Star Wars Aggressive Defensiveness [Star Wars SI vs SI]

[Raging Iron Thunder]

Twenty years into the Great Galactic War, maverick Jedi Knight Korian Nightstrider and servant of the Republic, is convinced that his Nemesis DARTH TEMPORIS has completed a Time Machine.

His belief endures despite the fatigued skepticism from the Jedi High Council. Playing factions of the SITH EMPIRE against each other, Korian has unearthed the location of the Time Machine near TATOOINE. Now, he engages on an unsanctioned and clandestine mission, determined to preserve the galaxy's past.



Chapter 1:

"Join me, Korian," commands Darth Temporis, my friend from another world. The sparkling hiss of our lightsabers crackles, we bare our teeth at each other behind our armor. Him in his Sith plated Dark Armor, me in my golden Jedi battle armor.

A rumble went through the floor of vast internal laboratory on Darth Temporis' Sith space station. The diversion created by my crew had worked, and still worked to keep Sith Troopers and Apprentices busy so I could confront my foe directly.

Leaning into the physical tension of our lightsabers, I used it like a spring, along with the force to backflip in my heavy armor to top the large electrical equipment dais in Darth Temporis' lab.

Resigned, I said, "We were best friends once, in another time, another place."

Surveying the large array of whirling Rakatan machinery for a weak point, the force guided my eyes, even my nose. The smells were an odd fusion of cinnamon and synthetic oils. The strange force enhanced living stone moved in sync with the mutant hybrid of Sith Alchemy bubbling through tubes like a steampunk villain's laboratory.

"Together, we will be more powerful than ANY Sith, or Jedi ever," Darth Temporis clutches his left fist up at me, lowering his red lightsaber to the ground. "You and I, Korian. With my machine, we will be immortal, rewrite history and live as GODS."

The folds in the force almost whisper in my ear. There — the key area appeared to be a miniature Sith Lightning Tesla Coil. I threw my blue lightsaber at the item, guiding it with the force, not hesitating at all to take advantage of my nemesis' monologue.

"No," I say a moment after, enjoying the confused glare of Darth Temporis, the monstrous version of my old friend.

Darth Temporis hesitates a flicker of a second. In our past duels, he favored throwing his own lightsaber to block my thrown saber, and tried to use Telekinesis to pull it up.

"Too late," I quip.

"What have you —" Darth Temporis tried to finish, and…

No explosion, no fireworks.

Time simply broke.

~~~~

It is the past. I am back speaking with Lord Zash, a rival of his over holocom just a few cycles ago. "How do I know," the attractive older woman states plainly, "This isn't a trick."

"Jedi are poor liars," I kept my tone even. In this time period, Jedi are so honest that the Sith find the concept of a scheming Jedi unsettling. Even Darth Baras let information slip about Darth Temporis.

There are the Sith, who want to conquer the Galaxy. That is bad. Then there is Darth Temporis, using ideas from another world, cheating with knowledge no actual person in this galaxy should know. He will go back to kill the nascent Jedi in ancient times, then supplant them with the Sith from modern times. That is much, much worse.

"This tablet," Lord Zash has it in her hands, holding it up, "truly does have insight into Rakatan sorcery."

Flatly, I said, "That it does." Not mentioning that I had copies, and even other artifacts from Lehon. If the Jedi Council knew, they would have questions.

"You have given me blackmail material over you." Lord Zash almost makes it a question, because it is.

"That is assuming I care you kiss and tell," I said with a wry smile, letting her consider the implications.

"Are you… defecting?" She asks, coy.

The Sith savor the opportunity to turn a Jedi, they try often and it rarely works on Knights like myself.

"Is the information on Darth Temporis solid?" I ask, allowing gentle irritation in my voice. Sith like that. It means losing my control, which means I could be on the path to the Dark Side.

"Yes." Lord Zash is offended, frowning. "My word is good."

Oh wow, that's rich from a Sith. Lord Zash isn't as known as other Sith Lords for her spy network. But, Darth Temporis killed a few of her archaeological teams and took items she wanted for her own research. Zash wants payback.

A Jedi Knight with a known vendetta killing Temporis? A Sith Lord with a tendency for making enemies of his own? When I killed him, I doubted the Sith hierarchy would do more that make cursory investigations, if that.

Revenge is such an easy emotion to appeal to a Sith. Their infighting and disunity will always be their downfall.

"Excellent," I clapped my hands together, then said, "Pleasure doing business with you, Lord Zash."

~~~~

I blink.

~~~~

I am landing the Praetorian Eagle, a heavily modified defender class light corvette into Darth Temporis' space station's landing bay. A hundred Republic commandos deploy, as my Arkanian copilot, Adan, lays heavy suppressive fire.

The fighting is fierce on the way to Darth Temporis' lab, we are overwhelmed by vast numbers of battle droids, Sith Apprentices, troopers, and we all die.

~~~~

Darth Temporis' lab is quiet and black. I stab the silent, unmoving machines with my lightsaber, my lightsaber cutting a hole into reality. I am sucked into the vortex, and die.

~~~~

"I remember," Darth Temporis stands over me, his red lightsaber boiling my guts. "You betrayed me in our last life. This is payback."

~~~~

My flying blue bladed lightsaber misses, intercepted by Darth Temporis' own red lightsaber. We duel long enough for me to kill him, the whole space station explodes, and I die.

~~~~

Another blink, my eyes wet with what, I cannot say.

