AU SW. Fear of Monsters
Posted: 2007-10-04 02:34pm
Working title right now. This is just a small project to get a couple random thoughts out of my head. Will probably be only two installments perhaps three depending on the ending.
Anyway, been a while so I hope you enjoy.
Fear of Monsters
The old man sat at his table trying hard to bury his emotions. A curious mix of rage and crippling grief welled up inside him as the boy he had raised since a newborn struggled against the fate his adopted father decreed.
“Where are you going?” The old man's wife asked as the turbulent child stood from the modest table and turned to storm off.
“Looks like I'm going nowhere.....I have to go finish cleaning those droids.” The young man said with a whine in his voice.
The old man, letting his emotions drain from him, watched his boy go and a new emotion began to consume him. Regret. The poor boy wanted a grand life, a noble adventure and the old man didn't blame him, he himself had had such notions many years ago. The adopted son and the adopted father were not as different as the boy would think. But the old man knew where those noble adventures ended up, and so regretting that he would crush the boys dreams, he vowed to keep the boy safe.
He looked up to see his wifes beautiful blue eyes piercing him, “Owen,” she said, “He can't stay here forever, most of his friends have gone. It means so much to him.”
Beru knew how to be tough for she married a moisture farmer on a dessert world, but her plea was soft and kind and embodied all that Owen Lars loved about her. And yet he could not relent on letting the boy go, if he did he would go right out and find war just like Owen did and suffer the same as the gruff old man did. They were so much alike.
“Well, I'll make it up to him next year. I promise.” The old farmer lied.
His wifes soft face explored her husbands, perhaps sensing the lie, “Luke's just not a farmer, Owen. He has too much of his father in him.”
It was not meant as an insult, but the comment stung Owen Lars to the core. He had always seen so much of himself in the young boy but he had none of the monster in him that the boys father had been. Nor did Luke, or at least Owens prayed the boy didn't. It was one of his greatest fears that the boy would become the monster his father did, and that Owen himself might have some of that insanity in him as well.
“That's what I'm afraid of...” The old farmer trailed off, lost in thought. His mind going back in time almost twenty years to a dark time. A time that created monsters.
One
A swarm of Republic dropships slid into the atmosphere of Androffa, a flight of Jedi fighters protecting the slow ponderous troop shuttles. Little more than converted Corellian cruisers with point defense guns, the dropships fell into the gravity well and the friction upon the atmosphere created hundreds of fireballs. Inside one of the descending shuttles, Corporal Owen Lars sat strapped to his acceleration couch and mentally checked his gear. His dark gray armor, not all that different from the clone shock troops armor except in color, was adjusted and comfortable. His weapon was checked, double checked and checked again. He ticked off in his mind all the various gear he had and remembered if it was ready or not.
Then, being an NCO, turned his attention to his troops. He had eight soldiers he was in charge of, all sitting in a line beside him in their acceleration couches. Two of his troops were brand new, this being their fist combat drop and Cpl. Owen struggled with himself about whether he should have even bothered knowing their names. Chances were they wouldn't survive the day.
Of course that is probably what some other NCO had said about him a three years ago when the Clone War broke out and Owen had survived. No, it was right that he knew their names even if they didn't make it. Nobody remembered the names of the clone shock troopers that fought side by side with the conscript army. They had no names to remember. But his troops had names, they had families and homes. They were not grown to just throw away like the clones, not to offer to the alter of war without cause. He would remember their names.
Static cracked in his helm as his officers relayed orders to him. It was almost time. He turned to the eight soldiers he was in charge of and over the hum of the repulsors, briefed them one last time.
“Thirty seconds!” He yelled out of the open face helmet.
“Small rise to the south upon landing. Our platoons Objective Rally Point is there. Alpha team
on the left, Beta team on the right. Clean dismount this time people.” He ordered.
He looked at the newbies, “Jankar and Shel'mer! Stick close to your teams and for Siths sake keep your heads down and your eyes open.”
