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

STAR WARS EPISODE 7

A CORPSE THROUGH WHICH THE FORCE SPEAKS

Eight years have passed since the Battle of Endor,

and a NEW REPUBLIC has been established.

The destruction of the Sith marked the beginning of an enlightened era

free of superstitious dogma.

LUKE SKYWALKER, reluctant to abandon his outdated religion,

has been exiled to the galactic outer rim.

In an effort to make up for past injustice toward aliens,

EMPRESS ORGANA has granted special privileges to non-human citizens.

Human planets are flooded with alien refugees,

straining local economies while interplanetary megacorporations thrive on the availability of cheap labor.

Squabbling IMPERIAL WARLORDS

linger on the fringes of civilization,

but most stormtroopers have been cut off from their command.

Fearing retribution from Empress Organa's elite STRALUCITOR,

most Imperial soldiers abandon their posts,

and try to blend in among backwater communities...

Chapter One

Dustbin of History

The trashliner dropped out of hyperspace spewing garbage from one of its holds. It was a square ship the color of rust, nearly featureless save for the beak-shaped bridge near the front, and the gaping hole torn into its side by Kamarian raiders who had attacked before the jump to hyperspace. The trashliner spewed precious garbage into orbit around Tatooine as it made its descent.

The recycling business was booming throughout the galaxy, and so it was that the ship was watched by thousands as it approached. They saw it as a yellow pinprick of light cutting a path across dust-choked, pale blue sky, then it became a black square blocking out the red sun. The trashliner did not make for the spaceport, but instead angled for the junkyard outside of Mos Eisley. Everyone had cleared out of the junkyard to watch the ship's arrival, some licking their lips in anticipation, others clicking and chirping to one another. They were eager to get a read on where the trashliner would dump its goods so they could get to the fresh trash ahead of everyone else.

The trashliner skirted around the shell of a grounded Star Destroyer, a broken hulk endlessly bleeding sparks as the jawas dismantled it. Even from a distance they could hear the echoing cry of the trashliner's innards shifting, the roar of its contents tumbling against one another - then the ship's undercarriage parted slightly, and a tidal wave of garbage poured forth.

The sound of clattering steel and plastic was deafening, but still the scavengers down below cried out, "Section G! Trash dropping in section G!" as they took off toward the junkyard. Aged vehicles roared to life and aliens working in teams hopped on before the drivers sped across the desert. A few scavengers with their faces covered against the desert wind were lucky enough to have dewback mounts. The saddled reptilian beasts gave no complaint as their riders urged them toward the growing mound of garbage, some even pulling carts through the dust.

Regis was among the unfortunates who had no vehicle or mount, and so he took off toward the trashfall at an easy jog. His tiny cart was small enough that it currently hung from his back. The protective pads on his legs made it difficult to run, but he knew he would be grateful for them later, and also grateful for his thick gloves that stank of sweat. Despite his lowly station, he kept his beard in order, and wore a wide-brimmed hat to keep the sun out of his face so that he would not devolve into some kind of wrinkled, leathery creature of the desert. Still, he doubted that anyone would mistake him for a former Imperial. He was sure that even his old teammates would not recognize him if they saw him.

Within the hour Regis reached the mountain of new garbage, and watched the trashliner go through its "shaking" procedure to make sure all of its holds had been emptied. It slowly retreated toward the spaceport as hundreds of scavengers began their climb. Just as he spotted the shiny limbs of a few droids peeking out of the trash, the cry of Tusken raiders sent a chill up his spine. Several scavengers scurried out of the way as a gang of robed Tuskens made their way up to the pile of limbs. No fights broke out as the raiders staked their claim, but it was a grim reminder to Regis that he would have to climb up the pile. Only the strong, or those who worked as a team, could take the easy pickings at the bottom of the pile. As a human, it was illegal for him to own a weapon, so Regis avoided the Tusken scavengers and began his climb.

