This is a SW-Modern Earth crossover that I’m working on, I don’t like to preface or brag, so I’m going just going to start by posting a chapter, and letting it explain itself.
<u>A Series of Unfortunate Coincidences, Chapter One:</u>
The time for the jump was NOW, there could be no more delays, this entire operation required that they jump into hyperspace and hit Endor when the ground-pounders had the shield down. Lando knew that the shield would be down, it HAD to be, they needed to buy those troops time, or else it will be all over when they arrive.
“Admiral, we’re in position. All fighters accounted for.” He said into the com-system, waiting for an answer.
“Proceed with the countdown. All groups assume attack co-ordinates” came a static-infested reply on the radio. It was time. Rather than having each fighter calculate their own hyperspace jump, the Falcon would made the calculation and have all the other ships use it.
Han you better not have bullshitted me about the Kessel Run, or we’re cooked. Lando thought to himself as the hyperspace co-ordinate came flashing through.
Lando heard his first mate mumble something about how the attack might fail miserable, and his concerns with the jump. “Don’t worry, my friend’s down there, he’ll have the shield down on time” he calmly re-assured his first mate of “Or this will be the shortest offensive of all time” He said to himself, casting his own self-doubt about this long-shot assault.
“All craft, prepare to jump into hyperspace on my mark” Came the command over the radio, Lando readied the hyperdrive.
Now is when we find out how well these co-ordinate work.
Instantly the rebel armada, and the largest collection of rebel warships went streaking into hyperspace, hoping to emerge at Endor right on time.
Han Solo had finally caught some luck, something that had always seemed to flow to him constantly, until Luke showed up. It was sheer luck that your prissy protocol droid would be revered as a god by the natives, luck they would find a back door, and luck that there would only be four guards on duty. The native had been dumb enough to try to hijack a speeder bike, and let three of them away from the bunker. Only one left, not a problem, just don’t let him sound the alarm. As good as he was, C-3PO was a hindrance, and a walking target, best left behind. With the last trooper disarmed, this operation would be a cake-walk.
Empty. This wasn’t adding up anymore, either Han was extremely lucky right now, or he was leading his men into a trap. He hoped it was the first one, Chewbacca moaned with disgust, this wasn’t adding up, but he had to get the shield down on time.
A single elevator rumbled to the top of the Emperor’s tower, overlooking the moon, and fleet gathered, waiting. The weary, and aged face of the Emperor slowly turned around a met with Luke, with a piercing gaze that looked straight through his soul.
“Welcome young Skywalker, I have expecting you.” These words shot straight through him. The powerful Sith Lord, who overthrew the Old Republic, and had led them to victory in the clone wars, and foiled a “plot” by the Jedi to take over, was not nearly as menacing as he seemed.
“You no longer need those.” As he said those words, the binders on his arms unhooked and fell off. And with another three words, the crimson imperial guards immediately left the room, oblivious to fate.
He held strong against the taunting of the emperor, hoping on the careful timing of the fleet.
“You’re wrong, soon I’ll be dead, and you with me.” His words cut the darkness with a small shimmer of light.
“Perhaps you refer to the imminent attack of your rebel fleet” laughed the Emperor in disgust, his words cutting more deeply, extinguishing the small hope of light in the room. “Yes, I assure you that they have found themselves lost, and that they are stranded in another galaxy, and will not be able to arrive here in time to stop me.” He knew the Emperor was lying, he had to be, the fleet will arrive, the shield will be down, it all HAD to be. But it wasn’t.
President Henderson looked out on the White House lawn with despair. So many presidents were here, all of them greater than I ever will be. The thought raced through his head, he longed to lead his country to victory, but he could barely have his own victory, by all counts, he shouldn’t have won the last election, but he did, and he would pay dearly for it. Even though his predecessor came to power by the courts in a far closer race than what he would have, the public still hated him, he wished he could be a war president, like his successor, and be revered as a hero, but these delusions would never happen. If only he had a battle to win.
Questions, Comments, Concerns, Flames? I’m welcome to feedback.