I'm getting pretty sick of reading about how cold and emotionless Boba Fett is. If he has to remind himself this many times, maybe he needs to do some serious self examination.
there are also a lot of traits that get very broadly assigned to a species, not as necessarily a common cultural thing but an inherent instinct or skill set. This makes sense when it comes to actual instincts and senses, such a special powers that might be useful in a fight. But segments like "it had taken some doing, plus prying and digging with various tools improvised from stiff, sharp pointed pieces of wire. But those were the sorts of skills that Twi males were born with." Just come across as weird and vague.
This is gonna be more of a personal documentation for me, but I do want to post my thoughts as I read. The first one being that while I understand that Trandoshans are ruthless, the author does not have to hammer that home to me every other paragraph. Especially not by implying that all Trandoshans are inherently evil and biologically incapable of valuing sentient life. Unless your villain is a psychopath serial killer, having him have no regard for any life, not even his own son's makes me question what his motive is in the first place, or why he follows any rules.
And oh let me tell you that is a hard thing to hear and actually do (not apologize) when you gravely hurt someone.
And Spike listens. And this episode only just starts to show that he changes that he is not going to force his presence on Buffy. But if she wants him there then he will be there. Spike, "I'm just a guy who can lend a hand, if you'll let me."
So, a while back I was watching Frequency (2000) and I had this idea for a Star Wars AU
Takes place during Luke's training with Yoda on Dagobah
Luke discovers force cave on his own where he's able to talk to Anakin through time
Luke thinks Vader killed Anakin + doesn't know how his mom died
First Contact: no info exchanged, but Luke is fascinated by the thought that he may be communicating with other surviving Jedi, potentially a whole surviving order like what Anakin describes
Luke asks Obi-Wan who explains that there was an order, but describes Order 66 + Downfall
Luke asks Yoda about the Clone Wars + his father and mother but Yoda is reluctant to answer. Luke then appeals to ghost Obi-Wan who gives him a slightly modified version of the story with several true details.
"Chancellor Palpatine gave Order 66 and ensnared your father. When your mother, Senator Amidala arrived to beg for his life, Darth Vader murdered the both of them."
During Luke's second encounter in the cave, he tries to warn Anakin
"Listen to me- listen to me! Chancellor Palpatine is a Sith Lord and he's luring you into a trap. If you had just-"
"Listen, I don't know who you are, but Chancelor Palpatine is a good man-"
"What about Mom?"
"What are you-"
"Padme Amidala, something happened to her, Vader or the Emperor-"
"No!"
"Listen to me-"
"You stay away from her!"
The connection is lost, and Luke goes back to training. Yoda can sense that his mind is troubled.
Luke's words echo through Anakin's thoughts as he sits beside Palpatine at the Opera. He accuses Palpatine and a fight ensues. Palpatine gets away, and in the future Padme is still dead.
Luke and Anakin shift their focus figuring out who Darth Vader is and how to stop him
His uncle was going to kill him, that much Ben was certain of as he shoved his pack full of- he wasn’t sure what. It didn’t matter. His voices were saying things he couldn’t understand. They sounded like the man he’d seen in the holocrons, but he knew it couldn’t be his grandfather.
Sensing something, Ben whirled and the eerie glow of his uncle’s saber pierced the darkness. The world around him swam in green.
“Wake up,” Luke said.
Before he knew what he was doing, he’d ignited his own saber.
He ran his uncle through.
“Wake up!”
“Wake up!”
Ben’s eyes shot open. His neck ached and his arm was being pinched and shaken by a pair of tiny hands. He shut his eyes again, breathing slowly. He remembered now, none of that was real.
“Wake up!” The voice beside him was hoarse and frantic, and Ben’s aching arm protested as the girl jolted it again, “They’re taking your ship!”
“What?” The boy jolted upright and scrambled to his feet. A bundle of low-hanging wires smacked against the back of his neck, and he cringed as he stumbled to the door.
A blazing heat rose before him and sent him staggering back into the old A.T.A.T. The sun on the desert floor was cruel and bright. ‘Worse,’ Ben thought, ‘than both of Tatooine’s combined,’ and it had already risen into the center of the sky.
