Chapter Fifteen: Complications
Dec. 15th, 2013 12:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyofleithianIn which things go wrong for Han, and it really sucks to be Terminus.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: Writing Han, I admit, was kind of difficult. At least in the shooting Greedo scene. I decided to go for "Han shot first" (because Lucas' reasons for Han not shooting first kind of don't make sense to me, to be perfectly honest, and also, it's a good Establishing Character Moment for Han), and it was kind of hard to get into the mindset of someone who's just...sort of casual and pragmatic about it like Han is, if that makes any sense. On the other hand, I think I wrote Terminus pretty well, even if...well, it was kind of hard to write, admittedly. But it definitely also shows how ruthless Palpatine really is, and...well, evil.
Han Solo supposed that he should have known that Greedo would show up sooner or later, but it didn’t really make it any more surprising, really, when he found himself, on his way to get to the Millennium Falcon, staring down the end of Greedo’s blaster. He had been intending, at the very least, to get the money that Jabba the Hutt wanted – he had been running a few odd jobs on the side, and running errands for Jabba the Hutt was one of them. Unfortunately, he’d been running behind on credits for Jabba, and considering how impatient Jabba could get, to say that he was screwed would probably be putting it mildly – he hadn’t necessarily expected Jabba to get this impatient, and he knew full well that Jabba’s patience was probably stretched very thin. Assuming that he had any patience left to begin with.
“Going somewhere, Solo?” the Rodian said.
“Yeah, Greedo,” Han said, trying to at least keep himself relatively calm. There was no use, really, in panicking. Besides, when did he start panicking? He was pretty much the king of not panicking. Most of the time, at least. Considering that there were stormtroopers right behind him and one of Jabba’s thugs pointing a blaster in his face, he probably had every right to be a little bit anxious.
Not that Greedo was anything to really panic about. They had to be honest here. Greedo wasn’t exactly the most incompetent of Jabba’s thugs – there were far more incompetent ones, Han thought. So many more incompetent ones – but he was still pretty green to things. He was impatient, highly excitable, and he had a talent, Han thought, for getting too cocky – something that wasn’t really advised in the smuggling business. One never knew when someone got the drop on you. For example, now.
“As a matter of fact,” Han said, “I was going to see your boss. Tell Jabba that I’ve got his money.” At the very least, when Jabba heard that he got the money that he wanted, perhaps he could get off Han’s back and Han wouldn’t have the deadline all but hanging over him.
“Jabba’s through with you,” Greedo said, “You should have paid him when you got the chance.”
“Look, Greedo,” Han said, “I’ve had some difficulties getting the money, but I’ve got it this time. I promise.” A beat. “I’ll pay Jabba later.”
“We have no time for smugglers who drop their shipments at the first sign of an Imperial cruiser.”
“Even I get boarded sometimes.” After all, what was he supposed to do when the cruisers caught up to him? It wasn’t as if he could simply let the Imperials get their hands on that stuff. After all, considering the Empire and their position on things such as smuggling spice…
Han had already heard enough of what the Empire did to their prisoners. He had even seen it first hand, back when he was at the Imperial Academy on Carida. He had mostly gone there to fulfill a lifelong dream. It was moments like seeing how they treated their non-human prisoners – Chewie being one unfortunate prisoner before Han had rescued him and they had proceeded to flee the Academy as quickly as they could – that were enough to make Han realize that going to the Academy on Carida wasn’t quite the glorious dream that he thought it would be. If nothing else, it was quite the opposite.
He couldn’t say that he had any love for the Empire. So, hopefully, the moment that he got away from Greedo, he could get his passengers to Alderaan and just get the stang out of there. It was the smart thing to do, at the very least. In the smuggling business, if you weren’t smart, you were dead pretty much immediately. That was the best that Han could count on, really.
Greedo, meanwhile, didn’t seem to be buying it. “You can tell that to Jabba. He may only take your ship.”
Even that was enough to make something prickle in Han. Jabba and his thugs could threaten him all they wanted, but taking his ship? Taking the Falcon? That ship, not to mention Chewie, was all he had left. In a way, it was like his home.