~~~~

The fusion of Rakatan and Sith technology falls silent, a single sad, pathetic spark followed by abrupt silence. Darth Temporis falls to his knees, his life's work destroyed. I chop his head off. The space station explodes, and I die.

~~~~

It is the more distant past this time. Darth Temporis and I are on the floating building of Nar Shadaa, several years ago. Lightsabers out, we have dueled for an hour in a stalemate.

"YOU WERE MY FRIEND," he shouts over the howling wind, "WHY? WHY WON'T YOU JOIN ME?"

Between us is his dead Sith lover, Lord Zerketta in pieces. Lower legs, hands and head separated from her body by my blade.

I cannot say his original name, for I no longer remember it. "Zerketta experimented on children, Temporis, children!"

Temporis shakes his armored head, sad. "You cannot defeat me. Even in our old life I was the better student."

Vague memories of karate lessons flit by me. High school. He was, and is the better student. Faster, stronger, taller, smarter. Somehow it didn't matter then, we were best friends. The stray thought of rebellious pride, the girls always liked me more than him.

We have dueled for an hour because my old friend refuses to kill me. His anger is strong, fuelling a cold, shivering attachment to the dark side that has drained me dry.

"We were fathers once. Children? This isnt you!" I said, appealing to him. "Come back, join me!" I begged.

"No, Korian," Temporis says, rueful, like I am the foolish one, and have failed him.

In the past I had jumped off at this point, landing on a hover car. Instead, this time I fall, fall, falling…

~~~~

Now, back in the Praetorian Eagle, behind me Temporis' space station explodes. I have pre-programmed coordinates to Tatooine for refueling, and launch into hyperspace.

~~~~

Time rewinds. Now, back in the Praetorian Eagle. Behind me, Temporis' space station fails to explode. I have pre-programmed coordinates to Tatooine for refueling, and my ships deflectors give out from the Sith space station's turbo laser fire before I launch into hyperspace. I die.

~~~~

A third blink, in a moment between time.

~~~~

The Praetorian Eagle launches into hyperspace, and I make it to Tatooine, minus a crew, all lost in the battle to stop Temporis. Wait, did I kill Temporis? Did the station explode? I cannot recall. But I see some kind of naval engagement between Republic and Sith Empire and —

~~~~

A fourth blink.

~~~~

The fleet battle is long gone, no wreckage. Strange, I fly to Mos Espa, having a favorite supplier for my ship. Strange, no movement on the ground, nor any air traffic as I approach. Flipping a few switches… Nothing, no chatter at all, like no one is on the goddamn planet —

~~~~

A fifth blink.

~~~~

Barrel rolling out of the way, my communication light up with a vast array of Huttese curses that I only cursorily understand, from a ship I don't recognize at all. Scanners tell me the area filled with various ships coming and going from Mos Espa.

~~~~

A six blink.

~~~~

The Praetorian Eagle shudders, a strange whining moan erupting from the engines and several stabilizers. Wonderful. I was going to land in the space sport and what are these blinks? Is time jumping forward? Backward?

~~~~

A seventh blink.

~~~~

I'm hunched over my pilot's console, pushing myself up and unstrapped myself. The Praetorian Eagle isn't even flying, it's crashed on the ground.

~~~~

An eighth blink.

~~~~

What, what is going on?


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First time to post a fic here. Open to feedback, hope the writing is clear about what's going on. Also do not have a beta, and am open to anyone interested.

Hope to post a small chapter (1k to 2k) once a week, time permitting. Bigger chapters are nice, at the same time as a writer I find a 4k chapter doesn't take twice as long as a 2k chapter, it can take 4 times as long.

Please ask questions and as I read all comments! If something isn't clear, or folks want more information up front let me know.

I won't be strictly adhering to any one canon, using mostly legacy and the Old Republic MMO as a base. I own all Star Wars Saga Edition books, with a couple FFG and WEG supplements thrown in too, with bits of new canon that I thought were neat.

 

[Raging Iron Thunder]

Damage, so much damage to my starship. Stinky, dry, oven hot desert air permeated the cockpit. Reaching into the Force, I lowered my body’s temperature to handle the heat better. Multi colored wires hung from the ceiling, fried black components on the pilot console, this would take considerable work to assess then get the Praetorian Eagle repaired and flight-worthy again. Why that name? Reminded me of my old life in a positive way. Back when I briefly went through a Roman fanboy phase and tried to learn Latin.

Getting out of the Praetorian Eagle took a bit of work, the ship mostly half covered in sand. However, I don’t recall any sandstorms since landing, strange. These… blinks in time, was I going forward or backward? There was the distinct possibility I had blinked both directions. I could have gone forward, backward then landed in my own time. Then, those memories were so bizarre, dying over and over and over again. Is that what happened to Temporis? No, I killed him, my best friend. He fell to his knees and I decapitated him, the worst day of my entire life. But that wasn’t the last memory I had either.

Out of the ship and into the sun, studying the Tatooine landscape… Wow, and I thought it was hot in my ship. Jedi battle armor wasn’t helping, but I wore it at almost all times. My fellow Jedi were perhaps a little too paranoid about Sith treachery, but vigilance kept me alive.

My mind wandered back to the Temporis’ machine. The Rakatans did many things, but Time Travel? Not what I remembered of the lore of this universe in my past life. Not that it synced perfectly with my lived experience here either. Temporis was insane, my old best friend had lost himself to madness.

No matter, action creates the results which would set me up for opportunity. By fixing the Praetorian Eagle, the force would reveal to me my next steps. Much telekinesis later, the ship was sufficiently excavated to begin repairs. Again, being vigilant, stocking components meant I haven’t been marooned yet despite many similar incidents.

Six days later the ship was up and running as much as it could. The workshop onboard was useful for machining some new parts where needed. However, I didn’t have some critical components to repair my main hyperdrive, the backups were damaged in the crash. The water filtration components for the life support were all wrecked, and the whole communications array was burnt out. The ship was flyable, but only for a short period. And a backup hyperdrive would that was too slow, so the moisture and water levels would be a problem. Spaceports also didn’t like it when you landed without permission and ignoring their comms.

Luckily, no issues with Sand People or Jawas. Now, taking my substantial, hard earned Hutt currency with me, I was ready to purchase new components. The best part? I’m in the Praetorian Eagle’s cargo bay, getting on my flaming red LC-3 Lhosan Industries swoop bike, customized for combat capabilities. Besides, everyone knows the red paint makes it go faster.

