|
|
|
Welcome
to
Nathaniel Reed's
|
 |
:: An ongoing episodic story of fan-fic set after Episode VI Return of the Jedi, and inspired by George Lucas' historical draft concepts ::
FAQs
|
| |
New movie latest : Starfighter, with Ryan Gosling
30th April2025 |
At the Star Wars Celebration event in Japan this month, it was revealed that a new movie is in production. This is (currently) entitled 'Starfighter', directed by Shawn Levy, and Hollywood movie star Ryan Gosling has been formally attached to it ! No story details have been released with the announcement, other than it has a May 2027 release date, though I do wonder if some or all of 'Rogue Squadron. may be re-purposed for this ?
I'm aware of the many movie projects announced and dropped or fallen silent over the recent years, so we will have to see if this develops. Currently, we have 'The Mandalorian and Grogu' in production / post-production and due for release in May 2026, and the 'Dawn of the Jedi' and the 'New Jedi Order' films in development.
|
| |
| |
| As I did with the progression of the Virtual Edition Episode X, I will post below sections of the prose for Episode XI as I draft it.... Gana and Corsa Solo are racing through the subterranean levels of Coruscant, while Benji Skywalker begins his own little adventure... |
The Slipniir raced through the dark under belly of the subterranean levels of the city-planet, following sporadically placed hover-orb lights that gave off a sickly yellow hue. The course had already dropped them lower than the starting hangar, and now they were whooshing past the huge foundation pilings that, like tree roots, held the cityscape aloft.
The red and green ship had bright headlights to the front, and various points across its hull – the stabiliser wingtips, the engine cowls, its name – that were lit up too. There were nine other racers, most were in large ships like the Slipniir, but two were bulky speeder bike variants where the open-seat pilots wore specialist suits that provided them with enhanced observation and control.
Gana and Corsa were positioned roughly in the middle of the pack, they could see the bright orange and white glows of their competitors’ engine thrusters ahead, and screens inside the cockpit notified them of where their other adversaries were immediately behind and beside them.
The teenagers not only stretched out with their limbs but also with the Force, various stabiliser and power rating switches and dials all around them flicking and turning courtesy of the Cosmic Energy. The wrap-around cockpit was designed for the multi-digit Ardennian, so Gana, sat squarely in the single bench-seat, was holding tight to the steering yoke, whilst Corsa, squeezed to the side of him, was monitoring the ship’s statistics.
Some ancient dura-steelcrete flaked down upon them as the lead ship thundered past a set of pilings, and Gana held the ship tight and steady as they bounced under the blows. Corsa spotted out of the corner of her eye one of the ships on their tail spin right round as it too got struck, but then righted itself.
“They rolled, but they’re still with us !” she called out.
Her rear-view screen also showed a swoop bike neatly dodge the debris, and another ship flare its shields, bouncing the grey blocks outward and away.
“Better remember those old crumblies back there for the next lap !” she advised.
“Gimme more power, sis ! Need to catch up with this guy and sit on his tail !”
“Careful, Garny !”
“I can sit in his shadow !” her brother explained.
“Ohhh... okay... if you’re sure...”
Corsa raised her hand and several dials and levers moved. The children felt themselves pushed back as the ship accelerated, catching up with the glow of the engines ahead.
The ships jinked left and right as they wove their way through the pre-set course.
A jumble of power cables hung loose from a crack in the ceiling space, sparks flashing off the lowest one. As the ships flew past the arcing cable, above it and below it, the electrical embers bounced off the hulls harmlessly. The pilot of one of the swoop bikes was not so lucky, and a tangled web of blue light briefly flickered all over him : the rider slumped forward, and the bike went down. The pilot tumbled off his seat, and the bike smashed into the side of the cavern, the ensuing fireball illuminating the space in orange.
The Solo Twins’ eyes opened wide, and they allowed themselves a brief glance at each other.
“It’ll be okay !” announced Gana, ever the optimist. “We got this !”
“Ye-yeah... stay with it, Garny !”
Benji sat next to the bunk, clutching one of Jonzi’s four paws. He was anxious for the Ardennian pilot who seemed only now to be getting over the food poisoning. The rest-room at the back of the main complex was dimly lit, punctuated now by the rhythmic flashing of the blue and green lights emanating from the boxy med-droid. It bore an array of extended arms, each taking vital statistics from the Ardennian, as well as samples of fluids.
“Gastric palpitations appear to be settling now, the sedative and gastric-stabiliser will be taking effect”, it reported in its calm steady voice.