“Over my dead body.” Though Han tried to keep his voice steady, even casual, there was something in him that couldn’t help but be more than furious with Greedo if only for that.
He’d already reached for his blaster under the table. If Jabba’s thugs didn’t take you down to Jabba’s own personal torture chamber or something like that, they’d kill you on sight. Han preferred to avoid either fate.
“That’s the idea,” the Rodian said. Han could swear that he saw a sort of glint in Greedo’s eyes. “I’ve been looking forward to this for a very long time.”
Han drew his blaster. “Yeah,” he said, “I bet you have.”
And before anyone could even so much as blink, Han shot.
In all truth, Han thought, he couldn’t say that he knew who exactly tried to shoot. He did, really. Greedo had tried if only vainly to defend himself, probably because he no doubt realized that he was messing with the wrong man, but even that – even that didn’t help in the end.
Even looking at Greedo’s slumped over form on the table and the patrons staring at him if only in shock – some were even whispering – Han knew that he had to get out of here. He would have preferred, at the very least, if the confrontation had ended a little differently. If Jabba wasn’t on his case before, he certainly would be now. He just wished that the Hutt crimelord would, if nothing else, just stop sending his own personal thugs after him. If he had a problem, there wasn’t really any reason that he couldn’t come and talk to Han himself. It wasn’t like Han was afraid of Jabba or anything.
Then again, that was probably part of the problem. Jabba was not the type to do face-to-face. He liked to have a nice bit of intimidation first. There was no other reason he’d send Greedo. Still, Han thought, he’d have to do better than that.
And something in Han only hoped he hadn’t all but tempted fate as he said that.
He turned to the bartender, who was looking at him with shock and confusion. He flipped him some credits – Han figured, at least, the bartender deserved some form of compensation for the fact that there was a bar fight. Well, if one could call it a bar fight. “Sorry about the mess,” he said, and left. He didn’t want to keep Lady Nemo and the others waiting – who called herself Lady Nemo anyway?
Still, she seemed at least nice enough. A bit forceful – not that that was bad. Han couldn’t help but admire that about her, if only slightly. And she was kind of pretty too.
It was in Docking Bay 94 that Han found them. Lady Nemo turned around, giving him a sort of quizzical look – bits of Greedo seemed to at least be clinging to his shirt. Han sighed. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, “Ran into a bit of trouble back at the cantina.”
“What kind?” Lady Nemo’s voice was calm, but there was something in her that suggested anxiety. Not that Han could blame them. The group probably already had Imperial stormtroopers on their backs; they didn’t need the wrath of Jabba too.
Which was probably why he’d take them as far as Alderaan, get the necessary credits, probably find a way to talk to Jabba about all this, smooth things over, and he’d go back to doing what he was doing before these oddballs dropped in.
Han sighed. “Long story, not enough time.” He turned to look at the redheaded girl, who was looking over the ship if only quizzically. He got that response a lot, he found. Probably something about the fact that it was kind of an odd ship, and kind of strangely put together. Still, it was home.
“She may not look like much,” Han said, “But she’s got it where it counts.”
Kitster, meanwhile, seemed to be in awe. “It’s beautiful.”
Han sent Kitster a quick look of surprise. Of all the things he’d heard, he couldn’t say that he expected that. Still, he supposed, Kitster was right. The Falcon was beautiful. She probably didn’t look like much next to the shinier ships that others had (and really, even those were overrated, to say the very least), but she was fast, she was faithful, she was steady – she, along with Chewie, had been more than a constant companion in his life. In a way, she was like his best friend. “Well…thanks,” he said. He supposed he was starting to like this Kitster Stevens person already.
It was then that Han heard them. A faint voice. “All right men, you know what to do. Get them!”
Well, stang. “I think that’s definitely our cue to get out of there,” Han said. “Come on! Get in!”
They did, all the while dodging blasterfire from the stormtroopers. Han managed to dodge the blasts, as well as get in some of his own – after all, for all they boasted, most of them couldn’t hit the broad side of a bantha – before getting into the Falcon. With Chewie at the controls, all as the golden protocol droid mumbled about how much he “hated space travel” and the others strapped in, Han hit the release button if only to get the Falcon to get into takeoff mode, before getting in beside Chewie, and strapping himself in. Considering how rough their journey was going to be, they would need the strapping in. “Chewie,” he said, “Get us out of there!”
