OKAY, CHAPTER TWO IS THE FIRST CHAPTER TO BE ACTUALLY REWRITTEN. I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE BETTER THAN WHAT WAS THE OTHER VERSION.

OK GUYS THIS IS MY PERSONAL FANFIC. IT'S FOR MY AMUSEMENT AND SHIT THAT I LIKE IF YOU LIKE IT, THEN AWESOME. IT'S LITERALLY JUST AN OUTLET FOR MY POOR WRITING SKILLS. SO IF YOU TAKE SHIT FROM THIS STORY SERIOUSLY, THEN WELL, GREAT JOB KAREN, THANK YOU, AND I HOPE YOU ALL HAVE A LOVELY DAY!

DISCLAIMER i don't own anything but MY OC"S


The heat had been bearing down on Christen for six days when his mind momentarily floated back into existence. He could only tell that because the sixth sun rotation had just risen a few hours ago.

Six Kriffing days Christen had been walking through the Tatooine badlands, Groaning every time his body forced him to take a breath. His mind currently missing the little memory of his mom slapping his head when he could do that for attention. But as Christen passed what seemed like the thousandth stone formation, he could finally accept that he was alone and likely to die alone. However, his mind was also on the topic that he was still surprised at, and that was that his slave chip never went off.

"Maybe it's a dud?" He thought aloud as he kicked a pile of sand up in a pathetic act of fighting boredom, the sun blaring down on the millions of dust now floating in the air.

Still, nothing had changed since he ran in the direction of the strange Force he used to kill those men.

He still had no new feelings. He was still lost.,He still had crying spasms instead of being able to sleep, highly dehydrated and hungry. The only upside was that being a freshly former slave made this more manageable than the other would be for most people. He was used to going without food for a week. He had lasted almost 2 weeks without food when he refused to kill a dancer slave for his master when she refused to allow her newborn to be a Sex toy.

The biggest problem for him at the moment was dehydration.

As he stepped over another dune of sand, he slipped and tumbled down a few moments before coming to a stop. His sweat-covered body and hair were now covered in layers of sand that seemed to penetrate even his most protected parts. He growled loudly as he picked himself up slightly but then slumped down again in exhaustion.

He had begun to think maybe he made a mistake running away, and he could have just went to the spaceport and stolen a ship from a smuggler. Or another idea was that he could have jumped straight into the Hutt's arms and pissed them off. Then, finally, he could have killed his master and gained a respectful and quick death.

But now... He will die slowly over the next four days. If he went over that time, he would break his current record with no water.

He was having a problem that he couldn't seem to access the feeling he had used during his fight with the Kaleesh and when killing. He could feel it, but every time he tried to reach for it mentally, it would run away from his grasp and moved farther down the desert. So all he could do now was follow it.

It was as if the mystical Force was beckoning him to follow and find whatever it needs. And being that he had nowhere else to go besides die in the sand was the only reason he kept following the Force that beckoned him.

He laid there. He was struck with an old memory back when he was around his brother's age. It was one of the local food stage houses owned by a group of people that would come and go. But the memory that halted all other thinking was an odd conversation he had with an elderly male Muun who was working that day. The man had been on the planet for a month, and he only knew this because the shop was on the way to his house from the fighting pits. It had been around two weeks into the man's stay when he had approached christen whenever he was walking by. The first time he spoke to him was when he was limping home from a fight will a local gamorrean trio from the security of his master. It took seven minutes for him to kill the feral pigs finally, but he had done it again. A human fighter destroying the alien species that were revered for their brute strength.

The man whistled a few times to get his attention. He was only a child, but being a born fighter, he was more confident in his defensive ability. Finally, when he was a few meters away, the man began to speak in an old raspy voice that sounded worn from years of yelling orders. But every day, it was the same message.

"My Goodness, young one, let me get you a med pack" the man slapped a few on his injuries before speaking again.

"You know, young lad, I sense great destiny in on your path on life," he said as he looked into christens Bright Orange tear-filled eyes with a sad look. One scared with depression and fear.