Making his way over piles of ship parts, discarded weapon pieces, and even pieces of living remains ruined by the vacuum and left over from bygone battles, Regis found himself a third of the way up the mountain when he stumbled on an intact, miniature ion thruster. He stood and stared at it. Though it was valuable, and he was lucky to be the first to find it, it presented a problem. It was far too heavy to carry back on his own, and if he took the time to strip it down right here, it would take all day, and he would miss out on whatever else might be hiding in this fresh pile of trash.

As if in answer to his dilemma, he caught sudden motion and turned. He saw Peaboon, a Lutrillian with white hair trailing down from his squat, simian face. He had shaved off much of the hair from his long, spidery arms. Back and forth his gaze went, from Regis to the ion thruster.

"Hey, Reggie, that's not bad!" said Peaboon. "Look at you! Lucky human!"

Though Regis had started to reach for a blaster which he no longer owned, he tried to relax, as he knew Peaboon was not a bad sort, as far as aliens went. "It's just my luck, alright," said Regis. "I can install this in the shuttle I'm making, and get away from this rock."

Peaboon inhaled sharply and coughed, then inhaled again, sucking in gulping breaths. Regis was about to ask if he was alright, then remembered this was only a Lutrillian's way of laughing. "You funny, Reggie! But how you gonna get this thing to the Toydarian's shop?"

"I'll think of something."

Peaboon scratched his head and ran a wide, purple tongue over his teeth. "You know what, buddy, let's just push this thing down the hill together. You know I sometimes ride with the Bento brothers on their cart, right? I'll work out something with them, and we can cut this thing up back in Mos Eisley, and divide the money three ways. What do you say?"

Regis looked at the ion thruster, then let out a sigh. "I guess that's not a bad deal," he said. "I appreciate it, Peaboon."

"Hey! It's no problem! Us scavengers, we gotta look out for each other!"

Regis forced a smile. "I suppose you're right," he said.

Pushing the heavy ion thruster down the hill was harder than he had expected, and they were soon sweating and sick with effort. It took over an hour for Regis and Peaboon to push the thing off the hill and roll it over to the Bento brothers' cart, but finally they shook hands and shared some water. It made Regis sick to know he was sharing water with a creature whose mouth looked like two pieces of liver rubbing together, but he was lightheaded and needed the refreshment.

When he left Peaboon to go back up the hill, Regis felt that something was off. He tried to ignore the feeling, and be grateful that he had found something of worth so quickly. He even had a good bit of the day remaining. He tried to stay positive as he picked through the trash. Seeing a bit of white metal poking out of dark refuse, he pulled. It immediately came free - and he wished he had never seen it.

Though scuffed and a bit yellowed around the edges, the stormtrooper breastplate was beautiful. One did not find workmanship like that anymore; even the Cheka, the soldiers of the New Republic, did not wear armor like that, preferring blue and gray uniforms that could be easily modified to fit whatever mystery meat species happened to enlist. Against his better judgment, Regis pulled off one of his thick gloves and ran his fingers over the armor's smooth face. His throat tightened, and he could not breathe.

He preferred not to think of the old days. It was just too painful. After Endor, when everyone was running around and trying to figure out how to survive, there had been a lot of rumors. Soldiers said that the Emperor had never died, but had tricked the Rebels so that they would overplay their hand. Then they said, okay, maybe the Emperor did die - but actually, he had found a way to transfer his consciousness to a clone body, so not only was the Emperor going to return, he would be a young man in the prime of his vigor. Then they said the Emperor had died, but only temporarily, as his doctors put his body back together and he was about to lead a mysterious new fleet to save the Empire - not just a fleet, but a fleet of fleets, with each ship carrying a superweapon capable of destroying alien worlds with each shot.

Such stories sounded stupid to Regis now, and filled him with resentment, but back then, that was all they had to go on. Nobody knew who was in charge, and when a general or a Moff tried to take control, they tended to either fall to some rival Imperial faction, or simply disappear as they fled from the vengeance of the New Republic. There came a day when Regis had been forced to admit that the alien sympathizers had won, and the age of humankind was at an end.

"Keep walking!" a brawny Pacithhip shouted in the distance.