And with Imperial stormtroopers blasting at them, the Falcon took off into the Tatooine sky, and towards Alderaan.
And hopefully, Han thought, on a short enough journey to get back to Jabba with the credits he needed. He’d already tested Jabba’s patience too many times. He couldn’t take any more chances.
Then again, it wasn’t like many people were stupid enough to take chances with a Hutt crime lord, and probably one of the most powerful ones on Tatooine. He just hoped that he could smooth it over quickly before it got ugly.
***
“So you’re saying,” the Emperor said if only calmly, “That even after all this time, after all this effort, the droids and the ambassadors escaped?”
Terminus could feel a twinge of humiliation in him if only briefly, but forced himself to be calm, to not lose his temper in front of the Emperor. Not that that was an easy task. Because if nothing else, even remembering Vader’s betrayal, remembering Mara getting away from him, felt almost as if an old wound had been reopened. “I attempted to stop them, my Lord,” Terminus said, “But the girl…” He paused; even remembering it, everything about her, the sheer fire in her eyes…she was so much like Sabe that it almost frightened him. “The girl was quite skilled, even for a novice. She managed to take off one of my legs.” It wasn’t really the pain, he thought, that had gotten to him, really – it was the fact, plain and simply, that she had managed to beat him. Even if only temporarily.
The Emperor made a motion akin to raising an eyebrow. “I see,” he said, but there was something about it that seemed almost as if he was saying, You will pay for this in time.
Even looking into Sidious’ eyes, there was something in Terminus that could not help but feel chills go down his spine. Because looking into Sidious’ eyes, there was something in them that told Terminus that he wasn’t even human anymore. Or was never really human to begin with, Terminus mused darkly, considering the matter of the Clone Wars. The wars that had made them into who they were now. It had made monsters of all of them, but Sidious was the exception, if only because really, he had been a monster to begin with. The monster who had effectively murdered them all, in ways literal and figurative. The manipulator. And even looking at him was enough to make Terminus feel almost afraid, because in those golden eyes, those almost krayt dragon-like eyes…there was nothing left. No sense of humanity. No sense of conscience, reason, even the most rudimentary sense of something like good or evil, life or death, right or wrong. There was only power, and the desire for more power. For all intents and purposes, Sidious lived in his own corner of the cosmos, and he was actively shaping the galaxy into what he wanted it to be. Destroying it. Smashing it, reshaping it, remolding it, and so much more.
And he had made Terminus do it.
“What do you suppose I should have done, Master?” Terminus said. “We aren’t supposed to kill innocents.”
“You were made to follow orders,” Sidious said, “To do your duty to this Empire to the very last. You are, in the end, my servant. Our servant. Who are you if not to do my will?”
I’m not your servant. Even the thought of it was repulsive. He couldn’t bear the idea of being this creature’s servant, no matter how much it was, in the end, all too true. Because he was this monster’s servant. He had resigned himself to that fate, and if what Sidious was saying indicated anything, there was little to nothing he could do if only to get out of it.
But he had to try. He had to – he simply had to –
It was then that he felt the Emperor’s Force Lightning all but coursing through his body. Terminus had thought that he was all but incapable of feeling pain after what had happened on Sullust, and yet this…this, somehow, he doubted he had ever felt before. Electricity coursing through his body, all but lighting it on fire – it felt, almost, like he was back on the shores of Sullust, mutilated, badly injured, dying even as the fire continued to consume him, lick his body, char his hair, course into his lungs and his throat and so much more –
And he heard something echoing in his ears. It felt almost like screaming. It had to be screaming, he thought. It was long after Sidious mercifully stopped – the Emperor seemed to love drawing it out. Almost as if Terminus’ screaming was music to his ears – that Terminus realized that the screaming was his own. He was weak, so very weak, and though he tried to speak – he didn’t know what for, to curse Sidious for what he did to him, to all of them, to beg for mercy, but he was almost grateful that the machines that controlled his speech weren’t necessarily up for obeying him this time. Because whatever he would have said…whatever he would have said would no doubt be horribly humiliating. He was all but broken, a wreck at Sidious’ feet…
Even as they took him off if only to repair the armor, Terminus tried if only in vain to stay steady. To keep his strength from wavering. He would make Sidious pay for what he did. And when Sidious looked up in astonishment at the fact that his seemingly perpetually obedient student had killed him, then justice would truly be done. And he would reunite with Sabe, with their beautiful daughter, and everything would be truly made right again.
