the galaxy from where he usually traveled; a choice he had made on purpose.

He exited the ship to find a host of servants hurrying to his hull to attend to his delivery. Only one wore a uniform; an uptight-looking manager who gave instructions to the others. Owen approached the man and asked him where he should check in. He pointed his gloved hand at an office complex, and Owen headed toward it.

Inside, Owen found one of the most lavish shipping offices he'd ever seen. A captain's lounge with a full bar and comfortable seating rested to one side, and a well-adorned office sat off of a stylish corridor to the right. Owen approached the office and checked in.

The secretary was decidedly more polite than the officer who had pointed him into the building. She paid him, then asked if he'd be shipping off-world as well, and since every run was income, he said he would. There were larger companies that transported most goods, but independent contractors like Owen took up the slack of extra supplies, especially when the senders wanted them to go places without a lot of oversight or inspections. If the pilot was caught with something they shouldn't have, the sender and receiver had plausible deniability regarding it.

Owen saw several of the pilots who shared in this risky business hanging out in the lounge; most waiting for their ships to get unloaded or filled, as Owen was. One of them, Zal, a Duros with light blue skin and deep red eyes, steered him away from the drink he was going to choose and suggested one that was better on-planet. "That other one relies on off-world ingredients that go bad in transit," he said.

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind," Owen responded. "What are you flying?"

"I call her the Crimson Rat," Zal responded, strolling toward the window that looked out onto the landing area. He nodded at a hunk of metal mixed with copper trim whose front jutted forward like a giant nose and whose four turret thrusters stuck out the sides like dangly legs. "She ain't pretty, but she's wiley, just how I need her."

"I've never given mine a name," Owen said. "I suppose I should. I just never wanted to get attached in case I had to sell it, or dump it, or it got destroyed or something."

"Giving it a name doesn't attach you to it," Zal said.

Owen shrugged. "Makes it seem like a pet to me. I don't know. What would you call it?"

"Which one is it?"

"That one right there,"

"The one the slaves are pulling stuff out of now?"

"Uh… Slaves?"

"You got to look at what's unique about your ship. What sets it apart?"

"Actual slaves?"

"Like the pigmentation. Looks like it was over-reflective and gives off a sort of silver sheen…"

"So they're not paid. At all."

"Hmm?"

"The workers."

"What about them?"

"You said they're slaves?"

"Yeah. On all the Tempus Legion planets. It's the way they do things."

"Doesn't the Republic ban that?"

"They used to frown heavy on it. Dealt with them, but at a distance, and wouldn't let them be represented in the Senate. But now they want their help in the war. Or at least they don't want them to join the other side. So they've been all friendly with them and looked away from what they're doing."

Owen stared at them in wonder and sadness. Zal saw the look on his face and said, "You'd be best advised to look away, too. It's what's done, and you'll have more than just a price on your head if you try to get even one out. You'll be hunted by everyone, including the Republic."

Owen acknowledged what his new friend was saying, and he took a big swig of his drink.

The door to Palpatine's office chamber slid open and Yoda strolled in. "Master Yoda, it's always such a pleasure to see you."

"Senator Palpatine, a pleasure for me it is as well, but I am afraid I have some bad news."

"Oh dear."

"The Jedi Council has discussed your clone army initiative. Decided, they have, that the risk is too great for the Republic. For a thousand generations have we kept the peace, so must we do so again today."

"They are so many in number though, Master Yoda. Even the great Jedi Council will be overwhelmed."

"Double our efforts, we must. A steep hill it will be, but we will overcome it. As we always have."

Senator Palpatine lowered his head and shook it in disappointment.

"I'm sorry, Senator," Yoda continued. "But we must insist you shut down your facilities. No more clones may you build."

Palpatine rose his head again, and this time his face wore an expression of determination. "I'm sorry Yoda, but that is not going to happen."

Yoda scowled and said, "Our decision will go to the Senate floor. There, they will take our advice."

"I'm afraid they've already decided," Senator Palpatine said, and he pressed a button which opened a door to an adjoining meeting room. Inside was a small crowd of senators discussing matters around a rectangular table.

At the end of it was Queen Lenoye Noc. Upon hearing the door open, she turned to see who it was. Spotting Yoda, she flapped her wings and hovered toward him. "Master Jedi Yoda, greetings. We are discussing the good senator's kind offer of a clone army to protect us."

"Allow this, the Jedi cannot," Yoda said with more than a little frustration in his voice. "Danger there is, in an army that can be built without end, controlled by a select few."

"I have great admiration for the Jedi," Queen Noc said. "All of us do. But there is a limit to the amount everyone can do. I nearly lost my life a couple nights ago…"

"And you were saved by a Jedi Knight."

"Yes, I was… Barely. Everyone here had a similarly close call, or have lost a loved one in this war."

"Afraid you are. But trust in us you must."

"The forces of the Republic and the Jedi Knights are just not numerous enough to protect everyone. A galaxy needs soldiers everywhere."

"Fear leads to the dark side, Queen Noc. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering."

"I'm sorry, Master Yoda. We will be standing together to vote in favor of the Clone Army Initiative."

Behind the queen, senators rose in solidarity with her. All looked on Yoda with respect, but determination.

Yoda's face clenched, and he turned away before his enmity got the better of him. He spoke no words, but the firm tapping of his cane against the floor as he headed out spoke volumes of his feelings.

To be continued…