"This pathway will open up to a future to you, one that you will have no power over but will have the power to change it in your image, my child, you are so gifted, yet the galaxy will scream in defiance and seek to take everything you hold dear." the man's hands now grabbed christens head. He was thrown back from memory and into the present. He was again kneeling on the ground crosslegged, and it happened every time he would go from present memory to the past.

When it happened the first time, christen thought the man was a psycho and dying the following weeks before leaving. He thought the man would kidnap him, but now won't everything that had happened was making him look back on the man's words.

Christen picked himself up, reached within himself, felt the familiar pulse of the strange Force, and continued walking in its direction, only reaching out every few minutes to see where the feeling would direct him next...

Forward to the east, he felt after walking straight for a few minutes. And so he went on the Munns words repeating in his head, maybe the man was right, that he had a destiny that would strip him of everything he loved. It had to be of some importance, or would his mind make such a fuss about it.

His thoughts on the matter were fastly ripped away as a sudden charge of electricity and energy ripped through his body, his teeth clamped shut hard enough to feel like they could break, the amount of change going through his body was ripping his nerves apart, and his eyes couldn't close as the pain was excruciating.

The shocks and bolts of energy seemed like they burned his flesh from the inside. Somehow, he was still spasming on the ground for the next few seconds, trying to calm down and find where the pain was coming from. He bit his cheek and closed his eyes against the current of energy still ripping him apart. It took a few more seconds, but his eyes shot open when he found the pain seemed to originate on the back of his neck. He then tried to reach for it, but the energy that shot down his body was burning his nerves and his spine to the point where his vision began to become blocky and ever so slightly darkening.

He pleaded silently for something to save him. Then, his vision, after another minute, became completely black, his body still spasming as his arm was flaying around trying to rip his neck apart.

Suddenly a light flickered in the darkness of his vision, and he could only blame his reflex as his right hand shot out for the light Physically. When he grabbed the light, his hand was seemingly swallowed up by the light. His mind seemed to take control, and the rushing waves of the Force came over him again. When he physically reached for the light, he was shocked when his arm went straight for the back of his neck.

He couldn't feel any pain at the moment, whether from shock or that his nerves were no longer functioning. So he didn't know, but what he did know was the wetness, and the sounds of ripping flesh soon filled his ears. Soon he felt a piece take out from his neck and a chunk of meat left in his right hand and touched the thick streams of liquid that slid down his back as he sat in the middle of the desert in silence.

It only took a few minutes for the pain to suddenly return. The Force left his body, his hand still digging through his neck as the transmitter's shocks were becoming less common. The residing was almost unbearable, and tears streaked his face as though he was alone. He would not give whatever force out there the satisfaction of having his break down.

The pain soon returned in full Force as blots of energy dug at the outlines of his vision. Then, the wave hit him full Force again as he was now lying on the ground, groaning as his fingers tried to sense the chip embedded into his flesh.

His hope was giving out, but soon his whole world stopped upon the cold sensation of metal at the tips of his right middle finger. He quickly grabbed ahold of the edges of the chip with his blood-soaked fingers, and with a throat-ripping primordial scream, Christen threw his arm upwards and ripped the chip out. The shocks immediately dissipated into nothing as he was now just left with the open bleeding wound on his neck.

With wildly shaking hands, Christen soon brought his hands into his face and brought up the tiny chip that had controlled his whole life.

He let out a few tears, filled with hope and relief, as he threw the chip onto the surface of a nearby rock that reached above his ankle. It was as long as his legs. He violently smashed his fist onto the metal.

The crunching of his slave transmitter chip was the single most beautiful moment in his life, not even the fact that with the stinging of his hand, he knew he just fractured his right hand. However, it was still a dumbfounded christen on the outside that was stuck knowing that today, he had just destroyed the very thing that made a majority of the planet a slave.

But as he looked upon the destroyed chip, he quickly furrowed his eyebrows as he thought of what had skits happened... he just survived the very thing that was DESIGNED to kill slaves who ran away.

Yet he was still here, still breathing, and he was free...

