Prologue: A Hope Dashed

***

In space, no one can hear you scream---Unless you happen to have a heafty amount of spare oxygen to pump through the lack of atmosphere and/or a two way radio.

Or perhaps really big subtitles...

Either way the logic goes...Nothing could prepare the allegid four kilometers of target for the words rapidly vanishing into the distance, and the distruction it therein caused to the main cannon and the majority of the outer hull of a casually passing DeathStar.

If a StarDestroyer could sweatdrop anime-style, it would have by now...But being innanimate, it failed miserably to do so.

However, the crew of the Star Destroyer seemed to pick up on the actual ship's distress and with a mighty sigh, sweatdropped like none had ever sweatdropped before.

"Not again!!" Some poor unfortunate piece of stormtrouper-esque cannonfodder cried, before his imminant demise in the skirmish that had come and was promptly gone with the dissapierance of a pair of droids, one recovering from a long lived drug addiction, and the other with a fondness for fine pornography.

("ahh!! Pornographic Material!!" Spider Man screamed in terror.)

But we are getting ahead of ourselves. Back up shall we?? Hmmm??

It was dead silent in the galaxy that night...or Day---depending on what side of which planet you were on at that exact moment.

Suddenly a shot rang out, a dramatic chord was played, a naughty word uttered, and a door opened--- releasing a human and two robots into a movie theatre Far Far Away. This may or may not have occured in that order.

Music was cued and the robots forgotten, leaving only the Man all by his lonesome.

"A long long time in the future...." The screen and the man read in unison. "...In a galaxy that is, in fact, our own..."

***

The awesome yellow planet of Tatooine emerged from a total eclipse, her two moons glowing against the darkness.

Some would argue that this is all too much of a dramatic introduction for such a dusty hell as Tatooine...But she was a dear ol broad, and much loved by the fans of the Trilogy. The actual residents of this armpit of deep space would argue greatly with the viewers about how dear the ol broad was...Bringing up the subject of sand people, moisture farming, Jawas, Hutts, Doughnuts, Thomases, and bright red coats.

Some viewers would claim that the author was confusing her fandoms...

The author would deny it completely.

SO ANYHOO, back to Ball o Sand.... It floated there---or orbited there--- like most planets do...In a slightly eliptical orbit around a Star. It was a beautiful view...

The crew of the 'Custodian of the Stolen Plans that can save her people and restore freedom to the galaxy... ' would've enjoyed it more if they weren't so busy running for their lives.

A tiny silver spacecraft, a Rebel Blockade Runner firing lasers from the back of the ship, raced through space, pursed by a giant Imperial Stardestroyer.

Hundreds of deadly laserbolts streaked from the wedge shaped ship, causing the main solar fin of the Rebel craft to disintegrate.

A loud cry of '#@$*&$^#!!!' rang over the com. Calling forth an answering sinister and highly wheezy chuckle.

Inside the ship, two robots, Artoo-Detoo (R2-D2) and See-Threepio (C-3PO) struggled to make their way through the shaking, bouncing passageway.

Both robots at first glance, were old and battered. Artoo appeared to be the anthorpomorphic tripod equivilant of a trash can, decorated with fancy yet peeling metallic paint, blinking christmas lights, and a large claw that would've looked much more dangerous if it hadn't been in the possesion of a retarded hotel ashtray. Artoo's entire appearance was topped off by a single eye lens---that, if you looked closely--- appeared bloodshot. The end of a pipe was sticking out of a panel on the back of the Robot's head.

Threepio, on the other hand, was a tall, slender robot of human proportions...Possessing a slightly dulled golden shell and a pair of extremely baggy pants. A sony discman was firmly welded to one metallic hip, and the earphones to the sides of the head, even though the author was still a bit sketchy on the location of Threepio's audio recievers. To top off the entire ensemble, large 'skating' shoes peeked out from the bottom of the pants, which the droid in question nearly tripped over.

"WHAT THE @$%&!???!" He yelled loudly at the rapidly departing explosion, with an unimpressive wave of 'his' fist.

