Post by Rain on Mar 5, 2008 16:12:45 GMT -5
Enjoy 
And a special thanks to Auron and HK for their help and support
Next chapter up soon
And a special thanks to Auron and HK for their help and support Next chapter up soon
STAR WARS: RUPTURE OF THE FORCE.
CHAPTER 1: ARCH TO ENEMY…
Mygeeto.
Why here?
The air shone with a glow of shimmering silver light, small folds in the empty atmosphere, like a flag in the wind. The effect was only given off due to the reflected light shining off the air molecules and the high concentration of ozone in the air from exploded power cables and the rounds that had been fired over and over through the cold, icy planet, but in a way, he supposed that it could be beautiful. Somebody could take a picture of this and tourists would come here on all fours, until they smelled the stench and caught sight of the ruined military equipment that lay discarded along railways and bridges.
Still, though, a person could look at the sky here for hours. It was captivating, to say the least. A marvel of the universe. From first glance the scenery was breathtaking. Snow covered mountains loomed over everything yet didn’t stop the light from shining. Mygeeto was arctic white, and usually the glare would hurt a humanoid’s sensitive eyes. Night, though, was the time for true beauty, with the three luminous moons shining bright over the white tundra.
Of course, even if he had to choose, he would have left Mygeeto for the sole fact that it had been ravaged by the war between the Separatists and the Republic. The smell of burnt machinery and ravaged bodies hadn’t seemed to have left, even though the two sides had. It was a stench that would probably remain for an eternity. Many clones had died—but why should the Republic care, anyway? He thought. They’re just mindless slaves, anyway. They never got to live—and among the fallen was Jedi General Ki-Adi-Mundi. The official reports had said that he had tried to sabotage the fleet, but he knew better. He still respected the Jedi, somewhat. Ki-Adi-Mundi hadn’t deserved his fate.
Or maybe he had. He had trusted the faceless troops, anyway.
A sharp, howling wind bit through him. His breath made mist appear. He wiped his running nose before the mucus dried above his upper lip, which was a sure thing to happen among this freezing, desolate planet.
The wind seemed to chime a chilling symphony of those souls lost and forgotten and the breathtaking scenery that had once been beautiful was now stained with the wreckage of droids and ships from both sides. He even saw the remains of a droideka, charred and obviously not active, at the foot of the bridge connecting the abandoned spaceport to the housing units, which was also riddled with blasterfire.
Cold seemed to just be hating him today. He coughed into his hands, pressing his face against the hand-warmer he had brought with him, just out of common sense. The pollution of the planet—both incidental and accidental—had weakened certain atmospheres, making the planet almost as frigid as hot ice.
It was a no-man’s land, alright. Even the natives of the planet had trouble adjusting, running their heaters to maximum, trying to pick up the damage.
He entertained a thought of the Empire sending out ships to pick up the damage, but pushed it down. No, the Empire would not. They’d leave the wreckage for some other weak underling to pick up for them. We can’t spare the resources, they would say. We’re too busy hunting Jedi and destroying families. Still, the pay was good.
Mygeeto. The place one would die if one went an hour without a form of heat.
Mygeeto. With the most beautiful skies the galaxy had ever seen.
Mygeeto. A war-zone. A wasteland.
Just another grave of the Jedi and the whole stupid war.
The question had to be asked again. Why here?
Why?
Why would the Rebels stop here? What was so important?
He gradually browsed for possible reasons within his own mind. Then it hit him like a stampeding Bantha. Evidence. They wanted evidence of the crimes of the Empire. There wasn’t much chance of them finding any though. Maybe against the CIS but they were long gone, and besides, the Republic had gone to war as well. They were just as much to blame as anyone. Still they had been manipulated, by Palpatine.
He couldn't blame the Rebels for wanting evidence. For wanting revenge.
A sardonic thought came to mind. I'd need information if I was them. I'd want to kill the Empire!
The sound of the icy snow crunching as he walked came to an abrupt halt. He looked up. There it was.
The Mandalorian Arch.
Long ago in the time of Revan and the Sith, the Mandalorians had an outpost on nearly every planet, even ones as desolate and barren as Mygeeto. Some more so.
But he wasn’t here to find Mandalorians. Just like the war they were long gone. He was here to find Han Solo. The Rebels. The enemy.
