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Jailbreak

Is an illegal or immoral act, committed for the greater good, inherently of the dark side? Jedi had pondered this question since the dawn of the Order. Did the intention behind such an act matter more than the act itself? That couldn't be the case because megalomaniacs and mass murderers had been claiming good intentions for millennia. But what of the case of the man who steals to feed his family? Or the soldier who is forced to kill in order to survive during wartime? Kit-Sun Wolfgana, insecure Jedi Master, now wrestled with his own conscience—he was convinced it was a question of conscience, not merely someth

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51 deviations

Literature

Jailbreak

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51 deviations

Literature

Wing Ding Jubilee Wheel

Buruk’s stomach growled as he sat motionless at the controls of his ship, the Bes’uliik, as it floated aimlessly through the Besh Gorgon system; the Pursuer-class enforcement ship was out of fuel, dead in space with its inertia taking it on an outbound vector. It seemed like such a simple job… he thought, staring blankly into the void through the transparisteel viewport. He’d been offered five thousand credits a week to work security for the Grand Casino, the most upscale and expensive hotel-resort on the Wheel. He was a hardened mercenary, open warfare was his bread and butter, and this had looked like easy cred

Season 1

18 deviations

Literature

The Girl From Iridonia

Kit-Sun Wolfgana regarded the floor outside the High Council chamber, tracing his blue eyes across the smooth polished tiles. The craftsman had been something of a genius, fitting so many intricate shapes together to form the beautifully designed mosaic. Not a single piece strayed more than a millimeter from its setting, all arranged according to the grand scheme of their creator. In a way, that seemed a more appropriate metaphor for the Jedi Order than most wanted to admit. For better or for ill, everyone went along with the pattern, and if anyone stepped out of line, they were either hammered back into their proper alignment or simply remov

Season 2

18 deviations

Jailbreak by Cuun-yaim, literature

Literature

Jailbreak

Comfortably Numb Part 2 by Cuun-yaim, literature

Literature

Comfortably Numb Part 2

The Wookiees were all dead. Ren Tarant's guide had found them in a small clearing strung up by their heels down in the Shadowlands, where the most dangerous predators on Kashyyyk prowled. But not all predators walk on four legs, she thought, cupping the sleeve of her Jedi robe over her mouth to filter out the stench of blood. It hung heavy in the damp air, cloying, threatening to overwhelm her and the young male serving as her guide. "Cut them down," she ordered. Her guide, Naworrack, moaned softly and unsheathed his hunting knife. There'd been three members of the hunting party, all familiar with the Shandowlands'

Comfortably Numb Part 1 by Cuun-yaim, literature

Literature

Comfortably Numb Part 1

Ganhuff Riscan couldn't lift his head. He was not bound in any way. He merely sat languidly in the corner, hunched over, arms hanging dead at his sides. He willed for them to move but they may as well have been detached from his body, limp noodles instead of appendages. His awareness of his surroundings was severely limited. The wall and floor were soft where he sat, padded, he knew, so he couldn't hurt himself by running into them. There was no point to it, though, because he couldn't move. He could barely even think about moving; his mind was in a fog, as if a wet blanket had been wrapped around his brain, weighing down a

Sympathy For the Devil by Cuun-yaim, literature

Literature

Sympathy For the Devil

To be a bearer of secrets was a terrible burden. Since learning the identity of the Galidraan Knight Slayer, as the Jedi had named him, Kit-Sun Wolfgana hadn't been able to get a good night's sleep. Each time he lay back on his pallet, he tossed and turned, or sometimes restlessly wandered back and forth about his quarters in the Jedi Temple. By dawn, he'd swear up and down that that day he would bring his information to the Council, then settle down to meditate before getting about his duties. Somehow, he never got around to following through on his resolve. Why do I constantly stay my hand? he wondered as he stood outside the doors

Girl All the Bad Guys Want 2 by Cuun-yaim, literature

Literature

Girl All the Bad Guys Want 2

They came at him from all sides, lightning fast and razor precise. Titus Vorenus knelt on the padded floor of the Testudo's port cargo hold, dressed only in a pair of loose-fitting trousers, hands resting on his thighs, eyes closed. His bare chest rose and fell methodically with each carefully measured breath. Converting the hold into a training dojo had been but one of the many upgrades he'd demanded for the ship. There he kept alive the ancient arts of the Echani Firedancers, warriors whose ritualized combat blurred the line between battle and dance and whose passionate displays had eventually given rise to the Sun Guards of Thyrsu

Girl All the Bad Guys Want 1 by Cuun-yaim, literature

Literature

Girl All the Bad Guys Want 1

Buruk Kelborn fancied that fatherhood had done him a world of good. As he drilled Aerek in hand-to-hand combat techniques, he thought about the future and all the promise it held for him as a family man and semi-retired mercenary. "So are you and Lynli going to get married, buir?" That he hadn't thought about. The question, asked innocently by the boy less than half his age, caught Buruk off guard and the next thing he knew, his protégé swept his leg from under him and had him down on the deck in an arm lock. He could have clenched up his neck muscles and used his superior strength to break free, but proving the bo

Main Offender by Cuun-yaim, literature

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Main Offender

The cigarette case caught the light on its chrome plating, sending brilliant flashes across the engraved letters Mern and Resh. They stood for Miko Risant. Bet you're spinning in your urn, huh Dad? Morran Risant thought as he pocketed the case, took a long drag off his cigarette, and blew a wisp of smoke out toward the Cuun'yaim's viewport and the tidally locked planet beyond. He sat with his booted feet up on the console, watching Troiken grow as it dredged up long-lost memories and dreams. He imagined a captain's insignia and a jubilee of medals on his chest, and young men saluting him respectfully. A far cry from where he'd ended

Head Games by Cuun-yaim, literature

Literature

Head Games

A Jedi is never alone. With the Force as my ally, I am never alone. Through the Force, Nurt Ulasac could feel the ebb and flow of life all around him in the crowded passenger compartment of the starship as it hurtled through hyperspace. The humid chamber smelled of sweat and engine grease, and buzzed like a cafeteria in the Temple, with so many conversations going on at once. Beings of all species huddled in small groups, friends and families, companions of one sort or another. Ulasac sat cross-legged, leaning against the bulkhead in one corner of the hold, and watched everyone else. He had no companions. Cut off from the Or

Welcome to the Jungle by Cuun-yaim, literature

Literature

Welcome to the Jungle

The CoCo District Penitentiary on Coruscant served as a holding facility for beings awaiting trial but its appearance was more impressive than its function. A high duracrete perimeter wall topped with razor wire, guard towers, and surveillance holocams surrounded the compound, giving the prison a foreboding air meant to inspire awe and fear in those that looked upon it. Qate Jularc had merely snorted derisively at the sight of it. The interview rooms had been no less theatrical in their design, as if the architect who built CoCo Penitentiary had watched too many holofilms. Qate, dressed in a bright orange prison jumpsuit, sat with he

Nowhere Man by Cuun-yaim, literature

Literature

Nowhere Man

Rutgar Talon had overplayed the odds. The pit bosses never liked it when you won too much, so when he'd managed to take fifty thousand of the Triple Nova's money playing sabacc, he knew he had to get off Abregado-rae as soon as possible. Nervously, he crammed handfuls of chips into the pockets of his shabby suit, at least three years out of fashion, and half ran from the gaudily lit casino to his room. He was scrawny, out of shape, and even the short dash to the turbolifts left him winded. But he'd made it. He'd gather his belongings, check out of the hotel, and be offworld in a few hours. The lift doors parted on his floor and he st

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