(Untold Told) A World Without Sin

I know there's more severe things on the internet,

but I'm sending this one out with a content warning.

So, you have been warned.

Gorramit.  Useless!  That son of a toad-bitten whore
is late, again.  Here he comes all dreamy eyed.

Hey!  Good morning, you!

Give me the cold shoulder will you?  Well how about
I cut your salary.  Does that change your attitude?
The damn fool thinks he can get along showing
up late and not so much as discuss it.
He'll come crawling to me before
the week is through wanting to
know why his wages are slashed.

Hey, hey, hey!  You're going to pull that stack
down on yourself.  I don't need an insurance claim
from you.  Here, you take the one off the top
of the stack, first.

Now he's only moving the top of every stack.
Is this dock monkey trying to antagonize me?

I've had it.

Hey!  You're fired!  Hey!  I'm not paying you!
I'm talking at you!  Quit working!  Are you
on some kind of shine or what?

Get... out!

Ahhh!  Hell, don't you have more pride than that?
I didn't hurt you.  Get up.  Get... up!
I'll fight the insurance claim.  You were
one useless son of a bitch.  You know that?
And ain't none of your friends worth rolling
over for some insurance claim out of my pocket.

What's the matter with you?  Go home.
You know what, that's fine.  But that's what
I'm going to do.  I'm going home.
Certainly can't get any help here.

You sick again?  Honey, what did the doctor say?
Alisa, talk to me.  What did he say?  Did you go?
Why aren't you answering me?

Why isn't anyone answering me?
My wife is sick!  What are you all doing here?
Why isn't there anyone else in the emergency room?
Do you send them all home without helping them?

Well, not me.  Here.  You put your hand on stethoscope.
Let me help you with that.  And you put the flat end
on her so you can start with her heartbeat.

Isn't that what you doctors and nurses are supposed to do?

No!  Put those ear pieces in!

Ahhh!

Does this look like a joke to you!  My wife is sick and
you're going to do something about it or I'm going to
do something about it!

Are you listening?  I already fired my last man.
My business is shot all to hell.  She is all I got.
And you're here.  You're supposed to at least try something.

No, no.  Honey, honey... don't lie down.  Alisa, please get up.
Alisa?  What's everybody doing?  I need you here!
You can't lie down 'cause there's just one patient!
This is important, damn it!

Damn you.  Damn you all.

Alisa, Alisa, open your eyes, honey.  Hey, open your eyes!
That's a good girl.  Now I need you to try to support yourself
a little.  You weren't a sack of potatoes a minute ago and
these doctors aren't going to help us.  We have to look for
a way to help ourselves.  That's what we always do, right?

But I can't have you trying to lay down on me.  Remember the farm?
That stupid dustbowl of a farm that some idgit bought so we could
come out here?  When the cattle went down there was almost
no time for getting them back up.  Remember?  Alisa, honey,
I need you walking around on your feet now.  Something's
really wrong with everybody.  I can't have that happening
to you.  Please, darling.  I don't know what I'm supposed
to do if I lose you.  We don't even have any kids.

Alisa?  Alisa, get up.  Please get up.

I don't understand it.  You ain't cough'n.  You ain't sweat'n.
You even still look at me and smile, if just a little.
What's the gag?  What's supposed to be the big secret?

Are you putting me through this for something?

What could I have done to deserve this?
And how did you get everyone else in on it?

Alisa, whatever it is I'm sorry.  Honey, I said I'm sorry.
Can't this just be over now?  Alright, Alisa.  Alright.
But you need to eat something.  You can't go on like this.
You're going to kill yourself for a gorram joke, little lady.

I ain't watching it anymore.

You!  You part of her joke, too?  You must really think it's funny.
What?  You got nothing to say to me, either?  Maybe I decide
to stop talking.  Yeah.  Maybe I decide to get with the joke,
while my wife lies there dying in our house over it.
Sure seems like there's only one thing to do after that.

You're it, buddy.  If you don't want to end the joke here
then I can make sure you never will talk again.

None of you people seem to be taking me seriously!
I ain't asking for much.  Just some proof of life
to put a stop to a prank that's gone on long enough.
So what's it going to take?  I already killed three of you.
That doesn't seem to work for you.  You're all right sick.
You know that?  We don't have nothing.  There's nothing
she's going pay you that's worth this.  Someone's just got
to say it's over.  That's all I need.  Just tell me it's over.
I'll go home, wait for the cops.  I'll be all peaceful.
And you demented whores can go on to laugh
it all out over your sick jollies.

All of them.  Every last one of them is insane.
There's gotta be another city, another city
where none of this is happening.

I can't leave her.

I know you're alive, honey.  Remember how that feels?
You always love that.  Alisa, please give me something.
Maybe I'll just go down to the whore house.  Did you
ever think about that?  You can't give me that silent
treatment now, darling.  You gotta get mad or maybe
I might just go do it.  I'm gonna do it, Alisa.  I'm going.