~~~~

Blink

~~~~

AGAIN!?

The cargo bay was filled with sand to the point I had to crawl out of an emergency escape hatch to exit my starship. Surveying the landscape, the sand dunes had all shifted, once more the Praetorian Eagle was covered in sand. Annoying as it was, I excavated it from the outside again. Only to have to remove all the sand from the inside of my ship.

The way the sand moved this time was different, however. It was clear that my starship had displaced the sand abruptly. This meant the whole ship and myself blinked forward. Here I thought it might just be me.

And… yeah, my swoop bike needed disassembling and reassembled to remove all the gritty bits of sand that engrossed themselves in all of the components. That took the rest of the day to deal with. I ran several checks on the Praetorian Eagle to make sure it could fly away at a moment’s notice. At least, minus the busted comms, main hyperdrive and water systems.

The next morning I was finally on my way to Mos Espa. Past the hewn orange rocky crags, a gleaming eye sore became apparent in the distance and… Oh boy. I remember that shining silver ship quite distinctly from the first prequel movie. Accepting the sinking feeling, a deep breath later, I was likely thousands of years in the future. The positive is that at least Darth Temporis hasn’t altered the timeline.

Leaning over to shift the direction of my swoop bike towards the J-type 327 Nubian Royal starship, I quickly came across a familiar site from the movies of my childhood.

As I hopped off my swoop bike, I was faced by a defensively postured Qui-Gon Jinn in a cheap smock over his pants, with a hand on his lightsaber, Obi-wan in proper Jedi robes trying to be calm but perhaps menacing, a confused Padme dressed in her civilian disguise, R2D2 beeping in alarm, and Jar-Jar Binks dancing around back and forth like the terrified moron that he was.

Right, they would have just escaped the blockade by the separatist, no, banking clan or whatever around Naboo. Maul might have attacked them in the hanger in Naboo, wait, that happened later. He would attack them on Tatooine in a few days.

“Identify yourself!” Qui-Gon’s sharp authoritative tone certainly reminded me of the masters thousands of years ago.

“With respect,” I said, putting my hands up. This brandished my golden armored arms in the sunlight out from behind by white desert cloak, “I’m heading into Mos Espa myself.”

“How do you know,” Qui-Gon’s posture shifted, “we’re going there?”

No point in lying too hard, so I said with a friendly tone, “Visions from the force.”

“Master!” Obi-wan interrupted, offended by my presence. “He’s clearly a misplaced actor from the Holos. Only they would affect an accent like that.”

That stopped my thought process, a Holo? My ‘affected’ accent? I have one? I mean, it was American enough to be a Republic accent back in the day. Unlike those British accents the Sith Empire had, much like Obi-Wan’s. They sound normal to me. And again, Holos?

Padme’s eyes flickered at me from Obi-Wan when he mentioned the Holos. She likes what she’s looking at. I winked at her, and she blushed, nice!

“Excuse me,” I said, my eyebrows high with confusion, “Let me assure you,” I drew my blue lightsaber and ignited it with the classic snap-hiss, “This is quite real.”

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan did not like that, quickly igniting their own. Pointing his lightsaber at me, Qui-Gon said, “As I said, identify yourself.”

“Oh, no!” Jar Jar Binks shrieked, hands in the air, “Meesa ganna die!”

The Gungan ran back into the Nubian starship. Ignoring the flitting urge to throw my lightsaber and chop Jar Jar’s head off, I detached from my old juvenile anger before speaking.

“Jedi Knight Korian Nightstrider of Dantooine,” I said straight, ignoring Jar Jar’s retreat, receiving frowns after ‘Dantooine’ from the other two Jedi. Deescalating, I deactivated my lightsaber, clipping it back in my belt.

“I am Qui-Gon, Master Jedi. Obi-Wan is my padawan. This young woman is Sabé.. You are unknown to me,” Qui-Gon said with firm authority, not lowering his lightsaber. Obi-Wan held is own in both hands, ready to pounce.

“That’s because,” I paused, thinking of how to explain the strange time travel, “after defeating the Sith Lord Darth Temporis, his experimental time machines caused me to leap forward some number of years.”

“Impossible.” Obi-Wan’s exasperation plain, he glanced at Qui-Gon then back to me then said, “Master, this man is a fool. ‘Darth Temporis’ sounds like the made up Sith Lords from the Holos.”

What, my brain just broke from that. This is not what I remember at all from the Phantom Menace.

Obi-Wan Kenobi maintained his distance, his gaze drifting towards Qui-Gon, the epitome of Jedi restraint - thoughtful, silent, complete concentration on the situation at hand.

Qui-Gon seemingly tranquil yet regarded me intently, analyzing my posture and movements, his gaze fixating on my holstered lightsaber. “Korian,” he interrupted the silence, his voice tranquil, laced with a subtle challenge. “A true Jedi Knight understands that knowledge is only half our code. Action, the application of this knowledge, is its counterpart. If you are a Jedi Knight, you should be able to demonstrate this.”

