Good Night and Good Luck

Many thanks to those who took in members of the Resistance movement. I owe all of you big.

The leaders of many of the individual armies still reside on my property, though the place is far less crowded than it used to be. It’s been very inspiring to see so many come forward to fight the Empire, despite all their differences. And with our sheer volume and the myriad powers at our disposal, we could very well deal the Emperor a good fight.

Unless the living corpse has something dastardly up his sleeve…

I try not to think about that tonight as I type. I’m the only one awake in the house tonight – Mom’s going to a movie with her friends, Brandon is on a Scout campout, and almost all the Terran Resistance leaders have pitched their tents in the pasture. Only Vader, Fett, Dooku, Grievous, Luke, and Yoda are in the house. (Maul would have been too, but he elected to spend the night at Trisha’s place rather than suffer under Mom’s edict that no unmarried couples share a bed in her house.)

Gentle snoring comes from the recliner, where Dooku is sacked out for the night. Likewise Grievous is belting out a snore of his own from his sleeping place atop the piano – they guy likes to snooze in the oddest places. Luke and Fett are sharing Brandon’s room for the night, and Yoda, Tiger, and Shmendrick are curled up together in Shmendrick’s makeshift nest behind the TV. And Vader lies on the couch, oblivious to the world as he takes some well-deserved rest.

I’ve sworn off fanfic until I get an original story written, but tonight my heart’s not in it. Maybe it’s writer’s block. Maybe it’s the excitement of knowing Kevin comes home on Wednesday. Maybe it’s the fact that I have my “Best of Disney” CD turned up too loud.

Or maybe I’m worrying about my friend. For Vader leaves tomorrow to lead the Starfleet of the Terran Resistance against the Imperial Fleet. He’ll drop Fett and our ground forces off at Kamino to do some damage to the cloning and training facilitates there… and then the war officially begins.

I abandon the computer and go to the couch. Vader looks quite ridiculous sprawled out as he is, arms and legs akimbo, a book open facedown across his chest. I remove the book and set it aside, careful to mark his place, then lift the leg that’s hanging down to the floor and lay it back on the couch. I fold his arms across his chest in a slightly more dignified manner. Through it all he sleeps on, too exhausted by the day’s preparations to awaken.

It’s been about a year – give or take a week or two – since I first encountered Vader in front of the theater in my hometown and agreed to take him home with me. A year of keeping company with the Dark Lord. A year of weird and fantastic guests of all kinds. A year of lunacy and joy and tears and craziness galore. And while it hasn’t been all fun and games, it has been a blessing in my life.

What a year. And what an experience. Last year I would never have fathomed that I would be sharing living space with a Sith, coming face-to-face with my favorite Tatooine farmboy, waking up to General Grievous in my bedroom at 2 A.M., bashing Prince Xizor in the head with a frying pan, wrangling an assassin droid in a bookstore, attending Dumbledore’s funeral, mouthing off to the heads of both Rebellion and Empire, torquing off said leaders, taking a whirlwind tour of the galaxy, and ultimately aiding and abetting a Resistance against the most sadistic and tyrannical monster to have ever been spawned.

And I have this man to thank.

I have always loved Vader, but for years that love was directed at a fictional man. Now that I have had a chance to know, become acquainted with, lock horns with, and eventually befriend the real thing, I can honestly say that I still love him. Not romantic love, but the love that exists between friends. Yes, friends. I feel I can truly call him that.

Vader has helped me put my own life into perspective – after all, compared to what he has been through, my life is a cakewalk. He has freely loaned me a listening ear, a helping hand, and a shoulder to cry on. He has shown me a greater and more glorious galaxy beyond my backwater Idaho hometown than I could have possibly imagined. And if anything were to happen to him during this battle, it would break something in me that would never entirely heal.

Feeling a little protective, I snitch a blanket from my mom’s room and cover the sleeping Dark Lord with it.

Then I return to the computer, the music of Disney’s “The Fox and the Hound” playing an appropriate song:

When you’re the best of friends
Having so much fun together
You’re not even aware
You’re such a funny pair
You’re the best of friends

Life’s a happy game
You can clown around forever
Neither one of you sees
Your nat’ral boundaries
Life’s one happy game

If only the world wouldn’t get in the way
If only people would just let you play
They say you’re both being fools
You’re breaking all the rules
They can’t understand
The magic of your wonderland

When you’re the best of friends
Sharing all that you discover
When these moments have passed
Will that friendship last?
Who can say
There’s a way
Oh I hope, I hope it never ends
‘Cause you’re the best of friends…

May God and the Force be with all who go off to fight tomorrow. I will pray for you all.

*”Best of Friends” is owned by Disney, not me

Under the Tusken Sun

Thank you everyone who responded to the call for battle. I truly feel that we finally stand a chance against the Empire’s might. It’s amazing how many beings, be they heroes or scoundrels, will come forward to aid those in need. And even though I can’t pick three-quarters of these people out of a lineup, I am still grateful to them.