Yes. It would be made right again. It had to be made right again.
But dear Force, the agony, the never-ending pain –
Terminus let the darkness take him in that moment, and in the darkness, even as they worked to repair him, he dreamed of a better world. A better galaxy for Sabe, for Mara, for Padme, so many. Where Ahsoka was alive again, and their family was together, truly, as they were meant to be.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: Writing Han, I admit, was kind of difficult. At least in the shooting Greedo scene. I decided to go for "Han shot first" (because Lucas' reasons for Han not shooting first kind of don't make sense to me, to be perfectly honest, and also, it's a good Establishing Character Moment for Han), and it was kind of hard to get into the mindset of someone who's just...sort of casual and pragmatic about it like Han is, if that makes any sense. On the other hand, I think I wrote Terminus pretty well, even if...well, it was kind of hard to write, admittedly. But it definitely also shows how ruthless Palpatine really is, and...well, evil.
Han Solo supposed that he should have known that Greedo would show up sooner or later, but it didn’t really make it any more surprising, really, when he found himself, on his way to get to the Millennium Falcon, staring down the end of Greedo’s blaster. He had been intending, at the very least, to get the money that Jabba the Hutt wanted – he had been running a few odd jobs on the side, and running errands for Jabba the Hutt was one of them. Unfortunately, he’d been running behind on credits for Jabba, and considering how impatient Jabba could get, to say that he was screwed would probably be putting it mildly – he hadn’t necessarily expected Jabba to get this impatient, and he knew full well that Jabba’s patience was probably stretched very thin. Assuming that he had any patience left to begin with.
“Going somewhere, Solo?” the Rodian said.
“Yeah, Greedo,” Han said, trying to at least keep himself relatively calm. There was no use, really, in panicking. Besides, when did he start panicking? He was pretty much the king of not panicking. Most of the time, at least. Considering that there were stormtroopers right behind him and one of Jabba’s thugs pointing a blaster in his face, he probably had every right to be a little bit anxious.
Not that Greedo was anything to really panic about. They had to be honest here. Greedo wasn’t exactly the most incompetent of Jabba’s thugs – there were far more incompetent ones, Han thought. So many more incompetent ones – but he was still pretty green to things. He was impatient, highly excitable, and he had a talent, Han thought, for getting too cocky – something that wasn’t really advised in the smuggling business. One never knew when someone got the drop on you. For example, now.
“As a matter of fact,” Han said, “I was going to see your boss. Tell Jabba that I’ve got his money.” At the very least, when Jabba heard that he got the money that he wanted, perhaps he could get off Han’s back and Han wouldn’t have the deadline all but hanging over him.
“Jabba’s through with you,” Greedo said, “You should have paid him when you got the chance.”
“Look, Greedo,” Han said, “I’ve had some difficulties getting the money, but I’ve got it this time. I promise.” A beat. “I’ll pay Jabba later.”
“We have no time for smugglers who drop their shipments at the first sign of an Imperial cruiser.”
“Even I get boarded sometimes.” After all, what was he supposed to do when the cruisers caught up to him? It wasn’t as if he could simply let the Imperials get their hands on that stuff. After all, considering the Empire and their position on things such as smuggling spice…
Han had already heard enough of what the Empire did to their prisoners. He had even seen it first hand, back when he was at the Imperial Academy on Carida. He had mostly gone there to fulfill a lifelong dream. It was moments like seeing how they treated their non-human prisoners – Chewie being one unfortunate prisoner before Han had rescued him and they had proceeded to flee the Academy as quickly as they could – that were enough to make Han realize that going to the Academy on Carida wasn’t quite the glorious dream that he thought it would be. If nothing else, it was quite the opposite.
