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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. |