It does make for an insane amount of extra work at this end, however.

“Okay, let’s go over this one more time,” I moan. “Which of your armies started the mud fight?”

The five beings standing before me – a stormtrooper, an elf, a living suit of armor, a lion, and an oversized transforming robot – begin talking at once.

“The alchemist started it…”

“It was the bloody mini-cons, you liar!”

“They were protecting themselves against the centaurs…”

“The centaurs were merely defending themselves against the elves…”

“Can’t you control your own men…”

“Fourteen injuries sustained in the 460th alone, who’s going to…”

“Okay, never mind, I don’t care who started it,” I interrupt. “Each of you get a task force from your own army to mop up the mess, okay? And please TRY to be a little civil with each other, okay?”

They exchange unsure and irritated looks with one another before stalking off.

Vader watches them go. “I’ve heard Aslan’s voice before, but where?”

“Let’s just say Liam Neeson gets around,” I tell him. “So what’s the plan now that we got an army gathered?”

“Tonight, a meeting of our leaders is in order,” he replies. “We must discuss tactics and strategies for our first strike against the Empire.”

“Going for an attack on Corusant?”

“Not right away. First is the Imperial Starfleet itself. It is currently stationed near an unnamed system ten parsecs from Earth. We must strike at it and weaken it before it mobilizes to attack us. After that… we plan from there.”

“Um… a lot of our volunteers come from worlds without space travel – or space combat, for that matter. What do THEY do while the warships go out?”

“Excellent point.” He considers. “Perhaps we should see how much damage we can do to the cloning facilities on Kamino and the Imperial Academy on Almania…”

A dragon bugles as a starship, escorted by a squadron of X-wings and A-wings, screams overhead. Guns, cannons, wands, and other weapons are aimed skyward as the ships circle for a landing spot.

“Who’s that?” demands Grievous, squinting skyward.

General Drache jogs out of the house. “Sir, Princess Leia Organa requests permission to land. She brings Rogue Squadron and other allies.”

“Other allies?” I repeat.

“Allow them to land,” Vader replies, gesturing to the north field. “Bring Princess Leia before me.”

“Yes sir.” She strides away.

I sigh. “This was very lousy timing, you know.”

“Her arrival, or the Resistance?”

“The Resistance. I’m supposed to be getting the family room cleaned up so we can split it off and make a spare bedroom, not organizing a revolution.”

“Spare room?” He glowers. “I was under the impression that I was your only long-term guest.”

“Jealous, are you?” I tease.

He continues to glare.

“Haven’t you been paying attention?” I ask him. “Kevin comes home from his mission next week. He’ll be living here while he goes to school, so we need to get him a room of his own.”

Vader nods. “Ah, yes. The oldest of your brothers. I trust he knows about me?”

“Uh-huh. He’ll probably maul you and demand an autograph the minute he sees you. But give it a few weeks, and once the novelty of your presence wears off, you’ll find he’s a pretty cool kid.”

“I look forward to meeting him.”

Drache returns, escorting a woman in white. Leia gives her father a slight nod of the head.

“Lord Vader,” she addresses politely. “And Miss Starflight. Good afternoon.”

“Princess Leia,” he intones, bowing from the waist.

“Hello, your Highness,” I tell her. “Sorry if I don’t bow or curtsey, but I’m such a klutz I’d probably fall on my face if I tried it.”

She smiles slightly. “Don’t worry about it.” She turns back to Vader. “Rogue Squadron and the forces aboard my shuttle are at your disposal, Lord Vader.”

Vader is silent a moment. “This is a change of tune, Princess. A mere two months ago you would have nothing to do with me.”

She speaks quite frankly. “I cannot, and will not, call you father. I’ve undergone too much at your hand for that. But I won’t let my personal feelings regarding you interfere with my desire to aid the galaxy. I have long vowed to see the Empire overthrown – and if the Alliance won’t do it, then I will support a cause that will, even if it is helmed by a Sith.”

“A former Sith,” he corrects. “Not to mention two Jedi and a fan fiction writer.”

“Hey, I’m not in charge here!” I protest. “I’m just donating the property.”

Leia smiles amusedly. “Hopefully you have room for more. My recruits are used to having space to roam.”

My gaze moves to the shuttle. Stormtroopers are escorting Leia’s volunteers out – Rogue pilots, of course, but the bulk of these creatures come from two alien races…

“What the heck?”

Vader stiffens. “Why them?”

“Because the Empire is no kinder to them than to any other people in this galaxy,” Leia replies. “Both the Gungans and the Sandpeople have suffered beneath the Emperor’s cruel reign – their lands are overrun, their people are used as target practice, their sacred sites are desecrated…”

“I will NOT have Sandpeople in my army, Princess!”

“He has issues with them,” I tell her. “A tribe of them killed his mom.”

Her expression softens. “I’m sorry to hear that. But these creatures know nothing of that. They only wish to aid you.”