This was not a surprise to me, this was a man who liked challenges.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, “Master Qui-Gon,” he began, his voice a quiet mask over his implicit disagreement.

Qui-Gon turned to meet his padawan’s gaze, a gentleness softening his eyes. "Don’t worry, Obi-Wan. I intend Korian no harm. This is simply a test of skill, not a duel to the death."

The green lightsaber deactivated, Obi-Wan clipped his back into his belt, unhappy.

This was a solid opportunity to test the capabilities of the ‘future’ Jedi firsthand. From my memory, the Jedi of ancient times were far more competent. I nodded, detaching my lightsaber from my belt once more. The soft whir of our lightsabers being turned on permeated the air, both of us anticipating the forthcoming display of skill.

Qui-Gon launched into a standard Ataru attack leap, which I ducked out of the way, bringing up my lightsaber to deflect a follow up attack. I angled my lightsaber such that my riposte nearly skewered Qui-Gon. I wasn’t worried about hurting him, he’s a big boy and can wear his Jedi pants properly. This forced him into an aerial reverse leap to dodge, which is what I wanted—space.

Taking a single heartbeat, I leaned into the force, into myself, into my lightsaber, then launched my vicious assault before Qui-Gon could land. When attacking with Juyo, the ferocity style, one must let go of the concept of defense. Attack so fast, so wild, so brazen, you chase your opponent. Harry them, batter them, bludgeon them unapologetically. Attack so hard your opponents cannot counterattack. Play dirty, play to win, most of all, let your passion out. I love fighting. I was reborn for moments like these, because now I truly can let it all go. No fear. No anxious worries, no hesitation. Pure adrenaline.

As Jedi Knights go, I’m excellent. Pushing myself in training to take advantage of my height and frame, I have lots of muscle to hammer my opponents. Combined with good reflexes, I acquit myself well against a master of Qui-Gon’s capabilities. In the end, we both agreed to stop. Qui-Gon is panting more heavily than I am, then again, I’m only in my late twenties. Not panting myself, I went easy on him. No wonder he gets killed by Darth Maul.

The Jedi of this era have noticeable gaps in their training. Then again, they also probably fall to the Darkside at a much lower rate.

“Your use of Juyo,” Qui-Gon says, pulling his lightsaber back and deactivating it, his stance wide with his hands on his belt, “is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Only one experienced in many lightsaber battles would fight like you.”

It’s the truth. The war started a few years after I was reborn. Preparation for the war was all I knew as a child, and as a teenage padawan saw significant field experience. A pang at the memory of my second father, Gal Nightstrider, and the lessons he taught me.

“You’ve never fought an armored opponent,” I state, motioning with my hand to use the force to pull the dust off my armor and cloak.

The Naboo guards in their maroon and blue uniforms were out, blasters pointing at me. Happened around the middle of my duel with Qui-Gon.

“No. You move with your armor like it’s a second skin.” Qui-Gon paces in front of Obi-Wan and Padme, still sizing me up.

“You don’t survive against most Sith without Makashi in my opinion,” I thumped my chestplate for emphasis, “or good quality battle armor.”

Qui-Gon was not experienced, he’d received a backhand with the weight of an armored fist, the bruise on his cheek growing evidence. He motioned at the guards “You can go back inside.” Jar Jar stayed in the Nubian starship, thank God. “You use Makashi and Juyo. My master would not approve.”

Captain… P something sputtered, “Are you sure master Jedi? You two were fighting…” Yes we had. They still had their blasters pointing at me. “We have to protect—”

The Queen, of course, but Qui-Gon interrupted firmly, “No Captain Panaka, this is Jedi Knight Korian Nightstrider, he is not an enemy.”

The Captain holstered his blaster, along with his men, unhappy. “Yes, master Jedi.”

They did not leave, but Qui-Gon didn’t force the issue. He turned to his padawan, asking, “Obi-Wan, do you agree with me that this man is a Jedi and not a Sith?”

Obi-Wan scratched his chin with his left hand, which rested on folded right arm. “Well master,” he began, “he does use Juyo, the ferocity lightsaber form.” He motioned at me from head to toe. “ The use of battle armor is unheard of since the New Sith Wars a thousand years ago. However, I sense no part of the dark side in him, and his emotions are well regulated.”

Good point. Much of what made a Jedi in my old world would be called exceptional emotional intelligence and healthy emotional regulation. And meditation, lots of meditation.

“An accurate assessment,” Qui-Gon said, pleased with his padawan. He turned to me, “What year are you from?”

For a moment, I almost choked on the grief thinking about all the friends, family, grandparents, brothers, sisters who I’d never see again. Composing myself, I managed to say, “21385 on the Galactic Standard Calendar.”

Qui-Gon's response was a solemn nod, accepting the information accepted without a ripple of surprise. "You've leaped over 3600 years then," he noted, his tone thoughtful. "We'll guide you in this new time. You could entrust your speeder bike with us for the time being."

