Fiction Gallery

The hab block shuddered as it descended through Tythas City’s atmosphere, the vibration almost soothing in its regularity. But Jovian, standing in the control room with the engineers and soldiers, knew better. He felt the shift, that telltale deviation in the thrusters, like the tremor before an earthquake. The hair-thin scar along his cheek tightened as he clenched his jaw, his crimson lekku twitching in anticipation of disaster. “Something’s wrong,” he muttered, his voice low, but carrying an edge of authority.

His crimson eyes, still glowing faintly from the internal power that pulsed through him, scanned the room. The engineers worked at their stations, oblivious to his mounting concern. They were too used to minor malfunctions, the usual chaos that came with deploying Mon Calamari habitation blocks. But Jovian wasn’t. His lekku draped across his shoulders, their intricate tattoos shifting as he moved, a silent testimony to years of violence and captivity. He was no longer a mere ornament, no longer the slave he once was.

The suit of dark, ceremonial armor he wore made him feel invincible — and yet, the feeling of danger prickled at the edge of his mind, more than just intuition. Something deeper, darker, stirred inside him, warning him of the storm to come.

The command panel flickered. A voice crackled through the comms, panicked, though the words were barely decipherable through the interference.

“—thruster malfunction—course deviation—”

Jovian didn’t wait for confirmation. He turned, his cloak billowing behind him as he stormed toward the main viewport, where the glowing outline of Tythas City’s terraformer loomed in the distance. Too close. The hab block was veering off course, inching toward the massive structure meant to terraform the planet into something livable. One of the engineers, a Mon Calamari with wide, panicked eyes, leapt from his station, running calculations on a nearby terminal.

“We’re going off course!” he yelled. “The thrusters — they’re malfunctioning again! We’re going to hit the terraformer if we don’t correct this now.”

The room erupted into chaos, engineers shouting over one another, soldiers barking orders, trying to secure the situation. Jovian watched the chaos unfold, his gaze cold and calculating. The urge to take control burned inside him, but the darkness within urged patience. The solution would present itself. It always did.

“Can we shut down the malfunctioning thrusters remotely?” one of the engineers asked. “We can try, but it’ll take time,” came the reply from another.

“Time we don’t have,” Jovian said, his voice cutting through the noise. His piercing red gaze locked onto the lead engineer. “What’s the manual override procedure? How do we stop this thing from smashing into the terraformer?”

The engineer blinked, caught off guard by the Twi’lek’s sudden demand. “Manual override? We’d have to go outside — EVA suits, thruster controls are external. And even then, with the speed we’re descending—”

Jovian nodded, already moving. “Get the suits ready.”

“I—what? Are you serious? That’s insane!” the engineer sputtered.

Jovian turned, his movements graceful yet filled with tension, his crimson skin practically glowing in the dim light of the control room. “The choice is simple,” he said, his voice calm yet filled with an undercurrent of barely restrained fury. “You either get the suits, or we all die when this block crashes into the terraformer.”

A silence fell over the room. For a moment, the only sound was the distant roar of the malfunctioning thrusters, vibrating through the metal walls of the hab. Then, reluctantly, the engineer nodded. Minutes later, Jovian stood in the airlock, the EVA suit constricting around his frame. The sensation was suffocating, a stark reminder of his time in captivity, but he pushed the memories aside. The task ahead required focus, not the ghosts of his past. He flexed his fingers inside the thick gloves, feeling the weight of the suit restrict his movements. The helmet hissed as it sealed, and his breath echoed in his ears, steady but tense.

Behind him, a team of soldiers and engineers prepared for the dangerous task of venturing outside. Their fear was palpable, their movements hesitant. Jovian could sense their unease, and part of him relished it. They didn’t know who he truly was, what he was capable of. They saw only the surface, the scars and tattoos, the armor that whispered of violence.

The airlock hissed, and with a violent jerk, the outer door slid open. The howling winds of the atmosphere buffeted against them, and the moment they stepped outside, they were greeted by the dizzying sight of Tythas City far below, the terraformer gleaming ominously in the distance. Jovian activated the magnetic clamps on his boots, his steps steady as he moved across the exterior of the hab block. The others followed, their voices crackling over the comms, a mixture of fear and determination.

“We need to reach the starboard thrusters first,” one of the engineers said, his voice trembling slightly. “They’re the ones causing the most deviation.”

