DISCLAIMER: STAR WARS, THE CHARACTERS OF, AND ALL OTHER RELATED SUBJECTS AND MEDIA ARE THE PROPERTY OF LUCAS ARTS AND THE WALT DISNEY CORPORATION. THE ONLY THING I OWN IS THE SCENARIO. PLEASE DON'T SUE ME. THANK YOU.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I CANNOT APOLOGIZE FOR HOW BEHIND THIS WAS. IT WAS SCHEDULED TO RELEASE LAST TUESDAY, BUT THINGS GOT IN THE WAY. MOSTLY BECAUSE THE LINES AT A REPUBLICAN PRIMARY IN TEXAS ARE LONGER THAN THE LINES AT DISNEY WORLD. ALSO, CAN WE JUST TAKE A MOMENT TO TALK ABOUT THE FAFSA? IT'S HARD TO IMAGINE THAT THERE IS A GOVERNMENT AGENCY RUN WITH EVEN LESS CONVIENIENCE THAN THE DMV, BUT SOMEHOW THE FAFSA MANAGED TO DO IT. ANYWAY, ENOUGH OF THAT. HERE' S CHAPTER THREE, I HOPE YOU ENJOY.
Chapter 3: Rahm Kota is a Total Dick
Luke sat at a table in the Mess Hall. The room was like everything else in the academy. Steel, and lit with bright white light. He wore the same standard Imperial Trainee uniform as all the others here. A tight, grey, zip-up, body suit that bore the Imperial symbol on the right breast, with a thin, tight black belt, and a pair of equally tight black boots that nearly reached the knee.
Currently, Luke sat alone. All the others already had their friends, or at least people from the same planet with whom they could sit, talk, laugh and jest. But Luke had none of that. No one else had come with him. It seemed odd to him, the idea that a whole entire planet could only offer up a single recruit while others managed so many. That's not to say he was the only Tatooinian to join the Imperial Flight Academy. His friend Biggs had left when he was of age, 3 years ago. He probably wasn't there anymore. Biggs had always been a sticker against The Empire. The contempt that he had felt had greatly increased when The Empire's interest in their small farming town had done the same. If Luke knew Biggs, which he very well did, Biggs had abandoned ship as soon as he got passed basic training, and joined the Rebellion at the first chance he got. That's probably what had happened.
Another boy came and sat down across from him. He was tall, with dark brown hair, and a kind expression. He looked like he was from somewhere in the Mid Rim. You could tell where someone was form by the look of them. People from the Core Worlds were one of two things, perfect, seen mostly in youth and a look they likely achieved unnaturally, or horribly fat, most often in their middle age onward. It was to be expected from them. The Core Worlds were the richest in the galaxy. With such massive reserves of resources, including their location, at their disposal, they had become the economic and political center of the galaxy. People from the Outer Rim were characteristically small and scrawny. Despite their propensity for hard work, muscle and fat were hard to build in places where food was so rare to come by. The farther out the planet, the poorer reared its people. The Mid Rim had the best, by many concerns. Naturally achieved looks that came from the mixture of hard work and healthy diet. They weren't rich, and they weren't poor. They enjoyed the best of both worlds.
"Hey there, kid." The young man said, "You okay? You're looking kinda like someone stuck an electro-pike up your ass."
"E-excuse me?" Luke stuttered.
The young man rolled his eyes, "You look like you're upset." He explained.
"Oh, no, I'm fine. I guess." Luke said.
"You sure?" The boy asked, "Because I was just sitting over at that table, and when I looked over here, there's you moping around all by yourself."
"Really, I'm fine. I just haven't got anyone to talk to is all." Luke answered.
"Haven't you got anyone from back home to hang out with?" The boy asked.
"No. I was the only recruit from my planet on this shipment." Said Luke.
"Well, if you ain't got anyone, you could always talk to me." The young man said.
"Don't you have your own friends you should be talking with?" Luke asked, slightly embarrassed.