Vader strains so hard to rein in his anger that Leia and I can see him shaking. “Keep them out of my sight,” he snarls at last. “That is all I ask.” And he sweeps away.

I just give Leia a give-him-a-moment-to-cool-off look. Vader may not be the Emperor’s right hand man anymore, but he’s still Vader. And all the recruits and volunteers will do very well to keep that in mind.

So with the additions of the Gungan and Sandpeople armies and Rogue Squadron, our property just got very packed indeed. If anyone would be willing to put up some of the Terran Resistance troops, I’d be very much obliged.

The Reluctant Rebellion

I’d like to take a moment to assure readers of my blog that, at this time, they are in little danger of being targeted by the Empire. I believe the main focus of his attentions will be Idaho, so the rest of the world will generally go ignored. Besides, the Emperor is currently in no condition to be investigating the blog and/or the upcoming website.

According to our good friend Wednesday42, who is currently housing a stormtrooper who maintains contact with the outside galaxy, she has accessed a Holonet newsfeed detailing an attack on the Imperial Palace – by strange furry critters. Yup, Tribbles have invaded the palace. And not only have they caused untold pandemonium within said palace, they have also managed to somehow knock out the Emperor’s ability to access Earth’s Internet. Thus, all blog activities and any upcoming website are officially off-limits to him for the time being.

*big sigh of relief*

Well, that’s one piece of good news, one I could use badly. Because another project of the Terran Resistance didn’t go so well.

My hometown is now crawling with bizarre beasts, creatures, and what-have-you, so the arrival of a Dark Lord of the Sith and an Earth woman at the local fast-food franchise goes relatively unnoticed – despite the fact that Vader is riding a swoop bike and I’m on the back of a magenta-colored Pegasus, and the fact that our bodyguards are two of the creepiest creatures I’ve ever seen.

“Did you HAVE to ride that… thing?” demands Vader.

“Hey, when I was a kid, My Little Pony was the hottest thing around,” I shoot back, dismounting and patting my steed’s muzzle. “Besides, did you HAVE to bring THOSE guys? Why couldn’t stormtroopers escort us?”

“Because any Imperial ambush we came across would be fully prepared to fight stormtroopers. They are not prepared to fight the Ra’zac, however, which would give them an advantage.”

One of the Ra’zac cackles in a sick raspy voice, his shelled insectoid face a ghastly sight. Ugh, if I’d known these guys would show up and pledge themselves to the Resistance, I would never have invited the “Eragon” crew over.

The four of us enter the restaurant, which currently plays host to a fairly even mix of Idaho natives and Resistance fighters. Two farmers kindly share their table with a pair of alchemists and a masked Phantom, several teenagers laugh hysterically over some joke a League of Temperance vampire cracked, Malfoy and Snape (the only HP wizards to show) engage in a game of wizard’s chess with Eragon, Grievous and Musica bicker over the superiority of lightsabers over bladed weapons, one of the Asgard speaks fondly with Yoda while a nosy kid tries to listen in…

And Lady Mothma of the Rebel Alliance beckons us over to her corner table.

“I took the liberty of ordering for you,” she tells us as an employee brings trays of food over. “But I wasn’t aware that you would be bringing others…” She nods at the Ra’zac, who take on sentry positions by our table.

“Our bodyguards do not take in the same kind of… sustenance that we do, Lady Mothma,” Vader replies, and leaves it at that.

“I see.” She takes a bite of salad while I chomp into my hamburger. Out of the corner of my eye I see Vader touch his chest controls, and the vent in his mask opens. Good, so I was right about how he eats through that thing.

“When the Alliance received word that you were organizing an army, Lord Vader, we feared the worst,” Mothma says carefully.

“The Alliance has nothing to fear,” Vader assures her. “We seek only to overthrow the Empire.”

“I see.” She toys with her salad a bit. “So may I ask why your Resistance has contacted us?”

“We wish to seek an alliance with the Rebellion,” he replies. “We hope to gain your aid in our cause.”

She’s quiet, giving Vader a calculating look. I sip my milkshake, wondering what her next words will be.

“The Empire and the Alliance have reached a truce thanks to the peace talks,” she says at last. “And while much remains to be done, we have managed to restore some of the freedoms we have fought so long to obtain. I do not believe overthrowing the Emperor is the best option at this point. Rather, I think the best course from this point forward is further negotiation.”

“Exactly,” I put in. “Negotiation’s needed – as in ‘aggressive negotiation.’”

Vader glowers at me. “You’re not helping.”

“Excuse me for cracking a joke.”

“Lord Vader, Madame Starflight, the Alliance has come this far in our battle against the Empire. To attempt to overthrow him now, when we have gained his trust and won a pivotal battle, would be madness.”

Vader gives a bitter laugh. “You don’t gain the Emperor’s trust, milady. He trusts none and, in turn, cannot be trusted. He lets the galaxy have a few basic freedoms again because he knows it is a small price to pay for continued domination of the Empire. He lets the Alliance believe the war has come to a pause and they have nothing to fear because it suits his interests.”

