The wroshyr tree loomed above us, its bark gnarled like the knuckles of a warrior who'd fought too long, its roots clawing into Kashyyyk's black soil as if to anchor the world itself. Sunlight stabbed through the canopy, golden spears slicing the shadowed grove, their glow catching motes of dust that danced like tiny stars. The air was thick with the musk of damp earth and resin, sharp enough to sting my lungs, and somewhere in the distance, a Wookiee's bellow rolled through the leaves, a primal hymn that shuddered in my chest. I stood there, boots grinding against the rough bark, the weight of every eye pressing into me like a physical force. Juno faced me, her presence a blade wrapped in silk, and I felt the galaxy shrink to this moment, this breath.
It was 2 ABY, or so the holocron's ticking calendar claimed. Time felt slippery on Kashyyyk, as if the trees themselves hoarded it, their rings swallowing years like secrets. We'd fled here after Dantooine's scars, Fett's raid, Vader's shadow still clawing at my soul. The homestead we'd rebuilt from my father's ruin was a half-kilometer off, its durasteel and wood a stubborn stand against the past. But this grove, this sacred scar in the forest, was where we'd bind our lives. My robes, threadbare, patched from battles I'd rather forget, whispered against my skin as a breeze stirred, sweat beading under my collar. Juno wore a dress that was half-pilot's leather, half-ceremonial weave, her blonde hair catching the light like a defiant halo. Her eyes, fierce and steady, held me like a tractor beam, and I couldn't look away.
PROXY stood to my left, his optic flickering, his droid frame polished to a sheen that caught the sun. "I must say, Master, this is highly irregular," he chirped, his voice a metallic hum of mock indignation. "My programming includes combat simulations, not matrimonial protocols." I shot him a glance, the corner of my mouth twitching. "Stand there and look loyal, PROXY. You're doing fine." He tilted his head, servos whirring, and I swear I saw a glint of humor in his optic. Talis Vorn slouched nearby, the Twi'lek smuggler's lekku twitching as he leaned against a root, a flask dangling from his fingers. His rebel jacket was scuffed, the red of his skin stark against the grove's greens and browns. "Didn't peg you for the marrying type, Starkiller," he drawled, his voice all gravel and spice-smoke. "Thought you'd be slicing Imperials forever." I snorted, the sound rough in my throat. "Even titans rest, Talis." He grinned, sharp and knowing, and took a swig, the tang of Corellian rotgut cutting through the air.
A Wookiee elder, her fur silvered and matted, stepped forward, her presence a mountain. Her name was Rrawthka, her eyes deep with the weight of centuries. She raised her arms, and the grove fell silent, the rustle of leaves and the hum of insects swallowed by her authority. Her growl was low, resonant, a chant that vibrated the ground beneath my boots, and the other Wookiees, five of them, their fur braided with beads, joined in, their voices a thunder that rattled my ribs. The sound was Kashyyyk itself, raw and unbroken, and I felt it stir something in me, a memory of my father's hand on my shoulder, his whispered, "Be strong, Galen." I gripped Juno's hands, her calluses rough against my own, and my breath hitched, a tremor shaking my chest. The Force pulsed between us, a warm current that stung my palms, and I saw it in her eyes, a flicker of the same storm that churned in me. "You pulled me from the abyss," I said, my voice cracking like dry timber, each word a weight I'd carried too long. "When Vader's shadow swallowed me, your light held firm. I vow to stand with you, in peace or storm, until the Force claims me." The words burned my throat, memories flashing: crimson sabers snarling, Jedi blood on my hands, the Death Star's sterile glow as I fell. But her touch anchored me, her fingers tightening, and I felt the past loosen its grip.
Juno's eyes glistened, but her jaw was set, her voice a blade wrapped in silk. "We've defied death, Galen," she said, her tone fierce, unyielding. "I swear to fight for us, for this life we've carved, with every breath." Her words were a lifeline, and I saw the woman who'd flown the Rogue Shadow through hell, who'd stood by me when I was more weapon than man. The Force flared, a golden haze crackling around us, and I felt our minds brush, the most profound connection in the Force I'd ever feel. Rrawthka's chant peaked, a roar that shook the canopy, leaves raining down like confetti. We knelt, foreheads touching, and the Force ignited, a tide that surged through us, warm and electric. The grove seemed to breathe, the wroshyr's roots pulsing beneath us, and I saw it, a flicker of our future, a child with Juno's eyes, the Force alive in her. The vision faded, but the warmth lingered, and I pressed my lips to Juno's, her taste salt and fire, the galaxy falling away until it was just us, just this.