He looked over the troops real quick, his gave softening a bit, “We're going in hot.”
Androffa was an ordinary planet in an old space lane. Totally unremarkable except for the various refineries located on it's surface and a few space platforms in orbit that serviced the refineries. The Republic did not need Androffa nor it's refineries, but it was decided that the Republic could not afford to let the Separatists have Androffa.
The Separatists defended the planet and it's refineries with a Corps of Mandalore clone troopers along with droid support. Republic Intelligence had determined that there were very few Separatist free Corps volunteers on the planet. No Bothans, not Neimoidians or Munilist. No sapients, just droids and throw away clones.
But a clone could kill you just as well as a sapient being. Corporal Lars had seen many of his friends and comrades blasted by vat grown humans. The clones might as well be droids, they didn't question orders, they didn't hesitate, they didn't even cry out as they died. An organic droid, cheap and disposable. That was the enemy waiting for them and Owen Lars steeled himself as the whine of the repulor lifts trailed off and the debark ramp dropped to the soft soil of Androffa.
His troops were only a small portion of the two hundred Republic troopers that ran down the ramp. But though they might have been a conscript army, they were also a battle hardened one. Units ran down the ramp and then split into smaller units that ran in different directions towards various objectives. Nobody hesitated or clustered under the deceiving sense of safety under the ship. Too many of the veterans had seen too many people die that way and had drilled their troops not to do it.
Corporal Lar's unit ran under the chin gun of the dropship, it's turbolaser blasts tearing through the brisk air of Androffa. The eight troopers spread out into a loose formation and began a series of bounds towards a small hill that they had been ordered to go to. Four troopers would run a short distance while the rest of the squad would cover them, then they would change places. Standard infantry tactics, Owens bread and blue butter.
The small squad made it to the hill without any enemy contact but Lars knew they were around here some where. Between the large crack of the dropships weapons firing, the Corporal could hear small arms fire in the distance. Some one was shooting at something, just not him at the moment. Two more squads met them at the hill and Lars waited for his orders to be updated. He quickly checked his troops again, thankful that everyone made it thus far and then had a few brief moments to enjoy the sight of four Jedi Fighters landing not far from the hill. The Corporal saw four cloaked figures leap out of their ships and was a bit surprised that two of the legendary warriors seemed to head towards their quite little hill.
Owen Lars had nothing but respect for the Jedi Warriors that lead the clone shock troopers and fought in the bloodiest battles of the war. With their super powers they were moral builder and battle winner for the Republic. That said, Lars had seen what was left of the units that had gone into battle with Jedi. The Corporal thought that the Jedi didn't understand that not everyone had their super powers and that their rush into the thickest part of the battle was little more than suicide for the normal sapients that fought beside them.
Lars had seen whole platoons cut down by enemy fire trying to cover the lone Jedi who was tearing apart the enemy battle lines. The Jedi won battles, but at a horrible cost to the regular troops. Even to the clone troops but Owen didn't think the Republic cared about clone losses, some times Owen thought the Republic didn't care about sapient losses.
The two Jedi who had been sprinting across the battlefield ran up to the Corporal and it seemed they were just finishing a small argument between them as they stopped in front of Lars.
“.....if the reports are true and the leadership is here, we could end the war today. There is much happening on Coruscant and I need to get back there soon.” Said the tall blond Jedi.
“Indeed my young friend. But we must be patient, if they are here they will be heavily protected. It may be a trap. Besides, I don't think it's politics you yearn to return to on Coruscant.” The bearded Master Jedi said, almost scolding the younger Jedi.
“I don't think this is the time for this, Master.” Replied the younger of the two, then turned to Lars.
“Corporal, where is your commander. We have a mission for him.” Jedi Skywalker asked.
Even as Owen Lars pointed out Commander Ellis to the two Jedi, a bad feeling crept up his neck and the soldier shivered as the two warriors moved up the hill. A mission with the Jedi could only spell heavy combat for his platoon, this could only end up badly for the men, women and sentients here even if it meant a victory for the Republic.
