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Literature Text
The Imperial Customs agent had seen many odd things in her day, from Wookiees in slave cages singing defiant hymns in guttural roaring fashion to Hapans draped in jewelry and illegal weaponry parading about decks, with any number of forms of contraband and substances between. She'd seen as many odd characters, alien and human alike. She was a hardened veteran and nothing surprised her anymore.
She dropped her datapad in bewildered surprise, looking around the ship she'd boarded, and whirled around in a circle. "Stormtrooper, is there some form of hallucinogenic gas being pumped into this chamber?"
The sergeant of the four man squad behind her snapped a salute on being faced, voice crackling and hissing through the skull white helmet. "M'am, no m'am."
The Navy troopers tended to be more human about their responses- and appearances- but while it was customary for Customs to be accompanied by Naval personnel, she had requested the assistance of troops less likely to succumb to trickery or violence quickly, and she had wound up with this lot. Theoretically their electronics and training would render them less vulnerable. She tapped a foot, eyed his unwavering visor, and decided next time she would definitely go back to the regulation troops.
"Are there any sort of holograms or holographic trickery rendering... this?" she asked more impatiently.
"No, m'am, not as far as we can tell, m'am. There really are children standing in front of us in a position of military attention, m'am. And they do have firearms holstered," the sergeant reported, a slight hint of what might be emotion slipping into his modified tones.
There were indeed. All sorts, from the smallest of the lot- a five year old Bith with entirely too grim an expression for the taste of the Imperials- to the oldest, an eleven year old Human with a clean shaven head and no eyebrows. Not a single one shifted, complained, or broke their bearing.
The effect was a chilling one, made all the worse by the fact that save their severity they ought to have been adorable. They were in shape, only a few had scars, certainly none were deformed... but there seemed to be little childish about the younglings. There was more infantile personages in barracks then on this vessel.
A man of middling height strode into view and brought a hand up to his helmet, then removed it and offered in a quiet voice, "Parade~Rest!"
Clack.
The Five-Oh-First Legion itself might have been proud of the unison in which the movement was conducted, made all the more impressive by the severely different heights and limb lengths, but it set the Customs agent's mouth in a silent and uncharacteristic 'O' for a moment in reaction.
The man was Mandalorian, in deep garnet armor that seemed almost a black in its more shadowed areas, which was contrasted by the sky blue glow of the removed headgear. He himself was almost pale, with mousy hair of a mixture of dirty blonde and true-brown. His hazel brown eyes locked onto the discomfited galactic officer as his eyebrows, long and almost as slimly angular as his face, raised visibly.
"Is there a problem, officer? The last I was aware, a father raising his children wasn't against the law," his baritone voice rung. The stormtrooper behind the sergeant coughed in unconscious reaction, and the Customs agent took the prompt.
"Your children? I doubt that, Captain," she scoffed, "and you aren't paying any taxes, nor are they registered, nor is there a crew manifest for them, and certainly armed children ARE against the law!"
"I must have missed that law," his amused voice returned, "I'm afraid all the children of my culture learn firearms. As for the crew manifests, taxes, and registrations, that would actually require being a citizen of the Empire, wouldn't it? I'm from an autonomous state."
"Very well. How did you acquire them, and what is your cargo and destination? I'm certain I've seen some of these faces on missing posters," she accused, and folded her arms across her chest. "I'm sure there are a few tariffs we can ramp up too, Captain..."
She checked. "... Ijaat."
His grin faded. "I'm certain you have. And I'm not a captain. I don't believe in ranks. Actually, the children come from slave markets, orphanages, and kidnappings- I adopt the children left behind when I kill the parent. They grow up with a future and training; if they want revenge for anything when they're old enough to leave, they're free to try to kill me."
"You just admitted breaking the law multiple times to an Imperial Officer, you rebellious scum. I can take you in on charges now even without searching the rest of your ship," she grinned. "Take him."
"Ad'ike," Jahaal offered. The single quiet word rang almost like an order. The stormtroopers raised their rifles, of course, but forty eight pistols drilled them before they could even aim down. The Customs agent stood alone, blinking, as the army in miniature replaced their weapons and the grown men fell. The thin man offered her a small, sharp smile.
"They prefer me to the Empire," Jahaal said quietly. "They actually have a life in store for them this way and a family. You going to steal that from the Mando'ade?"
The Imperial opened her mouth to answer, but ingrained arrogance and superiority were hard to maintain under such shock. And given how fast the little chakaar had moved and that the actual threat hadn't even showed a weapon yet, she really, really didn't want to say anything that would get her blasted. She shook her head slowly.
"Good. Your Star Destroyer is waiting for you. Clear us- I assure you the artillery is even faster if you try anything," the red armored Mandalorian ordered. "We're just your imagination. There are no more Mandalorians..."
She dropped her datapad in bewildered surprise, looking around the ship she'd boarded, and whirled around in a circle. "Stormtrooper, is there some form of hallucinogenic gas being pumped into this chamber?"
The sergeant of the four man squad behind her snapped a salute on being faced, voice crackling and hissing through the skull white helmet. "M'am, no m'am."
