Greetings, readers! That Hashtag Show is proud to offer a new feature of our site – fan fiction! Starting with today’s entry, we’re going to introduce you to some original, Star Wars, fan fiction content written by our own authors. The features will come in chapters or segments, serial format, so be sure to check back regularly to keep up with the stories. Today we begin with the tale of a disgraced Inquisitor with a crisis of conscience. Thus, we happily present you the prologue of our very first fan fiction feature. We hope you enjoy, and please be sure to let us know your thoughts below!
Tavek Dinaar knelt and readied himself, his black helmet resting beside him. He’d never wear it again. In hindsight, he should have never taken it up in the first place. Its calling, however, was too strong a calling to ignore; such was the power of the Dark Side. It invades you, permeates every fiber of your being with a lustful desire for power. Darth Vader sensed it in him. The Grand Inquisitor coaxed it out of him. But it was Tavek Dinaar that allowed it to control him.
For the first time in what felt like eons, he smirked, then smiled, and then laughed. It was neither remorse nor repentance that led Dinaar, the Fourth Brother of the Inquisitorius, to this fate. Rather, it was a simple, surprising, act of compassion; a moment of weakness. He no longer had any doubt that the unexpected empathy he’d felt had set the Force in motion towards this end. Tavek Dinarr resigned to accept it, as if he had a choice in the matter. Darth Vader would be upon him soon, the Dark Lord of the Sith. So Dinaar waited, meditating, his fleeting laughter now no more than a fleeting memory.
His eyes remained closed, his heartbeat barely noticeable, when the Stormtroopers entered the modest room Dinaar occupied just four sectors away from Coruscant’s Imperial Center. There’d been no need for them to force entry; he’d left the door to his chambers unlocked. No sense in postponing the inevitable with blocked doors and blaster fire.
For a waning moment,
memories of sunsets reflecting off of Alderaan’s snow-capped mountains filled his mind. He’d not thought of Alderaan in some time. Not since before the Dark Side of the Force enveloped him so completely that all he knew was darkness; all he felt was rage.
The troopers aimed their weapons at him but did not fire. One, through the metallic din of his voice modulator, informed Lord Vader that the Fourth Brother had been found. Dinaar sensed the Dark Lord’s presence long before he strode into the room, ducking his imposing frame through the doorway. Once, Tavek Dinaar welcomed the rhythmic undulations of Vader’s breathing apparatus. It had given him purpose, resolve. To be in Vader’s presence was an honor, one he once shared with his brothers and sisters of the Inquisitorius. Rumor told Dinaar that the Grand Inquisitor was dead, perished at the hands of the very Jedi the Grand Inquisitor had tracked to Lothal. It didn’t matter. Dinaar would soon join him.
“Where is the girl?”
Vader’s rasping breath lulled Dinaar into a state of calm. The room, and the Stormtroopers, melted away until nothing remained. There was only Dinaar. Dinaar, and Vader.
“I do not know, my lord.”
“That child could have led us to Kenobi.”
“I know, my lord.”
“And yet you let her slip away.”
Dinaar never stood. Never looked up, nor so much heaved a breath in his chest as Darth Vader stood looming over him.
“I did, my lord.”
Vader paused in his questioning. The Fourth Brother’s calmness intrigued him. Vader, for his part, sensed neither apprehension nor fear in the one who would soon meet his destiny. What emanated from the former Inquisitor instead was an eerie sense of calmness, one Vader had long since forgotten in himself. The Sith Lord momentarily admired Dinaar’s stoic resolve.
“Will you not beg for your life? Plead for a second chance?”
It was then that Dinaar finally broke from his meditative trance and looked up into the red eye lenses of Vader’s mask. His distorted image reflected back at him in a fitting reminder of what Tavek Dinaar, once a Jedi padawan, had become.
“I will do neither, my lord. My fate belongs to you, and to the Force.”
What was left of Vader’s brow furrowed behind the anonymity of his mask. The room drew silent save for the whisps and wheezes emanating from Vader’s mask. His breather rasped twice, then a third time, before Vader spoke.
“So be it.”
Dinaar knew what was to come. He closed his eyes and drew in his final breath. While he heard the tell-tale snap-hiss as Vader ignited his lightsaber, he never saw the Dark Lord swing the blade. Nor did he feel his searing death as Vader sliced through his neck. No, Tavek Dinaar felt nothing but peace. For a moment his head remained atop his shoulders before sliding to the ground beside the body that once held it aloft. Vader turned and commanded his Stormtroopers to follow. The Fourth Brother, once one of the most ruthless and prolific of the Inquisitors, was no more. All that remained of Tavek Dinaar he’d transmitted away before Vader arrived….
[To be continued ….]
To continue the story, please follow the links below:
- Part 2 – Bail Organa
- Part 3 – The Inquisitorious
- Shili – Part 4
- Part 5 – The Jedi
- Part 6 – Failure
- Mandalore – Part 7
- Part 8 – The Duchess
The preceding is a work of fan fiction based upon and utilizing locations, characters, and/or plot points from the Star Wars universe, originally created by George Lucas and trademarked to Lucasfilm, Ltd. The author makes no claim whatsoever of ownership of the Star Wars name, characters represented, or the Star Wars universe generally. This work is created of the author’s own imagination and is intended for entertainment purposes only. It does not purport to be an “official” Star Wars story or part of existing Star Wars canon in any way. The author is not profiting financially in any way as the result of the creation or publication of this piece of fan fiction.