“Do you think it was poison ?” asked Benji Skywalker in a small voice.
“Difficult to say without further investigations,” answered the droid, matter-of-factly.
Benji turned back to regard the pilot.
“Have you eaten anything different, Jonzi ?” he asked gently.
The pilot tipped her head to one side and smiled wanly.
“Some Good Luck Cake,” she answered. “From the new guy... from the South.” She shook her head. “But we all ate some... It can’t be that... and besides, us racers have a code of honour... we’re here to race and appreciate good racing....”
Benji nodded sympathetically, but he pressed on, the Force tingling at the edge of his consciousness.
“Is there any cake left over ? Where did you eat it ?”
Jonzi lifted her chin and nodded across the way. The boy glanced in the same direction, and saw a counter top with a plate.
He rose, and walked over to the platter. It had clearly been tasty – there were only crumbs left behind.
He reached out, and gathered some of the crumbs in his hand, then he returned to Jonzi and the med-droid.
“Droid, are you able to do a spot-analysis here ?”
“Affirmative, but only an initial field-work quality of analysis. If you require more detail, then the sample would need to be sent away.”
“Well, let’s see what you can come up with. Here, can you scan these crumbs, please ?”
The droid opened a small hatch on its chest and a tray slid out. The boy upended the crumbs into the tray, which then slid back inside the boxy torso.
The droid audibly hummed and whirred to itself, and the blue and green lights flashed at a faster rate.
After a while, it gave its pronouncement.
“All ingredients appear to be genuine and natural. No obvious toxins detected, though there are some trace elements that would require further analysis.”
Undeterred, Benji pressed on with a new thought.
“Droid, can you mix the crumbs with the gastric fluid and blood samples you’ve taken ?”
“Certainly, sir,” answered the med-droid.
A further round of animated noises and flashing lights was resolved with another declaration.
“Sir, there appears to be a reaction. This seems to be intra-symbiotic to the Ardennian. Acidic responses are highly aggressive... but the initial spike appears to be relatively short-lived.”
Benji nodded with comprehension. He could feel the Force blooming like a flower under raindrops.
“The ingredients have been tampered with so as to react with an Ardennian alone and no one else. And to cause a distress that won’t last too long, and won’t kill.”
He looked directly at Jonzi : “Long enough to get you out of the race, but not raise too much concern or suspicion !”
“He wouldn’t dare ?!” Jonzi responded in shock. “... Would he ??”
The med-droid piped up.
“As a med-doid employed by the subter racing federation, I am duty-bound to report this immediately to my superiors, and request that the race be paused to investigate the circumstances further, and to allow any accusations to be raised.”
Benji cast a thought to his cousins.
“Yes !” he cried out. “Can you do that right now ?”
“Affirmative,” answered the droid. Another small hatch opened on its flat-dome head, and a miniature antenna dish slid out, rotated, and pointed in the vague direction of the racing club comms network. Once again, the blue and green lights flashed furiously as it relayed its message to the federation.
The droid retracted its arms, and announced that the patient would be fine, but needed to rest. Its stubby legs then pneumatically jolted into action, and it marched out of the rest room.
Benji took Jonzi’s hand and squeezed it.
“You’ll be all right, Jonzi ! And we’ll get to the bottom of this !”
The Ardennian smiled back, and a little stronger this time.
“Thankyou, thankyou ! This is indeed... a dark day for subters if these... foul tactics are being employed,” she said, her voice dry and cracking a little. “I... I wonder how this guy became... the League Leader in the Southern District...”
Benji nodded.
“We should get the Ellies involved !” he answered eagerly, but Jonzi, with a little effort, shook her head, her lilac mane swaying as she did so.
“No ! No... no need, we can sort it out... amongst ourselves. Our world, kid, isn’t as crystal clear as you might think...or hope,” and she gave a half smirk.
Benji pinched his mouth as he considered the pragmatism of her words, and nodded again.
“You sound parched. Let me get you some water.”
The Ardennian nodded, and Benji jumped up, and moved to the back of the rest-rooms to look for a water dispenser.
The Slipniir settled low as the cavern appeared to get shorter in height. A set of yellow orbs arced to the left, and the ships all followed obediently. Suddenly, with only a few metres above the ground, some makeshift tents appeared ahead of them. As the craft raced in and over, the children were momentarily aware of hunched pale hairless humanoid creatures scuttling to one side.
Corsa glanced at the rear-view screens.
