Republic Reigns: Star Wars Fanfiction.

Chapter 1: Who Are You?

FILO POV:

The endless choking vacuum of space was my only home growing up. A young Kel Dor from the planet Bandomeer in the Hydian Way with nothing to my name. The Galactic Republic continued expanding its greedy influence on what they deemed the 'frontier'. Out here, the laws and protection of the Core rarely apply apparently...if you asked me, they were the same looters and mega corps they claimed to fight.

My clan wandered nomadically on our aging freighter, salvaging what we could among the luminaries. I passed the days gazing out viewports as stars streaked by, wondering what adventure each new system might bring. Yet excitement remains a rare blessing amidst the hardscrabble boredom and peril we constantly face--no fuel and rare aid were our only solace.

We avoided conflict when possible, but run-ins with Weequay pirates and Hutt mercenaries happened all too often for my geriatric and sickly parents. They saw us as effortless marks to mock and terrorize. I tired long ago of watching my dad beg at their feet simply so we might scrape by with another day of life for us. The boundary is an unforgiving teacher at times yet the republic only cared for its resources...not people like us.

During brief surface raids for resources, my blade and survival skills saved us from starvation on numerous stretches. An incident where I had pulled--using 'the Force'--my father from a canyon ledge on some backwater planet near Dantooine, had continued developing my parents' drive to seek out anyone who said they were a Jedi. We had nearly been killed by a gang of Mandalorians trying to trap young force sensitives only a few days ago and they still chattered on, asking me to move out empty blasters back and forth in the rickety starship.

My parents franticly squabbled about whether to sell my potential to the Jedi order or keep me working just for our family to be fed for another cycle. Neither choice appealed much --I preferred charting my own destiny but lacked any agency in my short 16 years of life. Our aging ship was often on the verge of system failures, making close calls the norm.

So when the light flickered ominously on our cramped bridge recently before the hyperdrive went dead, I took it as just another bout of distress calls praying we could fight off who came to our aid all the way out here.

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My clan's dingy Kel Dorian vessel floated dead in space after its hyperdrive failure, life support flitting, I sat anxiously waiting adrift in the Outer Rim. I watched my parents argue over scrambling communications for what felt like eons when suddenly a small republic spacecraft arrived from hyperspace. Detecting our distress call most likely, my leathery hands tensed as my senses began to scream at me.

The mixture of my parent's constant arguing and the itchy antiox mask on my face fried my nerves more than anything, I began to run my fingers through my small black tusks for a moment. I touched a ragged scar over my right eye thinking again back to the time when I felt the cold metal sting of the local pirate captain's blade in a similar situation.

I held my breath as a pointy luxury starship listed toward ours, a slow yet purposed manner made it slightly forboding though it was marked as a Republican craft. My father franticly signaled for the shining ship to dock with ours through a flickering Holocron. The figure displayed was hooded with her black chin markings barely visible from underneath. A Jedi? out here?