You know I think your plan might have worked just a
little too well.  I mean, listen.  You hear that quiet?
The cops haven't been here for hours.  I must be
able to do whatever the hell I want.
What should a man do with that?

There's no one to do it to.

Everyone's laid down and died.  What's there to do?
Someone's got to try to make me stop.  Someone.
I'll find them.  No one can stop us.  They let this happen.

(Untold Told) They Have Accepted Me As One Of Their Own

I have integrated myself in this company of Stormtroopers.  They are a truly fascinating people to witness.  Despite popular opinion, these are not family men.  Their indoctrination includes no attachments outside the Empire lest they are called up to raze a home town to the ground.  And on that point I have been amazed to see how the induction wipes away the memory of relevant families.  Any that initially wash out are left with broken minds for the trouble; unsuitable for another vocation.

I have avoided such measures by assuming the identity of one of their comrades.  The poor fellow fell in battle while I had been waiting for some opportunity to study this community up close.  And not only had they forsaken their friend (which here I will use the term loosely) but then all I had to do was attend to the serial numbers on my newly acquired uniform and they thought me the same man.

They were only slightly amazed to see "me" still alive and I received congratulatory swats on the back for the trouble.  This turned out to be a cursory comradery, which I shall speak more on later.

Suffice to say that I chose my timing well.  The barbarity had ended by the time I reported for duty to them, and we adjourned to the landing craft in which we could be transported to the Star Destroyer.
Now this vessel is a marvelous feat in engineering considering the savage society it represents.
That a dozen such undertakings should be laudable enough, but the Empire possesses at least one of these ships for a dozen star systems and perhaps more still after that.

This is the lot of unpopular government, but the tangible resistance to the regime appears so minimal that I cannot imagine why the Empire would commission so many.  Except, for the fact that to successfully press the citizenry into service in concert with the aforementioned conditioning serves to reduce the pool of upstarts that can make waves in the galaxy.

And there has seldom been a defection, which brings me to the topic of friendship.  Confidences are not made nor kept.  As stated, rare, desertions are an obsession and frequently checked for.  Had I directly asked about them, the taboo is such to have likely landed me under the pain of torture for information.  Rather, I quickly surmised that the way to these men's minds is to pose my questions in the form of complaints; away from the officers.  But such discussions must keep to other individual's competence and never infringe upon the good of the Empire.

I have seen a handful of times where one Stormtrooper
challenged another if whether he was questioning the Empire.
This generally spells an end to any conversation that was taking place.

Occasionally, I have even witnessed a superior officer
cowed by such a response from a Stormtrooper.

Their faces are uniform in and of themselves.  I was terrified at the first time removing our helmets.  Every head shaved clean, and stone expressions, with only the business of equipment maintenance about them.  I feigned the fatigue I imagined one would have after being shot and patched together and excused myself for the purpose of shaving clean.  I had already assumed that there would be no beards permitted, but these men are kept so without character that I'm amazed the Empire bothers with the formality of the helmet.

In keeping with my hypothesis, the Empire must be loath to reveal the living droids they have created.  Certainly, the helmets herald a certain degree of intimidation, but I would argue that these men's naked expressions would serve far better.  The upshot would be if whether the truth would prove so revolting that every last star system with a conscience at its center couldn't abstain from revolution any longer.

This may be a mute point after all.  It turns out the rebellion is already far larger than I had been led to believe.  What is intriguing from my study is that the Stormtrooper holds no concept of an organized opposition.  I think such a notion cuts too much against the grain in their training.

Instead, every landing to take a rebel base, every boarding party, each action is treated as an isolated incident in their minds.  Far more than the commitment of the average soldier, the enemy is forbidden to be coordinated, to so much as exist between battles, until the unit is informed that they do.

This affords a remarkable degree of focus since there is never any question in the Stormtrooper's mind of a groundswell large enough to overwhelm the Empire.  A Stormtrooper does not track the trend if his enemy is becoming weaker or stronger over time.  That is the business of the officers.

To that, the officers are obeyed, not respected.  There is no room for the Stormtrooper to have divided loyalties from the Empire.  Any order that appears too far against the Empire will be met with retribution.  And in such cases if after review the action is deemed appropriate then the Stormtrooper is never commended, which would bear the threat of suggesting he could have done anything other than act on behalf of the good of the Empire.

So I have been in the company of these men along a series of campaigns and gotten away with intentionally missing the enemy, thus far.  And this additional time with them has revealed a phenomenon which was obscured by my, shall we say, miraculous resurrection.

Their apparent callous regard for one of their fallen overturns once the battle has ended.  No one may order them off the battlefield before all the bodies are recovered.  This is an opportunity to discover wounded, but the Stormtrooper does not set out with this hope.  Over each body they have assumed the role of his honor guard and carry each fellow with ceremony.  Any hand lent from a non-trooper is always rebuffed.  And then they speak over them.

