Chapter 1: The Ashes of Velmor
Disclaimer: This work is a piece of fan fiction set within the Star Wars universe. I do not own the rights to the franchise, the original characters mentioned, or any concepts created by Lucasfilm and Disney. This story is written out of pure passion and is non-profit. All original characters (Maylan, Kaelia, Var Keth, etc.) and the plot are my own.
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away....
The heat of Tatooine wasn't mere weather; it was a weight. A physical presence that seeped beneath Maylan Virek's armor plates, clinging to his skin like regret. At nineteen, he knew every alleyway of Mos Eisley like a combat scar: intimate, rugged, yet essential to his survival.
That morning, the city awoke in a clash of hydraulic pistons and the cries of beasts of burden. Jawa junk dealers haggled over battered protocol droids, while the air—saturated with ozone and engine grease—vibrated under the distant pass of a New Republic patrol. Maylan adjusted the strap of his modified blaster at his hip. To him, these patrols were nothing more than buzzing flies: he served neither the remnants of the Empire nor those cardboard politicians calling themselves liberators.
He stopped at a makeshift stall for his first meal.
"The usual, Maylan?" grunted the owner, an old human with skin tanned like Krayt Dragon leather.
Maylan nodded, tossing a few Imperial credits—less and less accepted, but still valid here—onto the counter. He took his bowl of lichen flour porridge and stepped aside. Simple gestures were his anchors. Without them, he risked drifting into the void of his memories.
As he crossed the market, he felt eyes weighing on him. It wasn't fear, not exactly. It was the instinctive respect one gave to a predator. But beneath his "Grey Hunter" armor, Maylan carried a void no one could see: the memory of a vanished world.
Night fell brutally as the twin suns, Tatoo I and II, dipped behind the horizon in a crimson blaze. Maylan retreated to his modest lodgings above a moisture vaporator repair shop. There, in a silence broken only by the whistling sand-wind, the past returned to bite him.
He saw his home planet again, Velmor. The scent of pine forests, the coolness of the dew. Then, hell.
It wasn't Stormtroopers who had shattered his life, but those the galaxy called "heroes." Extremist Rebel cells—the very ones who had celebrated the fall of Vader—had turned his village into a battlefield during a skirmish against a local garrison. In the chaos of ion cannon fire and fragmentation grenades, his home had burned. His parents had stayed in the rubble. And his little sister... gone.
Maylan clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening. Eleven years of silence. Eleven years of fruitless searching. To him, the Rebel Alliance was just the other side of a corrupt coin.
A shrill beep tore through the darkness. His holographic comlink activated, projecting the blue silhouette of Noah. At eighteen, Noah was the only being Maylan trusted even slightly. An elite sniper, but above all a cook capable of turning survival rations into a feast, he dreamed of a traveling restaurant-ship. An absurd idea in a galaxy in flames, but it was what kept him alive.
"May," Noah whispered, excitement vibrating in his voice. "I intercepted a secondary encrypted feed on the old Imperial Logistics frequencies. A 'Black' bounty."
"Black bounties are for the suicidal, Noah," Maylan replied in a flat voice.
"Not this one. We're talking about Jakku. An old Imperial research site, apparently linked to purged archives. The target is an ex-liaison officer trying to sell access codes to the New Republic. If we bag him first, the payout in platinum dataries is colossal."
Jakku. The graveyard of the Imperial fleet. A desert of scrap metal where the Emperor's secrets rotted under the sand. For Maylan, it wasn't just about the money. Imperial archives meant prisoner lists, relocation logs... perhaps a trace of his sister.
"Give me the rendezvous coordinates," Maylan said at last.
"The Varkesh is cleared for takeoff," Noah replied with an informal salute. "I even whipped up some Bantha stew for the trip. Let's get off this rock, May."
Into the Unknown
Maylan stood up and walked to his locker. He pulled out his vibroblade and checked the balance of his weapon. He knew the galactic climate was shifting. The Empire was no more, but shadows like Commander Kaelor Voss were beginning to gather the broken pieces of the regime.
He stepped out onto his small balcony one last time. The wind carried the scent of dust and spice. He didn't know if Jakku would offer him the truth or a tomb of rusted metal. But standing still was a slower death.
"We leave at dawn," he murmured to himself.
He locked the door, leaving the routine of Tatooine behind. Tomorrow, he would plunge into the vestiges of the Empire. Tomorrow, the hunt truly began.
End of Chapter 1