I nodded at that, walking it over to a nervous Nabooian Guard.

“This young handmaiden, Sabé,” he motioned at Padme, “is itching to speak with you.”

Yes she was, looking up at me with those big beaming brown eyes. “You’re really from the Great Galactic War?” ‘Sabé’s voice full of awe, doing a great job of acting like a smitten teenager. Right, that’s what they ended up calling that war… “And Darth Temporis is real?”

“Yes, he was a profoundly capable and organized Sith Lord,” I said, gently motioning with my hands to explain my words. “He experimented both scientifically and with the force on the time-space continuum. Highly dangerous. It’s within reason,” though I did not want to admit it, forcing the words out, “that Temporis survived and landed here, in this time and space.”

The vague mention of Holos about him seriously bothered me. It should not be possible.

“Truly?” Obi-Wan asked, a careful blend of skepticism and wonder straining his voice. “We believe the Sith are no more than a master and an apprentice.”

“Not in my time,” I said soberly, bringing my speeder bike to their Nubian starship. “They cooperated better in large numbers under the Sith Emperor. A Sith like Darth Temporis would have a large power base: numerous apprentices and lesser Lords working under him. They had a common purpose in the Sith Empire, though not without infighting. Whole campaigns were lost against the Republic because of their petty jealousies towards each other.”

Obi-Wan took my words with a modicum of wariness, Qui-Gon took in my revelations with the acceptance of a seasoned diplomat. No doubt, the master Jedi would have me committed to the Jedi equivalent of a mental asylum, thinking me totally detached from reality.

“Korian,” Qui-Gon said abruptly, “Would you spar with my padawan, Obi-Wan? He is nearly ready for his trials to become a Jedi Knight, and he could learn from you.”

Likely another test, but also an extension of trust that I wouldn’t brutalize the padawan. “Sure,” I said with a wry smile, “Happy to help with his instruction.”

"Master, is this… fair?" Obi-wan voiced out his concern, but his eyes said something else - a yearning for the match.

Qui-Gon simply smiled. "Sometimes, Obi-Wan, fairness isn't about matching strength but about learning from each other."

Without another word, I unsheathed my lightsaber, its vibrant blue glow casting ethereal shadows over the desert terrain. Obi-Wan's emerald green blade came to life in response, humming in harmony with mine.

The match began on an unspoken agreement, our movements a dynamic symphony under the twin suns of Tatooine. I maneuvered with the styles my second father taught me - powerful, erratic strokes interspersed with acrobatic flips and spins.

In contrast, Obi-Wan wielded his lightsaber with a grace and precision that was clearly a result of the ‘modern’ training focusing on defense, the fluidity of his movements a stark contrast to my direct approach. He parried my broad strokes with swift counters, his blade a constant whirl of green energy.

We traded blows, the air crackling with the energy of our clashing sabers. Our styles were different, our era of training centuries apart. Qui-Gon watched with interest, his keen gaze darting back and forth, picking up on our respective techniques, our strengths, and our flaws. Breathing heavily, our spar concluded when I knocked Obi-Wan’s saber out of his hands and snatched midair with the force into my left hand. A tactic I specifically focused on learning. Hard to accomplish against a Jedi Knight, but a padawan, or a young Sith Apprentice? Doable.

Obi-Wan's chest heaved with exertion, a faint sheen of sweat coating his brow. I, too, felt a mild burn in my muscles - a testament to his skill. “That’s…”

“Not fair?” I finished, smirking. “Sith don’t fight fair. The more I think about it,” I paused, “The more I think I’ll have to make sure the Sith from my time didn’t make it here.”

Apparently there was repair work for Obi-Wan, and I returned the saber to the younger padawan.

The conversation without Jar Jar Binks on our walk to Mos Espa was better for it. First Qui-Gon and I had a short discussion about the ‘new’ post Ruusan Reformation calendar system. Then, ‘Sabé’ peppered with me questions about the time period I came from,which I happily answered. She had much to say, enjoying my confident and assured answers. From what Qui-Gon told me, the Jedi knew the broad strokes of my time period, but only historians knew more of the details. Even then, they had lost much knowledge over the millennia.

Upon nearing Mos Espa, Qui-Gon said with gentle authority, “Korian, your armor will attract much attention here that we are trying to avoid.”

Hearing his polite request, I scratched my bearded chin and nodded. “Agreed. I’ll go my own way for a bit.”

Mos Espa stunk. Between the furry Banthas, reptilian dewbacks, and dinosaur-like Rontos, there was poop all over the place, unlike the movies. In the hot desert air? Not a great combo.

And Qui-Gon was right, the people here did in fact notice me as I strolled through Mos Espa. Vendors at various stalls with savory smelling food singled me out, yelling that a big guy like me should buy their food. Various other merchants and passers by heckled me to buy anything from clothing to speeder parts.