“What were those things ?!”
“Sub-trogs ?” Gana shrugged.
The ships now raced towards a narrow horizontal fissure in the rock, stalactites and stalagmites appearing as teeth guarding the entrance.
“Hold on !” Gana called out, and he leaned in hard on the yoke.
The Slipniir turned vertically and slipped between a set of stone formations. More pillars faced them, and he deftly rolled the ship left and right to avoid the natural obstructions.
A red-orange glow appeared ahead, and they could see a line of yellow orbs dipping downward. The ships followed the orbs as they dropped and once again levelled out, and suddenly the racers were skimming over a lava flow.
The thick magma churned and plopped as it moved, and all the pilots had to ensure they avoided the gaseous explosions below them whilst staying clear of the low cavern roof.
One craft jolted against the roof, and a dorsal wingtip got shredded. The ship wobbled, but the pilot retained its stability.
The hover orbs steered them away from the fiery river, and the ground elevation began to climb.
What little of the terrain they could see showed the resumption of artificial support structures once more.
The lead racer’s headlights sparkled against something, and soon the ships were faced with waterfalls of lost metropolitan irrigation and waste. The ships smashed their way through the water, and out the other side. The orbs led upwards once more, and the tunnels became blockier as the course weaved through more foundations.
Another set of sparking cables brought further hazard to the wet hulls, and blue-white electricity danced between and across and over the racers, briefly illuminating the dark environment.
Meanwhile, back in the rest-room at the Florro’s subter circuit base, Jonzi, eyes closed, muttered to herself. “Those kids... they don’t know about the... Ellies. They can’t let themselves... be seen.”
She sighed, and slumped back into the bunk.
Now the ships popped out onto a freeway within a vast circular access chimney, one of the lowest accessible from the skyscape far above. Cargo ships and utilities vessels trucked their way between sub-tenements and factories and retail storage.
“Time to switch to the Florro’s subter transponder, Corsy !” called out Gana.
“I know, I know !” his sister snapped back but without anger. “We’ve got to make our own way back...”
She flicked some switches, and the auto-nav popped up in front of Gana. Where the subter route deep underground followed the lit hover-orbs, now, up in the flowing traffic, the racers had a free-for-all, within safe margins, to get back to the main hangar as quickly as they could. She could already see that some of their associates had peeled off left and right to find their own most direct way back. The auto-nav was mapping out three holographic routes, annotated with distance and time and known obstructions.
“Option two might be the quickest...” she suggested.
Now the danger to the racers was to avoid this commercial traffic and not draw attention to themselves from the local air traffic control or the local law enforcement ; the seasoned racers were cognizant of this and would dive out of sight as soon as they appeared in this access stack. The Ellies were notorious for sitting like patient vultures in insignificant places waiting for any form of nefarious behaviour that would give them an excuse to enliven their day and justify their role in the Pan-Alliance.
One patrol, LE-1138, was idly following within a queue of cargo carriers, checking vessel IDs and their declared manifests. The patroller was boxy in shape, blue-white-yellow in colour, with two forward pilot prongs, and a central storage and detainment section, flanked by two small engines with side thruster attachments. The convoy, including the patroller, was just above the Slipniir.
On the racer, a customised proximity alert pinged, and the twins jumped.
“What’s that ??!” Corsa cried out.
“I don’t know !” answered her brother.
Just then, the comms deck opened on the general hailing frequency : “Unregistered green and red yacht, this is LE-1138, we are above your position at mark nine five, please state your ID and purpose.”
The twins stared at each other, their mouths falling open in shock and panic.
“Ellies ??!” they both announced in unison. “Oh no !”
Back at the Florro’s subter-racing base, Benji Skywalker had found a simple kitchenette, and as he was reaching for a drinking beaker, he heard voices coming from an open doorway.
“We gotta do double our quota today, Finz. I’ve heard the damn Imperials won’t say no to the Florro Sisters, and need it done for a job they’ve got coming up !”
Benji instinctively ducked back and stretched out with the Force : two burly humans in grubby work overalls, taking the sparse access corridor at the back of the rest-rooms, the hard cold lighting throwing deep shadows against the grimy white walls.
The reference to Imperials piqued his interest, as did the identification of the Hutt owners, whom his cousins had said were untrustworthy, and the Force responded positively.
The boy ‘latched’ on to the two ground crew with the Force, and then he grabbed a beaker from the counter, filled it with water, and returned to Jonzi.