He leans over the table, and his already ominous voice takes on a deadly tone. “Don’t you see, Lady Mothma? He’s letting you grow complacent, letting you believe that the war is ending and any further changes can be made through negotiation. He has you right where he wants you – growing sluggish and fat and comfortable where you are that he may crush you at leisure.”

“That’s pure speculation,” she retorts.

“Come on, since when has the Emperor been trustworthy?” I point out.

“Since when have you, Lord Vader, been trustworthy? How do I know this isn’t a plot to see the Alliance destroyed by your own hand?”

Vader’s hands clench. He’s on the verge of throttling somebody. I debate whether to stop him or not – offing Mothma’ll mean someone with a brain in their heads can take charge of the Alliance, but then again, seeking harm upon her will probably alienate some of our Resistance members…

“Then I take it there will be no help from the Alliance?” Vader grates out through a clenched jaw.

“No. We will not fight your Resistance, but neither can we afford to aid it.”

Vader stands and storms off without another word.

“Thanks for paying the tab,” I say grudgingly, and I walk off after him, the Ra’zac close behind.

When we’re at the door of the restaurant, Vader raises his hand in a coded gesture. Not the finger, you sick-minded people. It’s a hand signal only Resistance members know the meaning of. And at that signal…

Mothma jumps in her seat as every Resistance member in the building immediately begins making pretty darn convincing goat noises.

“Well, that was a waste of effort,” Vader snarls.

“At least we tried.”

One of the Ra’zac clacks his jaws eagerly. “You want I sssssshould… eliminate… the woman?”

“No, you can’t eat her,” I tell him. “It’ll blow any chance of us getting ANY Rebels to help us out. Besides, she’d probably upset your stomach.”

Vader shudders, an interesting sight. “Explain to me why Galbatorix joined again?”

“Beats me. Maybe he feels there’s only room for one evil insane dictator in this galaxy.”

“Ah.”

Actually, I think it’s pretty cool that supposed villains are joining us as well as heroes. My mom pointed out the other day that, in a way, it’s a balance to the Force. And since Anakin was prophesied to bring balance to the Force… she says it all works out in the end, and that the Force must be on our side.

Thanks, Mom.

Now if we could only get Leia, Han, and Chewie to get out to Idaho… not to mention some other members of Rogue Squadron…

Rage of the Fanfic Author

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Several individuals have suggested a website dedicated to the Terran Resistance against the Empire. I think it’s a fun idea, but unfortunately I don’t have the time or the knowledge necessary to create such a site (my one semester of high-school Web Page Design mostly alternated between surfing the ‘Net for cool Star Wars sites and banging my head on the keyboard). If someone wants to volunteer to create such a site, they are free to do so. I simply ask that they e-mail me a link so I can post it on the blog, and that the content is kept at least halfway clean.

GGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRR…. His Hideousness has gone too far this time…

The Empire has fired the first shot in our battle – a shot that shall reverberate across the galaxy. Well, actually, no blasters were fired, but you get the idea.

I was in the house trying to explain to my mom why our property had once again been invaded by the most eclectic collection of freaks this side of Tatooine when Brandon burst into the house, tears in his eyes.

“Mom, Kenya, my chickens!” he shrieked.

Mom and I ran for the door, shoving past Maul and his girlfriend in the process, and bolted for the chicken pen. The birds lay in sorry heaps in the dirt, some feebly beating their wings, others ominously still.

Vader lifted the rooster and carefully examined him. “They’re not dead. But it looks as if they’ve been poisoned.”

“Who’d do that to his chickens?” Mom demanded. “Who would be so cruel…”

Fett emerged from the barn, dragging the tub of feed grain with him. He set it down in front of Mom, opened it, and scooped out a handful.

“Smell this,” he advised.

I took a whiff. It smelled dusty… with a noxious taint like nail polish remover.

“Have you tested it?” Vader asked.

Fett nodded. “I’ve identified the chemical and am sure of the antidote. The question is if we want to use it on livestock when it’s possible the Emperor has contaminated the household food stores as well…”

“Treat the animals,” Vader ordered. “If we exhaust our supply, I know where to get more.”

My stomach suddenly seemed to plunge to my ankles. “Cocoa!”

Sure enough, when I got to the goat pen, Cocoa was so sick he couldn’t even stand. I held his head in my lap and soothed him while Fett straddled him and injected the antidote. To be on the safe side, we dosed Frosty (the other goat) as well, even though she showed no symptoms yet.

Grievous poked his head out of the barn. “The hay’s contaminated. And judging by the levels of poison, he soaked it in the stuff.”

Mom looked pained. Hay is expensive, and to have to replace our entire store would take a hefty chunk of money.

“We will reimburse you for the damaged hay,” Vader assured her. “This is our fault anyhow. We should have kept a closer guard on the property.”