I was in the timeline of the first prequel movie. Did I want to make changes to this timeline? Should I? Would attempts even work?

Back in my own time period, in the chaotic mess of the Great Galactic War I didn’t worry about changing ‘the timeline’ - Darth Temporis did that all for me, us, I guess. I worked on thwarting him, keeping him in line, so to say.

“Nice armor, Master Jedi,” a pale Bith in desert clothing shouted at me, it was not a compliment.

“You get lost from the Temple, Jedi?” jeered a dark green Duros mercenary pulling an old Bantha.

Moving on, a sandy haired kid in light beige clothes said, “WHOA! You look just like the Jedi from the Holos!”

These Holos, I needed to watch them. A second look at the sandy blonde haired, blue-eyed boy of about 10. I remember him.

“What’s your name kid?” I asked and flicked a hutt coin at him with a janky sidewinder spin, which he still caught in his left hand. Good reflexes.

“Anakin Skywalker,” he said and put his right hand out. “These here,” he pointed to his gaggle of companions, “are my friends… Jedi Master”

Right, Anakin. Chosen one. Future Darth Vader. Interim incoming moody teenager. I shook his hand.

“Korian Nightstrider, though I’m a Knight, not a Master.” I said with a smile. Crouching down had an audible crinkle in my armor to look him in the eye. “Tell me Anakin, you know where I can find some parts for a starship?”

“Follow me,” he said, excited and eager, “I work for Watto’s Junkyard. This is so cool,” he pumped a first, “you even have the accent from the Holos.”

I have no accent! I sound just like him. Keeping silent, I waived off Anakin’s and his friends’ questions as they led me through Mos Espa, where more people mocked my armor. I mean, lots of mercenaries and shady looking folks in various pieces of armor unlike mine… But my golden battle armor was this recognizable?

If I thought Watto wouldn’t care, he was wrong. The Toydarian couldn’t stop laughing at me as I politely tried to explain, again, “I have a very old ship, the parts will no longer be made. I just need to look at various types of hyper drives and water systems to see if they’ll fit.”

“Sure, MASTER JEDI!” Watto burst in howls of laughter. “You are the most ridiculous customer I have ever had. There!” Watto floated up with an arm jabbed outward, “Is this a trick? Am I on camera?”

A chuckle slipped out before I could prevent it, “You'd be surprised, Watto. The force guides us in mysterious ways.”

Watto fluttered above me, chortling. “I have yet to meet a more unprepared Jedi.”

At this point, I pulled out a pouch of heavy hutt coins, dropping them with an audible clank on his counter. “Will you,” I asked, I did not let out any annoyance, none. “Accept this as collateral for me to go through your junkyard?”

That got Watto’s attention, his large eyes widened, the grin vanishing from his face as he looked from me to the coins. He floated closer to the pouch, hefting the bag tentatively. “Sure sure. Maybe look for a new costume eh?”

Mockery and derision did get old, but I breathed out my irritation before saying, “I’ll consider it.”

“Boy!” Watto shouted at Anakin, who was working what appeared to be a moisture extractor, “show the MASTER JEDI around.”

Money eased many issues, such as upgrading my now obsolete 3600 year old Praetorian Eagle. I don’t care if it cost the sun and the moon, that starship got me through a lot. Another Jedi might talk about attachments, but that ship granted me a lot of independence other Jedi in my time period didn’t have. Especially not having to listen to their skepticism of my agenda to destroy Darth Temporis. Not to mention it made it much easier to ignore orders from the Coruscant Jedi Council.

Which reminded me, I had planned to warn of the decapitation strike against Coruscant in a few years when the war ended. So much for that.

It took maybe fifteen minutes with Anakin’s help to find the parts I needed. The boy was a quick study and intuitively understood the type of parts I was looking for based on my descriptions. Back in his shop, Watto was not pleased with me. He had my coins spread around his counter, with a snarl he said, “This isn’t collateral, Jedi.”

“It isn’t?” I was confused. Hutt currency was the same for millennia, last I heard. A momentary flicker of confusion crossed my face. This was currency in my time. My grip tightened around the counter edge, this was a hurdle I had not anticipated. But I wouldn’t let this setback derail my course.

“It is not, these are toys for children!” Watto threw a few coins at me, which I caught. He buzzed up and down in anger. “You can’t call this currency!”

Right, well, guess Hutt currency changed in the last 3600 years, suppose I would have to melt the coins down or sell them to a collector. “This,” Watto pointed grabbed one to wave in my face, “is the only good coin you have!”

Pulling it into my hand with the force, Watto’s eyes bulged. “And you are a Jedi eh? No matter, you’re broke. Come back when you have real money for me.”

“I’ll do that,” I said with a nod, “don’t worry, I’ll be back with real money for the parts.”

“You better, Jedi, no tricks!” Watto shouted.

At that I left Watto’s shop, and saw Qui-Gon, R2D2, and ‘Sabé’ approach. We exchanged a quick wave as I went on past them. In my armored hand, I studied the single coin. It could still-

