Clan Terakian: A StarWars/Heavy Metal (Taarna) crossover
As the title implies, I have had this story (Originally a fantasy world where the last survivors of a clan by that name marches primarily to end their long servitude) kicking around in my head for longer than most of you have been alive.
You have stories of clans bound to serve as guardians for people, in fact the primary reason I loved the Taarna segment of Heavy Metal was that a warrior, the last of her race and clan still goes off to fulfill the pact her ancestors made, even unto death.
But my story is a bit darker. By moving it into the Star Wars Universe, I came up with this...
2000 years BBY:
Riyal, crown prince of Naboo paced down the hall toward the Residence. He saw the guards standing every five meters along his walk.
Guarding my father against what? he thought. An absolute monarch afraid of his own people. Needing these mercenaries to protect his life.
He stopped at the door, the two guards stiff, yet watchful. As he approached to less than ten meters, they stiffened even further, hands dropping to the sub-machine guns at their sides. If he had approached another two meters they would have killed him even as they identified him. So sorry, Your Highness, your son violated the perimeter you set and was terminated.
“Yes, my lord?” The senior asked.
“My father sent for me.” He replied. The soldier touched the communicator stud on his wrist, and his lips moved as he spoke sub vocally. Then he snapped to attention, and the door behind him opened.
Riyal passed them. The Sitting room of the residence was huge. He considered that an extended family of fifteen would have enjoyed that much space. all of this just to have a place to show off in. His father was busy at the desk, just about the size of the cargo bay of a plane. It was big enough to be a bedroom for that huge family. He stopped before the desk, ignored. He waited; his father liked his little power plays, and even his own son had to deal with that.
Miraz, King Imperial of Naboo looked up. “Casaway has demanded that we surrender our world to them.”
Riyal stared at him. “What can we do, Father? We have no army; we are a peaceful people.”
“You will get the army for us. The Terakian Clan of Manda'lor.”
Riyal shook his head. “The Terakian are a myth, father. No one has seen them since before you were born.”
“They exist. They have not been called since my grandfather's time, but they still obey the pact. With them to defend, we are invincible.”
Riyal mentally shook his head. His father was expecting a childhood story to save them! Could their own people not do this? Even as he asked the question, he had to answer it himself.
The Terakian had protected his world for eight generations, had fought and died so that Naboo could live in peace; ever since the Sith had blasted their way into the Republic, and been beaten back. But eight generations of peace were no preparation for war and an invasion. As much as he hated the logic, his father was correct.
“How do I contact them?” He asked.
“You will take your scout and go to Concordia, the moon of Manda'lor. When you arrive, you will use this program.” He handed across a chip. “They have separated themselves from their people because of the pact. When they receive the message, they will guide you down. You must show them this.” The king took off his ring, and held it up. “When they ask, you will do this.” he twisted the red stone inset into it, and the stone lifted. Beneath the stone was another chip.
“Three generations ago, Sogan the Usurper made a duplicate of this ring and went to call the Terakian. His brother, the true heir took the true ring to also gather their support, but half of the clan as the pact calls for had already been sent to usurp the throne.
“He was adamant, and the remainder of the clan left to fight their own. After the fighting ended, the Terakian inserted this chip in the true ring. We don't know what it holds, the heir, my grandfather was told that any attempt to read it or duplicate it would destroy the chip, and void the pact.” He handed it to his son. “Go, bring them.”
“At once, father.” Riyal took the ring, closing his hand over it.