"Eh, kinda. There's a handful of other people who came with me from home, but I don't know any of 'em." The young man said, "I mean sure, we've talked, but I ain't really friends with any of them. Most of my friends decided to either stay at home or join the Stormtrooper Corps."
"Oh, well then, I suppose it would be nice to have someone to talk to." Luke said, a small smile making its way to his face.
"Well, great then!" The young man replied, shooting out his hand, "The name's Cade. Cade Aargon."
Luke took his hand and they shook, "I'm Luke. Luke Skywalker."
"Well it's a pleasure to meet ya', Luke. Now, first things first, I'd love to know the story behind that love mark you got on your eye." Cade said.
"Love mark?" Luke asked, confused.
"You know, a bruise, a knock, a big black spot." He explained, "Where'd you grow up, kid? On a farm?"
"Um, yes, actually." Luke replied.
Cade seemed taken by surprise.
"Oh." He said, "Well I suppose that explains allot."
"I suppose so." Luke said.
"Anyway, I got off topic. What's the story?" Cade asked again.
"Well, I mean, it's nothing much." Luke tried to explain.
"Ah, come on." Cade jostled, "It can't be that bad. Let' shear it, what happened?"
"Fine." Luke groaned, "There weren't any seat belts or grab bars on my transport here, and the passenger section looked like it was originally a cargo hold. So, when we hit light speed…"
"Ooooh." Cade hissed, "That must have sucked major tauntaun balls."
"What's a tauntaun?" Luke asked, tilting his head.
Cade just stared at him for a while.
"Exactly what planet was that farm on?" he asked.
"Tatooine." Luke answered.
"Damn." Cade said, "I could tell you were probably an Outer-Rimmer, but that is deep in there."
"Yeah, pretty sucky planet." Luke said.
"I can imagine." Cade replied, "Do you all even get the HoloNet out there?"
Luke simply shook his head.
"Damn, kid." Cade said, "I have got a hell of allot to teach you."
"Teach me?" Luke asked incredulously.
"Yep." Cade said, "After some thought, I've found that you seriously need a wing to rest under, so I decided that it's gonna be mine. After all, a small kid like you, on your own, in here? You wouldn't last a second."
"Hey!" Luke protested, "I could hold my own just fine by myself!"
"Really?" Cade asked, dipping his head, thinking, "How much you weigh?"
"About 100 pounds." Luke said, wondering the relevance of the question.
"Well, Luke, let me put something into perspective for you." Cade said, before turning around and gesturing to a larger man over at one of the other tables.
"Do you see that guy?" Cade asked.
"Yeah, what about him?" Luke asked.
"Well, I'd say he's at about 200." Cade said, "Now, do you really think you're going to be able to hold your own against that?"
Luke was quiet for a little while, and looked down at the table.
"Ah, I didn't mean to upset you, kid." Cade said.
"It's fine. You're right, I shouldn't be so self-confident." Said Luke.
The two sat quiet for a while.
"So, how about you, Cade?" Luke asked, "Where're you from?"
"Naboo." Said Cade, "My folks were Merchants, mostly selling space parts, that kind of thing."
Cade starred off, lost in thought, his expression saddening a bit.
"Or at least they were." He continued, "There was a Rebel attack in our area of the city when I was about 10 years old. They had set off several bombs, and our shop was in the area of the blast radius."
Luke got up and moved around to sit next to him.
"The funny part was that they weren't even supposed to be going into work that day. It was a holiday. But, Dad wanted to make sure everything was right and in order, so the two of them went into town to make sure. I waited for hours, but they never came back."
He looked down at Luke who was giving him the most sympathetic look he could muster.
"Ah, I'm sorry kid. I probably made this super awkward. Just met you and here I am spilling my whole life's story onto you out of nowhere." Cade said, chuckling ever so lightly towards the end.
"No. No, no, no. It's just fine." Luke said, "Besides I…kinda get how you feel."