“Um…” A thought just occurred to me. “If he’s drugged the chicken and goat feed, do you think he might have… you know…”

Vader turned to General Drache. “Take a toxin kit into the house. I want every food product checked for tampering.”

“Even the cat food?” she asked.

“Especially that. And if you can catch Tiger, administer the antidote to be on the safe side.”

“Oh, he’ll love you for that,” I said sarcastically, picking up a hen and holding her out for Fett to dose. “What about Shmendrick?”

Fett snorted. “The dragon drinks motor oil, for the Force’s sake. What can poison him?”

Thankfully, no animals died. But the crisis has served to teach us further caution… and to indicate that, thus far, the Emperor does not yet consider the resistance to be a serious threat to the Empire. At least, not serious enough to warrant sending the entire Fleet out to wipe Idaho off the map.

He’ll learn his lesson. Judging by the number of other so-called “fictional” worlds that have come to the Resistance’s aid in the past few days, the Emperor has pretty much managed to annoy and offend the entire known universe.

Aid has come from many unusual sources, ranging from the Varden forces of “Eragon” to the Andalites of “Animorphs,” from Haru Glory the Rave Master to Erik the Phantom, from “Full Metal Alchemist” to “Stargate,” from the Highlander world to the most unexpected allies of all… the crew of the starship Enterprise. (Sadly, the Ministry of Magic is unable to chip in, being too wrapped up in a war with their own Dark Lord… and dang it all if those contrary Dragonriders of Pern refused to get involved… grrrr, last time I read your books…)

Palpatine, I don’t care if you’re reading this anymore. You’ve hit below the belt this time. You’re not getting away with this.

You will pay, Darth Sidious.

You WILL pay.

Begun This Sith War Has

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

No wait, that’s not right… um…

A few minutes ago in a farmhouse not that far away…

The founders and leaders of the newly formed Terran Resistance against the Galactic Empire have gathered around the kitchen table in the Starflight residence, some sitting in chairs, others standing or perched on the kitchen counters, all helping themselves to freshly baked cookies as they discuss their strategies and proposals. There are other members, of course – fans in other states and countries who have volunteered their services via the Internet (thanks for all your support!), stormtroopers still loyal to Vader, Rebels who have lost faith in Mothma’s leadership and have elected to support our insurgent cell, fanatics who came for the peace talks but for some reason have decided to stay on – but the house isn’t big enough to hold them all.

Besides, even though most of the neighbors aren’t big fans, they’re still giving the property suspicious looks. I wonder if whatever Force trick making these guys invisible to non-fans is beginning to wear off.

Darth Vader sits at the head of the table, as intimidating and regal as ever despite his renunciation of his post in the Empire. Yes, he has elected to forfeit his former standing in the Empire rather than leave the planet. He’s put up with his master’s machinations for years and years, and frankly, he’s had it. The Emperor’s going to find out just what happens when you torque off the Chosen One once too many.

Luke Skywalker sits at his father’s right hand, smiling broadly. This is what he’s been waiting for – his father has abandoned the Empire. True, he hasn’t fully renounced the dark side, but in Luke’s eyes this is at least a step in the right direction. And though Luke still fully supports the Rebellion, he also seeks to aid our resistance in any way he can.

I’m on Vader’s other side, trusty writing notebook at the ready. At the moment my role in the proceedings is reduced to taking notes, but I have a nasty feeling Vader’s going to expect me to come up with some creative plots for taking out the Emperor. Like what, throw a Sheep Bomb at him a la “Stag and the Dragon?” Shove him into a convenient forget-whorl a la “Centaur of Attention?” Sic a five-year-old smart-mouth on him a la “Eye of the Storm?” Lock him in an exploding fortress a la “Reborn?” Fanfics are one thing, real life is something else altogether.

Jedi Master Yoda sits across the table from Vader, a stack of my mom’s medical textbooks under him to boost him up to eye level. When Luke first dragged him to Earth claiming Vader had changed and would help the Jedi overthrow the Empire, the dwarf was skeptical. And Vader was far less than pleased to find that “the speech-impeded decrepit troll” would be on our side (don’t look at me, that’s Darth’s own words, people). But now it seems the two have called a sort of truce, even if it only lasts until the fight ends.

Boba Fett stands in front of the stove, completely at ease. He’s worked by Vader’s side long enough to be called Vader’s right hand man, and while he won’t go so far as to claim loyalty to the man, he has a healthy respect for Vader and considers him an honorable ally. Besides, Vader’s power may be gone, but his wealth remains. Fett can be assured of a fat paycheck if he sticks around to see this uprising through.

Darth Maul and Count Dooku wear expressions of glee as they join us, Dooku sitting at the table between myself and Yoda and Maul having a seat on the kitchen counter. Don’t ask my why these guys are back from the dead, I have yet to figure that out. All I know is that they’re plenty mad at the Emperor for betraying them. And rather than being angry with Vader for displacing them, they’ve instead chosen to help him gain revenge upon the insane dictator.