The Wookiees erupted, their howls a joyous thunder, fists pounding their chests. Talis laughed, a sharp bark, and raised his flask. "To the Starkiller and his bride!" he shouted, and PROXY's optic blinked rapidly, as if struggling to process the chaos. Juno laughed, the sound bright and free, and I felt my chest loosen, a weight I hadn't named lifting. We stood, hands still clasped, and the grove was alive, the air thick with sap and song, the sun's glow a promise we'd fight to keep.
The lights still above me oppress their blinding curse as I struggle to retain my awareness of that familiar hum of a power that lives outside the Force. Noises and smells that resemble a medical ward fill my senses before the familiar black swallowed me again.
Eight years slipped, the homestead was our world, its walls of durasteel and wroshyr wood a stubborn stand against the galaxy's pull. The hearth's amber flicker painted shadows across the floor, their dance a quiet rhythm against the evening's hush. Outside, Kashyyyk's canopy murmured, the sky bruising purple as night sank its claws into the world. The air was heavy with the scent of burning logs and Wookiee herbs, bitter, medicinal, clinging to my throat like a memory of battle. I paced the worn planks, my boots scuffing a trench, the Force churning in my gut, a storm I couldn't tame.
Juno gripped the bedframe, her knuckles white, her gasps cutting the air like blaster bolts. Sweat streaked her brow, her hair plastered to her skin, and I brushed it back, the salt of it sharp on my tongue. "You're doing this, Juno," I said, my voice rough, fraying at the edges. "You're stronger than anyone I've ever known." She shot me a look, half-glare, half-smile, her breath hitching. "Flattery won't help, Galen," she gasped, but her hand found mine, her grip fierce, and I felt her strength, unyielding as ever. The medical droid, a battered 2-1B we'd scavenged from a rebel outpost, hummed, its metal arms clicking as it moved, the antiseptic sting of its tools biting my nostrils. Its voice was flat, mechanical. "Contractions are at optimal intervals. Delivery imminent." I wanted to smash it, to silence its cold precision, but Juno's hand tightened, anchoring me. I knelt beside her, my free hand on her shoulder, the Force pulsing through me, a desperate prayer for her safety.
Then, a cry, high and fierce, split the quiet. It was a sound that cracked my soul open, raw and alive, flooding the room like a supernova. Sera. Our daughter had arrived. The droid lifted her, her tiny chest heaving, skin slick with birth, and I took her, my hands trembling, her warmth searing my palms. She was so small, so fragile, yet her weight was an anchor, heavier than any saber I'd wielded. Her eyes, Juno's eyes, blinked up at me, and I felt the Force ripple, a delicate surge radiating from her, like a star waking in the dark. "She's here," Juno whispered, her voice frayed, a sob breaking through as she reached out, fingers shaking. I knelt, Sera cradled against my chest, her heartbeat a drum against my ribs. "She's perfect," I choked out, tears blurring my vision, the taste bitter and sweet on my lips. "I feel her, Juno, the Force, alive in her." My words cracked, the weight of fatherhood a vibroblade to my heart, joy and fear clashing in my throat. Juno smiled, exhausted, radiant, her hand brushing Sera's cheek. "She's ours," she murmured, "strong like you, stubborn like me."
The hearth popped, a spark flaring, and I stared at Sera, the galaxy shrinking to this room, this breath. The Force hummed, a gentle tide, and I saw it, a flicker of her future, a green saber flaring, her laughter bright as the sun. The vision faded, but the warmth lingered, and I handed Sera to Juno, her arms trembling as she held her. The droid's whir faded, leaving only our ragged breathing and Sera's gurgles, the room thick with unspoken promises. I stood, my chest tight, and stepped to the window, the cool glass pressing against my palm. Outside, Kashyyyk was still, the canopy a shadowed sea, the stars piercing the sky like blaster bolts frozen in time. I felt Juno's gaze, her love a steady pulse in the Force, and I turned back, their faces, Juno's fierce, Sera's fragile, etched into my soul. This was our sanctuary, our defiance against the dark, and I'd burn the galaxy to keep it.
I blinked to imprint the image before in my mind, Sera's tiny form in Juno's arms, the hearth's glow painting them in amber, a star born in Kashyyyk's dusk, only to open my eyes, 15 years later. The Rogue Shadow's hull loomed above me, its durasteel skin scarred from battles I'd tried to bury, a relic of rebellion now tethered to this quiet life. It was 25 ABY, and the forest clearing a kilometer from our homestead buzzed with the hum of the ship's stabilizers, the air thick with the musk of wroshyr sap and the tang of scorched metal. My hands were slick with grease, the hydrospanner's cold weight biting my palm, sweat beading on my brow as the dusk sky bruised purple overhead. Wookiee roars rolled in the distance, a pulse of life that stirred the leaves, their rustle a soft hymn against the engine's drone.