In the distance he saw the Millennium Falcon and a number of other ships.
“Gotcha!”
He flipped on his comm. “Lord Vader, this is Byson Marx. I’ve found them.”
CHAPTER 1: ARCH TO ENEMY…
Mygeeto.
Why here?
The air shone with a glow of shimmering silver light, small folds in the empty atmosphere, like a flag in the wind. The effect was only given off due to the reflected light shining off the air molecules and the high concentration of ozone in the air from exploded power cables and the rounds that had been fired over and over through the cold, icy planet, but in a way, he supposed that it could be beautiful. Somebody could take a picture of this and tourists would come here on all fours, until they smelled the stench and caught sight of the ruined military equipment that lay discarded along railways and bridges.
Still, though, a person could look at the sky here for hours. It was captivating, to say the least. A marvel of the universe. From first glance the scenery was breathtaking. Snow covered mountains loomed over everything yet didn’t stop the light from shining. Mygeeto was arctic white, and usually the glare would hurt a humanoid’s sensitive eyes. Night, though, was the time for true beauty, with the three luminous moons shining bright over the white tundra.
Of course, even if he had to choose, he would have left Mygeeto for the sole fact that it had been ravaged by the war between the Separatists and the Republic. The smell of burnt machinery and ravaged bodies hadn’t seemed to have left, even though the two sides had. It was a stench that would probably remain for an eternity. Many clones had died—but why should the Republic care, anyway? He thought. They’re just mindless slaves, anyway. They never got to live—and among the fallen was Jedi General Ki-Adi-Mundi. The official reports had said that he had tried to sabotage the fleet, but he knew better. He still respected the Jedi, somewhat. Ki-Adi-Mundi hadn’t deserved his fate.
Or maybe he had. He had trusted the faceless troops, anyway.
A sharp, howling wind bit through him. His breath made mist appear. He wiped his running nose before the mucus dried above his upper lip, which was a sure thing to happen among this freezing, desolate planet.
The wind seemed to chime a chilling symphony of those souls lost and forgotten and the breathtaking scenery that had once been beautiful was now stained with the wreckage of droids and ships from both sides. He even saw the remains of a droideka, charred and obviously not active, at the foot of the bridge connecting the abandoned spaceport to the housing units, which was also riddled with blasterfire.
Cold seemed to just be hating him today. He coughed into his hands, pressing his face against the hand-warmer he had brought with him, just out of common sense. The pollution of the planet—both incidental and accidental—had weakened certain atmospheres, making the planet almost as frigid as hot ice.
It was a no-man’s land, alright. Even the natives of the planet had trouble adjusting, running their heaters to maximum, trying to pick up the damage.
He entertained a thought of the Empire sending out ships to pick up the damage, but pushed it down. No, the Empire would not. They’d leave the wreckage for some other weak underling to pick up for them. We can’t spare the resources, they would say. We’re too busy hunting Jedi and destroying families. Still, the pay was good.
Mygeeto. The place one would die if one went an hour without a form of heat.
Mygeeto. With the most beautiful skies the galaxy had ever seen.
Mygeeto. A war-zone. A wasteland.
Just another grave of the Jedi and the whole stupid war.
The question had to be asked again. Why here?
Why?
Why would the Rebels stop here? What was so important?
He gradually browsed for possible reasons within his own mind. Then it hit him like a stampeding Bantha. Evidence. They wanted evidence of the crimes of the Empire. There wasn’t much chance of them finding any though. Maybe against the CIS but they were long gone, and besides, the Republic had gone to war as well. They were just as much to blame as anyone. Still they had been manipulated, by Palpatine.
He couldn't blame the Rebels for wanting evidence. For wanting revenge.
A sardonic thought came to mind. I'd need information if I was them. I'd want to kill the Empire!
The sound of the icy snow crunching as he walked came to an abrupt halt. He looked up. There it was.
The Mandalorian Arch.
Long ago in the time of Revan and the Sith, the Mandalorians had an outpost on nearly every planet, even ones as desolate and barren as Mygeeto. Some more so.
But he wasn’t here to find Mandalorians. Just like the war they were long gone. He was here to find Han Solo. The Rebels. The enemy.
In the distance he saw the Millennium Falcon and a number of other ships.
“Gotcha!”
He flipped on his comm. “Lord Vader, this is Byson Marx. I’ve found them.”
