Another Part of Me - A Prelude to World of Disney 3

The following mini-story is a continuation of one posted last year on May the 4th that can be read here.

 

Another Part of Me

            My name is Chrissy Ryder. Fourteen years ago on this very day…I thought I finally had my life back in order. A young female Jedi named Terr Essa made a promise to me that she would help in my “problem.” She promised that she would help me see my girls, Sierra and Sienna, again. She made promises that, until two days later, she wouldn’t be able to keep.

            Two days after I met her, Terr Essa and the other Jedi – including my daughters – were all exterminated. Chancellor Palpatine, who declared himself “Emperor” at the time, deemed them traitors to the Republic (now the “Galactic Empire”) after being attacked by one Jedi Master named Mace Windu.

            But I know the truth. The Jedi could never have been traitors. My daughters could never have been traitors. They were all killed in cold blood on orders by a corrupt man who is now in charge of the most of the galaxy. The order, the Clone Wars, and the promise of “peace” for the galaxy – it was all a lie that led to the inane deaths of my two girls. They were in the Jedi Temple with other Younglings at the time it was sieged by Darth Vader (Emperor Palpatine’s right-hand man) and an army of Clone Troopers.

            Had they not been, I’d still have them here with me tonight – all grown up and happy as they could be. Sure, they wouldn’t recognize me, but I’d nonetheless have them by my side.

            For fourteen years, I’ve faced the reality of losing my daughters along with my identity. I’ve fallen deep into despair, no longer the Star Tours engineer I was once. I’ve opted to wander the galaxy with my new “face,” the man I introduced to those I encounter as “Sean.” In the mirrors I’ve passed, I still see his face looking back at my real face – the one none but Terr Essa could see. It ages each year while mine remains young. I can’t begin to explain how it’s possible that he ages and I don’t. If Essa were still here, she’d know, or at least work with me to figure it out.

            I still cling to my Star Tours uniform, as it is the only part of my old life left, wearing it most days and keeping it in my pack most others. It still fits perfectly to my real physique but appears baggy in the chest area for Sean – a difference in physics due to my “condition” that I can’t begin to explain.

            Now, here I am, at the Outlander Club on Coruscant, drowning out my sorrows with glass after glass of “Wookiee-wango.” Despite several consumptions of the alcoholic beverage, I find myself unable to deliberately get drunk off it – another product of my “oh-so-wonderful curse.” It’s a bit of a letdown, considering it’s my first actual taste of alcohol but with none of the effects.

            As I sit alone at my booth and have my drink, I glance over the collection of characters hanging out in the club this evening, consisting of nothing more than gamblers and criminals. The only group who’s out of place is the band performing on the stage at the center of the club. They aren’t very well-known, going by the name “Captain EO and the Ragtags” and performing a song called “Another Part of Me.” Their beat is catchy, but they’re certainly no Max Zebo Band (who isn’t exactly up in the popularity status either).

            Just a handful of patrons are dancing along to the song, but everyone is otherwise ignoring the band to focus on games of sabacc and betting on such sports as podracing, nuna-ball, and Odupiendo racing, all displayed on telescreens around the club. It probably isn’t such a good idea performing in the Digisee Gaming Floor – where most public gambling takes place. I feel bad for the band though; their music has managed to lift at least one person’s spirits – mine.

            Yet I still cannot shake off this despair that has plagued my heart all these years. I miss my daughters now more than I ever did when they were with the Jedi. Looking back down at my glass, I see Sean’s slightly grayed, weathered, and bearded face gazing back at me in the mirror structure of the table. The only similitude between us being the deep depression we’re feeling. Locks of my messy deep red hair hang at adjacent sides of my face, drooped over the table. I brush them back behind my ears with my fingers; in my reflection, Sean merely brushes back short, curly strands of his black/grey hair.

            “Man…you look like hell.”