They do this reciting the promise to each man that their sacrifice has advanced the will of the Empire.  So I wonder, that if this is what they have come to expect from one another then, if any Stormtrooper were to forget his training to go retrieve his comrade in the middle of an engagement and his friend were still alive if the rescued man would not kill his savior for considering it a betrayal.
I have yet to see such a break in discipline.

Indeed, as I said, confidences are not kept.  And while each man is self-assured of that final advancement he expects to be spoken over him in the end, the Stormtrooper is constantly on the lookout for signs of treachery to fill the loyalty check reports with.  It should be impossible for any of us to become close, except, for the fact in my case they have saved my life on numerous occasions.
I am undergoing the emotional attachment that likely was intentionally trained out of them: gratitude.

Without the proper training and closet pacifist I am, I am lucky to be alive after these many missions due in no small part to the unit.  Despite it all, I think I am liked.  In the chaos of battle they do not know that I have not taken the life of the enemy.  I do not know for certain.  But in turn I perform what is denied them.  I mourn when the unit is broken.

I can remember no greater loss than at the Death Star's destruction.  This was when a small band managed to thwart the culmination of the Emperor's reign.  And after that, an increasing number of rebel ships answered the call.  I noticed the trend in more and more boarding parties.  I tried to hint at the danger to my unit, but they would not heed the threat.

Every ship would be taken with minimal resistance, always by the numbers.  I came to relax when the time would come for these operations.  Though, the casualties whittled us down.  I can recognize so little in the men around me that I'm not sure if I'm still serving in the same unit anymore.

So I have resolved not to lose another man, to preserve the unit.  Now we have been assigned to the forest moon of Endor.  Here, the savages make us bury uniforms.  Little tree demons who will come night or day, they don't care.  They remain impossible for us to see either way.  There are no dead until we find some armor, empty.

But morning or night I could see our avenging angel there in the sky.  Little did I know that one day it would flare like the sun.  And for us the Empire might as well have died.  There were no barricks to fall back to.  We fought from caves, but the beasts always found other ways in.  At least I never had a qualm about killing them.

We began to turn on each other as beards grew beneath the helmets.  We were as Endor's demons.
Then I was alone.  I shed the armor and had only the body glove beneath.  The Empire was still looking out for me then.  The glove prevented the need for a fire at night.

What I need most is to find some game.

One day I heard some rustling in the bushes and fired blindly.  I discovered one of the furry savages, dead.  He (I presume) wore the bones and regalia of a shaman.  Next, his clan members came upon me wearing his attire and I presented something of a curiosity.  I doubt I shall be leaving Endor any time soon.  For my part there is another opportunity for study.

(Untold Told) Jawas Go To Endor

There's rumor of salvage on Endor.  Salvage enough to pool the clan's credits together, sell the ancestral sand crawler, and secure passage off of Tatooine forever.  These desert-dwelling eyes twinkle in the star light, now with only a window pane between them.

Sleep?  In the dark of the perpetual night they are expected to sleep?  In the desert night there are far too many creatures for letting down your guard.  And space is not without its monsters.  The eternal night's foreboding stood as one of the many barriers to leaving Tatooine behind.  Now among the littlest creatures have stepped out among the stars.  It is hard to imagine their ancestors being the first nomads.  What now terrifies them is a mundane journey for others.  Oh, how the galaxy has changed.

Endor.  Endor appears in the window view.  The green of the earth, the Jawas once heard that this is how Tatooine used to be.  But deep grey craters have stabbed into the crust of the planet's surface.
If Tatooine is any indication of Endor's destiny then the world has already begun to turn.

Their pilot insists that he is in control of the descent, but the glowing underbelly and shearing hull plating tell a different story.  Perhaps there is another ship they should have chartered.  Nonetheless,
a clearing of trees created by the debris of the salvage they have come to claim has made a suitable landing area for finally coming to rest after the long journey.

Paradise.

Flowing streams of good water on one side, mountains of salvage on the other, rain clouds gently gathering overhead, proof of abundance in vegetation beyond imagination that dwarfs the galaxy's dwarfs.  The grass is another affair.  It's unfamiliar stems tickle through their wrappings.  But no matter.  The Jawas will spend most of their time standing on the mountain of salvage.

Work has begun.

So early on, they have no need to dig down for what is in the earth.  Some Jawas climb to the tippy top, and lower pieces down on ropes at staggered landings, given the size of the debris.  By the end of the first day they have hardly made a notch in things.  And by firelight they marvel in the shadow of the treasure trove before them.  No sand people to get raided by.  No competition on the surface.
Other salvagers prefer to pick among the orbital fair by the luxury of tractor beams.

There is no one to bother them here.

Maybe it will even rain tonight as
they leave themselves open to the sky.

In the morning, some of the clan are missing.

The Jawas quickly discuss the possibility that some imperials may have survived the rebel victory.  Against the sand people a reprisal for such a raid would be hopeless, but there is not telling what kind of sorry state the imperials may be in.  They settle on a small recovery expedition.

