I'm posting this as a favor to a friend. You can email C&C to galicianknighte@icqmail.com
This will also be posted on my website http://abnighthawke.homestead.com/ABNightHawkeMain.html sometime within the next day or so.
Star Wars is owned by Lucasfilm and not used with permission or for money yadda, yadda, yadda, you know the drill.
Prologue
Most colonized planets had their areas still uninhabited by
people. These wildernesses often became refugee areas first or a home
to those hardy people who broke the land and brought about fruitful
harvests.
On the planet, Stend VI, there existed such a wilderness, one
that was dry and mostly barren. Life owed existence to the most durable
and resilient of vegetation. The kind of life that was able to
withstand long summer periods of sun, and short winter periods of
flooding. In the same wilderness there was a certain rock cave. Deep
inside the cave, an intravenous drip was sustaining a different kind of
life, the life of a human.
The I.V. drip was clearly at the limits of its capacity. The
figure below the setup had the appearance of quiet sleep - near
lifeless. Suddenly the bag and the unit it was attached to began to
gently shake as a silent alarm flashed its warning into the darkness of
the cave room. But there was no one around to take notice.
Several minutes passed and the lifeless figure began to stir. A twitch
of muscle in the face, a wiggle of an arm, and a nod of the head were
all brought about by uncoordinated movement.
Something had disturbed Droan, he was sure of that now as his
trance broke off. He focused on his breathing as he began to mentally
remember functions of his body. His mind was a mass of memories,
dreams, or illusions -- what seemed a lifetime apart. Some vivid and
real, some inescapable, but none like the darkness that lingered in the
back of his mind, barely conscious.
Droan blinked, not sure if his eyes were open at first. They
were. He could make out a light flashing nearby. He tried to raise his
head, only his neck didn't cooperate. Yes, he thought, I must restore
my muscle function. I have probably been here for some time.
It was true. A full spectrum of seasons had past unbeknownst to
Droan. It was late summer once again, but it did not matter. Droan was
here for another purpose. One that was oriented to his ultimate being.
A purpose that expanded his knowledge of the multiverse, his belief in
life - the purpose of a Jedi.
Droan was no Jedi. No, to be one of the Knights who were the
defenders of the Old Republic, you must have already mastered the inner
force of self over the lure of the Dark Side. But Droan had succumbed
to its lure. He had felt its hate coursing through him as he killed
helpless defenders of the Light Side, and its thrill of destruction when
it was over. He had felt all those things, and his later return to the
Light had not diminished them from his thoughts and actions, it only
brought more sadness. It had not caused him to forget. No, that was
why he had come here, to forget. To let the world pass him by for a
time and forget him. Perhaps then he could forget. To forget the
darkness that was near him, just beyond his grasp, tempting him to reach
out into it and have it join with him again. No, thought Droan, too
much hate, too much. Then his melancholy returned; he was no Jedi.
Again as he closed his eyes, Droan focused on his body,
releasing his emotions, and let the Force flow through him as It
reanimated and revived him. He could sense his muscles begin to rebuild
themselves, his tendons tighten where they met bone, and his ligaments
reinforce his joints. Yes, Droan's body was again brought to life as
the Force guided his thoughts and filled his being. But wherever there
was a dark spot of attention, a hidden crevice of focus, a microscopic
pit of his body, there the Dark Side crept in and reinforced Droan's
abilities, always elusive and evading him whenever he sensed it at his
area of concentration.
Droan brought himself together as some time passed before he
once again opened his eyes and attempted to understand his surroundings.
The flashing light provided little in the way of illumination, and even
less in the way of useful purpose at present, as there was no container
that could refill the now empty bag. But the little light did not
bother Droan, neither did the empty bag, for he could use supernatural
means to assist him with his surrounds, and the bag had already expended
its usefulness. Droan used his abilities and accustomed himself to the
cave around him and recollected a distant memory of the area.
Relying on the Force for strength, he lifted himself off of the
naturally warmed slab of rock that had been his bed for the past year;
there must have been some underground hot spot to keep the cave
unusually warm, one of the reasons why Droan had picked this area.
Droan looked down at the needle in his arm and noted how it had quietly
remained there feeding him nutrients from the I.V. bag as he had
hibernated. He carefully pulled it out and let it fall as easily as he
had inserted it nearly a year ago. Any natural human would have died
long ago due to infection at the site of the puncture, but Droan's
abilities were far from natural. All the while the healing of Droan's
disused body accelerated.
Slowly, at first, Droan started towards the small supply chest in a
corner. Brushing the dust off of the top, the highly reflective
lettering added a dim glow to the cave. It read: Medical Supplies.