He couldn’t say that he had any love for the Empire. So, hopefully, the moment that he got away from Greedo, he could get his passengers to Alderaan and just get the stang out of there. It was the smart thing to do, at the very least. In the smuggling business, if you weren’t smart, you were dead pretty much immediately. That was the best that Han could count on, really.
Greedo, meanwhile, didn’t seem to be buying it. “You can tell that to Jabba. He may only take your ship.”
Even that was enough to make something prickle in Han. Jabba and his thugs could threaten him all they wanted, but taking his ship? Taking the Falcon? That ship, not to mention Chewie, was all he had left. In a way, it was like his home.
“Over my dead body.” Though Han tried to keep his voice steady, even casual, there was something in him that couldn’t help but be more than furious with Greedo if only for that.
He’d already reached for his blaster under the table. If Jabba’s thugs didn’t take you down to Jabba’s own personal torture chamber or something like that, they’d kill you on sight. Han preferred to avoid either fate.
“That’s the idea,” the Rodian said. Han could swear that he saw a sort of glint in Greedo’s eyes. “I’ve been looking forward to this for a very long time.”
Han drew his blaster. “Yeah,” he said, “I bet you have.”
And before anyone could even so much as blink, Han shot.
In all truth, Han thought, he couldn’t say that he knew who exactly tried to shoot. He did, really. Greedo had tried if only vainly to defend himself, probably because he no doubt realized that he was messing with the wrong man, but even that – even that didn’t help in the end.
Even looking at Greedo’s slumped over form on the table and the patrons staring at him if only in shock – some were even whispering – Han knew that he had to get out of here. He would have preferred, at the very least, if the confrontation had ended a little differently. If Jabba wasn’t on his case before, he certainly would be now. He just wished that the Hutt crimelord would, if nothing else, just stop sending his own personal thugs after him. If he had a problem, there wasn’t really any reason that he couldn’t come and talk to Han himself. It wasn’t like Han was afraid of Jabba or anything.
Then again, that was probably part of the problem. Jabba was not the type to do face-to-face. He liked to have a nice bit of intimidation first. There was no other reason he’d send Greedo. Still, Han thought, he’d have to do better than that.
And something in Han only hoped he hadn’t all but tempted fate as he said that.
He turned to the bartender, who was looking at him with shock and confusion. He flipped him some credits – Han figured, at least, the bartender deserved some form of compensation for the fact that there was a bar fight. Well, if one could call it a bar fight. “Sorry about the mess,” he said, and left. He didn’t want to keep Lady Nemo and the others waiting – who called herself Lady Nemo anyway?
Still, she seemed at least nice enough. A bit forceful – not that that was bad. Han couldn’t help but admire that about her, if only slightly. And she was kind of pretty too.
It was in Docking Bay 94 that Han found them. Lady Nemo turned around, giving him a sort of quizzical look – bits of Greedo seemed to at least be clinging to his shirt. Han sighed. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, “Ran into a bit of trouble back at the cantina.”
“What kind?” Lady Nemo’s voice was calm, but there was something in her that suggested anxiety. Not that Han could blame them. The group probably already had Imperial stormtroopers on their backs; they didn’t need the wrath of Jabba too.
Which was probably why he’d take them as far as Alderaan, get the necessary credits, probably find a way to talk to Jabba about all this, smooth things over, and he’d go back to doing what he was doing before these oddballs dropped in.
Han sighed. “Long story, not enough time.” He turned to look at the redheaded girl, who was looking over the ship if only quizzically. He got that response a lot, he found. Probably something about the fact that it was kind of an odd ship, and kind of strangely put together. Still, it was home.
“She may not look like much,” Han said, “But she’s got it where it counts.”
Kitster, meanwhile, seemed to be in awe. “It’s beautiful.”