Rather abruptly they find evidence of stormtroopers.  Dead stormtroopers.  One helmet is split along the back from the top down.  The white armor of the troopers is smeared red in places.  A Jawa draws near enough to detect fur adhered to the armor by the dried blood.  Curious though.  These troopers remain, but there's tracks to suggest a half-dozen more were dragged away by their heels.

Why should these ones be left behind?

The Jawas follow the trail from the underbrush, but from now on stay off of the trail itself.
It is coming up to noon for Endor.  As the sun ascends to its zenith in the sky the sound of drums rise to meet it.  And there is the burning smell that Jawas are all too familiar from with Tusken camps.

High above, the search party discovers the village aloft in the trees.  And there too are men yelling in galactic basic, screaming, cursing, and the meek pleading of their clan brethren mixed in as well.
Now practiced in high climbing, the Jawas mount an incursion into the tumulent village.

And the sight is not for the faint of heart.  Armor removed, several troopers have already been treated to the rotisserie and the last of them are being lashed above fires over their own.  Amidst the horror, this also occasions the Jawas' first view at the humanity concealed beneath the stormtrooper while they even now struggle against the carnivorous teddy bears; who by the way outmatch the humans pound for pound in strength and certainly number.

The imperials' helplessness is alone a great deal to take in and only leaves room for shock.  No sense of triumph or comeuppance.  Surely no fidelity.  Simply an impossibility made manifest.  The fact that the stormtroopers' armor has been removed likely helps dissociate one from the other in some of the Jawas' minds.  And so the matter falls to the Jawas that they came for.

A dispassionate observer should wonder what, what happens next does to the Ewok mythology.
Sky people, stormtroopers, leave the clouds to walk upon the ground and they carry the sun's fire with them.  Whereas, beings more intimate with the earth now shoot lightning among them instead of from the sky.

And in the ensuing chaos the Ewoks scatter before the harmless onslaught.  All save one.  One Ewok stands with a stormtrooper's blaster over his head and screeches his high-pitched little war cry.
He has mastered the sky people's fire and is prepared to brave the dirt people's lightning.  Soon this ferocious little Ewok is struck and learns of the ion blaster's harmlessness, except, for the fact that his sky people's weapon has stopped working.

The Jawas retreat with their brethren
and return to the encampment.

That night the trumpets blast.  Whistling through the night air, arrows sail into the encampment.  Speeder bikes buzz the outskirts.  But nothing finds its mark.  The advance troop mince their way into the Jawa camp.  In the renewed silence of the night the shafts from their arrows tickle like high grass, harmlessly bit into the earth.  All around, the camp fires still burn.

Then with a bit of disturbed dust a couple of walkers rise from the loose wreckage they were concealed under and cast spotlights down on the Ewoks in the midst of the camp.  A trumpet sounds the retreat, but the advanced troop has been caught dead to rights in the light.  The Ewoks chatter in agitation and within one of the chicken walkers the clan leader delivers a brief command.

A protocol droid waddles out from the dark underbrush and joins the Ewoks in the spotlight.
She commences speaking with the Ewoks in their tongue.  The lead Ewok turns and shouts
something to the chieftain.  He waits a moment and stomps his staff.

Two new spotlights shine out from
the forest on the Jawas' walkers.

The protocol droid turns to address
the walker with the head of the clan.

DROID:  A settlement has been reached.

                  The Ewoks and Jawas will come

               together to salvage all there is.

                  No more raids will be conducted

                          by either party.  The Jawas may make

                        a home from the firmament that fell.

              There will be peace on Endor.

The Jawas and Ewoks erupt into cheers of celebration and assemble beneath the spotlights of the walkers; the Ewoks from the forest and Jawas from the wreckage.  The festivities continue long into the night.  And runners deliver food to the Jawas from the village.

(Asking Too Much) The Argument For The Fan Canon

In Knights of the Old Republic we have Carth, Bastila, Canderous, T3-M3, and HK-47 all up for returning at least for a cameo in Sith Lords if you indicate to Atton that the previous game ended on the light side.  And if you go for the dark side then just about everyone ends up dead, dead... dead, dead, dead.

So the sequel gives us a better idea of what happened to the characters that lived through the dark side ending, but since the Revan book was made the canon version of Kotor then we have a lot up in the air of what ultimately happened to these characters.  That's what I'm after with Bindo's Journey.

Now the sequel to Bindo's Journey is True Truce, which is set during the Clone Wars.

And I notice that a lot of YouTubers are engaged with what-ifs launching from the prequel triology far more-so than the original trilogy, which in part has to do with it being seemingly harder to justify a change in the original trilogy.  Though there be Sidious' grand plan, the Clone Wars appear more fluid to us mostly because it is.  Darth Sidious as a strong influence over the Galaxy, but lacks the control he so desires.

And in the last season of the Clone Wars the writers actually allowed the Jedi to trace Sifo-Dyas' end definatively to Count Dooku.  They confirm the clone army is more than mysterious, but created by their very enemy.  And Yoda has this to say:

Yoda: They have proved themselves...

Stormtrooper:  Move alone.  Move along.