"Really?" Cade said.
"Yeah. I never knew either of my parents. My father was a navigator on a spice freighter, he was killed before I was born though. The ship got shot down sometime during the near end of the Clone Wars. From what little I've been told, my mother died in child birth."
Cade nodded, "Yeah, I guess you do don't you." He said, chuckling a little.
Luke joined him in it. "Yeah, I guess so." he said.
"You know what, Luke?" Cade asked, "I'm starting to think that maybe, just maybe, we were supposed to meet today."
"What d'you mean?" Luke asked.
"You know fate, destiny, that kind of thing." Cade explained, resting a hand on the smaller's shoulder, "Just think about it, you and me, two orphans against the galaxy. Between the two of us, I think we could make it out pretty swell on the other side. So what do ya' say? Partners?"
Luke smiled. He really liked the idea.
"Yeah," said Luke, "Partners."
The moment didn't last however. The doors at the back of the mess hall opened, and a group of officers came walked into the room in a solid formation. The whole room hushed as they made their way to a raised platform. They stood there in a straight line, one of them stood in front of the rest. He was older than they, heavier as well. His uniform resembled the usual Imperial Officer's uniform, having all the same articles. His, however, was much nicer. It was black, but with grey embroidering on the cuffs of the sleeves, along the ends of the breasts, and the collar. He wore decorative tasseled pads on both shoulders, the same shade as the embroidery, and stood as a symbol of his rank. Upon his breast was a litany of medals. He himself was quite like many officers Luke had encountered, however. Quite like Colonel Krampar, actually. Older, though. The mustache was a little thinner, and grey rather than black, just as was his hair.
The man looked over the crowd of recruits, analyzing each individual, and yet only the group as a whole, with a calculating eye.
"I," the commander said, "am Admiral Forester."
He paused, and continued to look over the crowd.
"I am the commanding officer of this facility." He said, "Though we will not be seeing each other often, you are to always think of me as the highest seat of authority in your entire life from this point onward. I will expect nothing but the very best from each and every one of you. This is the Imperial Flight Academy. You are the best. You are here only because your flight test scores were the best of the best from your world. You are the best. Therefore, the best will be expected of you."
There was again silence. Admiral Forester turned to one of the officers behind him.
"This is Major Zander." He said, "He has here the list of squadrons. You will be grouped according to your simulation scores."
He turned to the lower officer, "You may begin now major."
Major Zander stepped forward, and pulled out a holopad.
"Attention, the following recruits will report immediately to this platform when their names are called!" he shouted.
As he began to list names, Admiral Forester walked back down the aisle through which he had entered, most of the other officers following close behind. He walked through the door, the grey steel door snapping shut behind him.
The lowest level of the Nar Shadda TIE Production Facility were eerily quiet. The shocks of artillery shells rumbled from above like thunder, and each explosion shook dust from the walls and ceiling. A faint noise echoed along the corridor, the fast rattle of sprinting boot and iron armor.
Starkiller and his unit ran down the halls, weapons ready, all senses alert. So far they had been met with no resistance, just empty iron and concrete corridors. It was always likely, however, that this would not remain the case.
Eventually they reached an open doorway. Starkiller threw up a hand, signaling his men to halt. He crept out onto a concrete balcony, and observed the sight before him. He over looked a large, empty cargo bay. Its walls were not made from iron or concrete, but rather the dark rock that comprised the planet's surface. The floor was made of a kind of granite. There was a giant open space, presumably where ships would have once entered, that opened into a deep ravine. Here the sounds of the battle were far clearer. There stood by the edge of that cliff, a man. He wore a hooded brown cloak, and was utterly silent. While he gave off the typical light side waves of a Jedi, they were accompanied with anger. Together they made an almost offensive radiance.
'Oh force,' Starkiller thought, 'this guy's going to be a total dick.'
He crept back into the hallway behind him, where his troops hid up against the wall.