The Navy troopers tended to be more human about their responses- and appearances- but while it was customary for Customs to be accompanied by Naval personnel, she had requested the assistance of troops less likely to succumb to trickery or violence quickly, and she had wound up with this lot. Theoretically their electronics and training would render them less vulnerable. She tapped a foot, eyed his unwavering visor, and decided next time she would definitely go back to the regulation troops.
"Are there any sort of holograms or holographic trickery rendering... this?" she asked more impatiently.
"No, m'am, not as far as we can tell, m'am. There really are children standing in front of us in a position of military attention, m'am. And they do have firearms holstered," the sergeant reported, a slight hint of what might be emotion slipping into his modified tones.
There were indeed. All sorts, from the smallest of the lot- a five year old Bith with entirely too grim an expression for the taste of the Imperials- to the oldest, an eleven year old Human with a clean shaven head and no eyebrows. Not a single one shifted, complained, or broke their bearing.
The effect was a chilling one, made all the worse by the fact that save their severity they ought to have been adorable. They were in shape, only a few had scars, certainly none were deformed... but there seemed to be little childish about the younglings. There was more infantile personages in barracks then on this vessel.
A man of middling height strode into view and brought a hand up to his helmet, then removed it and offered in a quiet voice, "Parade~Rest!"
Clack.
The Five-Oh-First Legion itself might have been proud of the unison in which the movement was conducted, made all the more impressive by the severely different heights and limb lengths, but it set the Customs agent's mouth in a silent and uncharacteristic 'O' for a moment in reaction.
The man was Mandalorian, in deep garnet armor that seemed almost a black in its more shadowed areas, which was contrasted by the sky blue glow of the removed headgear. He himself was almost pale, with mousy hair of a mixture of dirty blonde and true-brown. His hazel brown eyes locked onto the discomfited galactic officer as his eyebrows, long and almost as slimly angular as his face, raised visibly.
"Is there a problem, officer? The last I was aware, a father raising his children wasn't against the law," his baritone voice rung. The stormtrooper behind the sergeant coughed in unconscious reaction, and the Customs agent took the prompt.
"Your children? I doubt that, Captain," she scoffed, "and you aren't paying any taxes, nor are they registered, nor is there a crew manifest for them, and certainly armed children ARE against the law!"
"I must have missed that law," his amused voice returned, "I'm afraid all the children of my culture learn firearms. As for the crew manifests, taxes, and registrations, that would actually require being a citizen of the Empire, wouldn't it? I'm from an autonomous state."
"Very well. How did you acquire them, and what is your cargo and destination? I'm certain I've seen some of these faces on missing posters," she accused, and folded her arms across her chest. "I'm sure there are a few tariffs we can ramp up too, Captain..."
She checked. "... Ijaat."
His grin faded. "I'm certain you have. And I'm not a captain. I don't believe in ranks. Actually, the children come from slave markets, orphanages, and kidnappings- I adopt the children left behind when I kill the parent. They grow up with a future and training; if they want revenge for anything when they're old enough to leave, they're free to try to kill me."
"You just admitted breaking the law multiple times to an Imperial Officer, you rebellious scum. I can take you in on charges now even without searching the rest of your ship," she grinned. "Take him."
"Ad'ike," Jahaal offered. The single quiet word rang almost like an order. The stormtroopers raised their rifles, of course, but forty eight pistols drilled them before they could even aim down. The Customs agent stood alone, blinking, as the army in miniature replaced their weapons and the grown men fell. The thin man offered her a small, sharp smile.
"They prefer me to the Empire," Jahaal said quietly. "They actually have a life in store for them this way and a family. You going to steal that from the Mando'ade?"
The Imperial opened her mouth to answer, but ingrained arrogance and superiority were hard to maintain under such shock. And given how fast the little chakaar had moved and that the actual threat hadn't even showed a weapon yet, she really, really didn't want to say anything that would get her blasted. She shook her head slowly.
"Good. Your Star Destroyer is waiting for you. Clear us- I assure you the artillery is even faster if you try anything," the red armored Mandalorian ordered. "We're just your imagination. There are no more Mandalorians..."
Literature
Hospital oddities
i. ask your housekeeper if you require fresh fruit
ii. give me the words but not the pain;
give me the warmth of the fire without the flames
the future might change but the past stays the same
give me a life without any grief
give me hope without the need for blind belief
the past might change but the future stays the same?
iii. i don’t believe in the scars that I’ve got
or the spaces between.
there was once a whole person there.
i outgrew her aged four.
iv. water is a vegetarian option
(as is milk)
v. i am on my own
(i am always gonna be this way)
vi. we’re all angels here
(no love ,we’re all insane)
vii. did
Literature
Irretrievably Broken
What can you do when the person who is supposed to love you the most doesn't care at all?
What should you do when the person who is supposed to have your back at all times stabs you in it instead?
What does it say when all the people who were supposed to be friends to both of you kept their silence?
I may forgive one day, but I will never trust again.
Literature
2 Sentence Story
It was a dark and stormy night.
The Earth cradled itself in blankets of black clouds, awaiting its end.
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Ah, the dark days of the Galactic Empire. Jahaal is Keiran and Lyssia's son. He's really a nice guy; he just takes training and adoption a bit far.
...
Mnem never comments anymore. D; And I wrote her brainchild's child wrong around children. D|
...
Mnem never comments anymore. D; And I wrote her brainchild's child wrong around children. D|
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