I can accept why the writers had to make this creative decision.  They are writing a prequel to a beloved tribology that they can't violate the story to.  But no one could have opened a wider door to an alternate series of events to go down.  And while as a rule I don't want the Fan Canon to violate established events, in this case I am making an exception.  I'm still not sure where it will all end up, though, I do have a wild surprise in store for you since this will hopefully turn into a deeper exploration of the Star Wars universe.

Then on to the next series in the Fan Canon, we have Stargate's attempt to wrap up loose ends.
I simply don't believe the Ark of Truth ties up the Ori arc.  Think about it.  The Ori may be gone, but they leave behind defunct followers with a fleet of generally unstoppable warships.  Who's to say the warriors decide to go home?  According to the established rules of Stargate the Priors will still have their powers.  What do they do with their lives?  Where does Earth go from here?

From SG-1's time traveling episode back to 1969 and their brief jaunt to the future we learn that the Stargate appears to fall out of disuse or at least insignificant enough to allow an old woman to appear with the keys to it in her nightgown.  So I want to learn how that came to be, and I'm calling the series the End of Gates.

From there I've got a lost of classic series that just didn't get an ending: Lost In Space, Earth 2, Buck Rodgers, original Battlestar Galactica, Firefly; all these and more that while I'm at it I'm going to weave into a larger story.  Having ALL these Sci-Fi stories taking place in another universe is just lazy.  I've had to jump through a few hoops to fit more than one "first contacts," but I've arrived at some creative solutions.

If you're at all interested in this experiment of mine I hope that you won't just sit by in silence and leave me to figure this all out by myself.  I can't bring every Sci-Fi story into the Fan Canon, but fortunately I don't know every Sci-Fi story so there's some plausible deniability there.

Most important of all, let me know when it's not fun for you anymore.

Thanks.

Scene 40: The Exodus

The crew arrive in the cockpit of the Shadow's Heart just as the halo of Janriel disappears from view of the side window and before them is the refugee fleet assembled out of the former Republic blockade.  Below them one of the cruisers reports to Chapman's recall and releases a tether to pull the computer brain into the hold.

Off in the distance, beyond the moon Orelius there are flashes of light.  Tulia scans ahead to see Republic ships locked in battle with still further ships and so impossible to see.

TULIA:  It looks like the Republic might 

                  have picked up Zayd-Neil's scent.

NICODEMUS:  No.  

He leans forward to see the screen.

NICODEMUS:  The Prestmoors have 

                           begun their invasion.

VALORY:  What does that mean for us?

                                  You're not going to join them, are you?

He studies her a moment.

NICODEMUS:  Now what would give 

                          you an idea like that?

ERIMENTHA:  The Republic will be overwhelmed.

NICODEMUS:  Then I suggest you plan on this fleet

                              getting a lot bigger.  The survivors we 

                                     pick up along the way will be all that's left.

He leaves the cockpit.

VALORY:  I thought we were winning.

                    How did it all go so wrong?

AARON:  None of us knew what

       we were facing.

ERIMENTHA:  I think Samael was trying to

                               tell us that there was still a way

                to make things right.  

VALORY:  He was good the whole time?

DESDINE:  No.  Not the whole time.

                 But he was my master.

ERIMENTHA:  The Masters.  I need to find

                                        a way to discuss what has transpired.

AARON:  We'll go with you.

                           The fate of the Republic

                                depends on what the Order

                   decides to do now.

The Republic fleet drifts away from the Janriel system
leaving behind the rear guard to hold the Prestmoors at bay.








PREVIOUS                         

THE END

Scene 39: The Passing

Lying on his back, run all the way through, radiant light shines from Samael's belly and also in a small pool of dying Neumaferous.  But just as Samael's protection had lifted from Erimentha's skin
in a black cloud so did the black of his robe spontaneously disperse to reveal pure white beneath.

Zayd-Neil attempted to seize the fallen sword in a tendril, but Esben placed a foot there and proceeded to blast Zayd-Neil square in the chest with his long rifle.  Zayd-Neil rose from a crouched knee and holds a hand to his chestplate amidst sparking wires.

Just then Elan appears next to him and envelopes
them both in a cloak.  In a moment the Atlas begins
to rise revealing the light of the bright blue sky.

And sun shines down on the gasping Samael.

Erimentha comes to his side and takes his hand.

SAMAEL:  I never wanted this.

ERIMENTHA:  I do not understand

                           how you could have

                                           turned back the Masters' blood.

SAMAEL:  Young Perdeus, the Neumaferous 

               was never theirs to begin with.

                    It was first from the Alethia.        

           Find the Fates.  And do not 

         mention their names in the

 presence of the Order.

Or you will surely die

with them.  Find them.

Erimentha, find them.

ERIMENTHA:  Why this way?
                                 Why do all of this?

SAMAEL:  Would you have ever believed?

ERIMENTHA:  How would I begin?

DESDINE:  Fulfill your name.

ERIMENTHA:  What was that?

