"Document 1" (Unnamed story)
Well, heres what I do when Im bored... I write...
Got a bit addicted to this storyline... And yes, its supposed to be confusing. Im introducing alot of characters at the same time, this so I can write with the one I feel like for the moment.
The suns gazed down onto the planets sand covered surface. In the distance, a flock of dewbacks slowly made their way trough the planets seemingly endless desert. In front of the man, a temple stood, worn down by centuries of storms and sun. Inside the temple, darkness ruled, but was cut off by the immense lights from the suns at the gate, which had been destroyed many years before. The sandstorm would soon reach him, he had to do this thing fast, he didn’t want to be stranded here longer than necessary.
He walked into the temple and felt the darkness surround him.
“I knew they would send you Iso”
The voice was calm and quiet, far too quiet to make Iso sure about the outcome of this “meeting”
“Its never too late, you can still….”
A short cackling interrupted Iso
“If they thought I could return they would never have sent you Iso”
Laughter came out of the darkness, followed by a lightsabers humming
“Come, face me”
Iso lit his lightsaber, looking at its well-known orange blade. The lightsaber, which had saved his life so many time in the past, and ended even more.
“You don’t have to do this”
“Oh, but I want to”
Iso nearly had time to see the red blade erupt from the darkness, he managed to block it and then turned around to face his attacker, but nothing came.
“Iso, Iso… I was always told you were the greatest swordsman living now… And what do I see? An old man, barely strong enough to wear the title Jedi”
The last word was spat out with immense anger and another swift attack followed it. Iso dodged away and quickly located his target, who walked away, further into the temple
“Come old man, come and dance with me”
Iso ran after the voice, until he came into a large room, faintly lit by a small air hole in the ceiling, about thirty meters over him. In the middle of the room, Iso was surprised to see a pool, filled with dirty water, around him lay shattered pieces of statues and other objects.
From behind one of these statues, his opponent slowly rose
“Take a good look at this room old man, it’s the last one you will ever visit”
Iso stared into the mans eyes and knew instantly that he was right.
“So be it”
He put his saber into a defensive position and nodded at the dark jedi. His opponent walked out from behind the statue and relit his saber. For a few seconds they stood between each other, light and dark in a battle with an outcome that would determine fate of so many.
The attack came from his right side, and Iso sent out his lightsaber too slow, and felt the saber cut trough his right knee.
“Far too easy”
Iso looked up and saw the red blade rush towards his face.
Quiet, not a sound.
This is why Shade loved the empty space. Nothing but him and the big dark galaxy.
Before him, the planet of Dantooine filled up most of the window. Time to sell the cargo of weapons and then return back to Tatooine to sell some water.
“The life of a trader…”
Shade mumbled the words to himself before turning around the pilot chair and looked over his ships interior.
“Shade, why oh why are you talking to yourself again?”
Out of a room, the ageing Ganliss walked out, followed by J-39L, the droid who Shade himself had built many years ago.
“Always, it beats talking to Nat’me anyway, they day she smiles is the day I sell J-39L”
“Oh, selling me master?”
J-39L looked over Shade with his eyelike sensor. Made by different bits and pieces, the droid had a few circuits misplaced, which made it much more positive than intended. An annoyance when they were in a tight situation.
Ganliss smirked at Shade, he knew his daughter loathed all men, especially the kind that she thought was worthless, like pilots or as Shade, just another man who had found his way through life the hard way.
“You should watch your tongue Shade, Nat’me sleeps lightly, and her hearing is far better than you expect”
Shade shrugged and turned around again, to see that Dantooine had come even closer. Now he saw the colony on which they would land at.
Yes, the life of a trader, Shade thought to himself while he yawned at the pink planet.
“RK-379, why aren’t you at your post?”
RK-379 sighed under his helmet, he couldn’t leave his post for two minutes without having his superior nag at him
“Sorry TK-864, I was checking out that disturbance over there”
RK-379 nodded at a small crowd who was shouting about some speeder belonging to one or the other.