We're pretty sure that Droids don't really have much in the way of gender.

"Beep-ith." Artoo warbled in distain, crashing against a wall.

"I don't CARE if they shut down the @%^#^&# reactors!!" Threepio argued, "...If they touch me I'll @$#%#&% tear off their @#$%&*# heads and shove it so far up their @%&@%^$ asses that---"

"Beepith Beepith Bopith." Artoo attempted to look meaningful.

"Whaddya mean the @^@*%&$ microwaves won't work!!?? I need my @$^*&%$ burrito!!"

The sound of steel toe on alloy caused Threepio to turn in mid point and Artoo to rotate his head. Rebel soldiers clanged past and took up positions along the hall, lazers, phazers, Razors, and Zap-o-kill guns pointed, shivering in fear, at the door. A couple guys even had crobars.

Many a brave manly man broke out in a cold sweat that day.

Many a girly man peed his pants and cried for mommy while cuddling a stuffed rabbit that day.

Threepio swore. "@#&!!"

Artoo warbled as only a crack high Shakespearian garbage can could. "Bipith."

"The @&%$&*% broad ain't escapin THIS time" The golden droid mumbled and shut off the melodic strains of 'ICP'.

Artoo continued to twitter. Tension mounted like a new couple with a joined libido as potent as a harlequin novel while loud metallic latches clanked and the scream of heavy equipment was heard moving around the outside hull of the ship.

A man named Eddie died from the sheer stress of the situation.

The nervous Rebel troopers aimed their weapons, heedless of the premonition the sudden cadaver on the ground posed.

A tremendous blast opened up a hole in the main passageway, tens of fearsome and almost mighty armored spacesuited stormtroopers (FEAR THEM!!!) made their way into the smoke-filled corridor. In a few moments the entire passageway was ablaze with laserfire. The deadly bolts ricocheted in wild random patterns creating huge explosions. Stormtroopers scattered and ducked behind storage lockers and other convieniently located props. Many died...For that is what Stormtroupers were made for. Cannon Fodder.

Laserbolts hit several Rebel soldiers who screamed and staggered dramatically through the smoke, holding shattered arms and faces.

"ARG!! AUGH I SAYITH!!" Cried one, disfigured young soldier named Hortensio. "The reaper cometh for me-ith---Through the smoke and turmoil!! Hark!! The bell tolls!! Lo!! My breath comes short-ith!!"

"LET US HATH A MOURNFULL SILENCE FOR OUR FALLEN FOE!!" Shouted a defiant, yet armless, Stormtrooper. A mournfull silence filled the still, bloody and smokefilled hall.

Hortensio Clutched at the dirk piercing his adomen, blood streaming from his lips. "Et Tu Brutus?? A plague on both your houses!!"

"I see the reaper!!" A woman in peasants dress wailed and exploded in a puff of logic and flying confetti.

"Well @#$&." Threepio muttered eloquently, barely shifting as an explosion alighted in the background, ruffling the cord of his headphones.

Artoo agreed throughly.

CHAPTER 1: Enter the Luke (or) Mark Hammil Swears revenge on the main plot.

***

A death-white wasteland stretched from horizon to horizon, broken only by the discarded Jawa tunics, high pitched helium-esque giggling, and a Giant Lightbulb(tm) in the far distance.

The tremendous heat of the two huge twin suns settled on a lone figure, Luke Skywalker, who didn't have his hair spiked straight up, wasn't wearing a bright red trenchcoat, didn't know what a doughnut was, and mostly likely had both of his arms intact. However, in an ideal world, His shaggy hair and baggy tunic would give him the air of a simple but lovable lad with a prize-winning smile. *cue teeth glint*

Unfortunately, the man they cast to play our dashing hero turned out to be....

*dramatic chord*

Mark Hammil.

*more dramaticisim*

Hammil: Shaddup.

So we promptly recasted Luke Skywalker, our loveable, tousseled blond haired athletic and pointy object some sort of secret relation to the main villan...