SAMAEL:  No!  No, that is not the way.

ERIMENTHA:  What is the machine saying?
Answer me!

Samael clenches his jaw.

DESDINE:  You can save my master,
                       though, I have no memory.

Desdine inserts Safe into himself
amidst halting hands from the others.

DESDINE:  Long discarded.  I couldn't have known

                  you before.  But now I remember once

                   that you wanted this.  You placed chaos

                    in the machine.  You gave me autonomy.

               And you thought me a failure because

all I wanted was to serve you.

             And I became Zayd-Neil's resentment.

              In my absence he beset me against you.

               Now there are countless heathens for me

               to vanquish.  I ask, what should I do once

                         I complete that task and you are no longer here?

Desdine extends his hands flat out over Samael
for Erimentha to take and he lowers her hands
on top of his head and wound.  They glow.

ERIMENTHA:  Am I doing this?

DESDINE:  Just learning, yes.

                    What is different?

ERIMENTHA:  Can you give me

                              no more direction?

DESDINE:  I am machine.  I frustrate this mysticism

                    though I do not understand it.  You must

              find the way to fulfillment as I must.

SAMAEL:  Erimentha, don't.

ERIMENTHA:  This doesn't make any sense.

                               His blood runs pure.  But I feel

                              the presence of Lethchor, still.

                                        I know it from that time on the Atlas.

DESDINE:  You were given a false translation,

                       Erimentha Perdeus.  Lethchor is not

                           indicative of corruption.  It means it is

                       hidden.  He is attempting to conceal

           his heart and mind from you.

SAMAEL:  Stop.

AARON:  Maybe you should let him go.

ERIMENTHA:  There is so much to learn here.

AARON:  Look at him, Erimentha.  

She is caught by his pleading eyes.

AARON:  There is something wrong 

happening here.  Can't you feel it?

SAMAEL:  You still have your own journey

                     ahead of you.  I have left a way

                to the Fates.  You don't need

           this burden.  Let me go.

ERIMENTHA:  Maybe I should.

Erimentha begins to remove her hands,
but they continue to glow and she sees
the Lethchor disappear from around
Samael's mind.

ERIMENTHA:  I see it!

In a flash the tower is washed in blinding light.

When the light fades, beneath
Erimentha's hands is Samael's fixed gaze.

AARON:  What did you do?

ERIMENTHA:  I glimpsed something.

                                 I was so sure I knew what

                              it was.  Now I can only 

                            remember that feeling.

She gets up.  And in turning to leave they all
see that Nicodemus has just dragged himself
to the top of the steps.

ERIMENTHA:  I thought he was dead.

DESDINE:  So did I.

NICODEMUS:  No such luck.  

Is anyone going to help me?

Behind him comes Abbess and Valory.
Aaron and Esben take up Nicodemus.

Erimentha speaks to Desdine
without turning to look at him.

ERIMENTHA:  You were not discarded.

                          You were tucked away.

DESDINE:  I know, master.

The tower begins to shake.  It as though every stone
has simultaneously lost its mortar.  The crew dance
about as the floor rises and falls as if on water,
but yet refuses to collapse while pushing against itself.

DESDINE:  In speaking of tucked away,

                      where is the Shadow's Heart?

The Shadow's Heart rises into view and hovers
a moment in the space of the window that the
Atlas made a hole in.  The loading ramp lowers
and Erimentha vaults everyone inside.

The small ship disappears into the sky as the
last straggler of the evacuation while the
tower tumbles into a pile of rubble.








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Scene 38: Free To Fall

Tulia and Rune ascend in the Shadow's Heart to be
met with a sky full of transports arriving for the evacuation.

TULIA:  Get in touch with those transports.

Rune's eyes are distant with terror.

TULIA:  Rune Starling, wake up.

        Get your head back.

RUNE:  What?

TULIA:  Raise the transports or

                   someone in the blockade.

RUNE:  What?  Why?

TULIA:  We're going to help with the evacuation.

I think this is what he wants.   

RUNE:  Who...?

TULIA:  Just do it.

RUNE:  Blockade control, this is civilian transport 

            ID 731743 requesting instructions on how

 to assist with the evacuation effort.

PILOT:  Civilian transport ID 731743, sending you 

              coordinates for an available landing zone.

RUNE:  Thank you.  I think.

TULIA:  We have an ID?

He's almost too preoccupied to answer.

RUNE:  I don't know.  

                         I just said something.

Police have created an open area on the street below,
but people are still desperately trying to push passed
them and are in danger of covering the ground
before the Shadow's Heart can touch down.

Tulia emerges at the loading ramp and amidst the
onrush of people she can only manage to deliver
the simple instruction for everyone to move all
the way to the back that they possibly can.

There are still more coming when
she has to close the door.

TULIA:  We're coming back.

She pushes her way to the cockpit
and assumes the co-pilot seat.

The Shadow's Heart slowly rises and
Tulia looks over noticing Rune's nervousness.

TULIA:  Hey.  They need all the help they can get.

