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| - Note that these are not the final drafts of the chapters. “General Skywalker,” a soldier outside a door in a hallway said, rapping on the door with his knuckles. “I’ll be ready in a second,” a voice behind the door shouted. “But you don’t have a second!” the soldier excalimed, “You need to be there early.” Luke Skywalker bent over the dresser, gripping it in a tight grip. He was getting very weary of every one being so concerned of his doing and goings. He just wanted to be left alone. “Alright,” he said, “I will be coming.” He rolled his eyes. Time to please the mob. “Well, yes, bu----“
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| abstract
| - Note that these are not the final drafts of the chapters. “General Skywalker,” a soldier outside a door in a hallway said, rapping on the door with his knuckles. “I’ll be ready in a second,” a voice behind the door shouted. “But you don’t have a second!” the soldier excalimed, “You need to be there early.” Luke Skywalker bent over the dresser, gripping it in a tight grip. He was getting very weary of every one being so concerned of his doing and goings. He just wanted to be left alone. Did I make a mistake taking a commission? He wondered to himself. Ever since the Triculus Terror Campaign in 7 ABY, he had been a general. But, should he have done what Han had done? He had resigned his commission barely four years after getting it in order to convince Leia of justy how dedicated he was to marrying her. “Alright,” he said, “I will be coming.” He rolled his eyes. Time to please the mob. “Threepio,” he called out, “Artoo, time to be going.” There was a clanking and thud as the protocol droid came staggering out of the side room, almost as a drunk. 3PO said, “Curse you Artoo, always such a bother. Watch where your rusty wheels go.” Artoo let out a dissapproving bleep at him. “What is----“ Luke started, then thinking better of it, said instead, “Stop it guys, we need to get to the wedding.” “We’re coming Master Luke,” Threepio said, steadying himself, “Artoo has been carrying on about----“ “Another time Threepio,” Luke cut him off, “we must get to the wedding.” Artoo gave a few beeps but Luke didn’t catch them. His mind was focused on other things. They walked out the room and into the stone hallways that would lead to the great chambers, where the marriage would be held. Two guards flanked him as they walked. One was a Taung from Mandalore, who had been assigned to him recently and didn’t talk very much. The other was a Bakurian. Del For was a intriguing character on his own accord. Bakurians had a religious aversion to the Jedi Knights, and probably more important, they were a pro-Imperial people. They did however seem to be more friendly to the New Republic then other worlds. It did help that the Alliance had come to their aid and saved them from a dirty deal signed between the Emperor Palpatine and the Ssi-ruuk. As they walked, they passed by, to Luke’s surprise, Chief-of-State Borsk Fey’lya. He was followed six guards, armored in red and orange full body uniforms and carrying laser rifles. Borsk saw Luke and fell in line beside him, shoving Del For out of the way, who did not look happy at being treated such. “Well, well,” the Bothan his fur rising in gentle surprise, “What do we owe the presence of Luke Skywalker here today?” “I am here for the wedding,” Luke shrugged, “But it is your presence that is surprising. I didn’t think you care much about weddings.” Fey’lya’s fur again raised in gentle surprise, “My dear general, are we not all suppose to be happy for General Antilles and his blushing bride?” “Well, yes, bu----“ “Well then,” he said, putting an arm around his shoulders, “What better way for me to show my appretiation for his services to the Republic then? After all, it is not every day a man can get married.” “I suppose,” Luke said, but something did feel wrong to him. Borsk Fey’lya was not a man know to be a friendly person. It was also known that Wedge and Borsk hated each other. Why was he all of a sudden concerened about being to Wedge’s wedding? And the guards, they didn’t walk like most soldiers of the Republic. They walked almost as Imperials. “So Fey’lya,” he said, as they arrived to the doors to the grand chamber, a grand wedding theme being played from what sounded like Ortlan on a red ball organ, “I like the Imperial style your guards march in. Is this new standard procedure?“ Borsk’s hair flared up in sudden anger. “How my guards act is strictly up to me and not to you. I happen to like the effeciancy of the Imperial Guard.” With that, they pushed open the door, and walked in. To find everyone at blaster point by Imperial Commandos wearing ysalamari. Luke barely had time to react before the guards of the Chief-of-State pointed their blasters at him and Luke felt the hard barrel of a blaster pistol being shoved into his side by Fey’lya.
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