Hark---tis CLOUD STRIFE!! From Final Fantasy VII fame...

Yes...Cloud Skywalker....A name too oddly matching to be true, pointy chinned and sword experienced. He will do nicely!!

Hammil: What about me??

Jess: What about you??

Hammil: But this is the part I made famous!!

Jess: *yawn* Do we even CARE??

A switch was pulled and Mark Hammil was dumped down a pit labeled 'Do not open until the the Jedi Hath Returned...'.

Hammil: I WILL RUIN THEE!!! THY BLOOD WILL BOIL!! YOUR CHISEL-HEADED REPLACEMENT WILL PERISH!! YOUR---ieeeeee!!!!

Jess chose that moment to dump a bucket of leaches down the hatch and close it magically with a flick of her wrist.

Jess: That should keep him for a while.

Back to the story.

A light wind whipped at him as he adjusted several valves on a large battered moisture vaporator which sticked out of the desert floor much like an oil pipe with valves. He was aided by a beatup tread-robot with six claw arms, five golden rings, two pairs of carrot shoes, sayajin armor and distempter.

The little robot appeared to be barely holding back from running the almost adorible and most likely slightly dim hero through with a large sharpened stick. A bright sparkle in the morning sky caught "Luke's" eye and he instinctively grabbed a pair of electrobinoculars from his standerized batman promotional utility belt. This action also saved his life as the bot decided to use that moment to make his move, and promptly got the stick stuck in the vapor valve.

Alarms and klaxons blared and screamed. A small fire erupted on one of the bot's shoulder pads, causing it to swear loudly in three different languages that humans hadn't even discovered yet and spontaniously combust with no dignaty what so ever.

Luke stood transfixed for a few moments studying the heavens, totally ignoring the not so mass-distruction occouring behind him, then dashed toward his dented, crudely repaired Landspeeder.

He motioned distractedly for the tiny robot to follow him.

Silence...

A tumble weed blew by.

Luke cautiously turned his head, only to see a pile of smoking ash where the Robot once stood. He cocked his head to the side dumbly and made a show of scratching his head in confusion.

"It seems my robot hath spontaniously combustedith!!"

It seemed being 'loveable' was all Luke had going for him at the moment.

MEANWHILE BACK ON THE 'Custodian of the Stolen Plans that can save her people and restore freedom to the galaxy...'

The awesome, seven-foot-tall Dark Lord of the Sith made his way into the blinding light of the main passageway.

WHeeze.

It was Darth Vader, right hand of the Emperor (The left hand being someone named 'Bluesummers'). His face was obscured by his oddly shaped helmut and grotesque breath mask, which stood out next to the fascist white armored suits of the Imperial Cannon Fodder.

WHeeze.

Everyone instinctively backed away from the imposing warrior and a deathly quiet swept through the Rebel troops. Easy seeing most of them were dead.

WHeeze.

Conviently located Aztec warriors and Slaves knelt in fear and shivered and snivled and bowed and praised.

WHeeze.

The Remaining Rebel troops broke and ran like headless chickens. This pleased the Vader immensely.

"WHeeze-ith." The Vader Wheezed in contentment.

Down the hallway, away from the open praising and rampant Athsma, A woman's hand put a card into an opening in Artoo's dome.

Artoo made lecherous like beeping.

Threepio stood in a hallway, somewhere in the ship, somewhat bewildered. Artoo was nowhere in sight, and the @#&*%&* droid owed him ten credits!!

The pitiful screams of the doomed Rebel soldiers were ignored in the distance.

A familiar clanking sound drew Threepio's attention and he spotted little Artoo at the end of the hallway in a smoke(smelling strangely of weed)-filled alcove.

A beautiful young girl stood in front of Artoo. Surreal and out of place, dreamlike and half hidden in the smoke, she finished adjusting something on Artoo's computer face, swatting the droid on the rear to prompt it to go back to his 'friend'.

Quick as a snake, she pulled out a tiny capsule, pushed a button, threw it at the ground and ran away coughing amidst strange smelling pink smoke.

