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A Forgotten Conflict 2000 short story by
Jonathan Hicks 1005 years before Episode IV -
A New Hope The water ebbing and flowing on the beach was a
dark red. The foam that swept up and down the sand seemed to be the froth on
a macabre ale, and with each new crashing wave another body was sucked out
into the depths. The whole beach was littered with such scenes.
Where the water could not reach the small flying reptiles were doing the work
of cleaning the dead from the sand, cawing and screeching as if making sure
the forms had truly expired before pecking at flesh and gorging themselves. The day was bright with a smattering of wispy
cloud, a fine day that was disturbed by a slight breeze coming in from the
ocean. The almost-dead trees rustled softly, echoing the swooshing of the waves on the coast. Over a thousand men and women lay out across the
beach, each with their own tale of how they met their end to tell any that
found them. Their bodies were in the trees and then piled up as one walked to
the edge of the ocean, sometimes three or four deep. Some bodies were
incomplete, with limbs or chunks of flesh missing. Some were caressed by the
moving water, rolling over in a parody of making themselves more comfortable
in the sun. Banners planted into the sand fluttered lazily, as if tired from
the slaughter. The waves crashed. The reptiles screeched. The sun
beat down and all was quiet. Until a man’s voice rose to claim the serenity.
Reptiles scattered as a brown-cloaked figure burst from behind a smoking
shuttle littered with corpses, the glowing blade of his lightsabre turning
aside a blow from another figure who was forcing him back with a similar
weapon. The second figure was encased head to foot in blue
so dark it was almost black that seemed to drink in the sunlight. The
clothing was practical and so undecorated on both combatants, although each
was made slightly different to suit the tastes of the wearer. All they shared
was a coating of blood and the desire to kill the other. Blue was down on one knee now, but as Brown lifted
his blade for another blow he caught his heel in the frame of the shuttle,
throwing him off-balance and, overstepping his attack, he stumbled past Blue
and nearly fell. Blue saw his chance and rammed the butt of his
weapon against Brown’s back, pushing him further forward so he had to
virtually leap over a pile of dead. He staggered to his feet and swung
overhead at Brown with a roar. There were flashes of light that overpowered
the sun’s rays as the two lightsabres met. His push had sent Brown staggering, and his roar
alerted Brown of the impending blow, so Brown went with the movement and
flung himself over the bodies of the fallen. Dead in brown lying over dead
dressed in dark blue. The sabre swung down and landed in the chest of one
of the fallen with a flare of sparks.
Blue cursed and tried to move forward before Brown got up into a fighting
stance. The waves crashed. The reptiles screeched. Weariness assaulted their limbs, aches and bruises
and minor wounds screamed out for respite but they would not stop. They were
the last two men on the beach, and they would not rest until there was only
one. Brown had already turned into Blue’s attack and
turned the blow aside with his weapon. There was another crunch as another body was mutilated. Dead eyes seemed not to
care. Brown stepped back, breathing heavily and glaring
at Blue, who readied his weapon and advanced slowly, drawing every inch of
strength he had left for a final assault. Spittle ran from his grin as Blue stepped over the
corpses at his feet, many of which he had helped decorate the sand with. “Let us
finish this, Jedi,” he said between gasps. Although the hood that covered his
face appeared heavy he was loath to remove it. Brown held his blade with both hands and readied himself.
He knew he had a broken bone somewhere in his chest and it was making any
torso movement painful. He gritted his teeth and snarled. “Yes,
Bedois, finish it. Finish it.” They stood regarding each other, Brown ready for
the certain attack from Blue. During the pause the flying reptiles had
resumed their feasting, landing in their droves to eat. The waves crashed. The reptiles screeched. Blue advanced, his weapon sliding through his
hands as he raised it with a deep roar that sent the reptiles to flight in a
cacophony of sound. He lurched forward, certain his heavy blow would smash
through Brown’s defence and finish the conflict. But as Blue had raised his weapon, Brown had
leaped forward and dropped to one knee. Blue had already begun his attack and
the arc of the weapon and the fatigue in his limbs forced him to continue.
Brown, now inside the killing arc of the lightsabres chop, placed the palm of
his hand on the pommel of the weapon and pushed up and hard. The blade went
under Blue’s robes and continued through, leather padding, flesh and bone to
connect with the back and go no further. The weapon, deactivated, fell from
Blue’s hands as he staggered forward, eyes wide with disbelief and fixed grin
open in a silent scream, and he somehow managed to stagger back. Brown pulled
hard and the weapon came free. Blue, wanting to scream but only managing a
weak gurgle, fell to his knees and tried to speak, some last words that he
could cast at Brown in defiance. All he managed to do was cough violently. He
then fell forward and lay still. Brown, Jedi Knight of the Republic, stared down at
his vanquished foe Blue, the last of the Bedois. He looked at the body of the
alien who, like the rest of his race, had found the dark side of the force.
The whole planet seemed to reek with the dark side and the Republic, upon
discovering the Bedois were threatening the rest of the galaxy with war had
sent a veritable army of Jedi Knights to stop them. The Bedois, whilst not
Sith Lords as the Jedi Council had feared, were a dangerous foe nonetheless. The Jedi’s grin was spread over his hardened face,
his shoulder length hair was tied into a topknot and the rough growth of
greying beard on his square jaw glistened with sweat. His grin widened as his foe didn’t move. His grip
on his still gleaming lightsabre tightened as he stared at the body. “Victory,” he whispered through gritted
teeth. He laughed once, a burst of maniacal glee that seemed out of place at
this scene of death. The waves crashed. The reptiles screeched. He raised his weapon into the air and looked to
the sky for absolution.
“Victory!” he shouted, a mixture of ecstasy and relief washing over
him. “Victory!” he roared louder, his chest
screaming with agonised protest but his elation ignoring the pain. The
reptiles circled him, wary of his movement and his shouting, only dropping to
the beach well away from the solitary figure. “Victory!” he shouted again, both arms
in the air as if entreating the spirits of the clouds to come and join his
celebration. Blood ran down his arm and into his robes. The Jedi dropped his arms to share his joy with
others, to hold his compatriots in thanks, to laugh and boast and celebrate
with his heroes and his brothers and sisters.... His face of joy melted away as he looked at the
beach around him, seemingly for the first time. He looked at the bodies of
the fallen with mild shock, the expanse of the slaughter and, most
disturbingly, he noticed how no one joined his cry of jubilation. He suddenly
realised that he should not be feeling this kind of jubilation and wondered
if he, too, had found the dark side. The reptiles started to settle around him as he
stood immobile, allowing the pain to enter his limbs and the grief start to
grow in his belly. They watched him as he stood as a statue, his
lightsabre held fiercely in his hand as he beheld the sight before him. The reptiles resumed their feeding. The saltwater ebbed and flowed. The story had begun. A Forgotten Conflict 2000 short story by
Jonathan Hicks 1005 years before Episode IV -
A New Hope Histories - Taking place
early on in the history of the Setnin
Sector, this Jonathan Hicks tale tells of the
final two warriors in the tumultuous Jedi/Bedois battle on the world of Bedois, later known as Alganar III. While having no recognisable
characters, A Forgotten Conflict is important in that it shows that Arcc Nedeen, the last surviving
Bedois was in fact already off planet at the time of the last sabre battle. |