Opening the chest a small light illuminated the inside, revealing the
contents. Droan reached inside and brought out a bottle. Carefully
twisting off the cap he took a sip and then poured much of the water
onto his hands and similarly washed his face. He finished the rest of
the contents with a few long swallows.
While the water was refreshing to Droan, he quickly found
himself ravished by hunger. Searching through the chest, he produced a
packet and carefully swallowed every bite of the nutritional contents.
It was now time to gather up his things, and leave, but not before
leaving his mark on a cave wall.
Cautiously slipping his blaster pistol on while carrying the
chest, Droan made his way towards the entrance of the cave. The pistol
reminded him of a time when he did not use such weapons. A time when he
said it took more courage to fight without them. It also reminded Droan
of the fact that his Jedi training had not yet been completed.
The light grew steadily brighter as Droan approached the
entrance. It also made Droan's eyes painfully aware that he had been a
long time in the dark. As he approached the light, his awareness of the
Force inside him seemed more apparent. Yes, Droan too could feel the
darkness lose some of its hold over him as he left the dark of the cave
behind. Droan's hibernation had indeed served a useful purpose, but
Droan was still far from pure.
Droan slowly continued towards the nearby entrance, then
suddenly disappeared down a side tunnel. Here it is thought Droan, just
as I left it. Droan poked his head into some brush, apparently
investigating something. "Ah," he said testing his voice, and his inner
thoughts aloud, "she should have enough juice to go." Droan then pulled
aside the brush to reveal a Mobquet Nebulon-S racing swoop. One of the
sweet machines of the sky. Thumbing a button on a consul Droan said,
"All right you Ugly Moon, let's go." Somewhere a switch flipped
engaging the ion engine, elsewhere energy began to flow through a power
converter to the ignition. The engine coughed and sputtered for a few
moments and then suddenly caught.
VAROOM!
The noise was deafening in the close quarters, but to Droan it
was a painfully sweet sound.
Droan stashed away the chest in the tiny hold and produced a few
tools. After a few minor adjustments, he depressed the accelerator
increasingly and the swoop rocked back and forth as it swooned and
hummed. Replacing the tools, Droan hopped into the familiar seat,
produced a pair of solar lenses from some hidden pocket, put them on,
and blasted out of the cave like no tomorrow.
The scanner showed it was 250 km to the nearest town. No
problem, thought Droan smiling, only a 20 min. ride.
(End of Prologue.)
Prologue
Most colonized planets had their areas still uninhabited by
people. These wildernesses often became refugee areas first or a home
to those hardy people who broke the land and brought about fruitful
harvests.
On the planet, Stend VI, there existed such a wilderness, one
that was dry and mostly barren. Life owed existence to the most durable
and resilient of vegetation. The kind of life that was able to
withstand long summer periods of sun, and short winter periods of
flooding. In the same wilderness there was a certain rock cave. Deep
inside the cave, an intravenous drip was sustaining a different kind of
life, the life of a human.
The I.V. drip was clearly at the limits of its capacity. The
figure below the setup had the appearance of quiet sleep - near
lifeless. Suddenly the bag and the unit it was attached to began to
gently shake as a silent alarm flashed its warning into the darkness of
the cave room. But there was no one around to take notice.
Several minutes passed and the lifeless figure began to stir. A twitch
of muscle in the face, a wiggle of an arm, and a nod of the head were
all brought about by uncoordinated movement.
Something had disturbed Droan, he was sure of that now as his
trance broke off. He focused on his breathing as he began to mentally
remember functions of his body. His mind was a mass of memories,
dreams, or illusions -- what seemed a lifetime apart. Some vivid and
real, some inescapable, but none like the darkness that lingered in the
back of his mind, barely conscious.
Droan blinked, not sure if his eyes were open at first. They
were. He could make out a light flashing nearby. He tried to raise his
head, only his neck didn't cooperate. Yes, he thought, I must restore
my muscle function. I have probably been here for some time.
It was true. A full spectrum of seasons had past unbeknownst to
Droan. It was late summer once again, but it did not matter. Droan was
here for another purpose. One that was oriented to his ultimate being.
A purpose that expanded his knowledge of the multiverse, his belief in
life - the purpose of a Jedi.