Han sent Kitster a quick look of surprise. Of all the things he’d heard, he couldn’t say that he expected that. Still, he supposed, Kitster was right. The Falcon was beautiful. She probably didn’t look like much next to the shinier ships that others had (and really, even those were overrated, to say the very least), but she was fast, she was faithful, she was steady – she, along with Chewie, had been more than a constant companion in his life. In a way, she was like his best friend. “Well…thanks,” he said. He supposed he was starting to like this Kitster Stevens person already.
It was then that Han heard them. A faint voice. “All right men, you know what to do. Get them!”
Well, stang. “I think that’s definitely our cue to get out of there,” Han said. “Come on! Get in!”
They did, all the while dodging blasterfire from the stormtroopers. Han managed to dodge the blasts, as well as get in some of his own – after all, for all they boasted, most of them couldn’t hit the broad side of a bantha – before getting into the Falcon. With Chewie at the controls, all as the golden protocol droid mumbled about how much he “hated space travel” and the others strapped in, Han hit the release button if only to get the Falcon to get into takeoff mode, before getting in beside Chewie, and strapping himself in. Considering how rough their journey was going to be, they would need the strapping in. “Chewie,” he said, “Get us out of there!”
And with Imperial stormtroopers blasting at them, the Falcon took off into the Tatooine sky, and towards Alderaan.
And hopefully, Han thought, on a short enough journey to get back to Jabba with the credits he needed. He’d already tested Jabba’s patience too many times. He couldn’t take any more chances.
Then again, it wasn’t like many people were stupid enough to take chances with a Hutt crime lord, and probably one of the most powerful ones on Tatooine. He just hoped that he could smooth it over quickly before it got ugly.
***
“So you’re saying,” the Emperor said if only calmly, “That even after all this time, after all this effort, the droids and the ambassadors escaped?”
Terminus could feel a twinge of humiliation in him if only briefly, but forced himself to be calm, to not lose his temper in front of the Emperor. Not that that was an easy task. Because if nothing else, even remembering Vader’s betrayal, remembering Mara getting away from him, felt almost as if an old wound had been reopened. “I attempted to stop them, my Lord,” Terminus said, “But the girl…” He paused; even remembering it, everything about her, the sheer fire in her eyes…she was so much like Sabe that it almost frightened him. “The girl was quite skilled, even for a novice. She managed to take off one of my legs.” It wasn’t really the pain, he thought, that had gotten to him, really – it was the fact, plain and simply, that she had managed to beat him. Even if only temporarily.
The Emperor made a motion akin to raising an eyebrow. “I see,” he said, but there was something about it that seemed almost as if he was saying, You will pay for this in time.
Even looking into Sidious’ eyes, there was something in Terminus that could not help but feel chills go down his spine. Because looking into Sidious’ eyes, there was something in them that told Terminus that he wasn’t even human anymore. Or was never really human to begin with, Terminus mused darkly, considering the matter of the Clone Wars. The wars that had made them into who they were now. It had made monsters of all of them, but Sidious was the exception, if only because really, he had been a monster to begin with. The monster who had effectively murdered them all, in ways literal and figurative. The manipulator. And even looking at him was enough to make Terminus feel almost afraid, because in those golden eyes, those almost krayt dragon-like eyes…there was nothing left. No sense of humanity. No sense of conscience, reason, even the most rudimentary sense of something like good or evil, life or death, right or wrong. There was only power, and the desire for more power. For all intents and purposes, Sidious lived in his own corner of the cosmos, and he was actively shaping the galaxy into what he wanted it to be. Destroying it. Smashing it, reshaping it, remolding it, and so much more.
And he had made Terminus do it.
“What do you suppose I should have done, Master?” Terminus said. “We aren’t supposed to kill innocents.”
“You were made to follow orders,” Sidious said, “To do your duty to this Empire to the very last. You are, in the end, my servant. Our servant. Who are you if not to do my will?”
I’m not your servant. Even the thought of it was repulsive. He couldn’t bear the idea of being this creature’s servant, no matter how much it was, in the end, all too true. Because he was this monster’s servant. He had resigned himself to that fate, and if what Sidious was saying indicated anything, there was little to nothing he could do if only to get out of it.