"Where the @#$( have you been??" Threepio whined, switching CDs disconcertingly.

"Bopith." Artoo giggled

"Heh." Threepio answered the language only he and few others seemed to understand.

Battling was heard in the distance, as well as sniveling and groveling and wheezing.

The semi-intellegent ashtray sighed and grabbed hold of one of threepio's belt loops, dragging him uncerimoniously down the hallway.

"@#$%!!!!!!"

*****

Darth stands amidst broken and twisted, mangled, and contortioned bodies. One begins to wonder how many of the bodies got into those positions...where their pants went...and why is Vader wheezing so hard.

The author begins to wonder where YOUR mind is.

He (tha vader) grabbed a wounded Rebel Officer (resplendant in fuzzy chibi-Zelgadis boxers) by the neck as an Imperial Officer rushed up to the Dark Lord.

"The documents desired by thou hath been removed from the centeral computerith!!" The officer snivled.

Vader 'WHeezed' in irritation and squeezed his pantzed captive's neck. "Where art the Death Star plans??!!??" (wheeze wheeze) He lifted the Rebel off of his feet. "Where hath ye put them!!??"

The rebel chuckled. "Hark!! Tis a diplomatic mission!! Thy Death Star Plans could partake in activities up thy ass m'lord!!!"

"If this tis a diplomatic ship, where is thy ambassidorith??" (wheeze wheeze) Vader, in irritation proceded to snap the man's neck.

"Up thy ass again I cry!!" Cried the corpse in the black clad Lord's hand. "Up thy mighty ass!! bwahaha....hahahah....HAHAHA....KAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKurk."

And he promptly died.

WHeeze.

*****

CHAPTER 2: Interesting relevations and why one should not put pastry in one's hair

*****

Deep in the bowls of the 'Custodian of the Stolen Plans that can save her people and restore freedom to the galaxy...', Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan huddled like a scared three year old in a small alcove. Thwarting the unwanted attention of the scurrying stormtroopers.

Thwart. Bwa.

The fear in her eyes slowly gave way to anger as the muted crushing sounds of the approaching stormtroopers grew louder.

"There she is!! Set for Stun!!"

Leia stepoed from her hiding place and blasted a trooper with her laser pistol. She began to run but was suddenly felled by a paralyzing ray.

Her inert body was eyed warily and inspected.

"Ano...Pretty flat for a princess." Said Ray the stormtrooper.

"Hell yeah Ray, all them there princesses are flat." Said Earl, another Stormtrooper.

"Says who??" Ray shot indignantly.

"Says -Whom-" Said Gerald the cleaning robot as it rumbled by.

"Says whom??" Ray shot indignantly.

"Jedi counsul."

Silence.

"Why??" A couple more unnamed stormtroopers chorused.

"Uhn, somethin bout some padawan gettin a nasty idea in his head to 'use the force' as it is an...So they decreed no princesses shall be temptin no more Jedi. So no women shall be endowed n..."

"Use the Force??" Ray questioned himself, scratching the helmut of his armor.

"You made that up!!" Accused one less than bright white clad piece of cannon fodder.

Earl shrugged. "Well, mebbie she's a guy??"

They all looked at Leia. Ray prodded her with the toe of his boot. "Un, guys, even if she wasn't a guy, I really wouldn't wanna check."

A pastry fell out of her hair. The Stormtroopers stared a bit.

Meanwhile, back to things that actually MATTER in the long run.

Artoo paused before the small hatch of an emergency lifepod, snapping the seal on the main latch and watching in amusement as a red warning light began to flash. The stubby astro-robot worked his way into the cramped four-man pod.

"Hey, why the @#$% didn't -I- Know about this @#$*%^# thing?? I would've @#$%&* got offa this !@$#%# ship a LOOOOONG time ago..."

Artoo beeped something to him.

"Don't call me a mindless bunktwat, you overweight pothead! Now let me IN!!"

Artoo whistled something at his reluctant friend regarding the mission he was about to preform.