Anyway, been a while so I hope you enjoy.
Fear of Monsters
The old man sat at his table trying hard to bury his emotions. A curious mix of rage and crippling grief welled up inside him as the boy he had raised since a newborn struggled against the fate his adopted father decreed.
“Where are you going?” The old man's wife asked as the turbulent child stood from the modest table and turned to storm off.
“Looks like I'm going nowhere.....I have to go finish cleaning those droids.” The young man said with a whine in his voice.
The old man, letting his emotions drain from him, watched his boy go and a new emotion began to consume him. Regret. The poor boy wanted a grand life, a noble adventure and the old man didn't blame him, he himself had had such notions many years ago. The adopted son and the adopted father were not as different as the boy would think. But the old man knew where those noble adventures ended up, and so regretting that he would crush the boys dreams, he vowed to keep the boy safe.
He looked up to see his wifes beautiful blue eyes piercing him, “Owen,” she said, “He can't stay here forever, most of his friends have gone. It means so much to him.”
Beru knew how to be tough for she married a moisture farmer on a dessert world, but her plea was soft and kind and embodied all that Owen Lars loved about her. And yet he could not relent on letting the boy go, if he did he would go right out and find war just like Owen did and suffer the same as the gruff old man did. They were so much alike.
“Well, I'll make it up to him next year. I promise.” The old farmer lied.
His wifes soft face explored her husbands, perhaps sensing the lie, “Luke's just not a farmer, Owen. He has too much of his father in him.”
It was not meant as an insult, but the comment stung Owen Lars to the core. He had always seen so much of himself in the young boy but he had none of the monster in him that the boys father had been. Nor did Luke, or at least Owens prayed the boy didn't. It was one of his greatest fears that the boy would become the monster his father did, and that Owen himself might have some of that insanity in him as well.
“That's what I'm afraid of...” The old farmer trailed off, lost in thought. His mind going back in time almost twenty years to a dark time. A time that created monsters.
One
A swarm of Republic dropships slid into the atmosphere of Androffa, a flight of Jedi fighters protecting the slow ponderous troop shuttles. Little more than converted Corellian cruisers with point defense guns, the dropships fell into the gravity well and the friction upon the atmosphere created hundreds of fireballs. Inside one of the descending shuttles, Corporal Owen Lars sat strapped to his acceleration couch and mentally checked his gear. His dark gray armor, not all that different from the clone shock troops armor except in color, was adjusted and comfortable. His weapon was checked, double checked and checked again. He ticked off in his mind all the various gear he had and remembered if it was ready or not.
Then, being an NCO, turned his attention to his troops. He had eight soldiers he was in charge of, all sitting in a line beside him in their acceleration couches. Two of his troops were brand new, this being their fist combat drop and Cpl. Owen struggled with himself about whether he should have even bothered knowing their names. Chances were they wouldn't survive the day.
Of course that is probably what some other NCO had said about him a three years ago when the Clone War broke out and Owen had survived. No, it was right that he knew their names even if they didn't make it. Nobody remembered the names of the clone shock troopers that fought side by side with the conscript army. They had no names to remember. But his troops had names, they had families and homes. They were not grown to just throw away like the clones, not to offer to the alter of war without cause. He would remember their names.
Static cracked in his helm as his officers relayed orders to him. It was almost time. He turned to the eight soldiers he was in charge of and over the hum of the repulsors, briefed them one last time.
“Thirty seconds!” He yelled out of the open face helmet.
“Small rise to the south upon landing. Our platoons Objective Rally Point is there. Alpha team
on the left, Beta team on the right. Clean dismount this time people.” He ordered.
He looked at the newbies, “Jankar and Shel'mer! Stick close to your teams and for Siths sake keep your heads down and your eyes open.”
He looked over the troops real quick, his gave softening a bit, “We're going in hot.”