PROXY stood beside me, his optic flickering like a star caught in the canopy, his frame polished to a sheen that caught the fading light. "Master, Sera has grown strong," he said, his metallic voice warm with something close to pride. "Her saber form rivals yours at her age." I wiped my hands on my tunic, the fabric rough against my skin, a faint smile cracking my lips. "She's got Juno's passion too, PROXY. That's what will make her unstoppable." The words felt heavy, a truth carved from years of watching Sera grow, her green saber flaring in training, her laughter bright as the sun. "Indeed," PROXY replied, tilting his head, servos whirring. "A formidable combination, if I may say." He paused, his optic scanning the ship's console. "Master, this hydrospanner is inadequate for the stabilizer calibration. The phase calibrator is still back at the homestead."
I nodded, tossing the tool into a crate, its clank sharp in the quiet. "Keep up with the repairs without me, PROXY. I'll be back." My boots crunched on the forest floor as I turned, the path to the homestead a familiar scar through the wroshyr roots. PROXY's voice softened, a rare gentleness in his circuits. "Yes, Master." The walk was a ritual, the forest's embrace as familiar as my own breath. Wroshyr trees towered like cathedral spires, their bark twisted and scarred, warm under my fingers as I brushed past. The air was heavy with resin, stinging my nostrils, the ground soft with leaves that crunched beneath my boots. Stars pierced the canopy, their light like blaster bolts frozen in time, and a distant Wookiee chant rumbled through the dusk, a low growl that vibrated my ribs. My thoughts drifted, Sera's saber clashing with mine, Juno's hand in my hair, the homestead's hearth a beacon of everything we'd fought for. Fifteen years, and the galaxy's shadows had faded, held at bay by this refuge.
Halfway there, a hum in the Force turned to a scream. A chill clawed down my spine, the Force coiling like a serpent, and a vision flashed: blood pooling, plasma searing. Smoke rose from the homestead's chimney, too dark, too thick, and there, in the clearing, squatted Slave I, its engines a low growl, its durasteel hull a predator's silhouette against the dusk. My heart pounded, a drum against my ribs, and I slammed through the homestead's door, wood splintering under my shoulder, the coppery stench of blood choking my lungs. Boba Fett stood in the center, his Mandalorian armor glinting like a blade, a vibroblade pressed to Sera's throat, a thin red line welling beneath it. Her green saber lay dim on the floor, its kyber crystal silent, her eyes wide with fear, blood trickling from a graze on her arm. Juno knelt nearby, durasteel cuffs biting her wrists, but her fingers worked the lock, subtle and fierce, her rebel instincts a second nature that wouldn't die. Her blaster rested useless across the room, its barrel charred from a desperate stand.
My sabers ignited, twin blue plasmas roaring to life, their hum a symphony of rage that shook the air. "Fett, you bastard, not here, not them!" I snarled, my voice raw, cracking like dry timber, the Force crackling around me, hot and wild. Fett's helmet tilted, his vocoder cold as a grave. "Kylo Ren wants your name erased, Starkiller. The First Order's bounty may have been what brought me here, but Kamino's revenge will finally be mine." Juno's eyes flashed, her voice a blade wrapped in defiance. "Vader's been dead for 20 years, Fett. Let her go!" Her fingers snapped the cuffs, the durasteel clattering to the floor, but she held still, her gaze locked on Sera, her body coiled like a spring.
Fett's grip tightened, the vibroblade glinting, and Sera's breath hitched, her chest heaving. "Move, and she's dead," he spat, his voice a low growl through the helmet. "This ends tonight, Starkiller." My hands trembled, the sabers' weight a chain, rage and fear clashing in my gut. The Force was a storm, its heat searing my veins, but Sera's eyes, Juno's eyes, held me, pleading, terrified. I saw our wedding, the wroshyr grove's golden haze, Juno's vow, "I swear to fight for us"; I saw Sera's birth, her tiny form radiating light, my promise, "I'll keep you safe." Now, the homestead was frozen in time, its wroshyr walls bearing witness, the Marek crest above the hearth stained with ash. "You'll burn for this, Fett," I choked, my voice a broken thing, the words tearing my throat.