"Secret mission? What @#^&*$# plans? What the @#$% are you talking about? And whaddya mean I'm not allowed to come??"

Artoo wasn't happy with Threepio's stubbornness, and he beeped and twanged angrily.

"Keep your damn comments to yourself you @#$%^&* ashtray."

A new explosion, this time very close, sent dust and debris through the narrow subhallway. Flames licked at Threepio and, after a flurry of electronic swearing from Artoo, the lanky robot was allowed into the lifepod.

"They are so going to @#^^&!@ regret this."

*****

On the main viewscreen, in the star destroyer, the lifepod carrying the two terrified robots sped away from the stricken Rebel spacecraft.

"There goes another one." Muttered the pilot. We shall call him Rowan for now.

The captain (whom we shall call Tony) shot him a glare. "Hold your fire. There are no life forms. It must have been short-circuited."

The two men glared out the screen. Heedless of the destruction a couple moments later when an estranged humanoid lightbulb child lept through the doorway and, cackling about geraniums, spiders, butterflies, and twin brothers, shot both men in the head.

In the distance a song played.

" So... Hitotsu-me no yoru ni Izuko kara koishi ga sekai ni ochiru So... Futatsu-me no yoru ni Koishi no ko ga te o tori warutsu o kaku Sound life...."

More insane cackling.

Rowan and Tony were promptly replaced.

*****

Artoo and Threepio looked out at the receding Imperial starship. Stars circled as the pod rotated through the galaxy.

"What the hell is THAT!??" Threepio pointed at the destroyer, half painted bright yellow, the paint covering some lettering. "....eeds?? What the @#*& is 'eeds'??"

Artoo beeps an assuring response.

"Ok...whatever..." Threepio sulked. "@#$%%^& fangirls."

*****

Heat waves radiated from the dozen or so bleached white buildings as Luke piloted his Landspeeder through the dusty empty street of the tiny settlement.

An old woman ran and dived into a nearby fruit cart to get out of the way of the speeding vehicle, shaking her fist at Luke as he flew past.

"#$#@^* YOUTH!!" She screamed, covered in guava-innered like goodness.

The Landspeeder cruised on, heedless to the damage it had caused and would cause, as it punched a landspeeder with Luke riding in it shaped hole through the streetward wall of the powerstation, plowed through the main room , passed a fixer and young woman, sending their clothes to dissaray and tools flying, and through the back wall into the office.

"Did I hear a young noise blast through here?" The fixer muttered, after the wind had passed and the sonic boom was a mere memory.

The girl snorted and resorted to filing her nails. "It was just wormie on another rampage."

Happily, Luke bounced into a small room behind the office where Deak and Windy, two tough boys about the same age as Luke, were playing a computer pool-like game with Biggs, a burly, handsome boy a few years older than the rest. The strange, pink plastic-esque material he was clothed in, the sparkles on his face, and the way his hair was shaped into two perfect spirals, sticking straight up, was a sharp contrast to the loose-fitting tunic of Luke Cloud Skywalker, and the other two.

"Shape it up you guys!.... Biggs?" Luke's surprise at the appearance of Biggs gave way to great joy and emotion. They give each other a great bear hug, but Luke was forced to smack the larger boy when he attempted to stick his hand down his pants.

"I didn't know you were back! When did you get in? WHY the hell are you back??"

"Just now. I wanted to surprise you, hot shot. I thought you'd be here...certainly didn't expect you to be out working." Biggs laughed, then leaned forwards to whisper something in the chisel-haired one's ear.

Luke blushed. "The Academy didn't change you much...but you're back so soon?? Hey, what happened, didn't you get your commision?"

Biggs had an air of cool that seemed slightly phony. Just slightly..."Of course I got it. Signed aboard The Rand Ecliptic last week. First mate Biggs Darklighter at your service..." He saluted with a floppy wave of your hand "...I just came to say good-bye to all you unfortunate landlocked simpletons."