“Here, Jonzi, take this and rest. I’m going to leave you here for a moment, if that’s okay with you, and go out check out something at the back here...”
The Ardennian nodded, took a sip, laid back and closed her eyes.
Benji briefly rested his hand on her shoulder, then returned to the back of the rest-rooms.
In the primary access stack of the metropolitan subterranean world, the Slipniir trailed along below the cargo convoy. The Ellie patroller had hailed the sub-racer and requested identification and purpose.
Inside its cockpit, Gana leaned forward and flicked the activator switch for the comms channel.
“Falcon... Falcon...” he stuttered, before making a squawking sound from the side of his mouth. “Copy.... Falcon... cargo...” He flicked the switch off.
He looked over to his sister and grinned ; she rolled her eyes at him.
“Unidentified yacht, please repeat, your response was garbled.”
“We gotta get outta here, Garny !” Corsa whispered, her voice breaking slightly.
“I know... Sis, if we work together we can get out of this...” He nodded up with his chin. “Let’s get up into that traffic stream. Can you find us a route outta here ?”
As Gana lifted the Slipniir towards the air traffic he was conscious he was bringing them closer to the Ellie patrol ship. He spotted a large haulier three ships behind the distinctive patroller, and sidled the racer alongside its starboard flank.
“That’ll keep us out of his visuals for a moment,” he muttered. The Force, however, preserved a clear line of sight for him.
His sister re-affirmed what he was also sensing : “The Ellie’s moving out and dropping back....” she said, her eyes shut, relying on the Force to give her clarity. “Gana, route two is next to that set of lights down there, at mark four below. Do you see them ?”
Her brother had his eyes shut now as well.
He jerked on the steering yoke, and the Slipniir jolted to the left and down. He then pulled sharply to the right, and the ship rolled with the ventral hull above them and back up the port side of the carrier. Gana continued the roll and traversed up the height of the bigger ship and across its top hull. He could sense the Ellie follow their path below the traffic convoy.
“Punch it !”
His sister reached out her hand and two throttle levers pushed forward. The children were jolted back against the bench-seat.
The Slipniir raced across the top of the haulier, and flew to the next one. Gana leaned in on the yoke, and the smaller ship dived sharply between the two vessels, popping out below.
The Slipniir accelerated away, heading directly for the lights that Corsa had identified. The twins were aware of the Ellie appearing below and on the far side of the convoy, and dropping onto a pursuit vector.
As the sub-racer reached the far wall of the access stack, the children could sense construction cranes and similar machinery clustered around the access tunnel : the source of the lights was the work crew bustling about the closed off route. Flashing diversion arrows pointed off to the right.
“Uh oh,” Gana began, “I have a bad feeling about this...”
“Me too,” his sister agreed.
Gana hauled back hard and to the left on the steering yoke, and the ship only barely skimmed the highest crane. It weaved between some scaffolding craft and a mobile concrete mixer, and then sped across the wall of the access stack.
Without the need to look at the rear view screens, the twins were aware their pursuer was arcing around to re-establish its vector.
“We need a new route !” called out Gana.
“There’s a cut-in over there,” Corsa answered promptly, eyes shut, but pointing with her finger.
Her brother nodded. “And then that pedestrian walkway behind it. It looks tight, though, sis !”
“Yeah, but it leads to that warehouse and then that grocery plaza past it looks big enough...”
“Well, here goes nothing !”
Behind and out of sight and sense of the children the ghostly apparition of their mother appeared within the cockpit, a quizzical expression and a pursed mouth following her offspring’s antics.
The Slipniir banked sharply, and dived into the recess. The pedestrians that were milling around cried out in alarm and dived to the ground and the sides in panic. The ship levelled out, but the low duracrete overhang shredded the small ailerons atop the two engines. The racer sped across the narrow plaza, and a warehouse began to resolve itself in the distance.
“The door !” wailed Corsa, and she flung her right hand to one side ; likewise, Gana grabbed the air-brake lever and leaned back on it, buying them time to allow the door to fully open.
Ahead of the racer, the warehouse door rumbled open, and the ship sliced through the widening gap. It crashed through shelves of food containers, fruit and nuts and freeze-dried meats tumbling everywhere, workers on high ladders being sent cascading to the floor !
Corsa immediately motioned with her hand once more, and the far door of the warehouse also clanked open.