He rubbed his eyes, swimming with spots like a puddle of oil, and pushed past the curtain into the heat. His own clothes felt like they were burning his skin, but he felt such a frenzy that he paid it little mind. He scrambled through the sand, every footstep futile on the sliding landscape, until he took a wrong step at the top of a dune and found himself on the other side, mouthful of sand.
“Hey!” he cried, as he neared the crest where his ship sat wedged in the sand, “Hey, get away from- Ow!”
Ben only just dodged a blow to his face. The staff meant for him landed beside his head with a thwack and showered sand into his eyes. He heard a mixture of voices, high and low, shouting in another language, and before he could rub the sand out of his eyes he was dodging something to his right, then to his left.
He could just make out two figures now, wielding staves on either side of him. If he was careful, he could take them on, and maybe even win. He swung out with his fist just as a splitting pain pierce the back of his skull.
“Aagh!” apparently there were three, and the other two took their chance to knock out his knees and pin him in the sand. They hit him a few more times before he realized he wouldn’t be able to stand up without getting pummeled. His best bet was to roll back down the dune, but they managed to get two good whacks in, even as he did.
When he’d skidded to a stop there was even more sand in his eyes than before. But the shouting had subsided.
For a moment Ben laid very still, the dry sun above, the dry sand below. He rubbed his eyes, he reached out.
“Solo, Solo…”
“Ben!”
Suddenly, there was shade.
“Rey?”
The girl held a staff tightly in two fists, she was squinting in the sun, her face set with determination, “You need this.”
Slowly, Ben nodded, he stood and took the staff. The little girl smiled at him, like a teacher offering encouragement, and she followed him as he started up the dune once more. It wasn’t as hard to climb this time.
At the top he could see two figures clearly. They looked much like Rey had; faces wrapped and goggles dark. They’d set back to work on his ship and seemed not to notice him creeping up behind them.
A shrill chirp pierced the air, and the scavengers whipped their heads around. They were not fast enough. Ben moved quickly, the staff spun easily in his hands, and the two hit the sand with a soft thud.
“Ben!”
Ben looked back at Rey, pointing enthusiastically to the top of the ship,
“Up there!” she cried.
On the roof was another scavenger, and her cries had caught his attention as well. He launched himself down at the child, staff raised before him to strike.
“Rey!” Ben cried out. He raised his hand, and the adversary changed trajectory midair. Ben held him there for a second before he flicked his wrist and slammed the body against the chrome paneling.
“Hey,” Ben shuffled over as fast as he could, “Hey, kid, you okay?”
The child didn’t answer, she just stared, eyes wide and wary.
“Hey! Hey, Rey!” Ben snapped. Her eyes opened wider.
“Are you a good jedi,” she spoke carefully, “or a bad jedi?”
It took Ben a moment, then he began to laugh. Rey seemed to relax a little.
“Bad jedi,” Ben chuckled, “A very bad jedi.”
Rey crossed her arms,
“I don’t believe you,” she said and stomped away to the control panel and the unconscious scavengers,
“Well,” she said, comically serious with her hands on her hips, “Your ship’s karked.”
Ben’s laughter stopped abruptly, “What?”
He slid over to the open panel. Wires fizzled, stripped down to their bare bones, their lining scattered in the sand.
“Kriff!” he knelt to scoop up the pieces, “Kriff! Kriff! Kriff!”
Ben Solo sank into the sand. He wished it would swallow him whole.
“What are you gonna do?”
Ben sighed into his hands, “I don’t know.”
He sniffed as the vast desert grew blurry before him and ran the coarse sleeve of his robe across his eyes. Maybe he was being punished. For defying the will of the force, the will of his uncle. No matter what he did, it would always end like this.
He had two options now. Die here or call for help and let himself be taken. He’d cheated destiny and lost the game.
“I can fix it.”
Ben looked up.
“The fuel lines are easy,” Rey tapped the open panel, “It’s the power cell. You’re gonna need a new one.”
“Ok,” Ben nodded. That didn’t sound so bad, “Ok, where do we get one of those?”
Rey hummed, “Got any credits?”
“Yeah,” Ben said, patting his pockets. He wasn’t sure how many, but his uncle wasn’t going to be very happy the next time he checked the temple safe.