Droan was no Jedi. No, to be one of the Knights who were the
defenders of the Old Republic, you must have already mastered the inner
force of self over the lure of the Dark Side. But Droan had succumbed
to its lure. He had felt its hate coursing through him as he killed
helpless defenders of the Light Side, and its thrill of destruction when
it was over. He had felt all those things, and his later return to the
Light had not diminished them from his thoughts and actions, it only
brought more sadness. It had not caused him to forget. No, that was
why he had come here, to forget. To let the world pass him by for a
time and forget him. Perhaps then he could forget. To forget the
darkness that was near him, just beyond his grasp, tempting him to reach
out into it and have it join with him again. No, thought Droan, too
much hate, too much. Then his melancholy returned; he was no Jedi.
Again as he closed his eyes, Droan focused on his body,
releasing his emotions, and let the Force flow through him as It
reanimated and revived him. He could sense his muscles begin to rebuild
themselves, his tendons tighten where they met bone, and his ligaments
reinforce his joints. Yes, Droan's body was again brought to life as
the Force guided his thoughts and filled his being. But wherever there
was a dark spot of attention, a hidden crevice of focus, a microscopic
pit of his body, there the Dark Side crept in and reinforced Droan's
abilities, always elusive and evading him whenever he sensed it at his
area of concentration.
Droan brought himself together as some time passed before he
once again opened his eyes and attempted to understand his surroundings.
The flashing light provided little in the way of illumination, and even
less in the way of useful purpose at present, as there was no container
that could refill the now empty bag. But the little light did not
bother Droan, neither did the empty bag, for he could use supernatural
means to assist him with his surrounds, and the bag had already expended
its usefulness. Droan used his abilities and accustomed himself to the
cave around him and recollected a distant memory of the area.
Relying on the Force for strength, he lifted himself off of the
naturally warmed slab of rock that had been his bed for the past year;
there must have been some underground hot spot to keep the cave
unusually warm, one of the reasons why Droan had picked this area.
Droan looked down at the needle in his arm and noted how it had quietly
remained there feeding him nutrients from the I.V. bag as he had
hibernated. He carefully pulled it out and let it fall as easily as he
had inserted it nearly a year ago. Any natural human would have died
long ago due to infection at the site of the puncture, but Droan's
abilities were far from natural. All the while the healing of Droan's
disused body accelerated.
Slowly, at first, Droan started towards the small supply chest in a
corner. Brushing the dust off of the top, the highly reflective
lettering added a dim glow to the cave. It read: Medical Supplies.
Opening the chest a small light illuminated the inside, revealing the
contents. Droan reached inside and brought out a bottle. Carefully
twisting off the cap he took a sip and then poured much of the water
onto his hands and similarly washed his face. He finished the rest of
the contents with a few long swallows.
While the water was refreshing to Droan, he quickly found
himself ravished by hunger. Searching through the chest, he produced a
packet and carefully swallowed every bite of the nutritional contents.
It was now time to gather up his things, and leave, but not before
leaving his mark on a cave wall.
Cautiously slipping his blaster pistol on while carrying the
chest, Droan made his way towards the entrance of the cave. The pistol
reminded him of a time when he did not use such weapons. A time when he
said it took more courage to fight without them. It also reminded Droan
of the fact that his Jedi training had not yet been completed.
The light grew steadily brighter as Droan approached the
entrance. It also made Droan's eyes painfully aware that he had been a
long time in the dark. As he approached the light, his awareness of the
Force inside him seemed more apparent. Yes, Droan too could feel the
darkness lose some of its hold over him as he left the dark of the cave
behind. Droan's hibernation had indeed served a useful purpose, but
Droan was still far from pure.
Droan slowly continued towards the nearby entrance, then
suddenly disappeared down a side tunnel. Here it is thought Droan, just
as I left it. Droan poked his head into some brush, apparently
investigating something. "Ah," he said testing his voice, and his inner
thoughts aloud, "she should have enough juice to go." Droan then pulled
aside the brush to reveal a Mobquet Nebulon-S racing swoop. One of the
sweet machines of the sky. Thumbing a button on a consul Droan said,
"All right you Ugly Moon, let's go." Somewhere a switch flipped
engaging the ion engine, elsewhere energy began to flow through a power
converter to the ignition. The engine coughed and sputtered for a few
moments and then suddenly caught.
VAROOM!
The noise was deafening in the close quarters, but to Droan it
was a painfully sweet sound.
Droan stashed away the chest in the tiny hold and produced a few
tools. After a few minor adjustments, he depressed the accelerator
increasingly and the swoop rocked back and forth as it swooned and
hummed. Replacing the tools, Droan hopped into the familiar seat,
produced a pair of solar lenses from some hidden pocket, put them on,
and blasted out of the cave like no tomorrow.
The scanner showed it was 250 km to the nearest town. No
problem, thought Droan smiling, only a 20 min. ride.
(End of Prologue.)