                      There's no time for them to ask any questions.

He controls his breathing.

The Shadow's Heart draws closer
to what was the nearest cruiser.

OPERATOR:  Civilian transport ID 731743 we're ready 

                        to receive you.  Deck guides will lead you 

                      the furthest back there is room for you in 

            the launch bay where you will wait 

for further instructions.         

TULIA:  Negative.  Be advised, we're unloading 

                and heading back down again for more.

There's a pause.

Rune is incredulous.

OPERATOR:  Acknowledged, civilian transport 

         ID 731743.  Good luck. 

Tulia lowers the loading ramp again and
the people pour out.  She looks across
the way and sees other civilian transports
that parked like they were told.

She runs across to them and Rune
watches anxiously from the cockpit.

RUNE:  Where are you going?

To a captain.

TULIA:  Hey, what are you guys doing?

CAPTAIN:  They told us to stay put.

TULIA:  Those Republic transports are

too slow.  They need us all to keep

ferrying people back and forth.

CAPTAIN:  We don't have hyperdrives.

               If the cruisers decide to 

leave we're left.

TULIA:  At least we'll be giving the 

                    people on the surface a chance.

Tulia turns back to the Shadow's Heart.

The cargo captain watches
as she and the ship leaves.

CAPTAIN:  Ahhh!  Unload'em.  

                           We're heading out again.

The Shadow's Heart breaks through
the clouds returning in full force amidst
the cheers from the people in the streets.
Republic transport pilots crane their
necks in disbelief at the sight as
it passes them by.  And the ship
returns to the coordinates that
it was previously given.

A woman who was last left grabs
Tulia's arm at the base of the ramp.

WOMAN:  Thank you.

TULIA:  All the way to the back.

The Shadow's Heart ascends once more.

The roar of the engines reverberates within the stone walls of the tower.  Then it becomes drowned by the column of Lethchor smashing the drones above them while attempting to overwhelm their countermeasures with sheer volume.

In these early levels there are landings with an enclosed circle of rooms suspended on two stone bridges connecting to the stairs of the tower on each side.  Any one of these internal structures, lacking braces to reinforce them, should have fallen under the constant collisions and explosions.
But the walls do not so much as burn from a stray laser out of a drone's rifle or shoulder-mounted rockets that some carry with them.

The crew become pinned down by a barricade of drones at such a stair landing.  Aaron looks across the way to see Ross crouching in a doorframe near the front of the barricade.  Mesmerized, he begins to move toward him.

AARON:  Ross?

Erimentha pulls him back.

ERIMENTHA:  It's a trick of the eye.

              Ross is gone.

Ross vanishes and the drones with him.

Nicodemus steps onto the stone bridge and blazes
the minigun where the drones were standing and
momentarily reveals them again as the
bullets bounce off the cloak shield.

NICODEMUS:  Zayd-Neil has breached the tower.

                           Those drones have his protection.

  We need to move.

DESDINE:  Negative.  I will hold them here.

NICODEMUS:  You're compromised.

                         And you can't take 

             them all on.

DESDINE:  You are compromised.  If the Prestmoor 

                 sets the pace they will catch up to us.

                            He can no longer ascend.  If the Prestmoor 

          is left behind then he will die.  

I will stay with him.       

NICODEMUS:  Not a chance you're ditching me

                   before seeing this through.

DESDINE:  I do not care when we ditch you.

          But you are an effective asset

        that now lacks mobility.  

    I propose the two of us

can hold them here.

  The remainder should 

continue to ascend.  

ERIMENTHA:  We're too long in discussing this.

AARON:  Good luck.

Aaron, Erimentha and Esben continue up.

Nicodemus turns to Desdine.

NICODEMUS:  You really think we got a chance?

DESDINE:  The probability of being totaled

                   is high, but I am confident that

     I will be reassembled.

    I can't speak for you.

A light floods amidst the
doors creaking from below.

NICODEMUS:  Samael's getting pushed back.

         They're getting in.

DESDINE:  And darkness shall soon follow.

NICODEMUS:  Who programmed you?

DESDINE:  I wish I knew.

The light from outside disappears as the flood surges
up to meet them and Mr. Clemence's minigun
flashes out like so many firecrackers.

As Erimentha and her companions too are about to be
overwhelmed, Samael's column engulfs them, which
she produces a spherical shield against.  And they all
ride to the top of the tower and are deposited on the
edge of the circle platform as Samael stands
at the center with his back to them.

SAMAEL:  Do not be afraid.

                                  This will all soon be over.

AARON:  You're Samael?

ERIMENTHA:  He is the corruptor.

SAMAEL:  You have done well

                 to come this far.

AARON:  That doesn't seem to have

                had much to do with us.

SAMAEL:  No.

ERIMENTHA:  You failed.  Zayd-Neil 

                          betrayed the betrayer.

SAMAEL:  I promise you too will

                    become accustomed to

                      treachery.  All is as well

                    as I could have hoped.

