Star Wars: The Ancient Force

C H A P T E R . 1 -- Inverse

TEAL MIST AND SMOKE swim in the invisible currents of a sea-green night sky. Embers float within these currents while sparks shoot through them. These sparks burst from a red ship floating down... trailed by smoke. But it wasn't shot down by blaster fire. Like this one, blaster fire bounces off other red ships, but they fall when hit by electromagnetic pulse-bombs shot by Rebellion ships.

The Inverse Sea—the murky teal sky of this moon-sized planet—is filled with dozens of malfunctioning Imperial ships floating to the charcoal soil. Most of the ship's crews await their capture from Rebellion ground troops, but some of the crews rush to their cargo with blasters. When Rebellion troops open the doors to these cargo bays, shots fire from the center of high-pitched screams. Screams of shabby uniformed children. The oldest—preteens—shoot with the Imperial crew, only in confusion and fear of the Rebel enemies; anything to make these strangers stop shooting at their crew's living crying shields: their younger friends held by their hair.

* * *

In the night, among the pitch-black clay of this planet, two specks of flesh seem to float above it in the distance, bobbing towards the red sparks. The specks appear to avoid the chaos of the main shipyard and speed up to reach a private ship away from the Rebellion fleet.

A Rebel scout spots the specks a few meters away, but at the split-second of recognizing them as faces, he's slammed unconscious into a tree by an invisible force. The two faces continue their float through the darkness, unaffected. Red sparks flashing nearby reveal black clothing covering every inch of the face's bodies; one decorative, one simple. Both were dressed for active roles in skirmishes, but more-so the simple one.

Though making good speed, the two harbor no fear or alarm, despite the sounds of death and destruction just beyond the hill. The older one however solemnly contains his anger over leaving his establishment to the Rebel scum.

The simple one speaks with a well-carried female voice, "You're not using your blond pet this time? Or have you still not solved the mysteries of your toy?" adding a hint of good-natured sarcasm.

The decorative one's aged voice replies, "Self-appointed-Darth: Cicatrice (sik-uh-tris), is no longer my ally—self-appointed ally, the pious narcissist. He continues to make attempts at stealing my possessions—including her—to fuel his efforts to take my place as Emperor. Yesterday marked a day of desperate measures, otherwise I would not be employing you to kill him. Before he converts you too, as I'm sure you could be..."

This was the first she had heard of this assignment, but her lack of reaction was as if she already knew. Her silence served as his favorite acknowledgment: servile and aware.

He adds, "And you're no more my toy than I am yours."

Her whole face smiles. She uses a tone as if speaking to a retirement-home resident, "Is that a joke? You old man. Since, when, do, you, joke."

His face winces as if burned by the gleam of her smile, "Blazen."

Her face quickly returns to the emotionless of before, "Sorry lord. I do it just to piss you off. I figure it helps strengthen your Dark powers."

"We both know you do it for more reasons than that."

* * *

"LANDING SECURE! MOVE IT OUT!" commands a Rebellion captain into his comlink, focusing on the massive cargo bay doors of a Rebellion ship. He lowers his blaster to command surrounding troops, flinging his whole arm with utmost urgency.

With a clunk and hiss, the bay doors open to reveal three men each rolling out a single-manned mini-cannon on wheels fit for rough terrain. Behind them, four armored bodyguards surround Lieutenant Leia Organa storming out to join the battalion. The captain waves his men to hand her and her men red shields they took from local guards. Dozens of them. The stern captain nearly beams with delight. Suddenly, with these shields, thousands of his men will be saved, as will millions of credits in repairs and medics. He couldn't be happier with their new treasures, yet still feels the urgency of danger at hand.