Sera's gaze met mine, and the Force surged, a fierce ripple radiating from her. Her cuffs snapped, durasteel shattering like glass, and she lunged, her green saber flaring with a trembling hum, its plasma arcing toward Fett. She was brave, untested, her movements raw but fueled by instinct, a prodigy's fire in her veins. But Fett was a predator, his decades of killing honed to a razor's edge. He pivoted, the vibroblade plunging through her chest with a wet crunch, blood gushing, a crimson tide that soaked the planks. She crumpled, her saber clattering, its light snuffed, her body a small, broken heap in the hearth's dying glow.
"Sera!" My scream split my soul, the Force bursting outward, a wave that cracked the walls, glass raining down like tears. Juno screamed, a raw wound, and charged, her cuffs gone, her rebel ferocity unleashed. She was a blur, bare-handed, fierce, aiming for Fett's throat, but his blaster fired mid-jetpack leap, a plasma bolt tearing through her femoral artery. Crimson sprayed, warm and sticky, soaking the floor, and she staggered, her breath a ragged gasp, her hands clawing at the wound. My sabers slashed, their plasma roaring, a tempest of blue fire that carved the air. Fett's jetpack hummed, his bolts forcing me back, their hiss searing my ears, one grazing my arm, flesh sizzling, the pain a distant echo. Slave I's cannons thundered on the home we've built over decades, their blasts shaking the wroshyr roots, smoke and fire flooding the clearing. Fett vanished into the dusk, his silhouette a specter against the sky, the growl of his ship fading like a banshee's wail.
I dropped my sabers, their hum dying as they fell beside Juno, my hands pressing her wound, blood slick and warm between my fingers. The Force poured from me, a desperate tide, but it slipped like sand, her life draining faster than I could hold. "Live… Galen… Survive…" she whispered, her voice fraying, her grip weak on my arm. Her eyes, fierce even now, held mine, a final anchor. "Don't," I choked, tears burning, their salt bitter on my lips. "Not you, not both of you." My hands trembled, the Force a broken thing, my heart screaming, "I can't lose you." "For Sera… for us…" Her breath stilled, her eyes dimming, and before I could muster the words to respond, she was gone, her weight heavy in my arms, emptiness where my lifeline had been.
I turned to Sera, her small form cold beside her dim saber, blood pooling beneath her, the coppery stench choking me. I cradled them both, Juno's hair tangled in my fingers, Sera's hand limp in mine, their faces, Juno's fierce, Sera's fragile, etched into my soul. The homestead was an abattoir, its walls charred, the hearth snuffed by ash and ruin. Flames licked the wroshyr beams, sparked by Slave I's cannon fire, their heat searing my skin, the crackle of burning wood a dirge that drowned the forest's silence. Smoke stung my eyes, thick with the scent of sap and destruction, the Marek crest above the hearth consumed by fire, its carved hope reduced to embers. My scream shook the forest, a raw, primal thing, the Force pulsing wildly, cracking the beams, the wroshyr roots trembling as if Kashyyyk itself wept.
I held them, time stretching, the world fading to their absence. The stars outside were cold, indifferent, their light a cruel lie. I'd built a sanctuary, a defiance against the dark, and it burned around me, the flames a mirror to my grief. Fett's vendetta, Kylo Ren's erasure, they'd taken everything. My chest heaved, sobs tearing my throat, the Force a black hole swallowing me whole. I closed my eyes in agony, if only to embrace the death that waited, to be with them again, their light calling me through the inferno.
The lab snaps back, and I gasp, my body trembling on the table. The pain is receding now, replaced by a strange clarity. My heart steadies, each beat stronger, more natural. The cybernetics hum softly, no longer foreign but part of me, like the Force itself. The sharp-voiced woman's words cut through: "Neural integration complete. He's stabilizing." The blue-skinned one steps closer, her gaze piercing. "Galen, can you hear me?" I force my eyes open fully, the world sharp and real. The sterile scent of the lab, the faint buzz of machinery, the new weight of body, it's all here, undeniable. My mind is a storm of memories, triumphs and traumas woven together, but I'm still here. The Force stirs within, faint but alive, a spark that refuses to die. "I… hear you," I rasp, my voice raw but certain.
The dark-haired woman exhales, a flicker of relief crossing her face. The blue-skinned one nods, her expression unreadable but intense. "Good, you're back amongst the living," she says, and I sense the weight of her words and light jest, the stakes of this moment. I'm alive, and the Force still flows in me. The question lingers, who am I now? Yet as my strength returns, I know I'll face it, just as I faced Vader, the Empire, and my own demons. A shadow moves at the edge of my vision, a familiar shape that sharpens into focus, a figure, battle-worn, eyes like tempered steel. "Welcome to the Milky Way, Marek." A voice cuts through like a sniper's bolt, steady and sure that I'd recognize anywhere, it's Shepard.
THE END