But Maul fights for another purpose as well… and that purpose sits right next to him on the counter and gives him a quick peck on the tattooed cheek. Yup, the ol’ Zabrak was bitten by the love bug, and a cute one to boot. Her name’s Trisha, and she’s a Northwest Nazarene University graduate and a longtime Star Wars fan, one of the attendees who decided to hang out on our property past the closing of the peace talks. A nicely tanned, dark-haired, slender girl whose choice of attire is either jeans and a Star Wars villain T-shirt or a Rogue pilot jumpsuit, she’s hopelessly enamored with Maul and has stated firmly that she will fight to the death by his side if need be. And Maul will defend her to the death if the need arises.

General Grievous is crouched on top of the refrigerator (don’t ask me why) and glaring balefully down at us like some skeletal vulture. Don’t worry, Telpy, I’m sure you’ll get him back in one piece, he’s a toughie. And yes, he has a bone to pick with the Emperor too for ordering the slaughter of the CIS council for what he deems “no apparent reason.” Apparently people are FINALLY catching on that the Emperor took advantage of the entire galaxy and that they were stupid enough to let him.

Mom is gone this evening, and Brandon is in bed. Luckily, we can count on their support for this as well. The Emperor gives my mom the creeps, and Brandon will do anything to alter the tragic ending to ROTJ, even join the Terran Resistance. But their role, I’m afraid, will be extremely limited. I don’t want to see my family hurt by this any more than they need to be.

Finally, the creepiest member (in my opinion) of the Terran Resistance enters the room and hands Vader a datapad. Her name is Drache, and she’s the general of Darth Vader’s personal battalion of troops, the Fighting 501st. A cunning fighter and excellent strategist, she nonetheless gives me the chills every time I see her. Namely because she’s one of the clones of myself Darth ordered some time ago. Yeah, those clones. I still can’t get used to seeing my own face standing across the room from me.

Our numbers may be small, but our determination is strong. We will see the end of the Emperor once and for all. We will defend our planet for as long as necessary with all our resources.

And we will seek to gather others to our cause. The US government’s out, they’ve already got a war on their hands… The Harry Potter wizard’s world? The “Stargate” crew? Roseprincess’ live-in crowd? Any other volunteers?

It’s the End of the World As We Know It…

Home at last!

The fields do seem rather empty now that most of the fanatics have raised anchor and departed. A few have stuck around, however, just to see what kind of lunacy will pop up next (how they can afford the twenty-bucks-a-day fees without employment of some kind is a mystery to me). At least the holdouts will make things a little interesting, I guess…

Oh, and I got back to work to find out that the other shelver had quit while I was gone, and I’ll be the only shelver for a week or so until they get a new one hired. Ugh. Darth, where’re those clones of me you ordered?

Unfortunately, another development has occurred that casts a shadow over our house…

I was first aware of this development this weekend, during a family outing to Shoshone Falls near Twin Falls, Idaho. You like Niagara Falls? Shoshone Falls are just as impressive (and about fifty feet higher), and as a bonus they’re not nearly as crowded. It’s an impressive sight and a great place to take the family for a picnic and some climbing of the trails.

We had a fairly large group at the falls that day – Mom and a bunch of her friends, Brandon, myself, Vader, Maul, the Emperor, and Dooku. While my mom and her friends took pictures and laughed and joked, Brandon and Maul explored some of the trails and Dooku took an opportunity to harass the poor suckers at the gift shop. I, meanwhile, minded my own business, watching the falls, the thunder of the water a nice background harmony to the music on my headphones. Hey, John Williams’ music is all-purpose – the “Here They Come” score from “A New Hope” is an oddly fitting accompaniment to the falls.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of black, and I just barely turned my head to see Vader and the Emperor deep in discussion. I turned my music down to catch what I could.

“…cannot control her, then perhaps you should let me deal with it…”

“You said yourself that what she puts on the blog is her business, Master. Besides, I had no idea she would write what she did…”

“If you had been paying closer attentions to her writings, Lord Vader, you would have seen her opinions of the Empire – and of myself. I can forgive her fictitious ramblings, no one reads those…”

Oh, yeah, sure, whatever you say, Freddy Krueger.

“…but when she deliberately slams the Empire in an Internet blog that the entire galaxy has access to, she goes too far.”

“Master, she donated the use of her home for the peace talks. She donated genetic material for the creation of an elite battalion of troops for the Empire’s use. She has unconsciously begun a campaign to discredit the leader of the Rebellion. She has done so much good for the Empire. How can we suddenly call her an enemy?”

Nice of him to defend me in front of his boss, though he grossly exaggerated when he made those claims.

“Allies to the Empire do not turn around and stab them in the back at the first opportunity, Lord Vader. She is no longer an ally to us. You will end your stay on this world and return to Corusant, or you will forfeit your position within the Empire. Have I made myself clear?”

“Perfectly clear, my master.”