~~~~

Blink

~~~~


The world blurred, shifted on itself like an old movie reel getting adjusted properly. And everything seemed the same, I think…? With quick steps, I poked my head back into Watto’s shop, Qui-Gon, ‘Sabé’ and R2D2 still were in there. So maybe all of a 10 minute time shift? These blinks were concerned, I had no equipment to study the temporal phenomena I was experiencing, and never had gotten to Darth Temporis’ notes.

No matter, with this single coin and the force guiding me, everything could change.

Above me, I saw, not felt the approach of a certain starship. The roiling tidal wave of the darkside hit me, in the sky I saw a blood red fury class imperial interceptor: Darth Temporis’ personal starship fly over to land in the nearby spaceport.

My nemesis was here, and I had to stop him no matter what.


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Alrighty, update one week in! Again, no beta so any mistakes are my own. I hope people enjoyed the chapter, and please do feel free to make any comments or questions. I love feedback and discussion!

 

[Tel Janin Aman]

The time blinks are something I would be careful with, hard to care about a story when it could suddenly change course. Other than that I like it

 

[Raging Iron Thunder]

The time blinks are something I would be careful with, hard to care about a story when it could suddenly change course. Other than that I like it

Interesting, hadn't thought of that. I will say I do have a specific course planned that hopefully isn't too hard to get invested in. Once you see more chapters, would love to hear your thoughts on the result.

 

[Bear Ribs]

Well, I can't really tell where this story is going, but I'm interested enough to watch and see.

 

[Raging Iron Thunder]

Sorry for the delay everyone. Life happened, but I'm back at it!

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There is a brief sinking feeling in my gut at the sight of Darth Temporis' Blood Red Fury Interceptor… He is alive. I sucked my breath in with a hard hiss. A passing gaunt female Trandoshan took the hiss as an insult and shouted several colorful curses at me. She was even more confused by my apology.

In my past life, I would have to use breathing techniques to regulate and be calm. Now? Detachment from fear that Darth Temporis would win. Except he was dead. I decapitated him. Maybe not, my hand moved to my stomach where Temporis skewered me through, I'm here despite that potential outcome.

If Temporis were here before, he would have taken Anakin long ago. Unless… Anakin was bait for me. But how would they know I was here? Or he had bigger priorities.

At least I had the peace of mind that given all the repairs and maintenance done to my starship I would have found a tracking device. These blinks were highly inconvenient. I probably was leaking some kind of strange temporal radiation that he could track. With all the time getting the Praetorian Eagle flight worthy, I didn't think to run any diagnostics or make a device in my workshop to detect such things.

Regret is a useless emotion, I shifted my thinking to Temporis, he would have spies here already, reporting to him, five steps ahead of me like he always is. Playing chess, board games, even back when we had LAN parties back in the day, losing against him was a certainty. Unless… The times when I beat him in our past life were when I simply spotted what he didn't.

Tatooine - a confluence of money, corruption, greed, opportunity, and the Chosen One. Temporis would know all the angles of this key inflection point to influence several future events in one stroke.

Searching the Force, an answer came to me: Temporis loved theater, crowds, and attention. He was here for the Boonta Eve Classic. I needed to win a pod racer gambling with that single Hutt coin. That would be the beginning of my path to disrupt whatever Temporis was trying to achieve here.

Action. At some point he would go for Anakin, likely more than once in various fake outs to confuse me. Yet, Temporis hated the idea of a Chosen one. He believed a man made his own fate, that prophecies are only proven after the fact. At least, if conversations from our old life made any sense. Now he would move, make things happen. He relished embarrassing the Jedi, undermining their confidence.

Obi-wan perhaps? Temporis far preferred to pull Jedi down a dark path that led them to the Sith Hierarchy than just killing Jedi. In fact, I'd say fallen Jedi contributed to half of his power base. That and the legions of children he had via his extensive harem.

With Temporis potentially lurking in the shadows of Tatooine, every stranger I passed could be a potential threat, an agent of the time-warping Sith. But there was one thing Temporis could never account for - unpredictability. He could manipulate time, change destinies, but he could not predict the heart of a Jedi, or the will of the Force. He was going to find that out, the hard way.

While not a professional gambler, this wasn't my first rodeo. This was a tactical move, a bold stroke against a formidable enemy. That single Hutt coin in my pocket was a beacon of hope. I just had to be smarter than Temporis, something that felt laughable yet necessary.

As I moved into the Mos Espa's underbelly, the seedy cantinas and bustling gambling dens liveliness grew along with the falling night sky. The clinking of chips, the roar of the crowd, the thrill of chance - it was an entirely different battlefield, but I was prepared. I knew the odds, but I also knew how to turn them in my favor, for the Force is my ally.

The soft wind stoked another realization within me. A sandstorm, there was supposed to be a sandstorm this evening from what I recalled of the Phantom Menace. The weather instead was rather pleasant for Tatooine. Would Anakin still host Qui-Gon, 'Sabe,' and R2D2 at his house the evening? Either way, it is the will of the Force.

Around a bend in the road, an abrupt sighting two blocks down in red and black : Lord Koth and his sister Lord Kyra. The pair were minor rivals of mine and Temporis' lackeys. Young, pale, and lively orange flaming hair, the pair were Corellian, and fallen Green Jedi. Tempting as it was to shadow them, they chose to ignore my presence or perhaps hadn't sensed me yet.

Strategy, choosing what not to do was as important as what I did do.

As for Temporis' elaborate plans, I knew there had to be more at play. He was always one to weave intricate webs of deceit and manipulation. The presence of Lord Koth and Kyra, confirmed my suspicions. I had to warn Qui-Gon. We hadn't exchanged comms information, likely still waiting for me to prove trustworthy and seeing if I shouldn't be in a psychiatric asylum. A couple of the useless hut coins bribed some human beggars to send find him and send a message I hastily scribed to warn him.