Jovian nodded, his focus narrowing to the task at hand. The hab block rumbled beneath them, the metal creaking under the strain. The malfunctioning thrusters sputtered, firing intermittently, veering them dangerously closer to the terraformer with each burst. He led the team to the thrusters, his sharp eyes scanning the control panel embedded in the block’s exterior. It was sparking, wires frayed and exposed to the harsh elements. Without hesitation, Jovian reached into the damaged panel, his hands moving with surprising dexterity despite the bulky gloves. He pulled at the wires, rerouting the power, overriding the malfunctioning systems with brute force.

“Thruster two is back online!” one of the engineers shouted over the comms. “The course is stabilising, but we’re still heading toward the terraformer!”

Jovian growled in frustration, pulling harder at the wires, his movements becoming more frantic. The darkness inside him stirred again, a familiar presence that whispered promises of power, of control. He could feel it pulsing in the insignia on his chest, begging to be unleashed. No. Not yet . “The port thrusters!” the engineer yelled. “They’re still malfunctioning! We need to—”

Jovian didn’t wait for the rest of the sentence. He moved with purpose, heading to the port side of the block, the others scrambling to keep up. The wind roared around them, threatening to rip them from the surface of the hab block, but Jovian’s focus remained unwavering. As they approached the second set of thrusters, another burst of fire erupted from them, sending the block into a violent spin.

The soldiers and engineers were thrown off balance, tumbling across the surface of the block. Jovian barely managed to hold on, his magnetic boots straining to keep him grounded.

“Get those thrusters shut down now!” the lead engineer screamed, his voice laced with panic. Jovian didn’t respond. He was already at the control panel, his hands moving faster than they should have been able to, his mind racing as he calculated the right sequence of wires to pull. The darkness inside him surged, lending him strength, and for a moment, his eyes burned with an unnatural light.

The thrusters sputtered once more, then went silent.

The hab block shuddered but began to stabilise, its course slowly correcting as it moved away from the terraformer. Cheers erupted over the comms, the tension releasing in a flood of relief.

But Jovian stood still, his hands trembling, the glowing insignia on his chest pulsing faintly. He had done it. They had survived. But the darkness inside him remained, always whispering, always waiting. And next time, it wouldn’t be so easy to resist.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1LR-q-Wfz2-OBgm028Yag8e6Usq-GHz4W/view?usp=drivesdk

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=3ncBpxaKuCs&si=lZhwCebfuoFV3xtc

Jovian savoured the sensation of strolling through the atmospheric Promenade on Kamino, with the gentle rain enveloping him. He casually tapped the small communication device behind his ear and uttered the command, "Play Joves Playlist." Following a symphony of trills and beeps, there was a moment of anticipation before a melodious tune reverberated through the communication system. Jovian drew up the hood of his jacket and continued his leisurely walk along the promenade with a noticeable appreciation for the music that surrounded him. As a lover of music, he held a personal belief that humans had perfected vocalisations, although he acknowledged that this sentiment was open to debate. The music, a powerful catalyst, despite the ferocious nature of the rain, he found solace in the calmness of the seas below as he ambled along.

Reflecting on the multitude of events that had transpired in a relatively short span of time, Jovian found himself in a state of disorientation. The sound of the rain against his cloak and hood was fierce and meditative, providing a peculiar sense of tranquillity. For Jovian, water always seemed to embody a fusion of contemplation and unrestrained fury, a state of controlled chaos. With its unyielding constancy, the relentless rain exuded a meditative quality that he found deeply soothing.

As Jovian ventured further from the bustling habitation, he found himself in a moment of introspection. The memory of the chilling warmth of blood on his hands, a stark contrast against his now-retired Nightsister Armor, served as a haunting reminder of the sacrifices made in pursuit of his freedom. The melody flowing through the communication system gently drew Jovian back to the present, reigniting his internal struggle. As he grappled with doubts about the true nature of his freedom, he found himself ensnared by an unshakeable sense of bewilderment.

He unclenched his fists and leaned against the railing, fixating on the vast expanse of the ocean below. The distant reflection stared back at him, echoing the same sense of melancholy that enveloped him. He folded his arms, letting them rest on the railing, and continued to peer downward. The rain had transformed into a gentle mist by now, and the ocean appeared like a polished mirror, reflecting the slowly clearing sky. Within this surreal sight, Jovian found himself gazing at his reflection in the boundless expanse. As he leaned against the railing, he allowed his arm to hang by his side as though gesturing towards himself. From where Jovian stood, it seemed as if he could reach out and touch his own reflection. He gently moved his arm and gazed down at the sombre image staring back at him.