The Slipniir skimmed through and onto the apron of grocery stores, a sickly yellow artificial light the only illumination for the subterranean dwellers. With a whine, the racer powered down, and settled on its landing struts. Shoppers and local inhabitants stared in a daze at the intrusion. The space led up to a much narrower access stack, reaching so high up that only a few glinting lights from passing air traffic could be seen.
Outside, in the vast primary access stack, the Ellie patroller came to an abrupt halt next to the recess. The right-hand cockpit bubble canopy rose with a hiss, and the deputy got to his feet, clambered onto the hull rim, and leapt out on to the decking. The far canopy also opened, and the lead sheriff called out to his colleague to investigate further inside, whilst he would call for support.
The human deputy raised his hands and urged the surrounding pedestrians to remain calm. He then proceeded deeper into the plaza, following the debris on the ground that led to an open warehouse.
Further inside past the warehouse, seated within the Slipniir’s cockpit, the Twins were reviewing their options.
Reminiscent of his father, Gana gestured his left hand from his chin to point upwards : “I can sense more Ellie’s above us,” he noted.
Corsa nodded. “Stands to reason they’ve been called in. Oh, Garny, what are we going to do ?”
“Well, we can’t stay here...”
“...And the longer we do, the more time they have to get to us...” his sister answered. “And mum will kill us if she ever finds out !”
“You know... I have a feeling she might already know....” the boy sighed. “What have you got us into this time, Corsy ?!” grinned Gana, without malice, knowing full well that both of them were inclined to mischief. His sister matched his grin with her own.
Just then, the comms desk squawked once more, and a green light flashed above the private line identifying the Florro Racing Club. Gana gestured with his hand and a corresponding switch moved and the green light settled to a steady glow.
“To all racers, the run is terminated, we repeat, the run is terminated,” a muffled voice announced. “Please make your way back to the starting grid immediately.”
“What’s going on now ??” wondered Gana out loud.
“We need to get back to Florro’s fast,” announced Corsa. She closed her eyes, and called upon the Force for insight. “Still only two back there at the entrance.... are you thinking what I’m thinking ?”
“Well I don’t want to hurt anyone, but... yeah...”
“Let’s do it then !” she announced, and waved her hands over the ship’s controls. Levers moved and switches flicked and the racer whined as it re-activated.
The Slipniir rose and rotated, pointing back the way it had come. Its engines glowed brightly, and it accelerated back towards the open warehouse.
On the far side, the deputy was peering into the open warehouse when he heard the increasing whine of jet engines. He saw bright lights ahead of him, his eyes and mouth opened wide, and he dived to the floor. The racer sped over him and the twins re-traced their route back to the access stack.
Once again Gana had to negotiate the narrow overhang, this time scraping the ventral hull as he overcompensated for the ceiling.
“The patroller’s just outside !” Corsa cried out, sensing the obstacle.
Both children raised their right hands in unison and called upon the Force to push the police vessel to one side.
Outside, the striped patroller began to slowly move of its own accord, much to the confused amazement of the sheriff-pilot.
Suddenly, the racer spat out from the recess, pedestrians once again running for cover. The Slipniir glanced against the patroller, spinning it off to the side, its automatic anti-grav repulsors responding to keep it stable.
The racer sped away, just as two new patroller ships were descending from above.
Not too far away at the Florro’s racing base, Benji Skywalker was on a mission. Not only had he overheard reference to Imperials in this obscure location of all places, but the Force had tingled him into responding : he needed to investigate !
The grubby white-washed corridor was empty now, but the Force ensured he had a clear image in his mind as to the route the mechanics had taken. He turned left into the corridor, and boldly followed it until he reached a door on his right. He depressed the lock button, and the door slid open with a squeak. The next corridor was empty, and he continued on.
He reached the end and another door. He could sense movement pass by on the other side. He paused for a few seconds, then opened the door. Again, the rusty squeak of unmaintained access conduits. As he stepped into the new corridor, anticipating the noise would attract the attention of the people ahead of him, he waved his right hand, and the three other occupants – a Rodian and two Gamorreans – found something more interesting ahead of them.
Benji followed these three through another door, and he found himself at the edge of a large workshop floor. He quickly ducked to one side, and hid behind some metal oil barrels.
Machinery and pneumatic hoses and power cables and hoist chains hung from the ceiling, various racer craft lay in degrees of disrepair below them, sparks flew from welding tables to one side and loud hammering came from the opposite side ; across the way on the far side Benji could make out spray booths splattered with all the known colours.
|
| |
| |
| Nathaniel Reed, 30th April 2025 |
| |
| |
 |
| |
|
|