            The last thing I need right now is a critique on the appearance of my alter ego. Looking up, I see that my critic looks a little worse for wear herself – a woman with messy, shoulder-length dark brown hair with a few hints of grey in it, distinctive cheekbones, bright pink lips, pale skin tone, dark and slightly broaden eyebrows, and a slim yet toned frame. She wears a blue silk sweater that is slightly tattered and hung off her body, exposing her bare shoulders and tight clavicle muscles, as well as a maroon miniskirt with blue pants worn beneath and knee-high, high-heeled brown boots.

            Without even asking, she takes the half-full glass of Wookiee-wango from me and gulps it down before sitting down at the booth and pouring herself another shot from the bottle that the bartender was generous enough to give me. As she sits, I can see that there’s a gun belt she’s wearing around her waist with two lightsaber hilts attached to it.

            For the first time in fourteen years, I am filled with a sense of hope that comes through my voice when I ask her, “Are you a Jedi?”

            She shakes her head and answers after a loud gulp, “Nope.”

            I feel dejected at first, but then caution takes over. “So…you’re a Sith?” I know that I put myself at risk of dying by one of those sabers if she were in fact one. None of the scum that hang out in this club will come to my aid either.

            “Nope. Not a Sith either.” She tells me.

            Relief comes over me, hearing this. Yet, I’m still confused as to who and more particularly what she is.

            “I’m something far more powerful than both.” She says. “My name is Adrienne…and I’m a Guardian.”

            “Guardian of what?”

            “Just plain Guardian…for now.”

            It’s a title I’m unfamiliar with, unless it’s applied to a branch. Frankly, it matters none to me. All that I care about is if she can help me or not. And I make this known to her as I ask if she could. “There was a Jedi I turned to years ago for my…problem,” I tell her. “Now she’s dead… I have no one.”

            “Why else do you think I’m sitting in front of you now?” She says after another gulp of Wookiee-wango (she seems invulnerable to its effects just as I am). “I know all about your lil’ identity crisis. It took me a while, but after the merge, I put two and two together and realized something was missing: that link between two of us…that glorious missing link.”

            She might as well have been talking in riddles. “Merges? Missing links? What does anything of that have to do with me?”

            “Because you are the lost reincarnation of a man named Sean Thomas.”

            That stern look she’s had the entire conversation tells me that she’s not joking about this. Like a droid trying to solve a complicated scenario, I’ve ran through all possible causes for my “condition,” from hypnosis to the effects of a gas leak. But I never once considered “reincarnation” a possibility, mainly because it’s impossibility. It brings up more questions than answers – a couple of which that I have to ask Adrienne: “How is that possible? Who is this Sean Thomas?”

            She shrugs and admits, “I’m still vague on the specifics, which is why we have to search for a man named Yen Sid. Once I show you to him, he’ll give us all the answers we need.”

            My heart is once again filled with immense faith as she assures me of this, yet there’s still much I need to know to satisfy my curiosity. “Yen Sid,” I mutter the name of this wise man who is the supposed answer to my problem. He sounds like a Jedi who possibly survived the purge. Maybe he’s the one who gave her those sabers attached to her belt. “How will we find this Yen Sid?”

            She finishes off what I believe to be her last glass of Wookiee-wango before sharing her idea with me. “It’s all part of my impossible plan.”

            Impossible plan? I already don’t like the sound of this.

            “We infiltrate the Empire’s new orbital battle station, the Death Star. You’ve heard of it?”

            I reply with a nod. “Why do we need to infiltrate it? Is Yen Sid being held prisoner there?”

            Adrienne shakes her head. “The Empire has recently discovered a mysterious object in the far reaches of the galaxy. They intend to use it as a weapon just as powerful as the Death Star. This object is our key to finding Yen Sid.”

            I dare not to question how or where she managed to gain this top-secret information. The Empire wouldn’t be so stupid to let it get out. Then again, with rumors of a rebellion developing somewhere in the galaxy, I’m not too surprised how easily this type of information gets leaked.

            “So,” Adrienne says, “knowing how dangerous it is, are you still willing to go through with the impossible mission to get your answers?”

            “Yes.” I waste no time in assenting. There’s no need to think twice about my decision, because it was clear what I wanted to do the moment she pitched her “impossible plan” to me. Even if I am to die in this, it’s not like I’ll leave anything behind. With no family, no friends, and no job, I have nothing to lose.