But he had to try. He had to – he simply had to –
It was then that he felt the Emperor’s Force Lightning all but coursing through his body. Terminus had thought that he was all but incapable of feeling pain after what had happened on Sullust, and yet this…this, somehow, he doubted he had ever felt before. Electricity coursing through his body, all but lighting it on fire – it felt, almost, like he was back on the shores of Sullust, mutilated, badly injured, dying even as the fire continued to consume him, lick his body, char his hair, course into his lungs and his throat and so much more –
And he heard something echoing in his ears. It felt almost like screaming. It had to be screaming, he thought. It was long after Sidious mercifully stopped – the Emperor seemed to love drawing it out. Almost as if Terminus’ screaming was music to his ears – that Terminus realized that the screaming was his own. He was weak, so very weak, and though he tried to speak – he didn’t know what for, to curse Sidious for what he did to him, to all of them, to beg for mercy, but he was almost grateful that the machines that controlled his speech weren’t necessarily up for obeying him this time. Because whatever he would have said…whatever he would have said would no doubt be horribly humiliating. He was all but broken, a wreck at Sidious’ feet…
Even as they took him off if only to repair the armor, Terminus tried if only in vain to stay steady. To keep his strength from wavering. He would make Sidious pay for what he did. And when Sidious looked up in astonishment at the fact that his seemingly perpetually obedient student had killed him, then justice would truly be done. And he would reunite with Sabe, with their beautiful daughter, and everything would be truly made right again.
Yes. It would be made right again. It had to be made right again.
But dear Force, the agony, the never-ending pain –
Terminus let the darkness take him in that moment, and in the darkness, even as they worked to repair him, he dreamed of a better world. A better galaxy for Sabe, for Mara, for Padme, so many. Where Ahsoka was alive again, and their family was together, truly, as they were meant to be.
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no subject
Date: 2013-12-15 06:30 pm (UTC)Gotta love old Sidious and his ways of pain.
no subject
Date: 2013-12-15 07:24 pm (UTC)And writing Sidious was a lot of fun -- in a way -- it really was. I was actually thinking of something for Sidious to do to just display how ruthless he was, and this came to mind. I know I was definitely unsettled long after I finished writing it.
no subject
Date: 2013-12-15 07:35 pm (UTC)When I first saw that, I was quite young, and thought it was ruthless. And smart. I didn't like Han very much at the beginning, but I wouldn't change him for the world (the later novels where he keeps moping and being a complete ass over the loss of Chewie, that's an entirely different thing that I got tired of.)
no subject
Date: 2013-12-15 08:29 pm (UTC)That and kids are smarter than people give them credit for. There's definitely a line to what they can be shown (e.g. extreme graphic violence), but otherwise? They can handle hard/gray subjects. Disney and Pixar know that. The Rankin-Bass Christmas specials know that. J.K. Rowling, for all her faults, knows that. Doctor Who knows that. Most of the good kids movies know that. And Star Wars was more than willing to give kids credit -- so what made Lucas think kids couldn't handle something like Han shooting first?
I know that, to quote something Dave Filoni once said, Star Wars wants kids to know that evil is evil, but I think another important lesson to learn is that sometimes there are gray areas too. Doctor Who's a great example of that, and it's one of many reasons I love that show. But yeah, give kids more credit, Lucas. Seriously.
And yeah, I agree with you on Han. He's a very complex character and I wouldn't have him any other way. And yeah, later Han...I could do without him. So very much. It's like he lost his sense of compassion he gained in ESB and ROTJ, and his sense of fun. That later Han's really not Han. It's just someone wearing his face and clothes and piloting his ship calling himself Han.
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Date: 2013-12-16 02:14 am (UTC)I don't know, the entire dumbing down of things, it seems.
I like Han in the movies. And in the early books that came out years ago. The later stuff? Ugh, no.
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Date: 2013-12-16 04:55 pm (UTC)And yeah. *Sighs* I think that's true. There are some good kids films out there, thank God, but there are also kids films and whatnot that treat kids like they're stupid when it's really honestly unfair. Kids are very smart. They don't deserve this shit.
And yeah. Definitely agreed.