Christen chuckled out loud at the thought. He was ALIVE, yes, but now not only was he starving, but also lost, and could now add the fact he was now bleeding out a knuckle-sized hole in the back of his neck. In addition, the back of his head and the lower inches of his hair were utterly soaked in quickly drying blood as it had begun to harden from the sun.

"Kinda wish I just died. I guess I can't catch one break, huh." He said all to himself as he looked to the twin suns of his planet.

Christen's mind could only wonder what this mystical Force did to him that could make him survive his chip activating. It was his only lead as to why he was still up and breathing, either that or the chip was always defective, but that thought caused other less kind possibilities to start lingering into his mind, so he'd rather believe the former.

He pondered his survival for a few minutes, simply taking advantage of breathing on his own and merely being there. The touch of the sand beneath him seemed to feel more like the warm sheets from his mother's bed covers.

Then, finally, he laid his head down and looked for the stars in the bright blue sky... The leads that he should be staring at with his brother, to look at them so long they would have to be called in my mother... but now that was no longer a possibility.

He let out a deep breath, thinking of her hurt. It stung like a blaster bolt. The only positive he could see is that he had at least bought them the home, and he would still be remembered... hopefully.

He felt like sleeping. His head was already weighing heavy on him. He was tired and broken, but yet, every time he closed his eyes, sharp, bright flashes of milky platinum metal, a ship, and glowing Triangular and cubic-shaped objects hung in the air.

Was it a sign? Was this his way off the planet? Could this mystical Force actually be helping him a way off this dust ball? He sat up, knowing the feeling would never go away until he found such a ship. Of course, he could lie there and die in his sleep, but the slow prodding of the Force seemed to be more annoying at the moment than anything else he had going on.

Thinking of the possibility of finding a strange ship gave him the momentary strength to lift himself with new energy. He looked towards the blue sky again, keeping his eyes on the millions of currently invisible bright white lights hanging in the sky. He hoped his brother would keep the passion of looking to the stars for some closure, for the stars saw everything.

Walking to the next dune in front of him, he started climbing his way up as he continued to reach for the power to see which way to go, it beckoned again, and he was all too eager to follow.

Christen knew that he was dozens of miles from any settlement or Moisture farm by now, so even if he wanted to turn back, he would likely be killed by dehydration or the sand people. Tears from exhaustion and stress began threatening his eyes once again as he looked back towards the direction of his hometown.

What did his mother tell his brother now that he was gone? Would she hate him or blame herself for his actions for the rest of her life?

He couldn't stop the tears. He was only fifteen, for kriff sake! Yet, he was forced to become much older than he was to survive, preserve his mother's happiness and kindness, and protect his brother's obliviousness to the harsh world. But now he wasn't there! He would never be there again.

He stopped his thinking before he got into another fit of bawling like a baby.

Continuing down the direction that the Force showed him, Hands still crusted in dried blood, the only way he ever realized was the touch of roughness when trying to wipe away the tears, he was beyond wasting his energy to look at his own body, but he could feel the flakes sticking to his cheeks and below his eyes.

The feeling wasn't enjoyable, but nothing about the last week or somewhat his entire life was even resembling pleasant. Nevertheless, he kept his head up, trying not to show weakness and the pain that filled him when coming over to another dune to look at the terrain in front of him.

Everywhere he could see, it was the same, just sand, jagged rocks, no water, or seeable shelter to sleep.

Fifteen minutes of being completely free of the slave chip, and he already hated it, his boots had once again been filled with sand up to his ankles. It began digging into his skin, causing him to bleed slightly. He didn't have much to give, so bleeding or any more than necessary right now might as well cause him death immediately. He ripped his boots off, glaring at the mountain of sand that slowly poured out. Still, being alone made him talk aloud more than he used to.

"Ya know this sand better turn into the water soon, cause this shit is rough, coarse, and irritable as hell," he grumbled loudly.