            Before we could have a chance to settle our agreement with a handshake, we’re interrupted by two Imperial Stormtroopers who approach our booth without notice. Their focus is directly on Adrienne, which one of them makes obvious when he tells her, “Come with us quietly. We have a warrant for your arrest.”

            Arrest? Oh, boy.

            The sight of these white-armored, faceless enforcers standing over us with their blaster rifles held firmly at their chest plates makes my body tremble. Neither of them are looking in my direction – I might as well have been invisible to them; their focus is solely on Adrienne, who appears less intimidated than I do. In fact, she is smirking rather wickedly at the Troopers, as if they matter none to her.

            “The only way you’re prying my cheeks from this seat is if we do it…by force,” she boldly tells them.

            Her snide remark prompts the Troopers to aim their blaster rifles at her. They seem ready to shoot until both of them are suddenly lifted off their feet by some unseen force and hover high in the air, flailing their arms and legs about. I know right away that it’s Adrienne who’s doing this – and she’s doing it without lifting a finger. It’s a trick I’ve heard that Jedi are notorious for doing and to see it in person is quite amazing.

            But then something happens that I’ve never seen any Jedi (or Sith for that matter) ever do that Adrienne does to these poor souls. A bright yellow light emerges from beneath the Stormtroopers’ armors, and they react in remarkable agony to whatever it is that she’s doing to them, clutching their heads and sides. Before I could have a moment to take in what’s happening, the Troopers’ bodies evaporate, leaving no remains of them.

            It was a horrifying execution that confirms my suspicion of whether Adrienne is a Jedi or Sith – she’s something far more powerful than both, as she said.

            “I did warn them how they would have to use force…it just wasn’t their kind of force,” she says with a devilish grin.

            Unfortunately, her little show doesn’t go unnoticed by everyone in the club. All activity ceases for a short moment before the cutthroats declare that it’s no business of theirs and return to their undertakings.

            “We’d better go before more Troopers show up.” I suggest, after the thought suddenly occurred to me, and we immediately get up from our booth, rushing towards the exit.

            Neither of us knew it beforehand but there are already more Troopers patrolling the club, and they pursue us as soon as they manage to track our movements. They see us and we see them across the stage where EO and his band are still playing, albeit rather timidly. For a moment, my eyes meet with Captain EO’s. And, from the look of pity on his face, I can tell how much he wants to help.

            I turn away from the band leader and continue in my escape with Adrienne. The Troopers are practically closer to the exit than we are, making an escape fruitless. In our rush, I hear EO tell his band to “pump up the music,” and they play quite a strong, rhythmic beat. I guess he doesn’t have that much pity for us than I thought, if he’s concerned only with strengthening their performance.

            Adrienne and I are just a second away from colliding with the pursuing Troopers before something rather spectacular happens. A beam of golden energy is fired from somewhere in the club, striking the Troopers and sending their bodies smashing into nearby telescreens. A group of gamblers afterward express their distain of being unable to watch their podracing game, due to the incident.

            Looking to see where the beam had come from, we see Captain EO with his arms and hands outstretched towards the spot in which the crash occurred. It was he who saved us through some incredible, mythic power that comes through the music his band plays. Having dealt with the Troopers, he looks to Adrienne and me and smiles.

            “Thanks, Michael!” I hear Adrienne shout over my right shoulder.

            “You’re welcome,” EO says before adding, “but that’s not my name!”

            Finally in the clear, Adrienne and I run out of the Outlander Club. But we quickly discovered that, while we were clear of any Troopers inside the club, outside is a totally different story. Waiting for us there is a platoon of Stormtroopers, each and every one with their guns aimed at their heads as they surround us and demand for our immediate surrender. With no other choice, we raise our hands up high and comply with their request.

            Feeling absolutely defeated, I look to Adrienne, who I’m certain is just as displeased with this sudden change of events. But I see her grinning at me, like she anticipated being arrested for her “impossible plan.” And then, just from seeing that grin, the truth dawns on me: it is part of her impossible plan.

 

To Be Continued in World of Disney 3 this December!