But what was the new Sith's role in this? And how did Anakin fit into this twisted timeline?

What of Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon Jinn? Or even Dooku? I knew Temporis loved nothing more than to twist a Jedi to his will, to pull them down the path of darkness. Could he be targeting Obi-Wan, while young and susceptible? I knew Obi-Wan was no easy prey. He was nearly a Jedi Knight, trained in the ways of the Force. But so was I, and yet, I had been pulled into this whirlpool of chaos.

Or perhaps Temporis would focus on Dooku, knowing that the man was ready to fall. That was an unpleasant, worse, if he teamed up with Palpatine.

Yet Temporis could be dead. The Sith were renowned for their inward facing treachery… I once read a Republic Intelligence report estimating Sith losses due to internal treachery at a full third of the total.

No, that was wishful thinking. This was not just about disrupting Temporis' or the Siths' plans, but also about protecting people from being pawns in a game, and I cannot fail them. With a renewed sense of purpose, I ventured into the heart of Mos Espa's gambling scene, determined to win a podracer. And as I stepped into the seedy Cantina, the single Hutt coin felt heavier in my pocket.

This was not just a gamble, it was a promise to myself that Temporis' and the Siths reign of terror would end. That I would rewrite the destiny he had so meticulously crafted, and most importantly, that I would bring the light back into the galaxy. Let the game begin.

My eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a possible game to join. My grip tightened around the coin, its small weight a reminder of the task at hand. The air was thick with smoke, blurring the faces of the patrons into a single, bustling entity. The noise was deafening - the clattering of chips, the low hum of alien languages, and the occasional roar of a heated dispute. I welcomed the chaos, allowed it to cloak me in anonymity.

Finally, I spotted a game of Pazaak, a card game popular amongst the locals. It was a game of strategy and luck, much like my current predicament. As I approached, a Gamorean shouted at me, "Hey it's a Jedi from the Holos, guys!"

Smirking, I laid down my single Hutt coin, grabbing a chair and sitting down. "Just an actor practicing for my next gig." I waggled my eyebrows, at the crowd, laughing with everyone as if we were all in on the same big joke. "Deal me in already."

"Pha!" a female rodian, spacer of some sort by the looks of her, "A Jedi would never be caught gambling."

Technically true, but I was in dire straits and had a need. I didn't gamble lightly. The trick is to help everyone have lots of fun as I swindle them. With some cards as a bet, and the game was on. With each move, I could feel the coin's weight in my mind, a silent reminder of the stakes.

The hours rolled on. I won some, lost some, and my single coin multiplied, transformed into a small pile of winnings. My opponents looked at me with a mixture of annoyance and respect, the kind one reserves for a formidable adversary. But there was no time to bask in the small victories. I had a podracer to win.

As night fell, the stakes became higher. Losing, while risky, was important. If you won too much in a row, someone would pull a blaster out and the Force or no, I'd lose my chance at a podracer. If I remember my old lore correctly, many podracers gambled and someone had one to lose. More players joined the table, drawn by my winning streak, or perhaps the promise of a good game. I was no longer an outsider, but a part of the casino's ecosystem, a predator amongst predators.

But as I played, my mind wandered back to the looming threats - Temporis, Koth, Kyra, the race. I found myself analyzing my opponents' moves as I would Temporis'. I found myself constantly scanning the room, the Jedi's wariness ingrained in my very being. Every laugh, every cheer, every glare could be a potential threat. Even as I slapped the table with my temporary companions, shared stories over drinks, there was a part of me that remained on alert. I couldn't afford to let my guard down.

Closer to what passed for midnight on Tatooine, Ben Quadinaros and Teemto Pagalies, both vaguely familiar to me from the Phantom Menace joined the table I gamed at. They'd entered a while ago and watched. Looking at the size of my pile of money, I lost the next couple hands. Betting cautiously however meant most of it remained. Trying their luck at my tempting amount of cash, the pair both entered.

With dawn a few hours away, I found myself in possession of a hefty sum and a fair bit of respect amongst the patrons. But more importantly, I had earned a podracer, a BT310 Quadra, and more than enough to pay the entry fee for the Boonta Eve Classic. Knowing that the podracer blew up at the start of the race, I had to fix it, and fast. It was not difficult to hire a freight barge to ship the podracer to my starship in the desert.

Back in my extensive workshop, I went over the engines and the pod with the force, I found a couple likely candidates for what I remember happening. Technology really had barely improved in over 3000 years, what a bizarre universe. That said, part of the reason was the simplicity and durability of the foundation of the technology.

The quad engines kicked to life safely, no strange sounds, no explosion. It was a start, but not nearly enough to be sure. The sun rose over the Tatooine desert, painting the skies in shades of pink and gold. As I took apart and check every part of the podracer, the thrum of anticipation positively vibrated through me. The Boonta Eve Classic was only a few hours away, and with it, a chance to disrupt Temporis' plans.

But as the first rays of sunlight hit the dusty landscape, a chilling thought crossed my mind. What if Temporis was one step ahead? What if this was all part of his grand plan? The realization was sobering. But then again, Temporis was not the only one who could play at this game.

Now ready and in the cockpit, the modified controls, molded for my hands, this was right. The hum of the engines was a comfort, an old friend whispering promises of speed and freedom. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the Force, feeling its currents flow around me, guiding me.

As I prepared for the race, I thought of Anakin, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and the fate that awaited them. They were counting on me, whether or not they knew it. I wasn't just racing for a prize; I was racing for the future, for hope. The podracer was ready.

That thought stuck with me as the podracer's engines roared to life, the world blurring around me. There was no turning back now. As I sped across the deserts of Tatooine, one thing became clear: the game was on. But this time, the stakes were much, much higher.