Kicking up a mound of sand as he got back up and stretched, he looked to the dead-end cliff that laid before him. It sat a few hundred yards from him. The dune he stood upon was the last. The rest was solid ground. The length to the edge was odd, to say the least. An unnaturally looking triangular shape looked over a valley hundreds of feet beneath it. Christens eyes caught on that close to halfway to the cliff edge, a mound of ground twenty feet across and even more in length stood a foot above the rest.

It was as if something was beneath the surface.

And no, none at all to his surprise, he saw the glint of metal sticking out of the ground.

He ran to the foreign object. The never-ending pain of hunger, no sleep, and the slight shimmer of metal soon became a blaring light as it glowed the closer he got. Finally, he waned on his own energy and reached out to the Force to carry him the rest of the way.

All thoughts of sleeping and dying while dreaming of stars was now in the back of his mind. It was instead replaced with the never-ending curiosity of a teenager about to die, his body and mind enforced by the power booked it down to the ground and sprinted towards the glinting metal, and within thirty seconds he had closed he got to his knees too and crawled forward as he got within ten feet of the metal object, he deemed it a part of a ship's antenna, and it was a milky platinum color that he saw in his vision or dream,

After doing some pulling, it obvious to him then that it was attached to something underneath. The thing that made him stop in curiosity and frustration was that he couldn't identify the make or model. There weren't many custom ways to make antennas. He's seen over a couple of hundred different types of components of antennas. Still, the metal and make of this model were so new to him. he could see it was ancient. Rust threatened to overtake the incredible Milkey texture of capital steel mixed in with whatever material he couldn't identify. However, the craftsmanship was impressive and unlike anything he's seen as well, predating anything he's ever worked on while being a slave on this dust ball.

He tugged a bit harder on the antenna, Hoping he didn't break it. He wants to see which way it would move to deduce where the ship's cockpit would be.

He could only guess it was the whole ship under the crusted soil that covers it. His first thought was that he could try to dig it out with his hands. But that thought went away quickly as soon as he touched the sound surrounding the metal. He thought it might as well be a death wish or to chew off his own arms instead of hand digging hundreds of cubic feet of the rocky soil. He would have his fingers cut off by digging before even getting a few feet deep with how hard the ground was.

Christen sat down with his hope fleeting every second as he thought of countless ways he could dig out the ship. His thoughts were torn away from him as the twin sunset of Tatooine finally came to shine down behind the other side of the planet. The striking evening sky threatened him once again with the cold of the night. He could already feel the downward turn in temperature.

The frustration and restlessness in him grew as he tried to concentrate on what he could do. The Force, or mysterious whatever it was, would try to pull him to the ship.

He had no ideas yet, so after hours of denying its help, christen finally opened himself up to the Force when it nudged him after thinking of setting his clothes on fire and trying to contact some Tusken raiders., he felt cold inside, soon he felt a light pulse of energy emerge from his chest. In an instant, he felt warmth radiate throughout his body.

The Force seemed to swell around him as he accepted its merging or whatever he thought was happening to him. The warmth got stranger and hotter until he felt like he was on fire, an unstoppable fire blazing bastard.

The crystal he had left with Anakin and his mother was nothing compared to what he felt at the moment. He could feel vibrations going through his mind and almost every single muscle in his arms. But, unfortunately, his brain seemed too jumbled letters and strung them together. So when it finally became an audible sound, it ended up sounding like one of the dozens of alien languages that frequented Tatooine, and it obviously wasn't huttese.

But it soon turned into what he could decipher was galactic basic. But that's not what made his mind and body sputter in disbelief. Instead, it was the fact that he felt that his thoughts and actions feel somewhat unknown to him, as though the Force now had a certain level of control over him.

"LIFT US CHILD" a collection of voices spoke within his mind, making him jump a few inches in the air.

The voice became so clear but to actually lift a ship out of the ground, what was he supposed to grab? The antenna will pop off, and he wasn't that fucking strong.

"WITH THE FORCE ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE" it whispered clear as day.

" USE THE POWER, THE HATRED OF THOSE WHO HAVE DECEIVED YOU," it beckoned as he could only gasp with now two voices in his head, but what else could he lose? So he was guided by their words and raised his hands, opening them in palming matter, fingers spread wide as he felt something brush up against his hands. was that the ship or just some wind he didn't know. And he'd rather not open them, and he'll play along with these voices cause they genuinely were the only things he had now.