ERIMENTHA:  You cannot hope to defeat 

                     a Chosen of the Order.

SAMAEL:  I never intended to.

A chrome painted drone steps out from the shadows

with Safe prominently inserted in its chest.

AARON:  Then why help her get here?

SAMAEL:  I wanted all of you, so there

                  could be no lies.  I wanted 

          witnesses to my death.

ERIMENTHA:  I don't understand.

SAMAEL:  I know.

AARON:  Why?

SAMAEL:  I cannot and would not stop

                     what is to come.  We all stand

                   in the shadow, on the eve of 

             the truth coming to light.

          And for that to happen

                    Zayd-Neil will kill me today.

ERIMENTHA:  You claim your innocence?

SAMAEL:  No.  That is not the point of this.

AARON:  If you're willing then come with us.

ERIMENTHA:  Aaron!?!

SAMAEL:  Mr. Miles, Aaron.  You have been touched.

                  And so now your fate is tangled with the 

               Order's.  May Erimentha see fit to spare 

your life as you would mine.     

ERIMENTHA:  I will destroy you and

                 Zayd-Neil both!

SAMAEL:  Indeed you may.

She launches an attack of golden light
and he raises a barrier of black blood.

SAMAEL:  But I will not hazard that on your soul.

Samael turns his head to the windows.

SAMAEL:  He's here.

The bow of the Atlas crashes through the windows
and the wind howls with the change in air pressure
as Zayd-Neil descends from the ship.

ZAYD-NEIL:  Given up, have you, Samael?

SAMAEL:  It appears so.

He eyes the three interlopers.

ZAYD-NEIL:  I think it's time your carefully

                   laid plans come to an end.

SAMAEL:  If you can manage it.

Zayd-Neil ignores the taunt and launches
a stream at the three standing a pace from
Samael who he shields behind
his own black blood barrier.

ZAYD-NEIL:  How interesting.

SAMAEL:  Your business is with me.

ZAYD-NEIL:  And I don't intend to leave

             anything unfinished.

                      Your pawns die with you.

Samael encases Zayd-Neil and himself in the
chamber's Lethchor, revealing the walls,
and the strike team is left to look on.
Aaron leans down to Erimentha.

AARON:  What do we do?

                                    Is there another side to this?

ERIMENTHA:  We've come too far.

                                        Esben, give me your sword.

Within the maelstrom, constantly casting black blood
shrouds both combatants in darkness, but both
always know where to strike while continuing
to block and evade.

Viewing from outside, lightning
flashes from within the tower.

The Shadow's Heart hovers near a crowd of Noclysis being held back from boarding Republic transports.  They make a hole on the street for the Shadow's Heart to land and Tulia emerges
as an officer is desperately explaining there is no more room on the current transports.

She sees Sweets' brother
and they lock eyes.

TULIA:  It's okay, we can take them.

Rune appears at the bottom of the ramp.

Tulia notes the infuriated look on his face
as she begins guiding the Noclysis inside.

RUNE:  We can't keep doing this.

TULIA:  There's not enough ships for 

just taking one trip.

RUNE:  We did our bit and then some.

              Look up there.  Do you think

                    anyone's coming back from that?

TULIA:  We have to assume our friends are.

RUNE:  They're all dead!  Ross, Sweets,

                  all of them.  Everyone we shipped

              out with is dead.  We don't owe

         these people.  We're square.

It's time to get while   

there's still getting.      

TULIA:  I'm not about that anymore.  Somewhere... 

        along the way.  Because we lost people 

   to all this.  They gotta come back so 

I have a chance of knowing           

what it all was.                               

RUNE:  We already know.  War's starting.

        Don't try to make sense of it.

TULIA:  This looks so much bigger.

RUNE:  It usually does.

TULIA:  There's still more people

                to get out from under it.

RUNE:  Make this the last run.

TULIA:  I can't do that.

RUNE:  Then I can't go with you.

TULIA:  Rune Starling?

He steps away from the Shadow's Heart loading ramp
and joins the throng boarding another batch of transports.

Tulia watches until the doors close him inside
and she turns toward the Shadow's Heart.

In the tower, Samael and Zayd-Neil continue to clash.  Esben and Aaron fire to no effect from outside the raging storm.  Samael's chrome drone marches up beside Erimentha.  Her hands glow, but then a rusty claw clasps the drone.  The chrome drone has the upper claw in strength and begins to push Desdine back, but the older model manages to reach under to rip Safe from his housing.
The chrome drone deactivates.

Desdine steps into the storm and begins
to be shaken apart despite the countermeasures.

Erimentha bolts into their midst with her
teleporting lightning and runs Samael
through from behind.

Samael seizes her arm and encases Erimentha
in body-forming darkness surviving a strike
from Zayd-Neil, which sends her sailing
out of the maelstrom even as the wind
begins to die and black blood disperses.

She rolls across the floor and slides on her stomach
where the Lethchor releases her in a puff of smoke.

Her breath stops at the sight of white light
emanating from Samael's wound.








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