Androffa was an ordinary planet in an old space lane. Totally unremarkable except for the various refineries located on it's surface and a few space platforms in orbit that serviced the refineries. The Republic did not need Androffa nor it's refineries, but it was decided that the Republic could not afford to let the Separatists have Androffa.
The Separatists defended the planet and it's refineries with a Corps of Mandalore clone troopers along with droid support. Republic Intelligence had determined that there were very few Separatist free Corps volunteers on the planet. No Bothans, not Neimoidians or Munilist. No sapients, just droids and throw away clones.
But a clone could kill you just as well as a sapient being. Corporal Lars had seen many of his friends and comrades blasted by vat grown humans. The clones might as well be droids, they didn't question orders, they didn't hesitate, they didn't even cry out as they died. An organic droid, cheap and disposable. That was the enemy waiting for them and Owen Lars steeled himself as the whine of the repulor lifts trailed off and the debark ramp dropped to the soft soil of Androffa.
His troops were only a small portion of the two hundred Republic troopers that ran down the ramp. But though they might have been a conscript army, they were also a battle hardened one. Units ran down the ramp and then split into smaller units that ran in different directions towards various objectives. Nobody hesitated or clustered under the deceiving sense of safety under the ship. Too many of the veterans had seen too many people die that way and had drilled their troops not to do it.
Corporal Lar's unit ran under the chin gun of the dropship, it's turbolaser blasts tearing through the brisk air of Androffa. The eight troopers spread out into a loose formation and began a series of bounds towards a small hill that they had been ordered to go to. Four troopers would run a short distance while the rest of the squad would cover them, then they would change places. Standard infantry tactics, Owens bread and blue butter.
The small squad made it to the hill without any enemy contact but Lars knew they were around here some where. Between the large crack of the dropships weapons firing, the Corporal could hear small arms fire in the distance. Some one was shooting at something, just not him at the moment. Two more squads met them at the hill and Lars waited for his orders to be updated. He quickly checked his troops again, thankful that everyone made it thus far and then had a few brief moments to enjoy the sight of four Jedi Fighters landing not far from the hill. The Corporal saw four cloaked figures leap out of their ships and was a bit surprised that two of the legendary warriors seemed to head towards their quite little hill.
Owen Lars had nothing but respect for the Jedi Warriors that lead the clone shock troopers and fought in the bloodiest battles of the war. With their super powers they were moral builder and battle winner for the Republic. That said, Lars had seen what was left of the units that had gone into battle with Jedi. The Corporal thought that the Jedi didn't understand that not everyone had their super powers and that their rush into the thickest part of the battle was little more than suicide for the normal sapients that fought beside them.
Lars had seen whole platoons cut down by enemy fire trying to cover the lone Jedi who was tearing apart the enemy battle lines. The Jedi won battles, but at a horrible cost to the regular troops. Even to the clone troops but Owen didn't think the Republic cared about clone losses, some times Owen thought the Republic didn't care about sapient losses.
The two Jedi who had been sprinting across the battlefield ran up to the Corporal and it seemed they were just finishing a small argument between them as they stopped in front of Lars.
“.....if the reports are true and the leadership is here, we could end the war today. There is much happening on Coruscant and I need to get back there soon.” Said the tall blond Jedi.
“Indeed my young friend. But we must be patient, if they are here they will be heavily protected. It may be a trap. Besides, I don't think it's politics you yearn to return to on Coruscant.” The bearded Master Jedi said, almost scolding the younger Jedi.
“I don't think this is the time for this, Master.” Replied the younger of the two, then turned to Lars.
“Corporal, where is your commander. We have a mission for him.” Jedi Skywalker asked.
Even as Owen Lars pointed out Commander Ellis to the two Jedi, a bad feeling crept up his neck and the soldier shivered as the two warriors moved up the hill. A mission with the Jedi could only spell heavy combat for his platoon, this could only end up badly for the men, women and sentients here even if it meant a victory for the Republic.