"Here's the plan." Said Starkiller, "Mac, Avery, you two will sweep down stairs and to the right, secure the area, and defend it should any reinforcements arrive."
The Stormtroopers named Mac and Avery nodded and ran off to do their duty.
"Keyes, Fukes." Starkiller continued, "You'll do the same as Mac and Avery, but you'll take the left."
They nodded, and left.
"Finally, the two of you will stay here and guard this balcony. We can't afford for any rebel reinforcements to cease a high ground position. And Malik, if the Jedi should happen to get me on the ropes, take the shot."
The Stormtrooper named Malik, who stood next to the rather nervous Art, nodded, and took up a position to the right of the door. Art shrugged, and slowly tottered to the same on the left.
Starkiller walked back out onto the balcony, and drew out his lightsaber. He stopped at the edge, and stood quiet for a moment, gathering the darkness about him. Then, he jumped. He flipped a few times in the air before making his landing, one hand planting to the ground, the other in the air, grasping firmly his blade. He stood, and ignited his blade. The saber making the all too familiar snap and hiss as its angry red blade loosed from its crystal.
The Jedi turned, his expression changing from stern indignation to anger and disappointment as he laid eyes on his opponent.
"I go to all this work to draw out Vader," Kota fumed, "and I am met with a mere child!?"
"I think you shall find that I am no mere child, Jedi." Starkiller spoke.
It was true, he wasn't. Neither in maturity or in age. At 19 years old, Starkiller had legally been an adult for almost two years.
"We shall see." Kota said, as he shrugged off his brown robe, and ignited his lightsaber.
'Yep' Starkiller thought, "Total dick.'
The sound of clashing sabers could be heard from the balcony hallway. Art fidgeted nervously, while Malik simply leaned up against a wall.
"Calm down, Private." Malik said.
Art tried, but he couldn't. He could hear the fighting, and he really wanted watch. How amazing it must be, to see these warriors in battle with one another. But, Art reminded himself, he had a job to do.
The two stood silently as the battle continued. Then, the sound of blaster fire joined the fray. Malik's radio buzzed to life.
"Rebel reinforcements have arrived on our front." Mac's voice scratched through, "There's not too many," he paused a moment and shot off a few rounds, "But there could be more on the way, and they may be heading in your direction too."
Malik tilted his head towards the small device, "Affirmative." he said.
The voice of Fukes could be heard doing the same.
No sooner had the transmission ended than the sound of Rebel reinforcements trying to break down the barrier the unit had set up and the end of the corridor begun.
Malik raised his Blaster-Rifle. It wasn't like the others. It was bigger, with a large charge box coming off the side, rather than situated in the handle, or coming off the bottom. Art did the same with his small, standard issue rifle.
White smoke poured around to corner, and with it came the reinforcements. Art and Malik opened fire.
Red and Blue clashed, each pushing hard against the other.
"How long has he trained you?" Kota taunted, "Three or four years?"
Starkiller growled, and Kota laughed.
"You truly are an amateur." Said Kota, "Surely, you cannot hope that you will defeat me?"
Starkiller used the anger spurred on by his opponent's mockery to fuel his dark power. Lightning began to dance about his fingers.
"Oh, I think you'd be surprised." Starkiller replied, letting lose a blast of sith lightning.
Kota blocked it with his saber, deflecting it back towards Starkiller, who did the same. The lightning bounced back in forth between them, its strength and intensity growing more and more powerful with every second as Starkiller fed more and more of it towards his enemy. The strain was insatiable, but he had to keep it up. With the amount of lightning currently between him and his foe, Starkiller would easily be killed the moment he let his guard down.
"Give up now, young Sith, it is futile to continue!" Kota screamed, "If your lightning does not end you, then I shall!"
"NO!" Starkiller raged, the lightning doubling in power.
