#silman

qui-gon x reader

“Couldn’t just go back to normal,” you sighed, scrambling over dunes towards the broken ship. “Had to go fucking missing.” It was eerily quiet, but you supposed that was to be expected from an uninhabited moon. The wind whistled through the holes in the ship’s casing, an eerie moaning more suited to a moonless night than this glaring desert daylight. Dyas’ body was mangled, shattered through the windscreen of the ship and gored on the ruptured metal plating. You pressed a hand to his forehead, and forced yourself into his mind. A bounty hunter glittered at the forefront, flashing yellow eyes, hundreds of faces all the same, Kamino. “Help,” another man croaked, reaching for you from the back of the ship. His face was pale, sweating and trembling, but the most deadly threat to him at the moment was shock. “Hey, I’m here,” you assured him, letting his hand clasp around your arm as you worked to release him from the broken trappings of his seat. “You’re Valorum’s aide, right? Silman? What happened?” “Pykes!” He moaned as you released him, pulling him into the open air. Whirring above you alerted you to what had caused the crash: the huge, over-powered pile of scrap-metal that was a Pyke ship.

“Great,” you muttered, shoving him back into the ship and throwing your communicator at him. “The button with Bea on will get us out of here!” Several Pykes emerged from the ship, haphazardly armoured in mismatched metals and armed with makeshift blasters and blades that were definitely not pedigree but surely no less sharp. “Hi!” you smiled, activating your lightsaber. “Nice day for it.” One of them fired at you, and you swatted it away, spinning on your heel to remove the head from the body of the unsuspecting bandit who had decided to stab you while you were distracted. “How are you going with that communicator?” you called behind you, as another hundred Pykes descended from their ship. “You’re glowing!” Silman exclaimed, poking his head out of the ship to answer you and stopping in his tracks. “I do that sometimes,” you replied, nonchalantly, fixing your gaze on the approaching swarm of bandits. “Recommend closing your eyes, this might get a bit bright.” You focused all your energy into the warmth in your hands, feeling your power surge there until the Force began to crackle with its energy, and you released it, throwing them all back, just as your ship floated down from above you. “In! In!” Silman obediently followed you up the ramp of the cargo hold which shut quickly behind you, leaving you to collapse dramatically onto one of the bench seats in the back of your ship, exhaling loudly. “R1-B8, you are an angel.” The droid beeped happily back at you as you floated away from Oba Diah’s moon. “Take us to Kamino.” “Kamino?” Silman questioned, eyeing your exhausted form. “We should return to Coruscant.” “Something’s going on here and I don’t like it,” you answered, not bothering to sit up as exhaustion washed through you. “Dyas was up to something and I’m pretty sure whoever shot you down knew it.” “And what state are you in to defend us from those who hired the Pykes?” Silman demanded, worriedly. “You’re clearly exhausted.” “Kamino is an hour away,” you assured him, tiredly. “Plenty of time for a nap.”

“What’s Order 66?” you demanded, hand wrapped tightly around Dooku’s throat. “What are you going to do to me?” the older Jedi sneered. “Kill me? You’re too weak. Too much of a sucker to my Master’s Light side nonsense.” You released the instinctive hold you’d kept on your Force presence, feeling the Force flood in and around and through you as you closed your grip further. “What is Order 66?” His eyes widened, face flooding purple as he gasped for breath. “Eradicate the Jedi,” he choked, eyes sparking yellow as he tried to pry your hand from his throat. “Kill them all.” You smirked, tossing him aside, and looked to the Kaminoans, who were watching you all curiously. “Well, how wonderful,” you said, nonchalantly, lips never twitching from their dark smile. “Remove it.” You looked at the Clones around you, their faces nervous but unflinching as they waited for you to order them destroyed, and you hesitated. “Cease production,” you ordered, eventually. “Let those you have already created live.” You transferred the credits without so much as flinching. “They belong to the Jedi Order – no higher bidder will take them.” The Kaminoans nodded obediently, their eyes glazed. “They will live freely.” You turned away, tucking your credit chip back into your robes. “I will consult the Order.”