"lift it, child, this is not your end, there is still a destiny ahead of you...use your passions, for they will give you strength," the woman voice called out in his mind.

"LIFT IT, YOUR SLAVE," the male's voice all but screamed at him, his voice bouncing around in his head painfully.

"WILL YOU DIE ON YOUR KNEES OR YOUR FEET!" a powerful masked voice screamed so loud it made his headache in unimaginable pain.

SLAVE? Christen thought with malice, and he was no longer a slave.

He Gave in into the words of the mysterious voices in his head and tapped into his passions, emotions, anger, and pain.

He didn't kill those men to be a slave the next day, and he didn't work to be a slave. No, he did all things for his family, up until being alive threatened their very lives. After that, he was bent and broken for the slave masters' entertainment. He slowly gripped whatever was brushing his hand eagerly, emotions raging through him. he gripped even harder, the tears fell as more memories of his mother almost being raped in front of him and the face and sound and of his brother screaming for it all to stop while locked in his room.

He didn't know how he saw his brother's face. He didn't remember him being there in the room when he had the accident. But yet here he saw that picture, and his pain soon gave way to unrelenting anger.

That anger soon turned to power.

The images of his mother's face faded from when he was born to when she looked at him with disgust, fear, and disappointment radiating from her face to have a monster for a son.

But yet the power felt incomplete, as if he was only using a fraction of the Force. At the moment, he was using all of his hate and anger. Still, Christen couldn't lift it, he felt a nudging and a tiny shift in the ground, the sounds of cracking soil was unmistakable. The Force seemed to nudge him again, but he batted it away in frustration. Sweat dripped from his hair, and the Force urged him again.

Still, it seemed to hit him with full Force as all the same images he used for his anger, but the Force seemed to seep out his deeper emotions like a sponge.

He became saddened to know him running away would destroy a part of his mother forever. The tears fell faster, and they felt heavier for some energy and bottles emotions he built up finally came to a close as he trusted his hands out, gripping the ship mentally once more.

He concentrated solely on the ship. There were no beads of sand beneath him, there was no scalding hot sun blaring down on him, there was so no sound of the ripping winds and rustling of overturning sand, there were only him and his emotions, and he used them.

Hate for himself, love for his family, sadness for his cowardice, anger for the life he lived as a slave, compassion for being a slave taught him to relish all life. He used all these emotions as he pulled his hands upward. Then, an image popped into his mind, a ship that held a smooth body with multiple decks struck out beneath the bridge, each one reaching farther than the last, the end of the warship forked into the middle and handed small wing decks on the flanks of the ship which held to a triangle type shape, all in all, it looked like an old republic dreadnought. Still, it was too small for that, was the hip in his mind the one that laid beneath him? he had to find out.

He pulled his hands upwards harder, it took all his strength, but it was a long battle even then. The power seemed at peace with his body. He could sense it going straight from home to surrounding the ship. Every crack and crevice of the ship was now under the Force's control. He tried to thrust his hand up again, thinking it would fail once again, but this time there was no backlash. He couldn't see, but yet he could see the landscape, the Force itself, the planet, and all the inhabitants could all be seen in his mind, but yet none of that mattered. All that mattered was getting the ship out of the ground.

He realized the ground was more than shaking now, and it felt violently thrown about. He put the rest of his strength and prayed to whatever the mystical Force was to help. It gladly did so. In milliseconds, he was thrown back as pressure erupted from beneath him. The life faded from him momentarily as he began to open his eyes and look up to see the windows of the ship's bridge around twenty meters away. He couldn't even comprehend his surprise as his world soon turned black as the week and days without hunger or water had finally caught up to him.

Okay so here's the second chapter. Let me know what you think about it (it will be the best if you leave a comment). If you like my story so far add it to your 'favorites' and make sure to follow me in order not to miss any update :D. Till next time guys!

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