By now Art and Malik had felled at least ten waves of reinforcements, and the wear of battle began to lay upon them. Then, a rumbling. Not from the artillery nearly a mile above, no, this was much closer. The smoke thickened, and the shape of a large vehicle appeared coming around the corner. Atop it was mounted a plasma cannon. It shot, and the explosion sent the two troopers flying back against the wall.
Malik looked back between the now unconscious Art, and the approaching shadow. It was a small tank. How in sith hell they had managed to fit it down here was beyond him.
He picked himself up, but nearly fell back down again, as a blast whizzed past his face. He continued towards the fallen Private, and picked him up. Throwing the younger over his shoulder, he turned to the machine.
"Hey!" he shouted, "Come and get us, Shit Heads!"
Malik sprinted through the door way and onto the balcony, He looked to his left, and then again to his right. Not 5 meters away was a cat walk. Malik braced himself, and charged forward. He leaped off of the balcony, hoping that he would make the jump. The jump, which lasted less than a second, to Malik seemed an eternity. But eventually, his feet planted on to the metal surface, which swayed back and forth under the shock. He continued running.
By this time Starkiller had found himself unable to continue fueling the stream of lightning that bounced between them. Now he simply put all of his energy into continuously reflecting his own attack back at his foe, but even that was waning. He could not keep this up.
Mac's heavy machine blaster had cut through everything that came their way. The spinning barrels spit out plasma death faster than any other gun in the Imperial Arsenal. Though he was running low on ammunition.
Another rebel ran through the door way, rifle raised. He was able to get off a single shot before Mac practically cut him in half. However, it was a good shot, only barely missing Mac's helmet. The blast of plasma shot through the window behind them.
The tank barreled forward towards the door its two targets had just escaped through. The wall crumbled as it burst through.
"Force! Stop! Stop!" the commander shouted to the driver as he saw the edge and fall that lay before them.
It was too late for that, though. The machine's momentum could not be stopped at such short notice. The railing snapped like a twig under the tank's weight, and the craft toppled over the edge.
Kota had Starkiller on the ropes.
"You see it now, don't you?" he gloated, "How foolish it was of you to believe that you could actually defeat me."
There was a loud creaking of metal, and both Jedi and Sith Apprentice turned their attentions to the source of the horrible noise. There, above, was a tank tumbling over the edge of the balcony.
As the war machine came crashing to the ground with a great explosion, Kota's concentration was pulled to it. A mistake that would prove to be fatal, for as he was distracted, he did not notice the blaster bolt rushing towards him.
The concentrated plasma struck him in the hand, and his saber dropped. The now hyper-energized lightning that had once bounced between them now had nothing to stop it, and it struck the Jedi general hard in the chest, sending him flying backwards.
Now, he dangled over the abyss, one hand firmly grasping to the edge of the floor. Starkiller walked slowly towards his defeated foe, red blade glowing. He stood towering over the general, ready to land the killing blow. But, a little gloating never hurt anyone.
"So Jedi," he said, still catching his breath, "What was that you were saying about foolishness?"
"Win or lose, you are still the fool." Said Kota, "So you'll have killed me, and returned to your master victorious. But for what? The way of the Sith is the way of treachery. They are entirely self-centered. Manipulation is all they know. How long do you think it shall be, young one, before your master finds that he no longer has use for you? What do you think he shall do then?"
Starkiller stared down at the general.
"I can't really say." He said, "I guess we'll just have to find out."
Starkiller swung his blade down true, and cut from the general the hand that clutched to life. Kota fell, screaming as he plummeted into the abyss below.
Starkiller turned to find his men gathered behind him. Mac and Avery. Keyes and Fukes. Malik and Art, who was still unconscious and laying over the other's shoulder.
"Stormtroopers," he said, "We're done here."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: SO THAT'S CHAPTER THREE EVERYBODY. ANYWAY, I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT. AGAIN, I'D LIKE TO APOLOGIZE FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK. THE NEXT WILL DEFINITELY BE UP SOONER. (I HOPE.) ANYWAY, BE SURE TO LEAVE A REVIEW.