Everyone laughs. The dazzling spectacle of his dashing friend's clothing dulling their sences and taking over their puny minds is almost too much for Luke, but suddenly he snaps out of it. And the author puts this paragraph back in the correct tense.

"I almost forgot. There's a battle going on! Right here in our system. Come and look!"

"Not again! Forget it dickwad." an ominous voice cried.

A glowing red eyeball glowed in the background for no appearant reason.

Back on the four klicks of target...

Princess Leia was led down a low-ceilinged hallway by a squad of armored stormtroopers. Her hands were bound and she was brutally shoved when she was unable to fit through the retardedly small corridoor.

WHEEze.

The entire enteurage froze in fear of the almost certain wedgie giving that was to follow. Of the black helmuted nazi reborn that was the Vader, of the Dark lord of the sith who put people through the most horrisome of horors, of bonnets and curlers, and neil diamond.

Leia met the black helmut's gaze fearlessly, and put on her 'not-blinking glasses'. Yes, it was the ritual Leia-Vader staring contest--- The least watched program on the holoscope.

"Lord Vaderith, I should have knownith. Only youith couldith beith soith boldith. The Imperialith Senate willth not sit for this, when they hearith you've attacked a diplomatic..."

"Don't play games with me, Your Highness. You weren't on any mercy mission this time. You passed directly through a restricted system. Several transmissions were beamed to this ship by Rebel spies. I want to know what happened to the plans they sent you." WHEEze.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a member of the Imperial Senate on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan...I wasn't expecting the freaking spanish inquisition!!!"

That was where Leia made her near-fatal mistake. Yea, nothing would prepare the evil Megilomaniac nor the allegidly pastry haired vixen for the chaos that was to ensue... The utter terror that was speeding through space towards their very location.

*Dramatic Chord*

"NO ONE EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!!"

Leia gasped, Stormtroopers fell over, Vader wheezed in horror. Yes, three men in alarmingly red uniforms were standing in the ruins of the corridoor, amidst the carnage of recently dead from rampant dramatic chords...The lifeless bodies of Stormtroopers paying homage to these rejects from long long ago in a galaxy that was nowhere near where they were now.

"Who...Are you." Vader stated with utmost athority, narrowing eyebrows that weren't seen, and grimacing an invisible grimace.

The leader of these men looked disgusted, and spared no expence at doing so.

-DISGUST.-

Leia nudged vader in the chest plate--- "They already announced upon their arrivals." She glanced around. "And it seems they hath laid waste to your entourage...."

The Red cloaked leader cleared his throat, Vader and Leia ignored him.

WHeeze. "So WHAT am I supposed to do now??!! Even if you (in the unlikely case) were innocent of these crimes..."

The red cloaked men perked up...

"....That wouldn't excuse the fact that you inadvertantly killed my honor guard and a few other guys." WHeeze.

-BIG WORDS.-

"....And what crimes is she being accused of, M'lord??" A spanish inquisitor sidled up to the wheezing one.

Vader twitched at him. "....She's part of the rebel alliance and a trator!!" WHeeze.

The red guys bopped up and down like retarded parrots. "What shall we do with her M'lord??"

Vader thought and wheezed and thought and wheezed and coughed.... "She'll die before she tells me the location of the rebel base....however...."

"RIGHT!!" And the trio of idiots marched the princess through the smoking hole in the side of the 'Custodian of the stolen plans that could free her people and bring peace to the galaxy' into the four klicks of target aka 'eeds'.

Vader blinked.

Another Imperial Officer approached Vader, snapping to attention and looking back over his shoulder in confusion.

"Lord Vader, the battleith stationith plans are not aboard this shipith! And no transmissions were madeith. An escape pod was jettisoned during the fightingith, but no life forms were aboardith."

Vader turned to the Commander, twitching slightly at the utter pointlessness of this chapter in general. "She must have hidden the bloody plans in the escape pod. Send a detachment down to retrieve them. See to it personally, Commander. There'll be no one to stop us this time."

"It's a fair cop..."

"And don't talk to the audience!!" WHeeze.