“Good. You have a week to make your decision. If you haven’t decided by then, I decide for you… and it will not end well for yourself or your little friend.”

I pretended I didn’t hear a thing as the Emperor stalked past. Once I was sure he was out of earshot, I sidled over to Vader and whispered in the general vicinity of his ear.

“We should have pushed him over the railing. No jury in the galaxy would have convicted us.”

Vader shook his head. “Too messy. We can do better.”

“I was joking.”

“Well, I was being perfectly serious.” He turned to face me, and I swear there was a devilish grin on his face under the mask. “I will infiltrate the Emperor’s computer system tonight and alter his link to your blog. He will think I forced you to shut it down.”

“Then what?”

“Then I gain vengeance for all he has done to me these past twenty years.”

“I still say push him over the falls. Those that do see you do it probably won’t care, nobody likes the Emperor anyway.”

“We will see.” And he swept off.

Well, for those who think nothing exciting ever happens in Idaho, things just got REALLY frightening for my poor unsuspecting hometown. We’ve gone from Nowhereville, Idaho to Sith Master vs. Sith Apprentice War Zone, Idaho practically overnight. This is going to either be way too much fun or a nightmare come true, depending on your point of view. (I’m somewhere in the middle, if you must know.)

My suggestion would be to revise or postpone all planned trips to or through Idaho for the next little while…

Naboo:Jokers Who Make "Sixth Sense" Cracks Will Be Hunted Down...

Happy Cinco de Mayo, readers!

Last post, I forgot to mention where I would be going next. Sorry about that. But this whole trip is pretty loosely planned anyhow, so half the time I don’t know where I’m going next. Then again, that pretty much explains my whole life…

I didn’t think Darth would want to accompany me to Naboo. Too many memories. But he insisted on coming, so here we are. Still a beautiful planet, despite it being under tight Imperial control. Dang it, and I’d hoped to see a Gungan here. After repelling the Trade Federation all those years ago the Gungans and Naboo had established a kind of truce, but now they refuse to have anything to do with the Empire. Not sure I blame them much, either.

Yes, I got to tour the palace and visit the lake country. But I don’t remember much of it, truth be told. For one stop on our tour is burned forever in my memory…

Padme’s grave.

Evidently a lot went on when I was on Tatooine – including Vader caving in and finally watching “Revenge of the Sith” with my mom. From what she told me via e-mail, an emotional Sith is not a pretty sight. But at least one good thing came of it – he decided to come back to Naboo and seek some closure.

“She deserved better than me,” he murmurs, kneeling before the headstone.

“Come on, she loved you,” I tell him, kneeling beside him. “And I believe she never stopped loving you… even at the end. Her last words were proof enough.”

He lowers his head. “I killed her, Kenya. I joined the dark side to save her life… and instead I destroyed her. What kind of a monster am I?”

I squirm on my knees. I tend to get pretty uncomfortable when things get mushy. It’s not that I’m insensitive; it’s just that half the time I don’t know how to react. And when the person getting emotional is a Dark Lord of the Sith who I’ve never before seen get emotional – either on screen or in person – it’s a bit awkward.

“Vader…” I have no idea what to say, but I go forth bravely anyhow. “I don’t agree with a lot of what you did… but in my mind, it doesn’t make you a monster. It makes you human.”

He chokes out a sarcastic laugh. “Human?”

“Yes, human.” I start sliding into one of my spiels that should be familiar to any who have read my fanfics. “Humans are dense. They make mistakes, fall down, get themselves stuck in corners. They’re not perfect, and all the better for that, because if everyone was perfect the world would be boring. And above all, humans FEEL. They use their hearts as well as their heads. If you didn’t feel like a jerk for what you’ve done as a Sith, yeah, you’d be a monster and I’d scratch you from my Favorite Character list. You’re human, Vader. Far more human than a lot of idiots I’ve had the misfortune to know.”

He doesn’t reply, so I go on with my spiel – you don’t stop me on this subject, I can go on for hours. “That’s my problem with the old Jedi Order, you know. They forgot how to feel. They forgot that they were human, that they weren’t above screwing things up. They forgot they were only human.”

He laughs a little. “Only you would have the guts to talk about the Jedi Order in such a fashion.”

“Hey, there are plenty of others on my planet that feel the same way,” I retort.

He places a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you, Kenya. Your words have been a great help.” He stands slowly. “We had best go…”

“Give me a sec,” I tell him. “Pictures, you know.”

He nods and leaves.

I turn back to the grave. Truth be told, I’m not about to snap a pic of a tombstone. I just wanted Darth out of the way so I could have a frank discussion…

“Padme,” I begin, feeling pretty silly, “I dunno if you can hear me… but if you can, I guess I should introduce myself. My name’s Kenya Starflight. I wanted to talk to you about Vader. Though I guess you know him by Anakin, don’t you…

“Um, don’t worry about us. There’s nothing romantic between us. He’s still deeply in love with you, trust me. We’re pretty good friends, but it stops there.