“Good, because you’ll need a sealant too.”
“Ok.”
“And another conductor coil.”
“Alright, we can—”
“And I think someone drained all your coolant last night.”
“Rey…”
“It’s ok! It’s ok! I got it!” the girl assured him with a smile which did not inspire confidence.
Behind them the scavengers began to stir. Rey kicked a spray of sand into their faces, and they scuttled backwards to their feet, chattering unintelligibly.
“Hey!” Rey called after them, “Hey my friends a kriffin’ jedi and if you touch his ship he’ll slice your—”
“Rey!”
The girl looked up at Ben, her smile wide and excited, wild like her eyes.
“I’m not—” Ben stammered. He clenched his fist, steadied himself, “I’m not gonna kill anyone. We’re kind of trying to keep a low profile here.”
Rey shrugged, she looked a little disappointed as she tugged her staff from his hand and began her shuffle back to the ATAT. Ben shuffled after her, his longer legs gave him an advantage, and he caught up pretty quickly.
“So where do we get the power cell?” he asked.
“Niima outpost,” Rey answered, “They mostly sell stuff to spacers there, and buy stuff from us.”
Ben glanced backwards, “What about the ship.”
“It’ll be alright,” Rey said, craning her neck to look up at him and squinting in the sun, “If one Teedo knows to keep away they all do.”
“Comms?” Ben asked, stepping a little to the side so that the girl was in his shadow now.
Rey shook her head, tapping her little finger against her temple.
“Huh,” Ben nodded thoughtfully, “Telepaths, never met one of those before.”
“It’s just with other Teedos,” Rey shrugged, “Not like they can read your mind or anything.”
She glanced him over before adding, “Not like jedi can, anyway.”
Ben shook his head and ruffled the kid's hair, slicked back though it was in a tight bun. She whipped her head around and frowned at him before stomping ahead and kicking up sand in her wake.
Ben smiled, it wasn’t much, but he had more of a plan now than he’d had when he’d first left Ossus in the middle of the night. Maybe he could do this after all.
Dim light flickered over the room, casting shadows upon the walls that called Ben Solo from his sleep.
The first thing the boy felt was the suffocating humidity. It hung in the air like a weighted blanket and seemed to seep into his lungs.
For an instant he imagined himself back at the temple on Ossus. Panic, surged through his scattered thoughts, and he knew he had to leave.
He tried to stand, the ground swam in front of him and his legs gave way.
“Where are you?”
An angry voice sent him reeling. He buckled at the knees and clutched his head, willing it away.
“Solo!”
“No,” he whispered, grasping at his scalp, “No,”
Snoke’s voice was back.
Luke was gonna kill him.
A flicker of movement caught the corner of his eye, and in an instant of pure instinct he reached for his lightsaber-
Only to find himself grasping at empty space.
He looked up, the flickering shadows thrust light into strange corners, and illuminated the sharp, hollow features of a little girl.
So it had been real. The crash had slipped into his memory like a sort of fevered dream.
“You were asleep,” she said. He could see her more clearly now, as his eyes adjusted. The girl stood behind a sort of improvised counter, stacked with metal and dusted with crumbs; her eyes were wide and wary as they took him in.
“So were you,” he sighed, running a hand through his matted hair. Grains of sand stuck beneath his fingernails as he tried to loosen up the clumps and tangles that had formed.
For a really long time,” she emphasized. Her face relaxed a little, and fear was replaced with the look of veiled disappointment Ben had seen on nearly everyone he’d ever met.
He frowned, “Well I’ll try not to do that next time I save your life,”
“I’m sorry,” the girl seemed to remember her fear anew, “You tried to kill me first.”
Ben opened his mouth to retort but nothing came to mind; the kid made a fair point,
“I’m sorry,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “I wasn’t tryna kill you, I just thought I’d maybe scare you a little.”
“Oh…”
“You were trying to steal my ship,”
“Sorry,” the kid said hesitantly. There was a ding from one of the contraptions on the counter, and she turned her attention away from him to take care of it.