RK-379 looked at his sergeant and then back at the crowd
“Well, nothing unusual Sir, some payment not switching owners fast enough it seems.” He soon added: “Do you want me to check it out Sir?”
TK-864 shook his head at RK-379.
“Let them solve their own problems RK-379, go back to your post corporal.”
He turned to the group of soldiers behind him. “Move out!”
RK-379 watched the squad walk off before turning back to the people who shouted about the speeder. Why was he posted on Tatooine of all places? This planet was as dust ball in all ways possible.
The desert was before him, its endless dunes stretching everywhere he could see. Zamar turned down his head looking at the nearly finished jacket. It had to be finished by tomorrow or he wouldn’t get paid for the huge order the client wanted. And without the payment, he wouldn’t afford to pay maintenance on his house, and without his house he would be back to square 1.
The cool desert evening was the perfect time to work on, especially since no one would bother him since tonight was the night everyone went out to party.
Like I did when I was young
Zamar pushed away the voice, made it and his memories to leave him alone, for the time being.
He cleared his head of thoughts, something he had learnt a long time ago and continued to work on the jacket.
The wind made his thick, untidy brown hair fall down over his face from time to time. He was used to it, in his void he kept on working. After the jacket he would pack the order up and get some sleep before tomorrow.
“For the last time, where is he?”
Polk felt the gun press even tighter to his head, something he would have thought impossible by now. He would need to be put in a bacta tank after this…
If I ever get out of this alive that is…
Polk tried to talk as clearly as possible, but his cheekbones were so beaten up it was a miracle he even could make himself understandable.
“That’s it, your dead pal”
Polk tried to see through the sore eyes, he was sure he was blind on the left one, and the right one had received far too many hits for his liking…
How long have I even been here?
“Look at the guy, you really think he would be lying up to this point?”
“We know he got the information!”
Something moved in his eyesight and he could recognize the uniform of The Empires interrogators. Everyone knew what the green and blue uniform meant, and people were as scared of them as of the Soldiers.
He heard someone sigh and then say with a resigned voice:
“Take him down and then…move on to C7”
Polk would have jumped in his seat if he still had possessed the strength. He had been on “programme” C2 until this point. He had heard of people surviving as much as J2, and some said that a few people actually had witnessed P8. He shuddered of the mere thought what Z9 had in store.
He felt himself being pulled out from his seat and thrown over someone’s shoulder. After days, weeks, months, years he was as thin as any diet promised. Polk felt the needle sink into his leg, and after a few seconds, darkness came over him.
Polk woke up in the coldness of his cell. C7 had been in function for too many days, he barely remembered anything from the pain. He was Polk and he was born on…
Great, I cant remember where I was born
Then he remembered that he never had known where he had been born and calmed down.
Would he be killed or released? He would never give the interrogators information since he had none to give them.
The door to his cell suddenly opened and a Stormtrooper walked in, grabbed him and dragged him out and then down the corridor.
Before he knew it, he was thrown into a corner. He felt how a wound over the right eye started bleeding again and soon he had to blink to get the blood out of his eyes.
He laid in the uncomfortable position for what seemed to be an eternity, before he heard the door open and the sound of feet walking in.
"Subject B-1-C7-KPLK... Reason for detaining...."
Mumbling, and Polk tried to raise from the ground, but as he moved his left hand, the neck started burning like fire. He dropped the hand to the ground with a tiny shriek.
"So, been here eight standard months...And hasnt given any false names?"
"No Sir, thats why we still have him here..."
Polk tried to think.. False names? Lying would have gotten him out of this place?
"Any sign of braindamage?"
"No Sir, he can probably understand everything we talk about and he is completly aware of his surroundings."
Then there wasnt a sound made, if you didnt count the slow breathing of at least two troopers.
"Dump him...Grade C"
Polk found himself being dragged out of the cell... He didnt care where.
The soldier carrying him stared down at his burden as it made weezing sounds, almost sounding like laughter
hehe.. is it that bad? feedback would be appreciated.. like language and stuff :p
Well, not many people around here these days. I think it isn't bad, not not at all. You've got talent, man!
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