Summary: Republic Trooper Vladislav Raginis is thrown forward in time while investigating an accident. He must find his way back home while navigating a whole new war, but is he the only one?
AN: This is a re-write and re-post of Different Times. Things redone, backstories rewritten, etc.
AN 1: Vladislav wears the Havoc Squad armor (excluding the helmet) from the Cartel Market (which I got off the GTN for a stupidly cheap price of 650000, considering).
AN 2: He is 21 and has just finished Taris in this fic.
This is Part 5 of The Raginis Legacy, enjoy.
Chapter 1: Out of Time
The Negotiator came to a halt. It had been ready to enter hyperspace but had stopped. The reason? A BT7 Thunderclap had floated into its path, appearing out of nowhere. It's condition was not good. Even though it had gone through the wringer, they could still make out the grey and white paint jobs. The insignia was the shocking part. On it was the symbol of the Old Republic. As soon as that was seen, an order was given to bring the ship aboard. As it was, Obi-Wan and Commander Cody walked down to the hanger. The Thunderclap, or as it was named The Firebird, was lowered down as gently as possible.
Both General and Commander walked up to the door. It fell open. The inside of the Thunderclap was no better. Items thrown about, wires showing, smoke. It looked like it had been thrown into a giant dryer and spun around. The pair made their way to the cockpit. That was when they found him. A lone male lay slumped on the console. The pilot was still but breathing. He seemed semi-conscious at least.
He had medium length black hair. It was parted to one side, though it was matted with blood. His eyes were closed. He had a squarish face and a sturdy build. He'd need it, if his armor he wore was anything to go by. It was big and rather bulky and looked a bit like an ARC's (with a few differences). A rifle lay discarded across the cockpit.
Obi-Wan reached out towards the pilot. He kept one hand on his saber. With the other, he nudged the soldier, who groaned quietly. "Who?" he managed to slur out. One hand reaching for his blaster pistol, the man struggled to push himself up.
"I'd stay down Trooper, it looks like you took a nasty hit to the head." The Jedi addressed him. His hand left his saber. "We'll get you to the med-bay. Come on… Cody, would you do me a favor and call for a stretcher?"
"M'fine 'lara." A haphazardly tossed about wave, "May'e not…" he went limp, finally slipping unconscious.
End Chapter
QOTC:
NT: The medieval ages was pretty decent… Minus the black death and wars every other weekend.