Ben huffed and leaned back on his hands, taking in his surroundings. It was a tough habit to shake, growing up with heroes of the Republic and endless drills from his Uncle Luke on ‘Feeling his surroundings’. At a glance, the ATAT looked like a prison, a barely habitable one at that; like something straight out of the Citadel he’d toured with the other padawans.
Everything in it was cold rusted metal, probably never meant to see the outside of an engine. A single light source hung in the middle, a cylindrical lantern of sorts which filtered light through a number of holes punched into it’s side, and onto the drab gray walls, layered with grime, and shadows, and littered with tic marks scratched with an unsteady hand,
“Where are your parents?” he asked, a moment before realizing what an idiotic question it was,
The girl stepped around him and sat down with two bowls before following his gaze to her handiwork on the wall,
“They’re gone,” she said calmly
Ben raised a hand to his forehead, he was an idiot. As a padawan he should have read the room better, and as a human being he should have known not to dredge up painful memories,
“I’m sorry,”
“It’s okay!” she corrected him, her wide eyes sparkling as she pushed on of the bowls over to him, “They’re coming back!”
“Oh, I…” he looked from the tic marks to the little girl in front of him, half starved and covered in sandy grime, and wondered how anyone could abandon their child to fend for themselves on a strange planet.
“Here,” she handed him a utensil and gestured to the bowl, “Eat,”
He shoveled a few bites down, having realized after the first that he was starving. But the girl had practically inhaled hers. She was scraping at the bottom of the plate before he was halfway through, and he wondered how often she was able to eat.
“Here,” he pushed his plate over to her, and she glanced up from her crumbs in surprise, “I’m full.”
Needing no second bidding, the kid snatched the plate, and shoveled a forkful of the bread-like substance into her mouth. As she chewed, she actually smiled at him,
“What’s your name?” she asked, crumbs flying out of her moth half full.
“Ben,” he answered, shifting awkwardly on the sand floor, “What’s yours?”
She had to finish chewing another mouthful before she could answer him, “Rey,”
“Are you a smuggler?” she asked, leaning in excitedly,
“No,” he shrugged, “Just a pilot.”
“Not a very good one,”
“Hey!”
“Sorry!”
Ben sighed, “I started out with low fuel, figured I had enough to stop somewhere Outer Rim and fill up,”
He paused, grimacing at his own carelessness, “It got me here, just didn’t keep me airborne.”
Rey's eyes widened,
“You’re running away,” she observed in awe.
Ben frowned, “Yeah,”
He buried his head in his hands; the whole thing was a mess. He'd planned it all so perfectly but he got sloppy. He’d spooked like a wild massiff and ruined everything.
He should have fueled up first,
He should have brought supplies,
He should have thought before he acted for once in his life,
“Yeah,” he sighed, “I was,”
The girl, Rey, watched him closely and her face fell,
“Well,” she began quietly, scooting closer, “At least they won’t find you now. Nobody comes here.”
Ben scoffed, “That’s not what I’m afraid of.”
Rey nodded and took a last bite before letting the fork clatter into the bowl,
“I gotta go to Niima tomorrow,” she said, standing up, “Maybe we can fix your ship,”
Ben nodded, glancing once more at the tick marks on the wall. How many were there?
“Yeah,” he laughed dryly, “Maybe,”
Rey walked to another corner of the room, and sat on a pile of scrap cloth. Reaching into it, she pulled out a strange little rag doll. Scraps of bright orange fabric made up the arms and legs, and a vest of dingy white was the middle, all held together by a bundle of messy twine. Ben smiled.
“This is Captain Ræh,” she said, “She’s a pilot, like you.”
Ben smiled softly. He had to fix his ship.
“Goodnight kid,” he said, laying back down in the position he’d woken up.
Rey sounded more cheerful than she’d been at the start of their conversation when she said, “Goodnight Ben!” and switched off the lantern.
The night was pitch black, but Ben didn’t mind it so much as he had in his hut on Ossus. Dreamless sleep overtook him quickly, and there were no voices to wake him.
That was the first thing Ben noticed once the throbbing pain in his fist had subsided. For how long, he didn’t know; his mind had been occupied with trying to salvage The Grimtaash, but he speculated that his frantic cursing had done nothing to deter spectators.