Regis watched as a human scavenger leaped away from whatever it was he had been digging out. The man put his hands in the air, muttering, "Sorry, sorry!" as a giant green Gamorrean waved a club in his direction. Regis glared as a gang of alien scum chased the man off, then looked over his find with appreciation. When the big Gamorrean suddenly turned and looked at Regis, he put his head down. He had no weapons, and no legal way to acquire them. Feeling weak and shameful, he stuck the breastplate in a sack and went looking for safer territory.

Near the end of the day, he was nearly crushed as a gang of Jawas rolled a giant steel nacelle down the hill. On a whim he decided to climb to the very top, where it was safest. He had no real reason to climb so high, since this was a fresh heap of trash with plenty to find further down, but the sudden urge to stand at the top of the heap - safe, and alone - was overwhelming. He was dizzyingly high up when he reached the top, and he could see Mos Eisley laid out down below. The trashliner sat among a group of ships at the spaceport, dwarfing every other building. He could see his own home among the decrepit shanties lined up in the outskirts. He had to admit that from this distance, even Mos Eisley did not look so bad, though he knew better from experience.

Growing depressed, he turned and looked at the twin suns setting, one pale and bright, the other sullen red. A triangular-headed Arconan and some short, reptilian Saurins sat nearby eating their meals and enjoying the view, and since Regis had seen them and knew they were not the type to go looking for trouble, he sat nearby and watched the suns. Though he thought about pulling out his own packed meal, he could not move. The sight of the twin suns stirred something in him. It was like the promise of adventure, the calling to seek something greater than what his sad fate had seemingly allotted him.

Regis swallowed and shook his head, then turned away from the suns. He was no longer a young man. He knew better. There was nothing more to life than scrambling through garbage, and avoiding those who hated you.

"No, the Force doesn't work like that," the Arconan explained to one of his friends. "It goes beyond the material. You don't accumulate Force like a Republic credit and spend it on stuff you want..."

A Saurin trilled some strange noise and held his hands wide, but the Arconan shook his head.

"Of course the Force exists," said the Arconan. "It moves us all. You're an idiot if you don't know that. I pray to the Force all the time. You think I have any problems? Nope! Because the Force is my ally!"

Though his friends laughed at him, Regis had to admit the Arconan did seem strangely satisfied with himself. As an Imperial, he had been trained against foolish superstition. It was men and machines that won wars, not wishing and making obscure hand gestures. Regis sat on a rusted steel case and retrieved his meal, then suddenly stopped. He was bothered by an idea.

Back in the day, the Empire had had men and machines, and yet they had lost to an endless horde of alien freaks and demented humans who truly believed in the intangible. What was even more disturbing, he had heard his fair share of rumors that Darth Vader, and even the Emperor, were practitioners in the ways of the Force. Some even claimed that Lord Vader could kill with just a gesture! If that was true, it would not be impossible that the Jedi of the past might have been able to do something similar. There was certainly no end of fools who believed in such things.

Regis turned his gaze back to the setting suns. Again the strange feeling struck him. Was there something more to life? Feeling foolish, he cleared his throat.

"Force, if you're real... if something, or someone, is out there listening," he said quietly, "I don't ask for any big finds. I don't want wealth. I don't even want an easy life. In fact, I hate lazy, worthless creatures... but I don't want my life to be worthless. I don't want to..." Regis choked. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to continue. "Even sitting on this pile of garbage, I want... I want to live a life that means something."

Regis heard commotion, and thought at first that someone had heard, and was laughing at him. Turning, he saw the Arconan and his companions fighting over something. The wise adept in the ways of the Force was in the middle of prying a platinum disc out of two Saurins' hands while the others hooted and laughed. Regis shook his head in disgust.

"Typical aliens!" he said under his breath.

He pushed up from his seat and, looking for a place to relieve himself, he saw a latch on the steel case he had been sitting on. Kicking it open, he saw an old astromech droid lying inside. Though the blue highlights on its white body were scuffed with age, it looked to be mostly intact.

Regis's mouth fell open. What a find!