He raised and gripped the railing as he looked at the Infinite Ocean ‘What do I do?’ He thought he had met someone who made him feel okay. She was strong but terrifying at the same time, but Jovian saw a hunger in her that he had as well. Jovian knew that when he obtained his freedom, he would be faced with two questions:

What do you want? How will you get it?

He vowed never to emulate his cruel predecessor by buying someone and subjecting them to horrors. He desired something greater for himself. He reflected on the moment when he first imagined himself free from the man's influence and the exhilarating feeling of independence that ensued. Above all else, he longed for a life of his own. Being his own person was the ultimate aspiration. In the presence of the merchant, he was merely an appendage, but now he was simply Jovian. He was able to wield something that was still relatively new to him, and it was through finding this power that he was going to get more. This Force that pulsed through his was like the rain for him, a remaining constant when consistency was rare.

He started his slow walk back to the habitation, and a series of trills and beeps came over his comms again. “Yes, I’m on my way back” The ocean below him started to stir, and the mist seemed to reappear. He pulled his hood back up and put his arms back in his cloak “I want more of whatever this is” He clenched his fists tightly together, and the Force ebbed between them. He sensed that to achieve that, he needed to calm the tumultuous emotions stirring inside him and open himself up to new possibilities. Jovian's imposing security droid loomed outside, patiently awaiting Jovian's return, visible in the distance. Despite its clingy nature, Jovian had grown fond of this developing aspect. As he approached, the droid met him halfway with warm beeps. “Yes, it was fine. I like human music, don't be rude.”

Azmodius awakes to find himself in what appears to be an old stone room approximately ten meters by ten meters by ten meters. Feeling a little groggy he attempts to get up and winces at a sharp pain surging along the back of his neck. He reaches towards the area and removes what appears to be a dart. “Oh man, how did I not see this coming? A Friggin dart? I’ve anticipated strikes from some of the best martial artists in the Dark Jedi Brotherhood. I even anticipated Furios throwing thunderpunches while sparring. I've deflected blaster bolts coming from miles away. How did I not catch a friggin dart. And what’s in it? Poison? Ugh, If Furios hears about this I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Azmodius stands and looks to the wall he was laid up against to see a door sized opening with a door sized door made of bars of some kind of metal. “This looks an awful lot like a prison or holding cell of some sort, judging from that one and only door sized opening in this approximately ten meter by ten meter by ten meter room, fitted with a door sized door made of metallic bars. Those Children of Mortis must have captured me using some kind of poison then dragged my unconscious body further into their base. Lucky me!”

As he takes a step towards the door sized opening containing a door sized door made of metal bars, he almost trips over something. “Huh, I didn’t notice you earlier. Sorry about that”, he says to what is quite obviously the corpse of an old prisoner. Upon further inspection, he realizes that the corpse isn’t all what it seemed to be. This corpse, wasn’t just a regular corpse laying on the floor of a ten meter by ten meter by ten meter room with but one door shaped opening fitted with a door shaped door made of metal bars, but was all of those things in addition to containing what could only be described as ‘some probably sweet loot’. “Hey bud, do you mind if I totally jack what looks like some probably sweet loot? I figure you probably won’t need it on account of being a corpse and all.”

After a brief moment to allow the corpse to consider its feelings regarding having its probably sweet loot looted, Azmodius began to take inventory of what was most sweet of the probably sweet loot. “ok, looks like we have a flare, a glass eye, a hairbrush, a hydrospanner, a Nerf-wool towel, a remote detonator with nothing linked to it, a MerrSonn Model 44 Blaster Pistol with a drained power cell, a Baobab EZ3 Airbrush, and a Mace Windu action figure with kung-fu grip still in its original packaging!” Azmodius was particularly excited at finding such a rare piece of memorabilia in a condition experts would describe as ‘mint’.

Giddy and arms full with his newfound loot, Azmodius proceeded to the door shaped opening fitted with a door shaped door made of metal bars of some kind and kicked it open with a force enhanced kick. It appears that his captors never considered that their captive had spent years intoxicating himself with such a wide variety of substances and had thus developed a strong immunity to many poisons and toxins that would render any normal captive to a corpselike state. The trip to complete his objective and return to his ship was rather short and uneventful aside from a few well placed kicks aimed at a few members of the Children of Mortis, some machinery, and more architectural features barring easy passage of course.