He breathed deep and slow, as if he could somehow glean moisture from the air and slumped over in the relative shade of his ships wing, a silent cry of desperation on his parched lips. The sand, though cooler than it had been, continued to radiate heat, and made him far more aware of the sweat permeating his wooly robes. He realized he probably smelled, and he ought to have taken another set, but he’d been so sure of reaching Yavin IV intact, the necessity had never occurred to him. He’d make a sorry recruit for the New Republic Pilot’s Academy if he arrived looking like this.
That was… if he arrived at all.
He was starting to doubt his chances.
The sun had continued to climb higher than he thought possible, and he stared out across the hazy desert, wondering what could possibly stand to live there. He wondered if he would die there.
Could this be his fate?
To die of dehydration, smothered by his own robes on some backwater planet?
He spotted that thing across the sands, staring at him from a toppled walker, waiting for him to die,
“Won’t be long now,” he murmured, eyes falling closed beneath the sun’s oppressive luster.
By now Uncle Luke would have discovered him gone; Ben guessed there’d be search-parties planet-wide looking for him, probably rumors of a kidnapping too. But Luke would know.
Uncle Luke had known from the start what Ben wanted, but he’d always said that the galaxy needed Ben Solo Jedi more than it needed Ben Solo pilot.
Ben had never believed that; not for a second.
But it didn’t matter now because the galaxy would have neither if he died here.
Ben opened his eyes and scanned the horizon. There wasn’t any sign of a town for miles, nor life for that matter, but for the strange creature watching him greedily from the sands.
Perhaps, he thought, he ought to try again.
The heat struck him as he stepped out from the shade, but he brushed it off. Staggering, he made his way to the other side of the dune and planted his feet firmly in the sand. Blisters which had been developing for the better part of an hour were agitated by the scalding sand sweeping in through his cloth boots; they made it difficult to concentrate, but the boy shut his eyes. He reached out with everything he had, and something shifted.
He opened his eyes.
It was the Grimtaash, sinking further into the sand.
“Aargh!” he muffled a cry with his hands and collapsed on the sand.
The voices were right,
He was weak.
Without the voices he was nothing.
He thought, perhaps, if he opened himself to them—
Scronch
Ben’s head shot up.
It was a familiar sound, of boots trudging through the dense desert sand. It was the only sound he’d heard as he’d watched, for the better part of an hour, as the sand noiselessly devoured his ship, but those had been his own monotonous footsteps. Now he could only guess at what manner of creature they might belong to.
Instinctively, the boy scrambled for cover along the ships rear. He guessed it was the creature he’d observed earlier, and judging by its rapid shuffling in his direction, he had to assume it meant him no good.
His hand grasped for his saber, only… he’d forgotten; he’d left the saber with Luke. At the time it had seemed cool, and symbolic.
He realized now, it had just been stupid.
Whatever it was had stopped now, just a few paces away from him, and all he could hear was his own shallow breathing in the dry desert air-
Followed shortly by the horrifying screech of steel against chrome paneling.
His chrome paneling
His ship!
Before his mind had a chance to react, his feet were already carrying him over the sand.
“Gotcha!” he cried,
In a singular movement, he’d come upon the ship’s assailant, and caught it in a vice grip. Weakened by the sun, he struggled to keep his hold on the scavenger, writhing erratically. Though it was far smaller than he’d first thought, just about half his height, it made up for its stature with a series of powerful well-aimed kicks.
“Aagh!” he cried over its wild, high-pitched squeal as his right leg, already exhausted, buckled under a blow to the knee. He made an attempt to right himself, an instant of weakness, and felt the sickening thud of a blunt object against his ribs.
He stumbled backward and fell, scalding his hands on the desert floor. The scavenger seized its chance, scurrying jaggedly away across the sands.
“Dank Farrick you little—” he cried, scrambling to his feet, but it was of little use. The scavenger was halfway down the towering dune, and he was in no shape to chase it. The blow to his chest had only knocked the wind out of him, but that was more than it should have done.
A feeling of helplessness tore at his lungs as he watched it shuffling away. Scavengers were known to be unsavory people, but he’d heard from his uncle of people like the Jawas, and their vast technical knowledge. Perhaps, if he’d only been stronger, he might have been able to get some help with his ship.