“I just wanted to say… wherever you are… don’t judge him too harshly. Yes, he made some dumb choices. Don’t we all? But some of the blame also lies with Palpatine for playing him for a fool all this time. Or maybe you already knew that.”

This is awkward, and I probably look insane or drunk, but I go on all the same. “He’s still a decent guy, Padme. Just as you said all that time ago. There’s good in him. It just needs drawing out.”

I get back on my feet. “Gotta go. And… um… may the Force be with you.”

I turn to leave the clearing – and promptly smack my head against a branch that I swear wasn’t there before. Force Almighty, that HURTS!

Take care of Anakin, and tell him I forgive him.

Was that my pain-addled brain talking, or something else?

***

I would really like to keep traveling the galaxy, but I really have a life to be getting back to on the third rock from the sun. (Really, I do.) I may come back and hit a few more planets later, though.

So tomorrow I return to Roadkill, Idaho to resume my job, my writing, and all that jazz. Wonder how things have been going back home…

Kamino: Here Comes That Rainy-Day Feeling Again

To begin with, I found a cool Star Wars personality test online. So readers – which character’s personality do you share? Mine’s Artoo Detoo.

Oh, and Wednesday, good ol’ TK-817 hopes you enjoyed the photo. He’s now in hiding…

Well, yesterday was my birthday, for all who care to know – twenty-third, to be exact. And what better way to celebrate it than on a perpetually stormy planet surrounded by clones who won’t stop harping on me for autographs and accompanied by the Masked Marvels and a pyromaniac dragon who seems bound and determined to burn Tipoca City to the ground despite its dampness? (Yes, I’m being a mite sarcastic here.)

I do like the rain, don’t get me wrong. I’m one of those types who enjoys taking a walk in a downpour, so long as it’s not too cold. But when it just NEVER stops… yeah, it can drive you bonkers after awhile. Guess I should just be glad I’m only visiting and don’t live here (or in Seattle or anywhere else where it rains a lot).

I also like the ocean. Unfortunately, the oceans on Kamino are generally too rough for recreational swimming. Dang. I did get to take a submersible ride and see the sea life, however. That was fun, except when Shmendrick got seasick upon surfacing and proceeded to shower his lunch all over Vader’s boots.

Boba Fett did drop by (thanks for the tip, Tom), and he gave me a tour of his hometown. Yes, they still use this place to grow and train clone soldiers, though the Empire does also recruit troops from various planets. The cloning facility is HUGE! My entire high school could have fit in here! And do you know how weird it is to see the same guy’s face in three different locations around and in the facility?

I was in for a nasty shock when Fett and Vader showed me a room where a small battalion of soldiers was engaged in weapons training. It didn’t take me long to realize these clones were different. Namely, they were female.

“There are certain situations where it makes more sense to send in a woman rather than a man,” Vader informed me.

“Don’t send a guy to do a girl’s job, is that it?” I asked.

“In a sense.”

Seeing girl stormtroopers isn’t what threw me, however. What did that was when one of them put her weapon down, turned to the water cooler for a drink, and pulled off her helmet.

“Huh-huh-WHAT!!!”

Fett gave Vader a look – what kind I’m not sure, he was masked, okay? “I thought you told her.”

“I was about to,” Vader countered.

“When did I give you permission to clone me?!” I screeched.

“In the Empire, permission is not necessary,” Vader replied. “You are right in that it would have been common courtesy to ask, but I knew you would refuse. I judged it better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.”

After I’d had a minute to calm down – and whack Vader over the head with my laptop bag a few times – I had to ask. “Why me? I’m a klutz. I can’t stand the sight of blood. And I hate fighting. So why make soldiers out of my DNA?”

“It’s not purely your DNA,” Fett replied. “It has been altered to accelerate their growth and increase their physical prowess.”

“I selected your genetic material because I wanted clones able to think creatively in a situation,” Vader added. “Yours was the best.”

I have to admit, that comment helped salve my anger slightly. And I guess this explained the morning I woke up to find someone had cut my hair in the night.

After fighting my way through a mob of clones, I reached my quarters without incident to check my e-mail. Someone had left a package on my bed, and I opened it up to find a leather-bound book. When I turned the pages, I saw that someone had compiled my fan fiction stories into the volume.

“Happy birthday, Kenya,” Vader told me from the doorway.

I smiled. “Thanks, Darth. I guess I should be returning the favor, but I don’t know when your birthday is.”

He shook his head. “Eventually one reaches the point when it’s pointless to celebrate how old you’ve become.”

“Aw, come on, what’s an excuse for free cake, huh?”

Shmendrick flew in at that moment, smeared from muzzle to tail with chocolate icing and looking far too pleased with himself. He belched, gave me an “I-can’t-believe-I-ate-the-whole-thing” look, and began licking his scales clean.

Vader swore loudly. “I told them to keep him away from the kitchens!”

I just laughed. Okay, so no free cake for this birthday, but the entertainment value is good enough, isn’t it?