Ben Solo watched from the high sand dune as his last hope of salvation bolted- stumbled- rolled, and at last came to rest in the trough between two dunes. There the creature lay nestled, still and quiet, in the scorching sands and thought struck him that perhaps, it might not get up
Ben started, snapped suddenly from his heated daze,
“I—” he found his throat too dry to finish the thought, but the voice in his head came through clear,
‘Killer’ it whispered, with a tantalizing appeal that almost made him want to believe it.
Drawing in a shaky breath, he fumbled over the dune, now running, now sliding, now rolling down a mountain of blistering sand until he came to rest at the side of the unconscious creature. Unable to tell if it was breathing, he gathered it gently in his brawny arms, and spent the last of his strength carrying the little masked scavenger to its makeshift hovel, where, once in the shade, he laid it on the floor, and collapsed alongside it.
His eyes had begun to drift shut when his ear caught the sound of muffled breathing through the scavenger’s cloth mask; reaching forward, he began to tug it off. It took more effort than it should have, and he was about to give up, when at last the mask came free, and, rolling back, Ben was at last able to see the face of his attacker.
“No…”
The scavenger who’d watched him so malevolently, who’d attacked his ship and fought him so fiercely-
The cries of the dark-haired boy rang over the vast stretch of sand, as he brought his fist down on the searing panels of his starship for the twentieth time since he’d crashed that morning.
Rey watched him from the entrance of her walker, half in fascination, half in fear, and filed that curse away in her memory as she took another enthusiastic bite of insta-bread.
The boy had crashed nearly an hour ago, lodging half his ship in the crest of a sand dune in what she’d assumed was an attempt to soften his landing. Since then, she’d watched him try nearly everything to get it up and running again, but to no avail.
At any other time of day, she speculated, chewing thoughtfully, he might have been successful. But his attempts had been thwarted by the midday sun, which had heated the steel ship so that it was impossible to touch. The heat was coming off it in visible waves, and the boy, standing beside it in thick brown robes, looked on the point of collapse. He’d already burned pretty badly; the pale ones always did.
When she’d finished eating, he was still there, sitting with his arms around his knees in the shade of one of the wings. She wondered how long she’d have to wait for him to abandon it. He seemed persistent, and she guessed she might be waiting there past nightfall, unless he fainted or froze before then.
But when she came back from setting away her dish he was gone. Eagerly, she pulled on her gloves and darted out of the walker; she’d have to work quickly, a new crash always brought a swarm. The sand grew warmer beneath her feet the further out she got, and as she drew nearer she could feel the heat coming off the metal like a second sun.
She double checked her gloves for any exposed skin and examined the ship carefully. She didn’t know much about what ships were called, she’d only ever been taught the names of their parts, but she could tell just by looking at this one that it was special. In all the six years of her short life, she’d never seen anything like it.
Double engines and a curved front, all separate from the spacious inner cabin, had hardly been dented in the fall, any damage must have been to the interior technical system, but that could be easily fixed. She wondered, as she began to pry of a bit of the polished chrome paneling, how he could have abandoned such a wonderful thing so easily.
“Gotcha!”
Suddenly a pair of arms were around her, and she was entrapped by hands almost as big as her head
“Let me go!” she screamed, kicking instinctively; but the more she struggled the stronger the stranger’s grip became.
Rey felt herself gripped by a wave of terror, larger and more suffocating than the last. The stranger must have been crushing her ribs so that she couldn’t breathe.
As a last desperate attempt at escape, she threw her head backward, unsure of what she might achieve in doing so.
“Dank Farrick you little—”
Apparently it worked. The stranger’s grip loosened, and she took that moment to bolt.
She scurried down the dune as fast as her legs would take her, ignoring the throbbing pain in the back of her head, and tumbled the last meter or so. She could feel the hot sand seeping into her shoes and clothes, and it hurt to run, but she couldn’t stop. She ran for the only place with some semblance of shelter. She ran until she could run no more.
Her legs gave out and she felt herself tumble again, the sun flashing in her eyes as she rolled.
The last thing she felt was the throbbing ache of her head and the pulsing heat of the sandy ground.
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